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 09: The Last User
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, the grimoire feeling heavy in his lap.
Vesper had closed his eyes again, though one amber lid remained slightly cracked open, as if the owl was listening to their conversation.
The book had gone quiet after Harry's question. It looked like a thoughtful silence at least.
"Ehm… excuse me. Did you know my father well?" Harry repeated the question when the silence started to become uncomfortable. "His name was James Potter. He would have been at Hogwarts in the seventies. He was… he was my dad, and—"
The grimoire's voice, when it finally spoke, sounded careful and measured. "I do not know any James Potter."
Harry blinked a few times. "What?… but…" How could that be?
"I have no records of a Potter by that name. No memories, no impressions, and no bond."
"That's impossible," Harry shook his head. "You are the Potter Grimoire. You said it yourself. You have been passed down for seven centuries. My father was a Potter, so he must have used you at some point."
"Must?" the book said. "Do you believe that I have bonded with every single Potter that was ever born? That would have been impossible. It is not as simple."
"What do you mean? Not every Potter bonded with you?" Harry could not imagine why any wizard or witch would refuse access to a grimoire containing magical knowledge that traced back to the founder of the house. There had to be another reason.
And there was.
"Other than carrying the blood of the Potter House in their veins, there are some extra requirements to bond with me. And without fulfilling those requirements, one would never be able to open my pages and learn the secrets I hold in me."
"Requirements?" Harry asked. "Like what?"
"When the founder created me, he also added many protections to prevent me from being misused or falling into the wrong hands. If a member of the Potter House does not fulfill these requirements, they will not be able to use me."
"Yes, but what are the requirements?. You haven't s-"
"I cannot say."
Harry blinked. "Why not?"
"Because I was designed this way. If the potential users knew in advance what the requirements would be, they could try to manipulate me to bypass the safeguards and access my contents despite not being worthy of them."
"So… what you are saying is that my father did not fulfill these requirements, and so he was unable to use you?" Harry asked.
"That would be a fair assumption, yes. It would explain why I have no memory of having bonded with him," the book explained.
Harry frowned. He had the feeling that he knew why his father had not been worthy of accessing the family grimoire, but right now it was mere speculation.
"Tell me something… in the last seven centuries, how many Potters have you bonded with?"
The book remained silent for almost a minute before answering. "Counting the current user, Harry Potter, the total number would be… six."
Harry looked completely shocked. "Only six? In twenty-five generations? That's so few people."
"I suppose it is," said the book.
"Who was the last one?" Harry asked.
"Fleamont Potter created the bond on January the thirteenth, nineteen hundred and twenty-two."
"Wow, you can even know the exact date? That's amazing."
"If you say so…" The book sounded bored.
"But wait… Fleamont Potter… nineteen twenty-two." He made some quick mental calculations and concluded something. "Could he have been my grandfather?"
"I do not have access to any recent family tree, so I have no way to know that."
"Mmm…" Something occurred to him. "When was the last time you saw him?"
"Our bond ended on July the thirty-first, nineteen hundred and eighty." The grimoire responded.
It took him a moment to realise. When he did, his eyes opened like plates. "Hold on… what? That was the day Harr— I mean, the day I was born!"
'Could it be a coincidence?' Harry thought for a moment. But if it was, then it was a very strange coincidence indeed.
He sat in silence for a long while, turning the information over in his mind. The grimoire had not bonded with his father. His grandfather, Fleamont, had been the last user, and his bond had ended on the very day Harry was born.
"What does it mean," Harry asked slowly, "for a bond to end?"
"It means the user is no longer able to maintain the connection. Either they chose to release me, which is rare, or they…" The book paused. "They died."
Harry's stomach clenched. "So my grandfather… Fleamont… he died on the day I was born?"
"That is the most likely explanation. I cannot be certain, as I was not active at the time. But the bond does not break without reason."
"So you have no idea what happened to him?" Harry's mind raced. In the books, Fleamont Potter had died of dragon pox, a wizarding disease, before James and Lily married. But that was long before 1980. Here, everything was different. "Was he sick? Was there an accident? Did someone…"
He did not finish the sentence. The thought was too horrible.
"I do not know," the grimoire admitted. "I can only record events that take place while I am active, like right now. Or when they are written in my pages."
"So you dont know what happened since the last time you were used, and the time I found you inside that vault?"
"Correct." The books responded.
Harry looked down at the grimoire, at its closed cover and its burned stag symbol. He had so many questions at the moment.
