I certainly have no rights to Harry Potter, but this won't stop me writing this story. However, you probably already know this. As it is my specialty, and as in my other big stories, this shows how things go if something went different right at the beginning. Please note that I'm not a fan of bashing and also don't expect the pairings to differ from canon. However, the path to them sertainly will be quite different. I also want to try and subvert certain plots and things that became common in the fandom over the years.
For now, the story will update every second Saturday, until I say otherwise.
I'll try to answer reviews from now on, since I do like the feedback for improvement.
I don't yet have a TvTropes page for this story, but plan for one. However, it would be a pleasant surprise if someone does it first.
Chapter 4: Black Death
"This certainly is very nice architecture," Dumbledore marveled at the ornamental brick architecture while approaching the main building of Ipswich School to meet with its headmaster.
No one would have ever even suspect he was a wizard, as he had taken to heart that he needed to blend in, and managed to keep his eccentric side at bay. To the observer he simply was an older gentleman wearing a black suit and a bowler hat. He had as well shortened his hair and beard to a normal length, knowing he could easily grow it back to normal with his magic.
His statement that he wanted to devote more time for Hogwarts was pretty much an understatement. He had devoted much time to look at how Hogwarts was operating and found it to be quite inefficient or even lacking. Honestly, while traditions themselves were nothing bad, clinging to them could only hinder growth. Hogwarts was in need of reforms, if it truly wanted to continue to play in the same league as other big magical schools, his visits to these schools in question had shown him that clearly.
Honestly, especially his visit to Beauxbatons had been humbling. He could still remember Headmistress Maxime showing off how progressive her school was. The huge woman had done little to hide that she didn't think of Hogwarts as such.
He already had set many cogs into motion, but that would take time - time, which he now wanted to use to get an even better perspective. An outside perspective, that is.
Not only did I get too comfortable in my ways, the whole school did, he thought.
He had always been uncomfortable with how the Ministry felt it did not need to keep the proper procedures when interacting with the non-magical world. That condescending attitude certainly had not helped relations with those officials that were in the know about magic. So he had went the long way. While the Minister for Magic would have simply entered the Downing Street without any warning, he had used the name Hogwarts used in the official documentation, Highland College, and managed to get an appointment with the Prime Minister through the correct channels the Minister for Magic was supposed to use.
The Prime Minister herself had not only been surprised at him keeping proper procedure and him using the correct attire, but also that he apologized taking some of her time, since sadly the only contact with the government was the very top. Honestly, official documentation and letters of recommendation to several boarding schools so that he could visit them to get a better idea of how Hogwarts was lacking, normally shouldn't take up a Prime Minister's time.
He still remembered her astonishment when she had asked why he was going the long way, since he could have easily forged the papers with magic. She clearly hadn't expected his reply that this would have been dishonest and not to speak illegal.
"Ah, Mr. Dumbledore, welcome to Ipswich School," John Blatchly, the Headmaster of Ipswich School, greeted his guest at the doors of the currently empty school.
"Thank you very much. I already enjoyed merely looking at the marvelous buildings of your school," Dumbledore said, while both men shook hands.
"Oh, even though it is impressive, it's only the latest incarnation of this centuries-old institution," Blatchly explained while they walked through the silent corridors, all students currently being on summer vacation. "I've heard that Highland College more takes after medieval architecture?"
"Indeed. It more resembles a medieval castle," Dumbledore said with slight amusement, knowing very well it was a medieval castle.
Finally entering the headmaster's office, Blatchly directed his guest towards the comfortable-looking armchairs. "I honestly was quite surprised when receiving the letter of recommendation from the Ministry of Education and Science. Your school is more a myth than anything else, due to how exclusive it is. Invitation only, after all."
Dumbledore knew this statement was quite true. "Yes, we are perhaps the most exclusive school in the whole United Kingdom. However, I feel we can certainly improve ourselves. This is, why I am visiting other boarding schools. I can't thank you enough for taking time for me, I know normally the teaching staff uses this time of the year to relax after the school year is over."
"Believe me, it's no problem at all. Even if it weren't for the reputation your school holds in our circles, I can hardly refuse a fellow headmaster who wants to improve his own school," Blatchly explained.
The door then opened and a woman in her fifties entered with a tablet laden with tea and biscuits.
"Ah, Miss Partridge, right on time, as always. Sometimes it's like you can see the future," Blatchly commented with amusement.
"Oh no, it's all just experience, Headmaster," Miss Partridge said while setting up everything and pouring tea into the cups. "I am in the anteroom. Sadly, even over the summer, work never stops."
Watching her leave, Dumbledore heard the chuckles of his colleague. "My secretary of almost twelve years now. Oh, I would probably drown in the work, if not for her." He took the tea cup. "That, and she knows exactly how I like my tea."
"I certainly know how bad the paperwork can get. I always felt I can manage it myself, but recently I am starting to think more professional structures are required," Dumbledore mused.
That certainly was true. At Hogwarts the headmaster and professors traditionally did all their paperwork, as well as the administrative work, themselves. That had worked in the past, but the amount of paperwork had grown over the years with society getting more complex, and by now it was eating quite a big chunk of their time. That certainly was one of the things he had to change, if the quality of the teaching was to improve from its current level.
Truth to be told, he himself certainly could use a personal secretary as well. He had realized how much of his work he had dumped onto his Deputy in past years, and now doing it again himself started to feel overwhelming. He really could use an anteroom to his office with a secretary to free him from the mass of mundane paperwork, so that he could concentrate on the truly important issues.
"Trust me, I made that experience as well when I ascended to being the Headmaster. We all overestimate ourselves until reality reminds us of the facts," Blatchly remembered. "Well, how do we start?"
"It would certainly help, if you explain to me how you run your school, how it is organized. I also would love to be given a tour, as I already am impressed with what little I did see," Dumbledore explained while picking up his tea cup.
That meant they started talking shop, and Dumbledore did learn a lot how Ipswich School was managed, it's curriculum and all the ins and outs. It did help that Mr. Blatchly was not only patient, but clearly enjoyed explaining these things. In his head, Dumbledore started to get a picture of improvements that could see use at Hogwarts, but he first would have to visit several more schools over the summer and get a more complete picture.
Still, he felt he was on a good track with things.
...12 Grimmauld Place, July 25th...
"That's an outrage! How dare they?!" Walburga Black snarled while reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, one article having ignited her anger.
Recently, her moods had become even worse than usual and even small things now tended to set her off violently. That meant her blood pressure now was quite often at a dangerous high, but her only response had been to fire her personal healer about three weeks ago, feeling annoyed by the man's constant warnings about her health. She was certain she knew better than him.
Today, an article about the passing of Cygnus Black had set her off. Cygnus had died two days earlier due to health complications and while she did have contacted Narcissa in order to arrange everything for her brother's funeral, the inheritance laws of feodum talliatum had reared their ugly head. The article in the newspaper spelled it out, that due to the death of Pollux Black some years prior, the death of Cygnus meant that the only male Black of the main line left was Sirius.
"This blood-traitor inheriting the Black fortune?! Not as long as I live!" she finally exploded. "He was removed! Disgraced! Disinherited! And yet they claim that by law he now gets everything!?"
