August arrives and runs past at incredible speed, filled with lessons and adventures, in both magical and muggle worlds. Harry sees his friends a few more times—Neville, mostly, who sometimes joins Harry and Sirius for their lessons on politics, for a new perspective, and on Occlumency, of which Neville's grandmother approves but isn't herself a master and so cannot teach. Sirius tells Neville quietly after one of their lessons that he's going to be their DADA instructor in the coming year and plans to give Harry some continuing extracurricular instruction, and that he'll ask Dumbledore to allow him to do the same for Neville, which Neville seems equal parts nervous and pleased about.
Harry has lessons with Sirius four days a week, and sometimes the other days are unintentionally educational as well; they go see muggle movies and magical plays, visit gardens with fairy populations and take a trip to the British Museum with Hermione and her family. Harry learns to meditate and clear his mind, and which Sirius says is the basics of a lot of things: Occlumency, the Animagi transformation, and wandless magic for those powerful enough—and he thinks Harry is. He tells Neville the same the next time he joins them for a lesson, which makes Neville blush, surprised; the two of them make a quiet pact in Harry's room when relaxing later that same afternoon that by the end of this school year, both of them will have mastered at least one wandless spell, and will help each other to practice between classes at Hogwarts.
Harry and Neville also study politics together, mostly under Sirius tutelage, though sometimes Mrs. Longbottom has a firm suggestion of some reading she thinks Harry ought to do. The Blacks are a Dark House, and the Longbottoms Light, so they by all rights should be on the opposite sides of things, but in debates with Sirius about the various issues present on the magical world's political stage, they find themselves agreeing often, which Sirius seems happy about; they rapidly learn strategies for ganging up on him while he plays devil's advocate, repeating arguments he's heard pureblood conservatives make in the Wizengamot, or things his own parents had tried to drill into him. But he also sometimes takes the part of an extreme liberal, insisting for example that the Statute of Secrecy should be disbanded entirely so that wixen can live in harmony with muggles, or that all magic should be legal, because isn't it just about intention? And so Harry and Neville have to learn to argue against that too without accidentally falling back on blood supremacist rhetoric or the arguments of the often magically conservative Light.
It's immensely interesting and helpful, and Harry reads a lot of history and some magical theory and old newspaper articles, mostly on Remus's recommendations, to try to educate his own arguments. Neville does the same, and Sirius encourages them to discuss what they learn, share resources, and consult their other contacts—Neville has an infrequent correspondence with Ernie Macmillan, who's the grandson of the current Lady Macmillan, and with Hannah Abbot, whose uncle is Lord Abbot. Neither of them are Heirs, or even eligible, but they're close enough to the main branch of each of their families that they're getting lessons of their own, if less intense than Harry's and Neville's, and have their own opinions, learned from different families with different positions in the magical world.
It's all good in theory. Harry's more than a little concerned about his ability to put it all into practice in September, when he's once more thrown into the deep political mire that is Slytherin. The lessons help a bit with the minute-to-minute sort of things, because Neville's had the etiquette of Heirship drilled into him since he could walk and it's all brand new for Harry, but knowing how to address Cassius Warrington or whether or not he should shake Gemma Farley's hand when he sees her again isn't going to save him if Malfoy calls him any more stupid names or tries insulting his mum again and Harry loses his temper.
So, to help put his mind to rest, Sirius and Harry start going over possibilities in detail. On a day that Neville is absent, Sirius and Harry sit down together and discuss everyone who Harry's made the acquaintance of in Slytherin and a few he hasn't, who their Families are vassal to, and for those who are from full Houses, where their votes tend to fall. They discuss Dark, Light, and Neutral Inclination, families that still care and those that don't. They talk about the teachers, too: apparently Professor McGonagall had once been married to an Urquart, and Dumbledore, as Chief Warlock, is a potent political figure; Flitwick has goblin blood, which is a complicated but powerful alliance as well.
"What about Snape?" Harry asks, unsure if he really wants to know, but also hoping that the answer will be 'he's a nobody' so that he can continue blithely on their campaign of mutual silent disdain. He doesn't recognize the name from any of the lists Sirius had showed him of Families and Houses and alliances.
Sirius sighs. "He's complicated."
"I knew that," Harry says.
"I suppose you would, dealing with him all the time—not looking forward to that part of being on staff at Hogwarts, I'll be honest. In any case: not that many people know this, because he keeps it locked down pretty well, but Severus Snape is in fact the unacknowledged Heir of the House of Prince."
Harry stares. "He's what?"
Sirius nods. "I know. He doesn't seem the type, hm? But he is. His mother, Eileen, was the last scion of the family, and when her father passed away Snape became Heir apparent—but her marriage was never recognized by the House and so neither was he as Heir. The issue is, the rest of them are all dead."
"So why hasn't the House collapsed, and the seat passed on?" Harry asks. He knows the Malfoys are panting after one of the inherited Ancient and Noble House seats, and Sirius has told him that they actually do have Ancient and Noble status, having enough vassal families with enough history to qualify them… but no seat has become available. Some are close: the House of Prewett is teetering on the edge of losing status and therefore also their seat, though theirs could only pass to another Light House, and so is the House of Prince; the House of Nott, on the other hand, has plenty of support but no Heir, as the House is matriarchal and Theo is the last of the line.
