Chapter 7: Paperwork

Breakfast the next morning at Grimmauld Place was a bleak affair. Molly Weasley tried to cheer every one up, but her smiles were strained, and her voice betrayed her anxiety. Harry was sitting beside Ron and across from Hermione, stirring his porridge listlessly.

"Harry dear, you need to eat something!" Ron's mother picked up a bowl of fruit and placed it in front of the pale teen.

Refilling his mug from the coffee pot, Sirius stood and went around the table to sit on Harry's other side. "Did you sleep at all last night, pup?" Shaking his head no, Harry let himself slump down and lean against his godfather. "At least not much. Why is my life always this…" he paused, desperately trying to come up with an adequate word. Not wanting to lie, Sirius tried a reassuring pat to Harry's arm.

Sensing that here was a situation needing a good talk without an audience, Molly started to herd her children, and Hermione, out of the kitchen to give the both of them a little privacy. "Come along, everyone, the parlour isn't going to clean itself." As Harry started to get up too, the matron added "Finish your breakfast first, Harry dear," before bustling out of the kitchen after the other teens, closing the door behind her.

Making an effort to eat at least a few spoonfuls of his porridge, Harry sat at the table beside the man who was the closest thing to family that he had, a not entirely comfortable silence stretching between them.

As he finally gave up on finishing his meal - his stomach just did not feel up to eat anything - Harry stood to join the others in their quest to make this house habitable. He had almost reached the door when it swung inward, admitting his Potions Professor.

"Black, Mr. Potter." The dour man nodded in greeting. "I want to speak with Mr. Potter." He shot a sour glance at the wizard still sitting at the table nursing his mug. "Alone, if you do not mind."

"But I do mind," answered Sirius, standing from his chair with suspicion clear on his gaunt face. "If you want to speak with my godson, I will be there too!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape sighed "Very well." He motioned for Harry to sit down again and followed him to the table, to start pacing in front of the other two. Spinning with billowing robes, to face his student, the professor took a deep breath. "Do you know about my position?"

Harry was surprised. Why would the professor, who so obviously hated him, want to speak with him in private, and then accept when Sirius refused to leave? Slowly nodding, Harry sat down in the chair he had sat in earlier. "You are a spy, sir. Not that anyone told me anything. But I was not totally unaware at the start of summer." The teen fixed his professor with a questioning gaze, "But I do not know for which side you're actually working." At this Sirius snorted snidely.

Harry wasn't sure, but for a moment he thought he saw a brief flicker of surprise in the dark eyes of his teacher. But as he continued to talk, he was hiding again behind his customary blank mask. "If either of them would come to question my loyalty, I would be in grave danger." That got another snort out of Sirius, he could not refrain from making a comment, but choose not to interrupt the Potions Master with words. Harry understood plainly enough without needing more explanation from Professor Snape. If Voldemort would suspect him, he would die, and probably not as fast as he would like. And if Dumbledore should come to doubt him… well, Harry wasn't sure what would happen then, but Azkaban and the Dementors were a possibility. As the Professor seemed to wait for a response from him, Harry nodded.

Satisfied, the spy continued, "Yesterday evening I went to report the reaction of the Order and the Headmaster. He…" Here the Potions Master closed his eyes briefly. "I do not think, that the Dark Lord intends to kill you, Mr. Potter. He asked after your grades, and what a parent would have to do to get a complete evaluation of their child's performance in class."

The young wizard was out of balance and desperately trying to understand. What was his Professor trying to tell him?

Sirius, on the other hand, was not speechless. "What are you trying to tell us, Snivellus ? Why should your master change his mind about Harry? He's tried to kill my godson three times now. If you have nothing useful to say, leave!" The voice of the animagus rose in volume toward the end of his speech, and he bristled in anger as he was ignored.

"Try to behave respectfully, Potter. The Dark Lord never was a patient man. Show respect, restrain your temper, and remember that you are not truly alone." Harry stood open-mouthed in the face of the softly spoken words.

