The lift clanged as it came to a halt, marking its arrival at the most illustrious floor of the Ministry of Magic-that which housed of the offices of the Minister of Magic. Though Harry's heart was still pounding from the shock of hearing that Orion had died, he could not help but yawn again and rub his eyes as he stepped of the lift and made his way down the hall, trying to remember the last time had visited the Ministry of Magic. It was too early in the morning for that kind of mental exercise.
Harry wasn't entirely sure where the Minister's offices were housed, but he reckoned that the ostentation for which the Ministry was somewhat famous would lead him. Also of potential guidance were the paintings of former Ministers of Magic chronologically lining the hall-all asleep in their respective frames.
Harry walked down the gently curving hall and soon came within sight of approximately a dozen aurors, all stationed outside of an office that probably belonged to Cygnus Black. Just as Harry came within earshot, the door opened and a tall man with graying auburn hair exited, shutting the door behind himself. As Harry approached, he found himself face to face with the man.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"Harry Ashworth," Harry responded. "I believe I am expected."
"I am Davian Prewitt, Mr. Ashworth."
Harry nodded, recognizing the name, as he looked up into the man's hard, aged features. Vaguely, Harry compared Prewitt to the cowboys he'd seen on Dudley's television shows. Both Prewitt and some of the tougher cowboys had appeared to be made of old leather and nails. The obvious exception was that Prewitt was impeccably dressed and had a distinctive British accent. Harry hoped to never find himself at odds with Director Prewitt. "It's good to meet you Director."
"Indeed," Prewitt said. "Minister Black is, in fact, expecting you." He then walked away, leaving Harry staring at the contingent of aurors that were serving as bodyguards for the recently bereaved Minister.
Harry passed the aurors and walked into Cygnus's office. He found the Minister sitting at his desk, looking very pale. Romulus Malfoy was angrily pacing back and forth behind the desk, occasionally pausing to look out the windows and down to the atrium below.
"It's about time you arrived," Romulus growled, pausing long enough to acknowledge Harry's entrance before returning to his angry pacing routine.
Realizing that Romulus, in addition to his grief over his family affairs, was under great stress, Harry opted to not take offense at his grouchy temperament. Rather, he turned his attention to Cygnus, the bereaved brother. "So, what are the exact details?"
Cygnus sighed. "Walburga discovered that he'd passed away in his sleep early this morning. That's all there seems to be to it."
"Well that's not all there is to it!" Romulus thundered. "Orion was healthy and strong."
Harry thought back to what Professor Dumbledore had told him regarding the original rise of Lord Voldemort. There had been many deaths and disappearances prior to the dark lord's inauguration as a public figure. It was possible that Orion had died naturally-he had not been especially young-but Harry wasn't about to be on it being a coincidence.
"I think," Harry said, taking a chair and drawing the attention of Malfoy and Minister Black to him, "that we had better assume that it was foul play and conduct ourselves based on that thought. However, there is no point in dwelling on the issue. Send an auror team over to the Black house and have them investigate. If they find anything, we can pursue the assassin. If they do not, we still assume that Orion was assassinated."
Seeing that he had the attention of both Cygnus and Romulus and seeing that they were nodding in agreement, Harry continued. "We are fighting a large-scale war against a dark lord. Sadly, one of our own friends has become a casualty. We must move forward as we fight this war lest his sacrifice be in vain."
"That makes sense," Cygnus said, happy to accept Harry's simplification of the issue. "Don't you agree, Romulus?"
"He speaks well," Romulus agreed, suddenly seeming very tired and distracted.
"Moving forward," Harry said, pressing his agenda, "it would appear that we need to take a number of actions. I see that you've already increased the number of your bodyguards. That is good. I suggest you continue that practice. Have you informed Director Prewitt that you fear the possibility of assassination?"
"Yes, yes," Romulus answered. "Davian agreed to step up the guard around Cygnus."
"Good," said Harry. "Now, for the overall war. I think we need to step up the focus on putting the Ministry itself in order. I fear that the dark lord will attempt to subvert the Ministry from the inside. There are, I'm sure, many who would thrive in an environment in which the dark lord is influential, even if they themselves never become a part of his ranks. You need to make sure these people are not in positions of power."
Cygnus nodded. "Yes, of course." He pulled out a piece of parchment and started taking notes.
