July 1994, summer of 4rd year
It had been Harry's decision to visit the house his godfather had left him and personally inspect it with Lynea and the adults and so they were now standing in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The disrepair was already visible from the outside – from the dirty wall and grimy windows to the battered, black door on top of the worn-down stairs. The door handle was a silver serpent that sizzled with magic and was connected to a set of wards designed to keep unwanted guests and enemies out of the house.
Naenia let Perseus take the lead and open the door. Perseus had once been the first-born son of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, but they had disowned him for some reason and made his younger brother Orion Black, the father of the late Sirius Black, the heir instead. Lynea didn't know how or why he had died at such a young age – maybe in his late teens or early twenties, he certainly looked younger than Naenia – but she knew that his body had been deliberately placed on the doorstep of the Lémure estate as some kind of message to Naenia.
Regardless, Perseus was still a Black and even disowned had still been allowed to live in his family's house, so it was safer to let him go first in case the wards did not recognize Harry as the legitimate heir. Perseus was also undead, so it wasn't like any malicious spells and enchantments could do him much harm.
There were some metallic noises, indicating the mechanism that held the door closed being activated, and then the door swung open to reveal a dark and dusty hallway.
Perseus looked back at Naenia, who waved him inside, and then turned to face the large painting of an old woman that had clearly seen better days. The colours were off and made her look like somewhat mad with her yellowish skin and faded hair and robes. Or maybe the portrait was mad, having hung there on the wall for decades without human company and the care of proper maintenance and restoration.
"Hello, cousin," Perseus said mildly as Lynea and Harry followed Naenia and Phyllida inside.
There were old gas-lamps lining the walls that Naenia lit with a wave of her hand. They cast the hallway into a rather gloomy light, barely illuminating the portraits and an ugly umbrella stand next to the portrait of the old woman Perseus was talking with.
"You," the woman hissed. "You left the family years ago! And now you stand here, looking just like you did before you disappeared without a trace. How can this be?"
"I died, Walburga," Perseus said in a calm voice.
"You probably deserved it, you filthy blood traitor!"
Next to Lynea, Naenia let out a light huff.
"Do I?" Perseus asked mildly. "All I ever did wrong was not being good enough for you, so my parents decided to marry you to little Orion instead. I never betrayed our family."
"Why are you here?" Walburga hissed. "What do you want?"
"Hello, Walburga," Naenia said and stepped forward. "It has been an awfully long time for mortal standards, hasn't it? Look at you, old and full of wrinkles. I must say, you have aged terribly. And you were only one year older than me, if I remember correctly."
The old woman narrowed her eyes and started a tirade of screeching and swearing. Naenia only sighed and silenced her with a flick of her hand. The woman in the portrait continued to rage, but not a single sound reached their ears.
"Now, then," Naenia said. "There must be a house-elf around here somewhere. Let's find a place that is more spacious and see if we can call him."
She opened a door and swept into what looked like a dining room. There was a heavy wooden table in the middle with matching chairs all around it. In one corner stood a dark drawer that was rattling ominously, but only contained huge spiders, table ware made of china and nothing nasty. Next to it stood a low table with carefully arranged photographs whose occupants watched them warily.
"This will do," Naenia said "Harry? If you would please call out the name 'Kreacher'."
Harry nodded and did as asked and with a loud crack a house-elf appeared right on the table. Phyllida raised her brows at the elf's lack of manners, but said nothing.
Kreacher was apparently a very, very old house-elf. His skin was wrinkled and hang loosely on his bones, there was white hair growing out of his ears, his eyes were watery and blood-short and he wore nothing more than a dirty loincloth.
He bowed low, so low that his nose was squished against the table. "The new master has called and Kreacher has obeyed. What can Kreacher do for the master?"
"Er," Harry looked at Naenia and back at Kreacher, obviously unsure what to do.
"Kreacher," Perseus said and Kreacher raised his head slightly from his bow to look at him.
The elf's eyes widened. "Young master! You have returned! Oh, how the late masters would have rejoiced! Kreacher always knew young master would return, Kreacher did. Kreacher was sure of it. But Kreacher has waited so long. Kreacher had lost all hope. Oh, if the mistress knew, her broken heart would surely mend."