Turning from the dumbfounded teen to the pissed-off animagus, Severus changed his tone back to the well known drawl. "Albus told me that there is a potions lab in this ruin, where can I find it?"

"Out the door, left, down the stairs." Sirius' voice was full of anger, and his desire to hex the insensitive spy was evident from the white knuckles of the hand clutching his wand.

Without more words, or any form of greeting, the Potions Master left the room, leaving behind an enraged animagus and a bewildered teen.

Outside the door, Severus took several deep breaths, to calm down, before he went to inspect the potions lab. He had done what he could to increase the boy's chance of surviving. Now only hope remained that he actually had interpreted the Dark Lord's plans in the right way. Steeling his nerves and pushing the unwanted and unhelpful doubts into the depths of his mind behind his shields, he started on the self-imposed task to have a reason to stay at headquarters, until it was time for Harry to leave for his appointment at the Ministry. Checking that the disk was still in his pocket, he drew his wand and opened the door cautiously.

In the kitchen Harry tried to wrap his mind around the warning?… advice?… the Head of Slytherin had just given him. And pondering the words, Harry realized that the man had not said to which of his masters he actually was loyal. But his last words could be interpreted as a promise to help Harry if need be. The teen was not sure, but it would match the pattern. Professor Snape had helped him in more than one dangerous situation, like the broom incident in his first year. While Harry was deep in thought, Sirius was rambling on about greasy-haired bothers under his breath.

Neither had much more time to ponder over the strange words of Severus Snape, as the old and wrinkled house-elf Kreacher popped into the kitchen. He held a scroll of parchment tightly to his tea-towel-clad chest. He was decidedly dirty, his tea towel more of a brownish-gray than the white it had probably started out with. "Master has letter from Ministry," he told them in a respectful tone and bowed, adding in a clear to understand mock-whisper. "Great disappointment for his mother, he was. What would mistress does? All this ghastly folk coming into respectable Noble and Ancient House of Black."

Ignoring the ramblings of the old elf, Sirius snatched the parchment from the spindly fingers, curiosity getting the better of him. He briefly looked at the seal, recognizing the colour and design as the one used by the DMLE. Belatedly realizing he ought to check the missive for nasty spells and curses first, he drew his wand - sadly not the one he got at Ollivanders as he had been eleven - set the scroll down on the kitchen table, and cast a few charms to detect anything dangerous.

They came back negative, and under the equally curious gaze of his godson, Sirius broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. The strange words of Professor Snape momentarily forgotten, Harry watched his godfather's face closely. He saw wonder, disbelief, happiness, and anger flicking by rather fast, and wondered what was written in the letter that could cause this mix of emotions in the wizard before him.

Throwing the letter on the table, missing the plate with bacon and sausages only by a hair, Sirius stood and began pacing across the entire available space, muttering angrily under his breath. Deciding to give the agitated man some time to calm down, Harry leant over the table, minding the jugs of milk and pumpkin juice, grabbing the scroll and sitting back to start reading.

Only a few sentences in, the green-eyed teen understood the mix of emotions. The letter had been send by Amelia Bones, the Head of Law Enforcement, informing Mr. Sirius Orion Black that the kiss on sight order had been revoked and a renewed investigation of his case started. That in itself was wonderful news, what followed was bewildering. The letter further informed Mr. Black, that charges of murdering a man named Peter Pettigrew had been dropped as he, as of yesterday, was being held, quite alive, in a Ministry holding cell. And therefore it was impossible that Mr. Black had murdered him.

This news slowly sinking in, Harry realized that the rat had probably played a part in the Wizengamot meeting of the previous day, meaning that Dumbledore could have told them that a new investigation was possible, even likely. Why had he not told? Still unsure of what to think, Harry looked up at his honorary uncle, who was pacing and even angrier-looking. "You don't believe that it just slipped his mind, do you?"