"You need to make sure the people that are in power are good people-the sort that don't really seek for high office," Harry advised.
"Yes," said Cygnus, dipping his quill and scratching Harry's advice onto the parchment.
"Even innocent people can become tools," Romulus chipped in, his tone of voice rather dark and depressing.
"Exactly," Harry said. "The Imperius Curse is one way that the dark lord might try to cause trouble in the Ministry. You must take steps to ensure that it does not become a problem."
"Good idea," Cygnus declared, "but how do I do that?"
Harry shrugged. "You may need to consult with multiple departments on that one. Perhaps both Magical Law Enforcement and Mysteries. Tell them to find a way to quickly check whether someone is acting of their own accord or not. They'll understand what you're getting at."
"Department of Mysteries," Cygnus mumbled, writing it down on the parchment.
Director Prewitt stalked down the hallway and into the main lobby of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was empty, so his theatrics impressed no one. He entered his office and found Alastor Moody waiting for him. The auror arose from his chair and offered his hand. Prewitt shook it and assumed his spot behind his desk.
"You asked for me to come in?" Alastor said.
"I did," Prewitt said. "Orion Black has croaked, or perhaps, has been croaked."
Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is foul play suspected?"
"By some people," Prewitt muttered.
Moody nodded. "I can see it both ways. What do you think happened?"
"I don't know," Prewitt admitted. "I don't really care, either. I'm more concerned about the consequences."
"Consequences?"
"As we speak, Minister Black is holed up with Romulus Malfoy and Harry Ashworth. You can guarantee those two are the ones calling the shots now. I imagine that Minister Black is happy that someone has already stepped into the vacancy left by his older brother," Prewitt said.
"What would you like me to do?" Moody asked. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Prewitt's scathing comments about the conniving of Malfoy and Ashworth. Prewitt himself was quite the conniver. There was also the fact that Dumbledore needed to be informed as soon as possible about the events within the Ministry and that wouldn't happen if Moody spent all morning listening to Prewitt.
Prewitt glared at Moody. "I want you to poke around into Orion's death and see if you can find any sign of foul play. Merlin knows that Minister Black will want to know. I also want you to poke your nose into the business of Romulus Malfoy and Harry Ashworth. I have it on good authority that Harry Ashworth is not an Ashworth. He is here in England on false pretenses. I warned Orion, but he apparently chose to ignore me.
"As you wish," Moody said. "If you would be so kind as to forward to my desk any information you do have about Ashworth, that would be useful." He then rose from his seat and exited the office.
"All right," said Cygnus, "I think I can handle things from this end. Romulus, please keep your ear to the ground. You're more connected to folk who are likely to know the most about the dark lord. Harry, I think you'd better plan on leaving Hogwarts for good once the term is over. I will need you here at the Ministry. Is there anything else we should address before you both leave?"
"I think we've discussed all there is to discuss," Harry said, pulling a small watch from his pocket and glancing at it. It appeared that there would be enough time for him to make his morning class. "As long as you make sure the ranking Ministry officials are clean and direct them to ensure their underlings are clean, I think you'll avoid many problems."
Romulus stood and straightened his robes. "There is one last thing that I would like to bring up. From the experience of this tragedy, it has become clear to me that we need a better way to communicate. It took me far too long to get ahold of Harry, though it was no fault of his own."
"What do you propose?" Cygnus asked.
Romulus pulled from his pocket two gold rings. The bands were wide and looked heavy. Set in the top of each ring was a black stone or perhaps jewel. "These are family heirlooms," he announced. "I've of course had them purged of dark magic. The important thing is that they are tied to my own family ring." The Malfoy patriarch held up his right hand and displayed the ring that marked him as the Head of House Malfoy. It closely resembled the two rings he had produced from his pocket. He then gave one of the rings to Cygnus and the other to Harry. "Through these rings, we can communicate, or at least, you both can communicate with me. I haven't had enough time to figure out how to get your rings to communicate with each other."
Harry accepted the ring and examined it, pushing up his glasses and bringing the ring close to his eyes. "How precious," he commented as he held it. Close inspection revealed that the jewel was not quite what it seemed. Instead of a solid, crystalline color, Harry observed what seemed to a swirling mist inside of the jewel. It seemed rather like a foe glass. Abruptly, a figure coalesced inside of the jewel-Romulus's face.
