Chapter Text
June 10th 1996
Gryffindor Tower
Harry sat looking out over the grounds. Classes had ended a couple of hours before and he was unable to relax his restless mind.
It was four days prior that he led his friends to the ministry; in hopes of saving his godfather; only to find the vision sent to him by Voldemort was fake. Voldemort learned of Harry’s love for his godfather and that he wouldn’t hesitate to rush to his godfather’s aid if he thought he was in danger.
Four days of a nearly unbearable pain in his chest from losing the father figure he’d waited years to gain. Four days of the pitying looks from his friends. Four days of wondering if given the same circumstances if he would have chosen the same path.
He now understood what his many dreams/visions were about. Voldemort was obsessed with learning the full wording of the prophecy that his mind was intensely focused on its location causing his thoughts to bleed through the mental link he shared with Harry.
Voldemort obsessed for months; he even tried to imperio a ministry worker into getting the prophecy for him. This was futile however because only those the prophecy pertained to were able to lift the recorded prophecy from its place on the shelves in the Hall of Prophecy located deep in the bowels of the ministry.
Lucius’ voice still echoed through his thoughts: “It’s time you learn the difference between dreams and reality.” While the memory of Bellatrix’s taunting words in that baby voice and cackling laughter in his ears—“Awe little baby Potter thought what he dreamed was true”—grated on his nerves.
Harry’s jaw clenched at Hermione’s constant know-it-all looks of “you should have listened to me” once she was released from the hospital. He hadn’t expected her unbearable attitude since their return from the ministry.
He doubted Hermione could possibly understand the amount of pressure he felt to save his godfather from possible death even though it was all an elaborate plan to get him to retrieve the prophecy from the shelf. He wondered what she would have done if it had been her parents in danger. “Would she have waited? Would she have reacted rationally?”
Harry accepted he made an error in judgment but he wasn’t going to become a martyr and feel guilty about his friends’ decisions. They had to take responsibility for their own decisions.
Neville, Ginny and Luna were the first released from the infirmary after their trip to the ministry. Dumbledore, of course, had silenced them on the incident. It didn't stop the outrage within Gryffindor when they learned they had somehow lost a massive amount of points the morning after their return. Gryffindor was now in last place for the House Cup and they weren't happy about it.
Hermione and Ron were both released just the day before, however, Hermione was on a strict regimen of potions for her injuries and would be taking them for the entire summer. Every time their gaze met she wore an “I told you so” expression on her face—it was enough to make Harry want to avoid being around her.
Ron hadn’t said much about the ministry; he was still being treated for the deep grooves in his skin. His actions under the influence of whatever curse he was struck with caused him to act more irrational than he would have without its influence. Madame Pomfrey wasn’t sure what kind of effects those experimental brains would have on Ron’s psyche; as a result, he would be spending some time over the summer with a mind healer.
Harry had feared what would've happened if they hadn’t gotten it off of him in time. Would it have found a way into his body and taken over? Harry snorted with a smothered laugh at the thought of Ron with two brains battling for dominance. The thought reminded him of a Muggle movie he listened to while in his cupboard about aliens taking over human bodies and wreaking havoc on Earth as they bid to take over the world.
His cousin Dudley liked watching sci-fi movies because things were always being blown up. The Dursleys were against anything abnormal. Harry wondered why they allowed Dudley to watch movies that depicted the unimaginable. The Dursleys weren’t known to have any inkling of an active imagination.
Harry was startled from his thoughts by a tapping at the window. Quickly opening it, he stepped back, allowing the owl to fly in and land on the back of a chair a short distance from where he was standing.
“You have a letter for me?” he questioned the bird.
Hermione sat with a calculating expression on her face, watching Harry with the unknown owl. Harry removed the sealed scroll of parchment from the owl’s leg; leaving it to fly out the way it came in, ignoring the immediate silence of his friends.
“Maybe you shouldn’t open that,” Hermione suggested. “I mean, why would anyone be sending you an owl?”
Harry heard the unspoken words: “Sirius is dead. Who else would need to write you a letter?”
Ron looked up from the chess board at Hermione’s comment. He hoped she wasn’t about to go into lecture mode about Harry receiving mail. You would think that it was against the law or something the way she carries on.
“Hermione, don’t start,” Ron ordered, looking back at the chess board.
Harry broke the seal on the letter before unrolling it to read the contents. He hadn’t expected what he read. He wondered why Dumbledore didn’t mention he would receive a notice from Gringotts about Sirius’ estate. This made Harry wonder about his own parents’ estate. His father was from an old pure-blood family, so Harry was sure that he should have other properties.
Dear Heir Potter,
Gringotts London offers our condolences on the death of your godfather, Lord Sirius Orion Black. As the executor of the Black estate here at Gringotts, it is my duty to inform you of the private will hearing held on Wednesday, June 12th, 1996 at 11:00 am here at Gringotts London. As per your godfather’s wishes, you are to be escorted here by Remus Lupin. A notice of intention has already been sent to Mr. Lupin in reference to this matter. We look forward to meeting with you to discuss your accounts.
Master Goblin Blackclaw
Black Estate Executor and Manager
Gringotts London
“Is something wrong, mate?” Ron questioned, seeing the concerned look on Harry’s face.
“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Harry assured him. “It’s just the notice from Gringotts. Sirius’ will hearing is on Wednesday.”
“That’s a bit fast, isn’t it?” Hermione asked, suspicious that the letter may be another ploy to get Harry out in the open.
“Actually, I’m surprised he didn’t get it the day after Sirius died. Fudge probably trying to stop it, no doubt,” Neville offered.
“The git,” Ron added, agreeing that Neville was probably right.
“Why?” Hermione questioned. “In the Muggle world it could take a fortnight before notices such as that are sent out. It gives the family time to properly bury their deceased loved one and grieve.”
“This isn’t the Muggle world, Hermione,” Neville reminded her, with an odd expression. He often wondered how Muggle-born witches and wizards were meant to acclimate themselves with the wizarding world if they didn’t know or understand wizarding traditions.
Hermione wasn’t sure about putting so much trust into it, because of their recent mishap with Harry’s visions from Voldemort.
“No need to worry, Hermione, it has the Gringotts seal and Remus was sent one as well. He’s supposed to accompany me there for the hearing,” Harry tried to placate her, although her recent behavior was annoying.
“I would have thought Dumbledore would be the one escorting you,” Hermione said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“This matter doesn’t concern Dumbledore, Hermione,” Ron sighed. “Dumbledore is a well-respected wizard, but he isn’t any close relation or close family friend of the Black family. I’m not surprised that Remus was listed as the one to accompany Harry.”
“It’s not like Sirius and Dumbledore had a close relationship just because Sirius was a member of the Order.”
“Still, shouldn’t will hearings include everyone listed in the will?” Hermione questioned further, still thinking things were a bit dodgy.
“Some are,” Neville advised. “It depends on how the will is set up by the deceased beforehand. If the deceased person specifies the will is to be read in private, it is only in the presence of the inheriting heir. Otherwise, all listed are in attendance.”
“Harry is attending this private hearing of the will for Sirius because he’s Sirius’ sole heir and Sirius ordered the will reading conducted privately?” Hermione asked for clarification.
“Yes, Hermione,” Ron answered in exasperation.
Hermione grudgingly accepted his answer but reserved the right to be skeptical about the whole thing. She wondered what Sirius had to leave Harry. Surely the Ministry confiscated all his money and property he owned when they arrested him for Death Eater crimes. She conveniently forgot Sirius bought Harry a high-price racing broom two years prior or that they all spent the summer at Number 12 Grimauld Place.