Sirius shrugs. "A number of reasons, varying vassal Family to vassal Family. A number don't want to see new blood get into the Wizengamot, even a House as theoretically respected as the Malfoys—they're French, originally, and young enough a lineage to irritate some true traditionalists. Others admire Snape himself; he's a talented wizard by all rights, the youngest Potions Master maybe ever, and he distinguished himself in the last war. He's a polarizing figure, because he was a Death Eater and according to Dumbledore turned spy, but that was enough to win respect from types as shady as he is. And some Families have simply been loyal to a given House for so long that they refuse to change allegiance, which has been to my benefit, but by all accounts has been pissing Snape off since he came of age."
"He doesn't want to be Lord Prince?"
"Not at all," Sirius says emphatically. "I asked Dumbledore to prod him about it after I became Lord Black, just to find out where he stood, and from what Dumbledore said to me about it after, he's really just hoping all the Families will give up, trade their vassalage to another House, and leave him alone. But I reckon most have a few more years of stubbornness in them, and some, like the Flitwicks, have actually given vassalage to the House of Prince in recent years, hoping to see a halfblood in one of the Dark seats."
"A—" Harry starts, and then decides not to open that can of worms; he can see Sirius's amusement at his false start. "Right. Why doesn't he just revoke the vassalage?"
"He's not acknowledged, remember," Sirius says. "That's a right only the Lord of the House has, and Snape won't accept the role, even for long enough to dismantle the House. I suspect his worry is about the family magic."
Harry nods. They'd had long talks about family magic, too, and Sirius had let him practice a few times with calling on it, though only small amounts, a trickle of energy rather than the raw living torrent of its entirety. Controlling it was extremely difficult, even with the help of his wand, and Harry had learned well the lesson Sirius had been trying to teach about not trying to use it frivolously. Even just being bound to it came with a weight that Harry is still trying to get used to.
"So what should I do about him?" he asks.
"I don't really know," Sirius admits. "I'll speak to him at Hogwarts; I'm Lord of the House, so really it's more my issue than yours, but if he treats you badly I'll have more recourse now that you're my Heir. Just… keep me up to date on him, too."
Another nod. They'd discussed possibilities for continuing Harry's political education at Hogwarts, and decided that part of it should be that they would try to find at least an hour a week to discuss the political moves of Harry's classmates, to help Harry work through the muddle and become more adept, while also keeping Sirius informed for his own political purposes. Harry's looking forward to September, because he'll get to have almost all of the things he loves best in one place: Sirius and Hogwarts. If only Remus could come too, but Sirius says that Remus's lycanthropy means he has to tread carefully about how much time he spends in the school. He promises to try to visit, though.
Sirius also says that defence lessons will continue into the school year, and he suggests that Harry try out for the Quidditch team—he says that Harry's a true talent with his Snitch, and though Harry thinks it's probably mostly flattery, he also knows that Sirius doesn't lie outright about anything. They already go for a run together a few days a week, Harry and Padfoot, as a part of Harry's quest to "learn himself" so that he can become an animagus, and though it leaves Harry tired, he also gets stronger and stops getting out of breath as quickly, which Sirius says is very good for duelling. In the afternoons, Sirius teaches Harry a few spells that he can use to protect himself, and promises that there will be more, and plenty of time to practice, once they're both in the castle and needn't worry about Harry's use of magic outside of school being flagged by the Ministry. Altogether, as August draws near to a close, Harry feels significantly more prepared to defend himself physically or with his magic, and while he still isn't sure his political training will hold up, he'll at least know how exactly he's messed up if he does put his foot in his mouth.
The August Wizengamot session is on August 27th, and Sirius suggests that Harry stay home with Remus, then come meet him in Diagon Alley after the session so that they can do Harry's shopping for school. Harry had gotten his Hogwarts letter a few weeks prior, including his list of books and supplies (Sirius's assigned text, Practical Defence for the Modern Age, was near the top of the list) shortly after the beginning of August, but they'd chosen to spend the time on other things.
"We've left it a bit late," Sirius sighs, a few days prior. "It's sure to be a madhouse. But maybe Neville will also have put it off—why don't you write your friends and ask who still needs to go, Harry?"
Harry does so, but it turns out that everyone has already gone. When he tells Sirius this, Sirius pats his shoulder and says it's just as well—just the three of them will be easier to manage in and out of shops, whereas with a larger group they'd be liable to lose people. They also have the opportunity to run some more official errands which might have been awkward, depending on their company. On the day, all three of them sleep in and have a late breakfast together, and then Sirius dresses in the regal fashion that he adopts in his role as Lord Black and sweeps out of the flat, a wave directed over his shoulder. Harry and Remus spend most of the day relaxing, Remus sprawling across the couch with a novel and Harry curled into Sirius's ugly armchair finishing up Mrs. Longbottom's most recent assigned reading, a collection of somewhat dry essays on magical ethical philosophy by some fellow named Sweetwater. At four thirty, they both get ready to go out, Harry putting on a nicer robe over his shirt and trousers, and grabbing his satchel, and Remus helps him to run a comb through his hair, ineffectual though it may be. They walk down the block and Apparate to Diagon Alley, then get an ice cream while they wait for Sirius to arrive.
When he does, striding out of the crowd with enough presence to make people scurry out of his way, he gives them both a narrow look and says, "I cannot believe you two."
"What?" Harry says, innocently as possible, and bites off a chunk of waffle cone.
"Something you wanted, Sirius?" Remus says, in the same tone.
Sirius makes a grumpy noise at both of them and points. "I'll have my payback. But first: Gringotts! The goblins wait for no wix."
