Chapter Text
Wednesday, 30 July, 1997
Harry Potter was having trouble falling asleep, despite an exhausting day. He knew why, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
A glance at his watch—working again thanks to some nifty spell Hermione had found—told him midnight was fast approaching.
It was silly, he tried to tell himself, but apparently, himself wasn’t listening. Sure, it was a bit of a tradition to wait up till midnight the night before his birthday, but, honestly, it was a bit unreasonable when he knew he would be getting up early tomorrow morning. And he was absolutely positively not worried a lick about his Inheritance. No, that was just silly. After all, he’d seen both Hermione and Ron go through their Inheritances over the last year—all that had changed for them was a bit of a growth spurt and a boost in their magical core.
He’d already known Hermione was pretty powerful, so seeing her spells take on new weight after her birthday wasn’t a big surprise. Seeing Ron’s capabilities jump might have been, too, if Harry hadn’t witnessed his friend’s struggles throughout the Fall and Winter terms as his magic tried to find a new equilibrium. Harry knew a lot of Ron’s troubles came from his encounter with the brains down in the Department of Mysterious, although Ron refused to talk about it, and he couldn’t help the nugget of guilt he still felt for leading his friends into a trap.
That thought made him think of Neville, who would have already gone through his Inheritance since it was his birthday today. He wondered what his steady and quiet friend had received when he turned seventeen. Harry had sent Hedwig off to Neville two nights ago with his birthday wishes and some seeds he’d picked up at the garden center he’d visited while on errands for his aunt.
Neville had confided in an earlier letter that he was more than a bit worried about his Inheritance. In addition to his grandmother seeming to expect Neville to step up and take more of an active role in Longbottom Family matters, there was the ever underlying worry that the traumas of his childhood would somehow interfere with his magical inheritance. Maybe something dire. Harry had wanted to tell him he was worrying over nothing, but Neville, having grown up in the wizarding world like Ron, was more likely to know than Harry was.
Ron had mentioned some kids going to sleep on the night of their birthday and waking up the next morning with wings or covered in scales. Seamus had said his Inheritance had come with excruciating pain that pierced every inch of his body. Hermione had said it was mildly discomforting but nothing too extreme. Dean, apparently, hadn’t noticed anything much at all. He wasn’t sure about Lavender or Pavarti, but he knew for a fact no one in Gryffindor Tower had sported scales or feathers this year unless they’d unknowingly partook in a Canary Cream.
Green eyes crept back to the slender hands on his watch, watching as midnight crept ever closer.
He supposed it would be just his luck to wind up with scales, wings, and a tail to boot, Harry thought. And purple. No, no, green to match his eyes, he added feeling his stomach roil. He didn’t even want to think what Petunia or Vernon would do if he came downstairs tomorrow morning looking more ‘freakish’ than normal.
What really sucked, though, was that there was little chance now he would be waking up before 6am tomorrow to do his exercises. Oh well, it was his birthday. A day without exercising could be his little treat to himself. That and the day out on the town Remus had promised him. That was something he was excited for.
The clock downstairs chimed—it was a new addition to the house décor, a Christmas present Aunt Marge had gifted them this last year. Harry suspected Aunt Petunia hated the monstrosity, but she didn’t say anything where he had heard.
Still, he glanced at his watch to confirm…. Yes, it was midnight. It was 31 July. Harry was official seventeen. A tingle raced through him and he tensed in expectation…
But nothing happened. No scales, no feathers, no wings, no pain—excruciating or otherwise.
Reaching for his wand, he pointed it at Hedwig’s cage and casted a quick “Scourgify!” The owl droppings and scraps of messy paper hiding bits and pieces of things Harry would rather not think about disappeared, leaving behind a clean cage.
“Reparo!” he called out softly, waving his wand over the broken digital radio/alarm clock that had mysteriously been added to his bedroom sometime over the last year. The clock gave out a <POP!> followed by a puff of smoke, and Harry remembered muggle things and magic didn’t always mix so well. Oh well, it wasn’t like it wasn’t broken already, he thought.
