The Last Of The Blacks

Harry Potter was sitting alone in his room at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, when a knock at the door jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Who is it?" he called.

"It's us, Harry, open up."

Harry opened the door. He had only called to check that it wasn't Lupin outside his room. He had taken to avoiding Lupin very thoroughly these days. He couldn't bear to see his haggard face, to look into those defeated eyes...

All of a sudden Harry became aware of the lack of sound from his two best friends.

"Did you guys come up for something?" he asked.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, looking tense. Then Hermione said, "Well, Harry, they're going to... to read the will downstairs..."

"I'm not coming," said Harry determinedly.

"You've got to, mate, we all have to..." Ron started.

"Well, you can just tell them I'm not going down. I mean, what does it matter whether I hear the will or not?"

"Harry, please," begged Hermione. "Come down, for Sirius' sake..."

"Don't think that's going to work!" Harry almost shouted. "I know that if he was here he would never have forced me to go."

"If he was here, there would be no need for you to go down in the first place," a voice spoke out from behind Ron and Hermione.

They turned to see Remus Lupin standing there. Harry immediately turned his back so that he wouldn't have to look at him.

"I know why you're avoiding me, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry didn't say anything.

"Every time you look at me you see a shadow of your own grief in my face. And you can't bear to see it there because you're too busy trying to hide the grief inside you. But if you look it in the eye, it'll become easier to accept. And it'll keep getting easier until you can look back on Sirius with nothing but a smile."

Harry didn't speak, but Lupin knew he was listening.

"Trust me, Harry. James' death did exactly the same thing to me as Sirius' death is doing to you. And I'm not going to let you sink into the same kind of depression I was in. None of us want that. And Sirius wouldn't have either."

Harry finally turned round, though still determinedly not looking at Lupin.

"O.K.," he said quietly. "Let's go down."

The four of them went downstairs to the sitting room and joined the rest of the party that was assembled there, including a Ministry representative from the Department of Legal Affairs, who dealt with wills and other such matters and provided the public with the wizarding equivalent of lawyers.

When Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lupin were all seated, the Ministry representative, a tall, rail-thin man with auburn hair who wore an extremely stony expression on his face, began to read the will.

"I, Sirius Black," he droned, "in my fit and active state of mind, hereby distribute my property as follows..."

They started with the most menial of possessions, like his clothes and wand, which were put in Harry's name. Then they continued to the more important things.

"...my house, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and all the money in my Gringotts vault (number seven hundred and eleven) which is two thousand and fifty-eight Galleons..."

"Oh, get on with it," muttered Tonks, "we all know it goes to Harry."

Everyone in the room apart from Harry smiled expectantly.

"Goes to..." He stopped. "Where is Mr. Barry Hope?"

"Who?" exclaimed Kingsley.

"It says here," said the Ministry representative haughtily, "that the two thousand and fifty-eight Galleons and the house go to Mr. Barry Hope, the next Black in line."

There was a shocked silence.

"There must be a mistake," said Mr. Weasley. "Sirius surely would have left everything to Harry."

"Mr. Barry Hope should be here any time now," continued the Ministry representative in the same tone. "I have provided him with the password you gave me so that he could attend today's function."

"You gave him the password without asking us?" snapped Tonks indignantly. "We don't even know who he is!"

Mrs. Weasley, too, looked disturbed, but for different reasons. "The next Black in line," she breathed. "But surely... that would mean..."

"His son, yes," said a lazy, drawling voice from the doorway

They all turned round.

A man in his early twenties with the same long black hair as Sirius stood in the doorway sneering at them. He had bright blue eyes which, although the same colour, did not twinkle like Dumbledore's, but were cold and unfeeling.

"Who're you?" said Harry roughly.

"I just told you," jeered the newcomer. "The deceased's son, and consequently the next Black in line. Barry Hope."

"Your surname isn't Black," said Harry quietly, although inside he was seething. He didn't know why; a few minutes ago he couldn't have cared less who Sirius gave his belongings to.