Lynea wondered whether the elf was talking about the same mistress whose portrait had insulted Perseus in the hallway.
"Kreacher," Perseus said and the elf abruptly closed his mouth. "How long have you been alone in here?"
"Nine years," Kreacher said in a sad voice. "It has been nine years since the mistress died."
Naenia tilted her head slightly and Perseus asked, "And no one came by? No one at all?"
Kreacher shook his head. "No one has entered Grimmauld Place since the mistress died."
"Interesting," Naenia said. "I know that Arcturus, Pollux and Cygnus only died during the last two to four years. I would have thought they would not have let the house fall to such disrepair."
Lynea had at least heard of those names. Her father had drilled nearly every pureblood family's genealogy in her head, after all. Arcturus had been the head of the House of Black previous to his son Orion. Pollux had been Arcturus' cousin and Walburga's father. And Cygnus had been her brother and father to three daughters, one of which was Draco's mother.
Kreacher, who had been watching Naenia with narrowed eyes, muttering under his breath, abruptly bowed again. "Mistress Lémure, what an honour. Please forgive Kreacher for not recognizing you sooner. Kreacher has grown old and Kreacher has not seen one of the highly esteemed Lémure family in so long."
Naenia sighed. "Kreacher." The elf straightened his posture and tried to look alert. "This is Harry Potter, your new master."
"Potter?" the elf muttered. "Kreacher only knows of blood traitors with the name Potter. Surely the mistress can't mean that Kreacher's new master is a blood traitor."
Lynea raised her brows at the sudden change in attitude.
Harry paled. "Excuse me?"
Kreacher gave him a dirty look. "Maybe the boy even is a halfbreed. Oh, what would the mistress say, if she knew of it. Oh, the shame of it. Poor old Kreacher, what can he do, serving a blood traitor brat."
"I think," Lynea said carefully. "That elf is quite mad."
"Ten years without a living soul in sight can do that to you," Phyllida said with pity in her eyes.
But Naenia shook her head. "The muttering and the filthy appearance may be new, but the Black house-elves have always shared the fanatical pureblood ideology the family advocated. The House of Black has always been one of the more extreme pureblood families. Walburga and Orion were certainly fitting right in."
"Well," Phyllida said. "It is up to Harry what we do with him. I do not think such an old elf would be able to change the views that have been ingrained into his very nature for hundreds of years, but it might be worth a try."
"I don't want him," Harry said immediately, looking at Kreacher in disgust.
"He only has a few years left," Naenia said. "I doubt any family would want to take him in and he would not survive on his own."
"What am I supposed to do with him, then?" Harry asked. "I don't want him and he certainly doesn't want me to be his master, either."
"You could give him to someone else," Phyllida said.
"Like an object?" Harry asked reluctantly.
Phyllida sighed. "The matter of house-elves and their treatment is a very delicate and complicated one, Harry. We can discuss this more in-depth at a later point, if you wish, but right now I think it would be best to make a decision and then move on with the actual inspection of the house."
"Do we – do we need him for anything?"
Naenia tilted her head to the side. "I do not believe so."
"Then he could just, uhm, stay out of our way and mind his own business, I guess? Until I have decided what to do with him, at least."
"Order him to stay out of our way but not leave the house, then," Naenia said and waited for Harry to relay the order to Kreacher. "I think we shall begin with the basement, where I believe the kitchen is, and then go through each room up to the attic."
"Why don't we split into two groups?" Harry suggested. "That way we could go through everything faster."
"And leave faster," Lynea murmured, earning a small smile from Harry.
"No," Naenia said. "This house holds too many dark objects and enchantments. It would not be safe."
And so they stayed in their group of five and slowly went through every single room of the house. The kitchen in the basement was damp and dirty, but held nothing of particular interest. Most of the bedrooms in the upper floors were much the same, having obviously not been looked after in several years. There were shrunken house-elf heads mounted on plaques on the walls next to the staircase. On the first floor they found a drawing room that Naenia took one look at and decided to inspect last. Phyllida stunned a ghoul lurking in one of the bathrooms and then bound it up to be dealt with at a later point. There were some nasty objects that tried to kill them here and there, like the grandfather clock and a set of ancient purple robes, but they only went after the living and so Naenia had an easy time dealing with them.
