the siphon | h. potter

~twenty four~

harry

A mixture of fury and fear was radiating from the couch of which the Dursleys sat. All six of their eyes were trained on Dumbledore who was spread comfortably across Mr. Dursley's favorite arm chair, pouring himself a glass of brandy. Harry was standing just a few feet away, unsure how to act in this unusual situation.

Dumbledore had arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive to "collect" Harry. What he was collecting him for, Harry had no idea. But he was quiet glad to escape the suffocating confinement of the Dursley home. Although the Dursley's had been slightly more tolerable this summer, the past few weeks have still felt like years.

"Now, Harry there has been a lingering issue I have been needing your help with addressing. You see, I have acquired Sirius's will and he has left you all of his possessions. Most of it has already been transferred to your name. The Black fortune has been moved to your vault in Gringotts along with Sirius's more valuable possessions-"

"His godfather is dead?" Uncle Vernon yelled from his seat.

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Over the past weeks, he had found it difficult to mention Sirius by name. He certainly was not able to explain his murder to the Dursleys.

Fortunately, Dumbledore did not dwell on the subject. He replied with a simple "yes" and continued.

"The matter of Grimmauld Place however has been quiet more complicated... Sirius left you the estate, but due to possible contingencies I am not confident the house has indeed passed into your possession."

"If it's that big of a deal, you just just take it. I don't want the house anyway." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. The thought of returning to Grimmauld place without Sirius was nauseating.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid that would not solve our predicament. I speculate there might be enchantments and rules in place to prevent wizards who are not pure blood or descendant from the Black line from receiving the house. If this is true, the ownership was possibly passed onto Sirius's oldest cousin, Bellatrix or a different witch more closely related."

"Who would be more closely related?" Harry asked curiously. He knew Sirius only had one brother, Regulus. But Regulus had died young and without children. He didn't know there was anyone left of the Black family besides that murderous hag.

Dumbledore pressed his lips together and pressed his spectacles further up his nose, "that is unimportant at the moment. But lucky for us there is a simple solution. If you indeed inherited the Black family home you must also have inherited Kreacher."

As if on cue, the small, wrinkled elf appeared in the living room. All three Dursleys jumped in their seats and let out a loud shriek at the elf in front of them.

"No, no, oh no," Kreacher mumbled over and over again in distress.

"Now, if you give Kreacher a command and he obeys, we know he is yours."

Dumbledore was barely audible over Kreacher's cries. He was now slamming his head into his palms repeatedly, which muffled every other "no" that escaped from his mouth.

"Shut up!" Harry gasped. Instantaneously, Kreacher's mouth stopped moving and the horrid cries were no longer ringing through the room.

"Problem solved," Dumbledore smiled and turned to the Dursleys,  "Before Harry and I leave, I must ask something of you."

Uncle Vernon's nostrils flared as if to say he would not listen to a word the old man said, but his lips remained shut.

"As you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is an even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents murder and expressing I hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."