Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Watchtower
A/N: If you're somehow finding this before having read my previous story, please stop and read that one first.
Please drop a review if you'd like. Thank you to the kind reviews I've received so far. It really makes a huge difference.
Harry stepped through the doorway to his grandfather's workshop. He supposed it was now his, actually. He was the last Potter, after all, and he'd earned the runestone all on his own.
After months of searching for the room, he'd finally found it and gained access. It hadn't been easy, and he'd had to bend the rules to get to where he was, but that's just who he was. A rule bender.
Once he'd stepped through, the room lit up automatically, as if welcoming him home after a long time away, and not as if this was the first time he'd been here. Items were spread out across benches and worktables, waiting for the work to continue. The surfaces were still clean, without a hint of dust, though he didn't know how that was possible. His home, when he'd discovered it, had been filthy and had taken him and Mrs Figg, his guardian, several weeks to clean up.
He looked around the workshop again and didn't know where to start. The bookshelves were enticing, of course. He loved to read. He especially loved to read his family's old journals. In his experience, they were full of personality and useful information. He'd found plenty of interesting bits of information in his father's and grandparents' old journals after he'd moved into his ancestral home.
The information inside had helped him free Sirius Black, his godfather, from life in prison. They'd helped him break into the Shrieking Shack, where he'd met the mysterious and enchanting Guild Leader, and how he'd earned his right to join the secret organization that pulled the strings of magical society from the shadows.
The journals had helped him to begin to discover and understand his family magic, and they'd helped set him on his path as a valiant servant of Magic herself.
Besides the books, he saw several interesting gadgets in display cases and on work surfaces that he wanted to investigate. But first, what was really catching his eye was a giant map that spread out across the wall. After inspecting it more closely, it was obvious to him that it showed Potter Manor, its grounds, and the surrounding forest. What excited him about it was two things. The first was that there were little labels of people, his friends, and the werewolves, moving around the canvas. He assumed it was showing their location.
He could see his magically adopted sister, Luna's tag, in the library with Jet, her bonded Naga companion. Nerella, his own bonded Naga, was with Astrid, his werewolf friend, in the kitchen. Jet and Nerella were Naga, half-snake, half-human magical creatures that had grown up in secret within the forest surrounding their home.
Astrid was a werewolf whom he'd given asylum to after rescuing her and some others from the clutches of the notorious werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. He was dead now, thanks to his father's childhood friend, and also werewolf, Remus Lupin.
Harry could see that said man was in his quarters with his girlfriend, Silvie, and her daughter, Tabatha. Remus had been with them for years, and they'd all moved into Potter Manor to help Harry and Mrs Figg take care of the house while Harry was away at school. A lot of Greyback's old crew were now sworn to Remus, and they'd moved in as well.
He saw Mrs Figg's tag, along with Hermes, her Bekaneko companion. Bekaneko were a magical species of cat that could speak telepathically and were incredibly intelligent. Hermes' son, Loki, had been one of Harry's first friends, but was now Luna's familiar. Mrs Figg had a complicated history with Harry. He'd grown up thinking she was just the crazy cat lady who lived down the street. That turned out to be false when he discovered that she was, in fact, a close friend of his mother as well as part of the secretive guild he'd now joined. She'd been taking care of him, teaching him, and guiding him ever since.
The second thing that Harry found interesting about the map was that in the forest, to the north, was the Naga village, along with numerous tags. To the East, he found his own name, in the middle of the forest next to a label that said The Watchtower.
Last he'd checked, he'd been in the cellar next to the kitchen. He looked around the room, noting a French door that led outside onto a balcony. He walked to it and opened both doors wide open. He found himself in the middle of a forest, high above the ground, but still beneath the tree line.
He took in the magnificent sight. All around him was life. Animals, both mundane and magical, could be seen wandering around, building nests and burrows, searching for food, and playing together or exploring.
He'd spent a fair amount of time exploring the forest, but he hadn't found this. That was fair, he supposed, since the forest was massive. He reckoned it spread for kilometers in all directions.
It was nice to know that he had a little space away from everyone to get away when he needed to, and possibly a secret way back into the house.
Aside from the giant map and the work stations he'd noticed as he had entered, there was also a large anvil, forge, and a whole lot of tools in one of the corners. Another station nearby seemed to have several tools that he assumed had to do with leather-work, as the large amounts of leather material were a good indicator. He was excited to learn how to use them.
One of the display cases caught his eye. A mask that resembled a charcoal-colored skull was displayed within it. One of the eye holes had a device inside it that looked like several camera lenses clustered together. The mouth, he noticed, had a mesh fabric so that whoever wore it, he assumed, could breathe and speak freely.
There was an open book next to the display case that described how it worked, but he left it alone for now, so he could keep exploring.
As he walked about the room, he felt a strange tingle in his hand that seemed to be pulling him in a certain direction. He followed the prompting, and his breath caught when he realized what was in front of him.
On a lectern sat a large tome embossed with his family's crest. He reverently traced the stag and griffin insignias on the cover and felt the familiar feeling of his family's magic swirl around him. This had to be the Potter Family grimoire.