On the topmost floor were only two rooms – the bedrooms of Sirius and Regulus Black. Naenia quickly checked the first one for any dangers and then deemed it safe enough for Harry to have a look. Lynea entered it right behind him and blinked at the overwhelming amount of red and gold. Sirius Black had clearly been a Gryffindor and so very much not like a proper Black, if the Gryffindor banners and Muggle posters of motorcycles and girls in bikinis were any indication. Harry looked around in wonder and then stopped short as his eyes fell on a picture of four Hogwarts students. Lynea came to a halt beside him and looked at it over Harry's shoulder.
She recognized the younger versions of James Potter and Remus Lupin and even saw some familiar aspects in what she assumed was Sirius Black. The pictures the Daily Prophet had printed had not done him any more favours than years in Azkaban had. The fourth person, short and plump, must have been Peter Pettigrew, then, the traitor.
Harry reached out and tried to take the picture, but it would not let itself be removed from the wall. Naenia offered to remove it for him and Lynea stepped back to make space and went to inspect the books and letters scattered across the desk. There was a letter addressed to a 'Padfoot', signed by Harry's mother and a picture of baby Harry flying on a little broomstick with his mother laughing next to him.
"Harry?" Lynea said quietly. "I think you ought to see this."
Harry pocketed the picture Naenia had removed from the wall for him and came over. Lynea handed him the letter and the picture and then waited, watching him read through it very carefully, watching a number of emotions flicker across his face before he read it again and again. Lynea found it fascinating how joy and grief seemed to wage war behind his eyes, how the tears started to gather at the corners, how his lips and his hands trembled.
She carefully took him by the arm and set him down on the large bed (after removing all the dust, of course).
"We had a cat," Harry whispered, staring at the picture of himself and his mother. "And Sirius bought me my first broomstick … My parents knew Bathilda Bagshot and – oh, I believe it was Dumbledore who sent me that Invisibility Cloak."
"Dumbledore?" Naenia asked, an odd tone in her voice. "Why did Dumbledore have your Invisibility Cloak?"
Harry blinked, gathered his thoughts, then shrugged and looked back down at the letter again. "It says here that 'Dumbledore's still got his – my father's – Invisibility Cloak'. And I only received a small note when I got it for Christmas back in first year that basically said the same thing." He frowned. "My mum says that Dumbledore was friends with Gellert Grindelwald. Isn't that the dark wizard who caused a war even before the Dark Lord?"
Naenia laughed. "Oh, is that not widely known? I suppose the old man wanted to keep that a secret. They were most certainly friends. Dumbledore even loved him, once. There is a history there and it does not cast the old man in a good light."
"But Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, didn't he?" Harry asked. "I read about that on a Chocolate Frog Card."
"He did," Naenia said with a dark, gleeful sparkle in her eyes. "After hiding at Hogwarts for years, before the pressure to finally do something became too much. He could have ended it long before he did."
Harry nodded and then went back to the letter, tracing his fingers over the words and examining them carefully, seemingly accepting Naenia's words without a second thought.
Lynea didn't think Harry particularly disliked Dumbledore, he probably had a same opinion of him as she did – disliking his actions, not trusting him, but bot particularly disliking him as a person. But she had never asked, so she couldn't be sure. He was aware, though, that Naenia did not like the old man and Lynea thought he was smart enough no take everything her grand-aunt said at face value. Yes, Dumbledore had only defeated Grindelwald in 1945, after the man had already been waging war for many years. But no one apart from Dumbledore could truly say why he waited so long. For all they knew, there might be a perfectly valid reason for it. (Not that Lynea could think of any.)
Lynea stayed with Harry as the adults left to inspect the neighbouring room. By the time Harry had collected himself and put the letter and the picture in his pocket, the adults had already seen to the attic and were now waiting in the hallway. Now the only thing left for them was to inspect the drawing room on the first floor.
The room was no less dirty and dusty than the rest of the house, but it was filled with so much more magic, most of it foul and sinister, and the long, green curtains were buzzing with Doxys that had to be stunned and put away. Most of the cursed objects were arranged in glass-fronted cabinets next either side of the fireplace. Naenia and Perseus were the only ones to approach, while the others waited with raised wands in case something got past them.
