Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Meet the Blacks- Again
Disclaimer: Since writing is going slowly on my other stories, and because I found this idea interesting, I decided to expand on it. Call it the “Clell” method. So I took Ted Carroll’s idea (post 1878 on the 3 or 4 Part Harmony Yahoo! Group) and ran with it. A debt is owed to the HP Lexicon for identifying a major character. And an apology might be owed to South Africans everywhere, but for some reason I decided that was a good locale for Irma. If you want me to keep running with this, let me know.
General Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locations, and situations are owned by JK Rowling and her various publishers and other holders of legal rights. This is a non-commercial fan fiction. No profit is claimed by the author. The author claims the right to unique elements of this story, which may not be used without permission.
Ten days had passed since the Department of Mysteries battle, and two since its protagonists returned from Hogwarts. It was a somber Sunday for many people in the magical world.
Orders had gone out from Dumbledore to the Order of the Phoenix to protect Harry Potter, since “Voldemort will inevitably seek revenge for the arrest of so many members of his
inner circle,” as he explained to his own inner circle. By and large, they accepted this
as wise counsel, and he even managed to convince the goblins of Gringott’s not to send him
an invitation to the reading of Sirius’ will (with gold, of course). Dumbledore hoped that
giving Harry a little time to mourn alone would make him more pliable, so that he would
accept the plans that he had nearly finalized.
As will happen, however, a small detail was forgotten that would change the course of history. In this case, not only did Dumbledore’s plan fail for want of a nail, but that nail was missing from a horseshoe 5600 miles away.
**********
Irma Crabbe was not an imposing figure, to put it mildly. She had never stood more than five feet tall, and age and arthritis had bent her back and required her to use a cane when walking. She had always had a sweet tooth that she never hesitated to indulge, rendering her nearly as wide as she was tall. For all of that, however, she commanded respect when she walked down the streets of Guzzy Gully, the main magical neighborhood of Johannesburg, South Africa. She was known to be a potent witch and a friendly woman, even if she was a bit of a “Whenwe” sometimes about her family in Britain.
That morning, Irma woke early and didn’t know why. Her shop selling magical ingredients was on solid financial footing, none of her employees had called, and her muscles were acting up less than usual. After a few moments of confusion, she found the source of her unquiet- a large brown owl on her windowsill. Muttering to herself about the post, she removed the parchment from its talons and began to read it, only to stop short as tears began to flow down her cheeks.
The parchment was brief and read as follows:
Lady Crabbe:
It is our unfortunate duty to inform you that Sirius Black has passed away, and that you have been named in his will. We hope that you can attend the reading of his will, to be conducted on June 30th at twelve o’clock noon, at the Gringott’s Central Headquarters in London.
Our condolences for your loss.
Sincerely,
Salbok, Assistant Chief Bequest Manager
If it is sorrowful to outlive your children, it can only be more so to be invited to the reading of your last grandson’s will. After a few minutes of weeping, however, Irma pulled herself together and started to pack. ‘Those goblins would give me as little warning as possible,’ she thought, ‘but I should be able to explain my leave this morning before I have to start jumping across Africa and Europe.’
**********
It was a small and mostly somber crowd that assembled at Gringott’s as noon approached that Tuesday. The attendees included Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy, the only people present who seemed to be enjoying themselves; Remus Lupin, pale and drawn as the realization that he was the sole surviving Marauder had set in; Hermione Granger, who had received special permission from her parents to attend the will reading of her not-quite-a-boyfriend’s godfather; Luna Lovegood and her father, almost unrecognizable in unadorned black without their usual fashion statements; and Salbok and two other goblins doing their duty as they had done so often before.
“Why are you here, Lucius? I understand you ran into some… trouble at the Ministry a couple of weeks ago,” Remus noted.
“I am here because I was invited by the Goblins, just like you,” Lucius drawled. “Gringott’s, like all Goblin territory, does not recognize the petty complaints of the Ministry of Magic.”
“What do we get?” Draco asked again.
“Have a little respect for the dead,” Remus admonished quietly.
“I show him the respect he deserves, fuzzy,” Draco retorted. “Now when do you get going?” he snapped at Salbok.
“When all of the people who have signaled their attendance arrive,” Salbok responded patiently. ‘The kid’s a brat,’ he thought, ‘but I’ve seen worse. Not many, but worse.’
“How many more must we wait for before you proceed?” Lucius inquired more smoothly.
“Only one more, Mr. Malfoy,” Salbok responded. “She has traveled a long way to come here, but I am reliably informed that her Portkey has arrived in London a few minutes ago.”
Draco crossed his arms. “I just want to get what we have coming,” Draco sulked.
“Can you tell us what we are owed, at least?” Narcissa asked.
