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Lord Potter's Own Will | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 26 Summary: REPOSTED Harry is now Lord Potter, and he decides to use his new found Independence to set the course of his life. Hitcount: Story Total: 26165; Chapter Total: 2716 Author's Notes: Harry finally meets the portraits, and a few others, when he finally goes home -- Potter Manor. |
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Chapter 4: Gwir (Welsh)/ Truth (Modern English) Potter Estate, Near Bingley, West Yorkshire Sirius and Remus had told Harry he'd be visiting the Potter Estate, he didn't realise it meant anything quite this large. Standing in the foyer, he looked around at the opulence. The marble floors and mahogany staircase, the crystal wall sconces and the deep blue velvet drapes. Looking up, he saw at least three more floors and an enormous stained glass dome with a potter's wheel identical to his tattoo. "How big is this house?" Harry muttered, not sure if anyone heard him. "The main house here is just under ten thousand square feet," a squeaky male voice said. Harry looked down to see a house-elf. He was exceptionally clean, well dressed in a small suit and his hair appeared to be combed. After only being exposed to Kreacher and Dobby, this elf was a pleasant surprise. "However, the north wing should be reincorporated into the house, which will nearly double the size." "Double the size?" Harry continued to mumble. "Yes, sir. There is also the hunting lodge, which is fully functional and about two miles from the main house here. The farmhouse is on the other side of the property, adjacent to the barns and paddock for the livestock. All told, we can comfortably house fifty to sixty witches or wizards." "Are there any other buildings I should know about?" The look on Harry's face was priceless, one of befuddlement, yet joyful. His eyes were wide, his jaw slightly slack and he'd lost the ruddiness his cheeks had gotten from the cold outside. After the words had left his mouth, he realised he was almost afraid of the answer. "Yes, sir, there are. We've got a summer kitchen, the garden house, the potions laboratory, the observatory and the garage. There are three cars inside, although we can fit several more inside; especially if we employ magic." "Wonderful," Harry said with trepidation. "I think I need to sit down." "Certainly, sir, please come this way," the elf lead them into the closest room, a formal lounge of some sort. The furniture looked as if it was antique, which caused Harry some concern about sitting on it. Fearful he was going to pass out however, he chose a richly appointed wing back chair and collapsed, gently, into it. "This is a lot more than a house," Harry said, directing his irritation at his godfather and former teacher. "I told you it was an estate," Sirius sniggered, easing himself into the long settee. "Your great-grandmother had exquisite taste. This room is more beautiful than I remembered." "Okay," Harry replied. Remus too had taken a seat, in the chair closest to him. Harry chose to stop speaking, instead attempting to take it all in. He couldn't believe this was going to be his home. He'd never even dreamed he'd live somewhere so vast, but it really wasn't the size of it which excited him. It could have been a shack, or somewhere in as deplorable of a state as Grimmauld Place, and he would have been happy. Just as long as he knew the portraits of his parents would be there as well. "Jolly, dear, what are you doing?" Another pleasantly high voice called from the hall. The sound reminded Harry of the happy twittering the birds would make in the spring. "Our new Lord Potter should be here -" she came into the room and saw Harry. "Oh, he's arrived. How lovely." The little elf clasped her hands together and smiled brightly. She was wearing a lovely flowered dress with a lace collar and small kerchief on her head. "Welcome, Lord Potter," the elf said as she curtsied in front of Harry. Jolly had come to stand next to her, and chose to bow too, each of them holding the pose until Harry spoke. "Oh, erm, please stand up," he said quickly. "I don't want you doing that, and don't call me Lord Potter, please. I'm Harry, just Harry." They righted themselves, both smiling brightly. "Of course, Lord -, Harry," the female said with a dip of her head. It appeared that it might take a while to break them of the formal habits they'd cultivated. