Sirius gives Harry some time to settle in and get used to living in the flat in London before he feels okay about going back to his regular business. There's plenty to do, of course, but it can all wait a few days while his pup adjusts. He wants to be available if Harry needs anything or has any questions. Harry first takes two or three days first to think everything over in quiet moments, and Sirius catches him often staring out the balcony door or sitting curled up on the couch, a book open on his lap but none of the pages turned in long minutes. Harry writes letters to his friends, too; Sirius sees Hedwig return partway through the week and Harry reads the three letters she brings with her and pens replies and sends her off again. When Sirius asks who's writing to him, he learns that it is unsurprisingly Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, and very surprisingly Blaise Zabini.

"I hadn't realized you were such close friends with him," Sirius says carefully when Harry tells him that.

Harry shrugs. "I don't know about friends. But I… I upset him at the end of last year with something I said, and he tried to send me a letter at the Dursleys. I figured I should apologize and find out what he wanted."

"Alright, kid," Sirius says, ruffles Harry's hair, and leaves him to it.

As the week drags on, Harry does come to Sirius with some questions. First, about what's going to happen with the Dursleys. Sirius has an inkling of a plan, but how it goes will depend on whether or not Harry takes up the heirship of the House of Black. Harry nods solemnly when Sirius tells him that and says that he'll try to decide soon. Sirius does his best to reassure him that no matter what happens, Harry is not going back to the Dursleys; Harry seems only half-convinced by the conviction in Sirius's voice. His follow-up questions then are all about being Black Heir, what sort of things he'll need to know and do, how they go about declaring it. Sirius explains the process as best he can, but it's complicated and it'll all take time, and some of it can happen after Harry actually becomes Heir, if that's what he decides to do. This Harry seems more reassured by, that he'll have time to figure it out, and at the end of the week he comes to Sirius and hugs him and says that he'll be his Heir.

"Oh, pup," Sirius says, and gets up out of his armchair to hug him tight. It's evening on Sunday and Remus is there too, sitting on the couch with a newspaper. "Are you sure? You can take longer to decide."

Harry shrugs. "I don't think I'll change my mind if I wait longer," he says. "It'll make things easier, right? For you, dealing with the Dursleys and stuff, and for me with the Slytherins."

"Yes," Sirius admits. "It probably will. But a lot of people will be looking at you after we do this."

"That's okay," Harry says. "It can't be worse than what Neville has to deal with; he's told me a bit about being the Boy-Who-Lived. From what he's said, it sounds like it's pretty rubbish most of the time, not that he said it like that."

"It probably is," Remus says from the couch, humour in his voice. "He grew up with a lot of eyes on him."

"I don't know how he feels about it," Harry says, "but I know that I wouldn't like it very much. But being Black Heir… that won't be as bad, and then I can help you, Sirius."

"It'll be different, at least," Sirius says. "I'll help you as much as I can. And you can write to some of your friends—young Mr. Zabini will know a thing or two, although his family doesn't hold one of the hereditary seats, and Neville is Heir to the Longbottom seat."

"Okay," Harry says. "I'll definitely do that. When will we start?"

"Soon," Sirius promises. "Not right away—I'll need to give some thought to what order I want to teach you these things in. The truth is, you know the magical world very differently than I did when I was your age; there are more things you don't know, but you've also had a… broader upbringing in some ways. You'll just have to ask if you ever get confused."

"I will," Harry says. "Can I go write to Neville now?"

"Sure thing, kiddo," Sirius says. "Maybe tell him not to let his grandmother know just yet what we're planning. We'll have to make a strategy for announcing your new Heirship; it could be fun to have it be a surprise to all those stuffy windbags."

"Sure." Harry smiles and hugs Sirius again, then darts off to his room, presumably to do as he's said. Sirius sits back down in his armchair and looks over at Remus, who's watching him with a soft look.

"He's a good kid," Sirius says helplessly.

"He is," Remus agrees. "I have every faith in your ability to teach him what he needs to know, Sirius. Come on, let's make lesson plans."

They do just that over the course of the next week or so, running things by Harry as they go to make sure that he'll have at least some idea of what they're going to be talking about, and when he's totally confused Sirius makes notes and tries to figure out where the best place to start might be. ("Ritual? What sort of ritual?" Harry asks. "Bloody hell," Sirius mutters, and makes a note on the parchment that they'll need to have a comprehensive lesson on bloodline ritual magic before they actually get to that step.)

