Shattering Timelines

Harry stared in awe at the huge piles of artifacts surrounding him. “Don’t you… Don’t you think this is a bit much, Kreacher?” Harry weakly asked his bustling house elf.

Kreacher looked up, confused. “Master Harry wanted Black’s heritage back. Kreacher gots some of it back for him. Kreacher still needs to finds the Noble House of Blacks’ Grimoire.”

“Well, I just wanted it to be like it was originally. I didn’t think the Order had gotten rid of so many things. Did they realize how important some of this stuff is?” Harry mumbled to himself, carefully picking up a book that claimed to have been written by Merlin. “Wait, grimoire? The Blacks’ had a family grimoire?”

Kreacher nodded rather proudly. “The house of Black has always kept the grimoire! It goes centuries and centuries backs! Its carries many important things!” Kreacher loudly proclaimed. “Kreacher promises to get it backs!”

Harry looked at the artifacts around him, extremely puzzled. “How could they get rid of the family grimoire? Hell, most pureblood families don’t even have a grimoire anymore. They’ve all been destroyed,” he mumbled to himself, “Surely the Order was not that bigoted as to get rid of the family grimoire because it had a few dark spells in it!” He didn’t even know if the Potters had originally had a grimoire, and here the Order of the Phoenix had given the Blacks’ book away.

Harry shook his head. He had come a lot further than the boy who originally believed that dark magic was the root of all evil. He had come to realize many things during the war. He realized that the reason people had labeled certain magics as ‘dark’ was because it was more powerful than other magics that had been deemed safer. In fact, Harry had mainly fought with dark magic throughout the war. The spells were significantly stronger, and the Death Eaters expected and knew how to counter light magic.

The Ministry was the main reason why people feared dark magic. Anything they could not control or understand was labeled dark, and Harry truly hated the Ministry for it. Poor Andromeda had been forced to take Teddy into hiding not even a few weeks after her daughter and son-in-law had died because the Ministry had labeled half-breeds as dark creatures. Only Harry knew where their safehouse was.

Although Harry’s opinion on the dark arts had changed for the better, many others had changed for the worse. People began to associate dark magic with evil since Voldemort mainly used dark magic. Even now, after the war, there was still a strong stigma against anything considered dark. Werewolves and half-breeds such as people who were part werewolf or part vampire were now being considered dark creatures and forced into camps where the Ministry had full control over them. It was rumored that the Ministry was beginning to force anybody with creature blood in their family line to register, another way for the Ministry to try to control something they claimed was dark. Harry was almost thankful Remus wasn’t around to see what the world had come to.

Harry’s own friends didn’t even agree with him on dark magic. Both Ron and Hermione claimed it darkened the soul every time a somebody used dark magic. He and his friends had had many fights about whether or not they should use dark spells during the war. They couldn’t accept it at all. Because of his friends strong condemnation of the dark arts, Harry had been careful what kind of spells he used around them during the war. Whenever they were near, he forced himself to only use light magic, even if he got injured more when he did so, but as the war drew on, he began to use darker and darker spells until he only used grey spells during battle. The darker the magic he used, the further away his two best friends pulled. Towards the end of the war, they were barely talking to him and always made sure he was being watched carefully by someone they deemed acceptable. Harry hadn’t even been casting dark spells at the time! He had made sure he had cast strictly grey spells around his friends, but even that had caused them to think he was going dark.

After the war, his friends had slowly but surely separated themselves from Harry. Even though they used to be his best friends, Harry was sure they were the ones that had started the rumors that he was going dark, and although most of the Wizarding world still claimed him as their hero, it was only a matter of time before people started to believe the rumors. The Wizarding world had always been fickle like that. They had turned their backs on him more times than he could count. One moment they would be begging Harry to go save them, and the next they were wanting to throw him behind bars.

Harry shook his head as if it would throw the depressing thoughts from it. He carefully started to sort through all the artifacts. The Blacks had many rare books that Harry knew Hermione would do anything to get her hands on. Hundreds of books were in the many piles and stacks scattered around the room. There were many books that discussed the nature of magic and where it came from. There were books on spell casting, wards, and wandless magic. Countless books were dedicated to blood magic. Harry even found three books that had been written by Rowena Ravenclaw, herself.

“Kreacher,” Harry said after he sorted through one of the many piles around him, “how much of the Black’s library is still missing?” The Blacks’ library had been impressive when he first arrived at the house when he was fifteen. Even though he despised dark magic then, Harry knew that knowledge was power, and the Black library was full of knowledge. Not that it stayed that way for long. Once Mrs. Weasley had realized what exactly was in the library she had been letting Harry browse, she threw a fit and demanded that everything pertaining to dark magic be removed. Since she was the one who led the raid against the library, most of the books were thrown out. Mrs. Weasley had single-handedly destroyed the enormous source of knowledge that the Blacks had tried so hard to make over their many lifetimes.

