Yours, Luna Lovegood

Friends

Wulburga Black would have hated the silent calm left in the wake of her permanent removal, yet this was now, happily, a matter of mere speculation.

Sirius closed his eyes and smiled, his shoulders immediately relaxing, as the peace settled in his home. For a moment they all stood in the hallway with parted lips, hesitating even to breathe, savoring the absence, gleefully staring with wide eyes at the space where the portrait was.

"Hermione." Sirius turned after a long moment, facing her with hands clasped together. "I'm rather inclined to give you an embarrassingly large share of the Black fortune."

She smiled at this, blushing a touch and waving the implications away. "For all the torture that my constant citation of Hogwarts: A History has been to Harry, Ron, and really anyone that happened to be relaxing in the Gryffindor common room for the last four years, I suppose I owe it to the world to make some good come of it."

Harry looked around, taking in the scene with new eyes. "You know, Sirius, it really feels like a different home."

Sirius nodded, considering. "I've suspected for some time that the portrait's enchantments extended far beyond permanent attachment." He turned to the others. "You see, most witches and wizards turn to the darkness as a matter of utility. There are tools and methods available by means of dark magic that can be quite appealing in a pinch. My mother, however, embraced darkness as an expression of devotion. She longed for it, I'm afraid, to her beating heart. And she embraced every aspect."

He paused, breathing deeply. "After turning fugitive, it soon became clear that my home was the safest available shelter. Within hours of settling here I found myself feeling despair — not in the normal sense, associated with fears or anxieties related to Harry, or to Lupin, or to Voldy's return." His gaze shifted to the empty wall. "No, I began to feel despair at my very core. I began to forget what hope felt like, not exactly as if I was standing in the presence of a Dementor, but analogous to it. That's when I began attempting to remove that horrid portrait. My mother was capable of senseless cruelty, and dark magic has a way of radiating from her creations."

At this, he looked into the distance, and for a moment was lost in thought. Suddenly, he shook himself. "That's all gone now, it seems. If you're feeling that something has changed, it's likely that her portrait was an anchor of the darkness." He paused for a moment, smiling broadly. "I suspect the remaining aspects of our ever delayed remodel will fall into place soon enough."

"Don't suppose you're ready for another attempt at expansion charms, Sirius?" George spoke, leaning against the now empty wall.

Fred continued. "Not a bad idea, brother. We're thinking a potions lab. Terribly useful. A perfect replacement for that dusty old broom closet on the second floor."

"You won't miss it, Sirius. Who needs brooms anyhow?" George threw in.

"And who couldn't use a potions lab? We've learned from our past mistakes, don't you worry." Fred's plea was dressed in feigned confidence, and more than a little desperation.

Sirius shook his head with a knowing expression. "No, boys." He crossed his arms. "No. Obliviating the neighbors foolishly forced us into a precarious position. And you nearly tanked the wards my family has labored to maintain for generations."

"But—" George yelped.

"No." Sirius was immovable. "Not here. Not in this house."

They deflated visibly, a sight nearly as pathetic as the desperate plea it followed.

Harry laughed. "I've got a few cauldrons back at my place, guys. I'll need one of them, but you're welcome to the other."

Their eyes shot wide open, lit with excitement. To his left, for only a moment, Harry noticed Hermione biting her lip and fighting a smile.