Chapter 222 – Black's Wealth
Who is the richest person in the wizarding world now?
Centuries ago, the answer would have been simple: the Malfoys.
In those days, they straddled both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. But with the passage of the International Statute of Secrecy, the Malfoy family gradually lost their vast Muggle holdings. Though they adapted by investing in wizarding industries and by pursuing political power, their defeat after Voldemort's fall more than ten years ago left them weakened. They remained wealthy, yes—but no longer the richest.
The Smith family also had considerable wealth, but their fortune was hidden and their family seldom made themselves known. Even in Alexander Smith's generation, though he had rebuilt Smith Castle to its former grandeur, the family could not claim the title of richest.
And so, to the surprise of many, the true wealthiest family was revealed: the Blacks.
The Black family had never been renowned for business sense. By all logic, they should not have been wealthy. And yet, they were.
The secret lay in real estate. Not in Muggle property, but in vast swaths of wizarding land they had owned for centuries—prime locations secured through ancient contracts. These contracts dictated that the land itself could not be sold, but that rents, even if modest, would flow automatically into the Black family vault at Gringotts.
Over generations, this trickle became a flood. The funds belonged solely to the family head, inaccessible to other branches without express permission. And because the money was almost never touched, it grew to astronomical amounts.
Now, with no other surviving heirs officially recognized as head of the family, all that fortune had fallen to Sirius Black.
Not even imprisonment in Azkaban could diminish it. Gringotts recognized no Ministry authority in such matters. To goblins, gold was sacred. So long as it remained within their vaults, they would never steal it, never surrender it, and would even fight to prevent others from taking it.
What made Sirius unique in this altered timeline was that he had also inherited certain industries that could not be seized by the Ministry. Combined, this gave him the resources to do what few others could dream of: purchase the Daily Prophet outright.
It was this wealth that silenced Rita Skeeter, her scandalous photos surrendered in exchange for promotion and salary. It was this same wealth that led Sirius to pause his summer cleaning of Grimmauld Place—preparing for Harry's stay—and to summon both the Weasleys and the Malfoys to meet him at King's Cross Station.
And so, on the day of departure, the bizarre scene unfolded: Arthur and Molly Weasley standing stiffly beside Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, all of them wearing ill-fitting Muggle clothing, their faces grim.
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Meanwhile, the train screeched to a halt at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Harry, Ron, and Draco squeezed their way through the crowd. At the ticket gate, a wizened old guard allowed only two or three students through at a time, so they wouldn't all tumble from the wall at once and draw Muggle eyes.
"You must come to our house this summer," Ron said eagerly. "Both of you—I'll send an owl to invite you."
"Thanks," Harry replied. "I'm going to Sirius's house first, then I'll come to yours with him."
"I'd love to see your dad's workshop," Draco added gloomily, "but my father's place—"
"Isn't your mother there?" Ron cut in, staring at him as if he'd gone mad.
"I almost forgot," Draco muttered. "Hopefully she'll welcome me… though I doubt your brothers will."
They pushed toward the exit, voices calling after them.
"Bye, Harry!"
"Goodbye, Potter!"
"Phoenix Guard!"
"You're still famous," Ron said with a grin, looking around proudly.
Harry frowned. "What are the Phoenix Guards?"
"Don't ask," Draco muttered. "It must be another one of Ron's stories."
Ron reddened but said nothing.
As they stepped into the Muggle station, Ron suddenly stopped short. "Where's Ginny?" he asked, frowning. She adored Harry—surely she would have begged their parents to bring her. Why wasn't she here? A prickle of unease settled in his stomach.
"Father? Mother?" Draco's eyes widened. There stood Lucius and Narcissa, awkwardly dressed like Muggles. What could force them into such a state? Was it his friendship with Harry and Ron? Was it their failed allegiance to Voldemort?
Harry too froze. For there, striding toward them, was Sirius Black. He did not greet Arthur and Molly, nor his cousin Narcissa. Instead, he had Uncle Vernon in a crushing embrace—arm hooked tightly around the man's thick neck.
Uncle Vernon's face was still purple, his mustache bristling—but his eyes no longer glared at Harry. Instead, they shone with the same cringing, flattering look he reserved for his company's biggest clients.
Even stranger, Aunt Petunia was absent. How could she possibly miss Dudley's return after nearly a year away?
Harry, Ron, and Draco exchanged bewildered glances. Something about all these changes felt linked by a single cause.
Their suspicions were confirmed as Arthur Weasley stepped forward, breaking the silence. Adjusting his glasses nervously, he extended a hand toward Uncle Vernon.
"Ah—you must be Harry's uncle!"
Molly, short and round, kept glancing at the barrier, waiting for Fred, George, and Percy to appear. Lucius Malfoy lifted his chin, clearly wanting to imitate Arthur's civility, but no words came. He gave only a cold snort, eyes flicking toward Draco.
"Yes, I am," Vernon said stiffly. "Well—we're still waiting for Dudley."
Then, in a voice Harry had never heard from him before, Uncle Vernon added:
"Harry, come here with your friends. This is your godfather."
The three boys turned to Sirius, then back to Vernon, and finally at each other.
"We must be crazy," they muttered in unison.
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