On the tenth of July, an even two weeks after Sirius collected Harry from the Dursleys, Sirius's planning is interrupted by an two owls. The first is from Dumbledore, who requests that Sirius come to Hogwarts for a meeting sometime in the next few days. Sirius has not told Dumbledore anything about his plans with Harry beyond the date of his retrieval, and knows that it can't be about that; he has to assume it's about Voldemort and sighs and writes back proposing that they meet the following day. Better get it over with.

The second owl is from Kingsley Shacklebolt, informing Sirius that he'd returned to Privet Drive to collect further evidence of the Dursleys' abuse of Harry. He promises to hold it in very secure and private trust until such a time as Sirius has decided what he's going to do about the situation. Sirius can read in the letter the unspoken promise that if Sirius decides not to do anything for any reason other than Harry insisting that it be so, Kingsley will be going after a pound of flesh personally. It's gratifying, really. He always knew Kingsley was a good sort.

It's also, however, an uncomfortable reminder that Sirius is going to need to sit Harry down and discuss that particular tangle as well. He'll respect Harry's wishes, but he honestly has no clue what they might be. Tonight, he resolves. No point in putting it off, especially since they might need to do something before Harry takes the Heirship.

And, indeed, after dinner that night Sirius quietly broaches the topic with Harry, sitting him down at the dining table and saying, "Harry, we'll need to talk about the Dursleys."

Harry swallows. Then he says, "Right."

"I know it's not a very welcome topic—"

"It's alright."

"Alright." Sirius clears his throat awkwardly. "What happens with them will depend on what you want."

"I never want to see them again," Harry says in a quiet voice. "I don't care what happens to them. I just don't ever want to have to go back."

"That I can do," Sirius says. "If it's alright, Harry, I'm going to sue openly for custody of you. There might be some issues—Remus, and all—but I have a meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow and I'm hoping that he'll agree to cede guardianship. With that, the fact that you're going to be my Heir, and the evidence of abuse, it should be easy to convince the Wizengamot."

"That sounds good," Harry says. "Do… do we have to tell them I was abused?"

"It would make the case stronger," Sirius says quietly. "But if you'd rather not…"

"I'd really rather not."

"Alright. We'll keep it in our back pockets for an emergency, then. But how's this: I was thinking that we might do it all in one fell swoop, as it were. The Wizengamot sessions fall on the new moons, as well as on the summer and winter solstices; there'll be one on July 29th." Sirius had skipped the last one, giving his proxy to Lady Urquart. He'd been more concerned about Harry, newly arrived at the London flat, than about spending several hours in a stuffy room listening to morons spew bigoted rhetoric or argue about inconsequential bullshit. "We could go to the session together, announce my suit for custody and our intention for you to take up the Heirship together. And you could get a look at the Wizengamot. Then, on your birthday, we can complete the ritual to make you my heir by magic as well as by law."

"That sounds good," Harry says, nodding. "Will I need to do anything at the Wizengamot?"

"They might want you to speak," Sirius says. "We'll prepare you for anything ahead of time, though; it's some weeks away. Also, uh, manners and bowing and whose hand to shake and such."

"Politics?"

"Politics," Sirius agrees wryly. "Easier than some of the other kinds, though."

Harry nods again. "Is that all, then?"

Sirius gives him a look, gauges his mood, then says, "Yes. But, Harry, listen. I'm not going to force you to talk about the Dursleys, the things that happened to you there or how you feel about it, but it might be good for you. If you ever want to tell me anything, you can."

Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but he says, "Okay, Sirius."

"Off you go, kid."

Harry's off like a shot, and Sirius looks down at the table and sighs. He's not sure he's much good at this parenting thing, but he's all the more glad now that he'd not tried to raise Harry ten years ago. He'd have been absolute rubbish at it back then.

The next day, Sirius makes sure Harry is happily ensconced in the apartment with everything he needs for a few hours (including materials for a sandwich if he gets hungry; Harry had sighed and promised he knew how to feed himself) and then walks to the Apparition point and pops off to Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had offered to open his Floo briefly, but Sirius had decided not to risk missing the window or having some other issue with the wards occur and lead to his bruising his nose on the barrier; he'd asked for the gargoyle password instead, and written that he'd walk up. It's not like it's a bad walk, anyway, and in mid-July the weather is quite nice. Summer robes in maroon linen are enough to keep him cool and comfortable, and he makes the meandering trek up to the castle from the village slowly, enjoying the birdsong and the distant splashing of the squid in the Black Lake. There's a faint trail of smoke coming from the chimney of Hagrid's hut in the distance, and Hogwarts as always is a grey bastion, looming over the Forbidden Forest, Hogsmeade village, and the lake alike. It really is quite majestic; it's a shame that he hasn't been back often since his graduation, except for a few times during the war.

