Chapter 56
"Sirius, is this really necessary?" I trudged after my godfather and the pair of goblins escorting us, moving with the slightly dazed gait of someone still processing what was happening. "I mean, you said yourself that your Uncle Alfred only gave you something like this for your sixteenth birthday, and—"
"Which means I'm going to do better than old Alfred! Besides, this covers all the birthdays I missed." Sirius pulled me along with brisk, cheerful insistence. "And I know better than anyone how much a young man sometimes needs a place of his own in this world."
I wasn't quite in shock. But I was somewhere in the vicinity.
And why? Because of yet another deranged idea from this overgrown spendthrift. No, seriously — the fact that he'd finally claimed his inheritance, officially become Lord Black, and pulled himself together enough to take his responsibilities seriously, including his own magical education, was genuinely wonderful. I meant that.
When I'd left this wizard to deal with his own affairs the previous summer, I honestly hadn't expected him to recover so thoroughly from his long imprisonment in Azkaban, or from everything else life had thrown at him. But he had. He'd sorted out his affairs. He'd even begun, however imperfectly, to fulfill his obligations as head of House Black.
The problem was that in the process, Sirius had discovered he was considerably wealthier than he'd ever imagined. A substantial portion of the family's business interests and a fair amount of the property had been siphoned away over his twelve years of imprisonment — various parties had taken their share of a House that appeared to have no heir. But the lawyers and solicitors he'd retained were already squeezing the life out of the creatures responsible, and Sirius was looking into what had happened to my inheritance as well.
In the meantime, since I couldn't access the Potter family assets until I came of age, and since I was still a minor, my godfather had decided to give me a house for my birthday.
Yes. A house. That modest, entirely unremarkable little gift that ordinary people spend their entire lives working toward, straining through hardship and sacrifice to one day obtain. Sirius was simply going to hand me one of his family's properties, just like that.
And it wasn't even for anything important or serious — it was so I would have somewhere to "relax with friends" if I ever felt like it.
The worst part was that I did want exactly that. I just hadn't been planning to invite anyone to Grimmauld Place. There was no telling what people might bring into Sirius's house. And the Black Manor wasn't safe — we still hadn't finished clearing it, still hadn't dealt with all the dark artifacts, and the Horcrux I'd found there was still sitting untouched because I simply couldn't destroy it yet.
So I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea Sirius had suggested — at least not until the moment the property he'd originally intended to give me turned out to have already been appropriated during his imprisonment, and everything else he owned struck him as unsuitable for a gift.
Which was how we ended up in Gringotts, purchasing a house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade so that I could, apparently, escape to my own home nearly every weekend and host private gatherings for my friends. Which, if I was honest, was not entirely comfortable for me.
One thing was making use of property Sirius already owned — it would cost him nothing extra, and I could quietly return it once I came into my own inheritance. In my mind that was no different from hanging out at a distant relative's empty country house while they'd gone to live somewhere else, and you were just "keeping an eye on things" in exchange for using the place. A clean arrangement, no burden to either party. I'd had plenty of friends in my previous life who'd thrown parties at their aunts' or uncles' country places, some of whom had eventually had the property signed over to them outright.
And I, in my new circumstances, had been prepared to take modest advantage of Sirius's generosity — to get a personal space where I could have invited Luna and Ginny for a few days over the summer holidays. We'd only managed a handful of walks through London, which had barely scratched the surface of what I'd actually wanted.
But there was a considerable difference between borrowing a house that already existed and nobody particularly needed, and watching Sirius squander his family's inheritance by actually purchasing me a house in Hogsmeade so I could throw parties.
Or bring girls back, which in Sirius's head was almost certainly the more realistic motive for my wanting the place.
He wasn't entirely wrong, but — I had a betrothal and a pre-marital contract with Daphna and House Greengrass. I had no legitimate claim to be bringing other girls anywhere with that kind of intention. And there was no one in my circle I was seriously inclined to look at that way, regardless of whatever hormones were doing their level best to complicate my life.
None of which mattered to Sirius. He'd already caught fire with the idea, already dragged me to see the property, and now here we were in a bank signing documents and receiving the official title deeds. A surprise gift, right before school.
"Come on, don't look so miserable, Harry. I understand how this looks, but trust me — I won't be making gifts like this for anyone else. And even without that, I couldn't squander the ancestral wealth in three lifetimes, let alone one," Sirius said, clapping me on the shoulders in what was clearly meant to be reassurance, finally picking up on my mood as we finished the last of the paperwork.