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to own elves. He couldn't imagine what Hermione might say to him. "We are so pleased you have come home. I am Dilly, and I take care of the kitchen and the laundry. This is my husband, Tingus, although everyone has always called him Jolly." "I can see why you were given the nickname," Harry replied. "You're quite a happy bloke." "No other way to be," Jolly replied. "Life is too short to waste it being unhappy." Harry already liked him. Dilly gave him a little pat on the arm. "Stop with your bragging," she gently admonished him. "I'm certain he's got questions a plenty. There's no need for you to be rambling on so." Everyone laughed at the statement. It was obvious they loved one another. "Dilly, Jolly, it's such a pleasure to see you again," Remus said kindly. "You did a lovely job with the house in Killarney. I was astounded when we arrived last night." "Thank you, Mister Remus. I was happy to do it," Dilly said. "Nice to use my magic for something other than dusting." "There's still a loose floorboard on the upper landing," Jolly said. "I'll come over tomorrow and fix it." "There's not need," Harry quickly replied. "I'm sure one of us could do it." "Nonsense," Jolly cheerfully dismissed the idea. "That's what I get paid for. Taking care of these houses is my honour." "You're paid?" Harry said, attempting to hide his shock and happiness. That solved his 'owning' the elves issue which was brewing in his head. "Have been for thirty years," Jolly explained. "Mister James asked for us to be freed for his eighth birthday. Lord Eldon thought it made sense, and he freed the misses and me. He then asked us to stay on, as paid staff. We even have our own set of rooms at the back of the house." "Oh, good. I have a friend who will be quite interested to speak with you." "Hermione will get her chance, I'm sure," Sirius finally spoke up. Her ideas amused him. Dilly turned to face him, and then suddenly blushed. "Mister Sirius, I didn't know you were here as well," she said sounding completely different than when speaking with Harry or Remus. She, quite frankly, sounded shy. "It has been a long time." "Yes, it has, Miss Dilly. You look as lovely as ever," the old dog cooed, and Dilly blushed more. Jolly got a stern look and shook his head. If Harry had to guess, he'd think Dilly had a slight crush on his godfather. For his part, Sirius seemed to enjoy flirting with the little elf. "Oh, eh, well thank you," she stammered out, her hands smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in her dress. "Dinner will be ready momentarily. If you will excuse me?" she quickly turned to exit. "Jolly, dearest, please show them to the dining room?" Her husband captured her hand as she tried to speed past, and placed a kiss on the top. They shared a smile of love and contentment, one that seemed could only be forged by a life-long affection. "Of course, my sweet," Jolly replied and the female sped from the room. He turned to Sirius and gave him a look. They both knew Sirius would never do anything to hurt such a long union, he simply enjoyed the to and fro of flirting. Sirius gave the old elf a slight nod of understanding. "Why don't you all follow me?" The men stood and went back to the entrance hall. "Across the way there," Jolly began giving his quick tour, "is the breakfast room and kitchen. We were in the formal receiving room, and this here is Lady Prudence's sitting room. Although both Lady Winifred and Misses Lily spent many, many hours here as well. Has the best views of the rose garden and the hedgerow maze." Harry gazed into the room, and could easily imagine his mother sitting in here. The farthest wall was all windows, with a window seat covered in pillows lining below. There were bookshelves around the room, holding tomes with old, cracked bindings. In the centre of the room were several long couches, they too were covered in pillows and throws. Whereas the formal reception room was done in aubergine, cream and navy colouring, this room was the palest of pinks, greens and white. Even the furniture had a pale patina. They entered another hallway, this one narrower and longer. "Back over in the corner there is the gentlemen's snooker room. Mister James spent much of his adolescence in there." Jolly sounded dismayed at his father's behaviour. "Ah, I remember it well," Sirius said with a knowing grin. I could only imagine what they did in there. "This here is the study," Jolly explained as he pointed out a closed door. There was no doorknob, only a brass plate with the Potter family emblem on it. "Only the current Lord or Lady can enter." Harry nodded, understanding it must be magic which opened the locking mechanism, thus letting him in. He'd test that theory later. "This is the dining room," they were told as they entered the huge room. It was easily twice the size of the receiving room they'd been in, with huge French doors leading out to a covered veranda. The table in the middle seemed too small, but he supposed it would expand or contract based on how many were to be served. Portraits lined the walls of the room, his parents' was closest to the table. "Oh, James, there he is," he heard his mother cry, and Harry ran to stand in front of it. She was sitting down in what appeared to be the chair he'd used earlier, while his father was standing, one hand on her shoulder. They were wearing nice Wizarding robes, his father’s were black, his mother's deep green. Dad had on a bright red tie with thin gold stripes. Harry recognised the Gryffindor colours