Even after such bloodletting, Arcturus felt a slight weakness and a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. He thought that for summoning a higher spirit, a sorcerer needed to be not only magically strong but also quite full-blooded.
"Winky, I need breakfast, and quickly," he told the house elf. "Kreacher will show you where the kitchen is."
"Winky already knows," she squeaked cheerfully. "Winky is now a Black family elf, Winky sees the master's house."
She Apparated away, and Arcturus was left with Kreacher, who had already cleaned the hall of the ritual's traces. He had no close human companions left, but he did have two elves. It seemed reasonable to quickly learn everything related to them.
"Kreacher, leave the book with house elf rituals in the study. I'll read it. And gather for me books, manuscripts, reports, documents, whatever you have—everything I should know as the heir of the Black family. And now, show me how to access the secret chambers of the house without your help."
Kreacher showed him where the hidden passages were and how to open them. Afterward, he went to gather the requested materials, while Arcturus headed to the kitchen, where Winky had already prepared a salad, hot coffee, and a couple of meat sandwiches. He felt lonely and asked Winky to stay with him while he ate. The food was delicious, and he ate with pleasure, at the same time asking the house elf about her skills. It turned out Winky had been the only house elf in the Crouch household for a long time and knew a bit of everything.
Arcturus had been the owner of the Black family mansion for almost two years but never felt like it. He had been glad when Dumbledore asked permission to continue using the mansion for the Order of the Phoenix, and happy when the Weasley brood moved in and took over. He had positioned himself as an outsider, only marginally involved. But now, he had to admit that all this time, he had been ashamed of even the slightest hint of his wealth, ashamed to surpass the band of paupers that had latched onto him, and did everything he could to show that he was just as poor as they were, thus earning his place among them as an equal. Suddenly, Arcturus realized that even if he forgot about his material superiority, they never would.
Today, for the first time, he felt this mansion was his. These thick walls, these gloomy rooms, these ancient corridors belonged to him and only him. Arcturus began to be troubled by the disorder in the house, feeling a need to take inventory of the household items and ensure their care. It became important for him to know how much money he had, where it was being spent, and whether it was coming in at all. He became genuinely curious about how the mansion was supplied and made a note to ask Kreacher about it. He could have started asking two years ago.
After breakfast, Arcturus and Winky toured the entire mansion, ordering the expulsion of pests and cleaning of the place. They laundered and stored away the filthy bedding from the former Weasley bedrooms, tossed out piles of empty bottles from the bar, cleaned the bedroom of Sirius Black's mother, which had been trashed by a hippogriff, and sorted through the junk in the cupboards and cabinets. With Winky busily engaged in housekeeping, Arcturus was left with a satisfying sense of a job well done.
It could have been worse, much worse. Given the banking problems Arcturus was facing due to the Gringotts robbery, he could have ended up on the streets without a Knut to his name. Now, he had a place to live and means to live on, and acquaintances could always be made later. From now on, he would be more selective with them, knowing that love from strangers was often the domain of con artists, exploiters, and manipulators.
It was even a good thing he was no longer Harry Potter. He had never wanted the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived, and now it wouldn't follow him. No one would recognize him on the streets, bother him with nonsense, or gawk at his scar, which had, by the way, disappeared completely. Wait, who had even seen his new appearance?
Knowing Dumbledore's habit of keeping secrets until the very last moment, Arcturus had no doubt that the old scoundrel hadn't shown his new look to anyone. The boy was supposed to wake up, get his brainwashed instructions, and only then be presented to the old man's allies. Even the old man himself hadn't fully seen him; he had only seen him asleep and relaxed. This meant that no one knew what Arcturus looked like, and for a while, at least, he could roam freely without worry.
And that was not just good—it was excellent.
But for now, Arcturus had no desire to go outside. He wanted to lay low, rest, and recover from the recent onslaught of events. Besides, he needed to deal with the management of the Black family estate.
Arcturus went down to the study and began studying the documents and business records Kreacher had prepared. Two hours later, with the help of the house elf, he discovered that the Black family was still wealthy despite the misfortunes that had befallen them. Sirius had nearly depleted all available funds, but the main capital of the family had been inaccessible to him. The Blacks' investments in several thriving enterprises in Britain and Europe were generating a healthy annual income, a small portion of which went to household maintenance. Over the two years since Sirius's supposed death, a decent sum had accumulated in the family account.
