Contemplating Death
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The funeral was a small one. Only the immediate family, and Lucius Malfoy, was there. It was a bright and sunny day, which Harry thought was unfair. He thought that it should be raining and dreary. So that the weather could match his mood. But, no, it was sunny and happy. Everyone there was dressed in black, and they were all grumpy and complaining. No one but him and Uncle Pads were upset that Uncle Arcturus was dead.
That wasn’t fair, Aunt Andromeda and Tonks were upset, just not as much as he and Vic were. They were far more detached than he and Pads were. They only knew Uncle Arcturus on weekends and were sad, but…
The ceremony went on for hours with the wizard doing the burial going on and on about pureblood traditions and such. Which was the standard fare for someone of Arcturus’ standing.
Uncle Arcturus wanted to be cremated. So, they did that in the end, but there were a few family members who wanted to tell stories about what they remembered about him first. Maybe they thought if they talked longer, they’d get something better in the will… who knew. His two cousins, Cassiopeia and Pollux; his younger cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa, talked and talked and talked for almost two hours, until finally they got to light the pyre.
The fire took some time to burn out and they had to wait for it to die down. During that time, they mingled. Lucius stood with his son and didn’t say anything to anyone. Narcissa talked with Cassiopeia and Pollux, while Andromeda and Tonks, with Ted, talked with Vic. Harry just stood and watched the fire and contemplated life and death.
He understood what had happened, but he didn’t like it. Death was new to him. Sure, his parents died, but he was a baby when that had happened, and he didn’t remember. It had been a passing concept. Now it was reality. All he knew was his uncle didn’t wake up and now he was never going to see him again. And he wasn’t sure if he could accept this. His uncle had saved him from the Dursleys, and now he was gone. Just gone. There was no big event, the man just hadn’t woken up.
Harry stared at that fire for a long time, until it died, and they put the ashes into an urn. They handed the urn to him, and he put it in the family vault. There were a few more words spoken, and a spell was put on the vault so that thieves couldn’t break in. It was a Black family spell, so Pollux did it. Lucius was miffed that he was asked to leave with Ted and Vic, but Harry was allowed to stay.
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Afterwards was the Will reading, and that was a warzone. Well, not really, but tensions were high. Nobody liked what the will had to say. Well, more than half weren’t happy. The Tonks’ were quite content. Vic and Harry knew the Will, and they knew not everyone would be happy with the bequeaths, but they were not concerned with other people’s feelings at the moment.
The elderly Blacks were upset that they were merely pensioned off and told to retire and live out their remaining few days in happiness. They had been hoping for far more than they had received. Arcturus had been generous these last few years, but with what he was giving them now, they would have to pinch the knuts.
Draco, via Lucius, was also given a stipend and told to bugger off. He was not a happy wizard. His schooling would be paid for, but that was it, other than the allowance.
Andromeda and Tonks were also given an allowance, larger than Draco’s, and told to live life to the fullest. Tonks’ schooling would be paid in full, and there was a dowry for her, unless she wanted to use it for college. It was up to her. Tonks was pretty sure that the government would pay for her college, so she would decide what to do with that later.
Harry was the heir, and now the Lord Black, and Vic was his Steward. Vic would be legally responsible for everything until Harry became of age. He would be in charge of the House and the accounts. Anything anyone wanted would have to go through him, and he would talk to Harry about it.
“This is unfair,” Draco complained, having been told all his life that he was going to be the Black lord. Now he was being told he would never be Lord Black. It was quite the blow to his ego. That this upstart half-blood got the title that was his by birthright. Damn that old man.
There was a clause in the will that if Harry Potter died of anything other than natural causes, the Black family name would die out. No matter what Harry’s will stated. All money’s left over would be donated to St. Mungo’s and the Ministry evenly. Not even Nymphadora Tonks was considered as an alternate. An investigation would be mandatory in the event of Harry’s death. Should foul play be found, the person responsible would be persecuted by goblin law for line theft.
“Hush, Draco,” Narcissa said, not wanting anything further to downfall their family. The allowance they got was pitiful, and she didn’t know this Vic Potter or how petty or spiteful he was. He might take them further down the poverty hole then they already were treading. Lucius had not done them any favors with his bribing of the Minister years ago. It was a good thing the man had stopped.