By now her face was deep red with rage, the veins pulsing dangerously. She didn't care about anything but being angry at the moment. She felt horrifically insulted that in the middle of her grief for her brother she was confronted with what she saw as a major affront to the entire House of Black. She would fight tooth and nail to stop this from happening!
She jumped out of her armchair, madder than ever. "Never! Never, I swear! Not one single Knut for this shame of my... -nnngh-!"
Her rant was stopped all of a sudden when she felt a sharp pain in her chest and fell back into her armchair. It felt like her air was being cut off and the pain centered around her heart was getting worse with each moment. Her anger gave way to panic in an instant.
"K- Kreacher..." Her voice had weakened considerably already after mere moments.
The house-elf appeared right away after the call. "How may Kreacher... Mistress, oh no!"
"Help! ... Get help!" Walburga gasped, already seeing black dots in her vision.
"Kreacher is getting help!" He then disappeared right away and went to the one place where he knew he could get the help his Mistress needed so badly now.
Everyone in the entrance hall of St. Mungo's magical hospital was pulled out of whatever they were doing when all of a sudden a somewhat elderly house-elf wearing a uniform with crest of the house of Black - something most owners didn't bother with anymore - appeared. The elf looked close to a full-blown panic, rising his voice to its maximum, which was considerable for a creature of his size.
"HELP! HELP! KREACHER'S MISTRESS WALBURGA IS NEEDING HELP!"
For some seconds no one knew what to do, until the normally apathetic receptionist - who clearly had seen too many horrible injuries to care much anymore - snapped into action. "Sanders, get the emergency healers down here!" She then turned to Kreacher. "House of Black? Where?"
"Grimmauld Place ... Number 12," Kreacher managed to get out, becoming more upset by the second.
"Hurry, hurry!" the leader of the emergency healers called some moments later, after having heard this information from the receptionist. Running to the biggest fireplace, he quickly threw in floo powder. "Grimmauld Place Number 12!" he called.
To everyone's astonishment however, the green flame did nothing and fizzled back out.
"What the...?" In all his years, he had never before experienced this.
"Oh dear, now Kreacher remembers! Mistress Walburga had the house disconnected!" Kreacher gasped when this little detail of Walburga Black's paranoia came back to him.
"Great..." the healer cursed. "OK, change of plans, we apparate right into the house! Just don't mess up the address, people!"
Well, that had been the plan, but instead they appeared on the street in front of the house.
"Arrrgh, what has happened now?!" a witch in the team cursed, feeling that someone seemed to like slowing them down.
Right then Kreacher appeared. "Oh no, Kreacher also forgot Mistress Walburga warded the house against intruders!"
The lead healer tried his best to control himself. "Open the door from the inside, would you?"
Kreacher disappeared and seconds later the door opened, finally allowing them to enter the house... only to instantly get slowed down by some kind of anti-intruder measures causing the furniture to block their way. They gave Kreacher a look which clearly said that this was getting ridiculous and the house-elf understood, using his magic to get the way clear.
When they finally reached the correct room after several more delays due to the paranoid defenses, Walburga Black sat slumped and motionless in her armchair. The healers quickly tried to check if there was anything they could do, while Kreacher looked outright miserable. Minutes passed, before the healers gave up and their body language also was answer enough, though Kreacher felt he had to ask.
"Mistress...?"
The head healer shook his had. "Sorry, we were too late. The heart attack she suffered was strong enough to cut off all oxygen. She was brain-dead by the time we arrived. Had we not been delayed so much..."
Kreacher looked like a world was collapsing for him. He no longer heard the healers talking about organizing the transport of Mrs. Black's body to the morgue, where it would be kept until the funeral. In his grief he didn't notice anything, walking on autopilot through the house with no destination in mind. He honestly no longer cared.
He no longer cared, because he also knew that there was only one person left that now would inherit him. The very thought alone that he soon would be forced to follow the orders of the swine Sirius, the person he blamed for causing the family to fall apart, was causing Kreacher intense distress. Everything in him wanted to refuse that man his service, alas, the nature of house-elves would force him into servitude to him.
No, Kreacher wants to go to Mistress Narcissa! She is a proper pure-blood! he thought rebelliously in impotent rage.
Reaching the entrance hall, Kreacher made a discovery.
The life-sized portrait of his late Mistress, which she had ordered being made a little over a year ago and modified accordingly to get imprinted at the moment of her death, now had its curtains closed. That was a clear sign that the imprinting had happened and the portrait now was processing everything before it would become active.
While Kreacher felt he should be elated to still have his Mistress Walburga in some form, it instead made him uneasy.
...home of Sirius Black, July 26th...
It was a very normal Friday morning in the house of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Both of them were enjoying breakfast, Sirius reading the day's Guardian while Remus had his attention on the Times. Sirius would walk to the police station in an hour to start his shift while Remus would prepare all his materials for his tutoring sessions for school children unfortunate enough they had to learn during the summer - mostly to make up for bad marks.
However, their usual morning routine was about to get interrupted.
-rriiiiinng-
The sound of the doorbell pulled both men out of their routine. It still was a bit too early for the postman, so they wondered who it could be. Remus left for the door, while Sirius continued to read his newspaper. However, not for long when he heard a quick exchange of words and then a hastily closed front door.
Sirius understood when seeing the elderly man that got escorted in by Remus. That man screamed 'wizard' - he had not even tried to adapt the way he dressed. Sirius already got a bad feeling about this. After all, he had worked hard so that he could not be found.
"You are a difficult man to find, Mr. Black," the man said.
Correction, arrogant pure-blood wizard, Sirius thought, remembering the way this man spoke all too well. After all, he'd heard it often enough from his parents and many pure-blood students from rich families.
"Well, that's because I didn't want to be found by any wizards, as I'm done with that world. How did you manage to do so anyway?" Sirius didn't bother with keeping his irritation at bay. After all, this situation was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.
"Well, the rules of inheritance always allow us to locate the heirs. I am Mr. Howe, the executor of the Black estate and generally responsible for all legal matters of the Black family," the man introduced himself.
Now, this caused Sirius' interest, and it explained a lot. Of course the Blacks would want a person with a compatible mindset to handle their legal matters. "The Black estate? I'm a bit out of touch; I thought Cygnus Black is running that?"
"Sadly, Cygnus Black died some days ago. Before that matter was fully processed, even more sadly, Walburga Black died yesterday as well due to heart failure. We had to hasten things due to this double loss." Mr. Howe looked genuinely sad about this.
My mother didn't have a heart, but I guess she ran out of spite to keep herself alive. Some years ago I would have thrown a party that she finally kicked the bucket, but now I'm just glad she's gone. He didn't say that aloud however.
Instead, he appeared mostly emotionless and little moved by these news. "So my mother and uncle are both dead? I guess that's it for the Black family, right? No more male Blacks left, the remaining female Blacks married out of the family with one being disinherited and one even being in prison, and I'm disinherited as well."
"Not exactly, Sir. This is where it does get interesting. In the eyes of the law, your disinheritance is meaningless due to feodum talliatum. As the very last male Black, it disregards all and any earlier arrangements and you automatically inherit everything," Mr. Howe explained, even though it was clear that he was not happy about that fact.
Sirius froze at that declaration. "Please tell me this is a bad joke."
