A/N: If you'd like to chat, please pop into my Discord server at discord dot gg slash ABfg74C

If you'd like to become a patron, that can be found at goo dot gl slash poJdF3 Although… this story isn't in the update rotation. And I'm several months behind again. Bleh.

Harry finished dressing quickly, dragged a comb pointlessly through his wild hair, and spent the next twenty minutes sitting down in the parlor, waiting for the girls to finish and thumbing through the Teach Yourself Japanese book he had purchased earlier.

To say he had a lot to learn would be an understatement. After noting that there there were no less than three writing systems and more than half a dozen common ways to refer to oneself (and many less common), he sighed and thanked the stars that Sakura already spoke English.

Hermione and Sakura came down just as he was considering ordering a butterbeer, and he thought better of it. Hermione looked slightly uncomfortable in the new outfit, and had taken the time to draw her bushy hair back into a bun. Sakura's hair looked freshly-brushed, and the ribbon tied it back differently. Harry ran his fingers helplessly through his own hair one more, sighed, and then straightened his tie.

They spent a few minutes debating what questions or issues were likely to be raised, before Harry cracked his neck and got to his feet. He took Sakura's hand again, and allowed Hermione to open the wall back to the Alley. It felt like even more eyes were on them now, both because it was later in the day and because their muggle formalwear stood out a little more than casual clothes. Despite his usual aversion to being stared at, he straightened his back, and smiled at Sakura when she looked nervously up at him.

They reached Gringotts at ten to four, passed the DMLE guards with their Probity Probes, and bowed to the goblin guards once more, Hermione confusedly following suit when Harry tugged on her sleeve. Harry thought these must be different guards than before, because they looked just as flummoxed as the original pair.

Seeing no line, Harry made to stroll up to the desk of the goblin teller he'd worked with that morning, when he was intercepted by his Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall. "May I ask what you think you're doing here, Mister Potter, Miss Granger?" she asked sharply, her stern face causing Sakura to shift behind Harry again.

Harry simply reached behind his back so that Sakura could take his other hand, away from the strict teacher. "Visiting the bank, Professor," he said blandly. She had clearly been sent to watch the bank by Dumbledore, but on reflection, she was far from the most unwelcome member of the Order who could have been here. "Good afternoon," he added to the goblin, who was watching the exchange warily. "I have a four PM appointment."

"Indeed," the goblin said, briskly. Shall I take it that these three will be accompanying you?"

Harry considered this. He could exclude McGonagall, keeping the matter of Sirius' Will to himself, but he saw no real benefit to shutting the Professor out. She wasn't his guardian and after the Will's execution he would legally be an adult, but on the other hand, she had been firmly in his corner last year when it came to dealing with the Ministry's lackey, Umbridge, and including her today would be a show of trust. Additionally, she might very well have advice to offer based on years of experience that neither he nor Hermione had.

"Yes, myself plus three," he told the goblin. "Harry Potter, Sakura Haruno, Hermione Granger, and Minerva McGonagall."

Hermione audibly swallowed at his casual use of his teacher's given name, but after giving everyone else's full name it would have felt odd to say 'Professor'.

"Very good, Master Potter. Follow me, please." The goblin put up a small placard on his desk, and hopped down from the chair, leading the four of them through the iron door marked Offices that Harry had noticed earlier. Unlike the main doors leading to the vaults, which turned abruptly to carved-out rock, here the marble of the main atrium gave way to a highly-polished dark stone that he thought might be basalt, with metal doors set at regular intervals. The ceilings were rather low, barely six feet high, which he realized after a moment was probably a small revenge by the goblins as a whole when they had to deal with wizards.

Harry, fortunately, was not claustrophobic, and none of them were tall enough to need to duck, though Professor McGonagall did have to remove her hat. "Just what is this all about, Mister Potter?" she asked, clearly displeased that he had dodged the question earlier.

"I assumed you knew, Professor," he answered honestly. "I received a letter from Gringotts yesterday asking that I visit urgently. The matter is personal, but it will affect more than just me, and I'd appreciate your input on any legal decisions I have to make today."

