Harry Potter and the Sixth Year

Mr Weasley led Harry along to the lifts. A few paperdart memos followed them in, to circle round with the others like gigantic moths. The lift slowly ascended until it came to a stop again on the fourth floor. The doors opened, and accompanied by a few more memos, Harry and Mr Weasley stepped out.

"This way," he said.

They walked down the corridor, turning left, then right, then left again. Further down the passage Harry could see a figure standing outside a door, looking at his watch. It was Remus Lupin. He looked up as they approached, and smiled.

"Harry. Arthur. Good to see you."

Remus was looking better than Harry had yet seen him; for once there was colour in his cheeks, and despite the grey in his hair and the shabbiness of his robes, he seemed fit and relaxed.

"Remus," said Mr Weasley. "Well, we'd better go in."

Mr Weasley knocked on the door then opened it. Inside the office Harry saw a witch behind a desk, busy talking to a quill that flew across the surface of a parchment, pausing every so often to recharge itself with ink.

"Good afternoon," she said with a smile, breaking off from her letter writing.

"Good afternoon," said Mr Weasley. "Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin and Harry Potter to see Mr Melchett."

"Oh, yes, Mr Black's will. Go through," she told them, pointing to a door.

The room was dimly lit, the walls panelled with a dark wood, and covered with framed parchments of diplomas and degrees. Sitting behind a very large desk was a very ancient wizard, who stood up to greet them as they came into the room. He shook hands with them all gravely, and Harry was grateful that for once there was no flicker of the eyes to his forehead. Instead Mr Melchett greeted him with the same gravity that he had reserved for Mr Weasley and Remus.

"Please, sit down," he said waving at three chairs lined up by his desk. "Thank you for coming. Yes, now, Mr Black's will. A sad occasion, the reading of wills. Always is. Always has been. But there we are.

"It is really a very simple will. Mr Black, I understand, had no close living relatives, so there are no family bequests. There are just two beneficiaries of the will, and they are both here, so I can keep matters relatively brief and informal." He looked up and smiled. "Firstly, Remus Lupin. A bequest of one thousand Galleons, currently residing in vault 1873 in the Diagon Alley branch of Gringott's bank. It is with great pleasure that I give you the key to the vault."

And the lawyer reached down to a small key on his desk, picked it up, and held it out to Remus, who leaned forward to take it. Harry could see Remus' expression - obviously pleased, yet at the same time, sad. He murmured something so low that Harry didn't quite catch it. Then he looked up at Mr Melchett. "Sirius was a good friend of mine. A good friend even in death."

Harry knew that Remus had hardly any money and little chance of earning any: this must have meant a lot to him.

"Quite, quite," said the lawyer. He paused for a moment or two, looking down at the parchment on his desk, before looking up at Harry. "The other beneficiary is Mr Black's godson, Harry Potter."

Harry had been expecting something like this, but even so, he felt a prickling in his eyes. He would far rather have had Sirius back than all the gold in Gringott's. But the thought that Sirius had thought enough of him to leave almost all his estate to him lightened the moment very slightly.

"Firstly," the lawyer went on, "the realisation of Mr Black's assets amounts to a sum of 12,435 Galleons. 1000, as we have said, goes to Mr Lupin. It is therefore with pleasure that I can tell you that the remaining sum resides in vault number 1874 at Gringott's." Mr Melchett picked up a key from his desk, but instead of passing it to Harry, put it down again. "Secondly, the property known as 12 Grimmauld Place also passes to Mr. Potter." A pause. “There are, however, two further points. The first is a request, not a condition – which is that Mr Lupin be allowed to use the property as his residence if he so desires.” The lawyer paused for a moment.

Harry looked across to Remus. "Of course," he said. "Professor, please - the house is yours whenever you want."

Remus bowed his head gravely. "Thank you, Harry. That is more than kind."

“The second,” Melchett went on, “is that since Mr Potter is not yet of age, a guardian of the assets should be appointed, and Mr Black has specified that Arthur Weasley be that said guardian.”

Now Harry turned to Mr Weasley. “And I can't think of anyone else who I would rather have as a guardian.”