“Sorry if I’m late,” huffed a voice from the door. “Alley’s just as crowded as I remembered.”
With that, Irma hobbled into the room, sweating from her exertions. “I wish you’d provided a bit more notice,” she wheezed at the goblins. “Am I the last person you need?”
“You are, Lady Crabbe,” Salbok responded smoothly. At that point, one of his assistants handed him a piece of parchment.
“And who the devil are you?” Irma snapped at Lucius.
“I happen to be the husband of your granddaughter, in case you had forgotten,” Lucius said coldly.
“That’s not my granddaughter,” Irma responded. That got everyone’s attention, even as a cloud began to arise from the center of the room where the parchment had been placed.
“I’m sorry that your memory is so faulty, but Narcissa here is the daughter of-“ Lucius was interrupted.
“I know who Narcissa is, you fool,” Irma retorted. “And that is not Narcissa Black!”
Just as the assembled Malfoys began their counterargument, the cloud over the table, which had now assumed a smoky form of Sirius Black, began to speak.
“Ladies, gentlemen, goblins. Well, I guess this is it- my last will and testament. I’m a man of few words these days, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I get right to the point.” The cloud rotated in place until Irma came into view. “Hello, Grandma. I’m glad to see you again. I’ve always wanted to talk to you once more, but time and events just wouldn’t let me.” The cloud rotated to bring Hermione and the Lovegoods into its range of vision. “Harry spoke highly of you, young ladies. I hope that he’s well, but where is he?”
“He must not have gotten your parchment. I suspect Nargles,” Luna said quietly as the Malfoys chortled.
“That sounds… reasonable,” Hermione agreed, although nargles were not the interference she had in mind.
“Remus, my old friend. You’ve got a great responsibility as the last of us Marauders, to bring more chaos into a world that needs a little shaking up,” the cloudy Sirius continued. Remus only gulped in reply.
“Anyway, I know why some of you are here, and it is my proud duty to inform Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy that they shall receive more than they could possibly deserve from me- nothing.”
“But, but, what about-“ Lucius was sputtering, but Sirius had already moved on.
“Grandma, I did not really expect you to come back to Britain. I didn’t blame you, and I understand why you left, but I’m afraid that I didn’t really leave you anything- but you can have this parchment. In fact,” Sirius said, so quietly that the ranting Malfoys couldn’t hear, “I insist on it, and hope that you will visit my godson Harry Potter. I must speak with him about your secret.” Irma’s eyes went wide, but she nodded.
The ghostly Sirius again turned to face the girls. “Hermione and Luna, for being such good friends of my godson, for supporting him through fair weather and foul, I grant each of you twenty-five thousand Galleons- not enough to retire on, but enough to serve as a token of my appreciation and to see you through any hard times that may come in the next little while.”
“Remus, my old friend, you will receive the same sum. Enjoy yourself, I insist, just for a few days! Get some new clothes. Find a girl- there are plenty out there who enjoy living a little dangerously, if you know what I mean. Don’t let me add to your worries, please,” Sirius continued.
“The rest of my bequests are to people whom I don’t see, so I will speak to them when I see them.” With that, the smoke began to funnel back into the parchment.
“This will reading is at an end, for the moment. As per the instructions, the Lady Crabbe will be allowed to retain the physical document until all beneficiaries are notified,” Salbok said as if reciting something he’d said a hundred times over, which he had. He and his assistants departed the room.
“How can you possibly say that this is not Narcissa, you crone?” Lucius demanded, stepping toward the old, bent woman.
In response, Irma raised her wand, sending a shower of sparks flying onto Lucius’ robes. “Because I saw Narcissa on the day she was born and for the next eighteen years,” she insisted. “This is absolutely not Narcissa Black. If she were, she’d have a birthmark on her right heel. And she was prettier than this woman, without those wrinkles on her forehead. And most of all, she’d have recognized me by now!”
All eyes turned toward Narcissa. “Hello, dear… er, Grandma…” she stuttered.
“See? She has no idea who I am! Now,” she said while addressing the others present, “Can one of you please bring me and the parchment to Harry Potter? I have to speak to him.”
**********
It was a muggy, hot afternoon in the suburbs of London, and Harry Potter was easy to recognize- he was the only person in sight, digging in the garden to transplant a rosebush. Except for one brief lunch break, he had been working since daybreak, and his shirt and shorts were soaked through with sweat.
In a way, Harry was grateful for the work. It gave him something to think about other than the battle. He was still thinking about every second of it, wondering what else he should have said or should have done to keep himself from falling into the trap, or his friends from getting hurt, or…
“Is that him?” Irma inquired as the car turned onto Privet Drive.