Lynea and Harry examined an old tapestry that depicted the Black family tree embroidered in golden thread. Sirius Black was not on it – Lynea suspected he was the burned spot that had once held the name of one of Walburga's and Orion's children – but Perseus' name was still there, next to Lucretia and Orion, with tiny numbers indicating his birth and death (1924 to 1944) underneath.
Meanwhile, Naenia and Perseus – or what had once been Perseus, if one were to be exact – carefully looked into the cabinets, picked up some of the objects and put most of them back again. There were only a select few Naenia decided to take – like the tarnished silver boxes, an ornate crystal bottle full of a red liquid that was most certainly blood and a golden locket that Naenia gently lifted and observed under in the sparse sunlight that filtered through the grimy windows.
"I wonder what you are doing here …" Naenia said quietly.
There was a loud gasp from the doorway, where Kreacher stood and stared at them with bulging eyes. "That is Master Regulus's locket, that is. What is mistress doing with it?"
"Regulus? Interesting," Naenia said in a dangerously soft voice and looked at the locket again. "You are not supposed to be here, are you? No, I know exactly where you belong."
Kreacher was now trembling all over, looking between Naenia and the locket with wide eyes. "Master Regulus gave his life to retrieve that locket."
"Yes, I can imagine he did," Naenia said and put the pocket away, ignoring Kreacher's enraged cry. "I believe we are done here. Harry?"
"What?" Harry said with a start and then shook himself. "I – Yeah, I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."
Naenia nodded and then ushered them all out of the drawing room, still ignoring the upset Kreacher, who had to move out of the way because of the orders Harry had given him and could not interfere with what they were doing.
Lynea was quite glad to leave the house and breathe in the fresh air outside, before Phyllida took her and Harry back home via side-along apparition. Being around so much corrupted magic for an extended period of time was never good and it took several moments of quiet meditation for Lynea to shake off the last remnants of the foulness that was clinging to her.
They had a long discussion that evening over dinner about how to proceed. Harry agreed that it was best to call in the Ministry so they could send in specially trained wizards to deal with all the nasty objects. He was reluctant, though, to strip the whole house bare and then sell it.
"We could restore it, couldn't we? Clean everything thoroughly, replace the wallpapers and damaged furniture and make it into a proper home."
"I don't think the house is worth it," Lynea said. "If you want a home for your own, you can always buy a bright and friendly house or even have one built after your own wishes. You have enough money for that."
Harry shook his head. "It's not about that, it's just … I don't know. I feel like it would be sad to sell it. It means something to me, although I cannot put it into words."
"Are you sure it's more than the letter you found?" Lynea asked quietly. "What did that house have to offer you aside from that?"
Harry was quiet for a moment.
"My godfather is dead," he then began slowly. "None of the other Blacks have tried to claim the house –"
"Most likely because the male line has died out," Naenia said.
"– and it's not exactly a very warm and friendly house. I doubt it ever was." Harry sighed. "I guess you are right. The house really doesn't mean anything to me."
"So you agree to sell it?" Naenia asked.
Harry shrugged. "I don't need the money, though. Maybe I could donate it?"
"The money," Lynea said. "Donate the money, not the house."
Harry blinked. "That would probably be a better idea, won't it? Yeah, you're right." He nodded. "Okay, let's sell the house, then. And I will look into good causes I can donate the money to."
"And Kreacher?" Phyllida asked. "That elf might be mad, but I doubt you would want him to suffer through his remaining years by setting him free."
Harry scrunched up his face. "What else can I do? I don't think anyone would want him. Not if he doesn't change his attitude."
"He can't help it, though, can he?" Lynea said. "House-elves live even longer than most witches and wizards do. He has most likely followed the pureblood ideology of the House of Black for several centuries now. You can't expect him to change his mindset in the blink of an eye, like a switch being flipped."
"Maybe Draco has an idea," Harry said. "His family owns a few house-elves, right? I will ask him and the others for advice during my birthday party."
Lynea nodded. "I think that would be a good idea."
"Alright," Phyllida said. "Naenia and I will arrange for the house to be cleared and make sure it is fit to be sold and you will take care of the house-elf. Now, let's talk about something less gloomy. Is there anything you want me to cook for your birthday, Harry?"