Mr Weasley in his turn bowed his head. "The privilege is all mine."

The lawyer smiled at them, picked up the key, and passed it over to Mr Weasley. "Alas," he said, "the reading of wills is always an emotional experience. Indeed, if all I read is true, Mr Black did not have a happy life. Let us hope that he is now more at peace."

Harry looked at the old man. "Thank you. I didn’t want to benefit from his death - I'd rather have Sirius back than all the gold in Gringotts."

The old man nodded. "Quite. These are all sad occasions. Yet let us hope that Mr Black has, even in the smallest way, made this world a better place. I have been told of the circumstances by which he met his death - fighting against the Dark Forces. These are difficult and dangerous times for us all. I know that you too are involved in the struggle, and I wish you every success. There is little an old man such as myself can do, but I wish you well, and hope that your struggle is soon at an end."

Harry looked down blinking. At least Sirius had gone down fighting. "Thank you," he said. "We're very grateful to you." He shot a look at the other two, who nodded. The old lawyer leaned across his desk and shook hands with the three of them as they stood up to take their leave.

Outside in the corridor, Mr Weasley stopped and looked at them both. "Come to my office, the two of you. We need to talk."

Remus nodded, and they both followed Mr Weasley down the winding Ministry corridors. The three of them somehow managed to squeeze themselves into the tiny room, and Mr Weasley closed the door, then sat behind his desk. Remus took the other chair, and Harry was reduced to perching on a desk.

"Harry," Mr Weasley began. "Grimmauld Place - are you happy for the Order to keep it as their headquarters?"

"Of course."

"And for Remus to live there - he will act as liaison for us all?"

Harry nodded again and looked over to Lupin. "Professor ..." he began.

Lupin gave a slight smile. "I don't think you need call me that now. Particularly since I'm never going to be teaching at Hogwarts again. Remus, please."

"Thank you - Remus. Grimmauld Place - make it home, please. It'll be a year or two yet before I could move in. For the time being I have to live with the Dursleys, but no doubt when I leave school I’ll need somewhere else to live."

"That brings us to the next point," said Mr Weasley. "The Order. We have a problem. You see, if the Ministry were up to the job, we wouldn't need the Order or Grimmauld Place. But I'm afraid we do."

"What do you mean - the Ministry not up to the job?"

Mr Weasley sighed. "Well, as I told you, Harry, Fudge and everyone else is aware that You Know Who is back, and that there are still Death Eaters at large. But they've still no real idea how to tackle the problem. Fudge - well, he knows Dumbledore was right, but he still can't really accept it. He’s in denial, if you like. Still doesn't trust Dumbledore one inch. And the rest of the Ministry - they’re just as bad. People are talking about 'task forces' and the like, but it's all terribly bureaucratic. As I told you, people like me are written off as too 'unorthodox'." Remus was nodding his head in agreement.

"So what do we do?" asked Harry.

"Carry on as before. At least this time we don't have the active opposition of the Ministry, more a passive opposition. But it does make life easier, not having to watch your back all the time."

"And me?" asked Harry.

"You know, yours is one of the more difficult jobs."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got to finish at Hogwarts. Apart from anything else, when this is all over, you're going to need that education. So you've got to grit your teeth, and get down to another year's study. Mind you, I think you'll find some changes in the curriculum for next year, and this time changes for the better."

But Mr Weasley would not be drawn on what the changes might be. Eventually Harry and Remus stood up to take their farewell.

"Oh, by the way, Harry, Ron says thank you for the birthday present." Remus looked at Harry slightly quizzically. "Harry and Ron are doing the one day Apparation course," he explained to Remus, "to get their licence."

"Oh, right." He looked at Harry again. "That could be very useful."

Harry nodded. "Better than broomsticks. And of course we're not on the Floo network at the Dursleys."

“Hmm. More secure too. A good idea, Harry.”

Mr Weasley shot a look at Remus. “If you don’t mind, Remus … I’d like a word with Harry by himself. Family business.”