Harry finishes the last few bites of his cone, then laughs when Remus's attempt to slurp down the last of his milkshake quickly causes him to clutch his head and complain about brain-freeze. Sirius leads the way away from Fortescue's and cuts a path through the crowd of people swarming in and out of what seems like every shop in Diagon Alley. It is, as Sirius predicted, extremely busy this afternoon, including a number of young wixen with their families doing their Hogwarts shopping for the very first time. However, Sirius's commanding stride paired with the striking figure he cuts in his formal robes does as good a job of encouraging people to get out of his way when he has Remus and Harry with him as it did when he was on his own. It only takes them a few minutes to get down the Alley to the crooked building that is Gringotts and inside of its imposing doors, and then they find themselves at the end of a queue to see a teller. Fortunately, there are only three or four people in front of them, so within ten minutes Sirius is handing his key up to the goblin behind the tall desk.
As he does, something occurs to Harry, and he says, "Oh! Sirius, wait."
Sirius looks down at Harry, and the goblin pauses as well.
"Er," says Harry. "It's just—do you suppose we could visit the Potter vault today? I've got a manifest somewhere with my school things, but I didn't really… know how to look at it properly, and I forgot to ask you before."
Sirius looks a little surprised, then shakes his head, laughing. "I honestly forgot as well." He looks up at the goblin. "I doubt Harry has had a key minted, other than for his trust vault. Can we commission that done today, sir goblin?"
The goblin nods and leans over his desk to say, "Give me your hand, Heir Potter."
Harry does, and the goblin pricks his hand with a thin dagger that he pulls from apparently nowhere and lets a drop of blood fall onto a sheet of parchment. He then releases Harry's hand back to him and says, "Gringotts will mail you your keys—for vaults 831 and 540—when they are minted, in a day or two. For today, I shall accompany you down to the vaults and unlock them. Would you like to visit both?"
"Erm," says Harry. He thinks back to the manifest, as best he can remember it. There's both money and items in both vaults, but he can't entirely recall what was where. "Yes, please."
The goblin nods, then turns to Sirius. "And you would still like to make a withdrawal, Lord Black?"
Sirius confirms that, and then the three of them are invited to follow the goblin, who did not offer his name, down into the vaults. They take another of those exhilarating rides on a mine cart, arriving first at vault 831. The goblin uses another drop of Harry's blood, drawn from the still-open cut on his hand, and a drag of his own claw to open the door, then stands back to allow them entry.
Inside is a jumble of items, not sorted or organized. In the middle of the vault is a small pile of coins, gleaming silver and gold, and stacked against the walls are… mostly random things. Harry spots a magical painting of Hogwarts in the evening placed against one wall, tilted on its side; there's a green glass lamp in another corner, and an armchair, and an open box that contains what looks, from a distance, to be a set of silver. He steps in, looking around, and behind him hears Sirius and Remus both make noises of shock as they follow him in. He turns to look and finds that both of them have gone slightly pale, staring around at the items in the vault.
"Right," says Remus, after a moment. Sirius is still mute. "We knew—I mean, we arranged… but I hadn't been quite prepared. I forgot… Harry, these are… these are the contents of the cottage in Godric's Hollow that your parents bought and lived in just before you were born and during the first year of your life."
"Oh," says Harry, and looks around at the stuff with new perspective. These are the furnishings his parents, newly-married, about to have a baby, had chosen to fill their house with. It's not everything that you'd need to furnish a home, but it's a lot. All of a sudden, he can imagine the painting of Hogwarts, the Whomping Willow's arms waving, hanging above a mantelpiece; he can imagine his mother—the version he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised, healthy and vibrant—sitting in that armchair. "… Oh."
Sirius clears his throat. "We… the cottage was sold to the Ministry and has been set up as a sort of museum, a monument to the last war. Some of the original furnishings are still there, and others were destroyed, but anything the Ministry didn't want or that was sentimental to your parents we made sure was stored here. We were pretty hands off about it though. I haven't seen these things, except in the few photos I have, in years."
Harry blinks and files away photos to ask about later, but nods. "Okay," he says. "Is there… can I look around for a minute?"
"Of course," Sirius says, and comes forward to pat Harry's shoulder. "I… think I'll wait outside."
He does as promised. Remus stays, and lingers near the armchair, breathing deeply in a way that makes Harry wonder if, to his sensitive werewolf's nose, the upholstery still smells a little like Harry's parents. Harry himself skirts around the pile of coins and goes looking through the stuff, prodding the piles of random items. Some things are completely absent—no clothing, for example. But there's kitchenware and furniture, a few more paintings stacked behind the one of Hogwarts and some framed photographs. Harry picks up one of those, a magical photo of his parents in motion, dancing together in a cobblestone square somewhere. It's a small photo, and he sets with aside to take away with him and pack into his trunk. In another pile, he finds a wooden box, which, when opened, proves to contain a jumble of jewelry. Clearly a mix of masculine and feminine when he digs through it, it looks like whoever had cleaned up his parents' house had just grabbed any valuables they saw and threw them together in here.
At the clink of metal, Remus comes over and looks over Harry's shoulder, then says, "Ah."
Harry shoots him a questioning look.
"Anything heirloom would have magically reverted to the Potter vault," Remus explains. "This would be jewelry the two of them bought for themselves or each other during their lifetimes, bar their wedding rings, which are automatically categorized as 'heirloom' even though they were new."
"Oh," says Harry, and picks up a delicate emerald stud earring. "I…"
"You can come back another day to look more carefully," Remus says gently.
"… Okay. One minute," Harry says, and gives one last cursory look, then pulls out a silver chain with a pendant on it shaped like a lily. The flower's delicate petals are inlaid with chips of some orange stone, and it gleams in the low light of the vault's torches.
"James wore that," Remus murmurs. "People would sometimes comment on it—it's fairly feminine—but he loved it. Not only because Lily bought it for him."