“Yes, it is,” responded Danielle Granger. She had been downtown to visit some friends while Hermione went about her business, and was happy to drive her daughter and her friends to visit Harry.
“He looks awfully hot and sweaty,” Remus pondered. The girls, looking at the body that Harry’s clothes were plastered to, agreed- especially to the first four words.
“I’ll get the air conditioning going full blast in the back seat,” called Mrs. Granger. “Is that all right?”
“Yes,” called Hermione and Luna. Both were feeling rather chilly, but they expected that they’d feel warmer soon enough. With that, the car stopped opposite 4 Privet Drive, and Danielle helped Remus roll down the window.
“Harry, could you come in here, please? We’ve got to talk to you!” called Remus.
“Did Dumbledore send you?” Harry said, his anger starting to flare up.
“No! He doesn’t know we’re here!” Remus yelled.
“Alright,” Harry muttered, and went over to enter the car’s back seat. He saw Hermione and Luna, and his anger started to dissipate. He got in, seating himself next to Hermione.
“Are the two of you alright?” Harry asked anxiously.
“I’m still a few days from recovering, Harry, but I’m feeling better now,” Hermione responded. It was true- although she still needed daily potions, Harry’s touch really did make the pain in her chest recede.
“Very good, thank you, Harry,” Luna said as the car pulled away.
“Who is she? Not someone from the Order, right?” Harry said, noticing the woman in the middle of the front seat.
“I don’t know what this Order is. Are you Harry, Sirius’ godson?” the woman asked in an accent that Harry couldn’t quite place.
“Yes, ma’am. Who are you?” Harry replied.
“My name is Irma Crabbe, Harry. I am Sirius’ grandmother, and I’m very glad to see you. I must speak to you about many things, my dear,” she continued.
**********
By the time that they arrived in the rundown neighborhood of Grimmauld Place, Harry had told Irma about his experiences with the other Crabbes (‘Not directly, but they sound like they came from my uncle’s side of the family. I never liked them much,’ Irma replied), the Muggles (‘I’m sorry they’ve been so mean to you. Where I’ve lived, I’ve seen some of their best and their worst, and I’ve seen good prevail in my country when it seemed impossible’), and the will reading (‘I couldn’t tell you anything except that Sirius is anxious to talk to you’). Hermione, meanwhile, persuaded her mother that, with Remus and Irma present, she could be allowed to stay over for a night. She surprised everyone but her mother by pulling a bag of clothes and her medicine from the boot (‘She was really hoping to see you, Harry,’ Danielle explained).
Twelve Grimmauld Place looked a lot better than it had the first time Harry had seen it, but he seemed to picture it as deserted again without Sirius. Before he could sink too far into his own thoughts, however, Irma pulled him aside and down a hall he hadn’t been down before. Hermione and Luna followed.
“I need to talk to you in a private place, Harry. More to the point, Sirius does, too. Will you please let us? You’re going to see and hear some strange things,” Irma said seriously.
Harry was still a bit nervous, but with his friends beside him, he nodded his head. With that, Irma opened the parchment and Sirius reappeared.
“Harry, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve got to tell you some important things. I know you’ll have some trouble believing them, but I beg you to trust me,” Sirius pleaded, as earnestly as Harry had ever heard him.
“Alright, Sirius,” Harry replied. Hermione and Luna each placed a hand on his.
“First, and this is the least important thing, I’m leaving you most of the money in the Black vaults. About three hundred thousand Galleons, all told. Not very much compared to what you have, but I can think of no better heir for my money.” Harry nodded.
“Second, you are now the Lord Black, for various magical purposes. There’s no ring, or if
there is, I don’t know where it is. That makes you the owner of 12 Grimmauld Place and its
master.” Harry nodded again.
“Third, I don’t trust the Weasleys. I never have. Their family has always been trying to pull things over to get more money, at least since I was a boy. I remember overhearing some of their conversations over the last few months, when they’ve visited here. They tell Dumbledore everything you do, and have done for the last two years at least. They plan to have Ginny marry you someday, and are planning to do something to bring that about this summer. I don’t know what exactly, but I don’t trust them.”
Harry really didn’t know how to answer that one, but Hermione did. “I believe him, Harry. In the month before you came here last summer, they were always going off for quiet talks with Dumbledore. I’m sure he promised them something- why else would they suddenly seem so much more confident when they saw you? They expect something from you.”
“Lastly, Harry, I have one more thing to tell you. Don’t hate Bella,” Sirius continued.
“But she- she killed you!” Harry yelled.
“No, she didn’t. I do know how I died, Harry, and Bella didn’t kill me,” Sirius calmly responded.
“She fired that spell that sent you through the veil!” Harry cried, and Hermione and Luna both said “Yeah!” right behind him.
