The Boy, interrupted
Harry James Potter walked beside Sirius Black, head bent as he wistfully looked at the ground. Hedwig followed her master at a respectful distance, sharp eyes watching Sirius. Sirius for his part, did not seem to notice the melancholy mood of his godson, or if he did, he ignored it. He was too busy speaking about their new home.
“…you’ll love it! I’ll teach you all about quidditch! You know James played quidditch too! Man I can’t wait to see you out there! Bet you’re a natural!”
Sirius had been chattering on for the better part of an hour, while Harry had successfully tuned him out for the most part, it had been a long day. It seemed that Sirius was determined to strip him of everything that was his Da’s influence.
They’d stopped at Olivander’s first, for a proper wand fitting of a future Lord. Harry had rolled his eyes and instantly went into “Dursley Mode”. If he agreed and played along, he wouldn’t be punished too badly. When Olivander saw who it was that had walked into his store, the man had simply sighed heavily and went to the back to retrieve a rather foul tempered wand.
“Heir Potter-Black, this-“
“It’s Bunnymund,”
Sirius sighed, shaking his head over Harry’s and signaling to Olivander to use his title again. He had to get used to hearing it. Olivander forced a smile onto his aging face and spoke, “Heir Potter-Black, I recall every want I have ever sold. Every. Last. One. I won’t bother to go through hundreds of mediocre wands-“
“Then don’. Aye have a good one. Made from betta’ materials than ye got. Ain’t interested,” Harry turned around and walked towards the door, opened it and slammed it on his way out. Some of the boxes rattled and fell, clattering to the floor.
Sirius quickly sputtered for an apology, while levitating several back into their boxes. Olivander held a hand up, shaking off the apology, “I do not normally do this, Lord Black, but it would seem that your Heir is in dire need of this. This wand, I made almost a lifetime ago, and its twin is what caused that young child all the terrible pain long ago. I do believe this is Heir Potter-Black’s wand. His true wand, nonetheless. I do not know much about his current wand, but I believe it has serviced him enough.”
Sirius nodded, shrinking down the dormant wand into his pocket, “Thank you, Mr. Olivander! I’ll owl you the payment!”
Olivander shook it off and calmly walked back to the assembly room.
Their next stop had been to a small beauty boutique which resided next to Madam Malkin’s. Sirius would be next door getting him a wardrobe “fit for an heir”, which Harry knows to mean dress like Draco. Harry just wants to keep his cargos and jeans and thongs. He wants his long colorful hair and his tattoos-there is nothing that he is ashamed of, why can’t they see that? Sirius left with instructions to do whatever she could to turn his hair back to normal.
Harry is giddy; his Da’s river of color is permanent and thus, will not budge. Still, he knows this will piss off Sirius, to find his ridiculous amount of money wasted since Harry’s hair will stay the same.
He can’t wait.
—————————————————————
Sirius is done with Madam Mallon after nearly three hours of debating fabrics, colors, and fit. Harry will have a full wardrobe of respectable clothing by the end of the week. There are more shoes and jackets and other things and even a brand new trunk.
Hedwig is perched on a lamppost directly across the street from Madam Malkin’s. She has not stopped watching Sirius since the trial. It’s far too unnerving and Sirius is sure that no bird should be giving him a look of promised death.
He tried to suggest a new bird, but Hedwig had promptly knocked Sirius on the head with her wing. Harry hadn’t told her otherwise and Sirius had wisely kept his mouth shut after that.
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Miss Hopton has prided herself in the art of beauty of all forms. She could tame any hair, being any style to life and dye any hair whatever color the customer wanted. She’d learned the art from her grandmama-a pioneer of Magickal beautician artistry.
She had made her simplest clients look extraordinary, magick flowed in every strand of hair-brunettes glowed, blondes sparkled in the sun and reds shimmered with sunlight. She had never been in distress before, no matter the length or texture, she was able to tame and master it.
Except this particular Potter’s hair.
She knew the Potter bloodline well enough-it took a skilled hand and wand to tame their hair. Her mother had made James Potter look presentable for his Yule Ball. She had learned it well.
Miss Hopton sighed as she poured her fifth mixture of color stripping over the boy’s head. Whatever he had used hadn’t budged from his hair. The color was as vibrant as ever. The hair hadn’t even wanted to get cut-her seventh pair of scissors broke. It was long and colorful.
“It’s not going to come out is it?”
