Chapter 78: The Ancestral Home
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 78: The Ancestral Home
Harry stood in the garden, his eyes fixed on the magnificent castle before him.
The pale grey stone seemed to glow in the afternoon light, and the flags bearing the Potter crest fluttered gently in the breeze. He could hardly believe it was real.
"Master Harry?" Dibble's voice was soft, hesitant. "Shall Dibble show you around?"
Harry tore his gaze away from the castle and looked down at the old house-elf. Dibble's large eyes were glistening with happiness, his wrinkled face split by a wide, proud smile.
"Yes, Dibble," Harry said. His voice could barely hide his strong emotions. "Please. Show me everything. I want to see it all."
Dibble nodded and gestured towards the massive oak door. "Follow Dibble, Master Harry. There is much to show you."
The great oak doors swung open by themselves, revealing a grand entrance hall that took Harry's breath away.
The ceiling soared high above, supported by towering pillars carved with scenes of magical creatures and fantastical landscapes.
A massive chandelier made of enchanted crystal hung from the centre, casting a warm, golden light across the space. The floor was polished marble, inlaid with the Potter crest...a stag draped in a cloak, surrounded by stars.
Portraits lined the walls, their occupants watching Harry with curious eyes. Some smiled. Others nodded approvingly. A few whispered to each other, their voices barely audible.
"These are your ancestors, Master Harry," Dibble said, gesturing to the portraits. "Some of the most prestigious members of the Potter family are being represented here. They have all been waiting for your arrival."
Harry walked slowly, his eyes moving from one portrait to the next. He saw stern-faced wizards and kind-eyed witches, warriors and scholars, healers and leaders. They all shared the same distinctive features...the dark hair, the sharp jaw, and the determined eyes.
"They look like me," Harry murmured.
"Indeed, Master Harry. You are the image of your grandfather, Fleamont Potter. He was a great man indeed." Dibble's voice trembled slightly. "He would have loved you very much if he had the chance."
Harry's heart ached. "Dumbledore killed him, didn't he? He told me that much while we were in the chamber."
Dibble nodded slowly, his large eyes filling with tears. "Yes, Master Harry, that is true. The evil Headmaster wanted the Potter Grimoire more than anything in the world. He came looking for Master Fleamont and demanded that he hand it over. Your grandfather refused, of course. They fought, and Dumbledore... he killed him. And then, soon after, he took everything with the help of Master James. The contents of the vault, the properties, the family legacy. But he could not take the grimoire, because it had already bonded with you. You were born on the same day as your grandfather died."
"How come he didn't take this castle?" Harry had been curious about it for a while. He didn't think Dumbledore would pass on the chance to get his hands on his ancestral home.
Dibble looked at him with a prideful smile. "He couldn't even find it. For you see... your grandfather was a very clever wizard. He knew about his son's betrayal and the Headmaster's plan, so he removed him from the ward protections and even from the family tapestry. So when Master James inherited all the properties of the Potter Family... the castle was not included. It was the last act of Master Fleamont... to deny this place to his son, and thus...to Albus Dumbledore."
Harry felt a surge of fury. "He died protecting his legacy..."
"He did, Master Harry. He gave his life so that you could have a chance."
Harry's voice was barely a whisper. "What about my grandmother? Did Dumbledore..."
Dibble shook his head quickly. "No, Master Harry. Your grandmother, Euphemia Potter, passed away before the war began. She died of a magical illness when James was in his second year at Hogwarts. It was a great loss for the family. Master Fleamont never fully recovered from it."
Harry felt a fresh wave of grief. Another family member he had never known. Another loss he had never had the chance to mourn.
"What was she like?" he asked.
Dibble smiled softly. "She was kind and gentle, Master Harry, like most members of the House of Black. She had a warm laugh and a loving heart. She used to read to young James every night, even after he started at Hogwarts. She was the heart of this castle."
Harry nodded slowly, committing the words to memory. "Thank you, Dibble. I wish I could have known her."
"Perhaps..." Dibble's voice was hesitant. "Perhaps Master Harry would have the chance to meet them."
Harry blinked. "Meet them? But they're..."
Dibble smiled knowingly. "We can leave that for later. Follow Dibble, Master Harry."
Dibble led Harry through the castle, room by room.
They began their tour at the library. It was incredibly vast, its shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, filled with thousands of books on every subject imaginable. There were ancient tomes bound in dragonhide, scrolls written in languages Harry had never seen, and books that seemed to whisper as he passed.
"This is where the family's knowledge is kept," Dibble said. "The Potter Grimoire was once kept here, before your grandfather hid it away. But there is much more here...histories, spells, secrets that have been passed down for generations."
Harry ran his fingers along the spines of the books, feeling the weight of centuries of knowledge. "I could spend years in here and never read everything."
"That is the hope, Master Harry. This is your legacy now. You can decide what to do with it."
They moved on to the training rooms. The first was a large, circular chamber with enchanted dummies that moved and attacked on their own. The walls were covered in protective enchantments, and a rack of practice wands stood against one wall.
