1,489Of presents and vows
Harry awoke wearing an amused expression. The dream he had had was closer to a memory than imagination, but it was a dear, if slightly embarrassing, one. It was his recollection of the very first evening lesson he had ever had with Arcturus. He was somewhat ashamed in hindsight: the six-year-old Harry had been insecure and vulnerable; not to mention hasty and boisterous.
~BLHD~
'Alright, Harry,' Arcturus had said, a kind expression on his face. 'I know this must be irritating to you, but I wish to get to know you better. As I know you must be having trouble coming to terms with all of this, I offer that you may ask whatever you wish. About me or my family, which, as it were, is now your family as well. So,' he finished lightly, 'ask away, young man.'
Harry had been very reluctant; all the recent changes to his life had left him quite irritated. 'Why do you always frown in public, Uncle Arcturus?'
To his great surprise, Arcturus had laughed softly. 'We do not wear our emotions on our sleeves in public, Harry. It is a show of great intimacy to be as open as we wish. This is mostly reserved for family and very close friends.'
'What is intimacy?' Harry had asked.
'Ah! Well, intimacy is the contentment you feel in a close relationship with your friends or family, for example.' Arcturus had smirked slightly. 'Among other things.'
Harry had not understood but had begun to comprehend that he could indeed ask whatever he wanted. While he did not really dislike this peculiar uncle of his (though he had been encouraged to call him grandfather) he was still slightly annoyed about this whole mess that was his childhood. Mostly to annoy his counterpart and to check out the boundaries set for him, he had tried to upset Arcturus.
'Why do you sometimes speak so strangely?'
'The art of words is the art of mankind, Harry.' That had been the altogether unsatisfactory answer he had received and not understood.
'What?'
'In broad terms, Harry, I mean talking is not only a means. It is as much art as it is war. It most certainly is a game if you want it to be.'
'A game?' Harry had wondered.
'Certainly. As an example, if I wanted to avoid your questions, I could easily answer you all day without lying, but still refrain from stating what you perceive as the truth.'
'That is so strange.' Harry had been beginning to feel a bit angry. These personal questions did not yield the expected result, so he had tried to be more aggressive with his approach to unnerving Arcturus.
'Why am I here?'
'Because I would like you to live with me.'
The simple and honest answer had caught him slightly off-guard and deflated his temper ever so slightly. 'Where is Sirius?'
For the first time, a pained expression had been clearly visible on Arcturus' face. 'He will be gone for a while. Do not worry, he will be back – in some years to come.'
'Yes, you said so, but where is he?' He had not wanted to yield so easily.
'On an island quite far from here. He will not be able to leave for quite some time.'
Even to Harry, it had been obvious that this train of thought would only bring pain to both of them, so he relented. After thinking for a while and reverting to his original plan of punishing the old man, though unsure for what exactly, he had had an idea.
'How old are you? You look ancient, old man.'
Arcturus' eyes had danced merrily. At that point, Harry somehow had gotten the idea that this feeble geezer must have been on to him. Impossible, right?
'Why, thank you, young man. I am 84 years of age.'
Since the old man had not risen to Harry's bait, he had tried to find a truly uncomfortable topic. Something to truly shatter his opponent's defences. His very young brain had come up with something that would have embarrassed himself very much. 'How many girls have you kissed?' he had demanded, sure of his triumph.
The old man had given a surprisingly hearty laugh. 'My very own wife Melania of course,' he added a slight pause, resuming shortly afterwards, looking smug and strangely lively, 'and some dozen more, I venture.'
Harry had looked in awe at the old man before him and had grudgingly conceded defeat. He had some honest questions anyway. 'Will I be able to learn magic? Will someone teach me? Is there something to read here? Where are we anyway? What is the name of that house elf who tries to be sneaky about eyeballing me, and why does he do that?'
Arcturus' smile had grown even more. But he had not immediately commented. As if remembering something, he had kept still for a moment, but shortly thereafter he had looked at Harry and started answering.