“No, she didn’t, Harry. There is a secret that you need to know. I’m so glad that Grandma can tell you about it,” Sirius said, turning toward Irma. “Farewell, Harry.” With that the cloud dispersed.
Irma stood up. That wasn’t an impressive move, as with her bent back and stick she was actually a bit shorter than while seated. But she got their attention.
“What I am about to show you requires the Lord Black, and must be kept an absolute secret. Harry seems to trust the two of you. Do you trust me?” Irma asked. Both of the girls nodded.
“Follow me, then.” With that, Irma led them down a maze of corridors until they came to what looked like an old freight elevator, with no car present. Irma waved her wand in a complex pattern.
“Have you ever wondered why Sirius’ mother looks so old in her portrait? After all, she
wasn’t that old when she passed away, and witches can usually look younger than they really are,” Irma asked, as they waited at the elevator door and a grinding started.
“That did seem awfully strange,” said Hermione. Luna made no reply.
“Well, it has to do with her cousins, Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. It seems that the three of them were all planning to marry Muggles or Muggleborns once upon a time,” Irma
explained.
The teenagers’ jaws dropped in shock. Even with their brief exposure to Narcissa and Bellatrix, it seemed impossible to imagine either marrying a Muggle.
“This was back in, oh, ’73 or ’74 it must have been. Cygnus was utterly furious- he was their father- and so was Sirius’ and Regulus’ mother, Walburga. Who’d have thought my own children would treat me this way?” she spat. “They had friends in the Department of Mysteries who were Death Eaters already, and wanted to help them. Two of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen- losing them to some beasts was unthinkable. That’s really how they thought of Muggles,” Irma explained, growing angrier as she spoke.
“I was only able to contact Andromeda in time, and she and Ted Tonks eloped in the middle of the night. Bella and Narcy- she hated being called Sissy, said it was a baby name,” Irma mused, eyes misting over briefly. “They weren’t so lucky. One day, Cygnus stunned the two of them and dragged them down here.”
As Irma told her tale, an elevator car arrived. It was an old and shaky-looking car, with no ceiling and a bare light bulb floating above it. “It’s safer than it looks, kids. And if something goes wrong, I’m not a bad witch even if I say so.” With that, she levitated the table they had been talking around without effort. That and their growing curiosity was enough to convince Harry, Hermione, and Luna to board the car, which began to slowly descend.
“Their friends in the Department of Mysteries had found a way to create new physical bodies just like those of ordinary people. Are you familiar with Polyjuice Potion?”
“Yes,” all three of them responded. ‘She didn’t have to know how familiar,’ they all thought.
“Well, if you get an egg or sperm cells from the person you’re changing into, and you use the right formulas and spells, you can make the change permanent, apparently. What’s more, you can use a new body to control. It’s not quite creating life- there’s no real thought happening, no intellect, just following instructions. It’s like those things… what do you call them, I remember seeing them in movies,” Irma said losing her train of thought slightly. “Those things that always seem to eat brains.”
“Zombies?” asked Hermione.
“That’s it,” Irma replied. “That’s what some people call them. Others call them, um, Inferi. But that’s what you get, monsters that look like people. It drew heavily on both Cygnus’ and Walburga’s magic- that’s why they aged so fast and died so young. And I was afraid of what they’d do to me since I knew. So I left,” Irma concluded, voice dropping.
“Where did you go?” asked Luna, quietly.
“South Africa. I wanted to go far, far away- but I couldn’t speak any other languages. Not very brave of me, I know, but…” Irma tailed off as the elevator reached its destination with a clank.
The three teenagers didn’t know what to say, but patted and then held Irma’s hands as they
slowly moved toward a huge iron door.
“What you’re going to see behind this door- well, it makes me sick to think of it. Even now. I’ve only seen it once, but I’ll never forget it,” Irma said shakily. They reached the door. “Harry, I mean, Lord Black, only you can open the door.”
“How?” Harry whispered.
“Just tell it to open for you,” Irma said, very slowly.
Harry said, “Open,” and the door ground upwards. Irma couldn’t walk forward, but the teenagers did.
The room in front of them was well-lit, with equipment that Hermione recognized as looking very much like modern medical equipment, even though no wires or tubes seemed to connect them to the two figures in the center of the room.
One of the figures was a young woman, seemingly in her early twenties. Her hair was long and black. Lying naked and facing upwards, her tall body looked very strong and graceful. Her face was beautiful and almost regal in appearance, although the eyes were closed. Her
sizable chest moved gently up and down as she breathed. Looking over her carefully, the three of them saw a tiny scar not far from her shaved vagina- presumably where an egg could be removed from her ovary.