Mr. Howe looked a bit annoyed, though he had clearly expected Sirius to be difficult due to how he'd chosen to live his life. "I can assure you, it's no joke. As of this day, you are the sole heir of the entire Black fortune."
At first Sirius said nothing, then stood up and went to the liquor cabinet and quickly poured himself a gin in order to calm down his nerves, which were close to freaking out. He had thought that he was done with all of that. Sadly, reality was very determined to prove to him that there were things you just could not run away from easily. He felt like being at the butt end of a huge joke made by the universe.
Remus, seeing that Sirius needed a few moments, asked an interesting question. "Say, if Sirius decides to reject the inheritance, what happens then?"
Mr. Howe was glad for a smart question. "Well, should Mr. Black decide to not accept the inheritance, then the estate goes to the nearest male relation. In this case, Mr. Draco Malfoy."
Sirius turned around, looking as if hit by a sucker punch. "You mean Narcissa's son?"
"Exactly, as he is the closest male relative. However, since he is merely five years old, he can not be expected to follow the duties of an heir, meaning that his parents will be entrusted with the estate, until he comes of age," Mr. Howe explained.
As much as Sirius hated having anything to do with what he saw as blood money, that was an even bigger nightmare.
The Black fortune was very extensive - they were easily one of the richest families in all of magical Britain - and thus very lucrative for those wishing to get their hands on it. The thought alone that Lucius Malfoy could get hold of such an extensive fortune was causing Sirius to almost develop an ulcer. He had no doubt that Malfoy would use all that money for his own pure-blood cause and later install his son as a puppet to nominally lead the estate, while he himself would pull the strings in the background.
No way I can allow that to happen! With so much money, Malfoy could literally buy himself the way to become Minister for Magic, Sirius realized. Crap, sometimes I hate it when I have to make such decisions.
"I understand... Under these circumstances, I will accept my inheritance," Sirius finally told Mr. Howe, feeling like he'd kicked a thousand puppies.
"Very good." Mr. Howe clearly tried to mask that he would have preferred the inheritance to go to Draco, but was professional enough not to make an issue of it. "We need to go to my offices in Diagon Alley in order to finalize matters."
Sirius now felt like he'd bitten into a very nasty lemon. "Alright. I need some minutes to arrange for my absence from work today, though my superior probably will accept legal entanglements." That said, Sirius left for the phone.
Remus for his part hoped Sirius would get through this day without having a mental breakdown. "While we are waiting, a coffee, Mr. Howe?" he offered.
"No thanks. That would only make me uneasy." It was pretty obvious that he did feel unwell in such a non-magical environment. It seemed he didn't leave the confines of the magical world that often.
Remus however had one more question. "You mentioned that you hastened the process. I thought this normally would take weeks?"
Mr. Howe now looked quite uncomfortable, this clearly had been a nightmare for him to prepare everything in such a short time. "Due to the high prominence of the House of Black, we put all our resources into it. The only work left is that which needs the presence of Mr. Black."
It took some minutes, but then Sirius finally returned.
"Alright, we can go now," he said, not sounding very eager to do so. Seeing Mr. Howe start walk to the door, Sirius stopped him. "You don't honestly want to walk into a Muggle neighborhood looking like that?"
"I do not see the problem," Mr. Howe asked in confusion.
Note to myself, replace that guy as soon as possible with someone actually competent. He clearly was selected solely because of his political views, Sirius decided, then told the man that they would apparate from inside the house to the Leaky Cauldron and enter Diagon Alley from there. It would create attention, but he hoped not too much of it.
Several hours later, Sirius was taking it back. Getting into the Alley had not been bad.
No, it had been even worse!
Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley had at once ignited a storm of attention as soon as one patron had recognized him - something that only became worse when entering the Alley itself. Sirius was pretty sure his face would be plastered all over the magical newspapers in a matter of hours. He would certainly make the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. After all, it was big news that Sirius Black, who had disowned the magical world years ago, now was seen again.
He could very well imagine the rumors that were already flying around. He was pretty sure, some bozo in the Ministry would leak news about his inheritance soon enough for a handful of Galleons.
Sometimes I hate that I'm right, he cursed himself. So much for staying under the radar.
Maybe even worse had been the ridiculous amount of paperwork he'd been forced to do with Mr. Howe in order to finalize things and make it all legally airtight. That had taken them hours to accomplish and did include a visit to the responsible Ministry offices, adding to the media circus. Mr. Howe clearly had not thought ahead and it only reinforced Sirius' wish to find someone else to take over his legal matters in the magical world... today!
Of course Mr. Howe was oblivious of what his client was thinking. Too bad for him he would soon lose this big and important client, which would go hand-in-hand with a loss of reputation.
Thankfully, all that legal nonsense now was finally done, though Sirius had been forced to wear that damn ring that would mark him as the Head of the House of Black. In the past he'd seen this ring too often on the hand of the Head of House at family gatherings, so he already was sick of seeing it now, let alone wearing it. He would make sure that the thing would spend 99% of its time in a locked glass case in his living room.
However, there was one final part that would be especially distasteful for him.
"Is this really necessary?" Sirius asked Mr. Howe while they walked down Grimmauld Place to No. 12.
"I know it might be distasteful to enter the very place where your mother died just a day prior, but we have to do this to ensure that ownership has been correctly set to you, Mr. Black. That, and no one knew what to do with its house-elf, so he's still in there," Mr. Howe explained.
I couldn't care less that this was where my dear Mum finally bit the dust, Sirius thought. It was the bad memories of the place that made him reluctant to get even close to it.
Finally, they stood in front of the house, which as usual was disguised. Everyone without magic just assumed there had been a numbering error, and the number 12 had been skipped by accident. The Blacks had taken pains and tons of gold for the illusion to be perfect. Sure, as the Head of House he could have it ripped out, but that would only cause trouble if a house appears where none had been before.
"OK, let's get this over as quick as possible," Sirius said, holding his ring against the doorknocker. The door opened without any complaint. "At least this ring is good for something."
Walking into the entrance hall, Sirius saw that literally nothing had changed from his unhappy childhood days. Even the damn umbrella stand some ancestor had fashioned from a troll leg was still there. The portraits on the wall, the ones that always insulted him in the later years of his youth, were now silent. Perhaps that was due to him now being their master. It seemed now that being the Head of House at least did have some advantage.
There was something new however. It was on the wall, as tall as him and covered by curtains that seemed to vibrate slightly. "What in in all names is that?"
His voice was enough to set it off.
The curtains flew open and revealed a life-sized full-body portrait of Walburga Black. Sirius saw that she must have commissioned it years after he had left home, since she looked older and uglier than he remembered her - though she never had been a beauty in the first place. To his dismay, the portrait was clearly enchanted to hold an imprint of her personality, as it moved and took notice of him.
Her hateful eyes focused on him. "Yooouuuu! You dare to return to this place!? Blood-traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh! How dare you to wear the ring of House Black?!"
"Crap, as if she wasn't bad enough in life, she's even tormenting others from beyond the grave," Sirius cursed while the portrait continued to insult him with an extensive vocabulary. "Alright, that's enough!"
Pulling his wand, Sirius turned the lone umbrella in the stand into needle and thread, before pointing it at the curtains. "SILENCE!" That was followed by a spell and the force behind it was enough to slam the curtains shut and hold them there, while needle and thread came to life, sewing the curtains shut.