'Yes, you will most certainly be able to learn magic, Harry. You are as much a wizard as I am, and I see no reason why we should not start your education a bit early if you are truly interested. We will only be doing what I deem safe and worth knowing, though. Some things are better left till later and others better discussed at school, lest you spend some boring and cold years in Scotland. I shall, therefore, teach you maybe twice a week about magic. On the other hand, I would very much like to impart knowledge of a broader kind every other day of the week - if you find yourself agreeable?'
He had given him a questioning look that Harry had answered with a nod, keen on the opportunity to learn something more useful - finally.
'Very good. I think you might find this old man an adequate teacher. In your free time, you may also have a look at the library, though I would like to be present for the first few of those library sessions if you have an interest in such things. There are certain rules for you, for everyone of this household for that matter, to heed.'
Harry's eyes had shone brightly at the prospect of a private library. Though he had not expected much, he would at least have a good look.
Arcturus seemed to have read his thoughts again, as he then had added, 'I think you may find yourself not overly disappointed. I am told our library in total is the second most extensive private collection of magical tomes in Britain.'
Harry had realised that Arcturus seemed quite pleased about that as well. If the old man loved books, maybe this would not be so bad.
'As to your other questions, we are currently in London, Grimmauld Place. This is one of our more modest lodgings, though there may still be some places to explore for an adventurous young man and – I feel compelled to say – there will be some places to best stay away from, for now at least. And, as for your last question,' he had snapped his fingers and called in a sterner, louder voice, 'Cranky! Kreacher! Minnie!' To Harry's surprise, two nervous-looking house elves and one very old but calm house elf had popped up before them. He had suddenly remembered the blue eyes that shone with a strange sense of confidence for an elf.
'It's you!' He had jumped and pointed an accusatory finger at the old creature. 'You were snooping around my room.'
'Indeed Cranky has, sir. We are to take care of your wishes, sir, and Cranky was worried you may have trouble fitting in. Cranky did not wish to cause distress. It is not necessary for Master Harry to continue pointing his finger at old, sneaky Cranky.' With a smug look, the elf had added, 'Or to keep gawking at a poor old elf.'
Harry had shot a bewildered look at Arcturus after closing his mouth. He had had some experience with house elves of course, yet the casual attitude of this one seemed somewhat distressing to him.
Arcturus had grinned slightly and explained, 'Ah yes, Cranky may be one of a kind. But you may rest assured; he does as he is told. And I do not think I have ever had reason to complain about his work.'
Cranky had turned towards Arcturus, his smug look still in place. The other elves, on the other hand, had seemed unable to settle on either reverence or outrage, but this had not deterred Cranky.
'Master is too kind. If only Cranky could truthfully return the compliment, he would gladly do so. Sadly, Cranky seems to remember the episodes of youthful trouble good Master Arcturus always so abundantly seemed to find himself in when he was younger.'
For the first time, the expression of benign serenity had broken on Arcturus' face, and Harry had immediately decided that he rather liked this old elf. Or at least would not like the consequences of failing to befriend him.
~BLHD~
Still chuckling about those days, Harry got up and started dressing casually, or at least what passed for casually in the Black household. While his cousins often complained (and some even preferred Muggle attire), he himself did not mind in the slightest. There was simple finesse in these things and much more than met the eye at first glance. He deeply appreciated the austere look. One of his cousins – she – had once asked him why he always dressed as if he had some kind of formal meeting. He had only shrugged and tried to explain that he preferred the seemingly modest style of robes to muggle clothing. Hinting always won over swanking in his books.
Once Harry was dressed, Cranky opened the door and presented himself with a low bow. 'Master Harry looks very spiffing today. May Cranky offer his congratulations?'