and smiled. His mum's robes were cut in a gentle scoop, and she was wearing an emerald necklace and earrings with it. He was also surprised by her shoes, they had really high heels. Harry had heard so few words of hers, yet there was something so soothing about her voice. Even in his dreams it always made him feel loved. Only her screams in his nightmares were the exception. His knees buckled somewhat at the fleeting remembrance of those moments, and Sirius was next to him in a flash, protectively grabbing his arm while simultaneously summoning a chair with his wand. He pushed Harry gently down into it, and then backed away to his space next to Remus. The friends would have their chance, this time was for child and parents to become acquainted. "My boy; my beautiful, strong boy," Lily cried, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. James withdrew a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his wife. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so lovely as his Mum. Her hair curled at the ends, creating a perfect fiery frame for her pale, oval face. Her lips were a delicate curve and bow, pulled high into her cheeks as she smiled. Though she was crying, Harry was enchanted by her eyes. Emerald green and sparkling, they reminded Harry of the rich colour of summertime leaves, or perhaps a field of shamrocks. "Mum, Dad," he eked out. Tears formed in his eyes, but he was too overwhelmed to even care. It wouldn't be the first time either Remus or Sirius had seen him cry. Tearing his eyes away from his mum, Harry was shocked as he looked at his father. Although he'd seen photographs, it wasn't until he was standing in front of the portrait, wearing a nearly identical set of robes, did Harry truly realise how similar he and his father were. It was like looking in a mirror, save for the eyes and the lightning bolt scar. He was his father's son. Really understanding this made Harry realise how truly difficult it must be for Sirius and Remus to look at him. It was like he was a living, breathing ghost of a person they'd loved dearly. Unfortunately, it also gave Harry a fleeting thought of why Snape hated him so; looking past the outward features of his face and body was probably impossible for the man. "Harry," James spoke. "You are such a good man. I couldn't ever be prouder of you." "Thanks," the son spoke, just taking in his parents' appearance. "We wanted to raise you," Lily explained. "All we ever wanted was to love you, and give you a happy childhood. We were going to give you little sisters and brothers and live in a house with a huge garden, and a proper tree house..." "Mum, don't cry," Harry pleaded, even though he was weeping as well. James reached for his wife, helped her stand before taking the seat himself. Harry was about to reprimand his own father for being a prat, but the Harry realised James was pulling his mum into his lap to comfort her. "You did what you could. You didn't leave me on purpose. Voldemort killed you." "You say his name?" James asked, taken aback. "I'm not going to say: 'You-Know-Who' or call him Lord anything," Harry defiantly replied. They both beamed with pride. "You are so brave," Lily announced. They each continued to stare, taking in one another's appearances. Harry wanted to so badly to reach out and touch her, let her cradle him in her arms and then sit at her feet, letting his head rest in her lap as she stroked his hair. He was told mothers liked to do these things, even when her son was nearly of age. Harry didn't know though, as he couldn't remember anyone ever cuddling him that way. There were so many things he wanted to ask them. He wanted to know if they knew he'd ended up at the Dursleys and why Petunia hated her sister so much. He needed to know what the Headmaster knew about the Secret Keeper. He desperately wanted to share how confused he was about his future. Did they think he should stay at Hogwarts or go somewhere else? The questions piled up on top of each other, unstable and teetering about in his head and making cohesive thought nearly impossible. He mostly, truly and deeply wanted to let them know he loved them so much, regardless of what the answers were to anything else. Tears formed again, his need to cry stronger than it had been before. "I love you both," he said, his voice breaking on the four words. "I've always loved you." Lily's tears matched her sons, and even James struggled to respond. "We know, son," the last word caught in his throat, like it had since the day he found out Lily was carrying him. "We love you, too." "Harry, most of the happy moments of my life were the ones you were in," Lily added. "Only kissing your father for the first time and our wedding day are the exception. The first time the healer laid you in my arms..." she stopped to take a stuttering breath. "I felt so complete. I knew love, I felt it with my own mum and dad. I was, am, passionately in love with your father." She looked into James face as she said the last and then returned