lomonaaeren

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

Title: Ancient and Noble Houses (40/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny
Warnings: Angst, violence
Rating: R
Summary: Harry finds out that being the heir to the Black fortune—at least once he’s of age and residing in Grimmauld Place full-time—is a lot different than just inheriting some vaults and property. He’s changing in ways he doesn’t understand, both body and mind. Even with Draco Malfoy to help him, the chance that Harry can resist becoming the perfect Black heir, with all that implies, seems slim.
Author’s Notes: This story came from wondering exactly what the house part of “The Ancient and Noble House of Black” might mean. This fic will have short chapters, and update every Friday and Saturday.

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Forty--There Must Be No Light

Harry stared at Kreacher. Kreacher had stopped wringing his hands now, but had them clasped in front of him as if he was praying. He edged a foot towards Harry, driving him subtly backwards from the door, as if he thought Harry wouldn't notice.

Harry felt the tide of rage rising up in him, drowning some of the subtler shadows and nuances of the situation. He held it back, because it would mean torturing Kreacher again if he let it out. But it was like balancing a boulder flat on his palms, and he couldn't do it for long.

"Tell me why," he said.

For once, Kreacher didn't seem inclined to hint and riddle about things. He bowed his head and whispered, "Master Harry must be preparing to undergo the ordeal. There is being a ritual purification and cleansing. He has not been doing that yet."

Harry relaxed a little. Not that it was good news, since it would prevent him from getting a glimpse into the room unless he wanted to hurt Kreacher, but at least this confirmed it was the right room. And a purification and cleansing might even give them a clue to what the ordeal was, if they wanted to do a little more research before undergoing it.

"Will you help me with the cleansing?" Harry asked.

Kreacher looked up with at him with such joy sparking in his eyes that Harry winced. Kreacher either didn't notice the wince or had never counted on Harry undergoing it right now, because he said eagerly, "Master Harry is making the right choice! Yes, this is Kreacher's doing. This is Kreacher's job. Kreacher is preparing the heirs for the ordeal from the Black family for all the years that he has served!"

Harry held back the little quiver of suspicion and irritation he had at that, and asked, "When should I begin the cleansing?" He was trying for a high, lofty, formal tone, but from the way that Kreacher studied him, as if he was a horse that Kreacher was going to prepare to sell, he wondered if it was the best thing to try and fit into the little elf's delusions.

"It must be at the dark of the moon," Kreacher said. "It wills be a cloudy night, no light shining from stars. There must be no light."

Draco shivered behind him; Harry could feel it. Harry maintained his stern, distant expression, and nodded. "Of course. Should there be witnesses?"

"Master Draco and Mistress Narcissa can be witnessing it," Kreacher said, after thinking about it a bit. "No one else."

Harry was privately determined to bring Ron and Hermione along anyway, but he said nothing about that. "How long will the cleansing take?" he asked. "And the ordeal?"

"The cleansing be taking an hour," Kreacher said, bobbing his head, reading from a silent script in front of him, apparently. "The ordeal be taking the night."

Draco stiffened behind him. Harry didn't dare turn around yet, since talking too much to Draco about what they intended to do might alert Kreacher, but he suspected Draco had come up with an idea. He only nodded again and said, "Then I should come back on the new moon night? The first night of the new moon?"

"That is when the dark be having its power." Kreacher looked at him in a way that made Harry want to flinch. It seemed to tear up all his disguises and all his plans about surviving the ordeal with help and leave him crawling in the light, helpless and exposed. "Master Harry is being ready for it?"

"I have to be," Harry said, which was the true answer no matter what he ultimately did on that night.

Kreacher nodded, and then turned and waved his hand at the door of the small room. A tracery of dark green light sprang into being on it, wavering back and forth as it grew like a vine around the knob and down to the hinges. "Then Master Harry is be leaving this room alone," he said, and urged Harry and Draco and Narcissa gently back in the direction of the kitchen. "Master Harry is not needing to go in there until the ordeal begins."