They weren’t in dire straits yet, but they weren’t on the top of the food chain like they had been five years ago. When Arcturus had cut their funds, and Lucius had tried to out bribe him, they had fallen into harder times. Lucius just didn’t understand that her cousin was the Head of her House, and he held the purse strings. What he said was law. Instead, Lucius tried to outwit the man. He lost.
“We concur,” Cassiopeia stated for her and her brother, who was still trying to come to terms with the will. They were elderly, and like their now dead cousin had been, were on their last leg. They too had been told to take it easy. They had been told they were going to die any day and were surprised to be alive at this time. They were both nearly 125 years old and had not led a clean life. It had been only because Arcturus had given them money in the past that they had lived as long as they had. Now that he was gone…
“The will is ironclad, there is nothing to be done about it,” the goblin, Sharptooth, stated. He had written the will himself and knew that Harry would be his final client until the boy had children of his own. Well, for the Black account anyway. The child was still Goldfinger’s client, and now he had two accounts in the bank, making him one of the wealthiest clients. He would be catered to very well. “You can of course waste your time and money fighting it, but that just means that you will be defeated,” he added, showing his many teeth to Lucius, knowing the man’s financial difficulties.
Lucius sniffed and tightened his grip on his cane. Since he had tried to hire those assassins for the two Potters, his name was lower than mud in the dark communities. He was persona no grata in many taverns and pubs. It wasn’t that he tried to hire them, it was how he went about it. He was too blatant about it and tried to hire common criminals and not master assassins. They took exception to that and killed the common riffraff and warned him not to do it again.
“Well, if that is all,” Vic said, standing and going to the table where the documents were laying, “we’ll sign these and be off,” he said, sadly. He was still very much in mourning. He picked up his and Harry’s documents and started signing.
Harry hadn’t said a word. He was silently crying. Tears were running down his face and he was still trying to come to grasp with the fact that Uncle Arcturus was not going to be home when he got there. Uncle Pads tried to explain that the man was just old and old people died, but Harry just wanted his Uncle Arcturus to be alive. He knew that the portrait would be there, but it wouldn’t be the same.
“Come, Harry,” Vic said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. He knew Harry was not dealing well with his uncle’s death.
Harry just nodded and stood and followed.
“Harry,” Andromeda said, getting up and hugging the boy one more time. “If you need anything…” she said, trailing off. She had offered all the condolences at the funeral, but the boy was just inconsolable. He was so young and overwhelmed. Tonks was taking it better, but she wasn’t as close to the old man as Harry had been. That and she was older and wiser.
Harry nodded again and followed his uncle out of the room.
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The two Potters went home and were in the study waiting for the portrait to waken. They had been waiting a week now. Uncle Arcturus had had it painted a few years ago when his health had started to deteriorate. He said it was because he didn’t trust the two to go on without him, but they were sure that it was because he just liked being a busybody.
Harry couldn’t wait for the portrait to awaken. He missed his uncle something fierce. His tears were dry now. He understood what was happening and knew that this was not his uncle, but it was better than nothing. It would act like his uncle, sound like his uncle, and look like his uncle. For now, that was enough.
Suddenly the figure in the picture yawned. “Bugger,” Arcturus said, looking around the room. “I died, didn’t I?” he asked, sighing. He had been hoping to live until Harry was free of Dumbledore. Or at least until Harry grew up a bit more.
“Yes, you did, you pompous arse,” Vic said, tears running down his face, though he couldn’t tell if they were sad or happy ones. Probably both. He, like Harry, knew this wasn’t his grandfather/uncle, but he just couldn’t help but be happy to see the portrait move. He would need the man’s advice in the years to come. He knew he might become tired of the constant advice, but he was glad of it right now.
“Uncle Arcturus,” Harry said, happy to hear that voice again. “I missed you so much,” he added, going to the portrait, and looking at the man he admired so.
“You know I am not really him, correct?” the man in the picture said, looking at the child with sad eyes. Even with no emotions, he didn’t want to give the child false hope.
“I’ll take any part of you I can get,” Harry said, smiling up at the painting. “Even if it is a false facsimile.” His face lit up the room with its radiance. It was like the tears of the last week were never there. He might be in denial, but he was just so happy at the moment he didn’t care. Was this healthy? He didn’t know. It was something to think about later.
“Where did you learn such a large word?” Arcturus asked, a gentle smile on his face.