"No," answered Sirius, sighing and running his hand through his no longer matted hair "It would be foolish to believe this miscommunication was an accident." Having trouble believing this, Harry started to protest, but Sirius did not let him speak, continuing in a tense and angry tone, "As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, he could have made sure I got a trial, which I did not get the first time. He even could have started a new investigation, pointing out that a trial had never been held to start with, when you convinced him that I had been innocent all along. He chose not to." He ran his hand through his hair again and picked up his pacing. "So I have to believe, that he also chose not to tell me about this!" He pointed at the scroll lying on the table next to Harry's long cold breakfast.

His eyes full of hurt and betrayal, Harry looked up and asked in a small voice, "Why?"

"That is the question, pup. That is the question."

Theodore was watching his father and their summer guest speaking in the Floo room. He was sitting a little to the side with one of the books his tutor in ancient runes had assigned.

The day had been busy thus far. One of the rooms next to his own had been opened and cleaned. It was to be the room the heir of Lord Slytherin would be staying in, until the Lord had decided on a house, more likely a manor, to stay in, and had completed the warding.

It still felt surreal, that the Dark Lord was staying at Nott House and was going to adopt Harry Potter, the model child of all things Gryffindor. The young wizard was unsure if he should be envious of the opportunities the other boy would get, or pity him for becoming the Dark Lord's ward. Even if the so young looking wizard with the deep red eyes, had been decent so far, he could not forget the warnings his father had given him, only moments before the Dark Lord had stepped through the door to stay in their home.

The differences between what he had seen in the last week and the stories, that had been told in the common room over the years, all whispered and shared under promise of confidentiality, were startling. And Theodore had decided to err on the side of caution. So he treated the Dark Lord with the respect and caution he would use for a slightly insane madman.

He ceased to pretend to read, as the Dark Lord said, "I will not be long Benjamin. My new son will eat dinner with us later."

"We will await your return, Marvolo," answered Theo's father smiling. With a curt nod the Dark Lord turned to the floo, took a pinch of floo-powder from the tin on the mantle and, with a swirl of another set of borrowed robes, vanished in the green flames to the Ministry.

Theodore watched as his father breathed deeply and turned to him. Coming over, he sat beside him and Theo placed the book on the small table between the chairs.

"I want you to not only be polite to the Potter boy, but friendly. Try to be his guide into our society. After today he will be our Lord's son and heir, all of your classmates and probably all of Slytherin House will try to become an important part of the boy's life." A grave and serious face reinforced the importance of this orders, Theodore did not deceive himself into thinking that they could be anything else. "As they will stay a few days here, I count on your ability to make the most of it. Do you understand, Theodore?"

"Of course, father. I will do my best to become someone Potter will rely on." Hopefully he would be able to keep his promise.

At Grimmauld Place, Molly was desperately trying to find some clothes that could be considered respectable among those belonging to Harry. The teen sat on the bed in the room he shared with Ron, feeling empty and kind of numb. He watched the frantic witch riffling through the hand-me-downs he had got from the Dursleys, and his school robes. Watched as she sent Ron to fetch some things from the twins, and started to assemble some clothes from her children into an outfit Harry could wear to the appointment at the Ministry. Harry couldn't care less. All morning he had tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Dumbledore seemed not to care what would become of Sirius, even going so far as to keep information from him. At lunch his own problems had come back to his mind full force. All resident Order members, and quite a few others, had come to get a plate full of Molly's delicious cooking, discussing possible ways to keep Harry from being adopted. Only Professor Snape had said nothing, watching the proceedings with barely concealed scorn. And he was right, there was no way to keep Harry away from Tom Riddle . And they all knew it. Tiring fast of the useless babbling Harry had retreated into the bleak room he now sat in.

Finally Molly Weasley had collected a set of grey trousers, green t-shirt, black socks - those belonged to Fred - and Harry's best shoes and placed them next to Harry on the faded and threadbare bedspread. "Get dressed, Harry dear. Arthur is waiting downstairs and will take you to the appointment." With a pat to his shoulder and a sad, wavering smile, the witch left Harry alone.