Harry nods, feeling a little choked up. He closes his fist tightly over the pendant and holds it close, then says, "Should I bring it to him? Do you think—"
"I think he'd want you to have it, Harry," Remus says. He sounds like he's trying for gently, but there's a roughness to his voice, too, that betrays the emotion he must be feeling.
"Okay." Harry takes a deep breath, then he says, "Just one more minute?"
Remus hums agreeably, tells Harry that he'll be outside checking on Sirius, and steps away. Harry finishes digging through the pile, and near the bottom finds a cardboard box. Inside there are an assortment of cosmetics and a few bottles of cologne and perfume, and he very carefully unscrews each until he finds a scent he likes. He thinks it might be a woman's perfume, actually, a slightly spicy floral scent, but the smell makes nostalgia rise within him so strongly that he decides that it has to be this one. He takes the bottle and the necklace, collects the photo, and returns to the door.
Sirius and Remus are standing close, their heads bent together and their hands wrapped around one another, not talking. The goblin is politely turned away, but looks over when Harry emerges and says, "Done?"
"Yeah," Harry says. His voice is a little rough, and he clears his throat. "I'll take these three things. Please update the manifest?"
The goblin nods. "If you still have the papers you were given on your first visit, they will be magically updated."
"Okay," Harry says.
"What did you find, Harry?" Sirius asks, coming over. He sounds relaxed, maybe a little too relaxed; there's a tension around his eyes that makes Harry think that he's still pretty upset.
"These," Harry says, and shows him and Remus the items. They both smile softly at the photo, and Sirius touches the necklace reverently; when Harry gingerly unscrews the perfume again for them to smell, Sirius just nods and tells Harry softly that it was Lily's favourite scent, but Remus has to close his eyes for a long moment, the expression on his face a little like he's just been punched in the gut. Harry puts the items away in his bag, and then, as they walk over to the cart, he drifts over to Remus, and says quietly, "Sorry."
"No, no," Remus says. "I… well. Scent is the wolf's strongest sense, as you know. Very many of my memories of Lily are tied to that smell."
"Mine too, I think," Harry says, and tries fumblingly to explain the nostalgia he felt when he first opened the bottle. Remus lays a hand on his shoulder briefly before they climb into the cart, and once they're out of the cart again and at the next vault, he pulls him into a brief hug.
The next vault is vault 540, the Potter vault proper. They get into this vault the same way they had into the last one, and this one proves to be significantly more massive, as well as thankfully more organized. There's an enormous pile of money stacked neatly against one wall, and other parts of the vault are occupied with reams of portraits and paintings and tapestries, several towering shelves of old and valuable books, a rack of antique weapons, and multiple tidy boxes of jewelry. Sirius and Remus stride into this vault with much more confidence, and Sirius guides Harry first to the jewelry to point out the wedding and engagement rings that had belonged to his parents. His mum's engagement ring had been a luminous emerald flanked by two thin chips of diamond set into the band, and his dad's a masculine band with a rectangle-cut ruby set into the gold. Both had had gold wedding rings, simple bands engraved on the inside with their paired initials and the date of the wedding.
"Lily almost never wore her engagement ring," Sirius explains. "She was always paranoid about losing it even though it fit her fine and wouldn't have fallen off, no matter how much she worked with her hands—but it was an heirloom piece, and she cared more about that than what people thought of her for not wearing it. The wedding rings and James's engagement band were new, custom work."
"They're beautiful," Harry says.
"D'you want to take them? We can grab a chain, too, so you can wear them around your neck."
Harry shakes his head. "No. But maybe… if there are some Potter House cufflinks or something?"
"Sure, pup."
They do find several sets of cufflinks, a ring, and a brooch with ornate Ps, or with the rearing (what Sirius calls rampant) horse of the Potter crest. Sirius promises Harry that they'll find a few pieces with Black heraldry for him as well, when they're in the Black vault, so that he'll have his choice, but he comes away quite happy.
They also find a case containing many wands of Potters past. Sirius spends a while looking at Harry with a measuring look, then says, "Why don't you go ahead and give a few of those a wave, Harry? Normally I'd say you need at least one more year of magic with your magic before it's under control enough for you to make much use out of a second wand, but you've been doing very well with the family magic."
"Er," Harry says.
"It's a good idea," Remus adds, from where he's examining a sleeping portrait of a grey-haired man, probably Harry's many-times great grandfather or something. "If someone uses a Disarming Charm on you, it only takes whatever's in your hand. If you have a second wand in a wrist or ankle holster, it'll stay on you, and you'll still have a chance in a fight."
Harry nods. "Okay."
Then he spends a while waving various wands from the case. None of them have explosive reactions, but none feel as good as his holly wand does. Eventually, he finds one, rowan and dragon heartstring according to its tag, that seems tolerable—nothing amazing, but he thinks with some practice he could make it work, which Sirius says is about as much as they could expect while he's still bonded with another, better suited wand.
There's not much else in the vault that he wants, though Harry makes a mental note to show Sirius the manifest later so that they can go through the contents more thoroughly together. Harry takes a few coins from the pile so that he'll have some spending money for the train, ignoring Sirius's attempted insistence that he'll give Harry some change, and then finally they head on to the Black vault. Sirius fills a pouch with coins, and Harry stares around in awe at the contents of the vault. Even larger than the Potter vault, and filled with shelves and shelves of items, not to mention the small mountain of money. Heirlooms of every kind, furniture, clothing, art of every sort… it's a truly impressive collection, the accumulation of hundreds of years of the House of Black's wealth. Sirius laughs when he sees the look on Harry's face and promises him they'll come back another day, and he'll tell Harry a few stories about some of the more gaudy monstrosities in here.