Then he grinned. Then he giggled—before quickly stifling the sound. He was seventeen! He was legal! He was able to do magic whenever and wherever he liked! Ha!
He surveyed the smallest bedroom of 4 Private Drive, and with twinkling eyes set his wand in motion. When a wave of exhaustion swept over him, it was nearly quarter to one and the bedroom was completely remodeled. It was, by far, the nicest room in the entire house, he thought sinking down into the quilted mattress and fresh linen sheets, the fluffy pillow cushioning his head soft like a cloud.
The walls were sporting a fresh yellow, the clean window dressed out in ocean blue curtains. The repaired desk and night table were standing solidly upon all four legs and polished to a shine, the floor boards smoothly polished and gleaming and covered in a plush area rug. He’d even been able to transfigure a beat up shoebox into a trendy-looking book case that currently displayed all of his school books from previous years, protected by several preservation charms and some strong Notice-Me-Not charms. The best, in his opinion, however, was the Muggle Repelling charm he’d placed on the door.
With any luck, his relatives might just ignore him for the rest of the summer!
It was only as he was drifting away into sleep that he thought of his Inheritance, or seemingly lack thereof. It was nice to not be in pain.
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-Wednesday, 2 July, Surrey-
Harry sat nervously on the steps to 4 Privet Drive, knee jiggling as he scanned up and down the street, waiting for a familiar figure. In his hands, he held the letter that had arrived last night from his surrogate god-father, Remus, stating that the older man would be around by 9 this morning to pick him up. It was only 8:40, but he couldn’t stand to wait any longer inside the house.
Apparently, neither could Remus because less than 5 minutes later, the deceptively mild mannered werewolf came strolling up the path, a knowing little smile crooked on his lips.
“I thought you might be ready early,” the elder man greeted as Harry shot up from the stoop.
“Remus!” the boy exclaimed joyfully, rushing up to him and engulfing the werewolf in a large hug which the wolf returned with an extra little squeeze and a quick little sniff. “So, where are we going?” he asked when they finally pulled away. “You didn’t say in your letter. Just to be ready by 9. What are we going to be doing?”
Remus laughed at Harry’s exuberance. “Well, first, I thought it’s about time you get to meet Sirius’s cousin—Andromeda Tonks nee Black.”
“Tonks?”
“Yep, she’s Tonks’s mum,” Remus confirmed. “The eldest of the three Black sisters. She’s a formidable woman, an unabashed Slytherin, and was pretty much Sirius’s favorite cousin after your father. So, do you have everything? Are you ready to go?”
“Ready and willing,” Harry confirmed, still grinning unrepentantly, snatching up his knapsack.
“Good. Then we’ll just head on back down to Figgy’s and use her floo.”
“What’s Tonks’s mum like? Is she anything like Tonks?” Harry wanted to know.
Remus snorted. “A typical Black lady is more like it,” he corrected. “Remember, this is the woman who one, defied her family and ran off to marry a muggle-born, and two, turned around and named her daughter ‘Nymphadora’.”
Harry snickered and returned Remus’s grin. “So why are we going to meet her now? Why not ever before?”
“Well, for one, there just never seemed to be the right time,” Remus explained, apologetically. “Last summer was, well, bad for everyone, and the summer before that—“ “Wasn’t much better, yeah, I get it,” Harry sighed, nodding. “So, what’s changed? Why now?”
“Now, because you’re going to be 17 this summer,” Remus grinned again, ruffling Harry’s already untidy hair. “A legal adult in our world. This means you’re going to have even more responsibilities. Andy knows this and basically told Dumbledore in no uncertain terms that she would be meeting with you regularly this summer to ensure you’re prepared.”
“Wait,” Harry paused. “Is she going to train me?”
Remus looked back at him. “Not in the manner I’m sure you’re hoping, but yes, she will be training you. Training you in lessons you should have been getting all along as the heir to a family line.” He turned back around and continued walking, trusting Harry to follow along. “In addition, I’ll be teaching you a few things this summer, too. I hope you’re ready to work.”