Hermione was a very bright witch, but she was truly ignorant to the customs and traditions of the wizarding world. Where she was adamant about learning, she never bothered to learn about important things like wizarding customs and the traditions of the wizarding world. She was never really good at fitting in and wanted to make everything fit into the ideals that she had been raised with in the Muggle world.
She spoke with authority on topics she’d read in books but rarely questioned whether those books had been written through a cultural lens she didn’t share. Her logic was sharp, but it lacked ritual weight. She understood spells, but not the sacredness of legacy. She could recite laws, but not the unspoken codes that governed magical families, bloodlines, and grief.
Harry allowed his friends to discuss the matter without offering his opinion. The matter of Sirius' will was private, and he wanted to limit what Dumbledore knew. “See how he feels to not be told things that he wants to know?” thought Harry.
He didn’t want to explain why Sirius had chosen Remus. He didn’t want to justify why the hearing was private. He didn’t want to defend the traditions Hermione refused to learn. He just wanted silence—space to grieve without being dissected.
Ron, sensing Harry’s withdrawal, shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t good with grief either, but he understood the need to protect it. “Let it be,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Hermione to hear but quiet enough not to provoke her.
Harry followed his friends down to dinner. Although he wasn’t feeling very hungry, he knew that he couldn’t avoid attending. Not by the expression Hermione wore on her face. She was going to be difficult.
She walked beside him, her arms crossed tightly, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Every few steps, she glanced at him—as if expecting him to explain, to reassure, to confess. He didn’t.
They were soon joined at their table by Luna, who, much to Hermione’s annoyance, sat down beside Harry, making Hermione sit across from him and Ron.
“Hey Luna,” Harry spoke as she sat down beside him.
Luna gave him a soft smile, her radish earrings swaying gently as she settled in. “Hello, Harry. You look like you’ve been thinking about ghosts.”
Hermione stiffened. “That’s not helpful, Luna.”
Luna blinked at her, unbothered. “Grief is a kind of haunting. It doesn’t follow rules.”
Harry’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Luna didn’t demand explanations. She didn’t try to fix things. She simply named what others avoided.
Ron gave Luna a nod of greeting, then turned back to his plate. “You’re not wrong,” he muttered. “Feels like half the tower’s haunted this week.”
Neville, sliding into the seat beside Hermione, nodded in agreement. “It’s been heavy. People don’t know what to say, so they say nothing. Or worse, they say the wrong thing.”
Hermione bristled. “I’m just trying to make sure Harry isn’t being tricked again.”
Harry looked up, his gaze steady. “I know what I’m doing.”
Hermione flushed but didn’t respond.
Luna reached for a slice of treacle tart. “Sometimes the truth comes in strange envelopes. Doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Ron snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
The conversation drifted into quieter topics—summer plans, exam results, the latest rumors about staff changes. But beneath it all, the tension lingered. The grief. The aftermath.
Harry didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to. His silence was its own kind of ritual.
“Umm Luna, where are your shoes?” questioned Ron, eyeing her bare feet with a mixture of confusion and concern.
“People like to hide my things,” Luna informed him with a lazy smile, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ron blinked. “That’s… mental.”
“That’s not right,” Hermione snapped in indignation, her brows furrowing. “Why are they stealing your things?” she questioned, her voice rising slightly.
“I know you’ve heard the name everyone calls me,” Luna responded, her tone light but her eyes distant. “I don’t fit their ideal of how a pure-blood witch should act in high society, so I’m shunned and picked on as a result. Don’t worry though, my things will appear again.”
She said it with such calm certainty that it made Harry’s chest ache. There was no bitterness in her voice, no anger—just quiet acceptance, as if she’d long since made peace with the cruelty of others.
Hermione’s mouth opened, then closed again. For once, she had no immediate rebuttal.
Harry found he held a deep sense of pity for Luna. She was truly a beautiful person—strange, yes, but luminous in a way that had nothing to do with appearances. He hated that she was treated so badly by her own house. Ravenclaw, the house of wit and wisdom, yet they couldn’t see the brilliance in front of them.
He more or less pushed the food around on his plate, thinking about his own life at the Dursleys’. His appetite now completely gone; knowing that even as a pure-blood, Luna was treated so awfully by their peers. It made him wonder how many others were quietly suffering, unseen and unheard, behind the masks they wore.
Ron glanced at Luna again, then down at her feet. “You want me to hex someone for you?” he asked, half-joking but not entirely.
Luna tilted her head. “That’s kind of you, Ronald. But no. They’ll return when they’re ready.”
Hermione huffed. “That’s not how it works, Luna. Someone took them. They don’t just walk back on their own.”
Luna smiled dreamily. “You’d be surprised what shoes remember.”
Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but Ron nudged her under the table. “Let it go,” he muttered. “She’s not hurting anyone.”
Nearing the end of dinner, Professor McGonagall appeared behind Harry. Her presence, as always, was crisp and commanding.
“Mr. Potter, Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office. The password is ‘bubble gum,’” McGonagall informed him, her lips twitching slightly in disapproval. She never did understand Albus’ obsession with Muggle sweets.
“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied, getting up from the table. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
He didn’t wait for a reply from his friends. He didn’t want to see Hermione’s narrowed eyes or Ron’s worried glance. He didn’t want to explain himself again. He followed his head of house from the Great Hall, his steps steady, his mind already bracing for the conversation ahead.
He could only assume Remus had contacted Dumbledore about Sirius’ private will hearing. Dumbledore, no doubt, didn’t want to allow him to attend and had probably been hoping that Harry would have already been locked away at the Dursleys before he received the notice. The thought made Harry’s jaw tighten.
When he reached the gargoyle, he gave the password without hesitation. “Bubble gum.”
The stone creature leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase. Harry stepped on and let it carry him upward, the familiar creak of the gears echoing in the silence.
He walked to the door, raised his hand to knock.
“Come in, Harry,” Dumbledore called out before he could knock.
Harry entered, his expression unreadable. The office looked the same—shelves of curious instruments, the soft ticking of enchanted devices, Fawkes dozing on his perch—but it felt different. Colder. Less like a sanctuary, more like a courtroom.
“You needed to see me, sir?” Harry asked, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in front of the desk. His voice was polite, but distant.
Dumbledore looked at the young man before him. He had noticed a quiet sort of resolve around the Potter heir. It was not the brittle defiance of grief, but something older, heavier. A kind of stillness that came from carrying too much for too long.
“Good evening, Harry. I wanted to speak with you about your absence from school to attend the hearing at Gringotts. Remus has informed me that he has also received a summons,” Dumbledore greeted, not waiting for Harry to confirm or deny it.
Harry nodded once, saying nothing.
“Although I don’t feel you will have ample security outside of the school,” Dumbledore continued, “I, however, cannot forbid you from attending. I would feel more comfortable, however, if I were to attend this meeting with you in Remus’ stead.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m sorry, sir, but the letter stated Remus must accompany me. It’s a private hearing, and I will not go against Sirius’ direct wishes in this matter.”
His tone was calm, but there was steel beneath it.
“I see,” Dumbledore replied, trying to recover from the brief shock of Harry’s rebuff. He folded his hands atop his desk, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Remus will be here at the appointed time to escort you. You will attend all classes up until you are to leave for your appointment. I will inform your professors of your absence.”
Harry inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“Is that all you needed me for, sir?” Harry questioned, already half-rising from his chair.
“That will be all, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore replied, watching his student leave his office with a grim expression.