"I would communicate vocally through the jewel," Romulus told Harry, putting his hand on the young man's shoulder, "but doing so right now would make me feel silly, what with us all being in the same room."
Harry smiled, "Of course. Now, how do I communicate with you?"
"It's rather simple," Romulus said, temporarily taking the ring back from Harry as Cygnus observed closely. "Take the jewel and twist it." He demonstrated, showing that the jewel could rotate on its setting. "It will send a jolt to my ring and I'll open up communication."
"Our rings can't open up communication to yours?" Harry asked.
"I'm afraid not. The Malfoy who owned and used the rings originally didn't want the other rings to be used to spy on him. Perhaps if the system works out, we can investigate ways to improve it. For now, I think this will do for our purposes," Romulus said.
Cygnus nodded. "I like it."
Harry showed his approval by slipping the ring onto one of his fingers. "I assume I'll feel a jolt when you need to speak with me?"
Romulus nodded and tapped his ring. Almost immediately, Harry felt a small tug on his hand.
"Excellent," observed Harry. "Now, I must really return to Hogwarts. I haven't arranged for anyone to teach my classes today."
"Right," said Malfoy. He nodded to Cygnus. "I too must be going."
Harry and Romulus left Cygnus alone at his desk, exited the office, and made their way down to the elevator. While they were waiting for the lift to come and fetch them, Romulus again put his hand on Harry's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I don't want to scare you, Harry," Romulus said, "but these rings are very important-not just one of my flights of fancy. Cygnus's life could be in danger. In fact, all of our lives are in danger."
"I understand that," Harry said blandly, returning the Malfoy patriarch's gaze.
"Good," said Romulus. "Now, Harry, starting today, I want you to spend every free moment drilling on your magical fighting skills. Focus on the easiest and most potent spells you can. Develop some patterns for shooting off spells in quick succession, but don't become locked into the patterns. When you're bored, develop some more fancy spells that might be used to surprise someone in a duel. Press yourself to the limit. Understand?"
"Of course," said Harry, mentally reminding himself that he would definitely need to step things up a notch.
"Good," said Romulus. "I'm going to do some training myself. I'll see if I can't sharpen up my old dueling skills."
The Saturday morning that arrived a number days following Orion's death found Harry at his desk grading essays. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He had obeyed Romulus's advice and had spent as much time as possible after classes each day drilling in the Room of Requirement. He had required the room to do its best to simulate some of the worst battle scenes he had witnessed in the future. The room had created hundreds of practice dummies with the ability to shoot stinging spells and had set those dummies to swarming around Harry-some of them trying to target him, others fighting imaginary targets.
The sheer volume of magic Harry had used to neutralize the dummies, the focus required to pick out specific targets or enact intricate charms, and the repeated stings from dummies that had gotten through had left Harry quite exhausted. His only comfort was that he was getting better. Admittedly, dummies weren't the real thing, but the stamina required was real, and Harry's was growing.
Bellatrix had been strangely absent for most of the week. She had greeted the news of Orion's death with suspicion and a few words that Harry though could have been sadness, but had seemed too otherwise occupied to sit down and be depressed. Harry assumed that the fast-approaching end of term had burdened her. There was a month or so left before the summer holidays. Harry knew that Hermione would be well into her revisions by this time in the school year.
Interestingly, Harry had felt rather lonely without her constantly in his office or lounging on his couch. He had even gone so far as to inviting her to a practice duel in the Room of Requirement. She had seemed pleased with his new training regime, but had declined his offer, saying that she was preoccupied for the week.
Thus, when Bellatrix opened the door to his office and strode in with a medium-sized carrying case, Harry felt rather pleased. "Ready to go?" she asked, closing the door behind herself.
Harry looked at her, feeling rather puzzled. She was dressed in black robes, though they were not the standard school robes. These were decorated with black velvet. "Go where?" he asked.
Bellatrix sighed. "I was afraid of that. Aunt Walburga didn't invite you, did she?"
Harry frowned, trying to logically deduct what Bellatrix was talking about. "You mean to the funeral?"
"Yes," said Bellatrix. "Orion's funeral is today. I strongly suspected that my aunt would not invite you, but there was always hope."
Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't want to intrude anyway."