Harry whooped delightedly and chased after him.
***
Harry came stumbling out of the floo into the greeting room at Whitehorse Lane, still laughing. If Remus hadn’t have caught him, he would have tumbled onto the ground.
“Oh, my.”
“Wotcher, Harry, Remus,” Tonks’s familiar voice chirped. “Good to see you made it okay. The muggles not getting you down too much, are they, Harry?”
“Nah, it’s all good. Good to see you, Tonks,” Harry greeted with a big smile.
“So what was so funny?”
“Oh, just the way Mrs. Figg’s cats took to Remus,” Harry snorted and Tonks joined in at Remus’s bemused put-upon face.
“Nymphadora?” a smooth, cultured voice called their attention gently.
Harry started, startled by the surprising resemblance of the older woman. This is what Bellatrix would have looked like, he thought, if she hadn’t have spent all those years locked up in Azkaban.
She was… stunning. A real looker, for being an older woman and all. Even more refined looking that Mrs. Malfoy—and then he remembered the three women were all sisters.
“Ah, hello Mrs. Tonks,” Harry stumbled out a greeting, bypassing a literally steaming red Tonks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” the woman greeted. “Andromeda Tonks, Mr. Potter. You may call me ‘Andy’.”
“Then please, call me Harry,” he returned.
“There’s tea, in the drawing room. Shall we sit and have a cup?” the elder woman offered motioning up towards the stairs.
“Ah, sure,” he agreed, shooting a questioning look towards Tonks and Remus, who, he noticed, were standing awfully close to one another. Had the auror finally caught the wolf he wondered, following Andy up to the ground floor and into the drawing room. The couple followed a few short minutes behind, unerringly settling into their seats as ones long accustomed to their placement in a room. Harry wondered just how much time Remus had been spending at Whitehorse Lane recently.
“I have petitioned to Dumbledore, as your legal magical guardian for several years now,” Andy began once they were all seated with their tea, “for the right to instruct you in the manner in which you will be expected to perform. He has denied my requests under various flimsy excuses, but no longer. Mr. Potter, Harry, this summer you will be turning seventeen and thus become a legal wizard in our world, complete with all the rights and responsibilities that entails.”
Harry nodded. He was completely aware of when his birthday was and how old he would be turning this year. He was looking forward to it—to finally being able to perform magic outside of school without getting in trouble for it with the ministry.
“You are the heir to two very illustrious families, Harry,” Andy continued, calmly sipping her tea. “And as such, there are many important roles you will be expected to play within our society. I know, from speaking with Remus this past year, that no one has instructed you in these vital lessons. That is what we will be doing this summer.”
“Good luck,” Tonks piped in. “Mum’s a real taskmaster when it comes to all the p’s and q’s.”
“The what?” Harry gaped.
“Politics and etiquette, Harry,” Andy replied with a wicked expression. “Basically, everything you need to know to be a proper pureblooded lord; hopefully without most of the typical biases our society is rife with currently.”
***
Remus had been right in predicting Andromeda would be training Harry in subjects that he would have rather happily ignored. Tonks was equally as correct in referring to her mother as a taskmaster. Harry was whimpering and ready to cry defeat before the first hour was up. Before the end of the first day, he was all but begging Remus to take him away, and by the end of the first day he really was begging not to be forced back.
Remus, the traitor, just laughed at him and said he’d be around the same time tomorrow.
It was grueling. He honestly thought he would rather spend a potions lesson with Snape teaching than suffer through another one of Andromeda’s politics and etiquette classes. There were so many rules! He didn’t know how one was supposed to keep them all straight, and at different levels of society different rules applied and…. He never realized there were so many different ways to insult someone.
He grimaced, remembering—tomorrow Andy had promised to begin dancing lessons as well.