His relationship with Harry was strained since the events the week prior. He had hoped time would soften the boy’s anger, but instead, Harry had grown quieter, more guarded. He hadn’t shown any signs of being hurt or wanting to talk with Dumbledore about Sirius’ death. He almost seemed to shut out thoughts of his recently deceased godfather.
Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair. He had made mistakes—grave ones—and now he was watching the consequences unfold in the set of Harry’s shoulders, in the way he no longer looked to him for answers.
And yet, there was something else in Harry now. Something Dumbledore couldn’t quite name.
Not just grief.
Purpose.
And that, perhaps, was what unsettled him most.
The days leading up to the morning of the hearing passed quickly for Harry. Remus sent an owl that he would arrive at Hogwarts at a half past 10 so that they would arrive at Gringotts a few minutes early.
Harry woke early that morning, heading to shower while his dorm-mates were still asleep. The castle was quiet, the air cool with the scent of stone and morning dew. He dressed in his black school pants and white shirt with a black jumper. He slipped on simple black robes he had purchased the year before that still fit. Wiping off his shoes, Harry put them on before sliding his wand into the wand holster on his arm. He refused to wear Dudley’s old cast-offs to the hearing.
Not bothering to wait for his housemates, Harry headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The hall was mostly empty, just a few early risers scattered among the tables. Filling his plate with eggs, a ration of bacon, and lightly buttered toast, he ate quietly as he allowed his mind to wander.
He thought of Sirius—of the way he laughed, the way he leaned in when he spoke, like every word was a secret worth sharing. He thought of the way Sirius had looked at him, not as a boy to be protected, but as someone worth trusting. That kind of love was rare. And now it was gone.
He was soon brought out of his thoughts when Ron and Hermione joined him at the Gryffindor table.
“Hey mate, why didn’t you wake me? I would have come down early with you,” Ron exclaimed as he filled his plate to the brim with food.
“Good morning, Harry. Ron’s right—it’s not like you to come to breakfast without us,” Hermione greeted, sitting across from the pair.
“Um ean, ie wu ave een othing,” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food.
Harry blinked. “What?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “He said, ‘I mean, it would have been nothing.’ Honestly, Ronald, must you do that?”
Her irritation was clear in her voice. She didn’t understand why he ate in such a manner, as if he didn’t get three square meals a day. She doubted very seriously he missed any meals at home. Mrs. Weasley was very meticulous about feeding anyone who entered their home.
“What?” Ron questioned before stuffing his mouth full of food once more, not truly waiting for a reply.
Hermione huffed at his asinine question, becoming further annoyed. Harry gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Their first class that morning was Potions, much to Harry’s disgust. Snape was just as vile as ever. He knew the man didn’t need an excuse to take points from Gryffindor. With all that pent-up hostility, Harry wondered if his grouchy professor just needed to get laid.
Harry snickered to himself. Just the thought of anyone sleeping with Snape would wilt his willy.
As expected, Harry was scolded by Snape and 50 points deducted from Gryffindor because he came to class out of uniform. It didn’t matter that he had a meeting at Gringotts, nor did it matter that Dumbledore had given him permission to be out of uniform.
Dumbledore told him in their meeting the previous evening that he would be informing the professors of his leave from the school. This was Snape’s way of being vindictive.
Harry ignored his housemates’ heated whispers about him losing Gryffindor even more points. It wasn’t like they were in the running for winning the House Cup. They had already lost Gryffindor 250 points for being out of bounds, putting them in last place. The loss of the extra 50 points wasn’t going to matter in the least.
Harry quickly left Snape’s class at the 10 o’clock bell, rushing to take his things to the Gryffindor Tower and get back into the Entrance Hall to meet Remus. Harry hoped they didn’t have to see Dumbledore before they left. He had the feeling that Dumbledore would try something.
This year had proved a lot of things to Harry—one being that Dumbledore would do what was best for the wizarding world regardless of who might get hurt in the process. That simple truth bothered him more than a little.
Harry believed that Sirius would still be alive if Dumbledore had told him why he needed to learn Occlumency. All the half-truths and avoidance tactics to keep Harry ignorant to his own fate depicted by prophecy made by their resident Divinations professor. The same prophecy that Voldemort was more than anxious to get his hands on.
Harry wasn’t going to be manipulated into feeling he had to do everything the headmaster wanted, nor was he going to be bullied anymore by Snape.
Harry reached the Entrance Hall to find Dumbledore standing, speaking with Remus.
“More manipulations,” thought Harry, coming up to the pair.
Harry didn’t know who to trust now. Dumbledore certainly wasn’t one of them. In no way did he mean that Dumbledore wasn’t a great wizard; Harry just felt that with Dumbledore, he was nothing more than a rook on a chessboard—and Dumbledore was the chess master.
“There you are, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore called out after seeing him approach. “I was just speaking with Remus about your security issues,” Dumbledore informed him.
Harry would just bet that was what he was doing. Dumbledore might be subtle with his manipulations, but the events at the Ministry gave Harry a clear perception of his headmaster.
“Harry,” Remus called out, smiling in greeting, although his smile had a sort of sadness behind it. His former professor was a mild-mannered man, who also just happened to be a werewolf—not that it mattered to Harry.
He felt kind of saddened that he hadn’t written his old professor at all since Sirius’ death; not thinking that Remus would be missing his godfather as well.
“What a git I’ve been,” thought Harry, as the pair exited the castle, walking towards the front gates.
When they were far enough away, Remus pulled his wand, checking himself as well as Harry for monitoring charms. He chuckled in amusement, finding three on himself and more than a dozen different ones on Harry.
“What exactly are you scanning us for, Professor?” Harry asked, curious as to what the man would say.
“It would seem that Albus doesn’t trust me to tell him what happened during the will hearing. You may not know this, but he wasn't pleased at being denied by Gringotts the right to accompany you today. He assumed because Fudge made him your magical guardian that he would be the automatic choice. And I thought I asked you to call me Remus? I haven’t been your professor in two years,” Remus continued.
“Sorry, Remus,” Harry said with an odd sort of embarrassed smile. “But how is Dumbledore my magical guardian? I’ve lived with the Dursleys all this time,” Harry inquired, confused.
“In the eyes of magic and Gringotts, he isn’t your magical guardian. Your godparents are,” Remus replied, knowing he said too much, but he refused to keep secrets from Harry.
Although he did not know what happened to Gabrielle, she disappeared just after Harry was born, and Remus wasn’t sure that she was even alive.
“I thought I only had Sirius,” Harry replied, clearly curious about this other person.
He wondered what his godmother was like. Was she pretty or glamorous like Narcissa Malfoy—well, when she wasn’t turning her nose up at everyone, that is? Was she sneaky like Sirius or smart like he imagined his mother to be?
Remus smiled at his cub. “Gabrielle Garrison was very beautiful. Her hair was like spun gold—it fell in curls around her face, reaching to the middle of her back the last time I saw her. She was very intelligent. She had to be, for Hogwarts to allow her to skip a year of study and join us in our fifth year. But unlike Lily, Gabrielle was a Ravenclaw.”
“Wow!” Harry exclaimed in excitement at the thought of meeting his mother’s best friend. “I hope I get to meet her one day,” Harry replied as Remus pulled him into the circle of his arms, apparating to the Diagon Alley station closest to Gringotts.
Remus stood for a moment to give Harry time to get over the disorienting feeling that came along with side-along apparition. Harry nodded, letting Remus know it was okay to let go.
“Are all means of wizarding travel so disorienting?” Harry questioned as they walked towards the wizarding bank.