"There, now we have silence. Fits to her to be spiteful, even after her demise," Sirius snorted.
Mr. Howe on the other hand looked a bit pale, before collecting himself. "Well, Mr. Black, the surest way to know that the house is now yours is to call the elf. If he appears, it's yours."
"Let's hope we won't regret this." Sirius knew, there was little other choice, despite how much he disliked that elf. "KREACHER! Front and center!"
-Pop- "Kreacher feared it would come to this."
Well, that certainly was Kreacher, but Sirius had never before seen him in such a dirty uniform. Well, it not exactly was a uniform in the classical sense, but the pride of House Black had demanded that even their servants would show off their wealth. It was a carefully tailored tunic with the coat of arms of House Black on its front. What Kreacher was wearing did not count as clothes, since he'd made him himself instead of being given to him; certainly an interesting way to look at the rules. After all, house-elves were able to handle the laundry as well.
Sirius took in the hostile looks Kreacher gave him and knew right away the elf still disliked him even after all these years. "Well, that proves my ownership, right?" he asked Mr. Howe.
"Yes, you are now the rightful owner of this house and all that comes with it." Mr. Howe then noticed the hostile looks Kreacher gave Sirius. "Though this could prove a problem."
Sirius looked thoughtful. "You know, in my current living arrangements I have no use for a house-elf..."
Hearing that, Kreacher paled.
To Kreacher, his new Master's words could only mean one thing: he would get clothes! That was a complete nightmare for the house-elf for two reasons. First, it of course was a horrible shame for an elf to get clothes, and that alone would ensure he probably would die from sheer shock. Even worse, once he could never return to this house, he would be unable to ever fulfill Master Regulus' last orders! That thought was almost driving him crazy.
Panicked, Kreacher saw only one course of action, even if it meant destroying all of his pride. He fell to his knees and started begging. "No! No! Please, Master! Please no clothes! Kreacher promises to be a good elf! Kreacher will swear to follow all and every of Master's orders! Please no clothes!"
Sirius was taken aback by that reaction. Well, I actually wanted to just hand him over to Narcissa, that elf really likes her after all. However, I shouldn't miss this opportunity.
"Well, your words convinced me not to do it. Get up, Kreacher," Sirius told the elf.
Kreacher did so, but didn't dare to look Sirius into the eyes. "How may Kreacher serve you, Master?"
Sirius scratched his chin while thinking about it. "Well... ah, I know. Since I don't plan to use this house often... Kreacher, here are my orders. First off, get your uniform back in order. Then, I do plan to use this house for bigger get-togethers sometime in the future, so I want it to be kept clean and in good condition as well as having all the hazards removed, which does include my mother's portrait."
"What shall Kreacher do with the portrait of the late Mistress Walburga?" the elf asked, hoping it wouldn't get destroyed.
"Just move it somewhere where guests are very unlikely to get in contact with it. Now, I want you to do all work on this house during the weekends. I certainly don't want you to be all alone the entire time, so you will be working for Hogwarts during workdays. Go to the Headmaster or his Deputy and tell them of my orders, then you'll get further instructions from them."
"As you wish Master." Inside, Kreacher felt he had avoided a major problem. Sure, he wasn't exactly happy, but at least he had avoided the big trouble. For that, he could live with these rather generous orders, as it meant he didn't have to be around Master Sirius too often.
Watching the house-elf disappear to Hogwarts, both men felt the need to leave this house as fast as possible - at the moment it was not fit for anyone to stay until it was made safe by the elf removing all the harmful anti-intruder measures.
Once back outside, Mr. Howe addressed Sirius. "Well, Mr. Black, I think this concludes our current business and I feel there will be more fruitful years of working for you ahead of us."
Watching the man disapparate, Sirius chuckled darkly. I wouldn't bet on it. I need someone competent, not someone who got selected merely due to blood status, to handle my legal matters.
He knew he had to take these matters into hand now, or regret it. Even if it meant a second visit to Diagon Alley and more unwanted attention. Now that everything was properly registered, it was time for him to make some decisions as the Head of House Black.
After all, if he was forced to hold this title, he should at least use it in way that would make all Blacks of past times scream in utter despair.
...two days later, the Tonks home...
"Well, your cousin has made the headlines two days in a row. Either it's a slow news day, or he must have ruffled a lot of feathers with his sudden reappearance," Ted Tonks commented while reading the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet at the breakfast table.
"He certainly likes to have the maximum shock effect, though I think in this case he just had no other choice. Although in two days there was nothing of actual substance, we still have no idea what happened." Andromeda then gave her now 12-year old daughter a scolding look. "Nymphadora, please don't shovel your cereal into yourself like that."
"Mum, what did I tell you about that name?" The girl by now hated her name, having been teased about it all year at Hogwarts.
Andromeda did look annoyed. "I honestly can't understand why you are complaining about your name."
Nymphadora's hair turned red. "Well, you don't have to suffer living with it! It's social poison!"
Ted tried to tune out that particular argument and hide behind the newspaper. It got really old after a while and he felt it should be their daughter's choice what she wanted to be called outside of legal matters. Now I regret that I gave in to Andy when it came to naming our daughter. 'Gwen' would have saved us so much drama.
-vrroproprop- -screeetch-
Andromeda and Nymphadora stopped their argument when hearing what sounded like a motorcycle through the kitchen window. That was unusual in itself since they lived a bit outside of the village and no one normally visited them - a least no one using a vehicle with a combustion engine. A few moments later, someone knocked on the door.
"I'll get it!" Nymphadora said and ran to the door, clearly to escape from the argument with her mother re-igniting. For a moment there was silence, then suddenly there was a squee of joy. "Uncle Sirius!"
Now THAT got their attention and they walked to the front door, to see their daughter hugging Sirius.
"I would hug you, but that space clearly is already taken," Andromeda said in amusement, though that was her way to show how relieved she was that Sirius had come out of his chosen exile.
"I'm sorry you had to read about me first, but there was some stuff I had to clear up before I could come here," Sirius tried to apologize, noting how much bigger Nymphadora had gotten during his absence.
"Oh no, don't blame yourself. I can fully understand a lot was dumped onto you with what happened," Andromeda stopped him.
"You know, you caused a big media circus, made the front page of the Daily Prophet two days in a row. Of course, the actual substance of these reports is low in relation to how much they write about you," Ted remarked, holding up that day's front page he'd still held in his hand.
"Well, I wouldn't know since I tend to avoid magical media like there is no tomorrow," Sirius remarked while taking a look at the front page. "Just as I guessed, mostly speculation, little actual facts. Outside of their bubble, this wouldn't be even used as a butt-wipe."
"Sirius!" Andromeda warned him to stop using that language.
Thankfully, Nymphadora only giggled at that, finally letting go of him. "You missed me going to Hogwarts," she complained, her hair turning acid-green. "However, you can make it up to me!"
Andromeda and Ted already had an idea that their daughter was demanding compensation for four missed years. That however could wait while they ushered these two back to the breakfast table, pulling up an additional chair for Sirius.
"I really missed a lot. So, which house is my little Nymphie in?" Sirius asked, then saw how the girl looked really sour, with the green of her hair turning darker. "Guess you no longer want to be called that?"