The entrance to Dumbledore's office is guarded by its gargoyle, leaving Sirius slightly stymied. He'd asked for the password, but Dumbledore hadn't actually replied, which really only occurs to him now. "Er," he says to it. "Cockroach clusters?"

The gargoyle rolls its eyes at him, which seems it should be impossible given its lack of actual eyeballs, and proffers from somewhere a piece of parchment. Sirius takes it, and reads out loud, "Cinnamon hearts."

The gargoyle steps neatly aside in response, and Sirius rides the rotating staircase up to Dumbledore's office. The door swings open at his knock, and he's greeted by the sight of Dumbledore sitting at his desk browsing some sort of massive tome. The book has a magical presence that dwarfs that of several of the other artifacts in the room, and Sirius steps closer, intrigued.

"Ah, Sirius. Good morning," Dumbledore says, looking up and smiling. His eyes glitter behind his half-moon frames. "Please, take a seat. Tea?"

"No thank you, Headmaster," Sirius says, sweeping his robes flat beneath him as he sits on one of the plush armchairs Dumbledore keeps for guests. "Good morning to you, too."

"Indeed it has been!" Dumbledore says. He pushes the book aside without closing it and leans in slightly. "Thank you for requesting to meet so promptly. I would have been fine to wait."

Sirius shrugs. "I knew if it was Order business you'd have said as much, so probably not urgent, but I didn't see much point in putting it off. Plus, well, you know me and my curiosity."

"Like a dog with a bone when you get a question between your teeth," Dumbledore agrees, and they share a chuckle. "How is young Harry settling in at the Doghouse?"

"Well," Sirius says proudly. "He's a bright kid, very adaptable. Also very full of questions; maybe he should have ended up in Ravenclaw!"

"Good to hear that young minds are being nurtured even outside of school. What has he been asking about?"

Sirius shrugs. "Oh, everything. My job as Lord Black, the magical world at large, London, really anything that comes to mind.""

"I see," Dumbledore says, and then his expression goes serious. "Have you spoken with him about the current situation?"

"With Voldemort, you mean?" When Dumbledore nods, Sirius continues, "Yes. I know your feelings about involving the kids in the war, and I share them, but… I think they're going to get dragged in one way or another, and I'd like for him to be prepared. Especially what with his running around with Neville Longbottom half the time, and Theodore Nott Jr. the other half."

"Harry's situation is precarious," Dumbledore agrees. "You intend to tutor him in politics, then?"

"Yes. And self-defence, you know, duelling technique and so on. Maybe Occlumency if I can get him to meditate. And really anything else he seems interested in; as much as I can cram in over the summer that doesn't overlap too heavily with Hogwarts curriculum."

Dumbledore nods. "Well, as for Hogwarts curriculum, as you know, the Defence Against the Dark Arts class has a tendency to change every year."

"Yes," Sirius says. "Who've you hired this year? Hopefully someone competent—with the curse I know it's become difficult to find folk willing to take the job, and of course they don't stick around. But as many years as possible of good instruction are vital right now, I should think."

"Indeed," Dumbledore says. "I'm please to hear you say that, Sirius, as that is precisely why I've asked for you to meet with me."

"Wh—hold up." Sirius blinks at him. "You mean you want me?"

"Yes." Dumbledore taps the book sitting on his desk. "This is the Contract Book. I should very much like for you to add your signature to those who have come before in agreeing to teach here at Hogwarts. You are of course welcome to read the Professor's Contract first."

"I can't teach children," Sirius says. "I was rubbish with them even when I was one; I was never even a prefect!"

"I am aware," Dumbledore says. "And before you remind me of that as well, I also remember well the antics you and your friends got up to in school. However, there are few qualified people left in Britain who do not have other full-time commitments. No Auror would be willing to take a year's sabbatical to teach, I am sure, especially with the risk."

"What about Remus?" Sirius asks. "He's as good as I am with a wand and a much better teacher."

"I thought of him as well," Dumbledore says, and sighs. "For obvious reasons—"

"Not valid ones," Sirius insists.

"No, but the parents would not view it that way. Perhaps in an upcoming year, when I have made preparations to accommodate for his needs and to keep his condition a secret."

"Then, then what about, uhm—" Sirius wracks his brain. "Alastor Moody! He's retired!"