“From you,” Harry said, grinning like a loon.
“Figures,” the painting said, adjusting his cuffs and settling in his chair. His painting was that of a study. There was a medium sized wooden rolltop desk off to the side, with plenty of parchment, quills, and inkpots. There were other things on the desk, like trinkets and instruments needed to keep one busy. There was a bookcase with many books lining the back wall. A white rope rug was under the brown leather chair that he sat on. The walls were dark brown wood and there were pictures of forests on them. There was a large globe of the world on a brass stand in one corner, and a stuffed troll in the other that was dressed in a tattered white linen shift.
“Uncle, why do you have a stuffed troll in your portrait?” Harry asked, looking at the lumbering beast. It looked large just standing there. It had its hands out like it was reaching to tear your head from your body in one swift movement. There was a dumb look on its face, like it wasn’t sure what it was about to do, but it was going to do it anyway.
“For conversational topics when you are dead. No one will know my story then and I can make it all up,” the man said, waving to the stuffed troll and giving the boy a wicked smile. “This way I can tell people that I killed it, and had it stuffed and was a great warrior and wizard,” he added, winking at the child.
Harry just giggled. Leave it to Arcturus to make up something like that. He would want to inflate his history to those in the future. He wouldn’t want anyone to remember the fragile man he died as.
“Harry can create his own portrait and contradict you,” Vic said, chiming into the conversation. He was laughing inside. It sounded more like something he’d do, and not at all like his grandfather. Maybe there was more to his grandfather’s youth that he didn’t know about. He really didn’t know about the man’s childhood, only his adulthood, and only his geriatric years at that. They were not full of glory, but the man had not been a pushover. He was a formidable opponent in the political ring.
“I doubt he would do such a thing,” the dead man said, winking at Harry again. “Now tell me, how did the will reading go?” he inquired, folding his left leg over his right and looking at Vic intensely. “I assume it was read after the funeral. Which judging by your clothes was today,” he stated, looking at their attire.
“About as well as you expected it to,” Vic said, telling him of the commotion Cassiopeia made and Draco’s upset over the amount he got.
“Keep your eye on that boy’s father. Now that I’m not around, he’s going to get bolder,” Arcturus stated, looking at Vic. He cut a look at Harry who was looking at Vic.
“I will,” Vic said, already thinking about beefing up the wards and putting tracking charms on everything Harry owns. Sure, it might be overkill, but it wasn’t paranoia… Lucius was a Death Eater, there was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They would do well to watch their backs. His last attempt might have failed, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop.
“I’ll keep my eyes open too,” Harry said, knowing it was his arse on the line. “I’ll make sure to stay with someone at all times. We’ve vetted every one of my tutors, but Vic will look into them again. And I’ll have a house elf stay with me during class time. I know that the spy classes should be fine, but I’ll have one join me for them too.”
“That should be fine. Keep an emergency portkey on you too,” Arcturus said, going over all the contingency plans they had made for if they ever needed to be more diligent. “You will need to be seen more in public now too. So, keep a house elf with you at all times. You’ll need to make more appearances at parties and such,” he added. “You are Lord Black and the Boy-Who-Lived. You are one of the most prominent people in the country. Make donations, shake hands, and associate with politicians. Just do things do get noticed. I know you don’t like it but needs must.”
“You never did any of that,” Harry pointed out.
“Yes, I did,” Arcturus said, looking at Vic.
“What do you think we were doing when you were in bed or in class? We were mingling with the Prime Minister and his lot. We donated to St. Mungo’s and the Ministry. We did a lot of politicking. That’s how we got a lot of people to donate to the Ministry and got Malfoy and his ilk out of there,” Vic confirmed. “If you don’t take up where Uncle Arcturus stopped, Lucius might worm his way back in.”
“But, I’m just a kid,” Harry complained. The last thing he wanted to do was politic. He had a busy enough schedule. He would have to cut into his free time, which was limited as it was.
“I know, which is why, I’m going to do a majority of the work and you’re just going to look cute and shake hands,” Vic said, ruffling his hair.
“You’ll meet more kids your age, and you might meet some girls you like,” the man in the painting said, giving the boy a wink.
“Eww,” Harry said, giving the man a disgusted look. “I’m far too young for that,” he added, wrinkling his nose. Not that he thought girls were gross anymore, but kissing was.