Bellatrix snickered, "I wish I had that excuse. No disrespect for Uncle Orion, but it sounds like Aunt Walburga is going to make this a family affair. I can't say I'm excited to attend. She's going to want to establish herself as the head of the Black family-the matriarch if you will. The poor man won't have a chance to settle in his grave."
Harry abandoned his essays and sat back in his chair, thinking. "Shouldn't Sirius be the one to inherit everything?"
"Normally, yes," Bellatrix said. "However, Aunt Walburga was already a Black when she married Orion. It was a clever move on her part. By marriage she became closest, Black blooded, relative Orion had. She has every right to believe that she's the head of the Black family, now."
Harry squinted suspiciously at Bellatrix. "Theoretically, I'm a head of the Black family, or Lord Black, as some would say it. You're a Black, and you're constantly talking about a marriage between the two of us. Sounds like you're a pretty clever witch yourself."
Bellatrix shrugged, maintaining an extremely casual expression. "I won't deny it, though I would like to say that's not the entire reason I want to marry you. But moving on, there's no point talking marriage until we see how things end up with regard to the affairs of the Black family. You needn't get overly worried about marriage yet."
"I'm happy that there's no pressure," Harry said. "Good luck with the funeral."
"Actually," said Bellatrix, "I was hoping you would escort me to the funeral."
"I seem to recall that I was not invited," Harry observed, glancing at his stack of essays and reminding himself of all the productive things he should be doing.
"You aren't," Bellatrix confirmed. "I would appreciate you at least taking me as far as cemetery, though. After that, I have some errands I was hoping you'd run for me. We can meet afterward for you to take me home."
Harry mulled over his options. Did he want to grade papers or get out of the castle and spend a little time with Bellatrix? A number of months ago, the answer would have been grading. Now, it seemed like Bellatrix was a better bet for enjoyment. "All right, I'll go," said Harry.
"Great," said Bellatrix. "Let's get going. I promised Sirius that you'd take him with us. He's waiting out in the hall."
"What about your sisters or Regulus?" Harry asked. His mind flashed to the times he had taught them in class. He didn't feel any close connection to those members of the Black family, but he didn't want to leave them in the cold.
Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively. "Walburga has made arrangements. Sirius and I weren't anxious to participate, so we're leaving early."
"All right," Harry said, not minding the opportunity to spend some time with his young godfather.
It didn't take long before Harry, Bellatrix, and Sirius were walking across the Hogwarts grounds and down to the main gate. Bellatrix had foisted her carrying case on Harry and was chatting amicably about a number of topics. Sirius was silent. Harry wondered whether Sirius had gotten along with his father better than his mother. Harry couldn't seem to recall Sirius saying much about his father in the future.
They reached the gates and were ready to apparate. Bellatrix gave Harry instructions so that he could side-along apparate Sirius. She would be apparating on her own. Harry vaguely wondered why it was she felt it was necessary for him to escort her to the funeral when she was perfectly capable of going herself.
They appeared in some woods, not far from what obviously was a cemetery. The cemetery appeared to be rather rundown. Though the various graves and monuments were impressive, the plant life was abundant. Instinctively, Harry scanned their surroundings for any sign of life. There was none.
"Well, here we are," Bellatrix announced, a little too brightly. "There's enough time before other folks arrive for you to find a nice hiding spot, Sirius. Have fun."
Sirius rolled his eyes and wandered off and soon completely disappeared from sight. He seemed to have understood that Bellatrix wanted to be alone with Harry. Harry felt rather guilty for not paying more attention to Sirius at his father's funeral, but Bellatrix was running the show.
"This is the ancient resting place of the Black family," Bellatrix said to Harry, making like she was being a tour guide while Sirius was still in earshot.
"Looks like you folks put effort into the upkeep," Harry commented. "Do you visit often?"
Bellatrix frowned at him. "It has fallen into decay in recent years," she admitted. She gestured through the forest beyond the graveyard. "If you look carefully, you'll be able to spot some stone walls. More like ruins, actually. That's what remains of Ravenbourgh, the ancestral Black manor."
"I never heard of Ravenbourgh," Harry said, surprised at the new information.