***
By the end of the month, Harry had grown accustomed to his lessons and even—though he would blatantly deny it—come to enjoy the time spent in Andromeda Tonks’s company. She was an intelligent woman with a sharp tongue and a wicked sense of humour. Under her tutelage Harry learned about what it meant to be a pureblood without the biased views of his godfather or his friends. He’d learned more about his family history—both the Blacks and the Potters—and he’d also been reminded just how interrelated the wizarding world was. He spent days tracing his family connections to half of his classmates, though his closest relation remained Draco Malfoy.
As if that wasn’t enough, when he wasn’t learning about his family history or the pureblood agenda/values, Edward Tonks, Andromeda’s husband who happened to be a litigator, had him learning about law and finance. He was able to make politics seem somewhat interesting by using stories from his own cases to explain the different laws and governing systems.
Several evenings a week he would stay for dinner with the Tonkses, and he thoroughly enjoyed his talks with Remus and Edward as they sat in the drawing room, playing a game of cards and listening to the news on the telly. He learned more about the world he was living in—muggle and magical—from those talks.
****
The first time when Remus wasn’t well enough to come by and collect Harry himself, Tonks showed up to collect him. He’d been surprised, before remembering the approaching full moon and just how jittery his honorary godfather had been the day before.
“You know,” he told Tonks as they made their way down to Mrs. Figg’s. “I’m quite capable of walking to Mrs. Figg’s house all on my own. I don’t need someone to pick me up every day.”
Tonks shot an amused grin at him. “It’s not like we’re babysitting you or anything,” she teased. “Remus and I know you’re capable of walking yourself down the street, Harry, but, well there’s a lot going on, really. Some of it has to do with your protection, wanting to keep you safe, sure. But, mostly, we just like spending a few quiet minutes one-on-one with you. Is that okay?”
“I suppose so, but wouldn’t you rather be spending those one-one-one moments with Remus,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows at her mockingly.
She laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Oh, don’t you worry about that.”
“So you’re an item, then?”
“For the most part, yeah. Not officially, of course. He hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend or anything so blatant, but we’ve gone out together on a few dates. Had a nice time together, stole a few kisses…”
“Ew! This is my honorary godfather you’re talking about here. That’s almost like talking about your parents.”
“Auh, it’s not that bad. I once walked in on my parents in the act one night when they’d forgotten to put a silencing charm up and woke me up. Now that was scarring.”
“Enough! Enough,” Harry laughed, trying to cover his ears.
“Yeah, so, things are going pretty all right with you and my mum? I know she can be a pretty hard ass about some of these rules and what not, but she really does mean well.”
“Yeah, I know, I kind of figured that out from the get go. It’ just… never cared to ever learn these things before, you know? And now, we’re trying to cram a whole fifteen years’ worth of learning into one or two months. It’s a bit much.”
“You’ll get it, Harry,” she encouraged, giving him a quick side hug. “Just remember to be your polite, charming self, and even if you make any mistakes, no one will care because of how wonderfully charming you are.”
“O, is that the secret to it, huh?”
“Yep,” Tonks chirped, grinning unreproachful at him and shooting him a saucy little wink before knocking cheerfully on the old squib’s door.
***
By the time his birthday rolled around, Harry felt like his head might just explode with all of the rules and manners and expectations Andromeda had spent the last month cramming into his skull. He was more than grateful to have an extra day off.
It had been a Thursday, and the moon was in first quarter, so Remus had been feeling especially well. Petunia was out at one of her ladies’ clubs, Dudley was running about with his friends, and Vernon was off at work, so Harry snuck Remus into Privet Drive and up to see the new alterations to his bedroom. Grinning, he swung the door wide and invited Remus in.
“Pretty good work, pup,” Remus praised, grinning and pulling Harry in for another hug. “So how does it feel to be all legal?”
“Great,” Harry breathed, practically bouncing where he stood. “I mean, I was a little nervous last night, but…” He shrugged and held out his arms. “I’m pretty okay except for some lack of sleep.”
Remus laughed. “That worried about your inheritance, eh. You should have said something. Tonks or I could’ve stayed over and kept you company or something.”