“Of course.” Remus moved towards the door. “I’ll see you soon enough at Grimmauld Place,” he said to Harry.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He watched Remus go out, and turned back to Mr. Weasley warily. Family business?

Mr. Weasley was looking at him steadily. “Harry,” he began, then stopped, and started again. “Fred and George – they told me where the money came from for Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.”

“Oh.” Harry can’t find anything else to say.

“You shouldn’t have done it, you know. It was your money – you won it.”

“I didn’t!” Harry burst out unthinking.

Mr Weasley looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t deserve it! Bartimeus Crouch – he’d been helping me behind the scenes – made sure I’d win the tournament so that …” He stopped. “And it was Cedric really – he should have had the Cup. But we were stupid – we both grabbed it together.”

Suddenly tears were rolling down his face. It was the first time he’d really reacted to the events of twelve months ago.

“All the money I’ve got – I’ve never earned a penny of it! It’s all come to me because other people have died – my parents, then Cedric, now Sirius.”

Mr Weasley stood up, alarmed. “Harry …”

“It’s OK. Really. It’s just … I don’t know.”

Mr Weasley looked at him carefully. “Remember this Harry – Sirius, your parents – they thought enough of you to give you that money, to give you a start in life.”

“But I don’t deserve it,” said Harry stubbornly. “That’s why I gave my winnings to Fred and George. At least they’ll make some use of it.”

“And I know they’re very grateful. But Harry, you can’t go around feeling guilty about it all the time. You didn’t kill Sirius or Cedric or your parents,” - Mr Weasley hesitated, then went on - “Voldemort did.”

“But if Voldemort wasn’t after me, Cedric would still be alive.”

“If Voldemort wasn’t around, a lot of people who are dead now would be alive. Including your parents and Sirius. It’s not your fault – it’s his.”

“I suppose.”

“And you’re going to have to have to brace yourself for something else,” said Mr Weasley grimly. “There’re probably going to be a lot more dead people around before all this is over.”

The next morning, Harry woke late, tired after his excursion to London – and woke to find an owl perched on his windowsill, waiting patiently. He threw aside the bedcovers and leapt out of bed, fumbling for his glasses. The owl regarded him sternly as he fumbled with the parchment attached to its leg. He could see that this was no ordinary letter, but a rather impressive scroll. Carefully he unravelled it.

Ministry Of Magic.

O.W.L. results for Harry James Potter.

Astronomy:

Theory: Exceeding Expectations
Practical: Acceptable

Care of Magical Creatures:

Theory: Exceeding Expectation
Practical: Outstanding

Charms:

Theory: Exceeding Expectations
Practical: Exceeding Expectations

Defense Against the Dark Arts:

Theory: Outstanding
Practical: Outstanding with +1 extra credit and Commendation
Divination:

Theory: Poor
Practical: Poor

Herbology:

Exceeding Expectations

Potions:
Theory: Exceeding Expectations
Practical: Outstanding

Transfiguration:

Theory: Exceeding Expectations
Practical: Outstanding

History of Magic:

Theory: Dreadful

J.S Preceptor, Chief Examiner.

Harry read through his results with a feeling of relief – and of slight shame. ‘Dreadful’ for History of Magic. Well, Binns’ lessons hadn’t been devastatingly exciting. He should have been pensioned off long ago – if you can do that with a ghost. And Divination – well, that was no great loss either. He’d done well in the subjects that mattered. There was chance yet to be an Auror – but then he remembered Mr Weasley’s words with a sinking heart. Would the Ministry want him? Would he too be considered ‘unsound’? Well, there were a few years to go yet. Things might change between now and then. He rolled up the parchment and nodded his thanks to the owl, which took off back into the bright morning sky.

A fortnight after the reading of the will, Harry once again took a train up to the Ministry. Since the Apparating course began at nine in the morning, Harry had to take an early train, which meant getting up before anyone else in the house and making his own breakfast. Not having to see the Dursleys was, however, no hardship.

Ron, of course, could use the Floo network to travel from the Burrow, and, having registered at the desk, Harry waited by one of the fireplaces for Ron to emerge.

“Hey, Harry, how are you?”