"Not many people have," Bellatrix said. "The Blacks have always preferred to be city dwellers, or rather, to reside near the seat of government power. Ravenbourgh was neglected in favor of Grimmauld Place. Eventually, it burned down. Had the family been in residence, it might have been saved from the flames. Being the city dwellers that we are, no effort has been made to rebuild. Because Ravenbourgh no longer stands, there is no longer a staff of house elves to visit occasionally. Consequently, there is no one to maintain the graveyard."
Harry shrugged. "Whatever."
"I thought you wanted to know why we neglect the graveyard."
"I'm more interested in hearing what these errands you have for me are," Harry said.
"What? Do you think they are nefarious or something?"
"Well, I don't know," said Harry. "It is you."
"Ha, ha," Bellatrix said. She pointed at the carrying case Harry had been drafted into carrying for her. "You're going to take the contents of the case and sell them to the apothecary in Knockturn Alley."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "You've been down in the Chamber of Secrets, haven't you? That's why you've been busy all week."
"Yes," Bellatrix said. "Harvesting that monster's venom wasn't so hard, but getting the skin and guts has been impossible. It's going to take months to get it all. Seeing as I'm the one going through all the misery of harvesting it, I think we should split the money 70/30.
"You seem to forget that you would have never known the basilisk existed without me," Harry grumbled.
"60/40?" Bellatrix proposed.
"50/50," Harry said. "You're the one always talking about us being fair partners, and let's not forget your plans for our marriage. If we do get married, won't the split be irrelevant?"
"Well, I don't know," Bellatrix shot back, "are you going to marry me or not?"
"Let's worry about that later," Harry said, hefting the case and preparing to apparate to Knockturn Alley.
"Fine," said Bellatrix, "50/50."
"Good," said Harry.
"One last thing," Bellatrix said before Harry could apparate away.
"What?"
She held up a Gringotts key. "Deposit my share into my bank account, please. While you're at it, why don't you open up an account of your own? It is a simple process. You can't keep hiding your gold in your trunk. Either you'll run out of room or someone will steal it."
"How do you know I keep my gold in my trunk?" Harry demanded, accepting the key from Bellatrix.
Bellatrix smiled mischievously and waved goodbye. "Have fun. Wait for me at that Muggle bookstore across the street from the Leaky Cauldron. The funeral and family formalities should last for about two hours, maybe more."
The clerk at Knockturn Alley's apothecary ultimately tried to take the basilisk venom and skin off of Harry's hands for far less than the actual worth. Luckily, Harry had stopped at the apothecary in Diagon Alley and had inquired after the price of said ingredients as if he himself was a potential buyer. The manager had apprised Harry of the current selling price of basilisk parts. From there Harry had gone onto Knockturn Alley, and, after some slippery bargaining, had sold the contents of Bellatrix's case for slightly less than market value, leaving a tidy, albeit deserved, profit margin for the apothecary. They, after all, didn't ask Harry where he had come across the items he was selling.
He then carried the hefty bag of gold into Diagon Alley and toward Gringotts. As usual, the goblins that guarded the front door left Harry alone and he passed inside. Harry had not had many opportunities to visit Gringotts in either the future or the past. He admired the interior architecture as he waited in line to see a teller and wondered if the goblins did their own building or had hired some other magical creature. Harry couldn't imagine them hiring witches or wizards if they didn't have to.
It was soon Harry's turn to see a teller. He stepped up to the window. "Good morning," he said, feeling a little nervous.
The goblin arched what passed as an eyebrow, "What is it you want?"
Harry set the bag of gold on the counter and held out Bellatrix's vault key. "I need to deposit half of this money into this account."
The goblin stared at Harry for a moment, but finally hefted the bag before placing it on a scale. Noting the bag's exact weight, the goblin wrote the key number and monetary amount on a small piece of parchment that Harry supposed was a deposit slip and then signed it. "And the other half of the money?" the goblin asked.
Harry fidgeted, wondering what the goblin would do if he requested that the bag be divided so he could walk out of the bank with it. Eventually, he decided that the goblin would be more than annoyed. There was also the truth that Bellatrix's advice was sage. "I'd like to deposit the second half into a new account," Harry declared.
The goblin said nothing, but wrote out another parchment deposit slip and handed it to Harry. "Speak with the goblin at the new accounts desk," he said.
Harry accepted the parchment and nodded to the goblin as respectfully as he could. "Thank you, sir. You've been most helpful."
The goblin was preoccupied with taking the bag and dropping it into a mine cart, and thus did not respond.