He glanced at her, and noticed she looked a little taken-aback at his open confidence. "And what personal matter is this?"

"The Will of Sirius Black, Madam," the goblin answered for him, coming to a stop beside one of the many unlabeled iron doors. He rapped on it sharply, and it swung open, apparently by magic. "Beyrek will assist you." The goblin then said something in Gobbledegook through the open doorway, in which Harry caught the words 'Potter' and 'Black'.

"Thanks, Razhig," said a familiar, human voice from inside the room.

Harry bowed to Razhig, feeling Sakura do the same. "May your victories be eternal, Razhig." He thought that was what Gornuk had said yesterday.

Razhig masked his surprise well, although his eyebrows shot up. He bowed in return and rasped something else in his native language, giving Harry a close-lipped smile, and strode away back toward the Atrium.

"I have no idea what he just said," Harry remarked to nobody in particular, leading Sakura into the room. His cousin giggled.

"He wished you glory on the battlefield, and said you might not be so bad for a wizard," said the same familiar voice, and Harry grinned at Bill Weasley, folded behind a desk he was sharing with a one-eyed goblin who had said nothing so far, but was watching Harry with interest. There were scars from what looked like burns twisting across the goblin's left cheek, and in place of his left eye was what looked like a brass jeweller's loupe.

"I suppose that's high praise?" he asked, taking a seat in front of the goblin and hoisting Sakura into his lap. Hermione took the second chair, and Professor McGonagall conjured herself a third.

"Perhaps the best compliment a goblin can pay to a human who is not a close friend," the goblin at the desk — presumably Beyrek — spoke up at last. He had a surprisingly smooth voice for a goblin. "Now, to business. You have perused the Will of Sirius Orion Black?"

He opened a folder and pulled out what was unmistakably another copy of Sirius' will. Harry withdrew his own copy, laying it on the desk where he and Hermione could both see it, and let Sakura have the heavy parchment envelope and the note from Gringotts to examine.

"I have," Harry said. "It seems straightforward, but as I'm not a solicitor I'd prefer to go through it, if we have the time."

"Fortunately," said Beyrek, "There is little to go over. If not for some alterations to the document made just a few months ago, the Will would have been executed without your presence being required at all. You add a reasonable amount of gold to your own account, and you inherit all of the late Mister Black's personal possessions, including his property at-" the Goblin consulted another page in the folder. "-Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, England." He turned back to the Will, then paused. "I notice I am only able to recall that address as long as I am actively looking at a specially-ensorcelled Gringotts document, so I gather the property has been placed under the Fidelius charm. As the owner, you should be able to recall it yourself, but if you are not the Secret Keeper, you may have difficulty inviting company over."

"I'll figure something out, I'm sure," he said. "I was given to understand that there was some question of the legality of my inheriting the property, since I'm not a Pureblood myself. Is there a way to confirm, magically, that I own the house?"

"Everything I've mentioned up to now is, essentially, already done. No input from you is required. This also, I understand, includes ownership of a House Elf." Beyrek scribbled a signature at the bottom of the first page. "So, you could call the Elf, and if you are indeed the owner, he will have to obey any orders he is given."

Harry scowled at the mention of Sirius' elf, Kreacher, who had lied to Harry last year and indirectly contributed to Sirius' death. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He owned Kreacher now. This was something he'd have to deal with, and as much as he detested both the mad old Elf in particular and the enslavement of House Elves as a whole, Kreacher knew far too much about the Order of the Phoenix to ever be safely set free.

"So be it. Can I deal with that now?" The goblin nodded, setting the Will down for the moment. Harry took a breath. "Kreacher!"

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared in the room. It was very wrinkled, with a snoutlike nose, giant ears like a bat's with a lot of white hair in them, and enormous bloodshot eyes. It wore nothing but a grimy rag as a loincloth, and was stamping its small feet and shrieking at the top of its voice, "Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't! Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, not the Potter brat! Kreacher wants his new mistress LeStrange!"