'Thanks, Cranky.' Harry smiled. He had never once met a house elf odder than Cranky. He was fiercely independent, yet loyal to the extreme. This was made very clear to Harry when he had seen Cranky get into a shouting match with a guest of the house a few years ago. That person had somehow offended the family in Cranky's eyes, and the elf did not relent until a slightly amused Arcturus had made him escort the guest to the door. That person, some Bullstrode if Harry remembered correctly, was completely baffled that an elf had the nerve to shout down a wizard and even to threaten him, but was perhaps even more offended that Arcturus had actually chosen to believe the elf over his own words.
Vaguely, he remembered that one of his first orders to Cranky had been to smuggle some protected books out of the library for him when he was six. To this day, Cranky somehow had evaded answering Arcturus' questions regarding his complicity in these events.
Harry made his way down the stairs and was pleased that most portraits of the household seemed eager to offer their felicitations to their young scion. Some of them had initially been rather reluctant to treat him as family but – over time – had come around. It would have been very hard to find a child his age that was more interested in old wizarding customs and family history anyway. There was not a single portrait in the house of which Harry could not rave about for at least half an hour.
He entered the small dining room and found it empty. Perplexed, he turned around and found Cranky pointing in the direction of the official dining hall, which could easily seat 40 people. Slightly nervous, he made his way towards the heavily decorated door and slowly turned the knob. The room was flooded with light and the long table was thankfully only set for two. At least two dozen parcels and cards floated a few inches above the heavy wooden piece of art. He slowly made his way towards the table, very much aware how his shoes echoed on the parquet. With a gentle smile, he beheld the mass of well-wishes and gifts. He took the card that was attached to the biggest parcel, which was about five feet tall, and recognised an altogether too familiar handwriting:
'Happy birthday, Harry. I'm slightly miffed that you want to have "quiet celebrations" away from your dear family and me, but I shall settle for taking up all your time at Hogwarts and inviting you over for two weeks next summer when you shall have the honour of celebrating mine. And don't you dare shut yourself away all the time to snuggle with your wand again. Thus, I shall graciously await your affirmation, and don't even think to be smart with me, dearest cousin of mine. Uncle Arcturus knows and has, after some very kind persuasion from me, reassured me that nothing is or will be planned at that time for you. See you at Hogwarts. Much love – D.'
Involuntarily, Harry grinned. Why does she still call him Uncle Arcturus after all those years?
He had not heard Arcturus enter the room, but as he finished reading, he found his grandfather standing beside him. 'She is indeed very persuasive. I fear you may have no chance to evade her next summer, Harry. I had the distinct impression she and her sister may try to hex me, were I to refuse letting you go.'
Harry looked dejected, but could not quite disagree that this was a definite possibility. His grandfather, however, embraced Harry and ruffled his hair in a rare show of open affection.
'Happy fourteenth birthday, Harry. I hope you will have a good day. But before you have to open the probably slightly embarrassing presents your family has bestowed upon you, how about we sit down and have a look what Cranky has cooked up for you this morning? I know for a fact that he had Kreacher and Minnie working till late last night so that everything would be to your utmost satisfaction. I would be very much surprised if you miss out on even one of your favourites today.'
Cranky, who was hovering by the door, looked slightly cross. 'There is no way that Cranky missed any of Master Harry's favourite dishes today, Master Arcturus. Cranky has taken the utmost care to study Master Harry's eating habits. And in fact, Master Arcturus, Cranky had Kreacher working till one hour ago, until Kreacher had finally finished the cakes in a presentable manner, for once.'
Harry shuddered slightly and was very happy not to be a house elf under Cranky's iron regime, but smiled guiltily at the old elf nonetheless. Cranky bowed deeply and smirked back.
Breakfast was a feast, for eyes and stomach. Seldom had he been so impressed, not only with the dishes themselves but even more so with their presentation. That being said, he was not exactly surprised; Cranky doted on him very much indeed. His grandfather wore a look of amused distress as Minnie popped into being behind his grandson, obviously instructed to take care of whatever wish he had. Harry was entertained himself; his cup did not contain the usual pumpkin juice but as spiked with butterbeer.