The other figure was another lady, who appeared to be a few years younger than the black-haired woman. Except for blonde hair and a slightly less voluptuous figure, she looked very similar to the other woman, complete with the small scar.
“Young man, young women,” Irma said, hobbling behind them, “these are two women that no one has seen in at least ten years. Bellatrix and Narcissa Black.”
General Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locations, and situations are owned by JK Rowling and her various publishers and other holders of legal rights. This is a non-commercial fan fiction. No profit is claimed by the author. The author claims the right to unique elements of this story, which may not be used without permission.
Ten days had passed since the Department of Mysteries battle, and two since its protagonists returned from Hogwarts. It was a somber Sunday for many people in the magical world.
Orders had gone out from Dumbledore to the Order of the Phoenix to protect Harry Potter, since “Voldemort will inevitably seek revenge for the arrest of so many members of his
inner circle,” as he explained to his own inner circle. By and large, they accepted this
as wise counsel, and he even managed to convince the goblins of Gringott’s not to send him
an invitation to the reading of Sirius’ will (with gold, of course). Dumbledore hoped that
giving Harry a little time to mourn alone would make him more pliable, so that he would
accept the plans that he had nearly finalized.
As will happen, however, a small detail was forgotten that would change the course of history. In this case, not only did Dumbledore’s plan fail for want of a nail, but that nail was missing from a horseshoe 5600 miles away.
**********
Irma Crabbe was not an imposing figure, to put it mildly. She had never stood more than five feet tall, and age and arthritis had bent her back and required her to use a cane when walking. She had always had a sweet tooth that she never hesitated to indulge, rendering her nearly as wide as she was tall. For all of that, however, she commanded respect when she walked down the streets of Guzzy Gully, the main magical neighborhood of Johannesburg, South Africa. She was known to be a potent witch and a friendly woman, even if she was a bit of a “Whenwe” sometimes about her family in Britain.
That morning, Irma woke early and didn’t know why. Her shop selling magical ingredients was on solid financial footing, none of her employees had called, and her muscles were acting up less than usual. After a few moments of confusion, she found the source of her unquiet- a large brown owl on her windowsill. Muttering to herself about the post, she removed the parchment from its talons and began to read it, only to stop short as tears began to flow down her cheeks.
The parchment was brief and read as follows:
Lady Crabbe:
It is our unfortunate duty to inform you that Sirius Black has passed away, and that you have been named in his will. We hope that you can attend the reading of his will, to be conducted on June 30th at twelve o’clock noon, at the Gringott’s Central Headquarters in London.
Our condolences for your loss.
Sincerely,
Salbok, Assistant Chief Bequest Manager
If it is sorrowful to outlive your children, it can only be more so to be invited to the reading of your last grandson’s will. After a few minutes of weeping, however, Irma pulled herself together and started to pack. ‘Those goblins would give me as little warning as possible,’ she thought, ‘but I should be able to explain my leave this morning before I have to start jumping across Africa and Europe.’
**********
It was a small and mostly somber crowd that assembled at Gringott’s as noon approached that Tuesday. The attendees included Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy, the only people present who seemed to be enjoying themselves; Remus Lupin, pale and drawn as the realization that he was the sole surviving Marauder had set in; Hermione Granger, who had received special permission from her parents to attend the will reading of her not-quite-a-boyfriend’s godfather; Luna Lovegood and her father, almost unrecognizable in unadorned black without their usual fashion statements; and Salbok and two other goblins doing their duty as they had done so often before.
“Why are you here, Lucius? I understand you ran into some… trouble at the Ministry a couple of weeks ago,” Remus noted.
“I am here because I was invited by the Goblins, just like you,” Lucius drawled. “Gringott’s, like all Goblin territory, does not recognize the petty complaints of the Ministry of Magic.”
“What do we get?” Draco asked again.
“Have a little respect for the dead,” Remus admonished quietly.
“I show him the respect he deserves, fuzzy,” Draco retorted. “Now when do you get going?” he snapped at Salbok.
“When all of the people who have signaled their attendance arrive,” Salbok responded patiently. ‘The kid’s a brat,’ he thought, ‘but I’ve seen worse. Not many, but worse.’
“How many more must we wait for before you proceed?” Lucius inquired more smoothly.
“Only one more, Mr. Malfoy,” Salbok responded. “She has traveled a long way to come here, but I am reliably informed that her Portkey has arrived in London a few minutes ago.”
Draco crossed his arms. “I just want to get what we have coming,” Draco sulked.
“Can you tell us what we are owed, at least?” Narcissa asked.
“Sorry if I’m late,” huffed a voice from the door. “Alley’s just as crowded as I remembered.”
With that, Irma hobbled into the room, sweating from her exertions. “I wish you’d provided a bit more notice,” she wheezed at the goblins. “Am I the last person you need?”