Sakura had jumped when Kreacher appeared, and was staring avidly at the new arrival. Hermione was biting her lip, and both Bill and the till-now silent Professor McGonagall eyed the Elf with distaste. Harry sighed, trying to decide how to phrase his order, knowing that leaving loopholes could be quite dangerous. "Kreacher, be silent until I dismiss you."

The Elf's mouth continued to work, but the noise was cut off immediately. After a moment, he gave up trying to scream and simply glared balefully at Harry, who was again considering how to go about his next order.

"Kreacher, when I dismiss you, you will return to 12 Grimmauld Place and promptly begin the process of bringing the property up to a respectable, Pureblood standard. First, you will secure the house so that no one may enter by any means until I arrive personally. Then you will wash yourself and make yourself presentable by Pureblood standards. Next, your priorities are to clean two side-by-side bedrooms on the third floor, closest to the bathroom, and the bathroom itself. Make these rooms fit for human habitation and use, and remove anything that might be dangerous to myself or my guests." He thought for a moment. "Any cursed objects or anything that may be dangerous to…humans, elves, owls, cats, kneazles, werewolves, phoenixes, or other guests, you will place in the Drawing room. You will return all the items that you secured last summer to the Drawing room as well. You do not need to throw away anything that is not rubbish. You will work to remove or exterminate any magical or mundane pests. If there are any objects or creatures which you are unable to remove, you will tell me when I arrive. After those three rooms, you may proceed to clean the rest of the house as would be expected by any reasonable Pureblood Master. You will no longer insult myself or my guests. You will not injure or punish yourself — if you are unable to complete any of these tasks you will inform me. Please nod if you understand your orders."

Kreacher, still silent, gave a short nod. He was still glaring at Harry with dislike, but there was something like curiosity in his expression now as well.

"You are dismissed from this place, Kreacher. Get to work."

With another loud crack, the old House Elf disapparated again. Hermione was looking very disapproving, but she didn't say anything. Sakura looked from the spot where Kreacher had stood to Harry. "Who was that, Onii-chan?"

"That was Kreacher, and he belongs to the house that I now own," Harry answered. "I will tell you about House Elves later, okay?"

Understanding that he had more work to do, Sakura nodded. She was plainly bored with the envelope she'd been examining before, and starting to fidget. Bill, smiling, conjured a small wooden puzzle box, which she took happily.

Beyrek was eyeing Harry appraisingly. "Rather airtight orders, I do believe," he said. "You may have a future in contract-writing, Master Potter. Now then, where were we?" He glanced at the next page of the Will. "The late Mister Black's alterations, yes. In addition to naming you his heir, he filed paperwork such that you would be emancipated upon receiving the Black inheritance."

At this, Professor McGonagall sat up straighter. "Now, see here-"

Beyrek ignored her. "As you have demonstrated ownership of the Black family House Elf in front of multiple witnesses, there can be no doubt you have received the Inheritance, so to complete the documentation you simply need to sign here."

Bill slid the document across the desk to Harry, along with a long, narrow box. Harry opened it, and gritted his teeth immediately. Inside was a thin black quill with a very sharp point. The back of his right hand tingled, and he made no move to pick it up. "This is a Contract Quill, Harry," Bill explained. "When you write with it-"

"I know what it does," he said shortly, trying to keep his breathing steady, and electing to read over the parchment that he was signing first. It seemed straightforward enough: As the eldest child of the Pureblood Potter line, and the designated heir and demonstrated inheritor of the Black line, the undersigned hereby claimed all rights and responsibilities, et cetera.

"Why on Earth would you be familiar with a Contract Quill, Mister Potter?" McGonagall asked sharply.

Sighing, Harry laid his right fist on the desk, fingers clenched, and the thin white scars on the back of his hand stood out in the light from the wall-lamps. I must not tell lies, they read, in his own handwriting.

"Umbridge gave me quite a few detentions last year, as you might recall, Professor," he answered, carefully keeping his voice even. "She had me copying lines fairly often."