After their ample repast, Harry started opening his presents. To his deep embarrassment, he found the large package of hers containing a four-and-a-half foot tall picture of himself with her and her sister. Even his counterpart seemed eager to escape the frame, but the sisters were all too happy to hold him very close indeed. His grandfather smiled but did, thank Merlin, not comment. Apart from the big picture, which Arcturus shrank into a more presentable yet still intimidating size, he received several books that he inspected at once with glowing enthusiasm: a classy silver pocket watch adorned with emeralds; an elegant red quill, which Harry disbelievingly identified as a phoenix feather; a small automatically refilling workstation to mix your own ink colour; and, for some inexplicable reason, a very large and very deadly looking bushwhacker.
'Ah! Have a look, Master Harry! Someone seems to have picked up on your problems with the other sex,' offered Cranky. Harry flinched and shot a pleading look at the elf, who smiled and took the cutlass. 'Maybe Cranky shall rather put this away safely? Maybe on a weapon plaque in Master Harry's bedroom?'
'That would be much appreciated. Thank you, Cranky.'
The elf nodded eagerly, took the blade and disapparated. Arcturus shook his head and read the card that came with this most unusual of presents.
'It seems the Lestrange family is rather worried about your safety at Hogwarts. They claim to have personally tested the blade on wild griffins. If only I could not believe that. Their sense of humour is nearly as nasty as Cranky's. Nevertheless, a suspiciously good haul, if you may permit me to say so? While the fob watch and the quill seem obvious choices, you might not guess that the ink set is actually one of the most expensive gifts you have received yet.' He sniffed slightly at some colours and swiftly shut the case again. 'Some of those are very rare and several highly magical. Most can be used to draw permanent runes. There are not many people up to enchanting these things, and you should remember to thank your aunt most amicably for this thoughtful present.'
'I will,' returned Harry with a nod and put his gifts away reverently (even the huge picture, though he treated that one with visible trepidation). Afterwards, his grandfather waited for him to settle down and, once he had done so, presented him three other gifts: one of big, one of small, and one of tiny proportions. Harry looked eagerly into his grandfather's eyes, who nodded serenely. To Arcturus' amusement, Harry started with the parcel in the middle. Once unpacked, a book came into view. Master Nentray's Complete Guide to Barriers and Wardings, only this copy seemed to be much smaller and only contain a hundred pages. But once he had opened it, he found all twelve thousand pages present, though only the next few dozen in either direction were ever visible. The first blank page sported another note in the neat, cursive handwriting of his grandfather:
'We shall not yield to the ignorance of man. In loving gratitude, Arcturus Black III for his grandson Harry. London, 31. July 1994.'
Harry gawped at the devotement and opened his mouth, only to close it several moments later. Some time passed before he finally turned towards his grandfather and muttered softly, 'Thank you...'
'It was my pleasure, Harry. But do keep it safe! As I told you, the original you have found upstairs is a unique. Now, I doubt Nentray will complain that we doubled the number of his published works, but it would not be a very good idea to flaunt it. While it is charmed to only be readable by our family, you should take great care. Others, especially some teachers at Hogwarts, may find certain passages of this book … distasteful. I would not wish your present confiscated.'
It was obvious, however, that Harry would not let this thing out of his sight more often than strictly necessary. Arcturus seemed very pleased with the visible effusiveness his gift had elicited in Harry and continued in his gentle and low voice, 'I have also indexed most subjects and topics inside the book with Cranky's help. I cannot help but wonder how many wizards are less able than him. You should certainly strive to be your best, as to not disappoint Cranky.' He added good-naturedly, 'I doubt he would ever let it rest if he thought he knew more magic than you. But how about you open the bigger parcel. I think you will like it very much, and it may even compliment Nentray.'
Unlikely conjectures cavorting in his head, Harry looked at the bigger parcel with reverence. Slowly and very carefully, he unwrapped the hardcover of Forgotten Masters at Charmswork: Waldufin, Chzem, Nentray and many more.
Harry stared at the imposing book for three full seconds. 'What...How?'