Harry wandered over to the new accounts desk, holding his deposit slip. A goblin sat behind it, reading a newspaper. Apparently, the bank did not see a large number of new accounts on a daily basis. Either that, or Saturday was just a slow day for the bank. Harry cleared his throat. "I'd like to open an account," he said.
The goblin sighed from behind the newspaper, set it down, and gave Harry a fake smile. "What would you like to deposit?"
Harry handed the deposit slip to the goblin.
The goblin examined it minutely as if he suspected it was a forgery, which Harry thought was rather ridiculous. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen his fellow goblin fill out for Harry only moments prior. "Very well. How much money do you anticipate holding in your account from day to day?"
"Probably about that much," Harry replied, taking into account the fact that he generally spent most of his salary on a regular basis. On the other hand, he was going to be working for the Ministry soon. "Maybe a little more."
"Any non-monetary possessions?"
"No."
"Very well. We'll need a blood sample," the goblin announced.
Having expected this, Harry held out a finger. The goblin was deft and soon had a sample of Harry's blood on a special parchment. The blood sank in and writing appeared. The goblin read the writing and then squinted at Harry, clearly not pleased. "If you'll excuse me, I must speak with the bank manager." He then stood up and stiffly walked away from the desk and down a corridor, carrying the blood parchment and Harry's deposit slip.
Harry sighed, wondering if opening an account was this difficult as a rule. The goblin soon returned with another two goblins. "These two goblins will escort you to visit with Goldspear, our bank manager," he announced.
"Right," said Harry, standing and allowing himself to be escorted down the same hall the new account goblin had disappeared into.
Harry was soon shown into the bank manager's office. The goblin Harry assumed to be Goldspear was sitting at very large, but low desk in a chair with an extremely high back. Harry would have found the sight comical if it weren't for the look of sheer anger on the goblin's face.
"Leave us," he snapped to the goblins that had escorted Harry in. As soon as they had disappeared behind closing doors, Goldspear the goblin snapped at Harry. "Sit." In front of him were the two pieces of parchment, though he was not looking at them.
Harry was confused and nervous, but he tried to make the best of the situation as he took a seat. "Good morning," he said.
"You think you're funny, do you?" Goldspear snapped.
"I'm sorry," said Harry, "but you'll have to explain why you're angry with me." Deep down, a suspicion was growing, however. The blood test must have told them more than he had expected.
The goblin clenched his teeth and then closed his eyes for ten seconds. When he opened them, he was still glaring, but his voice was eerily calm. "I am angry about the facts that you are the head of House Black, that you have travelled from the future, and that you have wandered around this time period without checking in with us. Do you have any idea how much trouble you have just caused us?"
"I'm sorry," said Harry. "The time travel was an accident, and I didn't know that it was correct procedure to check in with Gringotts in such a situation. How did you know I was from the future?"
Goldspear rolled his eyes. "If you were a Lord Black in the past, nobody would have inherited the title after your disappearance into time. Thus, the only way for there to be, or rather, have been, two Lord Blacks is if one came from the future."
"Oh. So what do we do now?"
"Well, I don't know, Lord Black. Had you come in earlier, we might have found a way to resolve it easily and at our leisure. As it is, I have the entire Black family coming in shortly to hear the last will and testament of Orion Black. Your existence renders the will null and void."
"Okay," said Harry thinking of the Black family. "Is there a way we can keep my being the head of House Black private?"
The bank manager scowled at him. "On such short notice, it would be difficult."
"I guess we could surprise them," Harry said.
"Yeah? And reveal to them that you're a time traveler? You seem to forget that one of the Blacks happens to be Minister of Magic. If anyone discovers your little time travel faux pas, you'll be in deep trouble. There's also the fact that many of the Blacks are murderers. How long do you think you would last?"
"I'm surprised you care," Harry grumbled.
The goblin shrugged. "It would be troublesome for us, too."
"So what do you suggest?" Harry said, his thoughts racing about he could best cope with the situation.
The goblin sat back in his chair and steepled his stubby fingers. Abruptly, he separated his hands and jabbed a button on his desk. The doors opened, and a goblin peeked in. "Fetch me the Black account file," the bank manager commanded.