A grimoire, he'd learned from Mrs Figg, was supposed to hold all the secrets of a family's unique magic. Some families could talk to snakes, others could become metamorphmagi or animagi, see the future, or learn to read minds. His family could sense magic and discern how things worked. He could do more, as well, but he didn't quite understand all of it. He'd been hoping to find the grimoire so he could learn more about it.
Not every family had the special magic. In fact, very few did. The gifts of family magic didn't always grace every family member, either. His own father hadn't received any gifts, or perhaps only a small portion, but his grandfather had, and now him.
He'd been warned that touching a grimoire, especially one that didn't belong to you, was very dangerous. His magic had warned him when he'd encountered another family's tome, but this time it was urging him to open this one.
He complied and felt himself being transported as if pulled by a portkey. His vision spun for a moment before he came to a sudden halt. His legs buckled, and he fell to the ground.
Kneeling, he looked up from the ground and found himself face to face with a giant, translucent, golden stag. Ethereal light flowed off the magnificent beast in every direction. Harry shielded his eyes with his arm as light brighter than the brightest lumos he could cast blinded him for a second before ebbing away into something more tolerable.
"We are well met, Harry Potter," he heard within his mind as well as with his ears. He found the combination caused a slight echo and was a little disorienting.
"My name is Eikthyrnir and I am a Guardian of Magic," the stag continued.
Harry didn't know what to say. He remained kneeling, however. It just felt right. Questions filled his mind, but he was unable to pick one to ask. Did all families have a guardian or just a few? He supposed their purpose was in the name, but how did it all work?
As if the Guardian had read his mind, it began to answer some of his questions.
"Magic created us to guide and protect the magical families that she had gifted with unique abilities," he said. "Some wizards and witches ignored their guardian and failed to protect their gift. Their magic and Guardian have been lost. Others were prudent enough to ensure the magic passed on to their progeny by creating vessels to store Magic's gift. So long as the family possesses the vessel, they can inherit the magical ability."
Harry guessed he was talking about the grimoires.
The stag smiled again and said, "I am grateful to have such an attentive and observant wizard like you to instruct…"
Harry couldn't stop the thought of stealing the other grimoires from crossing his mind. It was an instinct.
"Grimores cannot simply be stolen for the magic to transfer. They usually include some kind of test or challenge to overcome in order to claim the magic for yourself," Eikthyrnir said. "That is why I warned you against stealing the Saxton grimoire. For it to have survived as long as it has, I'm sure the Saxton's and their Guardian have secured their magic, and you are not yet ready."
Harry noted that the stag had said he wasn't ready… yet. And he recalled the warning he'd gotten from his magic when he'd approached the Saxton grimoire. The message had been clear, to him, he remembered, even though the message hadn't been spoken.
"Beyond not being ready," Eikthyrnir said. "Stealing another family's magic should not be done lightly. Some of my kind feel that it is a truly barbaric act."
Harry scoffed at that and said, "Surely, if there was a family that deserved to have their family magic stolen from them, it's the Saxtons."
"Maybe," the stag said, "maybe not. Magic herself gifted each family with its own unique magic. I felt that She alone should decide whether or not they should keep it. It turns out I was mistaken. Magic has since visited me and oh so gently informed me that she has plans for you and that I am to help you fulfill her desires."
Harry could sense that Eikthyrnir found the task distasteful, but Harry was relieved to be getting somewhere, finally.
"She wants me to steal other families' grimoires," he clarified.
The stag snorted at that. "Maybe one day, but I assure you that you aren't ready just yet."
"I already found one grimoire and I wasn't even trying," he said defiantly. "I'd have stolen it if I hadn't been warned against it."
"I know!" The stag bellowed and poked him with its antlers, causing Harry to step back. "You aren't ready yet." He poked Harry again. "You would have been consumed by the magic contained within that tome."
Harry was trapped against a wall at this point.
"It's my job to make sure you're ready the next time you find another family's grimoire, so you better continue to heed my warnings!" Eikthyrnir declared.
"Alright, I get it!" he said, feeling claustrophobic.
Eikthyrnir stepped back from Harry. "Sorry," he said. "I've been feeling a bit anxious watching over you. You are the last of the Potter line and my only tether to this world, and you have been reckless."
Harry understood. He'd probably feel the same way if he were in Eikthyrnir's shoes… or hooves, as it were.
Eikthyrnir began pacing again and didn't speak immediately. After about 14 paces by his count, the stag spoke again. "Magic wants you to steal a few grimoires from families she believes are now unworthy. But, more importantly, I want you to be safe. I don't have a death wish, so we're going to take things slow."
Harry grinned at the news, excited at the prospect of stealing something for a deity.
"That look on your face concerns me," Eikthyrnir said. "Why did Magic have to choose you?"
Harry just shrugged. "No idea," he said. "Maybe I'm just that good?"
The stag laughed openly at that declaration. "I'd say most of it has been luck up to this point. Luck and my guidance. Your trip to Italy gave me ulcers."