Apparently noticing his tension, Sakura asked, "What does that feather do, Onii-chan?"

As he had done earlier, Harry held his breath for a moment, then let it out in one long exhale, willing himself to relax. "It's a quill-pen," he told Sakura. "Wizards and Magical beings favor them for writing, even though it's a bit old-fashioned. Normally you need to fill them with ink," he indicated the inkpot on Beyrek's desk. "But this one is special. Instead of using ink, it scratches the back of your hand, and uses your blood instead. It heals over very fast, but if you use it repeatedly for a long time, it can leave a mark, like this one on my hand, see?"

"They are rarely seen outside of Gringotts, where the combination of blood and magic makes for truly binding contracts," Beyrek put in, the loupe in his eye socket glinting as he looked from Harry's hand to his face. "It is…highly irregular for a Contract Quill to be used more than, perhaps, twice in a day."

Sakura was frowning at the scars on his hand now, though she didn't seem overly distressed at the idea of writing in blood. After a moment she scowled at the quill, then returned to her puzzle box, twisting it deftly in her small hands.

"Mister Pott–…Harry." He turned to look at McGonagall directly. She looked beside herself. "Why was I not informed of this when it occurred?" Her brogue seemed a little thicker than usual.

"There was nothing you could have done, Professor," he answered honestly. "Umbridge was placed there by Fudge. When I was assigned detention I was sent to see you, and you advised me to keep my head down. As you might have noticed, I'm not very good at that."

Hermione let out a snort of laughter, then immediately blushed and snatched the still-unsigned contract to read it, hiding her face behind it.

McGonagall's lips twisted, clearly unsatisfied with his answer, but unable to argue with him. She had helped him with Umbridge wherever she was able, but there was very little to be done as the old toad had consolidated power. She read through the contract after Hermione, then slowly passed it back to Harry. "This document is what it appears to be, Mister Potter. Harry. But I urge you to consider carefully whether you truly wish to go through with this; being legally considered a minor, frustrating though it is when we all must experience it, is nevertheless a meaningful protection in the eyes of the law."

"Such as when illegally entered into a binding magical contract?" he asked rhetorically. "Or when facing a full criminal trial for a case of underage magic? Mister Weasley and Professor Dumbledore both said it was…irregular to have been tried by the full Wizengamot in the latter case. And as for the Goblet of Fire…"

Bill sighed. "You were compelled to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, and recognized as a competitor by the Heads of three prestigious schools of magic and multiple Ministerial Heads of Department. Then you won, and were presented your winnings by the Minister himself."

"Both cases are valid legal precedent for you to be considered an adult," Beyrek put in. "Together, the case is nearly ironclad. I believe it was with this in mind that the late Mister Black drafted this document, Master Potter."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged helplessly, and then down at Sakura. Her gaze was focused as she concentrated on the puzzle box, and she made a small, happy sound as one piece moved smoothly. There was really no debate. The Ministry and the World were not going to wait for him to grow up, and without the rights and responsibilities of an adult wizard, he would be forced to send Sakura back to the Dursleys.

He reached for the Contract Quill.

Professor McGonagall leaned past Hermione to lay a hand on top of his, though she didn't grab him. "Harry," she said, her voice sounding a little thick. "The Wizarding World owes you a great deal, and has been far from fair, but at the same time you have been…held a little apart. Tucked safely away at your relatives' home, however dull, you were safe."

Harry didn't jerk his hand away, and in contrast to the previous year, he kept a tight rein on his temper. Instead he said, quietly, "My earliest memories — the ones that aren't Dementor-induced, anyway," let her make of that what she would. "— they're of being sent to my room, usually because I asked a question about how something worked, or why my cousin was allowed to do something I wasn't. I'd get a smack on the head from my uncle, or a rap on the knuckles from my aunt, and shut into the cupboard under the stairs. That was where I slept, where I lived as far back as I could remember, until I turned eleven."

