Faelan sat at the end of the front row of chairs beside Harry, having arrived with the man, who had pulled him forward by his sleeve when he'd attempted to take the chair in the very back corner. He really hadn't wanted to be here. He had been both surprised and not to receive the formal notice of invitation, which Harry said meant that Faelan was mentioned by name in the will. Of course, this made Faelan fidget with thoughts of how much he didn't belong in this circle of mourning, and how shamefully comforting it was to be.
Harry's slightly smug smile at the opening comments of the will were not lost on Faelan, but then he barely even processed the actual words that told him he was to receive half of Sirius' bank vault. He was too hung up on the sound of Sirius' voice, full of life and vitality as it always was, making it seem even more impossible that it was silenced forever.
When the words did sink in, he had to bite his cheek against the impulse to protest, not that he really would have known what to say. He was rather speechless.