"Much as I respect Alastor," Dumbledore says, "I would only in dire straights put him in charge of children. He traumatizes Auror recruits easily, if I am to believe the stories, and they are young adults."

"Andromeda Tonks? She's a fine witch, very talented."

"And specialized in Potions."

"Er—"

"Sirius." Dumbledore looks at him squarely, his customary twinkle long gone, exchanged for a much more solemn look. "There are others I could ask, yes. But I am asking you. This early stage of preparation is perhaps the only time in the coming conflict that I believe you will be spared from other responsibilities, and your research into Voldemort's actions can be conducted here at Hogwarts, with the benefit of access to our library and to minds like my own and that of Professors Flitwick and McGongall."

"I still hold that I'm not the best person to be doing that," Sirius mutters. "Give it to Remus!"

"You are the one with access to the Black library," Dumbledore says. "We have had this conversation before."

"I know," Sirius sighs. "And what of the curse? I've an eleven-year-old to care for now; if anything happens to me the consequences for him could be dire."

"No more dire than a return to his aunt and uncle," Dumbledore says.

Sirius stares. Then he says, very calmly, "Over my dead body and my dead body only will Harry be returning to Number Four Privet Drive."

"Ah," Dumbledore says. He sits back in his chair, clearly taken aback by Sirius's vehemence. "I see. Well, rest assured: your commitment to your Lordship and the fact that you will not be able to keep the position long term due to other factors should protect you in large part from the curse."

Sirius sighs again and runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the high ceiling of Dumbledore's tower office while he mulls it over. Really he knows that he has no good reason to say no, but… teaching. Teaching children. He's qualified, of course; he was an Auror for years and knows most nasty things inside and out, both the ones to defend against and the ones used for defence. He has missed Hogwarts. And… this way, he could spend more time with Harry, keep an eye on him.

"Fine," he says. "I'll take the job. Give me the bloody contract, you… you old… agh, I can't think of a suitable insult. Give me a minute, it'll come."

Dumbledore chuckles and turns the book so that Sirius can sit forward and read it. By and large, the Professor's Contract is standard legal language, ensuring that he's aware of restrictions on his own conduct as a teacher at Hogwarts, his responsibilities, etc. The contract is magically binding, of course, and because of that fairly loose and lenient. Nothing that would conflict with his Lordship Oaths, nor his oath to the Wizengamot.

"Looks alright," Sirius finally says, and when Dumbledore hands him a freshly inked quill he signs and then touches the pages of the book gently, channeling his magic forward into his fingertips to leave behind an imprint of that signature, as well. Dumbledore nods approvingly and closes the book; with a soft pop of displaced air, it vanished back to wherever it lives when the Headmaster doesn't need it. "That's all?"

"That's all," Dumbledore says. "Thank you, Sirius. You are doing me a great favour in accepting this post."

"I know," Sirius says. Probably rude, but whatever. He fully intends on remembering this favour to call it in later; Dumbledore can judge if he wants. Sirius might have been a Gryffindor, but he was raised a Black… and now he has to go home and raise his godson just the same. Minus the screaming and thrown curses, that is.

Over dinner, Remus asks, "So, Sirius, how did your meeting with Dumbledore go?"

"Oh, fine," Sirius says casually. "Nothing dramatic, you know."

"What did he want?"

"Just to check on how the kid was settling in. Oh, and I accepted the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for next year."

There's a pause. Then Remus chokes on the sip of water he's taken, and Harry has to reach over to pat him on the back, wide-eyed. It takes a minute, but finally Remus stops coughing and croaks, "Has he gone senile?"

"Oh, rude," Sirius replies, sounding offended. "He had perfectly good reasons for asking me. I'll have you know that I am very qualified."

"Qualified, yes," Remus says. He sits up and Harry withdraws his hand, watching the conversation between the two adults. To him it mostly sounds like very good news: Sirius will be coming to Hogwarts! "I'm not quite sure you've the, ah, temperament though, my dear."

"I can't be worse than any of the previous professors," Sirius points out. "And one of his other options was Alastor bloody Moody. I'm definitely not worse than him."

The name means nothing to Harry, but he decides to pipe up anyway. "I think you'll be great, Sirius. I can't wait."

Sirius turns to grin at him. "Glad to hear it, pup. I'm sure it'll be a fun year."

"What're you going to teach us?"

"Oh, lots of stuff," Sirius says with a vague hand gesture. "That's what I've got the rest of the summer to figure out. What do you want to learn?"