“You are, Lady Crabbe,” Salbok responded smoothly. At that point, one of his assistants handed him a piece of parchment.
“And who the devil are you?” Irma snapped at Lucius.
“I happen to be the husband of your granddaughter, in case you had forgotten,” Lucius said coldly.
“That’s not my granddaughter,” Irma responded. That got everyone’s attention, even as a cloud began to arise from the center of the room where the parchment had been placed.
“I’m sorry that your memory is so faulty, but Narcissa here is the daughter of-“ Lucius was interrupted.
“I know who Narcissa is, you fool,” Irma retorted. “And that is not Narcissa Black!”
Just as the assembled Malfoys began their counterargument, the cloud over the table, which had now assumed a smoky form of Sirius Black, began to speak.
“Ladies, gentlemen, goblins. Well, I guess this is it- my last will and testament. I’m a man of few words these days, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I get right to the point.” The cloud rotated in place until Irma came into view. “Hello, Grandma. I’m glad to see you again. I’ve always wanted to talk to you once more, but time and events just wouldn’t let me.” The cloud rotated to bring Hermione and the Lovegoods into its range of vision. “Harry spoke highly of you, young ladies. I hope that he’s well, but where is he?”
“He must not have gotten your parchment. I suspect Nargles,” Luna said quietly as the Malfoys chortled.
“That sounds… reasonable,” Hermione agreed, although nargles were not the interference she had in mind.
“Remus, my old friend. You’ve got a great responsibility as the last of us Marauders, to bring more chaos into a world that needs a little shaking up,” the cloudy Sirius continued. Remus only gulped in reply.
“Anyway, I know why some of you are here, and it is my proud duty to inform Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy that they shall receive more than they could possibly deserve from me- nothing.”
“But, but, what about-“ Lucius was sputtering, but Sirius had already moved on.
“Grandma, I did not really expect you to come back to Britain. I didn’t blame you, and I understand why you left, but I’m afraid that I didn’t really leave you anything- but you can have this parchment. In fact,” Sirius said, so quietly that the ranting Malfoys couldn’t hear, “I insist on it, and hope that you will visit my godson Harry Potter. I must speak with him about your secret.” Irma’s eyes went wide, but she nodded.
The ghostly Sirius again turned to face the girls. “Hermione and Luna, for being such good friends of my godson, for supporting him through fair weather and foul, I grant each of you twenty-five thousand Galleons- not enough to retire on, but enough to serve as a token of my appreciation and to see you through any hard times that may come in the next little while.”
“Remus, my old friend, you will receive the same sum. Enjoy yourself, I insist, just for a few days! Get some new clothes. Find a girl- there are plenty out there who enjoy living a little dangerously, if you know what I mean. Don’t let me add to your worries, please,” Sirius continued.
“The rest of my bequests are to people whom I don’t see, so I will speak to them when I see them.” With that, the smoke began to funnel back into the parchment.
“This will reading is at an end, for the moment. As per the instructions, the Lady Crabbe will be allowed to retain the physical document until all beneficiaries are notified,” Salbok said as if reciting something he’d said a hundred times over, which he had. He and his assistants departed the room.
“How can you possibly say that this is not Narcissa, you crone?” Lucius demanded, stepping toward the old, bent woman.
In response, Irma raised her wand, sending a shower of sparks flying onto Lucius’ robes. “Because I saw Narcissa on the day she was born and for the next eighteen years,” she insisted. “This is absolutely not Narcissa Black. If she were, she’d have a birthmark on her right heel. And she was prettier than this woman, without those wrinkles on her forehead. And most of all, she’d have recognized me by now!”
All eyes turned toward Narcissa. “Hello, dear… er, Grandma…” she stuttered.
“See? She has no idea who I am! Now,” she said while addressing the others present, “Can one of you please bring me and the parchment to Harry Potter? I have to speak to him.”
**********
It was a muggy, hot afternoon in the suburbs of London, and Harry Potter was easy to recognize- he was the only person in sight, digging in the garden to transplant a rosebush. Except for one brief lunch break, he had been working since daybreak, and his shirt and shorts were soaked through with sweat.
In a way, Harry was grateful for the work. It gave him something to think about other than the battle. He was still thinking about every second of it, wondering what else he should have said or should have done to keep himself from falling into the trap, or his friends from getting hurt, or…
“Is that him?” Irma inquired as the car turned onto Privet Drive.
“Yes, it is,” responded Danielle Granger. She had been downtown to visit some friends while Hermione went about her business, and was happy to drive her daughter and her friends to visit Harry.
“He looks awfully hot and sweaty,” Remus pondered. The girls, looking at the body that Harry’s clothes were plastered to, agreed- especially to the first four words.
