"Welcome Home, Harry"
Inside the mansion, Wanda and Harry were guided to the living room. The place was impeccably decorated, with ancient tapestries and paintings on every wall. As they crossed the threshold, all the portraits began whispering excitedly to each other upon seeing the boy. Some figures even smiled with visible tenderness.
One of the largest paintings, located above the fireplace, showed an elderly couple. Both looked at Harry with shining eyes full of emotion.
"You're the spitting image of your father when he was your age!" exclaimed the woman in the portrait, with a warm and motherly smile.
"Welcome, Harry. We've been waiting for you for a very, very long time," added the man, his voice calm and proud.
"Waiting for me? Who are you?" asked Harry, confused but curious.
"We're your paternal grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter," the man replied with a wide smile.
"My grandparents…?" Harry murmured, surprised. For the first time, he felt a family connection beyond the Dursleys. A strange warmth began to fill his chest.
"That's right. And this, Harry, is the old Potter family mansion—one of the oldest and most respected in the wizarding world," Fleamont explained proudly.
Then his eyes subtly shifted toward Wanda, who stood silently in a corner of the room.
"By the way... I sense Lily's blood in you. May I ask who you are?" Fleamont inquired politely.
"She's my mum," Harry answered quickly with a smile.
Euphemia and Fleamont exchanged a look. Seeing the sincerity in Harry's eyes, both nodded softly.
"Then welcome to the Potter family as well," said Euphemia kindly.
Before continuing with more explanations, Fleamont pointed to a book on the nearby sofa, bound in dark leather with the family crest embossed in gold.
"Harry, before we explain everything you need to know, there's something you must do. Do you see that book? We need you to touch it. That's all."
"Why?" Harry asked, frowning.
"The family's house-elves are bound by an ancient magical contract to this mansion and to the blood of the Potter heir. But after your parents' deaths, that bond was broken. Without it, their magic weakens by the day. They've kept this house running without magic for years, cleaning everything by hand… just to survive until you arrived. But their time is running out."
Euphemia lowered her gaze, visibly affected. "It breaks our hearts to see them cling to life with so much effort and pride. They are loyal servants of this house, and they don't deserve that suffering."
The two elves, Liz and Gris, stood in a corner. Upon hearing those words, they couldn't hold back their tears.
"Master, miss… it's not like that. Liz and I don't mind suffering a little… because Master Harry has finally come," said Gris.
Harry didn't hesitate. He walked over to the book and placed his hand on the cover. A brilliant blue light emerged from the tome and spread throughout the mansion, like a wave of ancient magic awakening after years of slumber. When it touched the elves, both shuddered, and their bodies glowed briefly.
Liz dropped to her knees, tears of joy falling from her face. "Thank you, young master! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts!"
Even Gris, who had maintained a stern and solemn posture until then, couldn't help but let out a trembling sigh, deeply moved.
"That was… incredible," Harry murmured.
Wanda watched him with pride, though she also cast a questioning look at the portraits, waiting for answers.
Fleamont nodded. "You see, the Potter family is protected by an ancient pact made with the Elven King centuries ago. One of our ancestors was a healer who saved his life, and in gratitude, a magical bond was sealed."
"A bond?" Wanda asked, frowning.
"That contract ensures there will always be two elves dedicated to the Potter heir, no matter the circumstances. If a Potter is in danger, the elves will appear—even if it means breaking ties with other households," Fleamont explained.
"And why weren't they with Harry from the beginning?"
"Because after James and Lily's death, his temporary magical guardian issued an order to keep all magical beings away from the boy. They didn't realize that order interfered directly with the ancestral contract. When the order finally lost effect, the elves were able to send a letter… but by then, years had passed."
Fleamont lowered his voice with regret. "If James had known about this place… if he'd had time to seek refuge here with Lily and Harry, perhaps things would be different today."
Harry listened in silence, but inside he boiled with a mix of sadness and anger. The very idea that the elves had suffered because of someone—even unintentionally—made him clench his fists.
"But now none of that matters anymore," said Euphemia gently, trying to lift the mood.
"With Harry here, the Potter family can be reborn. Not just as a bloodline, but as a bearer of knowledge. Our most valuable inheritance isn't gold or titles… it's what we know."
"The Potter family was founded by Linfred of Stinchcombe, an exceptional healer. He created potions still used at St. Mungo's to this day. While other families hid their discoveries, he shared many of his, believing magic should serve the world—not just the powerful."
"Of course, he also protected discoveries that were dangerous… or too powerful to fall into the wrong hands."
"All Potter descendants have been educated in potions, herbology, and alchemy. Eventually, one of our sons married a descendant of Ignotus Peverell, and thus, the Cloak of Invisibility entered our family. Only the direct heir can use it to its fullest."