Hermione, who knew at least some of this, was biting her lip worse than before. Bill and McGonagall looked stricken. Sakura, still focused on her puzzle, seemed to hear the flatness of his tone and leaned back against him. He rested his chin on top of her head and continued.

"It wasn't because space was at a premium. My uncle is rather well-paid. The house has four bedrooms. The master, of course. A guest room. My cousin Dudley's bedroom. And Dudley's second bedroom, where he kept all the toys and belongings he'd broken, or didn't want, or couldn't fit into his first bedroom. My aunt and uncle had me move into that room after my Hogwarts letter arrived, because it was addressed to Mister H Potter in The Cupboard Under The Stairs."

McGonagall's hand was trembling slightly now.

"Last year, finally, Professor Dumbledore explained that I was raised at Privet Drive because there was a charm that kept me safe from Voldemort and the Death Eaters as long as I could call the place where my mother's blood dwelt, 'home'. And I played along, Professor; I agreed to go back again this year, having lost my godfather, the only adult who'd ever seemed to want me around for being myself — having come back from a summer in which I was cut off from the Wizarding World entirely, for my own alleged good. And I came back to find another child, a blood relation that I knew nothing about until that moment, locked in that same damn cupboard under the stairs, sharing the pitiful space with a packing crate bigger than she is. I may have been willing to deal with the Dursleys for two more summers, Professor, but I would never wish my so-called family on another child."

The Transfiguration Professor made no further move to stop Harry as he took the quill and signed. There was a burning as his signature was carved into the back of his hand, over the scars Umbridge's detention had left, but the cut healed over cleanly and only the older scars remained. The parchment shone for a moment, the magic in it evidently taking effect. Beyrek slipped it back into the folder, which also glowed briefly after he shut it. There was an intangible something an instant later; a momentary chill ran up Harry's spine, and was gone.

"I guess that was the Trace dissolving." Rubbing the back of his hand, Harry looked at McGonagall. "As far as I'm concerned, my mother's blood is sitting right here in my lap, and as soon as I leave Gringotts today I have no intention of ever again referring to Privet Drive as my home."

"This concludes the matter of the late Mister Black's Will, Mister Potter."

Harry blinked, registering the goblin's changed form of address for him. All the goblins he had spoken with, in fact, had called him 'Master Potter' up to now, presumably because he was legally a minor. Now, he was a Mister. "Thank you, Beyrek. I'd also like to inquire about a matter of magical adoption." McGonagall drew a breath, but didn't interrupt.

Beyrek shuffled through his desk for the correct document. "This type of form is quite standardized," he said, locating it. "We will require a signature and a thumbprint from you, then your prospective ward." He paused. "There are no recorded cases of magically adopting a nonmagical person…" he added delicately.

"She's a little young to have had incidents of accidental magic," Harry agreed, "but she was able to see the Knight Bus through its anti-muggle enchantments. I don't know if that's conclusive, but I'm sure there's another way to be certain."

Beyrek seemed to consider this. "I think," he said finally, "that this process will reveal any latent magical ability through the blood, though the young Miss may be very tired afterward. You, Mister Potter, initial here, sign here, then prick your thumb and press here."

Some more stinging from the Contract Quill that vanished just as quickly, and Harry passed it carefully to Sakura. She took it, but hesitated. "Does she have to sign in English?" Harry asked, guessing her question.

"No, and there is no initialling for the ward, as it is presumed their name is about to change."

"It will hurt for just a moment, Sakura-chan," he told her. "And then it heals over and feels better. See, there's no scars from today." He showed her his hand. "But we don't have to do this now, imouto, or at all, if you're not sure-"

He cut himself off, because she had already begun scribbling in the space Beyrek had indicated. Harry peered at the shining red characters, 春野サクラ, as Sakura carelessly poked her thumb as well and pressed it to the final circle. As this parchment, too, began to glow, Sakura dropped the Contract Quill back in its case with a grimace, and turned in Harry's lap to give him a rib-cracking hug to rival Hermione's. Smiling at Bill's grin and Hermione's happy tears, Harry wrapped his own arms around his cousin — no, his sister.