Harry cursed under his breath. They probably wouldn't be able to discuss what they had seen until later, since Kreacher seemed intent on feeding them and chaperoning them, and that meant Narcissa might have to leave. Hell, he and Draco might have to. They had sneaked out of Hogwarts easily enough, but McGonagall or another professor might ask about one of them.

Draco caught Harry's arm a second later, a tight grip just below the elbow. Harry turned his head towards him. He caught a glimpse of Kreacher watching approvingly. He probably thought it was fitting that two people who were heirs of the Black house and line had turned towards each other, Harry thought.

"I know what the ordeal is," Draco whispered. "There's only one that lasts until the dawn after the new moon."

Harry bit his lips in frustration. It was even worse to have to sit here and eat biscuits under Kreacher's watchful eye, now that he knew Draco had information he wanted to impart.

But it seemed to be what they had to do. Harry nodded heavily back and murmured, "Do what you can to keep it to yourself for now." Then he walked into the kitchen and prepared to sit down and praise Kreacher's cooking.

He saw Narcissa's eyes on him as he did. He grimaced wryly at her. She had helped, if not as much as he had thought she originally would when they invited her here. He wondered if she would manage to come back for the ordeal, or not. The first night of the new moon was a week away.

I have to be careful. Neither Narcissa nor Draco could help him much, not with the spells on their wands restricted to fourth-year level. Draco had managed the more complicated healing spell that had saved Harry from the poison only with the house's help and approval.

And they wouldn't have that if they were trying to interfere with the way the house thought the ordeal should play out.

*

Of course it would be that ordeal.

Draco wished there was someone to praise him for the acting job he did, as he sat there eating biscuits and sipping tea and discussing his marks with his mother. The suspicion had started welling up when Kreacher talked about the cleansing and the lack of light, but he hadn't been sure until the end.

There was an ordeal that Draco's father had told him the tale of, an ordeal that involved going naked and purified into a dark cavern and coming out again at dawn. Or not coming out, either way. But it would confront the person undergoing that kind of ritual, or ordeal, with their own soul. It would make the soul into a weapon against them, Draco thought. Or it could. And that would be the point of the Black ritual, most likely. It would tear away everything that was good about the person undergoing the ordeal, the current heir.

Draco shivered.

His mother passed him a biscuit, and a stern look. To keep control of himself for right now, Draco knew. They had to get away from the watchful eyes of this house-elf before they could do anything else.

Draco controlled the shivering by casting a Warming Charm on himself. As he slid his wand away, he caught his mother's eye again.

This time, he was sure it was deliberate, and not a warning. He didn't know what she wanted, though, and just barely kept from staring at her in confusion, which would have warned the house-elf. Right now, he was muttering away happily on the other side of the kitchen, stamping back and forth and declaring that he was satisfied to anyone who would listen, but he could turn around again any second.

Narcissa looked back and forth between him and Potter, a quick pass of her eyes that Draco had to notice and interpret on his own.

When he thought he understood, he almost fell from the chair. His mother couldn't be happy about the house reaching out to them, of course, although the money passed into their vaults would help. And she wouldn't be happy about the risk to Draco from the ordeal, either.

But she might approve of him and Potter being joined together in another way--the way that Draco had thought he could appreciate being the real Harry Potter's consort, just not the consort of the twisted Black heir.

Potter looked over at them, and where he turned his head right now, Kreacher turned. Draco smoothed the shock from his face and picked up the next biscuit, round, made of white chocolate, with dark chocolate in the center.

"This is very good," he murmured. Kreacher relaxed and scurried off to get more of them. Potter continued looking at him.

Draco stared back, wordless. He would tell Potter everything he could about the ordeal the minute they were out of the house.

In the meantime, he wondered how to communicate to Potter, if he could, the notion that both his mother and his house-elf thought they would be good together.