He then gazed at Harry as the other goblin retreated. "I suggest that you outline a new last will and testament for Orion Black. We'll compose it into formal language and read it to the Black heirs when they arrive. When the topic of control of House Black comes up, we'll declare that we cannot move forward on putting a new person in power for a while. When Orion's widow inquires later, we'll inform her that the control of House Black was bequeathed to another. End of story. After that, you'll probably want to hire bodyguards, though we will try to prevent her from discovering your identity."
"You're too kind," Harry said.
"Indeed," said the goblin. He produced a blank parchment, quill, and ink from a desk drawer and then pushed them across the desk toward Harry. "Start bequeathing."
"I don't even know what the Black family assets are," Harry complained.
The door opened and admitted the goblin that had been sent to fetch the file. The bank manager accepted it and quickly thumbed through it, outlining the financial status of the Black family for Harry. The liquid assets, property assets, and investments were quickly reviewed. Harry was surprised at the wealth of the Black family. What he had originally inherited from Sirius had not been nearly so much.
Harry took the quill and scratched out a few brief directions and then handed the parchment over to the bank manager. Goldspear accepted the parchment and examined it critically. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but you have to leave something for the widow or she will have grounds to challenge the will-not that it is a will, but I assume you don't want anyone digging into what has happened."
"Whoops," said Harry, taking the parchment back. He stared at it for several moments, reluctant to give Walburga Black much of anything. "How much do I have to give her?"
"I advise something above the official poverty level."
"What is the poverty level?" Harry asked.
The bank manager cited the current poverty level.
"That's not very much," Harry sighed, his tendency to be noble suddenly coming into play. "Let's give her double the poverty level."
"Fine," said Goldspear.
"Is that all?" Harry asked.
"Yes," said Goldthirst. "I don't want to deal with your account any more than I have to. Come back some other time. Your account manager will assist you in reviewing your assets and give you advice for your investments."
"Right," said Harry, trying to sound thankful. "One last question. Is there going to be trouble with the Potter estate?"
The goblin shook his head. "No. They're not stupid enough to manage their money in the same way the ancient houses do. You can't touch their money."
Harry shrugged. "Okay. I was just curious."
Harry was thumbing through a book when the bell on the Muggle bookshop's door tinkled, signaling the entrance of another customer. He looked up and found Bellatrix walking toward him, a bright smile on her face. The black mourning dress was gone, replaced by some Muggle-style clothes.
"You look awfully cheerful for someone who just got out of a funeral," Harry said drily.
"There was a stop at the bank," Bellatrix said, still beaming a radiant smile. "My dear, departed Uncle Orion bequeathed ten thousand galleons to me."
"How kind of him," Harry said, placing the book he had been examining back on the shelf.
Bellatrix laughed. "You should have seen Aunt Walburga's outrage, Harry. You did well, very well."
"What do you mean?"
"It was you, Harry. You now have control of the Black fortune, don't you?"
Harry frowned and motioned for her to follow him out of the store. They were soon standing out on the London street in across from the Leaky Cauldron. "You deliberately sent me to the bank for that purpose, didn't you?" he said in an accusatory voice.
"You can't complain," said Bellatrix, still sounding very pleased with herself. "We're rich, Harry!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so. How did the rest of the family react? Is there going to be any trouble? The goblins weren't happy with the situation."
Bellatrix grinned. "Well, Aunt Walburga isn't as rich as she had previously anticipated. In fact, for the first time, my mother will have more spending money. That should change family dynamics. On the other hand, you did leave a monthly allowance for Sirius and Regulus. She may try to seize control of that."
"Not good," Harry said. "I guess I'll have to speak with the bank about that."
"Sirius can take care of himself," Bellatrix said. "As for Regulus, if he's stupid enough to let Walburga at his allowance, he deserves to be poor."
Harry shook his head, smiling.
"The family was very suspicious about Orion bequeathing me ten thousand galleons and then only a nominal amount for my sisters and parents in a lump sum," Bellatrix commented. She then grew a little more serious. "There is one thing I am curious about, Harry."
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"You gave Walburga the right to reside at Grimmauld Place and then specified that her death, Sirius was to inherit it. That's the family home. Why didn't you find a way to keep it for us?" Bellatrix asked.
"I'm sorry," Harry said. He sighed, wondering how much to tell her. "Suffice it to say, I have unpleasant memories of Grimmauld Place. I'd rather avoid it. I'm sure we can find a better place to live in the future."