"I'm not so foolish as to take the name of a person who's so despicable they were never fit to live on the surface of this earth," Barry replied, in an even lower voice than Harry's.

"Shut up!" shouted Harry, his voice rising. "Just shut up!"

Barry Hope continued to stare sneeringly at him.

"Oh," he said. "Defending him now, are we? You might have cared about him, but he... well, he's just shown it now, hasn't he? Two thousand and fifty-eight Galleons and this house in my name. And for you? A bunch of old clothes!" He sniggered. "It just goes to show that blood is so much more important than your foolish sentiments."

For a moment Harry remained silent. Then he spoke, in the coldest voice he could muster.

"You know, he never told us about you. No-one here knows who you are. Just because your hair's the same as his, it doesn't prove that you're his son."

Barry continued to look at him, not saying anything.

"And if there's a possibility that you're not his son, then this will could just be fake," Harry finished, casting a sideways glance at the Ministry delegate.

"Excuse me," replied the delegate icily. "This will is NOT fake."

"Fine, then," said Harry. Then he addressed Barry. "So if you are his son, it's no wonder he didn't tell us about you. Anyone would be ashamed to have a son like that."

"Watch your manners, Potter," snapped Barry.

Harry simply looked at him enquiringly, in exactly the same way Barry had looked at him seconds before.

"So you think you can say things like that to Barry Hope and get away with it, huh?" Barry said softly.

"Yes," Harry replied just as quietly. "Yes, I do."

"Well, wait till you hear this," Barry said maliciously.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice.

"According to this will, I am now the proprietor of this house. And I say that you people, who, during the lifetime of the deceased and after his death, have used this place for accommodation purposes, may not continue to do so. I will give you exactly one month to move out of here, or I will be forced to evict you. Good day to you."

He made to leave the house, then stopped.

"I think you may find this useful," he said, holding out a piece of paper to Harry. Harry, confused, took the paper from him, and Barry Hope swept out the way he had come in, leaving a stillness in his wake which almost radiated the feelings of disbelief buzzing through everybody's minds.

Harry looked at the paper Barry had given him. It was identical to the one he had had to memorize a year ago to enter Grimmauld Place.

A feeling of enragement coursed through him. Who did this guy think he was, first having the audacity to enter Order Headquarters without proper permission, and then claiming to be Sirius' son?

He slammed the paper down on a nearby ledge, turned round and headed upstairs without another word. He needed time alone to let his anger cool down before he could think of what to do about the situation

"Harry - " Hermione began, but she knew it was no use.

Lupin got up, sighed and began to walk up the stairs after Harry. The rest of the party, knowing it wasn't really their place to do so, decided not to follow, but instead turned to the more pressing problem - the house.

Meanwhile Lupin knocked on Harry's door. "Open up, Harry," he said quietly.

No answer.

He tried again, "Harry, Sirius has left you more than his old stuff. He left you a letter."

When there was still no response, he continued, "He gave it to me last Christmas, in case anything happened to him. These letters tell the truth about Barry Hope and about the will."

Finally Harry opened the door. He still didn't look at Lupin, but stared determinedly at the floor. "Where's the letter?"

"Look at me and I'll give it to you," said Lupin.

"I don't need to do what you say to get a letter addressed to me," said Harry quietly.

"Please look at me," said Lupin, just as quietly.

Harry was reminded of the Lupin he'd known in his third year. The Lupin who'd taught them about Boggarts and Grindylows. The Lupin who'd covered for him in Snape's office. The Lupin who had turned out to be a werewolf, and Sirius' friend...

He was trying so hard not to think about Sirius that it took him some time to realise that he was looking straight into Lupin's eyes.

Lupin held out an envelope for him. He took it from him, feeling slightly awkward that it hadn't been as painful as he'd expected it to be. In fact, it had almost felt slightly relieving, as though that accomplishment had siphoned off some of the wretchedness he had felt since that fateful night at the Department of Mysteries.

Banishing the thought from his mind, he turned back into his room, making sure to lock the door securely behind him warranting that he wasn't disturbed again.