"I was teased horribly the entire school year over my name! I'm blaming Mum for this!" she complained, looking very unhappy. Andromeda wisely didn't say anything, seeing it would only add fuel to the fire.
"Would just calling you Dora be acceptable? That's a perfectly fine name," Sirius offered. The girl seemed to think about it, before nodding. "Good, then what house are you in, Dora?"
"I'm a Hufflepuff!" she said proudly, her hair turning to yellow and black stripes.
Sirius held back any comments about Hufflepuffs. Some really good pals during school had been Hufflepuffs - they were very reliable, too. Hufflepuff simply had the misfortune to be seen as a dumping ground for those that didn't make it into the other houses and always got trampled over by said houses inside the school. He honestly couldn't remember the last time Hufflepuff won the House Cup. No, he would not say one bad word about them.
Sirius let her talk about her adventures and misadventures at Hogwarts for some time, feeling Dora really earned getting the full attention after him being absent for so long. Most of it was quite amusing, like her using the toilet in which Moaning Myrtle had been resting, but her complaints about Snape being a bad teacher were not. He had warned Dumbledore that this would be a horrible idea, but clearly the man hadn't listened and this was the end result. It took Dora almost half an hour to finally exhaust what she could tell him of her first school year.
"Wow, you really enjoy Hogwarts... well, aprt from some bumps on the road," Sirius finally said, tactfully ignoring the various incidents caused by her clumsiness she had mentioned as well. "You certainly experienced a lot. But now I need to ask your parents how they are faring. Especially Andromeda, considering..."
Andromeda knew what this was about. "He was my father... Yet, all these years of him constantly hurting me with his indifference after disowning me numbed the impact. I'm still sad, but it's muted."
"Andy, I told you not to blame yourself," Ted reminded his wife, holding her hands. "He has no one to blame but his own bigotry that you don't grieve much for him."
"I know, but it still hurts that thanks to him, I can't even attend his funeral. You know, only selected people and members of the House of Black," Andromeda lamented.
"Well, that is no problem anymore! As of two days ago, I'm now due to inheritance laws the Head of House Black and all that entails it," Sirius finally dropped the bomb.
There was silence for some moments, before Andromeda stood up and gave Sirius a piercing look. "Sirius. What exactly have you done?"
Sirius knew there was no threat. "Only corrected a grave injustice that was done to you and your family. Remember, I'm now the Head of House Black, so I now make its rules. Therefore I decided it was about time to modernize everything and undo injustices done in the name of the house."
Finally the Penny dropped for Andromeda. "You mean...?"
"As of this morning your disowning and disinheritance are undone. Moreover, while you are the Tonks family, also as of this morning, your family is now part of the greater Black clan. Also, as the Head, it fell into my responsibility to decide what to do with Cygnus' private fortune, as he arrogantly left no last will," Sirius explained to the astonished Tonks family.
"I... I need to sit down." Andromeda seemed a bit shocked at this sudden change. "I never thought I would... Sirius, you didn't need to..."
"I did because you earned it. It was rightfully yours and was taken away simply because they were too bigoted to accept the man you love." It was clear that Sirius would not take back that decision. "I finally righted a long-stranding wrong."
"Does that mean we are rich now?" Dora finally asked after some second of silence.
"Nymphadora Tonks! This is not a topic for now and especially not for you," Ted warned his daughter, making it clear they would talk about that topic only later. The girl wisely shut up.
Andromeda gave her daughter a look that made it clear that her comment had been insensitive. Then she remembered something. "But what about...?"
"Your sisters?" Sirius had expected that question. "Well, I of course cut out Bellatrix in all ways possible. Would you believe they still had her as a full member of the family and set to get a part of the fortune? No, that psycho and her equally bad husband are removed in all legal ways possible and the only thing that will still document anything is the family tapestry."
Andromeda was not broken over that. She had expected Sirius to take that step. "What about Narcissa?"
"Well, first she of course doesn't need anything since she actually married into wealth and money with dear Lucius, so you get the whole inheritance from Cygnus. But there is more to it." Sirius had been a bit reluctant to do it, but there was little choice if he wanted to make sure. "I could not risk leaving Narcissa and her line in the inheritance rules, since I knew Lucius would have made his own son a puppet to get the fortune if given the chance. Thus they are legally cut out from getting anything, fortune or influence-wise."
Andromeda noticed that Sirius had not cut out Narcissa like he did with Bellatrix. "I don't want to imagine her reaction to these news."
"Knowing how efficient the new man is I hired for doing my legal matters, she should get the notification any moment, even though its a Sunday," Sirius remarked, looking on his wristwatch.
o
There were a number of misconceptions about the Malfoy family. One of these was, that they always acted like they did in public. That however was something no one would realistically manage to keep up all the time. Thus when no one was present and they felt safe in the security of their own home, they acted not that different from other families.
This morning was a good example.
Instead of using the big dining room for breakfast, they were instead taking it in a much smaller room with a normal-sized table. After all, the big room was for impressing people, and right now there was no one to impress. That also was why all three of them were not exactly presentable. Since they did not have any appointments on this Sunday, they felt they could relax and be much less stiff than normal.
That was why Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were wearing dressing gowns over their sleepwear while their son Draco sat there in his long sleeping gown. Lucius and Draco also were sporting significant bed hair, while Narcissa still had her hair in curlers. Lucius was occupied with the Daily Prophet, only snorting whenever his eyes looked at an article about Sirius. Narcissa was busy with sorting through the day's mail, while young Draco was fully occupied with his cereal.
However, no one should be fooled. Despite this picture, the Malfoys still were an incredibly bigoted, old-fashioned pure-blood family, who gladly would walk over dead bodies to achieve their goals.
Lucius lowered the newspaper and one look at his empty coffee cup was signal enough for Dobby the house-elf to step forward and refill it. "It's disgraceful how much attention the press is giving this blood-traitor."
Narcissa looked up from an invitation from the 'Society for the Preservation of Wizarding Culture'. "Let them. The masses are not getting anything of worth out of it anyway. Your contacts in the Ministry finding out what exactly happened is actually important."
Lucius looked a little displeased at the mention. "There is no news yet. I'm still rebuilding my net, but Bagnold is proving to be difficult and showing no signs of retiring. It'll be much easier once that witch is gone and we have a Minister who... listens more to reason."
It was an open secret that Millicent Bagnold had little love for the Death Eaters that did an Imperius-defense. Even though she could not stop them from clawing their way back into the system, she did everything she could to slow them down. The problem just was, that her bureaucracy was way too receptive to those with lots of money. It was just a matter of time and patience.
At that moment, a bird flew in through the open window.
However, it was a rather unusual bird, since unlike the normal owls or the ravens that Gringotts used - goblins were strange like that - it was a vulture. Not many would use such a bird for the mail, since they were not native to the British Isles and thus attracted attention. The bird dropped a thick envelope in front of Narcissa and then left again through the open window.
"A vulture as a mail carrier? That means it concerns legal proceedings," Lucius said, noticing how Draco had been really fascinated by the big bird.
"It's from Shark Solicitors & Barristers," Narcissa read on the envelope. "Strange, I thought Mr. Howe is still responsible for all legal matters concerning House Black?"