Their goblin guide takes them back to the surface and makes both Harry and Sirius sign paperwork, and then they're released back out into the early evening sunshine and the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. They make their way back along the Alley, stopping into the necessary shops to pick up Harry's school supplies and books, some owl treats for Hedwig, a few extra potions ingredients to replenish Sirius's stores, a new novel for Remus. They pop into Quality Quidditch Supplies for an extra tin of broom wax, and then into Madame Malkin's to get Harry fitted for some new shirts and trousers as well as new robes; he's had a slight growth spurt over the summer and it's about time for new clothes. They detour to one of Diagon Alley's side streets once their shopping is done and have a nice supper at an Italian restaurant, and when they've eaten their fill, they stroll back along the Alley to the apparition point, the crowds subsided with the oncoming night. It's a lovely evening, the sky clear and the air warm with the last lingering traces of the facing summer, and Harry happily bumps his shoulder against Sirius's arm as their walk, then beams up at him when Sirius ruffles his hair.
He's had a wonderful summer, and now, with his books and his supplies in hand, he's ready to go back to Hogwarts.
Then finally it's September 1st, and Harry is being woken by an exuberant Padfoot who turns into a somewhat more somber Sirius just before breakfast. They eat and get dressed and pack the last of Harry's things into his trunk, a book and the Snitch and his wallet into his satchel, and then Remus kisses Harry's forehead and goes to work. A few minutes later, Sirius has got his own cloak on and they're headed for the apparition point, and Sirius pops them over to King's Cross Station. Harry still isn't quite used to the feeling, but Sirius has assured him that it's better when he's doing it for himself.
King's Cross is as busy as Harry remembers it from last year, muggles walking to and fro pushing trunks on trolleys and guiding their children by the hand. Harry has his own hands on his trolley's handles, but Sirius is close by his side, and they run together through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 to gain access to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The Hogwarts Express is also as magnificent as he remembers—even having seen it a few times doesn't quite diminish the wonder of the bright red steam engine, surrounded by a sward of wixen in brightly coloured robes, parents kissing children and children greeting their friends. Some are hanging out of windows to say goodbye to siblings or guardians; others Harry can see have already settled onto the train and have newspapers or books or cards out. Sirius escorts him partway down the platform to a train door without too many people surrounding it and helps him unload his trunk and Hedwig's cage, casting a featherlight charm on both, and then bends down to hug Harry tightly.
"I'll see you at the castle," he says. "I'll be Flooing there—"
"I know, I know," Harry says, laughing. "You've only told me the plan ten times, Sirius. I'll be just fine. It's only the train."
"I know," Sirius says, and kisses Harry's forehead, brushing his hair back. "Be good. Say hello to your friends for me."
"I will." Harry hugs Sirius one last time, squeezing him tight around the middle, and whispers into his chest, "Love you, Sirius."
"Love you too, pup," Sirius says, hugging back, and then lets go and pats Harry's shoulder. "Off you trot."
Harry smiles and nods and tries to pretend he's not feeling foolishly a bit sad. He knows he'll see Sirius in just a few hours, but… it'll be different. Sirius will be his teacher, not his… his guardian. And next year, he won't have Sirius at all—he'd better save feeling sad for then. So he takes his trunk and Hedwig's cage, Hedwig already sent off to fly to Hogwarts herself, and clambers aboard the train to try to find a compartment or his friends.
Before he gets very far, however, he comes across Gemma Farley loitering in the hall, and she stands up straighter when she sees him.
"Hello, Harry—or, Heir Black now I suppose," she says, and winks.
"Hello, Gemma," Harry replies. "Harry's still fine."
"Good," she says. "I'm glad I caught you. Would you like to come share a compartment with me and some of the other Slytherins?"
The older Slytherins, he think she means. He doesn't know exactly who her friends are, though she shared the Prefect role with Higgs last year. He wants to say no and go sit with his own friends, who he actually likes and will be able to relax and have fun with, but he knows from his talks with Sirius that this is a good opportunity to feel her and her group out, and that they probably want the same with him. Now that he's Heir Black, everyone's going to be much more curious about him than they were last year. So he sighs and says, "Sure."
Gemma smiles. "I know you probably don't want to, but I promise everyone will be—well, probably not nice. But polite."
"It's alright," Harry says, trying to sound gracious. "I'd love to be introduced to your friends."
"Great." She waves him after her down the hall to the far end of the train car, where three other Slytherins are waiting. As Harry had expected, one of them is Higgs, one is a tall, broad boy who Harry thinks he recognizes as Cassius Warrington, the last is an unfamiliar girl with an aquiline nose and striking grey eyes against brown skin, who's wearing an embroidered burgundy scarf over her hair. They all stand and bow as Harry enters, which he hates, but he bows back and gets out of the way so that Gemma can enter the compartment and make introductions. He'd correctly identified the tall boy as Warrington, it turns out, and the girl is Ayesha Hussain, in Gemma's year.
Once they've all taken their seats, Harry sitting on one bench next to Warrington with Higgs, Gemma, and Hussain opposite them, Gemma leans forward a little in her seat and says, "Did you have a good summer, Harry?"
"It was busy," Harry says, drawing a laugh from Gemma and from Warrington, "but good, yeah. How about yourself, Gemma?"
"Also good," she says, smiling. "Not as eventful as yours, clearly, but I got to go with Ayesha and her family to visit the Middle East, which was exciting—I'd never been, and it's very beautiful."