“Unfortunately, we haven’t developed a means of magical travel that doesn’t require a small amount of sacrifice on the witch or wizard using the mode of travel,” Remus informed him as they entered the bank, approaching an available goblin whose nameplate read Clatchfang. His eyes were sharp, his posture rigid, and his quill hovered midair as if waiting to judge.
“State your business,” Clatchfang said, voice clipped.
“We’re here for the private will hearing of Lord Sirius Orion Black,” Remus replied calmly, handing over the summons parchment.
Clatchfang scanned the document, then looked up at Harry with a flicker of recognition. “Heir Potter,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “You are expected. Follow me.”
Harry swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how quiet the bank had become around them. A few witches and wizards glanced their way, some with curiosity, others with veiled disdain. The name Black still carried weight—and controversy.
They followed Clatchfang down a side corridor, past vault entrances and polished obsidian doors. The air grew cooler, the lighting dimmer. At last, they reached a heavy silver-inlaid door marked with the Black family crest: a rearing wolf entwined with fire and stars.
Clatchfang pressed his palm to the seal. The door shimmered and opened inward.
“This chamber is warded for privacy,” he said. “No sound escapes. No magic penetrates. You may speak freely.”
Harry stepped inside, heart pounding. The room was circular, with a single long table and two chairs. A third chair sat empty, facing the others—ornate, carved with runes. It was Sirius’ chair.
Remus placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to rush. Take your time.”
Harry nodded, stepping forward and sitting down. The goblin took his place across from them, parchment and quill ready.
“As executor of the Black estate,” Clatchfang began, “I will now read the final will and testament of Lord Sirius Orion Black, as recorded and sealed in accordance with Gringotts protocol.”
He unrolled a scroll, the parchment glowing faintly with enchantments.
“To my godson, Harry James Potter,” Clatchfang read, “I leave all properties, vaults, heirlooms, and holdings under the Black family name, including—but not limited to—Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the Black family vault, and the ancestral ring of protection.”
Harry’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected all of it. Not the house. Not the vault.
“To Remus John Lupin,” Clatchfang continued, “I leave the contents of my personal study, including my journals, correspondence, and the enchanted map of our youth. You were my brother in all but blood.”
Remus blinked rapidly, his jaw tightening. “He never told me,” he whispered.
Clatchfang continued. “To Gabrielle Garrison, if she is found alive, I leave the Black family grimoire and the protective wards of the Garrison estate, to be reinstated in her name.”
Harry’s heart thudded. Gabrielle was real. Sirius hadn’t forgotten her.
“In the event of my death,” Clatchfang read, “I request that Harry be given full access to his parents’ vaults and holdings, including any sealed documents left in trust. I further request that no member of the Ministry interfere with the execution of this will.”
Harry looked at Remus. “Did you know about the Potter vaults?”
Remus nodded slowly. “I suspected. James came from an old line. But the Ministry sealed many records after Voldemort’s rise.”
Clatchfang rolled the scroll closed. “The transfer of assets will begin immediately. You will receive a ledger and key access within the hour.”
Harry sat back, overwhelmed. “That’s… a lot.”
Remus gave a soft chuckle. “Sirius never did anything halfway.”
Clatchfang stood. “If you wish to speak privately, the room is yours for another fifteen minutes.”
Harry nodded. “Thank you.”
The goblin bowed and exited, leaving them in silence.
Harry turned to Remus. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about Gabrielle? Or the vaults?”
Remus sighed. “Because Dumbledore didn’t want you asking questions. He thought protecting you meant keeping you ignorant.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “That’s not protection. That’s control.”
Remus didn’t argue. “You’re right.”
Harry looked down at the scroll. “Sirius trusted me. Even after everything.”
“He loved you,” Remus said quietly. “And he believed in your strength. Even when you didn’t.”
Harry swallowed hard. “I miss him.”
“I do too,” Remus replied, voice thick. “Every day.”
They sat in silence, the weight of legacy settling around them like dust.
“This way,” Clatchfang ordered, walking from behind the large counter and taking them down a hall that Harry never knew existed until that very moment. The marble floors gave way to obsidian tile, and the air grew cooler, more solemn. Clatchfang opened a side door before leading them further down a side hall.
“Wait here,” he ordered, leaving them standing in what Harry thought was a lounge of sorts. The room was quiet, with high-backed chairs and a low table carved from black stone. A single tapestry hung on the wall—woven with the Black family crest and the Latin phrase Fortis et Fidelis.
Clatchfang walked through another set of doors, disappearing from view. He entered the office of the Black and Potter family managers.
“Heir Potter and Mr. Lupin to see you, sirs,” Clatchfang informed the master goblin, waiting for further instructions.
“Take them to the Granstad office,” Blackclaw ordered, gathering the paperwork he needed.
Clatchfang returned, leading them down a hall to the right of the lounge area to a large office with an extended desk. Harry wondered why such small creatures needed such a large desk—but then again, goblins were known for their precision and power, not their size.
The goblin sitting behind the desk, Harry assumed, was the Black family account manager. His robes were deep crimson, embroidered with silver runes, and his eyes gleamed with ancient magic.
“Heir Potter and Mr. Lupin, have a seat,” Blackclaw greeted, waiting for his clients to be seated. “It was requested you attend this private viewing by the haste of your godfather in his last orders two weeks before his passing.”
“He was very particular about who was allowed to hear this reading alongside you. Of course, before the day is out, all your questions will have been answered. Shall we proceed?” Blackclaw asked.
Harry nodded.
Blackclaw removed a black box that he placed a weird-shaped key into. After a series of clicks, it opened, and the image of Sirius appeared standing before him. It was as if Sirius was standing in front of a mirror, talking to himself—his posture relaxed, his grin familiar.
“I, Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, being of sound mind and body, hereby declare this to be my last will and testament. Any codicils before this should be null and void.”
“If you are viewing this will, then I’m off playing pranks with Prongs in the beyond. Do not mourn for me—remember me by the deeds that I have done and the remarkable pranks I played.”
Harry swallowed hard. Sirius’ voice was warm, mischievous, and heartbreakingly alive.
First Order – “I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, hereby irrevocably disown Bellatrix Aries Lestrange née Black for tarnishing the name of Black. May your name be forever stricken from the family lines. The inheritance vault belonging to Bellatrix Aries Lestrange née Black shall be reverted back into the Black estate. I so order… so mote it be.”
Magic flared at his order, a pulse of silver light rippling through the room.
Second Order – “I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, hereby order the Black inheritance vault of one Narcissa Lissette Malfoy née Black to be sealed upon such time as she becomes free of dark influences that tarnish the name of Black. If this should not happen upon her death, this vault is to be transferred to her son, one Draconius Lucien Alexander Malfoy—only if it is proven that he does not commit any acts that would tarnish the name of the Noble family Black. Should such shame occur, the vaults are to be reverted back into the Black estate. I so order… so mote it be.”
Harry noticed magic flared again at his order. He wondered if Sirius’ magic would flare every time he disbursed an order—each flare a final act of defiance, a last protection.
Third Order – “I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, hereby reinstate Andromeda Athena Tonks née Black into the House of Black, and her inheritance vault shall be unsealed upon the reading of this will… I so order… so mote it be.”
Fourth Order – “I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, request the congnationen hereditatem be taken by my godson, Hadrienius Jacques Potter…”
Harry looked confused. Remus noticed immediately and leaned in to explain.
He wasn’t aware that Harry did not know his birth name.
“You were born Hadrienius Jacques Potter—Jacques after your father. Lily called you Harry for short because when you were born you had a head full of messy black hair.”
“But where did James come from?” Harry questioned, still confused.
