Chapter 16 - Christmas at the Burrow

                                        

                                              
            
                              
Christmas at the Burrow
                              
      "Harry!" yelled Mrs. Weasley.
                              
      All four of them came down into the kitchen. 
                              
      Mrs. Weasley shook her head at the sight of them and said, "I call one of you down and the rest of you follow.... Well, do you want them to be here or not?"
                              
      "Yeah, it's alright, I think I have enough secrets to keep track of," Harry said, lamely.
                              
      "Fine, I went to the bank to get some money the other day and..." she started.
                              
      Harry had forgotten all about the money Sirius had left him and the Weasleys. 
                              
      "...and it seemed to be... well... full. It took me almost an hour just to find out what happened," she said, slightly irritated.
                              
      Everyone was staring at Harry, who was staring resolvedly at the frost-covered windows.  
                              
      "The paper says you signed the money over," she finished, drawing in a long breath.
                              
      "Is that all it said?" he asked, slightly surprised, ignoring Ron and Ginny's shocked faces.
                              
      "Well, no, it was originally from... Sirius's vault, but Harry, we can't take it. It isn't right. I'm going to tell them to put it back into your vault," she declared firmly, but Harry stood up immediately.
                              
      "You can't. I told them not to allow anyone to put money into my vault. Not without my permission, anyway, and the goblins won't ignore my request," he said determinately, looking right at her.
                              
      Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, as did Ron, whose mouth was open.
                              
      "Harry, we can't keep it, it's yours. I'm not like Fred and George. I just won't..." Mrs. Weasley started.
                              
      "It isn't mine! It was Sirius's!" Harry said, irritably.
                              
      "Yes, Harry, dear, but he wanted you to have it. He designated you as his heir," she said, softly.
                              
      "Really? I'll be right back," he said, suddenly.
                              
      He turned on his heel and marched from the room, went upstairs, looked through his trunk and found the water-stained parchment of Sirius's will. He burst into the kitchen at full speed, which made Ron, Hermione and Ginny jump. He opened the will and slammed it down on the table.  
                              
      "Look!" he said angrily. 
                              
      She picked it up and read it silently. He waited a second for her to finish, but cut in before she could say anything.
                              
      "Sirius wanted it split 50/50. Half for me. Half for you. It's right there in his will!" Harry said, perhaps more loudly than he meant to. Mrs. Weasley read it carefully again, and looked at him.
                              
      "That doesn't mean..." she started.
                              
      "Look, I didn't give it to you. He did! I decided to honor my godfather's wishes, and I think that you should respect his decision, too," he said, finishing softly.
                              
      "Harry..." Mrs. Weasley tried to speak over him again, but he did not let her.
                              
      "Mrs. Weasley!" Harry half-shouted. "I do not need that money! I don't even want that money! I have enough money, which I got when my parents died! You think I like the fact that the reason I have money is because my parents and Sirius died and left me it for me! You guys are like family to me! You have feed me, cared for me, and took me in. If I could, I would have stayed here every summer. You try to protect me from danger and make sure I stay out of trouble. You are the closest thing I have ever had to a mother. The least I could do is sign a paper that executes my godfather's last wishes... please... just take it..." he pleaded, while maintaining his composure and staring directly into her eyes, which were filled with tears.