It was really good to see Ron again. The summer weather had obviously been agreeing with him - although Ron didn't tan, but instead became more freckly.

“Good. And you? How was the check up?”

“What a way to spend a birthday! I ask you! All day in hospital! Yeah, alright. No lasting effects, they said.”

“Other than the obvious.”

“Yeah, really? You been practicing that line?”

“No need to,” said Harry with a grin.

Ron said something unprintable. Then: “Thanks for this, Harry. I would never have been able to afford it myself. Nor would Mum and Dad.”

Harry was embarrassed. “Well, I've never got you any birthday presents in the past.”

“Yeah, good excuse, Harry.”

He might have known Ron would have seen through the ploy. He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I'm even richer now after Sirius' will."

"Dad did say something, but no details."

"Remus got a thousand Galleons - I got the rest. Including Grimmauld Place."

"What? You're going to have to put in a lot of work to make that place habitable."

"Remus is living there at the moment. And ... " he was going to tell Ron about the Order still using it, but then realised he was standing in the centre of the hall in the Ministry.

“And what?” asked Ron.

“Tell you later,” said Harry briefly.

“What? Oh, yeah, right.”

“Come on, we'd better go.”

They took a lift down almost to the basement, and walked along the corridor until they found the room with a sign outside: ”Apparating Course.” There were a few people there already - some of whom were obviously back for retakes, as they were sitting pouring over sheets of notes. Gradually the room filled up, and then the wizard in charge stood up and called the room to order.

“Welcome to the One Day Apparating Course,” he began. “I’m Professor Extollor. This is a fully Ministry approved course, and if successful, you will be able to take your licence away at the end of the day. Now, the Ministry take Apparating very seriously. There are two reasons for this. One is that Apparating is not easy: if you get it wrong, the consequences for you personally can be quite severe. And then the Ministry has to come and sort you out.” Harry assumed he was referring to 'splinching'. “The other reason is this. You must not Apparate or Disapparate in front of Muggles. The Ministry take a very firm line on this, and you will certainly lose your licence.” Was it Harry’s imagination, or did the wizard's eyes flick toward Harry as he said that? “A particular severe infringement of this rule may result in more than just losing your licence.

“Of course, if members of your family are Muggles, then this rule can be relaxed somewhat. Even so, the Ministry still discourage you from doing this.” He paused. “Now then. We shall start off with some simple tests to determine whether you have the necessary magical skills to Apparate. As I said, Apparating is not easy, and it can often take time to acquire the necessary magical skills. I see we have some youngsters in the room. You may well find you may have to come back a second time before you master the skills needed. But if at this stage, I decide that you are not suitable, you may leave the course with a partial refund. We shall then go on to learning the art of Apparation, and end up with a simple practical test, which will involve you Apparating a route round various parts of the Ministry.

“Now, my assistants and I will call you out one by one for the preliminary tests.”

“Hey,” whispered Ron to Harry. “Forgot to tell you. Hermione did the course last week.”

“Did she pass?”

“What do you think? First thing she did was Apparate straight to the Burrow, licence in hand. Ginny was well impressed.”

Harry saw one of the retakes being given the thumbs down, and going to pick up her things with a resigned air, ready to depart. It obviously wasn’t her first rejection. Then “Mr. Potter.”

Harry saw one or two people in the room do a double take, and was aware of the eyes on him as he walked up. Briefly he considered turning, and giving them all a bow. But then there were probably plenty of people who thought he was big headed enough already.

He found himself in front of Extollor himself. “Right, Harry,” he said with a re-assuring smile, “I’m sure you’re used to learning lots of new stuff at school. Just relax and think of this as another lesson.”

But the spells he had to carry out to begin with were not much harder than many he had had to do at Hogwarts. Then the wizard gave him a series of tests whose purpose baffled Harry, but he seemed to come through them all right, for he was sent back to his seat, and Ron was called up in his turn, to be put through his paces. He too seemed to come through the various tests without a hitch.

By eleven o'clock the original fifteen were down to eleven.

“Right, ladies and gentlemen, we shall take a short break, and then we shall learn the skilled art of Apparation.”