“Nah good try Sheila!”
“It’s Hopton,”
“Whateva’”
—————————————————————
Sirius had not been pleased to see his godson exactly the same. In fact, the man had been so incised that he had to take a calming draught before paying for the damages Harry’s hair had caused.
Pockets noticeably lighter, the duo had made one more stop; a magickal tattoo parlor. When Harry had seen where they were going, he nearly balked. He knew his hair wasn’t going anywhere, but what about his clan markings? Sirius could change his clothing, teach him and dress him up like a pommy bastard but he’d always be a Bunnymund.
Ten minutes later, Sirius was seconds away from blasting the store owner through the back wall. The man had the audacity to refuse Sirius’ insistence on covering up the markings. The man had said that they were beautiful and even took pictures for references!
Of course the man had refused; the teen had serious art on his body and he was an artist.
Despite the man’s gushing and picture taking, Sirius pulled Harry out of the store, who had been half way through taking off his t-shirt to show him the ones on his back.
Can’t win them all, I guess some jumpers will have to do, he thought as he all but dragged a half dressed Harry away from the shop.
—————————————————————
“Since Hogwarts is still being rebuilt, the ministry has several empty rooms which will be used in rotation to continue your education,” Sirius spoke as he opened the door to his cottage, letting Harry inside. Hedwig had simply banked off to hunt for mice and hopefully a rabbit or two.
Harry said nothing as he collapsed into the nearest sofa. Sirius sighed, but continued, “you’ll be in your…third year? So normally, you’ll have your classes on Wednesday, Friday, and Sundays with your year mates. Unfortunately, since you’re an Heir to two bloodlines, the rest of the week will be filled with wizarding culture and heirship and lordship lessons. We have to go to Gringotts to oversee a few accounts as well and on Saturdays, you’ll start to see Ginvera Weasley under supervision, to solidify the contract. Got it?”
Harry said nothing, simply listening. If he ignored him, maybe this would be over sooner.
“Listen kiddo, James and Lily left me in charge of you. I wasn’t there for a lot of it, but I’m here now. I-I- love you, prongslet. I’m gonna make sure you’re a great member of society here, make sure you’re alright when I’m gone. Ginny’s a good girl, a little stubborn but she’s got a great heart. She’ll cook you meals and she’ll make you happy when the time comes, with kids-“
Harry sat up suddenly, a palpable and burning rage pulsated through the room, “Ye don’ love me! If ye di’ ye ‘ave left me with Da and Jack! As fer tha’ Weasley chit, cancel tha’ contract! Aye refuse that rat!”
“HARRY! Enough! I-“
“Stay away fro’ me!”
Harry quickly bolted from the sofa, running straight upstairs and into the first room he saw, slamming the door hard enough to shake it. Sirius winced, wondering if he had ever been this bad.
—————————————————————
That had been three weeks ago and Sirius had been content to let him be. He wasn’t worried about Harry running-he couldn’t use the tunnels and the area around the cottage were heavily warded. Sirius had placed them himself and knew his work was damn near impeccable. He’d been a master warder aside from his decorated Auror career.
For the most part, they lived very separate lives. Harry left before sun up and foraged for his food-usually clover and edible herbs. Oftentimes he would supplement those with some vegetables as well, but it wasn’t enough. Sirius had tried to steer him away from that with a full English Breakfast one day. Harry had gotten terribly sick and had been rushed to St. Mungo’s as a precaution.
Sirius had been given a strict regimen of potions for him to heal, but he’d simply spit them up.
He didn’t trust them. Harry didn’t trust him.
Harry hated him.
They didn’t speak after the first day and Sirius only caught whatever small conversations Harry had with Hedwig. Hedwig didn’t deliver mail, the one time Harry had tried to get a message out to Aster, Hedwig had taken off only to hit a barrier. Harry had caught his beloved bird and had immediately stormed into the cottage, thick thorny vines tearing apart the door and front windows.
Still he hadn’t spoken, there was only a deep rage that hadn’t settled until the entire face of the cottage had been reduced to nothing. Once that had settled, Harry had taken Hedwig into the woods for some healing herbs.
Sirius, who’d been making dinner at the time, had been rendered speechless. Harry was not supposed to be able to do that anymore. Hands shaking terribly, he didn’t hear when the bowl crashed to the floor, he simply collapsed into the nearest still standing chair.