Glancing down at the parchment again, he saw the odd, complex characters that Sakura had written shrink slightly, and new letters — English letters — filled in superscript above them: Haru and no over the two more complex characters, and Sa, ku, ra by the three simpler ones. In a final, previously empty box at the bottom of the document, a new name was slowly traced out: Sakura Haruno-Potter.

The same sort of prickle ran down Harry's spine again, and he felt Sakura shiver, then yawn.

"I think that Sakura might be carrying a Trace now?" he said, curiously. "Is there a way to tell?"

McGonagall drew her wand and flicked it, and Sakura seemed to emit a faint, hazy blue aura. "She is indeed," the Professor said, eyeing the pink-haired girl speculatively.

"How?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "I read in Hogwarts, A History that the Trace is applied by a child's name being recorded in the Book of Admittance by the Quill of Acceptance, but the Book only accepts names after the child demonstrates magical output above a certain threshold. Professor, if it's possible to be recorded this young, why wait until accidental magic occurs naturally? If it's possible to tell by enacting a magical contract, why do so many Pureblood families endanger their children to 'force' accidental magic use?"

"Because wizards have no sense, girl," Beyrek answered her before McGonagall could. "Is there any further assistance Gringotts may provide you today, Mister Potter?"

Bill sighed, apparently at the goblin's attitude, but his lips quirked in such a way that he plainly accepted the critique. Harry supposed he did as well — as early as his first year, he'd been confronted with an awful lack of common sense in the Wizarding world, from failing to fence off the Forbidden Forest, to staircases at Hogwarts that shifted destinations on their own, to Bill's own father, Mr Weasley, who collected batteries and plugs and had once enchanted a Ford Anglia to be able to fly.

"How about, er…" he cast about for the term he wanted. "Wealth management? I haven't given my vault much thought up to now, just bought my school things, but as I still need to make it through a few more years of Hogwarts and now think about the upkeep on a house without having a job yet…"

Beyrek twisted the loupe in his eye socket, glancing down at the first paper in the folder Sirius' signed Will had gone into. "Counting the late Mister Black's liquid assets with your own, your vault now contains something on the order of one hundred thousand galleons, or approximately five hundred thousand pounds sterling." He paused while the humans in the room choked slightly, and Sakura yawned again, burrowing into Harry's shoulder. "Gringotts does offer wealth management services, for a fee of one-point-five percent annually on the first fifty thousand galleons managed, less point-zero-two percent for each subsequent ten thousand."

"Meaning one point-four percent at my current standing," Harry finished, having done the math himself. "Rather a lot, but I suppose I can count on Gringotts for a good return." He let the statement trail off, not quite a question, and Beyrek gave a toothy grin.

"I do believe Gringotts is going to enjoy doing business with you, Mister Potter. Additional services will be available, at additional cost, though these fees are usually flat. Sign here, with ink this time." Harry did so. "Now, I am stepping slightly outside my scope as a Gringotts employee, but as you have expressed concern about your future income, and have now signed to have Gringotts manage your wealth… You are, as it happens, wealthy enough that you needn't work for a decade or more. With careful investment, it may never be necessary for you to be traditionally employed. However, that being said, it may be in your best interest to additionally to hire a publicist. Wizards; indeed, humans in general, with far less money and fame than you have made a living without traditional work."

"I see," Harry said, frowning slightly. That would bear some looking-into. "Thank you, Beyrek." He bowed. "May you find glory on the battlefield and your enemies fear your name."

The goblin barked a laugh. "A little non-traditional, but decidedly in the spirit of our new business relationship. We'll make a Goblin-friend out of you yet, Mister Potter. Good day, and as it is now our responsibility to see to, I believe I will leave you with an optimistic 'May your gold always flow'."

Harry inclined his head once more and got to his feet, still carrying Sakura, who was clinging to him like a limpet, plainly still very tired. Hermione, McGonagall, and Bill all stood as well; Bill having to stoop to not scrape his head on the low ceiling. They all filed out, Harry nodding to the teller at the desk, and the goblin guards as he passed.