"Something useful," Harry says emphatically. "Quirrell was fine, but he taught a lot of theory. And how to shoot sparks out of our wands."

"That's useful," Sirius says. "Sparks make a good distraction in a duel, or a way to signal an ally."

"There's a thought," says Remus. "You know plenty of powerful or complicated magic, Sirius, but really what's most useful to kids Harry's age is how to use the simpler spells that they already know or are sure to learn in the next few years, leading up to OWLs. The teaching of DADA is so uneven that there's no way they'll be able to get enough practice with more difficult or advanced things, or get much use out of esoteric theory. You should focus on making use of every-day magics to defend yourself, instead. And whatever's on the exams, of course, but even that can be made practical."

"Cheers, Remus," Sirius replies, sounding pleased. "I'll do that. It might sound boring," he says to Harry's disappointed look, "but it'll save your life one day."

"Alright," Harry sighs.

"Anyway," Sirius says, "I've got all summer to teach you more complicated stuff. Starting soon, I think: summer will be over before we know it."

"Sounds good," Harry says, mollified. "What're we going to start with?"

"Meditation," Sirius says, and laughs when Harry's face falls all over again.

Meditation proves not to be quite so boring as Harry had thought, though. At first, yes. Sirius teaches him the basics of how to clear his mind and focus on his breathing, and makes him do it every night before going to bed; he promises to explain exactly why he wants Harry to learn this in a week or so, once he's had some practice and is less likely to distract himself with possibilities. During the day, they focus on other things, mostly politics and procedure. The Wizengamot meeting will be on July 29th, and Harry has to be ready. Sirius teaches him plenty of dry things, like how to bow when meeting a Lord or Lady of an Ancient and Noble House rather than just a Seated Peer in one of the appointed seats, or an Heir, or whatever, and the most important who's-who of the Wizengamot. But they learn fun things, too: Sirius explains the theory behind the Heirship ritual that they'll complete on Harry's birthday, and a bit about family magic. The House of Black has always had a deep well of family magic, and Harry will become connected to it after the ritual; he's already connected to the Potter family magic by birth, but it's of a different kind by far, and Harry won't have to access it unless he decides to take up the role of Head the House of Potter properly; that, Sirius says, can definitely wait until Harry's seventeen. He's the last Potter, or the last who can be Head, and without an inherited Wizengamot seat, it's only important to maintain the House if Harry decides he cares about that sort of thing.

Harry thinks privately that he will probably want to be Head of his own House, because otherwise it would feel a bit like abandoning his family, even if they are mostly dead and entirely gone. But being Heir Black is more important right now, he understands that.

Harry does have one day off, and entirely to himself, not long before the Wizengamot session; Sirius has to run errands at Diagon Alley, Remus has to work, and they mutually decide that Harry can look after himself for a few hours. He's perfectly content to be left with a peanut butter sandwich and an afternoon in which to read uninterrupted, and decides to pull out the Animagi manual that Sirius had given him for Christmas. He'd not given it a proper look just yet, unwilling both to let his roommates get a look at it and knowing from others' mentions that it was an advanced magic. He's pretty sure that he won't be anywhere near capable, but he wants to learn the first steps and look forward to when he can achieve them.

To his surprise, the manual is insistent that the first step is to learn to meditate. It's part of "learning himself", which is step one to becoming an Animagus. Step two is "finding his form", which involves a ritual to bring out the animal aspect buried inside himself. Then step three, "learning the beast", then "transformation". Four steps doesn't seem like very much, but from what Harry can tell, none of those steps is easy. Even just part one requires that Harry know himself inside and out; he makes a note to buy a book on human anatomy, and also maybe to start getting more exercise. Maybe Padfoot would like to go on runs? Those are all supposed to be helpful things to do. And meditation so that he can know his mind. He also makes a note to ask Sirius about something called "Occlumency", because the manual suggests that "an accomplished Occlumens is significantly more likely to be able to achieve the first stage than any other wix."

Sirius laughs when Harry approaches him with his questions that evening; Remus is working late, so they're having dinner just the two of them. "Smart kid," Sirius says, when he's done chuckling. "That is why I'm having you meditate, yes. It'll help you become an Animagus, but it's also the first step to Occlumency, which is the magical art of organizing and defending your thoughts. I'm not sure you'll be able to learn it right away, because it takes a lot of discipline and I was definitely rubbish at it when I was twelve, but I want you to start. Voldemort is a Legilimens—he can attack your mind to read your thoughts or dig through your memories—and so are both Snape and Dumbledore. Not that I don't trust Dumbledore, but it never hurts to be able to keep your own counsel when you want to; I've certainly never let him in my head, for all I have faith he'd never hurt me."