Lucius raised an eyebrow. Mr. Shark - not his actual name but one everyone used it by now - and his law firm were quite expensive and generally avoided by the old families due to Mr. Shark being a half-blood who had worked his way up from a low class. The name he used for business signaled how efficient he was for his clients. That was not a man to have a legal battle with.
Narcissa meanwhile had opened the envelope and started to read the letter that came with the stack of legal papers. Her eyes widened and she clearly had trouble to control herself. "Dobby, escort Draco to his room."
"Mother?" Draco wondered if he had done something wrong.
"No, you have done nothing wrong. Me and your father, we only have to talk about something that would bore you," she explained to her son.
Accepting the explanation, Draco was led away by the house-elf, who was relieved that it looked like there would be no self-punishment for the time being. Narcissa waited until they could hear the door close upstairs, before dropping the calm front and becoming red with anger.
"This is an affront! Lucius, read this!" Narcissa finally exploded, handing her husband the latter from the law firm.
Mr. Malfoy did exactly that and the more he read, the more he became offended as well. He could understand why his wife, normally a very calm woman, had become so angry. "This hoodlum and blood-traitor as the Head of the House of Black?! Due to feodum talliatum? Unbelievable!"
"Oh, it gets worse, Lucius!" Narcissa prepared her husband for more bad news.
Reading further, he was tempted to rip the letter to pieces. "He gave all of Cygnus' private fortune to Andromeda while you get nothing at all?!"
Narcissa had been truly broken over her father's death and just recovered from it, when this bomb hit. It enraged Lucius to no end that Sirius would trample over his wife's feelings like that - though he was equally angry that it meant House Malfoy would get not a single Knut out of that inheritance.
Reading even further, Lucius dropped the letter in shock, now pale after reading about the most severe of Sirius' decisions. "He can't do that!"
"I'm afraid he can." Narcissa's anger had left her, and now she looked like she wanted to hide under a blanket. "Me, Draco and any future children and grandchildren, while still acknowledged as an offshoot of House Black, won't get anything. No money, no heirlooms, no titles... He cut us off from it."
That left the Malfoys shocked.
They knew they were impotent to do anything against this decision, as Sirius did have every right to do it. However, at the back of their heads they knew, one day they would get back at him for this slight. Yes, one day they would get even with him.
...Black family cemetery, August 3rd...
There usually were several ways a funeral could go. There were truly heartfelt ones, were all those in attendance were honestly grieving. There were those were the grievers were divided into camps. Those, where no one actually would truly miss the deceased. And those where things did not go according to plan.
However, none of these categories fit to the funeral of Cygnus and Walburga Black on the Black family cemetery. The way to describe that one would be 'like a demilitarized zone'.
The reason for this was quite simple: the presence of Sirius Black and Andromeda Tonks.
Sirius had not exactly gunned for being at the funeral, but in the end, he had two reasons for attending. First, as the Head of House Black he was obligated to attend and there was only so much he could ignore etiquette. More important, he was present to protect Andromeda, who was attending, since despite everything, it was her father's funeral.
Of course that caused tensions with all the other people present, without fault wizards and witches from old pure-blood families on the same wavelength as the late Blacks. The Malfoys did stand out, giving Sirius barely disguised looks of sheer hatred and were not much nicer to Andromeda. It was clear they would have loved nothing more than to attack them right on the spot
It was only the Auror presence that stopped this funeral from descending into violence.
Even someone with just one eye could spot that we don't belong to them, Sirius mused.
That was not too difficult to to the way they dressed. Andromeda clearly had been influenced by Ted and did wear an actual black dress. He himself did wear the same suit and hat combination he did at the funeral of the Potters. That of course clashed with all the other wizards and witches present, who all wore wizard robes. For Sirius and Andromeda, it was another sign how they no longer belonged to that crowd.
I'm here for Andromeda. She at least retained some feelings for her father, despite his actions against her. My dear Mum however... I want to make sure she is under the earth and really gone.
Both of them held some distance during the entire ceremony, just in case..
Only now did both of them realize how much they had already alienated themselves from pure-blood society. The burial rituals, which before had been a normal thing to them, now appeared old-fashioned and outright archaic. That everything was said in Latin - something even a number of pure-bloods struggled with - only added to the picture.
When it finally was done and the graves filled up with earth by magic, Sirius turned to Andromeda. "Are you all right, Andy?"
"Yes... I thought it would be harder, but it seems all the hurt I got over the years impacted me more than I thought. Perhaps we should go now?" Andromeda asked her cousin.
However, before the could do so, they were stopped by the Malfoy couple. Narcissa gave Andromeda a very cold look that made it clear she disliked her sister with all of her heart, while Lucius appeared quite controlled.
"Your actions marked you, Black," Mr. Malfoy told him calmly, though the danger in his voice was clear.
"Is that a threat?" Sirius asked, noting how the Aurors had their hands on their wands.
"No, it's not. Merely a reminder that the day will come, when you are held responsible for your past actions," Malfoy said, then turned around to leave with his wife.
"Just like you were held responsible for your past actions? Oh, right, you claimed you were not in your right mind," Sirius remarked, playing upon Malfoy using the Imperius-defense.
The Malfoys stopped for a short moment, Mr. Malfoy tensing like he wanted to draw his wand, but then they acted like they hadn't heard anything and went on. They clearly were not stupid enough to try anything with so much law enforcement being present. Sirius could only shake his head in disappointment.
"Sirius, did you have to poke the hornet's nest?" Andromeda hissed.
"I only wanted him to realize the lines are drawn. I'm not naive, Andy, I know he will try to get back at me, regardless what I do." He was under no illusion; especially Lucius Malfoy never forgot a slight. It was better to draw the battle lines right away than delude yourself that nothing would come out of it.
They were about to leave, when Sirius noticed the grave beside those of his parents. "You know, we never learned what actually happened to Reggie."
Andromeda knew that the death of Regulus had hurt Sirius, even if he tried to hide it. "Is it that important? He died due to this madman and even then your parents felt that the man was doing the right thing."
Sirius looked at the tombstone of the empty grave - as the body of Regulus had never been recovered - one final time, before turning around and leaving the cemetery together with Andromeda. He would never admit that the continued mystery of how Regulus had died, which his parents had only learned of from the big family tapestry, had never let him go.
...Hogwarts kitchens, August 12th...
"For the final time, Kreacher is not a free elf!" Kreacher hissed, clearly being very annoyed by now. Kreacher had lived through many things in his already long life, but this treatment from the other elves at Hogwarts was starting to annoy him severely.
While he had grown to actually like this new arrangement, since there was lots to do - much more than in the past few years - and he only had little contact with his Master, the behavior of the other elves was not something he did enjoy. At first they had kept their distance and looked at him in pity. Then, after the first weekend where he cared for the house, upon his return the pity became even worse. Thus, finally, he became annoyed enough to ask what was wrong.
As it turned out, these elves mistook his uniform for clothes and thought that he had been given clothes and was a free elf! The mere thought they would think this of him was a massive insult. To make it worse, they then had assumed due to his absence that he did have a free weekend! That they would think so was outright baffling to Kreacher.
These elves must be blind to not see that Kreacher is a proud elf of House Black! he thought.
He had repeatedly reminded them of the coat of arms on his uniform, which clearly marked him as a servant of House Black, and insisted vehemently that he was not a free elf. Sadly, these elves clearly didn't believe him - as was shown right now.