“Jacques is the name of your great-great-grandfather, who your father was named after. It is James in French.”
“So everyone called him the English version of his name?”
“Your father insisted after so many mispronunciations of his name first year. However, Lily always called him Jacques once they got together.”
“Why does everyone think my name is Harry James Potter?” Harry questioned further.
“That I cannot answer. I thought Dumbledore had explained everything to you long before now.”
Harry nodded in understanding, before a confused expression crossed his face. He looked at Blackclaw, the Black family account manager.
“Is there any reason why the will stopped?”
“Mr. Potter, you must take the potion before the will can proceed. Your compliance is contingent upon whether you take the potion or not.”
“And if I decide against the potion?” Harry inquired, wondering what would happen.
Blackclaw looked at the young heir.
Remus paled. “Draco Malfoy will become Lord Black by default as the only other male of Black blood,” he said with misery.
Harry’s stomach turned. The idea of Draco inheriting Sirius’ legacy was unbearable.
“Your decision, Mr. Potter,” Blackclaw inquired.
“I will take the potion,” said Harry, determined not to let the blonde git get his hands on his godfather’s legacy.
Blackclaw removed a sealed box from a side drawer, placing it on the table in front of Harry.
“It is spelled to your signature. Only you may open the container,” Blackclaw explained.
Harry opened the box with no problems, removing a potion vial filled with a deep purple and red substance. Harry assumed the red going through the potion was blood. The thought of drinking someone else’s blood—or blood at all—was daunting.
Taking a deep breath, Harry removed the seal, drinking the potion from the vial. Leaning over to place the vial back on the desk, Harry moaned in pain as the potion took effect.
Remus caught him before he could fall to the floor, conjuring a sofa to lay him on while the potion completed.
“You could have warned him about the effects of the potion,” Remus snapped, worried about the pain that Harry was in.
“Warning him would have diluted the effects of this particular potion. The requested person must do so without that knowledge for it to be completely effective,” Blackclaw informed Remus without as much as blinking at the older wizard’s obvious tense expression that was filled with concern and worry about the younger wizard.
Remus watched as the potion made the necessary changes not only to Harry’s appearance but his features as well. He didn’t look like an exact copy of James, but a perfect blend of Sirius, James, and Lily.
Harry’s hair lengthened, reaching just past his shoulders and more wavy than Sirius’ curly hair. Although it remained its inky black texture, he no longer had the unruly mop of hair that his father Jacques was known for. No—this image of Harry was unique, and Remus was very pleased that it set Harry apart from the stigma of being a Jacques Potter lookalike.
He even grew taller as the magic of the potion fixed the years of damage done to him by the Dursleys. If Remus had to estimate, he would say that Harry stood nine inches taller from his 5’5 frame. Harry would have to relearn to maneuver his broomstick with the added height and body weight.
Harry lay there for a few minutes, trying to remember what happened. His thoughts were interrupted by Blackclaw requesting a muscle relaxant potion and mild pain draught.
Harry knew something had changed about him. He felt heavier somehow—more grounded, more real.
Opening his eyes, the first change he found was that he couldn’t see with his glasses on. Removing them and rubbing his eyes, Harry sat up slowly, blinking against the soft light of the office.
The world came into focus—sharper, clearer than he’d ever experienced. The blur he’d lived with since childhood was gone. He could see the fine etching on the goblin’s desk, the faint shimmer of protective runes in the corners of the room, even the individual strands of Remus’ graying hair.
“I can see,” he whispered, stunned.
Remus gave a soft smile. “Your vision was corrected as part of the restoration. The potion repairs magical and physical damage—anything that stunted your development.”
Remus handed him each potion, placing the empty vials on the desk in front of them.
“You’re alright,” Remus said gently, watching him closely. “Just breathe through it.”
Harry touched his face, then his chest, then looked down at his hands. They felt stronger. His limbs felt longer. His robes didn’t fit quite the same.
“I feel… different,” he said quietly. Harry flexed his fingers, then touched his face again. “Like I’ve been rebuilt from the inside out.”
Blackclaw nodded. “That is not far from the truth. The potion was designed to restore your magical inheritance and correct the physical suppression caused by years of neglect. You are now recognized by Gringotts and by magic itself as the rightful heir of the Black line.”
Harry looked down at his hands again. “I feel heavier. Not just physically. Like something’s settled inside me.”
“That would be the binding,” Blackclaw said. “The legacy of the House of Black has accepted you. You are now its anchor.”
Remus gave a soft chuckle. “You’ve always carried weight, Harry. Now it has a name.”
Blackclaw confirmed. “You are now recognized by Gringotts and by magic itself as the true heir of the Black line. The potion has activated dormant magical inheritance and corrected the suppression caused by your previous guardians.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “You mean the Dursleys.”
“Yes,” Blackclaw said simply. “They stunted your growth, your magical core, and your physical development. The potion has undone what years of neglect tried to bury.”
Harry looked at Remus, who nodded solemnly. “You were always powerful, Harry. But now… now you’ll feel it.”
Blackclaw cleared his throat. “Now that the potion has taken effect, we may proceed with the remainder of the will.”
He tapped the black box again, and Sirius’ image reappeared, looking slightly more serious now.
“Are you ready to continue Lord Black Potter?” Blackclaw asked.
“Yes,” Harry answered retaking his place beside Remus waiting for Blackclaw to reactivate the will globe.
Remus gave him a reassuring nod, his hand resting lightly on Harry’s shoulder. The room had shifted—less like a bank office and more like a sacred chamber. The air felt heavier, charged with ancestral magic.
Sirius appeared once again smiling brightly, “I didn’t doubt for a minute that you would deny my request cub. The alternative would have been dire.”
Harry snorted softly. Even in death, Sirius couldn’t resist dramatic flair. The warmth in his voice made Harry’s chest ache.
The globe paused when Harry looked away looking at Remus, who nodded in an encouraging way; rubbing his hand through his hair, Harry wondered what his godfather was up to. It seemed that even in death Sirius was causing mischief; looking back up at the globe it was once again activated.
“You are from hence forth named Hadrienius Jacques Poseidon Black Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Potter and the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. As governed by the Black family charter, the heir apparent is immediately emancipated upon the death of the previous Lord Black.
A pulse of magic rippled through the room, brushing against Harry’s skin like a warm breeze. The words weren’t just ceremonial—they were binding, ancient, and absolute.
Harry sat shocked, “Sirius had given him his freedom from the Dursley’s that Dumbledore couldn’t overrule.”
Remus exhaled slowly, his eyes soft. “He wanted you free, Harry. Truly free.”
Any and all marital contracts under the name Hadrienius Jacques Potter are hence forth voided. Remus Jonathan Allander Lupin you are hereby named as Mentor to Hadrienius Jacques Poseidon Black-Potter until he reaches the age of 23 or until he releases you from your duties.
Harry glanced at Remus, who gave a small smile. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
As ordered in the Potter will by Lord Jacques Ashton Ignotius Potter, Hadrienius Jacques Poseidon Black-Potter is to retain the last name Black-Potter in any marriage.” I so order…so mote it be.
The magic flared again, sealing the decree. Harry felt the name settle into him—not just a title, but a legacy.
At his announcement of Harry’s name change a new magical birth certificate appeared showing that his mother and bearer was Lillian Grace Evans, his father’s listed as Jacques Ashton Ignotius Potter and Sirius Orion Black… There was also a family tree tracing his family magic back for several centuries.
Harry stared at the parchment, his throat tight. Sirius had claimed him—not just as a godson, but as family. Blood and bond.