He sat down on the bed and opened the envelope. Inside were five pieces of parchment, all filled with Sirius' neatest handwriting and even numbered from one to five. God, the guy really must have been bored here, he thought bitterly. The writing was so neat it could have been the hundredth draft.

He removed the first piece of parchment and started to read.

Dear Harry,

I am writing this from inside my room. I have just finished making the final copy of my will. If you have this letter, it must mean that I am dead and that my will has been read. I know it didn't contain what you expected it to. Sorry about that - you must be angry. You might even see it as a betrayal of my faiths. But please bear with me and read this letter. After you know the truth, you can tear it up if you want to. But just wait five minutes, and you'll find out a lot that will change your opinion.

Harry, I know perfectly well that the Barry Hope I have left everything to isn't a good person. But that isn't his fault - it's his mother's. Sandra Hope, my ex-wife.

I never told you that I was married or that I had a son. I wanted to put that episode of my life behind me. Sandra never loved me. She was only after the money I had acquired from the business I used to run - Quality Quidditch Supplies. (It was taken over by someone else when I went to Azkaban, but all the money was still mine.)

She made herself out to be really kind and sweet, but she was actually the most conniving and evil woman I could ever have had the misfortune to meet.

It all started when she became obsessed with having hers and Barry's names on my will...

Sirius was sitting on the sofa in his comfortable house in Godric's Hollow, next door to James and Lily's. His wife, Sandra came to sit down next to him. He smiled briefly at her, then carried on reading the Daily Prophet he was holding.

"Sirius?" she said sweetly.

"Yeah?" he answered, without looking up from the article he was reading.

"Sirius... I really need to talk to you. About... about your will."

Sirius slammed the newspaper down on the table and looked at her tiredly.

"I've already told you," he said, exasperated, "that I will make my will and I will put you and Barry in it, but understand that I need time to consider how I'm going to divide my assets up. I mean, I'm very close to a lot of people. I want to leave some of my stuff to Remus, Peter, James... but I will leave you the majority - I promise. Anyway, it's not like I'm going to die any time soon."

"You could," she said quietly. "You're forever risking your life to fight Death Eaters when they launch attacks. What will happen to us if something happens to you in a fight?"

"You'll get through, Sandra," Sirius said, in a slightly less harsh tone of voice. "I mean, you're earning as well - it's not like you'll be completely stuck without me."

"You know I will," she said seriously. "I don't earn half enough to support a child and myself. I mean, I live in fear of what will happen if you really... oh, I can't bear to think about it!"

"Calm down, Sandra!" Sirius pulled her towards him. "Listen - I'll make the will, you don't have to worry so much, O.K.?"

He patted her on the shoulder and left the room.

As soon as he had gone, Sandra's whole countenance changed. Her eyes darkened so much that they became like black whirlpools from the hazel colour they had been.

"How long's he going to take?" she muttered under her breath. "He just doesn't seem to get the point. If he doesn't make that blasted will in one week, I'm out of here. I've got better things to do than waste my time with stingy gits like him."

From behind the wall Sirius paused, in complete shock for a few seconds. Then he recovered slightly and quickly left the scene before his presence was discovered by his worthless wife.

At that point Harry stopped reading, too shocked to carry on. He had never thought, never considered, never even asked if Sirius had ever been married. He could not believe that he was reading about the same Sirius whom he thought he had known for two years.

He gave himself a little shake and carried on reading. After all that he had already read, there really couldn't be anything else that would shock him more than he already had been.

Or so he thought.

After that, (read the letter) I told her to leave the house and never come back. She, however, was more conniving than I thought. She emotionally blackmailed me to let her stay, saying that if she left I would never see my son again, because if she went, so did he. And like a fool I was forced to listen to her.

But of course, after finding everything out, I couldn't put Barry's name in the will, as it would mean a great risk. I didn't know the limits of her cunning but I knew that if I left anything to Barry she would stop at nothing to gain access to it. So I made the will leaving everything to James, Lily, and you, Harry. After I had done that, I felt relaxed and more at ease as I knew that she could never get at my fortune now. Yet I knew I was living on the edge, and that soon something would happen that would decide which way I fell - towards truth or towards a life of pretence just to make sure my son remained near me.