Mechanically Harry removed the too big jeans and baggy t-shirt to change into the things Ron's mother had found for him. He felt alone, empty and defeated. At first he had felt so angry, but now all his anger had vanished, leaving nothing behind. Well, that was not quite right. With each article of clothing he put on, dread began filling him. Nervousness took hold of him as he started to wonder what would happen. What would life be like, living with the monster that had killed his parents? That grown wizards and witches feared, so much even that they did not dare speak his name. What would he look like? Harry imagined an older version of the Tom Riddle he had seen down in the Chamber of Secrets as he had gone off to rescue Ginny, back in his second year. But maybe he would look different. Packing his trunk - only a few things were outside, as the letter had stated he was to bring all his belongings - he finally had nothing more to do to stall.

His friends were waiting in the kitchen, together with all the others, who were sitting helplessly watching him walk to his end. At least it felt that way. Sighing, he grabbed one handle of his trunk and began his trek down to the others.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was dark. They all had either pitying looks or blank looks of despair on their faces, and Harry could not stand to look long at either of them. Mr. Weasley tried to be a little more optimistic, and Hermione chimed right in, "We'll keep searching for a way to get you back Harry. Sirius said he'll let me use the black library and hire a really good solicitor to find a way to adopt you or something. Just give us a little more time and we will find a way."

Smiling weakly, Harry gave her an awkward hug "Thank you Hermione, I know if there is something to be found to get me out of this you will not rest until you have found it." She nodded at this and wiped at her slightly damp eyes.

Ron gave him an awkward hug as well. "Don't let this get you down mate, 'Mione will find a way."

The twins patted him on the shoulder, each one on one side, and nodded encouragingly. "We'll write you," said one of them.

"Keep you up-to-date on our business," said the other.

"And if need be, just write and we'll find another flying car." This weak attempt at humour did not lighten the mood one bit. Sirius was the last to hug Harry, and he clung to him, almost as if he was the last solid thing in the world preventing him from drowning. With a last few waves at the others, Harry followed Mr. Weasley out the door, his last gaze over his shoulder landing on the spy standing in shadows and staring intently at the two departing figures. Then Mr. Weasley shrunk down Harry's trunk, which the teen had left in the hall, told Harry to take his arm, and apparated them both to their destination.

They landed on one of the apparation spots in the Great Entry Hall of the Ministry of Magic. Harry needed a moment to catch his breath, and then took a good look around. This was his first visit to this place, and beside his nervousness he still was curious what it looked like. To soon Mr. Weasley touched his arm. "We have to go, Harry. It would be bad if we were late." And so they set into motion through the crowd of witches and wizards to the elevators. Harry almost immediately felt his nerves again. If this kept up, he most likely would be ill.

The only thing Harry noticed on their way to the offices of the Department of Family Affairs where the paper-plane memos zooming around just over the heads of the people walking around. Arthur, noticing Harry's interest, explained. "These are memos and letters exchanged between the departments. I was told, that once they had tried to use owls. But this practice was abolished quickly, all the mess owls make…" he trailed off again and Harry had lost interest anyway.

As they reached the floor marked as 'Department of Family Affairs', Harry came out of his stupor. He needed his wits about him, or dangerous things could happen. The Potions Professor's words echoed through his head: show respect, rein in your temper . If he managed this, than maybe he would survive until his friends and family found a way to get him free.

Mr. Weasley stopped them in front of the office of Amanda Wisby and turned the smaller wizard to face him "Whatever happens, Harry, you are a part of our family. Don't forget that! And write as often as you can. Do not lose hope, Harry. We all want you back with us."

Not sure what to say Harry only nodded and took several calming breaths before he said, "Let's get this over with."

Releasing the teen's shoulders, the red-haired wizard knocked at the door and a cheery "Come in!" answered from inside. With his stomach rapidly falling below his knees, Harry followed Mr. Weasley into the office.

His first impression of the room was one of ordered chaos. There were stacks of files everywhere. Books and papers were stacked in haphazard heaps on several mismatching desks and chairs. The second thing he noticed was a wizard standing at one of the desks bent over it, obviously reading a long parchment filled with tiny writing. The man wore robes of a deep green over his suit of dark grey, and his hair carefully styled and with a little wave to it.