'I had an associate of mine buy it for me anonymously yesterday evening. I felt it would be better, in the interest of keeping your inheritance intact, if it were bought by someone with a different name, as the shopkeeper did not seem very complaisant towards Blacks. I spotted you sneaking a glance, of course. You seemed to have taken an interest.'
'Yes, I have taken an interest, alright. Incredible! Thank you so much!'
Arcturus could see that Harry wished nothing more than to have good look at his new acquisition in the library. So as to not torture him any longer, he indicated the smallest package. 'Have a look at your last parcel, then. It is nothing grand, but I think you may appreciate it for what it is.'
Wordlessly, Harry unfolded the last package and soon held in his hands a small inconspicuous silver chain that held an equally unimposing, ancient-looking emerald signet ring which displayed the Black coat of arms. He knew these rings were only to be given to the legal heir of a noble house and never to outsiders, not even for safekeeping. In fact, only he and Arcturus now held signet rings of House Black. And while this present may have been the least costly, it was easily his dearest.
'Thank you,' he muttered feebly, all too aware that his eyes were becoming somewhat moist.
Arcturus stood up and embraced him yet again, as – for once – words seemed unnecessary right now.
~BLHD~
Harry spent most of his day in the library, marvelling at his new treasures. True to his word, Nentray's magnum opus was now charmed to instantly flip to the page of a given subject. Or even highlight the relevant pages with a temporary marker, in case there were several. This was highly convenient, as searching for a subject in the ponderous tome could otherwise take hours, if not days. Most of the time, however, Harry had spent reading his new book of forgotten charms masters. Even better than he had originally thought, the book not only made a study of unearthing long-lost authors and descriptions of their achievements, it even tried to recreate some of the forgotten research and listed all relevant books that may either help to decipher this old lore, or may possibly have been used by those old warlocks themselves. Harry had excitedly skimmed through Nentray's chapter and was delighted to find that the author had managed to replicate a very respectable amount of experiments and charms that were believed to be lost. How the author, a certain Professor Mandus, had managed this, when he himself had stated that Nentray's works had disappeared, was beyond Harry. In a sudden fit of suspicion, he had even searched for Mandus and his wife on the Black family tapestry, but was relieved when he did not find them there.
He dared not think about the price his grandfather had undoubtedly paid for this work of a genius, but – in all honesty – he could not imagine money better spent. After making sure Mandus had not been a fraud, he had insisted that Cranky put a preservation charm on every page of the book and the cover. The elf had happily obliged and advised Harry to take the time to answer his birthday cards, as he resolutely refused to tolerate owls in the library.
Later, it took Cranky coming personally to take Harry to dinner, as Minny had been very depressed and returned to the kitchens in tears to report that she could not get his attention. Harry was in a most excellent mood, and Arcturus was visibly enjoying himself as well. Dinner was simply fabulous, and for once even Cranky took their compliments without further comment. Once their plates had vanished, the Blacks adjourned to the lounge. And while they would not hold their usual classes tonight, there was nevertheless much to discuss. After Harry had happily described the genius of Mandus and even his suspicions to Arcturus, the old man laughed knowingly.
'I know of this man, Harry. Otherwise, I would not have paid the price for that tome of yours. That man was a fanatic in the truest sense of the word. As far as I gathered, he collected snippets of parchment and paid horrendous sums for even scraps of school works of his research subjects. His family was not very grateful, however, as he spent most of his family fortune for his private research. But it must be said that he achieved much indeed. Though, as is often the case with such driven men, he had a rather peculiar personality, and as if to honour his own profession, he only ever created five copies of his own research. One for his family, two for sale and another two in private ownership. One is since lost and you just secured another one. The Mandus family is all but gone today, and I know nothing of the other exemplars. You should also take note that Mandus, in his quirky sense of humour, enchanted his works to not only be unenchantable but also placed certain runes in the script so that it is not even possible to transcribe them by hand. They are truly one-of-a-kind.'
Harry smiled, unperturbed. Somehow he was able to understand the author. If something was to be truly cherished, it should not be mass produced.