Harry nods. He likes the idea of being able to protect his thoughts and secrets a lot, and says, "I'll work hard on it."

"I figured you'd like that," Sirius says, seeming pleased with himself. He shovels a bit of salad into his mouth, then says through it, "I'll start teaching you the basics soon."

Harry rolls his eyes at Sirius's manners. He's sure that Sirius is capable of being lordly and posh and stern; he's seen hints of it when they're in public. At home, though, all the Lordship is shucked off like a cloak and all that's left is Sirius… or Padfoot, depending on the situation. Like right now, when his table manners really more resemble a dog than a grown man.

Once Sirius has swallowed, he continues, "I'm planning to continue to tutor you during the school year, since I'll be there and all. And I was wondering if you might like to ask your friend Neville to join us. He'll need all the help he can get, what with Voldemort surely after him. I'll owl his grandmother about it, but I reckoned you might like to extend the invitation to him yourself."

"That'd be brilliant," Harry says. It really would; he'd been thinking that after their adventure near the end of last year that he might like to spend a bit more time with Neville. It'll get him away from the certain subtle madness of the Slytherin common room, too. "I'll owl him."

Sirius agrees, and they get back to their dinners. They spend the rest of the evening relaxing, Sirius with a newspaper he hadn't had time to read this morning and Harry playing solitaire with a charmed deck on which the face cards shout advice and grumble about his poor shuffling skills, and welcome Remus home when he arrives. Just before bedtime, a late owl arrives for Sirius; he reads it then explains to Harry that Kingsley would like to come and talk to him the day after tomorrow, the day before the Wizengamot session, about what they were planning to bring forward with regard to the Dursleys. Harry, though feeling slightly leery, agrees. He's already committed to doing what he can to help Sirius's suit for custody, and that means talking about his time at Privet Drive, maybe. He knows. He's just… not looking forward to it.

He is looking forward to other things about the session. He feels like he's had so much information crammed into his head about the Wizengamot in the last few days that he's eager to see what it's really like. All the wixen in their fancy robes, putting on heirs and maneuvering for power. It's politics, of course, and Harry's still not especially glad to have any more of those around, but it's adult politics for reasons that make sense, namely that someone has to run things or nothing would get done. Sirius says nothing gets done anyway, but Harry doesn't really believe that. Or if it is true, he hopes that maybe one day his being involved and wanting to see things get done will help to make it happen.

He'd written to Blaise and Neville as Sirius had suggested, and gotten two very different responses. Neville's had mostly been excited that another of his friends would be dealing with the confusion that came from trying to learn how to navigate magical government when you were just a kid yourself, and encouraging Harry to look for him at the session; he'd promised to ask his grandmother if he could come along. He'd mentioned that his own occasional visits to the Wizengamot had always included people being very interested in what he thought of issues, his being the Heir and all. It had been a reassurance in some ways; Harry was glad that he'd have a friend there. It was also a reminder that being a kid wouldn't save him from being maneuvered by adults in the Wizengamot or anywhere else in his life, but having political power might.

Blaise, on the other hand, had mostly made Harry glad that he'd included an explicit request that he not tell anyone about Harry taking up the Black Heirship until after the session. He's not sure Blaise will listen, but at least he probably won't tell anyone other than his mum and maybe Theo. Blaise had been full of questions: What are you going to do with the Heirship? Are you planning to try to influence the Lord Black's politics or just go along with his agenda? Are you going to put pressure on any of the other Slytherins? And some more subtle things; he'd made mention of alliances and there'd been an implied question as to whether or not Harry was seeking an alliance with him and by extension the Italian Domus Zabini. Harry doesn't really know how to answer any of those questions, but he'd written back promptly that he'd think about it. And he will—he's glad at least that Blaise has given him an idea of what sort of things his other Slytherin peers are going to be wondering, even if he doesn't really have any answers. Sirius had hmm'd at the letter when Harry had showed him, and then told Harry that he should probably come up with answers for himself, though of course he'd help as much as he could.

Harry's sure that the Wizengamot session will be interesting, Dursley-related stress aside. He can't wait to see Sirius in action in front of the other wix in charge of the magical world, and he's definitely interested to see what their response is going to be. He's hoping for the best, but privately, as he looks toward first Kingsley's visit and then the session itself, he steels himself for the worst.