Harry looks curiously at Hussain, and she says, "My family has had several generations in England, but we are originally from Damascus."
"What's the magical community like there?" Harry asks.
"Very different from the English one," she says. "Very traditional, though obviously the traditions are different. Much more focus on the magic in craft and in language—spells are longer, more poetic and complex in Arabic or Hebrew."
Harry nods. "I'm still learning about the magical world," he admits, a little sheepish. "I barely know what I need to about Britain, never mind the rest of the world. But if you have some stories to share, I'd love to hear them."
Both of the girls seem enthused, and he's able to sit back for a little while and listen to them talk about their trip. They're clearly close and know each other well, and they fill in the details of each others' tellings. Harry doesn't know much about the Middle East, though they talk a little about how they'd had to be careful; there was always some sort of conflict going on, and the political situation wasn't very good, from what he can gather. But they describe desert vistas and riding camels, and Harry thinks that despite the tensions he might like to visit there some day.
Eventually they wind down, and Higgs interjects at the end of Hussain's last story to say, "But what about you, Harry? I've heard these two talking about their trip for weeks; I'm more curious as to what you've been up to."
Warrington snorts. "Not subtle, are you, Terence?"
"Don't pretend you're not curious either," Higgs says with a shrug, then directs a wry look to Harry. "No one ever said Slytherins can't be straightforward, when it works."
"No," Harry agrees. "I prefer it, honestly."
"Good," Higgs says, satisfied. "Now, share with the class, little Heir."
While Gemma elbows Higgs, Harry rolls his eyes and says, "Well, obviously I became Heir Black. Sirius and I talked about it a bit last year but hadn't planned to do it so soon, but… I don't know. I guess I felt like there was no point in wasting time."
"Straightforward, as you said," Higgs says.
"Yeah, I guess so," Harry says. "I'm still… learning. There's a lot to know about being Heir to an Ancient and Noble House, and though Sirius has taught me a lot, I'm really not sure I've got it together just yet, but I'm going to try. I don't want to dishonour the House or Sirius. He really believes I can do a good job at this, so… I'm going to try."
There are a round of approving nods from all of the older Slytherins, and then one of those speaking glances is passed around the circle. Harry wonders if he'll ever have friends close enough to share one of those, because his Gryffindor friends mostly just say what they're thinking and he's not really there yet with Blaise and Theo.
"Well," says Gemma, after a moment. "If you've been studying as you say over the summer, I'm sure you're at least somewhat prepared."
"Here's hoping," Harry says, carefully. She sounds like she's fishing for something.
"You've been to a Wizengamot session, right?"
"Yeah," Harry says, "though just the one. It was… an experience."
"I can imagine," Hussain says.
Harry pauses and tries to weigh his words. He's never had much practice at thinking before he speaks—just speaking and then dealing with the consequences. But Sirius had told him that he needed to be a little more careful, because you could later say something that you hadn't said, but you can't unsay something. Finally, settles on saying, "I grew up in the muggle world, where being powerful looks a lot different. It was interesting to see which things were the same and which ones were different."
"There are many ways to be powerful," Warrington says in his calm voice.
"And a lot of different kinds of power," Harry says, nodding. "I've sort of been handed one, and it was interesting to see what it looked like in the Wizengamot. But I'm pretty sure it's going to look a lot different at Hogwarts."
"You've got that right," Higgs says. He leans back and stretches his arms over his head. "What do you want it to look like? Because what you've got right now—don't look at me like that, Cassius, he's not an idiot and we might as well help out—what you've got right now is potential. You can do whatever you want with it."
"I know," Harry says. He's pretty sure he's only pretending to be calm, because he's thinking a lot of things all at once, but Sirius said 'fake it 'til you make it' at least a dozen times during their lessons over the summer, and Neville had agreed pretty strongly when he'd heard it. He looks around at all of the older Slytherins: Higgs is leaning back, relaxed, but has an intent look in his eye; Gemma is leaning forward slightly, but her face is softer than Higgs's. Hussain's expression is entirely neutral; Harry's never really met her, doesn't know how to read her, but he thinks she might be as intent as Higgs and hiding it better. He glances over at Warrington and finds him looking the most truly calm of all of them, his arms crossed casually across his chest.
"Argh," Harry says, and runs a restless hand through his head. Warrington chuckles and the others seem to relax a little, and Harry decides to lay his cards on the table, as Higgs has sort of just done for them. "I don't know exactly what you want from me," he admits. "But I can tell it's something. I don't really like politics, and I'm not so good at them yet, but if you've got some sort of proposal for me I'll hear it. I'm definitely going to need allies, and all of you have been at Hogwarts for a few years, so you know things that I don't; you also grew up with this stuff, and I definitely didn't. So you've got things to offer me, and depending on what you want, I've probably got things to offer you too."
Gemma smiles. "You definitely do. Mostly we wanted to get a sense of you, because you were a total unknown last year and you're still one to some degree; you're hard to predict, and that makes those of us who're concerned for the social politics in Slytherin a bit nervous."
"I still find it frustrating that it matters at all what we do when we're kids," Harry says grumpily. "But I know it does."
"It does," Gemma agrees. "You're going to be a force in the world once you're grown up, and this is our chance to impress upon you that we're valuable allies to have—and we are." She gestures at herself and then the others. "Between us, on the political level, we represent one House and three Families, each with its own connections. But we're also potential allies for you at Hogwarts, because somehow I suspect that the status quo is going to be rather upset by you this year, whether you want it that way or not."