“Well, we’ve made it this far,” said Ron.

“Yeah.”

But Harry was conscious of the eyes of the others. It seemed that there was nowhere he could go these days without people looking at him and whispering. It was worse than the days at Hogwarts when he’d been under suspicion for one thing or another. But people at Hogwarts had become used to him; here he was a novelty.

The session before lunch went well: Harry had few problems when he called up and had the various charms explained to him. He went through all the motions of Apparating without actually doing it. That would come this afternoon.

Ron obviously had more difficulty: he was up there for quite some time. When he came back he sank into a chair and gave a gasp of relief. “Phew. I didn’t think I was going to make it through that.”

“Really?”

“Nearly as bad as a Potions lesson. Only joking,” he said, as he saw the expression on Harry’s face.

At lunch, Professor Extollor came over to them, and Harry braced himself. But this time it was Ron who was the target: “You’re Arthur Weasley’s son, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Ah, yes – I remember. You’ve two brothers – twins?”

“Fred and George.”

“Indeed. I had them last year. A right handful. They kept on Apparating back into the room when they’d passed, and putting everyone else off.”

“That sounds like them,” said Ron, grinning.

“Any more of you? Or are you the last?”

“A sister – Ginny. You’ll probably have her next year.”

Professor Extollor nodded. “Right. And she’s the last?”

“Yep.”

“Just as well,” he said, with an air of relief.

After lunch they had to Apparate for real. After Apparating from one part of the room to the other, they were given a map of the Ministry, and their route. If they ended up in the correct rooms in the correct order, they would be given their licences.

Harry studied the map carefully, then braced himself.

Crack!

He Apparated into a small room where a bored looking witch handed him a ticket.

“There’s number one, dear.”

“Thanks.”

“Keep it with you and give it to the next person on your route.”

“Ok.”

“Off you go.”

He studied his map. Crack!

The wizard in the next room took the piece of paper from him, looked at it, sniffed, initialled it, and passed it back without a word.

Another look at the map. Crack!

“One more,” said the wizard after that, cheerfully, as he added his initials to Harry’s piece of paper.

Last time. Crack!

He held out the piece of paper automatically, then stopped in his tracks. Sitting behind a desk was Percy Weasley.

Percy looked at Harry as if he’d never seen him before in his life, then took the paper from him.

“Name?” he asked, in an expressionless tone.

“Umm .. Harry Potter.”

“Full name?” in a slightly exasperated tone.

“Harry James Potter.”

Harry watched as Percy carefully reached for a piece of parchment, filled out the form, blotted it, held it up and perused it slowly, then, almost grudgingly, passed it over, still not looking at Harry.

“Umm … where now?”

In a bored tone, Percy said: “You now have your licence to Apparate. You may leave this room for a destination of your choice. And may I remind you that Apparating in front of Muggles may result in a loss of your licence.”

“Right – OK.”

Crack!

Harry re-appeared in the classroom. Professor Extollor came over smiling.

“No problems?”

“Er – no. I’m just going to wait for Ron, if that’s okay.”

“Ah, yes. Ron at the moment is on his tour of the Ministry.”

“Right – I’ll go and sit at the back and wait for him.”

Professor Extollor smiled again. “Of course. And congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Harry went to the back of the room and watched as various witches and wizards appeared and disappeared. After a few minutes there was another Crack! and Ron appeared, looking slightly dazed. But Harry noticed he was clutching a piece of parchment.

“OK?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. Nearly got lost though, on the second time.” Ron bit his lip. “Harry – did you see …?”

“Percy?” Harry finished for him. “Yeah.”

“It was weird.”

“Did he ask you your name?”

“Yeah.”

“As if he’d never seen you before?”

“Yeah.”

Harry nodded. “He did that with me too.” Ron stood looking down at his parchment. “I won’t tell the family,” Harry said quietly.

Ron looked up at him, grateful. “Thanks,” he said. Then “Weird!” he muttered again.

“What now?” asked Harry, to change the subject.

Ron’s face lit up. “Want to come back to The Burrow?”

“Yeah!”