to her sons gaze. "Nothing, however, had prepared me for the heart-shattering love I felt when I held you." "Oh, Mum," Harry uttered. "She's right, Harry," James added. "You were so small, and perfect and...I was terrified I would break you. I couldn't believe something so wonderful was smaller than a Quaffle and more delicate than the wings on a Snitch." "Do you have to make everything a Quidditch metaphor?" Lily asked exasperatedly. "Of course," James cheekily replied. "Parenthood and Quidditch, most important topics in my life." Sirius gave a hardy 'hear hear' under his breath, which caused Lily to glare at him. This was exactly as Harry had pictured them behaving with one another. "Don't know about the parenthood part," Harry piped up. "But life would be awful without Quidditch. Might be the only thing I truly love about Hogwarts anymore." Harry inwardly cursed his bringing up the serious topic, even if it was as a joke. He wasn't quite ready to have such a difficult conversation. Thankfully, James decided to continue in the mocking tone the talk had turned to. "Did these two gits make you wear robes?" Harry laughed, despite his tears. The other Marauders let good natured chuckles tumble from their mouths as well. "No," Harry said as he wiped his tears. "I thought I should look presentable, since I'm meeting everyone today. I am the new Lord and all." He suddenly wished he'd worn the Muggle suit he'd purchased instead. "Don't let your father goad you, Harry," Lily stated, while gently elbowing her husband in the stomach. "You look dashing and very grown up in them." "I'd still rather be in my jeans and trainers," Harry confessed. His father gave a cocky smile and nodded in agreement. He was definitely his father's son. "I know you have much to talk about," Dilly said as she came closer. Harry wondered how much of their reunion she'd heard. Given the redness of her eyes, he suspected a great deal. "But your dinner is ready. Men as large and strapping as you three, you probably need to eat something by now. I hope you like roast lamb?" "Anything you make, my sweet, is the perfect thing," Sirius slyly said. Remus and James groaned while Harry rolled his eyes. "We shan't let your work be destroyed in any way by our lingering. Do you need a hand bringing things in from the kitchen?" "Bite your tongue, Sirius Black. You are a guest in this house. Now, sit down and let the food come to you," she replied and Sirius pulled went to the table and pulled the chair at the end out and sat down. He'd expected Harry to take it, but he was sitting on the side, so he could face his parents. Remus was next to him, so Sirius took the head place, not wanting to be rude and have his back to his best mate and his wife. The conversation over dinner was comfortable and fun. Everyone intentionally kept the topics light and friendly, and slowly Harry was introduced to his grandparents and great-grandparents. He was shocked to find out that his mum's parents, Iris and Edward Evans, had a portrait here as well. Currently there were eight people packed into James and Lily's frame. "We passed shortly after your parents married," Iris explained. "James had the foresight to have a portrait commissioned for her birthday that year. We were ever so thankful, otherwise we wouldn't have seen you at all." The meal reminded him of dining with the Weasleys. Someone would start a story, then someone else would add a comment, then another one, and pretty soon they weren't on the original topic anymore, or they were arguing. Even the bickering made Harry happy. The dishes from the meal were cleared, and Dilly carried a treacle tart out and presented it to Harry. "Treacle tart? Dilly, how did you know?" Harry excitedly asked. "Mister Remus let it slip that it was your favourite. How could I not make it when I knew such a thing?" she said sweetly. Harry thought Dilly might be the best house-elf in all of England. Once she had served them, he dug in. "Dilly, this is amazing," he said, his mouth not quite empty. "What is that I taste in with the treacle?" "Ah, it's the second secret ingredient in there," she told him with a smile. "What's the first?" "Why, love Mister Harry," she said replied sounding almost coy. "Ah, no one ever baked for me with love before," Harry said without really thinking about it. It was his mother crying out, "Oh, Harry." that made him consider the words. "Petunia didn't make your favourite dessert for you?" Iris Evans asked, and Harry was reticent to tell her the truth. "Harry, please," his granddad Edward implored. "Tell us about living with your aunt and uncle." "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon only kept me because Professor Dumbledore made them. From the time I was five I had to do chores, and if I made a mistake I would be punished," he confessed. He didn't want to tell them more. He wasn't ever going to go back. He looked at his mum, and she was crying so hard her shoulders were shaking and her breathing was laboured. He didn't want to