Harry folded the new birth record placing it in the inner pocket of his robes. He hoped Dumbledore wouldn’t look too closely into the name change and start digging for information. He wanted the older man as oblivious at possible to what was happening in his life.
Remus didn’t comment, but his approving silence spoke volumes.
Fifth Order- “Hadrienius Jacques Poseidon Black Potter is to marry a pureblood witch or wizard of his choosing or the choosing of his manager Remus Jonathan Allander Lupin, to ensure the continuation of the Black and Potter legacies. In accordance with magical law, he is allowed to have dual spouse and enter a triad of his choosing if he so wishes. The same rules apply betroths must be of pure blood and good standing in the magical community. I so order, So Mote it be.
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Dual spouse?” he whispered.
“Why would Sirius put that in the will?” thought Harry, his mother was a muggle born. Was his father subjected to a betrothal contract as well?”
Harry looked away from the orb at Remus’ confusion in his eyes. “What does he mean I have to marry a pureblood? My mom was a muggle born.” questioned Harry.
“Your father was nearly betrothed until he broke down pleading with your parents. He was very much in love with your mother since our first train ride to Hogwarts. Your grandmother talked your grandfather around, once they met Lily, they adored her just as much,” Remus assured.
Harry nodded slowly, trying to imagine his father pleading for love over legacy.
“But Sirius wasn’t,”
“He was however, he ran away the summer after our 5th year. I don’t know who his parents had in mind, but I know Sirius was against any of his parent’s choices.”
“Because of your unique heritage you are able to have two wives, two husbands or one wife and one husband,” Blackclaw explained to the young Lord.
Harry blinked. “That’s… a lot.”
The thought of having two wives was a little overwhelming for Harry. Remus smiled at his charge. “Things will work themselves out, they always do.” Remus assured him. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat before turning his gaze back to the orb.
Six Order- “the Black property located at number 12 Grimauld Place in London is to be gutted and remodeled to be used as the first wizarding orphanage and is to be named “The Potter’s House” in honor of Lilly and Jacques Potter. This order is to take precedence after the viewing of this will. All items removed from the house of Black shall be returned to the Black ancestry vaults to include stolen or otherwise stated.”
Harry’s breath caught. An orphanage. Named for his parents. A place of safety born from a house of shadows.
“I order the Black Estate dispersed as such,”
“To Albus Dumbledore ---150,000 galleons to be used in the war efforts against Voldemort.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected Sirius to leave Dumbledore anything.
“To my best friend and beloved Remus Jonathan Allander Lupin--- 1,000,000 galleons, where in life you refused in death you cannot…ha ha Sirius laughed at being able to force Remus to allow him to take care of him.”
Remus shook his head at the image. Sirius was more than just his friend. Sirius was his beloved and although Remus didn’t want pity or handouts. This he could accept as his love’s request.
Harry reached out, squeezing Remus’ hand. “He knew you’d argue.”
“To my favorite Cousin Andromeda Athena Tonks ne Black --- I leave Devons Gate and all the portraits within its halls. All furnishings and heirlooms have been removed and placed within the family vaults. I’m sure after everything is inventoried Hadrienius will allow you to pick out things you may want.”
“To my cousin Nymphadora Alexi Tonks---- I leave the amount of 350,000 galleons and the penthouse located the East end of London and all its furnishings. All I ask is that anything you don’t want should be returned to the Black estate.”
Harry smiled faintly. Sirius had thought of everyone.
“To my favorite twins Fred and George Weasley-- I leave the amount of 100,000 galleons to assist in your research. I believe in you and know that you will make the Marauders proud. I only request that you make your partnership with my godson legal and binding to ensure that no one can take advantage of you. I recommend that you see my estate manager Blackclaw he truly knows how to invest your money and get you a better return. Good Luck.”
Harry chuckled. “They’re going to lose their minds.”
“To my sole Heir--- Hadrienius Jacques Poseidon Black-Potter, I leave you everything that hasn’t been stated otherwise. My only hope is that you live well and have fun. Don’t give the twins a hard time about making you a partner in their business by giving them the startup money the three of you entered into a binding magical contract and business is just that business.”
The will globe went silent. Blackclaw pulled a small velvet black box from the drawer presenting it to Harry. Harry opening the box to see a ring of steel titanium with a hexagonal shaped black stone; that he thought to be an onyx, the engraving on the stone was of a pentagram with a sword going through it; a snake around it with its head on the hilt engraved on the inside of the ring were runes; having not taken ancient runes Harry was unsure what the runes were meant to do.
Harry removed the ring placing it on his right pointer finger, Harry felt dizzy as the magic of the ring scanned his magic and began pouring the knowledge of the Black family into his mind.
Remus steadied him, murmuring grounding spells under his breath. The transfer was intense—centuries of knowledge, rituals, and secrets flooding into Harry’s consciousness.
“Now if you are ready to continue?” Blackclaw asked making sure the young lord was ok after the magical knowledge transfer in the ring. Harry smiled nodding that he was indeed ready to continue.
Harry’s heart thudded. Gabrielle was real. Sirius hadn’t forgotten her.
Final Order – “To Hadrienius, I leave my memories. Enchanted and sealed in the vault. You’ll find laughter there, and truth. And maybe, if you’re lucky, a few good pranks.”
Sirius winked, then bowed his head. “Live well, pup. Make the name Black mean something again.”
The image faded.
Harry sat in silence, the weight of legacy settling around him.
Remus placed a hand on his shoulder. “He believed in you. Every word of that will was love.”
Harry nodded, his throat tight. “I won’t let him down.”
Blackclaw stood. “The transfer of assets will begin immediately. You will receive a ledger and key access within the hour. Your magical signature has been updated. You are now recognized as Lord Black.”
Harry blinked. “Lord Black?”
“Yes,” Blackclaw said. “By blood, by magic, and by Sirius’ decree.”
Harry exhaled slowly. “Then I accept.”
At that moment another goblin entered the room carrying several files and a medium size box.
“Ah, Apponox, you’re right on time,” Blackclaw greeted the goblin as he joined him behind the extended desk.
Apponox gave a curt nod, his movements precise and practiced. His robes were a deep navy threaded with silver glyphs, marking him as a senior vault master. His eyes flicked to Harry, assessing, but not unkind.
“Lord Black-Potter, this is Master Goblin Apponox, the Potter family account manager. He will be handling the reading of your parents’ will and giving you the Potter family rings.”
Harry straightened slightly in his chair, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. The Black ring still pulsed faintly on his hand, as if aware of its counterpart’s imminent arrival.
“Is there anything you require on the Black estate?” Blackclaw questioned.
Harry looked thoughtful, his brows furrowing. “I want a full inventory completed on the Black family account, and if you could send myself and Remus a portfolio of my account, it would be greatly appreciated. I’ve never received any kind of monthly statement since returning to the wizarding world. There is also the matter of my mentor’s salary,” Harry continued.
Remus blinked, clearly surprised by the mention. “Harry, that’s not necessary—”
“It is,” Harry said firmly, not looking at him. “You’ve done more for me than anyone. You deserve to be compensated.”
“The salary has already been taken care of,” Blackclaw informed him.
“Very well. I will send that along to your mentor and a copy to you as well,” Blackclaw replied. With a final nod, he turned and left the room in silence, heading out to start inventorying the account.
Apponox pulled two black boxes from the medium size box he came in with.
“Lord Black-Potter, these are the last will and testaments of your parents. We will first be viewing the will of Lillian Grace Potter née Evans.”