“I’ll get the air conditioning going full blast in the back seat,” called Mrs. Granger. “Is that all right?”
“Yes,” called Hermione and Luna. Both were feeling rather chilly, but they expected that they’d feel warmer soon enough. With that, the car stopped opposite 4 Privet Drive, and Danielle helped Remus roll down the window.
“Harry, could you come in here, please? We’ve got to talk to you!” called Remus.
“Did Dumbledore send you?” Harry said, his anger starting to flare up.
“No! He doesn’t know we’re here!” Remus yelled.
“Alright,” Harry muttered, and went over to enter the car’s back seat. He saw Hermione and Luna, and his anger started to dissipate. He got in, seating himself next to Hermione.
“Are the two of you alright?” Harry asked anxiously.
“I’m still a few days from recovering, Harry, but I’m feeling better now,” Hermione responded. It was true- although she still needed daily potions, Harry’s touch really did make the pain in her chest recede.
“Very good, thank you, Harry,” Luna said as the car pulled away.
“Who is she? Not someone from the Order, right?” Harry said, noticing the woman in the middle of the front seat.
“I don’t know what this Order is. Are you Harry, Sirius’ godson?” the woman asked in an accent that Harry couldn’t quite place.
“Yes, ma’am. Who are you?” Harry replied.
“My name is Irma Crabbe, Harry. I am Sirius’ grandmother, and I’m very glad to see you. I must speak to you about many things, my dear,” she continued.
**********
By the time that they arrived in the rundown neighborhood of Grimmauld Place, Harry had told Irma about his experiences with the other Crabbes (‘Not directly, but they sound like they came from my uncle’s side of the family. I never liked them much,’ Irma replied), the Muggles (‘I’m sorry they’ve been so mean to you. Where I’ve lived, I’ve seen some of their best and their worst, and I’ve seen good prevail in my country when it seemed impossible’), and the will reading (‘I couldn’t tell you anything except that Sirius is anxious to talk to you’). Hermione, meanwhile, persuaded her mother that, with Remus and Irma present, she could be allowed to stay over for a night. She surprised everyone but her mother by pulling a bag of clothes and her medicine from the boot (‘She was really hoping to see you, Harry,’ Danielle explained).
Twelve Grimmauld Place looked a lot better than it had the first time Harry had seen it, but he seemed to picture it as deserted again without Sirius. Before he could sink too far into his own thoughts, however, Irma pulled him aside and down a hall he hadn’t been down before. Hermione and Luna followed.
“I need to talk to you in a private place, Harry. More to the point, Sirius does, too. Will you please let us? You’re going to see and hear some strange things,” Irma said seriously.
Harry was still a bit nervous, but with his friends beside him, he nodded his head. With that, Irma opened the parchment and Sirius reappeared.
“Harry, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve got to tell you some important things. I know you’ll have some trouble believing them, but I beg you to trust me,” Sirius pleaded, as earnestly as Harry had ever heard him.
“Alright, Sirius,” Harry replied. Hermione and Luna each placed a hand on his.
“First, and this is the least important thing, I’m leaving you most of the money in the Black vaults. About three hundred thousand Galleons, all told. Not very much compared to what you have, but I can think of no better heir for my money.” Harry nodded.
“Second, you are now the Lord Black, for various magical purposes. There’s no ring, or if
there is, I don’t know where it is. That makes you the owner of 12 Grimmauld Place and its
master.” Harry nodded again.
“Third, I don’t trust the Weasleys. I never have. Their family has always been trying to pull things over to get more money, at least since I was a boy. I remember overhearing some of their conversations over the last few months, when they’ve visited here. They tell Dumbledore everything you do, and have done for the last two years at least. They plan to have Ginny marry you someday, and are planning to do something to bring that about this summer. I don’t know what exactly, but I don’t trust them.”
Harry really didn’t know how to answer that one, but Hermione did. “I believe him, Harry. In the month before you came here last summer, they were always going off for quiet talks with Dumbledore. I’m sure he promised them something- why else would they suddenly seem so much more confident when they saw you? They expect something from you.”
“Lastly, Harry, I have one more thing to tell you. Don’t hate Bella,” Sirius continued.
“But she- she killed you!” Harry yelled.
“No, she didn’t. I do know how I died, Harry, and Bella didn’t kill me,” Sirius calmly responded.
“She fired that spell that sent you through the veil!” Harry cried, and Hermione and Luna both said “Yeah!” right behind him.
“No, she didn’t, Harry. There is a secret that you need to know. I’m so glad that Grandma can tell you about it,” Sirius said, turning toward Irma. “Farewell, Harry.” With that the cloud dispersed.