"Then why is Kreacher wearing clothes?" one particularly annoying elf asked. She had been on his case since day one.
"Also for the final time: these are not clothes! Masters insisted that Kreacher show the glory of House Black. Kreacher thus made this uniform himself and is proudly showing his allegiance!" Kreacher made sure to show off the coat of arms on the front. He then gave her a smug look, having an idea. "Kreacher does wonder, why the questions? After all, Kreacher does not see any of you walk around naked."
There were some gasps at this bold declaration, but the point stood that they were all covered up.
Seeing that he now did have the advantage, Kreacher pressed his point. "What all of you wear was made by yourselves, and not given to you by your Master. Kreacher is wearing the same thing as all of you, only Kreacher's does show the glory of the House of Black."
Seeing that he had made his point, Kreacher returned to work. After all, these muffins needed to be baked and the day only had so many hours.
While most elves saw that the last word was spoken, others started to whisper to each other. "Never thought of the rule like that. You think Kreacher is correct with it?"
"Very confusing matter. Kreacher insists on having a Master and that these are not clothes."
"What should be the best thing to do?"
"Wait we should. Wait and observe. An enigma Kreacher is. We need time to observe and come to a consensus."
The house-elves of Hogwarts had never before met such a strange elf. Add to it that he was quite a bit older than most of them - which normally meant much respect in their society - and waiting until they could agree on a course of action seemed like the only possible option at the moment.
...August 21st...
Agernon Longbottom was an Unspeakable. Working in the Department of Mysteries tended to make you virtually immune to fear after some time, due to all the dangerous to downright horrific stuff you worked with on a daily basis. Normally, nothing could make him afraid anymore, after having seen it all. However, being confronted by the very angry father of his great-nephew caused a feeling of terror he'd thought long forgotten to fill him.
"Agernon, what in all names were you thinking?!" Frank Longbottom hissed in anger, barely stopping himself from beating up the man with his cane. Right now he was not seeing his uncle, but the man who almost killed his son.
The day had started normal. The extended Longbottom family had taken a vacation to Blackpool in Lancashire, a place where Frank and Alice could relax and for Augusta's husband Jonathan to find recovery. It seemed that he had developed a chronic sickness and the healers were still struggling to find out how to help him. Things had been normal and relaxed... at least until Agernon suddenly had shoved Neville off the end of the pier into the sea. If it hadn't been for Alice jumping into the water to rescue the boy who couldn't yet swim, causing herself injury in the process, their son would have drowned.
While mother and son were under the care of a healer, Frank was still waiting for an answer. "Well, I'm waiting!"
"W-well, I thought... You know he didn't show..." Agernon stammered.
"You were trying to force magic out of him?" Frank's eyes narrowed. "That was why you almost killed my son? That?!"
Agernon felt his knees starting to shake. "I-I thought... i-if he's a squib..."
"You felt that dead is better than being a squib, correct?" The silence was answer enough for Frank. "You clearly didn't know that since our retirement we closely observed our son, and his accidental magic is quite subtle but very active."
Agernon looked floored by that declaration, but Frank Longbottom was not done yet. "As of this day I never want to see you anywhere near Neville again. Even Mother and Father won't be able to change my mind. You are an obvious danger to him with your hairbrained ideas."
Agernon wanted to protest, but was silenced with one hard look. Knowing that he would not be able to change his nephew's mind, he left to pack and then leave. He had a feeling that he wouldn't see Neville for a very long time.
"Idiot..." Frank cursed, then entered the house where he and his family were staying.
The house was silent, apart from his steps and the sound of the tip of his cane hitting the floor. Entering the room where his wife and son were treated, he saw that the healer had already left and Alice was reasonably well, even though she was in bed. Their son was right next to her, holding onto her and having fallen asleep.
"What did the healer say?" Frank asked his wife.
Alice sighed. "Don't worry about me, and Neville is now physically fine, but..." Now she looked sad. "I think this has been deeply traumatizing for him. Someone he trusted almost killed him. You found out why he did it?"
Frank snorted. "I did. He wanted to force accidental magic out of him, ignorant of the fact that Neville has done quite a bit of it."
"Well, our son won't anymore after such a shock." Alice held their son closer.
"And I made sure Agernon won't try anything again. I banished him from ever coming near our son again." Sitting down on the bed, Frank took a look at the sleeping Neville. "He looks more vulnerable than before."
"I feel the difference in him; while before he was bursting with energy, it's all muted now. We can't expect any magic from him for a long time. Trust a mother to know such things," Alice told her husband.
Both Longbottoms were truly angry with Agernon, who thoughtlessly had caused their son injuries that went far deeper than anything physical. For a child to suddenly stop showing the signs of magic hinted at a very serious problem. All of a sudden their son's future, which had always seemed so bright, had dimmed considerably.
...September 2nd, first day of the new school year...
"Now, don't be afraid, Harry. School is about learning new things and making new friends," Thomas reminded Harry while both of them approached St. Grogory's Primary School.
"Uh, yes, Uncle Tom." Harry tried to hide it, but he was very nervous.
Thomas had to chuckle. Them being called 'Uncle Tom' and 'Aunti Verni' had stuck, and they honestly didn't mind Harry calling them that, since to them it was a sign of affection. They were never trying to replace Harry's parents while still giving him all the love he needed. That it was only him escorting Harry to his first school day was due to Veronica being quite busy with little Mark and Sirius and Remus both already being at work - Sirius at the police and Remus buying teaching materials for his upcoming weekend classes.
Of course they had been sad they would miss this moment, but on the other hand, perhaps not crowding Harry was better. The young boy otherwise would most likely have lost his nerves. After all, this was a big step for Harry.
Harry himself tried not to freak out. The school uniform he was now wearing felt strange to him after all his life wearing loose and comfortable clothes. That thing around his neck, which Thomas had to bind for him, was not much comfortable, either.
"See, there is the school gate, and look at all the other children being escorted by their parents," Thomas told Harry, pointing out the obvious.
Seeing so many boys and girls his age being escorted to the school by their parents, Harry calmed down a bit. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad?
An hour later, Harry was quite excited.
After an introduction speech by the Headmaster, the new first-year students had been shown through the entire school and introduced to the place they would become very familiar with for the next six years. Harry had never thought there would be so much to a school! Right now the first years were divided into their respective classrooms for the next six years.
Harry only listened with half an ear and almost missed raising his hand when his name was called.
It was only when sitting at his seat and listening to the further introduction to the school, that he looked around. Most of the boys and girls looked nice enough and he did spot some children from the direct neighborhood. However, he froze when he spotted someone in particular.
Oh no, not him!
Dudley had tried to seek him out several times since the first unpleasant meeting, clearly to be mean to him. Harry thankfully at those time had always been with an adult. Now however Harry wondered what Dudley would do at school, and all of a sudden school didn't look to be that great anymore if he had to share classes with Dudley of all people.
At first he had wondered why Dudley looked so much fatter than he remembered, until realizing that it wasn't that Dudley had become fatter than he already was - the uniform he was wearing wasn't nearly as big as his usual clothes, thus showing the boy's overweight body much more clearly. Judging by the looks of disgust from the girls close to his seat, they also felt it was not a nice sight.
Dudley had not noticed him, but Harry had a feeling this would change all too soon.