Harry nodded, nervous about viewing the image of his mother. His fingers curled slightly against the armrest, and Remus, sensing the shift, patted his hand as a sign of comfort which Harry quickly welcomed.
Without further ado, Apponox activated the will, and the image of Lily Potter appeared.
She stood tall and radiant, her red hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, green eyes bright with love and determination. Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
“I, Lillian Grace Potter, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this as my last will and testament.
“First order—In the event that I should not survive the war against Voldemort, my son Hadrienius Jacques Potter is to remain in the custody of his father, Jacques Ashton Ignotius Potter. Should Jacques also perish, Hadrienius Jacques is to be given into custody of his godmother Gabrielle Garrison, who is to share custody with his godfather Sirius Orion Black. Under no circumstances should my son Hadrienius Jacques Potter be given into the custody of anyone not listed in this codicil.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. The Dursleys had never been mentioned. Dumbledore had ignored this.
“Should neither be available, Hadrienius is to be given to Franklin and Alice Longbottom to be raised with their son Neville.”
“To my husband, should he survive this war against Tom Riddle, I leave the care of our only son and control of my assets, to include my vaults and two properties. One in the muggle world that we are leasing to my adopted sister Petunia Dursley née Evans and her husband Vernon Dursley, and Lily’s Keep that is located in Australia.”
Harry blinked. “She left them a house?”
Remus gave a small shrug. “She tried to keep the family together, even when they didn’t deserve it.”
“To my best friend Gabrielle Neaveh Garrison—godmother of my son Hadrienius Jacques—I leave you my book collection as well as 100,000 galleons to continue on with your dream.”
“To my brother in all but blood, Severus Snape—I leave you 100,000 galleons to procure the ingredients you need to create the potion you’ve been talking about since we were first years. I love you, and I hope that you know that I’ve forgiven you and wish you a bright future.”
Harry sat shocked. “Why is my mum leaving something to Snape?” he questioned Remus.
“Gabrielle wasn’t your mother’s only best friend. Severus and your mother were childhood friends. They both grew up in the same neighborhood when they were children,” Remus informed him.
Harry’s mind was reeling at that information. No wonder Snape hated his father—Jacques Potter had taken his childhood friend away from him. Harry couldn’t imagine what Snape felt, losing someone that was like a sibling to him. No wonder the git was so uptight.
“To my dear friend, my brother, Remus Jonathan Allander Lupin, I leave the amount of 350,000 galleons. Live well, Remmie. I hope by the time of my passing you and Sirius have stopped tiptoeing around each other and got hitched… You both are deserving of the love of a lifetime.”
Harry turned once more, stopping the viewing, looking at Remus—pale.
He hadn’t known that Sirius and Remus were more than friends.
“Not many knew,” Remus admitted, his voice low, wanting to avoid the conversation as much as possible.
Harry nodded, turning back towards the box that held the image of his mother.
“Should my husband not survive the war, my estate is to be turned over to my son upon his 16th birthday.”
The will fell silent; Remus as well as Harry had tear tracks on their faces. Harry sighed, feeling emotionally drained with how the meeting was going. He didn’t know how he should feel about his being the Lord of two houses.
Apponox activated the last will. Jacques appeared before them. His hair messy as ever, with small round glasses covering his eyes.
“I, Jacques Ashton Ignotius Potter, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare that this is my last will and testament.”
“First Order—Should my wife and I not survive, my heir Hadrienius Jacques should not be raised outside of the magical world. He is to be given to his godparents Gabrielle Garrison and Sirius Black. Should these two be unable to care for him, Hadrienius is to be raised by Franklin and Alice Longbottom or the manager of the Potter estate, Lord Nicodemus Salvatore.”
“Under no circumstances should my son be raised outside of the magical community. He is to be raised as the young Lord he is to become so that he may be ready to take his place in society.”
“I disperse my estate as follows.”
“To my godfather Maximus Salvatore—I leave my father’s rare Egyptian chess set.”
“To my godbrother Nicodemus Salvatore—I leave my ritual knife. I hope that it will fill the void of my absence in your life.”
“To my godmother Lila Salvatore—I leave you my mother’s collection of rare flowers that remain cared for on the Potter estate.”
“To my best friend Remus Jonathan Allander Lupin—1,000,000 galleons and Marauders Den located in Edinburgh, Scotland.”
“To Albus Dumbledore—150,000 galleons to be used in the war efforts against Voldemort.”
“To Severus Snape—We have never gotten along, but I would like to think that we’ve become tolerant in our adult lives. I wanted to ruin your friendship with Lily; however, I won’t apologize for loving her. She had enough love for the both of us in different ways. As a peace offering in death, I leave you 100,000 galleons in hopes that you will create this potion that Lily can’t stop talking about. But I love all things Lily.”
Harry couldn’t help the smile that came from his face at his father’s goofy expression. He wondered if his father was thinking of his mother’s excitement in that moment of making the will.
“To my best friend and brother Sirius Orion Black, I leave the binded notes on our many pranks. I’m hoping that you will get off your lazy bum and publish the book for our future Marauders in the making—and your trust vault that was created by my parents before our graduation.”
“The remainder of the Potter estate is to be given to my heir, Hadrienius Jacques Potter. Mentor for my son will be Nicodemus Donovan Salvatore until he is 23 years of age or otherwise released.”
Harry looked confused. “Is there a problem, Lord Black-Potter?” Apponox questioned, seeing his expression.
“According to my father’s will and my godfather’s will, I have two different mentors. Is that normal?” Harry asked.
“You are the Lord of two houses, Lord Black-Potter, and as such you will need a manager for both estates.”
Apponox removed the last box from the box. It was made of blue velvet. The ring inside was made of the same titanium; however, the stone was a deep blue sapphire engraved with a Pegasus standing on its hind legs, its wings expanded. Harry slipped the ring onto his left pointer finger.
“This card will have to be renewed in five years,” Apponox informed him, sliding the sapphire card into a protective sleeve and handing it to Harry.
The card that Blackclaw held was white. Harry placed his bloody finger on the card, which turned red briefly before the Black family crest appeared with Harry’s name and a different 16-digit number. The runes etched into the card shimmered faintly, binding it to his magical signature.
He began signing what seemed to him to be endless documents to take over as head of house of his two families. Each signature flared with magic, sealing his authority over vaults, properties, and ancestral holdings. The weight of legacy pressed against his shoulders, but Harry didn’t flinch. He signed with steady hands, his gaze unwavering.
While Remus signed for what he was given from Lily, James, and Sirius, the funds automatically transferred into his account. He requested a card similar to Harry’s, and Apponox obliged, handing him a silver-edged card bearing the Lupin name and a quiet hum of protective enchantments.
Remus believed it best that Dumbledore remained unaware of the changes that Harry had undergone at Gringotts. He talked Harry through how to apply a simple glamour that would return his appearance back to what they were before taking the potion.
Harry practiced the spell twice, adjusting the angle of his wand and the intent behind the incantation. When the glamour settled over him, his reflection in the polished desk showed the familiar tousled hair and glasses. The transformation was seamless.
“I think it would be best to travel by Muggle means,” Harry said, glancing at Remus. “That way we can’t be traced by the Order, and creating portkeys is just too risky with us not knowing exactly where the house is. I don’t think I’m up for trying international flooing yet.”
Remus laughed at the thought of Harry’s reaction to international floo. “I will take care of our travel arrangements after I have cleared my things out of Grimmauld Place and have them taken to Marauders Den.”
“I have one better—why not have Winky and Dobby do it? That way they can fix any repairs that may need taken care of,” Harry suggested. “It would also limit the amount of time that Winky and Dobby have to remain at Hogwarts.”