About his grandfather, about his parents...about this version of Dumbledore and the war that ended ten years ago. Who were they even fighting?... Does Voldemort exist here?.
But the book had already given him all the answers it could.
"So...what can you do?" Harry sounded slightly frustrated. After gaining access to a talking book that belonged to his family, he had been expecting to learn much more about them, but this didn't seem to be the purpose of the grimoire.
"Inside my pages, you will find a collection of the most powerful battle spells, curses, counter-curses, and rituals that the founder of the Potter House and the four users that came after him were able to study and record."
"Oh," Harry liked that sound of that. If he was going to survive in this twisted version of Magical Britain, he was going to need all the help he could get.
And learning the magic contained in this grimoire seemed like a great first step.
He reached for the cover and tried to open it...only to find out that he still couldn't.
"It's stuck...why won't you open?"
"I cannot give you full access to this knowledge just yet."
"What?!. That's ridiculous. You are a book...your purpose is to be read. So let me read you!" Harry was getting frustrated with this thing.
"I cannot do that." The grimoire responded.
Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and did his best to keep his emotions in control, because right now, he kinda wanted to throw this talking book out of the window.
"Okay...so what do I need to open you?" He asked after calming down.
"According to the safeguards set in place by my original creator. The user must have a fully formed magical core and have gained full control of their wand."
Harry froze for a moment. "I...magical circle?. What is that?"
The room remained silent for a few seconds.
Then the grimoire spoke again.
"For information on the subject of magical cores, you may consult the following books: The Foundation of Sorcery by Alardus the Wise. A Treatise on Magical Cores by Morgana of the Fells. The Young Wizard's Primer by Septimus Willow. And… The Art of Intent by Rowena Ravenclaw."
Harry blinked. "Ehm..." He looked at the pile of books on his desk before going back to the grimoire. "I dont think I have any of those...will I find them in Flourish and Blotts?"
"I have no record of this Flourish and Blotts." Responded to the book.
"It's a book shop in Diagon Alley," Harry said.
"A book shop would be a good place to find books."
Harry frowned. "Yeah...thanks. I guess, I'll figure it out myself."
He wanted to argue, but was too tired and frustrated right now.
"You are not very useful, you know that?"
The book did not respond.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He focused on the peculiar pulse being emitted by the grimoire. When, with a mere thought, he used his will to push it back into the place that it came from. A place that he had no name for at this point.
The book faded from his lap, and Harry could once more feel it in the same place as before.
"Useless thing," he muttered under his breath. "Can't open, and can't tell me anything worthwhile."
He looked up.
Vesper was staring at him with both amber eyes wide open. The owl's head was tilted slightly, and there was something in his gaze that looked remarkably like disappointment. Or perhaps pity.
"What?" Harry asked.
Vesper clicked his beak and turned away, fluffing his feathers in a gesture that clearly said, You are an idiot.
Harry sighed. "Fine. Maybe I was being a bit harsh. But you have to admit that the talking book was very frustrating..."
The owl did not respond. He simply closed his eyes and settled back into his perch, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The next morning dawned on him. Harry came down to breakfast still yawning; his sleep had been troubled by strange dreams about talking books, empty vaults, and old wizards with cold eyes.
Petunia set a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, and he ate without really tasting anything.
"You are quiet this morning, love," Petunia said, sitting across from him with a cup of tea. "Did you sleep well?"
"Not really," Harry admitted. "Too much thinking."
"That happens," she said softly. "Especially after a day like yesterday."
Dudley was already outside, kicking a football against the garden wall.
Vernon was reading his newspaper, but Harry could tell he was only half-focused on it. His eyes kept drifting to Harry, as if checking that he was still there.
"We need to go back to Diagon Alley this afternoon," Harry said, pushing his eggs around his plate. "To pick up the robes from Madam Malkin's."
Petunia nodded. "Yes, I remember. I'll take you. Vernon has work, and Dudley has a playdate with Piers."
"Good." Harry hesitated, then added, "Do you think we could stop by Flourish and Blotts as well? There are some books I want to look for. About… magic. The basics. I need to learn before school starts."
Petunia's face flickered with a mixture of concern and surprise, but she nodded with a smile on her face. "Of course, Harry. Whatever you need."
Harry finished his breakfast, then excused himself. He went back to his room and picked up one of the textbooks from the pile.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. He flipped it open to the first chapter and began to read.
"Chapter One: The Proper Way to Hold a Wand."
He smiled, despite everything. He had to start somewhere.
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