make it worse for her. "Harry," his father spoke up. James was a deep shade of red and his hands were grasping the arms of the chair so tightly, Harry was concerned he'd break it. "Is there more?" Harry hesitated. "Yes," Sirius spoke up. "They kept him in a cupboard under the stairs until a few years ago. He had to purchase his own clothes today, because the only thing that arse of a man and his bitch of a wife would give him were Dudley's cast offs. I've listened to him in his sleep, pleading for his cousin and uncle to stop beating him." All four women were weeping now, and the Potter men were all livid. The worst reaction, however, came from Edward Evans. He looked as though he'd been thoroughly beaten, the blows taking his breath away and breaking his ribs. "Sirius Black," Lily yelled, standing up. "I want to know why you didn't take him away from that. You knew what was happening. You're his godfather, you should have raised him; Dumbledore be dammed." "Mum, don't yell at Sirius, it isn't his fault," Harry stood, jumping to his godfather's defence. "He couldn't take me. He was locked up in Azkaban." "What?" all the two-dimensional people yelled. Sirius and Remus went on to explain their tale of the last fourteen years. Part way through, Harland Potter, Harry's granddad, asked to have the portrait frame turned on its side so they could bring more chairs in and sit down. Remus complied, also stretching the frame as best he could. Before they began again, the werewolf looked to the doorway. "Why don't the two of you come in as well," Harry said to Dilly and Jolly. "You might as well hear the story, so we don't have to repeat it." The elves did as they were asked. When the tale was finished, everyone was silent. Even knowing it as well as he did, Harry was struck by how horrible it was. "Mum, Dad, I need to know. Did you remember Peter was the Secret Keeper?" "Of course we did," James replied. "They why the hell didn't Dumbledore come and ask you? Why didn't he seek out the truth?" "I don't know, Harry," Lily sadly answered. "Maybe he wanted to hide you in the Muggle world?" "Do you really think he'd be safer with Muggles? What about accidental magic? What about when he got sick? You said yourself Muggle medicine is barbarity compared to Wizarding care," James retorted and Lily shrunk back. She didn't want to even consider that Dumbledore would have done something like this without reason. "Harry, it takes a while for portraits to awaken," granddad Harlan explained. "Usually its six to eight weeks, a little longer if it was a traumatic death. Dumbledore knows this. Sirius, even if he suspected you, certainly your trial could have been delayed until James could verify this information." "I wasn't given a trial," Sirius said. "What?" Winifred Potter yelled. "Why in the world didn't they give you a trial?" "I was sent straight to Azkaban," Sirius explained. He'd glossed over this part, because he knew it would upset his "Auntie Freddie", as she had insisted he call her when he and James became friends. The name stuck, even once he'd moved in at fifteen. "It's over now, Auntie Freddie. I've got a Veritaserum trial on Wednesday at the Irish Ministry offices. They've given me asylum." "Take my house, dear boy," Prudence Potter said. "Dilly will make sure it's clean." "Already taken care of, great-grandma," Harry happily said. "We stayed there last night." "Good. Glad that place can be of some use to someone." Everyone started discussing the merits of the different houses, but Harry's mind began to wander. He looked out through the window, to the garden beyond. Past that, he could see Quidditch hoops, and he began daydreaming about what it would be like to have grown up here. He imagined lessons with his granddad and great-granddad, and being sung to by his grandmothers. He could have listened to stories told by the remaining Marauders while he ate the excellent food Dilly would have prepared. He would have done his lessons in here, someone overseeing that he was doing his math correctly, or explaining the parts of a sentence to him. The childhood he was imagining sounded wonderful, and he felt the need to mourn what could have been. "Harry, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Lily asked. "Just daydreaming, Mum," he answered quietly, and she nodded in understanding. "So, I need some counsel, and since I have no doubt you have my best interests at heart, I need you to answer a question. All of you." "Anything, Harry, you can always come to us," great granddad Eldon said. "Dumbledore is hiding something from me, something Voldemort wants badly. Mr Weasley was attacked in his desire for it. What is it he wants and why? Why did he come after me when I was a baby? How did I survive?" There was a moment of silence, and then James began talking. "Harry, have you ever heard the prophecy?" His son shook his head no, and James took Lily's hand in his and began a horrible tale. |
| Reviews 26 |
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