Bellatrix shrugged. "All right."
"Shall we get back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Where is Sirius?"
"I already dropped him back at the castle gate," Bellatrix said.
"You could have saved yourself a trip and picked me up first," Harry observed.
Bellatrix smiled and wrapped her arms around Harry. She then kissed him firmly, before pulling back. "I don't want to go back to the castle yet, Harry. I want to go eat at the fanciest Muggle restaurant in London," she declared. "Then, I want to go shopping."
Harry laughed weakly. "All right."
Harry rose from his seat in the Great Hall and departed from dinner, nodding to the various students with which he was more closely acquainted. It had about a week and a half since Harry had assumed control of the Black estate and had then spent the rest of the day splurging on food, shopping, and entertainment in London with Bellatrix, courtesy of a Gringotts credit card ascribed as belonging to the Bank of Lower London.
He was preparing to return to his office and finish grading essays when he felt the ring on his finger twitch. Harry moved quickly to an obscure alcove and brought the ring close to his eye. Romulus's face was in it. "Romulus?" he said quietly.
"The dark lord has conducted a raid in a Scottish town," Romulus said resignedly. "Wizards and witches dressed and masked in black commenced terrorizing both magical and non-magical folk in the town about twenty minutes ago. Cygnus has dispatched the balance of the Ministry's aurors. We think it might be good if you could nip up there and investigate. The bulk of the battle will be over by now."
Harry nodded sadly. It seemed that Voldemort was beginning his campaign in earnest. "I'll go," he said.
"Good," said Romulus. "Try to see what you can learn. You're fairly observant. The auror in charge is Alastor Moody. You should probably check in with him before you start wandering around the town. The last thing you need is to get hit by friendly spellfire." Romulus then gave him the directions to the village.
It took Harry several minutes to make it to the front gate from where he could apparate to the town. When he arrived, there were a number of people swarming around: aurors, Ministry officials, mediwizards and mediwitches, and residents. It appeared that the attack had completely dispersed.
"Mr. Ashworth, what brings you here?"
Harry spun around and spotted Alastor Moody eying him with suspicion.
"The Minister thought it might be good for me to have a look around," Harry said.
"Really," Moody said.
"You can take it up with him if you want, Mr. Moody," Harry said.
Moody shook his head slightly, indicating he wasn't about to take it that far, though a twisted smile indicated he was going to continue being suspicious of Harry. "Let me show you around, then. You can tell the Minister all about the situation."
"Thank you," said Harry, placing a slightly sarcastic inflection into his voice, despite his gratitude for Moody volunteering to show him around.
Moody led Harry through the crowds, occasionally pointing out where some especially bad damage had been inflicted and telling Harry about various injuries that had been sustained. To Harry's somewhat practiced eye, it appeared the tactics employed by the Death Eaters were sporadic at best.
Moody seemed to have made the same observation. "The culprits dispersed almost as soon as Ministry reinforcements appeared," he told Harry. "I'm not sure what the dark lord was hoping to accomplish."
Harry frowned, wondering if Moody was officially supposed to know about the dark lord. "Dark lord?" Harry asked.
Realizing his mistake, Moody could only glare at Harry. He had too much dignity to try and cover up his slip ineffectually, so he continued pushed forward. "Don't try to snow me, Ashworth. I know you know, and as you can see, I know more than you would think. You tell Minister Black that this dark lord is a sly one. If Black wants to prevail, he had better attempt to get into the dark lord's mind. Bulking up the auror corps is good, but I don't think it will win the day."
Harry shrugged. "I'll of course relay your message to the Minister."
"See that you do," Moody growled.
"Mr. Ashworth," came another voice.
Harry turned his head and caught sight of Director Prewitt approaching. "Good evening, Director."
"It's anything but," Prewitt retorted, looking and sounding very crotchety.
"Of course," said Harry. "I only meant to greet you."
"Indeed," said Prewitt. "Do you have official business here?"
Harry pursed his lips. He could push the thought that he was here observing for Cygnus, but he didn't think that would go over very well. He had already seen all he needed, courtesy of Moody, and didn't want to create any unnecessary friction. "My business is concluded," said Harry.
"Then please vacate the area," Prewitt directed.
"As you wish," Harry said, nodding politely.