"What Gemma's saying in a roundabout way, Potter," Higgs interjects, "is that you could be king in Slytherin if you wanted, and though I suspect that you don't want, you should keep it in mind."
"I don't want to be king of anything," Harry says.
"So what do you want, Harry?" Gemma asks. "We'll help you, if you can."
I want for Voldemort to not have the Philosopher's Stone, Harry thinks, but he's not going to say that. He wants there not to be a war brewing. He wants Sirius and Remus to be safe, and for his friends to be happy. But none of those are things he can ask for right now. Instead, he says, "I want to learn magic, mostly. But it would be nice if people got off my back about making the connections I want to make, instead of the ones they think I should be making."
"You're talking about your Gryffindor friends?" Gemma asks. "Especially Granger, I imagine."
"Yeah," Harry says. "She might be a muggleborn, but she's probably the smartest person at Hogwarts other than the professors and anyone who gets on her bad side is an idiot, so I'll be staying friends with her; I don't care how politically stupid it is."
The reactions to that are mixed: Warrington raises an eyebrow, Higgs crosses his arms and frowns a bit, Gemma smiles, Hussain stays carefully neutral. Their problem, Harry thinks. They asked what he wanted, so he told them.
"Well and good," Higgs says, after a moment. "Not like interhouse friendships are completely unheard of, though mostly not until upper years. But what are you going to do when Malfoy inevitably mouths off to you about it?"
"Sirius once punched Lucius Malfoy in the face," Harry says blithely, "and it apparently worked pretty well to shut him up, so I'm considering that." Then he laughs at the looks on all their faces: mostly horrified. "I'm joking. But if he ever says the word mudblood in my hearing ever again, he'll regret it. Maybe not immediately, but eventually."
Higgs grimaces. "Fair enough, I suppose."
"Very good, in my opinion," Gemma says. "No self-respecting Slytherin lets some brat with an upturned nose talk shite about their mum."
Harry nods to her, even as Warrington makes a noise that makes Harry think he'd forgotten that Harry is a halfblood.
"And what about Neville Longbottom?" Higgs says after a moment. "An… interesting choice of acquaintance, that."
"We sort of became friends by accident," Harry says. "And, well. There's no formal arrangement between the House of Black and the House of Longbottom, but I consider Neville both a friend and an ally."
There's a round of nods.
"Well," Gemma says, "I'll be honest: none of us can afford to openly stand opposed to Draco Malfoy until you've established yourself a little more, but he's sort of the prince of Slytherin right now by virtue of his father's influence. You have the opportunity to usurp him, or at least act as a rival—I can't say how everyone would fall out into factions if it came to that, but it's a valid option for you."
"That's sort of what I'm expecting," Harry says. "I don't think he's going to leave me be. Even not saying anything, he'll think of me as a challenger, and I can't do nothing. I'm going to stand up for myself and the House of Black. Especially since—well. You'll see. But that means that people are going to have to pick sides. I think I'll have Blaise and Theo in my year, and… maybe Bulstrode, too. And if I have you as well, that's enough for me to be getting on with, at least to… defend my position, I guess. I don't plan to take over or use the influence that everyone's giving me, because I don't want it, but at least having it means I can make people leave me alone."
"Do you play Quidditch?" Higgs asks.
"I never have," Harry says, "but I love to fly. Do you think I should try out?"
Higgs shrugs. "It wouldn't be a bad plan for you—the Quidditch team is tight-knit and has its own influence to wield. If you managed to get onto the team, it would reinforce you."
"Even if I'd be gunning for your position?" Harry says, because he's spent enough time playing with the Snitch over the summer that he thinks he'd try out for Seeker, and Higgs was Seeker last year.
Higgs narrows his eyes briefly, and then laughs. "Go for it, Potter. I've got two years left in me at most anyway, and I've gotten a bit tall for the position anyway—I'm not as fast. I'll try out against you, of course, but if you're any good on a broom you'll probably beat me."
"I'm very good on a broom," Harry says, because he is. It sounds like bragging, but from what Sirius and Ron have said, and from the way he feels in the air, he knows he's a natural at flying. "But we'll see."
"Ha! Indeed," Higgs says. "So you did some flying this summer, I take it?"
Harry nods, and launches into telling him a bit about the flying he'd been doing this summer. The conversation eventually drifts to Quidditch at large—Harry still has never been to a live game, but Higgs and Warrington both love the sport and talk enthusiastically about it. They spend a few hours wrapped up in that conversation, but eventually Harry realizes how much time has passed and says to the others that he'd like to go say hello to his other friends before they get to Hogwarts and the madness of the Welcoming Feast. The older Slytherins let him excuse himself and he ducks out of the compartment to wander down the halls for a while, seeking his friends.
He finds his Slytherin friends first: Theo and Blaise are sharing a compartment with Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode, the lattermost of whom has a newspaper open in front of her face and seems to be ignoring the rest's conversations. She looks up with the rest of them when Harry slides the compartment door open though.
"Harry!" Blaise says, smiling. "Good to see you. We'd wondered were you'd gotten off too."
"Gemma Farley caught me," Harry says. "I've got a compartment with her and some others."
Theo nods. "Not surprising. I'm sure more than a few groups were hoping to snag you to talk."
"Probably," Harry says. He shrugs. "Can't say I'm not glad she found me first—she's nice."
"That's one word for it," Davis says, sounding a bit sour.
Harry raises an eyebrow. "You don't like her?"
Davis shrugs, glancing away. "She's not very discriminatory, is all."
"Neither am I." Harry says looks away from her to nod to Greengrass and Bulstrode. "Heir Greengrass, Heir Bulstrode," he says politely, and makes a shallow bow.