Irma stood up. That wasn’t an impressive move, as with her bent back and stick she was actually a bit shorter than while seated. But she got their attention.
“What I am about to show you requires the Lord Black, and must be kept an absolute secret. Harry seems to trust the two of you. Do you trust me?” Irma asked. Both of the girls nodded.
“Follow me, then.” With that, Irma led them down a maze of corridors until they came to what looked like an old freight elevator, with no car present. Irma waved her wand in a complex pattern.
“Have you ever wondered why Sirius’ mother looks so old in her portrait? After all, she
wasn’t that old when she passed away, and witches can usually look younger than they really are,” Irma asked, as they waited at the elevator door and a grinding started.
“That did seem awfully strange,” said Hermione. Luna made no reply.
“Well, it has to do with her cousins, Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. It seems that the three of them were all planning to marry Muggles or Muggleborns once upon a time,” Irma
explained.
The teenagers’ jaws dropped in shock. Even with their brief exposure to Narcissa and Bellatrix, it seemed impossible to imagine either marrying a Muggle.
“This was back in, oh, ’73 or ’74 it must have been. Cygnus was utterly furious- he was their father- and so was Sirius’ and Regulus’ mother, Walburga. Who’d have thought my own children would treat me this way?” she spat. “They had friends in the Department of Mysteries who were Death Eaters already, and wanted to help them. Two of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen- losing them to some beasts was unthinkable. That’s really how they thought of Muggles,” Irma explained, growing angrier as she spoke.
“I was only able to contact Andromeda in time, and she and Ted Tonks eloped in the middle of the night. Bella and Narcy- she hated being called Sissy, said it was a baby name,” Irma mused, eyes misting over briefly. “They weren’t so lucky. One day, Cygnus stunned the two of them and dragged them down here.”
As Irma told her tale, an elevator car arrived. It was an old and shaky-looking car, with no ceiling and a bare light bulb floating above it. “It’s safer than it looks, kids. And if something goes wrong, I’m not a bad witch even if I say so.” With that, she levitated the table they had been talking around without effort. That and their growing curiosity was enough to convince Harry, Hermione, and Luna to board the car, which began to slowly descend.
“Their friends in the Department of Mysteries had found a way to create new physical bodies just like those of ordinary people. Are you familiar with Polyjuice Potion?”
“Yes,” all three of them responded. ‘She didn’t have to know how familiar,’ they all thought.
“Well, if you get an egg or sperm cells from the person you’re changing into, and you use the right formulas and spells, you can make the change permanent, apparently. What’s more, you can use a new body to control. It’s not quite creating life- there’s no real thought happening, no intellect, just following instructions. It’s like those things… what do you call them, I remember seeing them in movies,” Irma said losing her train of thought slightly. “Those things that always seem to eat brains.”
“Zombies?” asked Hermione.
“That’s it,” Irma replied. “That’s what some people call them. Others call them, um, Inferi. But that’s what you get, monsters that look like people. It drew heavily on both Cygnus’ and Walburga’s magic- that’s why they aged so fast and died so young. And I was afraid of what they’d do to me since I knew. So I left,” Irma concluded, voice dropping.
“Where did you go?” asked Luna, quietly.
“South Africa. I wanted to go far, far away- but I couldn’t speak any other languages. Not very brave of me, I know, but…” Irma tailed off as the elevator reached its destination with a clank.
The three teenagers didn’t know what to say, but patted and then held Irma’s hands as they
slowly moved toward a huge iron door.
“What you’re going to see behind this door- well, it makes me sick to think of it. Even now. I’ve only seen it once, but I’ll never forget it,” Irma said shakily. They reached the door. “Harry, I mean, Lord Black, only you can open the door.”
“How?” Harry whispered.
“Just tell it to open for you,” Irma said, very slowly.
Harry said, “Open,” and the door ground upwards. Irma couldn’t walk forward, but the teenagers did.
The room in front of them was well-lit, with equipment that Hermione recognized as looking very much like modern medical equipment, even though no wires or tubes seemed to connect them to the two figures in the center of the room.
One of the figures was a young woman, seemingly in her early twenties. Her hair was long and black. Lying naked and facing upwards, her tall body looked very strong and graceful. Her face was beautiful and almost regal in appearance, although the eyes were closed. Her
sizable chest moved gently up and down as she breathed. Looking over her carefully, the three of them saw a tiny scar not far from her shaved vagina- presumably where an egg could be removed from her ovary.
The other figure was another lady, who appeared to be a few years younger than the black-haired woman. Except for blonde hair and a slightly less voluptuous figure, she looked very similar to the other woman, complete with the small scar.
“Young man, young women,” Irma said, hobbling behind them, “these are two women that no one has seen in at least ten years. Bellatrix and Narcissa Black.”
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