'You know, Harry, I am curious. You know of Hogwarts' houses. Do you have any preferences or aversions? Please indulge this old man.'
Harry chuckled somewhat embarrassedly. Arcturus only brought up 'old man' as a playful barb and reminder of Harry's spiteful beginnings in good mood and light conversations.
'In all honesty, Grandfather, I somehow cannot help but feel that people put too much emphasis on the whole matter of houses. Surely, there is some truth to be found there; but on the other hand, people obviously believe that once you are sorted you may never change again. The ridiculous prejudices that have spawned around the houses do not help the matter.'
'Indeed, Harry, I do agree with you. But the question still stands, as the procedure is unlikely to change until next month, so you may have to endure the indignity of being judged for six or possibly seven years in an instant.'
'Well,' Harry replied cautiously, 'I think I could contentedly live with three choices and be abysmally disappointed with the other.'
'I suppose you would not wish to be in Slytherin then, Harry?'
'What? No! I think I would even prefer to be sorted there. I have thought about this, Grandfather, and I have come to the conclusion that I will be ostracised no matter where I will be sorted. The rancour may be the most bitter, should I find myself in the House of Slytherin, but if I plan to ever overturn this bias, I think victory will also be the sweetest there. As for the other houses, there does appear to be nothing wrong with Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Only Ravenclaw seems worthless to me. Knowledge for its own sake just feels a bit lacking. Enlightenment is not a bad thing, but I have too many urgent problems to sit on a mountain of wisdom and be content with my own cleverness. Also, I somewhat doubt there will be many people willing to associate with me in Ravenclaw if they feel their academical achievements may suffer as a result.'
Arcturus listened closely as it was quite rare for his grandson to casually divulge much of his thoughts. Eventually, he smiled sadly and tried to offer Harry a piece of wisdom.
'That is a most laudable course of action, Harry. But you do remember that this is not your burden alone to bear? There are others who will have to shoulder the preconceptions that society has seen fit to lay on us. I do not wish to frighten you – truly – but you should know that there will maybe even be some within Slytherin who will not be amendable in their ways, even towards a Black. For some, blood is everything. And while those may hate you for their own reasons, I fear others outside your common room would see nothing but the young scion of the darkest of noble houses.'
Harry's jaw was set and a rare sense of determination shone from his eyes. Even though Harry held few beliefs and found near everything a matter of discussion, perception or perspective, he held this one firm conviction not to suffer punishment for this family that had taken him as their son and for which he felt nothing but gratitude and love.
'Let them. I swear to you, I will engrave the Black crest on my robes, and if my classmates do not accept me for who I am, I, in turn, will reject the lot of them!'
Arcturus looked at Harry with wide eyes and no small measure of pride. He did, however, not wish to hold a discussion so serious and bleak on his cherished grandson's birthday, so he made an easy attempt to lighten the mood. 'I do not think your dear cousin will let you make a lonely stand in any case. I would be very surprised if you managed to keep her at bay. Even with Black coat of arms and public displays of truly vile magic.'
Harry instantly assumed a facial expression of severe physical pain, though his eyes held none of it.
'Yes, I guess that may be true. But it's not likely I'll ever use that stuff at school. You know why I studied the family magic...'
Arcturus smiled inwardly. It was true that those skills that were publicly coined the Dark Arts were not inherently more evil than most other forms of magic. A severing charm was no dark magic but was still one of the nastiest forms of magic children learned early on. Blood magic, by stark contrast, was truly not very pretty, but offered (contrary to its infamy and legal status) many benevolent magics such as warding spells and shields, even healing. The root of the problem lay elsewhere, as Harry had implied. The true Dark Arts were only learned and taught in certain families, and all of them in Britain Darkers, though not every family suffering the stigma knew of those arts. Most other families knew next to nothing about them and held all manners of preconceptions. But if one heir, for whatever reason, refused to learn those skills only passed down through the generations, he would inevitably condemn this knowledge to be lost. And for all his disdainful talk about knowledge 'for knowledge's sake', Arcturus knew that his grandson would never suffer the indignity of dooming such lore to oblivion. As remarkable as Harry was to Arcturus' eyes, he was a true enigma. Contradiction personified.