“Excellent idea. The goblins will probably be at Grimmauld Place within a day to start with the rebuild,” Remus stated, clearly thinking about everything that would need to be taken care of. He even requested that Blackclaw manage his accounts as well. He might as well make his money grow; he could live off the money he was paid to be Harry’s mentor.
“Oh wait, how are we going to get Buckbeak to Lily’s Keep?” Harry asked, worried about the hippogriff.
“I will apply a shrinking spell to him so that he’s the size of a house cat and place him in one of those animal carriers so he can go on the airplane with us,” Remus assured Harry as they headed towards the floo connection to return to Hogwarts.
Harry paused at the threshold, glancing back at the goblins who had helped him reclaim his legacy. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Blackclaw bowed his head. “Live well, Lord Black-Potter. The ancestors are watching.”
Apponox gave a small nod. “And remember, legacy is not just what you inherit—it’s what you choose to protect.”
Harry stepped into the floo, Remus at his side, and vanished in a swirl of green flame.
*******
Dumbledore sat behind his desk in his office waiting for Remus and Harry to return to Hogwarts.
The silver instruments on the shelves ticked and spun, sensing the shift in magical authority that had rippled through the castle. Fawkes watched silently from his perch, his feathers fluffed, as if he too sensed the unraveling of old plans.
“How did things go?” Dumbledore questioned as soon as they came through the floo network.
Harry stepped out first, his posture straighter than before, his magic humming quietly beneath his skin. Remus followed, his expression calm but unreadable.
“Harry is now Lord Black-Potter,” Remus began. “However, per orders of the will, Number 12 Grimmauld Place is to be remodeled to become the first ever magical orphanage in honor of Lily and James. Sirius even named the orphanage ‘The Potter’s House.’ Lily’s and James’ wills were executed as well, so I’m sure everyone involved will be summoned to sign for what they were given.”
Remus couldn’t help but notice how tense Dumbledore became at the mention of James and Lily’s wills being read. The older wizard’s fingers twitched slightly on the edge of his desk, his eyes narrowing behind his half-moon spectacles.
“That’s quite alright,” Dumbledore assured him, voice smooth. “I have already moved the headquarters for the Order to another location and the Fidelius Charm has been applied.”
Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He could feel the shift in Dumbledore’s tone—the subtle dismissal, the attempt to reassert control.
“You are excused, Harry,” Dumbledore ordered, “I’m sure Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are anxiously awaiting your return,” wanting Harry out of the room so that he could speak freely and get the information on the will reading out of Remus.
Harry nodded once, not bothering to hide the flicker of amusement in his eyes. He knew the headmaster was about to interrogate Remus about what happened at the will hearing. He wasn’t worried though—Remus was loyal to him, and Harry couldn’t be more pleased. He would’ve loved to see the startled expression on the older man’s face when he hit a brick wall in finding out anything.
Exiting the staircase, Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower. The halls were quiet, the portraits watching him with curious eyes. He was sure Ron and Hermione were waiting for his return. He just hoped they didn’t ask questions he wasn’t willing to answer.
Remus looked curiously at Dumbledore, waiting for the man to try to manipulate the situation for his best interest. After he was sure that Harry was gone and the guardian once again closed, Dumbledore sighed.
“I assume that the wills named who Harry’s mentor would be?”
“Yes,” Remus replied, but didn’t give any further information.
“And who is it?” Dumbledore ordered more than asked.
“His mentor is Lord Nicodemus Salvatore, the son of Maximus Salvatore—James’ godbrother,” Remus replied, thinking it was better not to tell the man that Harry had dual mentors. He was honor-bound to protect his friend’s heir and his employer.
Adding further to Albus’s plight, Remus informed him that Gringotts had arranged for Harry to begin his tutelage with his mentor as soon as the summer holidays begun.
Dumbledore was greatly displeased by this, but he couldn't interfere with the execution of a will. He’d planned for Harry to return to Lily’s Muggle sister and her family for the summer.
“As his magical guardian, I don’t think it wise to have Mr. Potter in some unknown location where I can’t protect him,” Dumbledore advised.
“Control him, more like it,” thought Remus.
“According to Gringotts, Nicodemus Salvatore is now Harry’s magical guardian, as stated in the charter for such things to protect the heir,” Remus replied, holding his face blank but laughing inside. Oh, he just bet the manipulative old coot was trying to figure out a way to keep some semblance of control over everyone in the Order—especially Harry.
Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel his carefully laid plans begin to slip from his grasp. He knew legally he had no standing in placing Harry with the Muggles, but with Fudge backing him as Harry’s magical guardian, the Wizengamot had denied Maximus Salvatore’s petition for consideration.
What Dumbledore didn’t know—what no one had told him—was that Harry had been emancipated. That the title of Lord Black-Potter had triggered full magical majority. That the boy he thought he could still control was now legally beyond his reach.
It helped that with his fast work, the wills were sealed. It wouldn’t have helped if the wills had been activated—the boy would have been far out of his reach. Now things were going to be even more difficult with him meeting the Salvatore family. He had to think of a way to gain the boy’s compliance to return to the Muggles. His plans could still be for naught if he wasn’t able to convince the boy to accept his guidance.
As he sat thinking about his now ruined plans for the Potter heir—all because Jacques Potter chose his son’s mentor from the very family Dumbledore wanted to keep him away from—he felt the weight of his miscalculations.
Not only had Dumbledore lost the Potter heir to the influences of Salvatore, he was now the head of the International Confederation of Wizards, which left Albus with few controls in the international law arena.
Maximus Salvatore had been a thorn in Dumbledore’s side since the pair first met, long before the Potters had Jacques. It didn’t improve their feelings toward one another when Maximus flat out refused to join the Order of the Phoenix. The man’s family wasn’t completely dark, but they didn’t fall into the beliefs of most light families.
Dumbledore had tried unsuccessfully to convince Gwydion that he was the better person to lead Jacques should he die in the war. But instead, Maximus—who was James’s godfather—was named as mentor for the Potter heir, making Jacques formidable in the Wizengamot as well as in managing his accounts.
Jacques wasn’t one to be persuaded to others’ beliefs. Dumbledore, however, did what was needed to get the desired end results. He was not in a position of power in the Wizengamot anymore and knew that persuading any of the gray families to vote in favor of the laws he needed passed would take funding. Funding that Dumbledore didn’t have and would need. There were several bills due to be presented in the coming months that Dumbledore hoped to get passed.
“I assume that you will be able to assist the Order with seeking out the werewolves?” Dumbledore asked, pushing the problems with the Potter heir from his mind, thinking at least he still had control over some things.
“I’m not sure how long I will be gone,” Remus replied. “Jacques has left me a house and a few galleons, so I want to wolf-proof the basement for the full moon now that Grimmauld Place isn’t an option any longer. I’m also unsure as to the state of the residence, as it has been vacant for quite some time.”
“I’m also supposed to accompany Harry to meet his mentor. I will contact you when we arrive safely,” Remus suggested, not wanting to alert the older man that things between he and Harry were more than they seemed.
“I really should be going. I will pack up everything that belongs to the Order and send it along if you so wish?” Remus offered as he stood.
“That would be appreciated. I will contact Molly and inform her that you will be bringing the Order’s property to the Burrow before you leave for your new home,” Dumbledore advised, his thoughts lingering on Remus being named in the will.
Remus nodded, his expression polite but distant. He turned and left the office, his robes swishing behind him.
Dumbledore sat in his office long after Remus left, looking through old obscure laws. Plans forming in his mind as he made notations on laws that may be of use to him in the future.