Harry didn't know if he wanted help. There was Headmaster Flamel's advice in his mind. But he wasn't rebuilding now or warding. He'd need to spend next summer, if not longer, learning about that. But he also wanted to have an adventure, a good one.
As for Sirius, he looked as healthy as a crinkly, bleached leaf on an autumn tree. Which was not a solid recommendation.
"Well, the falling stones broke through the floor of the upper basement. I'm almost done with the lower basement. There was some stone blocking what looked like another stairway leading down..."
Sirius nodded. "Dungeons."
"Godric's Hall had dungeons?" Harry asked.
"It was first built on this site seven hundred years ago. Of course it had dungeons."
Harry had no idea.
This was something Sirius could help with. Advice, memories of the place, that sort of thing.
By that evening, Harry stood in those dungeons. He still had much to move, but Sirius had pointed him to the area where he needed to concentrate.
Sirius floated down to the dungeon level with Harry's assistance.
Sirius grinned and pointed at one cell with a rotted door. "James locked me in that cell for half a day for getting him in trouble with his mother. I sang...um, well certain songs..."
"Dirty songs?" Harry supplied.
"Perhaps."
"Did you lock him in a cell?"
"Repeat a good prank? Not if I can help it. I did some very clever spellwork to bury him at the bottom of the manure pile. There used to be stables near the trees."
Burying someone in manure... Sirius really had taken pranks as his life's work.
"The building's not up anymore, but I can see where it was...," Harry said.
Sirius smiled, pleased with memories of old friends and rough silliness.
"What's that at the end?" Sirius asked, pointing down the hallway.
"A door?" A very solid looking door.
"It was never there before. Trust me. I know these cells..."
Sirius moved toward the door that was different from these others. It looked rather like the door of a vault. Not quite a bank vault, from when Harry had caught a glimpse on the telly in some film, and not quite a Gringotts vault door, either.
"This wasn't here... Unless it was hidden," Sirius said. "Illusion charms that failed?"
"Should we open it?"
"You're the last Potter. I'd say it was your decision."
"Let's dry the floor here well. There are drains so it's not so bad, but if there is a vault behind this door..."
Yes, it was a stall. Yes, Harry should want to see what was behind the door. But what if it wasn't good? What if it didn't match what he thought about his family? Instead of a vault, it could be a torture chamber or something worse...
By the time the floor was dry, Sirius was in rough shape. Harry got him out of there and promised they'd return in the morning, after a good dinner and a significant breakfast. Sirius, of course, would have one of the unused bedrooms in the tent for the night. He got his pick of the three remaining rooms.
The sun was bright when Harry and Sirius returned the next morning. The dungeon floor was still dry. There was no more putting this off.
"Well, open it," Sirius said.
Harry stared at the thing. "How? I have a Gringotts key, but I don't think that's any use here."
"Magic to open it? Or blood? I don't know, Harry."
Harry put his hands on the dark metal door. Nothing happened, other than his hands became cold.
He used his wand to cast a Lumos to see if the door wanted a sample of his magic. Then he got out a knife and sliced the back of his thumb. He rubbed the blood on the door then healed the shallow wound.
The door did nothing.
"I don't know," Sirius said.
Harry studied the door. He was looking for a keyhole (but where would the key have gotten to?) or something else that served as a lock.
Finally he set his hand on one of the handles that protruded from the door. Harry pushed. Nothing. Then he tugged on the handle. It pulled hard, but it opened.
"It wasn't locked at all?" Sirius asked, confused.
"Maybe it was sealed only with magic? If the illusion hiding it failed, maybe the locking spell went with it? Maybe the heat of the fire all those years ago?"
Whatever the cause, the failure in security here was troubling. Though it was convenient now that Harry came to look.
He took a few slow steps before he got inside. It was very dark. A Lumos did little.
"Transfigure some torches?" Sirius asked.
Sirius waited while Harry went up and collected some fallen branches. Harry didn't make anything stunning with his transfiguration. But it was enough.
They wrestled with the vault door to widen it some more. They were both stalling now.
Then Harry went in first. Sirius was close behind.
The bounty inside stunned Harry once he could see it.
"The house's portraits are here. How?" Sirius asked. He ran his fingers over the undamaged frames.
"The furniture, the pieces Mrs. Potter loved best, they're intact. The drapes are over those barrels of coin... The house elves must have risked their own lives saving all of this."
"I'd rather have the elves than some old cloth," Harry said. "But the portraits..."
"Yes," Sirius said.
"Do you know how to bring them awake again?"
"Well, I know how some of them worked in the Black family. The Potter ones may be the same – or they might be different. We can try."
"Yes," Harry said.
Harry and Sirius spent that day and part of the next down there. Sirius said much of what had been in Godric's Hall was lost, but what had been saved was very impressive. There were cases of books under preservation. The Potter silver service was there as was some of the china. Three beds had been saved, too.