"Your ancestors were warriors, as well as wizards and witches, Master Harry," Dibble said. "They believed that a Potter must always be ready to defend their family and their home. This room has been used for centuries to train the heirs of the house."
Harry looked around the room. He would need to train. He would need to become strong enough to face Dumbledore.
"Show me more," he said.
The gardens were a wonder in themselves. Enchanted flowers that glowed with their own light, fountains that sang when he approached, and trees that bore fruit in every colour of the rainbow.
A large lake stretched out at the edge of the grounds, its surface mirror-smooth.
"The castle is protected by powerful ancient wards created by The Founder," Dibble explained. "Your grandfather sealed the grounds before his death. No one who is not a true Potter can enter these lands without permission. You will be safe here."
Harry nodded. "It does feel very peaceful."
"Yes, Master Harry. This is your home. Your sanctuary." The house-elf said.
They continued the tour for another hour. Harry saw the kitchens. The dining hall, with its long oak table and enchanted ceiling that showed the night sky, similar to Hogwarts'. The bedrooms, each one more comfortable and inviting than the last.
And finally, Dibble led him to a room at the end of a long corridor. The door was made of dark oak, carved with the Potter crest.
Harry pushed open the door.
The study was warm and inviting, with a large fireplace crackling at one end. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a massive oak desk sat at the centre, covered in papers and quills.
Harry approached the desk slowly, his eyes scanning the items scattered across its surface. There were old letters, faded photographs, and a leather-bound journal that looked like it had been written in often.
"This was your grandfather's study," Dibble said softly. "He spent many hours here. He loved this room."
Harry picked up a framed photograph from the desk. It showed a young couple...a dark-haired man with a kind smile and a woman with soft, grey-streaked hair. They were standing in the garden, their arms around each other, laughing.
"Your grandparents," Dibble said. "Fleamont and Euphemia. They were very happy together."
Harry smiled, tracing the edge of the frame with his finger. "They look happy."
"They were, Master Harry. They loved each other very much."
Harry set down the photograph and picked up the leather-bound journal. He opened it carefully, the pages yellowed with age. The handwriting was elegant and precise.
"The truth must be recorded. One day, someone will need to know."
Harry's heart raced. "What is this?"
Dibble's eyes glistened. "That is your grandfather's personal journal, Master Harry. He wrote in it for many years. He recorded everything there. About the war, Dumbledore's rise to power, the betrayal of his son. He wanted the truth to survive."
Harry flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words. He read about the war, about Dumbledore's manipulations, about the deaths of innocent people. He read about his father's betrayal and his grandfather's heartbreak.
But he was already familiar with most of what was written in here because he had already read it in another book, back when he was in his first year of Hogwarts.
Harry looked at the journal, then at Dibble. "The book I found in the Hogwarts library...the history book that ended with a chapter written by an unknown hand. That was you, wasn't it? You finished my grandfather's work."
Dibble nodded, his large eyes filling with tears. "Yes, Master Harry. When your grandfather was killed, he had already written most of the book. He wanted the truth to be known. He wanted you to know what Dumbledore had done. Dibble... Dibble finished it for him. Dibble hid it in the library, hoping you would find it. Hoping you would understand."
Harry felt a surge of gratitude. "You've been guiding me this whole time. The notes, the cloak, the key...it was all you."
Dibble smiled. "Dibble had to help Master Harry. Dibble made a promise to Master Fleamont to protect you. And Dibble always keeps his promises."
Harry knelt and placed a hand on the house-elf's small shoulder. "Thank you, Dibble. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."
Dibble's tears flowed freely now. "Dibble is just happy to see Master Harry safe. Happy to see him home."
"And now," Dibble said, wiping his eyes, "there is one more thing, Master Harry. Something your grandfather wanted you to see."
He led Harry to a hidden door at the back of the study, concealed behind a tapestry. The door swung open, revealing a small, circular room lit by enchanted candles.
At the far end of the room, against the curved wall, hung two large portraits. They were grander than the others, with ornate frames, rich colours, and painted with obvious care and affection.
In the first portrait stood a tall, dignified wizard with silver hair and kind, twinkling amber eyes. He wore deep green robes and held a walking stick, and his smile was warm and welcoming.
In the second portrait sat a woman with soft, grey-streaked hair and gentle, loving eyes. She wore a simple blue dress, and her hands were folded in her lap, her expression filled with warmth and pride.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. He knew, somehow, who they were.
"Grandfather?" he whispered. "Grandmother?"
The figures in the portraits stirred. The wizard stepped forward, his smile widening. The woman rose from her chair, her kind eyes locked onto him.
"Harry," the wizard said, his voice deep and rich. "You've finally come home."
Harry almost stumbled forward, his hand reaching out to touch the frame. "They have enchanted portraits...so that's why you said that before."
The house-elf nodded proudly. "They both became active soon after Master Fleamont's death. They have all of their memories and knowledge."
Harry nodded. He knew that a living painting was not the actual person, but more like a copy of who that person had once been.
But still...he was happy to see them. This was the closest thing that he was going to get to meeting his real grandparents.
The painting of Fleamont looked at Harry with an intense look. "So...now that you are here, we have much to talk about. Dont we?"
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