They’d gone to Gringotts, reinstated Harry as a Potter and a Black. The goblins had assured the man that while he’d keep the clan markings, his ties with green magick would fade and become inactive over time. Harry would be a normal wizard.
He would be able to fly and he would play quidditch and graduate. He’d become an Auror, like his father before him and he’d have a wonderful courtship with Ginvera and they’d have three strong beautiful children.
Maybe it took more time than he’d thought? He hoped that it would be soon. For now, his only option is to call the contractor’s company.
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Harry likes the goblins and they like him; he’s convinced they are more his allies than they are Sirius’. Sirius is so sure they removed his ability to perform green magick that he feels safe and bolder.
The goblins respect power and money, two things Harry has come to find he has in spades. Sirius has the Black fortune, sure and it is substantial, but Sirius doesn’t know with the way he is throwing it around, eventually it runs out.
Harry for the matter, has never needed money and possibly won’t touch it. It feels strange to use money that was worked so hard for, for trivial matters.
So it comes as no surprise that Harry recalls his Da’s teachings and bows to the goblins and gives them their proper respect. So of course, they tell Sirius that he can’t go into the ritual room and he is left waiting outside. Harry follows obediently and follows them down, past the carts, the dragons and into the very heart of the goblin’s city. It spans the entire continent with signs pointing this way to Spain and this way to France. Harry loves it.
Another goblin gives him a very toothy grin and tells him that Aster dug out their city-he gave them a refuge. He wonders if he can meet his Dad this way and the goblin nods enthusiastically.
They will have tea in early October so that no schedules are interrupted.
Harry is bought before a stern looking Goblin named Flint Flitwick, his professor’s father. Flint is in charge of the Potter accounts and has been for a very long time. Sitting down with Flint is both eye opening and exhausting; Harry as it turns out is very well off, but there are some discrepancies in the accounts.
Mainly under the names of Weasley, Dumbledore, Dursley, and some odd fellow named Mundungus. Harry reviews everything slowly-not all the Weasleys are involved, it’s just Molly, Ginvera, and Ronald. The Dursleys don’t surprise him and neither does Dumbledore. He figures that Mundungus must work for either Dumbledore or the Weasleys so that puts him out. Harry stops all the monthly payments immediately and starts the paperwork to have his funds returned, post haste.
He won’t use it but he needs evidence for his next plan. He won’t stay with Sirius forever, despite what the man thinks. Legally he is too young to emancipate himself, but there’s a lovely loophole he can exploit.
When he returns to the surface, he is sweaty and dirty and tired. Sirius believes it is from the ritual and guides him home, uncaring of the hours he spent in the lobby waiting.
The goblins remind Harry to come back for his second round the next month and Harry plays off his exhaustion and nods feebly, half stumbling in his sleepy state.
—————————————————————
Taking courses at the ministry is both exhausting and terrible. He wishes that Hogwarts was finished. At least, there will be no basilisk this time. McGonagall has told them that there were new changes-mainly that Professor Binns has moved on to the afterlife and they’ve hired a new professor, Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin reminds Harry of a puppy they’ve kicked too many times. The man is brilliant and he’s also teaching Defense as well.
Severus is restricted in his teachings; the room is not built for potions so for now, they are learning the fundamentals for “Dunderheads who refuse to open a book all summer”. Harry doesn’t mind, he loves hearing Severus speak.
He’s just happy to be back with his friends, especially when Sirius had burst in demanding that Harry be resorted into Gryffindor. Harry sighs and refuses, there is nothing wrong with Slytherin or his friends. Sirius may run his life for now, but it’s not forever and he can’t change his sorting now anyways.
Somehow, the sorting hat is found and brought in and Sirius refuses to leave until he is resorted. Harry thinks that Cupid is more mature than Sirius right now. He still doesn’t move. He can’t get expelled anyways.
Where would they put him-out in the street?
Sirius leaves after McGonagall tears into him and forcibly evacuates him. “Lord or not, I will not have you stopping their education for your foolishness!”
Thankfully, the rest of the day is full. Except for Marcus who is perpetually reading and memorizing this theory and that theory for his exams in two weeks. Harry can think of no odder sight than that of Marcus reading. Thankfully Marcus has Percy Weasley who helps him study. Harry thinks he might be a good ally someday.
Maybe.
He was a few definites in his corner and half a dozen maybes. It’s all he’s got at the moment. Hopefully once October comes, he can have more definitives.
He just has to wait and be silent. He can do both.