A few nights later, though, I was lying in bed when I suddenly sensed my whole body seize up. I couldn't move a muscle. And then it just... stopped. Everything was normal again. I immediately threw off the covers and attempted to run. This was definitely a Dark curse. I had to tell somebody about it.

But I didn't manage to go very far. The instant I had got up, I felt a dull pain course through my body. It started off as an ache, then slowly developed into an unbearable form of torture. And every moment a voice echoed in my head, a hideous voice that chilled my very soul, constantly urging me, "Change the will... give it all to Barry... your son... your son..."

I had to change the will, there was no other way to stop the pain. It had fastened itself to my every sinew and relentlessly refused to leave me alone. I was desperate, and I'm really very sorry if it means you couldn't get what you deserved, Harry. Had I had my choice, I would unquestioningly have chosen you and your family as my heirs.

Once I had changed the will, Sandra's work was done. She took off with Barry the following night and I woke up the next day to find them gone. It was only then that I realised that I would never have truly have had a grasp over my son either way. If I had continued to allow Sandra to stay, our frosty relationship would have affected my relationship with Barry as a father in later years, when he would have had to come to terms with his parents hatred of each other. And by signing the will in favour of Sandra, I had lost even the chance of watching my son grow up. In fact, I never saw him or Sandra again.

On top of everything, I found that a large amount of gold had been taken out of my shop safe. Sandra had even had the audacity to record the transaction in the shop accounts. No doubt the will alone did not suffice.

You may wonder why I did not tell anyone about my problems as soon as they started. Well, this was the time in which Voldemort was powerful, and everybody was either helping him or against him. Nothing else mattered, domestic problems least of all. And so I presented a normal 'Sirius' face to my friends, the Order and the outside world, and a frosty face to Sandra. The only person who knew the true me was myself.

But it seems strange even now, to look back on those times and think of Sandra. I knew her since our Third Year at Hogwarts, and she was, for many years, one of the nicest women I knew. I often wonder if her kindness had been a façade since then, or if evil marred her goodness later in her life. The whole point is, though, that she turned out to be an immoral person, and I know that Barry must have become just like her by now, grown up with a wrong impression of me. I have a request for you, Harry; help me by changing that impression. Show Barry who his father really was, make him understand the truth. It may be hard, but it will be enough for me if you attempt it. You don't have to succeed.

Enough about me, though. I don't know in what stage in your life you will be reading this, and what more hardships you may have suffered by the time this reaches you, but whenever you get this, I have only one message for you - have faith in yourself. Whatever happens, you are sure to get through it if you don't lose hope like I did. Never forget that the future can turn out the way you want it to if you believe in it enough. Don't lose sight of your goals and you will pass through them. Have confidence in your own abilities, and you'll make it through -trust me.

Love,

Sirius

Harry put down the letter slowly. He felt a deep sadness at everything Sirius had been through, but at the same time relief that Sirius had always cared for him as much as - maybe even more than - he had cared for Sirius.

But the seeds of worry were beginning to grow in his mind. He could not let Barry Hope keep the money or the house, as Sandra would be sure to get at them. And that would be an insult to Sirius' memory. The money wasn't the biggest problem, though - the house was needed for Order Headquarters, and operations against Voldemort would end up being badly organised and inefficient if the Order didn't have a proper base to plan them from. Unless the Hopes allowed the Order to remain at 12, Grimmauld Place... no, they would be evicted for sure. And Harry wasn't going to stand by and let the Order weaken steadily, as his control over the whole wizarding world would then be a certainty.

He thought back to the last two paragraphs of the letter. Sirius had told him that he must attempt to sway Barry Hope onto the side of the truth. Well, he would do just that. And he would take Sirius' advice about believing in oneself, and come out of everything having fulfilled his godfather's last wishes to the utmost of his abilities.

"I will succeed, Sirius," he murmured to himself. "I will succeed."