4 Back to England- Part 3

A bumpy vomit inducing journey later, Harry stood at the corner heaving. Everybody talked about how bad Portkey was, but no ever mentioned how bad could it be.

Fortunately, it seems he was not portkey-sick. Except some issues with his senses, he felt okay. Greeting the hostess, he walked away from the landing spot. Unlike France, the British Portkey Point was on some open field. As far as he could see, there was nothing. No washroom, no checking dept., immigration dept. and the rest. They didn't even have a place to rest. Barbarians.

After getting away from the landing point, he quietly took out a small mirror. The mirror was supposedly connected to another one, which belonged to Aunt Cassandra. Both of them were linked with a modified protean charm along with few other enchantments. He gently knocked on the mirror. The glass immediately rippled and his reflection was replaced by a stern but beautiful face.

"Aunt Cassandra. Greetings." he politely greeted her with a slight bow. Not low enough to show deference, not high enough to be called disrespectful. It was a shallow bow just to show respect and also an understanding, that he was equal in standing.

The supposedly Aunt Cassandra didn't reply but just looked over him, from top to bottom. A few seconds later, she nodded as if she was pleased with what she saw. "Greatings Nephew. I believe you have landed. I will be sending over Kreacher to pick you up."

With that the mirror went blank. Honestly, he didn't know what to expect. But from what he had managed to gather, Aunt was a no nonsense strict women. She was a famous scholar, with numerous thesis under name. Most of them were about Dark Magic, Curses and Ancient Magick. And from what he had seen now, atleast the first part was true.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he missed a low crack noise just behind him. He was brought to attention by a rough voice. The voice itself was bland but at the same time it held an awe and reverence towards the listener, mainly Harry.

"Young Master. Madam Cassandra has asked for you." he said with a deep bow. Unlike his family elf, Kreacher was neither wearing the butler uniform nor was he well groomed. He just wore a clean white sack. A rather embarrassment for the Black House. He would need to see to it.

Harry said nothing but just nodded. He offered his hand to the Elf to take. The elf reverently took his hand and apparated.

The same nauseous, squeezing feeling took over Harry. It seems wizard travelling was not for him.

He looked around. They stood at the entrance of a large mansion. The mansion was definitely not the 'Grimmauld Mansion' which he had caught from Pettigrew's memory and heard from his grandparents. For one, it was not in the middle of a city. Two, it was far too nicer looking than the one he had picked up from memories.

He removed his hands from the elf's grasp and firmly knocked on the door. The door was a heavy wooden double door. A locker with raven and decorations sat on the middle of it. He couldn't make out the wood though. It was dark and heavily lacquered. But despite all that, it gave a rather firm feeling. The door was probably layered with numerous wards and runes.

A moment later the door open. As expected, no one was there to greet him. It was hard to figure out Aunt Cassandra's actions. Blacks were supposed to maintain a certain level of decorum. He was the heir apparent and no had come to greet him. Either Aunt Cassandra didn't care about the etiquettes or it was a show of power to remind him that he was the student and the guest. She was the teacher and the host. Still, too poor mannered.

Ignoring the sleight, he walked inside. He carefully looked around. Although the mansion was similar to a Victorian Era Mansion, the insides were completely different. Rich upholstery in warm brown colors with golden finishes surrounded him. The floor was made of some type of warm dark brown wood. The walls were covered with numerous portraits of Black Family Members. Between the portraits at regular intervals were numerous artifact's, of both muggle and wizarding nature. A scimitar which once belonged to an Assyrian Wizard, a Staff owned by Egyptian High Priest, Buddhist beads from Buddhist monks and so on. Each one carefully labelled. It looked more like a museum than a house. On the ceiling hung a large skeleton which he barely identified as a basilisk. Candle and Crystal Chandelier hung from the top giving the whole walkway a rather warm feeling.

"The reason people see the walkway before the house is to remind them where they are." a voice interrupted his musings. He didn't look back. He knew the voice. It belonged to his Aunt.

"The portrait remind both the guest and the host of our history. To the Blacks, it shows our ancestry. 1000 Years of magical history. We can't tarnish the history which was earned by our ancestors blood and sweat. " she solemnly reminded.

"The castle was not bought or created by you. It's not ours. It belongs to the Blacks." she continued further.

"To the guest it shows them that the people they are meeting belong to the top aristocracy of Magic World. A millennium of pure blood history. Our ancestors walked among Pharaoh's of the old carrying the name of Black. A constant reminder that we are to be treated with respect. Respect, fear and awe earned over millenniums."

"You also belong to the Black Family. On your shoulders rests ancient history and responsibilities handed down over generations. Don't destroy our heritage like your father destroyed the Potter's" she ended with a caustic remark. Despite that, he heard no animosity. But genuine concern.

"I won't. I will carry both Black and Potter to heights never seen before." he promised.

In return he just heard a scoff. " We will see. Now rest for tommorow will be the start of your training. The elf will call you for dinner."