Harry shrugged. “No worries. Besides, I would’ve just kept you up with my nervousness. But it was all for nothing, right? I mean, I was kind of worried after hearing some of those tales. It would have been just my luck to grow scales or horns or something.”
Remus chuckled some more. “Well, as far as I’m aware, no one in your family line has ever grown scales. Horns—well, antlers, now that’s a different story. Come on. Let’s get over to Whitehorse so we can pick up the ladies. Andy mentioned wanting to stop at the bank first before shopping, and you still need to claim your legal inheritance.”
“Yea, work before play,” Harry cheered lackluster, sharing a somewhat droll grin with the older man.
*
Andromeda had promised to sit down with him throughout the month of August and make sense of the many portfolios the goblins had foisted off on Harry after he claimed his inheritance of the Potter and Black family accounts. He was very grateful for her help, too. At first, he wasn’t even sure where to begin… she merely handed him the first folder on the stack.
“Here,” she said, holding the folder out to him. “Open it. What does it say at the top?” she prompted.
And slowly, with her very calm and methodical way, they worked through first the Potter files and then the Black files, putting everything into order. He discovered that while it was an ancient family line, having lived in the isles since the early 7th century, the family accounts themselves were rather modest. The last few wars had left the family with mixed holdings in various states—some excellent stock selections expanding across both the magical and muggle markets, a respectable pile of gold, several vault full of family heirlooms, and two or three currently uninhabitable homes. The family manor was reportedly burnt down in ’77; the summer cottage in Godric’s Hollow was partially destroyed in ’81; and another plot of land was “misplaced”.
Comparatively, the Black accounts had numerous properties scattered up and down the island that were all marked as being in unknown condition. The accounts themselves, however, were mostly financially strapped with little stock and a decimated gold count. He was surprised to discover that Sirius’s personal vault held more gold in it than the main Black Family vault.
“Aunt Walburga, no doubt,” Andy sighed looking over the numbers. “Probably went straight into the coffers of the dark lord. Or else it’s stashed away in multiple spots. She hated goblins almost as much as she hated muggles and muggle-born. I always thought it was rather ironic that she lived the majority of her life surrounded by muggles in the middle of London, don’t you agree?”
*
As August rolled along, the Tonks’ and Remus helped Harry retrain his magic as it continued to fluctuate—the only noticeable effect of his inheritance. From simple everyday household charms (like the nifty packing spell Tonks had once told him about before) to impressive privacy wards, Harry had learned a ton of magic he never would have if not for the simple act of exposure to other witches and wizards. He’d made sure to keep a running list that he planned on giving to Hermione when he saw her again.
Harry steadily got better and better at those p’s and q’s. He continued his biweekly chats over cards with Edward Tonks. In the mornings and some afternoons, he would often visit with Andromeda. Sometimes, the witch would insist he accompany her to various parks and gardens, strolling along the lanes. These seemingly innocent strolls were rife with complex conversation and dialog. Other times, she would magic an old phonograph to play and command him to dance with her and make like he was enjoying himself. (Sometimes, he actually did.)
Throughout everything, she would continue to train him in how to be a young, independent wizarding lord and head of two families. She would quiz him on his goals—his hopes and dreams for the wizarding world, what steps he would take to achieve them, how others might react upon learning of his goals, how he would in turn respond to them. What would he do if goal was deemed unreasonable or unattainable? On and on she continued to grill and train him until the Wednesday before he was to leave to return to Hogwarts.
“You’re a smart young man,” Andromeda said fondly as they settled into the drawing room after their evening meal. “You have a good heart and a good head. Just remember to check both before you run off to save the world. We’re here for you, if you ever need someone to talk to or, well, whatever.”
Edward smiled and clasped her hand. “Why, my dear, I do believe that’s one of the nicest things you’ve said to the boy all summer.”
“Pah,” the elder woman huffed, eyeing her husband. “I’ve said plenty of ‘nice things’ to Harry, all summer long,” she corrected. “I always say ‘nice things’, it’s in my nature.”
Her husband just continued to smile, lifting her hand to his lips.