Harry had a hard time imagining a deer with ulcers, especially a magical one that was practically immortal, but he let it slide. In fact, he pretty much agreed that he'd been extremely lucky on that trip, even if he had worked really hard to plan things out.
"I don't know why Magic chose you, but she has, despite my pleading with her to reconsider," the stag said. "So it's up to me to make sure you learn how to harness the Potter magic so that you can actually do what Magic wants you to, and not die in the process."
Harry hummed at that and said, "You mean my ability to sense things with magic?"
"Hardly," Eikthyrnir said. "Quite a few families have some sort of ability to sense magic to some degree because of Magic's gift. That's only part of it. Your family magic goes well beyond that, I'm happy to say."
Harry couldn't help but be fascinated by the stag. He was surprisingly human. He shook his thoughts away and focused. "You mean there is more to my ability?"
The stag continued to pace as he talked to Harry. "Do you remember what happened when you were sworn into the Guild of Shadows?"
Harry reflected on that night. It felt like ages since he'd taken the vow, but he remembered it well. He'd felt like his magic had interacted with the guild magic in some way, but he hadn't understood it then, and he didn't understand it now. He nodded that he remembered.
"And the night you destroyed that awful soul fragment hidden behind your scar?" the stag asked. "And the bond you've formed with the werewolf, Remus, and the snake girl, Nerella?"
Harry did remember those events distinctly. The experiences were now etched into his mind.
"Your family magic was interacting with others' magic. It was weighing each and deciding what to do with it."
"Deciding what to do with it?"
"Yes, the Potter magic cannot only sense magic, but when it comes in contact with another's unique magic, it weighs whether or not there is any compatibility and whether or not it is strong enough to manipulate, dominate, or adopt. If it is strong enough, it does what it deems is best. Certain acts make things easier, whether from friendship and love, or from conquest; it will impact your success."
Harry thought about that for a while and tried to figure out exactly how he could use that information. What Sirius had said about his dad being able to successfully transform as an animagus shortly after helping Sirius figure out his animal form was starting to make a whole lot more sense. His father must have successfully adopted the Black family magic, however briefly, and his dad had been able to use it to figure out his own animal form.
There was still a lot that didn't make sense to Harry just yet, though, like him feeling like Luna had been adopted into the family… He reckoned that should have meant that he should be able to tap into the Lovegood family magic as well and said as much to the stag.
Harry thought Eikthyrnir appeared to shrug at his question. "The Potter magic can act on its own, but an experienced practitioner will be able to guide the family magic to do their will instead of relying on the magic to make decisions for them. You're lucky you've been able to do things with it at all, honestly. Nevertheless, without a practiced hand to guide it, it decided that the Lovegood magic simply wasn't compatible."
Harry nodded. "But in the future, I might be able to force the bond?"
The stag laughed. "In the very distant future, if you survive that long, maybe. It will be easier, for now, to let the bonds form naturally. Take your time. You don't have to do everything overnight."
"But if I steal the grimoire instead," Harry said, "I'll be able to skip the bond entirely and simply take the magic for myself?"
"Only if you conquer the protections placed on the grimoire," the stag clarified. "Something you aren't ready for." The stag looked deep into his eyes to drive the point home. "For now, you are to form bonds with those that you can, adding to your strength and abilities, so that you can retrieve the grimoires safely, as Magic has requested."
Harry contemplated what he was being asked to do. It felt like a lot, and he wasn't sure where to even start. "How will I know who to form bonds with?" He asked.
Eikthyrnir grinned wickedly. "Your grandfather, at my instruction and with your grandmother's help, began creating objects that use the Potter magic to assist you in your quest."
The mask he'd found came to mind.
"Go now and explore, have fun, and learn how to do magic like a normal kid, but remember what you have been tasked with and take it seriously."
Harry nodded his understanding. He was relieved that he didn't have to do it all overnight. He'd tackle his task one step at a time. The Guardian had encouraged him to take it slow and to have fun, so he would.
Harry felt himself being pulled away again, swirling into the abyss, and then he was returned to where he'd been standing in the workshop. The Watchtower, he corrected.
Without missing a beat, he walked towards the mask that he now knew his grandparents had created just for him. He put it on, and nothing happened.
Curious if he was missing something, he checked the notebook. His eyes widened as he took in what was on the pages. He read the entry to himself.
Harry,
I wish that we could do more for you than write this letter, but I'm afraid our time is drawing short. We've done what little we can to prepare you for Magic's task.
The mask is perhaps our greatest creation aside from our family. However, we weren't able to finish it in time. We leave the task to you. You'll find most of what you need in the workshop.
We love you and will watch over you from beyond. Good luck, and remember to trust yourself and trust in Magic. She will guide you.
Your loving grandparents, Fleamont & Euphemia Potter
P.S. Remember to have fun.
Harry wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffed.
He wanted more than anything, now more than ever, to make them proud. They'd created all of this for him. It sounded to him like they knew they were going to die, and he wondered if they somehow knew their son would die as well.
This legacy was meant for him; he knew it, and they had known it. He would do his best to live up to their expectations, and he was going to have fun doing it.