'Grandfather, I have something for you. I would like you to know that I very much enjoyed your presents today, and I, in turn, have something I wish to impart.'
The formal tone struck Arcturus as foreboding. He had truly no idea what Harry meant. He gestured for him to continue, but not before speaking his mind. 'Harry, you need not give me anything, I assure you, I have been given enough gifts for the both of us in my life. And you owe me nothing, neither back then nor now. We are family, Harry. I truly wish for you to be able to accept some heartfelt tokens of our esteem for you.'
He had laid it on pretty thick, but the ways of a politician died slowly – and in any case, he meant every word. He felt an incredible sense of gratitude for the chance to raise another child. The direct lines of Blacks had nearly died out, even his first grandchildren had been taken by them... Never had he hoped to find Harry so open-minded and fair in his judgement; it was truly more than this family could have wished for. And to their astonished delight, Harry had relatively quickly begun to deeply embrace their ways and, apart from himself, he very much doubted anyone today was as much a Black as this adopted grandson of his.
To his surprise, Harry procured a very heavy-looking envelope that hinted at official documents.
Frowning and not altogether sure what this crafty grandson of his had come up with, he slowly took the thick parchment and looked into Harry's eyes. There, however, he found nothing but warmness, gratitude and adoration. With a lurch in his stomach, Arcturus slowly opened the letter.
'I, Harry Potter, heir apparent to the ancient House Potter, hereby declare my irrevocable determination to renounce all claims to the heritage and name of House Potter for myself and all my descendants...'
The official document that was graced by the Potter coat of arms continued in a distinctively formal way and was subscribed by four witnesses, one of which was, to Arcturus' immense incredulity, the Minister for Magic himself.
It took a while for Arcturus to comprehend what he had read, and immediately, he reread the whole thing, just to be sure. As with the first time, however, he found the document completely ironclad. With a pang of guilt, he turned to his grandson.
'You did not have to do this, Harry. Do you even realise the magnitude of this document? You are not even allowed to wield your birth name anymore.'
To his astonishment, defiance and pride erupted in Harry's eyes like fire over a volcano. 'I know of this full well, old man. Do not take me for the child I used to be.'
The harsh tone surprised Arcturus even more, but he chose to let it go, looking at his grandson in silent wonderment.
'This document legally integrates me fully into the Black family. As a direct result of my abdication, I am no longer merely your adopted grandson or ward with a Potter background – just a Black. There is no further conflict of interest, no further doubt anyone can ever raise. I do not need a secondary family; this one is the only one I want. I spit on the prejudice! I cannot wait to look at the faces of all those at Hogwarts that will think me shamed by my upbringing.'
Harry seemed to collect himself before he added in a softer tone, 'You yourself said we are family, and I could not agree more. This,' he pulled forth his new signet ring that hung from his neck, 'is everything I want and need.'
Arcturus could not have looked more overcome with emotion as he said in a slow voice that seemed to try to make sense of the world, as he was wont to do, 'Ollivander. He refused to address you as Potter in my presence.'
Harry nodded and offered a small smile. 'At that time, this was already signed and the ink dry. Merlin knows how he came to know. I don't think you would understand how paranoid I was about you finding out. Anyway, Black it is from now on.'
Harry looked into his grandfather's eyes and was quite distressed to see them full of tears for the first time in close to nine years. Yet, as he stood up and walked towards his family, he could not help but feel very content that, this first time, he had been given the opportunity to repay them all a small bit of their goodwill.
AN: For those who are already protesting; yes, there is a reason why he doesn't keep both names, combines them into a new house or whatever fancies your imagination. Chapter 8 and 18 will make it clear why such an act, not even considering its feasibility, would not be in Harry's interest.