Chapter - 21 : Unpacking and Uncertainties

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It was strange for Harry to amble through the high-ceilinged and dust-covered rooms of this world's Grimmauld Place. The floor plan seemed to be much the same as he remembered, although Harry had never known his way around all of the rambling house. It was very much a wizarding home, with magic having been used to enlarge space and distort distances between rooms, making it difficult to know exactly where everything was. Accurately judging the size of the place was close to impossible.

Sirius had disappeared off somewhere soon after the discussion with Mrs Black, pausing only to summon Kreacher and order him to prepare bedrooms for himself and Harry. The elf had muttered a few derogatory comments under his breath but had otherwise acted saner than Harry had expected. He also seemed to have taken better care of the house over the years it had stood empty. Dust sheets had been draped over most of the furniture and there were no infestations of doxies in the curtains or any other creatures hidden in the various nooks and crannies. Harry wondered at the change but couldn't really think of a reason for it. After coming up with a few improbable theories he decided to forget about it for the time being. He instead ambled downstairs to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea before they had to head off to their meeting at Gringotts.

The windowless basement room was just as dark as Harry remembered it, the few candles on the wall creating only just enough light to see by. The contents of the kitchen drawers weren't at all familiar, however, since in this world Mrs Weasley hadn't commandeered the place and organised everything to her liking. It took a lot of rummaging before Harry managed to locate a rusty kettle and a tin of ancient looking tea leaves. He brewed enough for two people in case Sirius decided to join him, and then settled himself down at the large wooden table which took up one side of the room.

Harry wondered what Sirius was doing, but didn't feel comfortable at the idea of searching him out. He'd often dreamed of living with his godfather, but apart from the few weeks in the summer before his fifth year and one short Christmas holiday, that dream had never come true. Now Harry was going to be spending years sharing a house with a man who was Sirius but not his Sirius, and he felt a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing. The situation was made even stranger by the fact that Harry was an adult in the body of a ten-year-old; it was inevitable that any interaction between them would be rather awkward. Harry was actually surprised by how well he and Sirius were getting along so far, but knew living together would be very different from short hospital visits.

"Oh, there you are," Sirius said, appearing at the top of the stairs and interrupting Harry's thoughts. He looked tired and grim-faced, clearly far from back to full health.

"You all right?" Harry asked, reaching out and pouring him a cup of tea.

"I'm fine," Sirius said dismissively, making his way to the table and sipping the steaming hot liquid. "Thanks," he said appreciatively.

"No problem," Harry replied.

There was an awkward pause, neither of them entirely sure what to do next.

"Have you unpacked yet?" Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, I wasn't sure which room's mine."

"I think Kreacher's prepared my old bedroom and another on the floor below for you," Sirius said. "The second floor is traditionally for guests and distant relations. Kreacher can probably sense you're not really a Black and so didn't put you in any of the family rooms. I hope we can change things round later once we've done the adoption ritual - I should really be on the top floor in the master bedroom, but Kreacher seems to have turned the whole place into a shrine to my dear old mum."

"Does it matter that Kreacher knows?" Harry bit his lip and pushed his empty teacup away as the new worry entered his head. "I mean, we didn't even tell Mrs Black the truth and she's a portrait."

Sirius sighed and gave a shrug. "He'll keep any secret he's ordered to. As for my mum, there's no way she could tell anyone either, but I think it'll be easier all round if we let her think you're my son and a pureblood."

"You're probably right," Harry agreed, thinking back to his memories of the portrait screaming about mudbloods and blood-traitors. He stood up and brought his cup to the kitchen sink. "I think I'll go change into clean robes before we head off to Gringotts. I'll leave the unpacking till I move into my proper room."

"Right." Sirius nodded and put down his own cup. "I'll go get ready too, then. Kreacher!"

The wizened old elf appeared with a pop. "Yes, master?"

"Orion and I are going out for a bit. Have dinner ready for when we get home," Sirius sternly instructed him.

"Yes, master," Kreacher said and shuffled over to the kitchen cabinets, pointedly paying the two wizards no more attention.

Harry and Sirius both made their way up the stone basement steps and then the main staircase, Harry stopping once he reached the second floor. Rather than call Kreacher to ask him which room he'd prepared on Sirius' orders, Harry just opened doors at random until he a found one that looked a little less dusty than the rest. Not trusting the elf's cleaning skills, Harry aimed scourgify spells at every surface before pulling his few belongings out of his pocket and unshrinking them. He owned depressingly little, Harry realised as he looked down at the small pile of clothes and newspaper clippings. All of his most precious possessions – his photo album, his invisibility cloak, his firebolt – had been left behind in his old world. Harry tried to tell himself it was a good thing really, since it meant fewer things linking him to the Boy-Who-Lived. It wasn't much of a silver lining, but Harry was determined to make the best of things. If he let himself miss everything he'd left behind, he'd never stop.

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