Chapter 4
Harry was sitting on a bench in the flower garden in front of the cottage he found in a trunk. Arrayed around him -like the spokes of a wheel- were a herb, vegetable and potion garden and several greenhouses. The trunk had been put into stasis before he was even born -and with it the fully functioning farm.
It was mindboggling that he could open the lid of a trunk, step down some stairs and find himself inside a hallway leading to the living room of a cottage. One that had crop fields and grazing grounds and stables full of herd animals that had been put into an enchanted sleep.
And ringed around the gardens were several archways to different types of habitats. Warm or cold; humid or dry. And temperate. Because apparently, Alphard Black had helped Newt Scamander out while he traipsed around the globe as a carefree philanderer. As everyone was keeping a suspicious eye on Newt and his luggage, Alphard had cheerfully smuggled endangered or hurt magical beasts or creatures across borders. And gotten away with it for decades.
Nobody had ever cottoned on and Harry only knew because of Alphard's letter to Sirius that he found on the kitchen table.
During the first blood war, Alphard had stocked his cottage to the brim. Food, potion ingredients, potions, books. Anything he could think of that would help during a war. And then he'd put it into stasis. Just in case.
If only his Godfather had known what exactly his uncle had left to him. This would have been the perfect solution for his predicament.
Harry stared at the beautiful garden surrounding him. It was a piece of paradise and seeing it was like carving bloody pieces from his heart.
His Godfather had had such a tragic life. Sirius' golden years only happened during Hogwarts after he ran away from home. All while a war raged outside the school's walls. Then he'd been an auror on the frontlines, and then he'd lost everything and was tossed into Azkaban without anyone looking back.
His family, his friends, his fellow aurors, the other members of the order, they all abandoned him to hell on earth. Because they couldn't -or wouldn't- lift a finger to help.
It didn't get better when Sirius escaped. Trapped inside his own Durzkaban due to his loyalty and obedience to a man who didn't deserve it, helpless to do much of consequence, and confronted with people who distrusted him because of his family -or tormented him because Snape was a vile creature who revelled in people's suffering.
Even though Harry missed his Godfather terribly, he couldn't help but feel relief at the peace the man must have found in death.
But now he had found this cottage in a trunk, this sliver of heaven, in Sirius' own vault no less. Everything could have been different and he mourned that in a whole new way.
Harry closed his eyes and blew out a trembling breath.
There was no use crying. Not right now.
---
Harry lifted his hands from the glowing crystal. "And this will keep Dumbledore from finding out I'm spending my summer in a pocket dimension?" He asked dubiously.
"Wards monitor magic which tells wards how the witch of wizard is. Are they sick, injured, happy? Magic knows and tells. You'se magic is now in crystal and crystal will be in room, talking to the wards and charging them."
Harry clenched his jaw in anger at the reminder. Dumbledore had not only suspected that he condemned Harry to ten dark years when he left him on the Dursley's doorstep, he had known exactly how bad it was.
It sickened him and made him want to tear the man to shreds.
"And Moody-" Harry trailed off.
"Mad-eyes will see what elves wants him to see, nothing more."
Harry was glad that Winky was so patient with him. Dobby would have been bouncing off the walls by now. Instead, his friend was poking around the Black family and lord vaults for useful items. Harry had sent him out to find the biggest magical tent he could find, clothing, dueling robes, family wands, and an inventory of the vaults and the libraries.
When he was back, it would be Winky's turn. She was tasked with restocking their potions and potions ingredients as some of those couldn't be held under stasis for more than a year before deteriorating. Their magic was too volatile and thus interacted eventually with the stasis magic. After that, she would go to Rome and shop for all materials needed to sit the International NEWTs. All of them.
Harry, in the meantime, was angsting over Moody. The man might be crazy, but he was evidently insanely loyal to Dumbledore and that enchanted eye gave Harry the creeps. If the man saw through the elves' illusions he would notice that Harry wasn't in his room, but that a new trunk was. And a glowing crystal. And then everything would fall apart.
Winky herded him to a comfortable outdoor lounger in his back garden and plied him with tea and finger sandwiches. The babbling brook and small pond was soothing, as was watching the sheep, cows and horses graze in their fields. There were no baby animals yet, but there would be since every farm animal he had, had several studs for breeding.
He couldn't wait.
---
Harry was bent over a piece of parchment at the kitchen table after lunch while Winky was preparing a roast for dinner. Dobby had come back with quite the haul and was currently doing a thorough inventory of the magical tent.
That thing was completely ostentatious. Just like the cottage, it had a library, potions room, and dueling room, but the latter was absolutely gigantic with ten top of the line, auror-grade dueling mannequins. And that was in addition to work rooms for rune craft and enchanting, its own gardens and greenhouses, sun rooms, and a ball room.
A ball room. In a tent.
Yeah, the Blacks were crazy.
The dueling room had Harry excited, though. The one in the cottage was decent sized but it didn't have more than three mannequins, which limited battle simulations.
True, Harry could barely duel one average adult Wix, but he had to learn or die. He preferred learning.
For now, though, he was wracking his brain and leafing through the copy of the entire Encyclopedia Britannica Winky made for him from the one the Dursleys had for show in their living room. He was currently looking up the Anglo-Irish war, and the man who had been instrumental in its success: Michael Collins. He had several topics written down on his parchment so that one of the elves could purchase books about it later. He was specifically looking at successful revolutions like the French and American revolutions, and wars that Tom would be familiar with like the boerenoorlog and the first and second world war.
Harry had no clue about military, strategy, or tactics. Hopefully, military history would help. Knowing what the dark lord knew, would use, and would guard against seemed vital as well.
That was his starting point.
"Oh," Harry perked up. "There are military universities, I think. I'll look that up in the library, pretend like I'm interested in joining the military... Maybe one of you can look around one of those universities and see what they teach. Note down the subjects and then we can look it over and purchase the interesting books."
Winky shook her wooden spoon at him. "And the boring books too!"
Harry groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "But there are so many topics already and they'll have several books each, and that's just the Muggle military stuff. I can't read it all!"
"We'se will all skim books and put up little summary of each, and divide in useful and not useful." Her ears lowered. "If Harry Potter trusts Winky and Dobby?"
Harry wanted to hug her so bad. "Yes, that's a wonderful idea!" Relief coursed through him. "And of course I trust you," he said offhandedly. "Only a bloody moron wouldn't put their trust in powerful, magical creatures with centuries of knowledge and experience." He rolled his eyes. "Oh wait, I described the entirety of the British Wixen population," he said caustically.
"Language," Winky tutted with a happy twinkle in her eye.
Harry valiantly resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. It might have something to do with Winky's knowing look and the wooden spoon pointed at him.