They both rise and return the bow, each saying, "Heir Black." Greengrass sits down again, but Bulstrode steps closer and says, "Mind if I have a word, Potter?"
Harry blinks at her, then nods. "Sure."
She steps past him out into the hall and he follows, shutting the door behind him. "What can I do for you, Bulstrode?" he asks.
She meets his eyes squarely and says, "I can't offer you any sort of formal alliance now, my House being what it is, but when I'm Lady, I intend to be a bit smarter about certain things than some of my foremothers. For now, I'm neutral in my politics, and I'm going to stay that way, because it's valuable to have a view of both sides."
"I don't expect you to take my side," Harry replies. "But you seem to expect things to get ugly."
"Draco Malfoy is a brat," she says and shrugs. "And he's got most of our year, including all the girls, in his pocket."
And she has to sleep in a dorm with them, Harry understands. Well, fair enough. "Aren't you putting yourself at risk talking to me like this?" Harry asks, glancing over toward the door of the compartment, where the others aren't even pretending not to be watching.
"Don't think so," Bulstrode says. "They don't know me well, but they know that I don't beat around the bush."
"A lot of people have decided to be blunt with me," Harry says. "Maybe I should be insulted."
"It's not because anyone thinks you're stupid or incapable," Bulstrode thinks. "Or that's not why I'm doing it. I just know you well enough to know you'd be more irritated than appreciative of those sorts of games—you don't think playing them makes any of us look smarter or more adept, like some people do. Going all 'round the house to get to the door makes some people think you're cautious and sly; you just think it's bullshit."
Harry blinks at the profanity, then smiles wryly. "Well, you're right about that. I value your insight, Bulstrode."
"I value your will, Potter," Bulstrode replies, and holds out a hand to shake. "Make it Millicent. And we'll have a good year."
Harry shakes and offers his own first name in return, surprised at the gesture—she'd said she wasn't offering any alliance, and he's content with that; he'd expected nothing from her. But this at least seems to mean she's willing to work together when it doesn't put her in a bad position. He's looking forward to it; last year he'd appreciated her silent unconcerned company at times when he was alienated from the rest of the House. He's glad to know that his ascension won't prevent him from seeking it again this year, at least sometimes.
They return together to the compartment and Harry sits down for a few minutes to catch up with Blaise and Theo. The two of them are circumspect, asking him only how he's been since his birthday, and he knows they'll want to talk more, and more openly, when they're in the privacy of their dorm later. After a while, however, the chilly stares of Davis and Greengrass are enough to drive Harry to move on, and he says goodbye to his friends and to Millicent, then heads on down the corridor to see if he can find his Gryffindor friends.
Eventually he does come across them, a few cars down. Neville, Ron, and Hermione are sitting together in a compartment, and they all greet Harry cheerfully when he slides the door open, inviting him to sit down.
They catch up briefly, and after a while Hermione says, "Oh, isn't it wonderful to be headed back to Hogwarts?"
"Definitely," Harry says, grinning at her. "Last year was very exciting."
"Maybe too exciting," Neville says, shaking his head. "I'm… worried."
The four of them all look around at each other silently for a moment, sharing the unspoken understanding that Neville is referencing.
"Things aren't going to be the same," Harry says.
"But we're not going to let anything bad happen," Ron says.
"Not if we can help it," Neville replies heavily. "But my gran has been saying dire things all summer."
"Sirius hasn't said anything," Harry says, "which is maybe worse. But he's been really determined to make sure I can defend myself."
"That's a good start." Hermione has a determined look on her face, sitting up straight. "All of us should work hard in Defence Against the Dark Arts this term, and, well, we'll do whatever we can. Maybe we can get the adults to tell us some of what's happened over the summer—we can't help if we don't know anything."
"I think Sirius is trying to keep me out of it," Harry says. "Neville… I know things are a bit different for you."
"Yeah," Neville says, and sighs. "I'm not sure how much Gran really knows, because she was complaining a lot about Dumbledore not telling her anything. But she said that he said to be on guard—they don't really know what Voldemort's doing, how he's going to use the Stone, but I reckon they're trying to find out. And Gran was dragging me into the Wizengamot all summer, probably to try to keep a thumb on the political side. I'm not really good at either of those things, though."
"You knew a lot more than I did at the start of the summer," Harry says. "You were a big help to me in the lessons, anyway. Listen, we'll do what we can. You three, you're Gryffindors, Dumbledore likes you. If you get the chance, try to get some information out of him. I'll work on the Slytherins."
"Yeah, guess they would see things from the other side, wouldn't they," Ron says, a bit of venom in his voice.
"Some of them," Harry says cautiously. "We're all still kids. But some of them are as interested to know what's going to happen this year as we are, maybe not because of Voldemort, but just… in general. And some might know stuff about Voldemort, too. So I'll keep my ears open, and Farley and her group might be willing to help me. I'm thinking I might tell them, if they don't already know. Blaise and Theo, too. Maybe Bulstrode."
"Is that a good idea?" Hermione asks, concerned.
Harry shrugs. "Maybe not. I'm going to make Sirius tell me whose families were involved, and then I'll know who I should and shouldn't talk to. But even if their families were part of the war, on either side… shouldn't everyone get to make their own choice? Shouldn't they know too, and be prepared, like we are? I don't want anyone to die, even if I don't really like some of them."
His friends all nod, and Neville, who Harry's sitting next to, reaches out to put a hand on his arm. "Good thinking. And… good luck, Harry."
"You too, Neville." Harry runs a hand through his hair. "You too."