He ripped his gaze away from the man turning his world on its head as a cheery witch in a bright yellow summer dress, without robes, came around another desk, missing more than one of her heaps by a breath, smiling at him. "Mr. Potter wonderful, now all are here! I always love days on which I can reunite families. Come, come don't be shy." She ushered him over to the desk by which the other wizard was standing. Harry moved reluctantly away from his escort. How he wished he could wipe that smile from Mrs. Wisby's face. This was not a happy reunion as she seemed to believe. In his eyes, this was a kidnapping, nothing more, nothing less.

As the teen approached the desk, the man, whom Harry assumed was Voldemort, looked up from the papers. Harry's speculations had been spot on, he did look like an older version of the Tom Riddle he had met as a memory. Even his eyes were the blue he remembered them as being.

And then the man smiled, kind, open, friendly… and Harry felt something cold run down his spine. "Harry, how nice it is to finally meet you. I have heard many things about you in these last few days. And I am glad that we will be family from today onwards." He turned to the still beaming witch "Can we proceed?"

Harry had to suppress a shudder. The man had to be a consummate actor. There was no other way that he could sound so sincere. Avoiding to look at the man about to adopt him, Harry's gaze fell onto the papers lying on the desk. It was something titled Adoption Documents and what seemed to be his birth certificate. There it stated: Harry James Potter, son of James Charles Potter and Lily Potter née Evans.

"Yes naturally Mr. Riddle, here is the quill." She handed him a sleek-looking black quill with a very sharp tip. "You only need to sign your full name on this line." She indicated a dotted line at the bottom of the long parchment of the adoption document.

Harry wondered why there was no ink and stared, shocked that the process of his being handed over to the man that had tried to kill him on more than one occasion would run so fast. He watched, unable to avert his eyes, as the quill was set down on the line and Voldemort started to write Tom Marvolo Riddle in red ink and a flowing cursive. Magic swirled through the room and around the teen and the man adopting him. It sank into both of them, flashing in a blinding white light. As soon as he could see again, Harry saw the name on his birth certificate change. Harry changed to Henry and behind Potter appeared the name Riddle. Now he was Henry James Potter-Riddle, adopted son of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Even though the names of his real parents were still present on the document, the world would never be right again. Harry was sure that he had to look deathly pale, how the Ministry woman could still be so cheerful, he could not comprehend.

"And now the other part," said Voldemort rather cheerful himself, and Harry flinched in surprise. What was happening now? His eyes widened considerably as the evil wizard started to draw his wand, holding it with both hands in front of his chest at the height of his heart. He was even more surprised when the dark haired man started to speak in parseltongue .:I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, do hereby claim the title of Lord Slytherin. To fill the responsibilities of a Lord to his people, to further the welfare of the wizarding community, to serve magic. As heir, I declare my adopted son Henry James Potter-Riddle. So have I sworn, so mote it be:.

Again magic swirled through the room, this one feeling like more. More power, more responsibility, more obligations, more duties. It tested the man and boy claiming the titles of Lord and Heir Slytherin. Harry flinched as the magic settled like a heavy cloak not only in the man beside him, but in him as well. And with a faint feeling he watched the name on his birth certificate change again. Now it read Henry James Slytherin-Potter. He so wished that this was a bad dream.

But it was not to be. "Come, son, we should leave. There is much to discuss." Harry turned, numbly receiving his shrunken trunk from Mr. Weasley, who looked shaken, nodding and reaffirming the promise to stay in touch, and then followed his new guardian out of the office and back to the elevators.

"We will stay the next few days with Lord Nott and his son at their house. By then I will hopefully have found a house we can live in." After that they stayed silent on their way to the public floos.

"You will go first, Henry. Have you used the floo before?" Nodding his answer, unable to form words at the moment, Harry received a pinch of floo-powder. "The address is 'Nott House'." Throwing down the powder, Harry stepped into the flames and said, "Nott House." He was swept away into an uncertain future.