Wanda listened attentively, recognizing the depth and nobility that surrounded the history of the Potters. Harry, for his part, didn't quite know how to process it all. But one thing was certain: something had ignited inside him—a spark that might one day become a flame.
A flame worthy of the Potter legacy.
"Invisibility cloak?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"You don't have it?" Fleamont asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
"Wasn't it in the vault?" Euphemia asked, turning to Wanda.
"There was no cloak," Wanda replied, her expression serious as she crossed her arms.
Fleamont and Euphemia exchanged a grave look, their faces tightening at the news.
"Gris," said Fleamont in a firm voice. "Could you take care of retrieving the Invisibility Cloak?"
"Yes, sir," replied the elf with a slight bow. He snapped his fingers a few times, getting used to his magic again. On the fifth snap, he vanished with a soft flash.
"Well then, let's continue," said Fleamont with a sigh, trying to ease the atmosphere. "The Potter family has always taken pride in its knowledge of potions and its vocation for helping others… though, to be honest, we've also made quite a bit of gold from it."
Euphemia glanced sideways at him and gave his arm a gentle tap. He just smiled.
"The manor holds ancient potion recipes, a magical greenhouse with extinct herbs, and alchemical tools dating back centuries. Each heir has been trained in potions, herbology, and—if they wished—alchemy. Though your father…" He paused with an ironic smile. "James was a bit… rebellious when it came to his duties."
"He was rather lazy, actually," murmured Euphemia with an indulgent smile. "Before inheriting this manor, he ran off to join the war against the Dark Lord," she added with slight annoyance.
"But Harry, this is entirely up to you. No one will force you to follow that path. This is your home now," added Fleamont seriously.
"I like learning," said Harry with sincere interest.
"Really?" asked Fleamont, raising an eyebrow. The resemblance to his son was undeniable, and he hesitated for a moment.
"Yes. Mom works at the bookstore, so I get to study while I'm with her. I like being near her," explained Harry with a smile.
And that was when everyone understood the source of his enthusiasm: it wasn't just love for learning—it was love for his mother.
"I see… then you're different from your father," commented Fleamont with a small chuckle, while Euphemia gave him a playful yet stern look.
"Liz, please take Harry and…" he paused, looking at Wanda. "Sorry, you didn't say your name."
"Wanda," she replied calmly.
"Take Harry and Wanda on a tour of the manor. Show them everything without holding back," said Fleamont with a warm smile.
"Yes, sir," replied Liz cheerfully. She gave a small bow and began to guide Wanda and Harry through the halls.
First, she showed them the bedrooms. They were enormous—each one as large as a small house inside, enchanted with expansion charms. Then she led them to the kitchen, which looked more like an alchemy lab.
"You cook here?" asked Harry, amazed at the many magical instruments he had never seen before.
"Yes, though until recently we did everything without magic. Since we couldn't use it, we hunted our food with spears in the nearby forest and cooked over a campfire," Liz explained naturally.
"That must have been really hard…" murmured Harry, looking at the elf with compassion.
"At first, yes. We even ate insects for a while… that's why Gris hates bugs—he's a little traumatized by them," said Liz with a smile, covering her mouth with both hands.
"Come, now I'll show you the library," she said enthusiastically, leading them to a large wooden door.
When she opened it, an immense library was revealed, with high ceilings and endless shelves. Some books floated through the air, arranging themselves, while others seemed to move as if they had a will of their own. From a skylight, a book flew in and, after colliding with a group of neatly arranged books, was shoved into its place amid magical sparks.
Wanda recognized it instantly: it was a recent book—one by Gilderoy Lockhart.
"The Potter family holds magical contracts with every bookstore in the world," Liz explained proudly. "Even if a new store opens, the contract binds it without their knowledge. Every time a new book is published, a copy is sent here and paid for automatically. That's how we ensure we have every existing work—magical or non-magical."
"This library was inspired by an ancient Muggle one—Alexandria," Liz added. "If a book is destroyed, another identical copy will be magically summoned. But if it's the only one in existence… well, then it's placed on a special shelf, over there."
She pointed to a distant section protected with enchantments.
"That shelf holds the unique books. Some are dangerous, others sacred. But if they're there, it's because no other copies exist. That's why they must be handled with extreme care."
Wanda, who had been watching curiously, froze upon seeing one of those books. Her body tensed instantly. There, among ancient tomes and magical relics, rested a book bound in a dark, living cover, with strange symbols that seemed to shift and move.
Her eyes widened with fear. She knew it well. It was the book of chaos. The book from which the Scarlet Witch's magic emerged.
The book of her damnation… and of her power.
The Darkhold.