Vic and Arcturus laughed and knew in a few years the boy would be singing a different tune.
“Head to bed,” Vic said, looking at the clock and seeing it was only three in the afternoon. “Take a nap until dinner. It’s been an emotional day for you, and you look knackered.”
Harry yawned and nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Uncle Arcturus,” he said, one more time to the painting and then ran out of the room. He was tired. That and he still had some thinking to do about this whole death thing.
“How is he doing?” the portrait asked once the boy was gone.
“You having a painting helps, but I don’t think he understands that you’re not coming back,” Vic said, wiping a hand down his face. “Let me reiterate. He knows you’re not coming back, he’s not a baby, but he doesn’t like it.”
“He’ll get over it,” Arcturus stated, watching the other man, who seemed to have aged a decade in the week since his death. “And you?”
“I miss you,” Vic said, standing and starting pacing. “Your death was sudden, and we really need you, but I’m dealing.”
“Good, good.”
“Your will is ironclad and I’m glad you added the clause about Harry’s death must be due to natural causes. That helps a lot. I’ll take good care of him,” Vic said, sitting down again, folding his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees, letting his folded hands dangle between his legs. “It’s hard dealing with all the anger of the Blacks. It’s one of the reasons I had no problems leaving this family.”
“I’m sure you’re doing fine. You were still raised a Black,” his ex-grandfather stated, proudness in his tone.
“I’m doing my best,” was all the other man said.
“That’s all I can ask,” Arcturus stated. “What will you do about Dumbledore? He’s going to try and use my death as a reason to get Harry to Hogwarts.”
“How does that even make sense? You were not his guardian,” Vic said, raising his head. He knew Dumbledore was going to keep trying, but using this didn’t make sense.
“I was the more dominant person in his life,” the other man pointed out. “I had the most political pull,” he added. Dumbledore would use any excuse.
“I have a lot of pull,” Vic said, tilting his head. “Now I have the ear of the PM,” he pointed out.
“That you got through me,” Arcturus said, raising a finger.
“Yes, but now I hold my own there,” Vic said, with a decisive nod.
“Use it then. Have the PM sign an affidavit stating that Harry can school where he wants. That the Wizengamot has no say over the matter. That they can’t decree where anyone goes to school,” the portrait stated. He had been about to do that when he died. It had been on his list of things to do before he kicked the bucket.
“Sounds like a plan,” Vic said, getting up and going to the desk in the room. He picked up the phone that they had installed just for making appointments with the PM. It was the only number they knew and the only one they used.
Well, Harry used it for his spy tutors. They used it to make there schedules for him. So, there were three people. That list was going to get longer, since Harry’s muggle study tutors also used the telephone.
Vic called the PM’s office and made an appointment for the following day and was happy the man had an opening.
“Now that that’s done, you’d better take a nap too,” Arcturus stated, looking at the weary man. “You look like shite.” The other man did too. He had bags under his eyes, like he had not slept since the death.
“Thanks, Uncle,” Vic grumbled, moving to leave the room to do just that.
“Vic,” Arcturus called just as the other man was out of the room.
“Yeah.”
“Leave the lights on.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“Good evening, Uncle. It’s good to have you back,” Vic said, going to take his nap. It was too. Sure, it was only an image, but he could still talk to it, and that helped a lot. He would miss the man, but this was something. He shook his head and went to grab some shuteye. He just hoped that Harry was sleeping and not thinking about death still.
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Harry wasn’t thinking about death, he was dreaming about it. In his dream, he was running from a tall boney figure that was trying to make him put on a ring.
The ring had an open triangle that was slashed on it, and the figure was wearing a shimmering cloak that flowed like water, and it was waving a knobby wand that had berries on it. It was trying to give all these things to Harry and telling him he was part of him. Yet the figure reeked of death, and that terrified Harry.
Harry ran and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but he got nowhere. The figure kept getting closer and closer. Harry could feel the cold down the back of his neck as it got closer.
But the figure wasn’t running. It was floating. Gliding really. It glided across the gray landscape of dead foliage and rock. There was a bitter cold in the air that bit Harry to the bone. There was a soul shattering screech that made Harry jolt.
Harry woke up with a start.
“Well, shite,” he said as he pulled his sweaty shirt off his chest and wiped his brow.