It would be a long school year.
o
Ronald Weasley was not exactly a happy boy at the moment. Oh, he wasn't angy, just disappointed, though he should have seen this coming, since the twins were in the same situation. He'd heard stories from Bill and Charlie that they had been home-schooled, and actually saw Percy getting lessons from their mother. Alas, this would not be the case for him and he felt outside of his comfort zone.
"Now, Ronald, be on your best behavior. This is the place you'll spend the next six years learning at, so you need to give them a good impression," his mother, Molly Weasley, told her youngest son while they approached the school in Ottery St. Catchpole, a town in Devon.
"Will be hard, they've already had Fred and George for two years," Ron grumbled, feeling this wouldn't be fun at all.
"Oh, don't worry about them. I ensured they will be on their best behavior and also won't bother you," she assured her son.
"If you say so, Mum." Ron was skeptical about that, since he knew what the twins were like. No way anyone could make them fall in line.
Molly Weasley felt no need to reveal to him that Fred and George had tried to do their usual antics at the school, but that had gotten them into serious trouble, so she had given them an ultimatum. Either they would be on their best behavior at school, or they could forget attending Hogwarts. The threat to leave them magically illiterate - a threat she would not have made true of course - had scared these two troublemakers into compliance.
Oh, how she wished there wouldn't be the need for sending some of their children to a Muggle school, but sadly there was little other choice.
She had wanted to home-school all of the children, but had not expected they would have so many of them. Her plans for home-schooling ran into a wall with the birth of Fred and George. Already having experienced how time-intensive home-schooling was with her eldest son Bill, the time constraints gave her little other choice. Starting with the twins, their children would have to attend the public school in the town close to their home.
She held no illusions that such constant contact with Muggles wouldn't change their children in their mentality. Fred and George were already quoting things that neither she nor Arthur did get and they were always bringing strange stuff home, like comic books, small gadgets and once even something they thought was a moving picture made by Muggles, though it turned out to merely be an illusion picture. While her husband was fascinated by it, she felt a bit overwhelmed.
"Now, here you go. And remember the first rule," she reminded Ron.
Ron knew that rule too well, he had heard it often enough. "No talk about magic stuff. I got it, Mum."
Watching her son walk into the school, Molly couldn't help but sigh. Even though her youngest son didn't say it aloud, he deep inside did resent her for giving Ginny, her youngest and her only daughter, so much attention. Clearly, Ron had come to the conclusion that Ginny was her favorite. She was at a loss how to convince him that this wasn't the case, though at least he didn't seem to hold any grudge against Ginny herself.
Hopefully, Ginny entering school next year convinces him I'm not playing favorites with her, she hoped.
Ron a little later was no too bored. The school was not that big, even though it was built for the children in the surrounding villages, thus the introduction ceremony was thankfully not too long. After being shown around the school, he now was at his seat in the classroom, where the teacher explained to her students how the year would go.
Well, Bill, Charlie and Percy never went through this, so I guess I have that over them, he thought.
Though it still didn't make him feel especially special.
Glancing around, he did notice the things that normally were not found at the Burrow. His father was really mad about Muggle stuff, and Fred and George did show off some stuff they got after school, but this was essentially the first time he could look at these things without his mother's supervision. While he was not like his father, these things did catch his interest.
Perhaps school would not be as bad as he imagined it to be?
o
"Oh, I can't wait!" little Hermione Granger gushed in excitement while her parents escorted her to her first day of school in the Hampstead Garden Suburb of London. "Do I have everything?" she worried.
Jean Granger smiled at her daughter's excitement. "Easy, Hermione! Remember this is just the first day and the introduction to the school. You won't learn anything yet today."
"Really? Oh, that's too bad." The girl looked a bit disappointed.
"Oh, patience, princess! You'll get to the good things soon enough," Ian Granger reminded his daughter.
Young Hermione accepted that and then again felt a bit uncomfortable with the skirt that came with the school uniform. As far as she could remember, she had felt a bit uncomfortable with dresses - though she would wear them - and this skirt also felt a bit alien. She knew she would get used to it, but that didn't change she for now didn't exactly enjoy wearing it.
Jean saw their daughter try to to adjust her skirt and she knew that Hermione, who very early on clearly felt a bit exposed wearing a skirt, would have to get used to it. However, what really stood out to her husband and her was their daughter's high intellect. Granted, it was an advantage that being born in September she was months older than most students in her year, but that didn't explain her already good speech patterns and the fact that she already knew half the alphabet and started serious reading attempts.
Ever since then Hermione was fascinated with books. It caused her parents some concern, since they had noticed that Hermione's interactions with the children in their neighborhood had become quite a bit rarer in the months previous to starting school. Hopefully, being in a school environment would reverse this concerning trend, as they had no wish for their daughter to isolate herself socially.
Nearing the school, Hermione saw other parents escorting their children to the school doors.
"Now, don't be intimidated. See, there are teachers right after the doors who'll guide you where you need to go," Mr. Granger told Hermione, pointing out the two teachers next to the doors.
After one more hug from them, Hermione entered the school.
"I hope she fits in. The previous months were alarming and you know what they say about gifted children and social interaction," Mrs. Granger worried.
"I know. When I asked her why she wasn't outside a few weeks ago, she told me the books are simply so fascinating, even though she only knew a third of the letters of the alphabet by that point. I don't know what to make of that," Mr. Granger replied, being concerned.
A bit later, Hermione was nervous.
She remembered everything her parents had told her, but now sitting in a classroom, even if it only was for being told how things would go, was a completely new experience. She frowned a little after the teacher was done when seeing the other children already building small clusters while excitedly talking to each other. No one had attempted to do that with her. On the other hand, perhaps that was due to her not approaching anyone on her own accord?
Perhaps she should try to approach some of the other girls?
She didn't realize it, but deep inside she felt insecure. The easiness with which she had interacted with other children had been lost over the past year and she now was wondering how to go at it. Being smart also had the disadvantage, that you tended to overthink things instead of trusting your gut feeling and take the initiative.
She however would learn about that fact rather fast, much to her displeasure.
to be continued...
Next Episode:
"The Evolution of Hogwarts"
Notes:
Here the notes.
In case you wonder, I did the research and John Blatchly really was the headmaster of Ipswitch School at that time. I felt I needed to show Dumbledore actually doing the research.
Now, in case you wonder why Kreacher didn't simply get Walburga to St. Mungo's, first remember that he was stressed. Then however there also is the fact that Walburga ordered him to get help, not get her to the help. Even if he had tried, he couldn't have gone against that order.
Sirius is reminded here, that he can't run away from things permanently, but in the end he realized that with his current position, he now is able to completely demolish all the old House of Black stood for, and first thing of course was to undo the injustice done to Andromeda. Of course the Malfoys now hate him like the plague.
My headcanon is, that in canon the decade Kreacher was alone, he no longer cared about his appearance and thus wore the rags we do see him in. Here, Sirius stopped him from letting go of himself. Indeed, I actually had fun writing Kreacher's frustration with the other elves thinking he got freed. Also, irony, had Kreacher not gotten the wrong impression, he would have been handed over to Narcissa.
Ah yes, the other child characters appear. However, considering how young they are, it will be more years, before they become more active. I hope you like the domino effect, which caused the Weasleys to handle schooling different.