"I suggest you subscribe to the Daily Prophet, Master," Kreacher said when they finished reviewing the financial reports.
"That gossip rag?!" Arcturus snapped, having at least a jaw's worth of disdain for the vile newspaper.
"Master, they print gossip to boost sales. But besides that, they report all the important news in Britain. Or have you never glanced at those pages, Master?"
Arcturus stared suspiciously at the house elf, searching for the expected "Gotcha!" in his expression, but Kreacher's grayish face remained impassive. At the thought of what a six-hundred-year-old being might think of an ignorant teenage boy, his cheeks flushed.
"Of course, subscribe, Kreacher. And we need to stock up on groceries, too. There's little left."
"Master, there's almost no cash in the house, and all the Black family accounts in Gringotts were frozen after you and your friends robbed the bank."
Arcturus recalled overhearing the same topic at a meeting.
"And what should we do now?" he asked, disheartened.
"Nothing, Master. You're not the only one interested in unfreezing the Black accounts, so I recommend you wait. When they removed the concealment spell on your appearance, your name was automatically updated in Gringotts' contracts with the Blacks, but that's a banking secret. The Potters don't know, and they won't find out until the accounts are unfrozen. You can do that yourself, but the goblins don't care whom they charge the losses to, Master."
That was a pretty good revenge, and Arcturus smirked slyly.
"For now, you can sell one of the artifacts, Master," Kreacher continued. "I'll give you a focusing artifact, essential for many rituals and desirable for the rest. It's worth a lot, and you have plenty of them."
"But I have no idea how to sell anything!"
"Kreacher will explain everything, Master."
Around noon, Kreacher took Arcturus directly to Knockturn Alley, to the shop of Borgin and Burkes. The shop was empty except for the owner, and Arcturus offered him the artifact.
"How much do you want for it, young man?"
"Five thousand Galleons."
"Are you mad, young man? Its fair price is six hundred Galleons!"
"I'm just a middleman, sir, and I happened to visit your shop first. We have nothing to discuss unless you name a reasonable price."
They began haggling. Arcturus would have given up long ago had he not trusted Kreacher's judgment that three thousand Galleons was the minimum fair price for the artifact. Finally, he got his three thousand, turned the corner, and summoned Kreacher, who took him back. Feeling accomplished, Arcturus handed the money to the house elf, but did not return to his stack of books.
He remembered that not long ago, he had possessed two more artifacts—the Invisibility Cloak and the Resurrection Stone. The Invisibility Cloak, as always, had been left lying around like a rag, forgotten where he had sat—in the Shrieking Shack, still lying there behind the crates, if no one had picked it up yet. And the Resurrection Stone he had thrown into the clearing of the Acromantulas after talking with his parents' ghosts.
Foolish, just foolish—was that how one disposed of artifacts? At seventeen, he had acted like a five-year-old hiding a broken toy under the bed, hoping his mother wouldn't find it. By the way, where had those ghosts come from if the Potters were alive and weren't his parents? And why had the cracked stone worked?
This time, Arcturus didn't ask for Kreacher's help. Focusing on the setting of the Shrieking Shack, he Apparated there himself. The Cloak was still behind the crates; no one had thought to look for it. So what if it was the Potters' heirloom—what was theirs was now his. Dumbledore hadn't hesitated either.
Donning the Invisibility Cloak, Arcturus went to the Forbidden Forest to the Acromantula clearing.
"Accio Resurrection Stone!" and the stone flew directly into his hand. Good thing he had remembered in time.
Arcturus Apparated back and showed the artifact to Kreacher. The house elf waved his hand over the stone and reported that a powerful illusion had been cast on it. And that it could be removed if the Master wished.
The Master did wish, and the illusion was dispelled. The Resurrection Stone went into the Black family treasury in all its original glory.
Having dealt with two of the Deathly Hallows, Arcturus remembered the third. He had seen the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's hand yesterday—it too needed to be reclaimed.