"I will leave you here, Mister Potter," McGonagall said as they stepped outside. Her tone was not exactly cold, but was somewhat clipped. "I shall have to inform the Headmaster of your new…living situation." She Disapparated before Harry could open his mouth to tell her it was really none of Dumbledore's business. Harry was left to huff in irritation.

"I need to get going too, Harry," Hermione told him. "I want to catch the train back before dinner."

"Thanks for coming, Hermione." He shifted Sakura to his other shoulder so he could give her a one-armed hug, and she strode off back toward the Leaky Cauldron.

"Not that I mind, but what are you doing here, Bill?" he asked instead.

"Dumbledore came to the Burrow really early this morning, asking if you'd come round. Mum's been going ballistic ever since, wondering if you'd been kidnapped," he chuckled. "Floo'd me at about five o'clock telling me to keep an eye out for you at work. Then the twins called around lunchtime and said you were around the Alley, so I figured I'd be seeing you."

"Fair enough, but why are you sticking around now?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as Bill glanced back up toward the bank.

"Ah, well…" His ears turned a little red. "I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Who-?"

"Zere you are, William!" Harry turned. Coming down the steps toward them was a very beautiful young woman, with long silvery-blonde hair. "Ah, 'Arry! I had not expected to see you! And who is zis?"

Sakura, who had raised her head to look at the newcomer, promptly buried her face in his shoulder again.

"Hello, Fleur," Harry smiled at his fellow Triwizard champion. "Your English has improved a lot. This is my cousin Sakura. Don't mind she's a little shy."

"'Er 'air is very pretty," Fleur said, politely, coming to a stop by Bill and slipping her arm through his. "Is she a… William, what is ze word? Like Tonks?"

"Metamorphmagus," Bill supplied.

"She's not," Harry answered. "I guess she must get it from her father, because those eyes are definitely from my side of the family."

"I am staying with William's family for ze summer," Fleur informed him. "Zey were kind enough to let me stay, because William wishes me to get to know zem. Will you and Sakura be joining us?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think there would be quite enough room for us. We'll probably stay at the Leaky again tonight, and go back to Sirius' house tomorrow morning. Good seeing you, Fleur. Tell everyone I'm fine, Bill, and I'll be in touch once the house is settled. I more than owe the Weasleys some return hospitality after all these years."

Bill, of course, waved this off. "You're as good as family, Harry, you ought to know that by now. Sakura too; just you wait until Mum hears about her."

Harry sighed, but didn't bother asking Bill to keep it to himself. The news would spread, through the Order if nothing else, and he was sure Mrs Weasley's mothering would quickly extend to his new sister too. Nodding to Bill and Fleur, he carried Sakura back up Diagon Alley.

He nodded to the real innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, Tom, when he passed back through the barrom, and grinned at Hannah, who was waiting tables. Once back in their room, Sakura's earlier energy made a return, so she and Harry spent the afternoon looking through the books they'd purchased with Hermione in Muggle London. Harry, taking some notes, determined that Sakura was averaging several years above her age level, while he himself was about a year behind where he should be — not as bad as he'd feared, but he had a feeling it was going to be a long summer.

A/N: I haven't updated anything in quite a while, but as my job hunt drags on, I need to express some creative energy! Sorry to the folks waiting for something else; I'm trying to get in the habit of writing at least a little every day.

I went back and did some very slight tweaking to a bit of dialogue at the end of the last chapter, given that I understand honorifics better than I did two years ago. Shout out to Aglio - Saggezza for the original correction way back when. I also just invented the point about goblin forms of address ('master' vs 'mister'), so I had to tweak an instance of that, as well.

I'm using the exchange rate I found on the Wiki, plus some estimates for the volume of gold in Harry's vault, roughly doubled after including Sirius'. Honestly, the numbers themselves aren't THAT important, I just wanted to make clear that while Harry is rich, he's not quite 'the one percent'. He is very much not 'too big to fail', and so he has to figure out income somehow.