"That doesn't mean you should be spending like this at all, or dismantling your family's legacy," I said flatly. I'd accepted that changing his mind was impossible, but I hadn't made peace with the spending itself. Sirius's tendency toward extravagance genuinely bothered me.
"Maybe not. But a house in Hogsmeade will be useful for you regardless. You still haven't managed to learn that spell, after all. And with your own place, you'll have a fireplace with a clear connection to me — we can train together properly whenever we need to." He gave me that disarming grin. That insufferable wanderer.
"Ah. So that's what you actually planned," I breathed, some of the tension going out of me as I finally saw the angle I'd completely missed. All because he'd buried it under talk of parties and his thoroughly transparent insinuations. "That explains why you gave in so easily to Mrs. Agatha about the summer training. How did the Sorting Hat ever put you in Gryffindor?"
"Hey! Don't think worse of me than I deserve. I didn't invent this approach to learning. Students used to go home on weekends for extra training all the time. The school administration only closed the public fireplaces in Hogsmeade afterward," Sirius said, defending himself with mock indignation. And that, more or less, was the end of our argument.
Something in me was still reeling at the purchase this insufferable dog had registered in my name. But I understood now — I genuinely did need this. Fiendfyre still wasn't anywhere close to mastered. I'd simply run out of time for proper training.
A month at the Greengrass estate, then another two weeks coming and going to St. Mungo's — a process that still wasn't entirely complete, though I'd finally, permanently gotten rid of my glasses — and in between all of that, I'd had neither the time nor the practical opportunity to work on something as demanding as that particular branch of magic.
Besides, during whatever rare breaks the summer had offered, I'd preferred to spend them with my friends. Now that I was living with Sirius and could move relatively freely, there was simply no justification for ignoring them through the entire summer. I'd been willing to make that sacrifice for training — but I understood clearly enough that my stubbornness wouldn't have made any real difference in the end. So I hadn't given up the London walks.
I'd made peace with it months ago, honestly. Mastering Fiendfyre this summer wasn't happening — the preparation required for safely learning that spell was simply too involved. You needed to drill simpler fire-based spells first, and develop a couple of specialized shields that offered at least some protection against Fiendfyre itself. That was before the main work even started.
In short, a reliable method of destroying Horcruxes wasn't going to land in my hands before fourth year. Which was expected. And not critically urgent — just mildly unpleasant, if I was being honest.
But Sirius's latest scheme changed the picture somewhat. The money still stung. Even so, some things were worth more than money.
Like my life. Which was, once again, what was actually at stake — however much I might have preferred otherwise.
Last year had passed far too quietly, for all that I'd spent considerable effort preparing for whatever fourth year might bring. And even with that preparation — God, it was still terrifying. The Triwizard Tournament. Barty Crouch Jr. somewhere nearby. The possible return of the Dark Lord — unclear what that even looked like now without Pettigrew, who'd been kissed by a Dementor, but that didn't make the situation any less dangerous.
Though I do have some chance of dealing with Crouch before things go sideways. The question is — what happens to Voldemort then? Leave that to the older wizards again? I'm not comfortable with that. I'm still not certain anyone actually destroyed the diary Horcrux.
I grimaced internally, having spent more than a year searching for any way out of the trap that had been built around me.
And as always, everything came back to one fundamental uncertainty: what role was our great light wizard actually playing in all of this?
I simply could not believe that Albus Dumbledore — the Dumbledore from the history I knew — had genuinely failed to notice an imposter operating under Polyjuice in the guise of his old friend and trusted colleague for nearly an entire year. The castle's own protective systems should have flagged something. And Dumbledore himself had been in close regular contact with the real Moody — I'd confirmed this specifically with Sirius, knowing that Mad-Eye was one of the Headmaster's most loyal allies and perhaps one of his few genuine friends.
Or at least that was how it appeared from the outside. In reality, the old man could easily have sacrificed his friend and comrade to advance another layer of his endlessly nested schemes. I didn't know. I couldn't be certain of anything, or anyone.
And that uncertainty turned my stomach until I could taste bile.
It's fine. We'll manage. We'll manage all of it.
I let the thought settle, and felt a somewhat predatory smile work its way onto my face.
And my new relations from House Greengrass — and Sirius — will cover me if it comes to that. For instance, if this turns out to be another one of the Headmaster's long games, and someone suddenly decides I've stuck my nose where it doesn't belong and tries to Obliviate me and take the Marauder's Map.