Heritage

The next day Pomfrey declared that he could leave the infirmary. This did not mean he was free yet. They had to wait another hour for Dumbledore and two Ministry wizards to arrive so that the spell preventing him from leaving his bed could be lifted. He had to change under their watchful eyes and then proceed under their escort to the boundaries of the Hogwarts grounds, where one of the agents took him by the arm to Apparate him. The day before, Dumbledore had warned him that pending his trial he would be expelled from Hogwarts and under house arrest. A trial that, according to Dumbledore, would be just a formality. He would preside over the trial himself and had already secured almost half of the jury members. And as soon as he had signed the necessary papers, Dumbledore would draw money from his vault at Gringotts to secure the rest of the votes. Harry was beginning to understand how scum like Malfoy had managed to escape prison and why some were so desperate about the injustice of the wizarding world that they followed psychopaths like Voldemort or Grindelwald. But for once, he wasn't complaining.

However, he still did not know where he would spend the remaining weeks while waiting for his trial, and he was apprehensive. So it was with surprise that, once the typical suffocating sensation of Apparition disappeared, he opened his eyes in what looked like a typical Muggle street in London. At first, Harry thought the man had made a mistake. But without a word, he pushed him in the back up to a large dilapidated Gothic-style manor. It stood out so much amidst the low-grade concrete buildings surrounding the area that Harry understood at first glance that this was his new place of residence.

Under its appearance of repulsive ruin, it was supposed to be a perfectly maintained ministry building. He was therefore very disappointed when, once inside, he had the impression that the place was a dark wizard's lair abandoned for decades. There was so much dust that he could barely breathe, and he was sure he had seen a couple of pigeons fly away upon their entry. But the worst was the row of elf heads that adorned the main hallway.

He was about to ask his escort what he was doing there when a miserable-looking house elf appeared before his eyes and bowed to him, saying:

Welcome home, Master Potter.

Then he gave him a hateful look while murmuring:

How ashamed the mistress would be if she saw Kreattur serving traitors to their blood

What is this place? He asked.

Before the men could say a word, Kreattur replied:

Here, as you say, this is the noble and great house of the Blacks. Then he murmured: besides, he is ill-mannered and has no respect.

Harry swore he saw one of the officials suppress a smile. Dumbledore then explained.

Shortly after our meeting yesterday, I was informed by the goblins about the opening of Sirius Black's will. Apparently, a few weeks after his escape, he went to Gringotts to have it modified. He bequeathed all of his possessions to you, which, in addition to an impressive amount of galleons, includes ownership of the Black family home, this house-elf, and his title of nobility.

It doesn't make any sense. Why would he have done that?

Hum! Hum! One of the ministry employees made a sound.

We will undoubtedly discuss it again later, but in summary, I see two hypotheses. Either he was crazier than we thought, or he was innocent.

At these words, Harry felt an additional pang of guilt. He knew that Dumbledore would not mention the second hypothesis if he did not have a good reason to believe it true. Not to mention that now that he knew how wizarding justice worked, he did not doubt that Azkaban must be filled with innocents.

But let's move on, as soon as I knew, I asserted your rights as the new Lord Black so that you would not be sent to a ministry juvenile detention center. You will wait for your trial here.

While one of the ministry employees was stating his rights, which mainly consisted of not leaving here during the coming months, Harry looked at the torn, mold-covered carpets. Then at the shelves that hadn't collapsed. They were sagging under a thick layer of dust. Below, one could make out trinkets that seemed straight out of the worst shop in Knockturn Alley.

Harry philosophically told himself that at least Scabbers wouldn't lack friends here. He was tempted to tell the employee that he preferred the juvenile detention center, but lately, he trusted Dumbledore's judgment more than his own. If he thought it was the best thing to do, then he would comply.

After what felt like an eternity, the employee finished his litany and asked him to sign a paper with the ministry's letterhead. After a glance at Dumbledore, he complied without bothering to read the tiny characters that adorned the parchment.

The ministry employee seemed about to leave, then he reconsidered and asked Harry.

Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but could you sign an autograph for me? It's for my niece. She reads everything about you.

Stunned, Harry complied without a word.

Thank you. Don't worry, Mr. Potter. Everyone knows you are innocent. Soon, all this will be a thing of the past.

That did nothing to ease his guilty conscience.