Kreacher looked up from sorting through his own pile. “Kreacher found most of family’s heirlooms, but Kreacher only found small part of Master’s library,” Kreacher disappointedly said, his hand inching toward one of the thicker books in his pile.

Harry's eyes were quick because of the many years of watching for Uncle Vernon’s temper, quidditch, and being on the run during the war. “You’re not allowed to punish yourself, Kreacher! I’m sure you’re doing the most you can!”

The house elf reluctantly let go of the book, nodding. “Kreacher promises he will do better! He will gets everythings back for Master!” Kreacher said determinedly.

Harry gave Kreacher a small smile. “Just do your best. It’s okay if you can’t get everything back,” he said before pausing briefly, “...Just make sure you do everything in your power to find the family grimoire if you would. That is one thing that should not have been removed from this house.” Harry’s face darkened with his words.

Kreacher started nodding vigorously. “Kreacher promises! He will find the grimoire! Kreacher starts looking right now!”

Kreacher bounced up on unsteady feet. Harry watched him, slightly worried. The house elf was getting old, and there were many dangerous artifacts in the towering stacks surrounding them.

“Be careful, Kreacher you might-,” Harry was cut off by the tiny house elf toppling over and knocking a stack over which subsequently fell into another stack and another, “fall...”

Harry quickly tried to scramble to get out of the way of the falling books and ancient artifacts but tripped over the small stacks of books he had been sorting. The largest pile of books swayed dangerously in front of him; one large book fell from the top before it returned to its original position.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. That would have been just his luck, being killed by a stack of books about the dark arts. Ron always did say dark magic would kill him. Did it count if what killed him wasn’t a true spell?

Harry shook his head before getting up. A howl distracted him. “ I’S SO SORRY MASTER HARRY!!” Kreacher wailed throwing himself at Harry’s feet, “KREACHER IS TERRIBLY SORRY MASTER!!!” The house elf continued to wail, fearfully looking up at Harry.

“Kreacher! Kreacher, it’s fine! I’m okay! It was just an accident! I don’t blame you!” Harry said, trying to calm the hysterical house elf. “Are you alright?”

Kreacher looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. “Master is worried about Kreacher?” he asked confused before his eyes teared up again, “Master Harry is truly like Master Regulus!! Master Harry is too good to Kreacher!” Kreacher began to wail again.

Harry looked down at the sobbing house elf with a mixture of annoyance and pity. Harry rubbed his hand through his hair, trying to get rid of an increasing headache. “Kreacher, I order you to stop crying!” Harry finally snapped at him. Kreacher’s jaw immediately snapped shut. Harry continued, “Kreacher, I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re both fine! There is no need to be upset. I’m not going to punish you, understood?” Kreacher slowly nodded.

“Now that we’ve established we’re both fine, how about we go back to our original tasks? I believe you were about the important task of finding the grimoire.” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. Kreacher’s head snapped up. “Kreacher’s sorry for not starting sooner! Kreacher starts now!” The house elf disappeared from where he was kneeling with a loud pop. Harry shook his head in exasperation. “House elves, they’re gonna be the death of me.”

He looked around the room before groaning. The room was in utter chaos. All but two of the hectically stacked piles had fallen. Books were everywhere. There wasn’t a spot on the floor in the room that wasn’t covered in something or the other. If it wasn’t books, it was ancient artifacts. The Blacks’ family tea set had been scattered, the teapot almost being crushed by the book, The Entire History of the Wizarding World, the largest book in the room. The teapot must have been charmed for it to be able to endure that kind of pressure.

Harry slowly began to pick up everything that had fell. He picked up the book that had fallen from the pile that had almost crushed him. It was a dark emerald color with a strange crest on the cover. The cover looked as if it was made of scales but were unlike any he had ever seen, including the scales from the basilisk he had killed in his second year. The book had a weird crest of a dragon taking flight embossed in silver on the cover. A large metal dragon with bared fangs and eyes made of emerald was the only locking mechanism for it. Harry glanced at the weird lock. There was no keyhole. 'Huh, must be opened by magic,' Harry thought to himself.

Harry looked at the book, curiously. He turned the book over looking for any kind of summary or writing, but as he did so, his thumb slipped, cutting his finger on one of the fangs of the dragon. Harry glared at the metal dragon before sticking his finger in his mouth and continued to look for any kind of title or summary of the book, ignoring the stinging pain in this thumb. Something cold wrapped around his wrist in a vice-like grip. Harry shrieked, which he would later come to deny, and dropped the book, but the heaviness on his wrist remained.

The intricate dragon that had been the lock was now tightly coiled around his wrist, it’s head resting lightly on the back of his hand. Harry slowly lifted his wrist up to eye level, trying not to disturb it in case it bit him. Now that it wasn’t attached to the book, Harry could see it was a lot more lifelike than should have been possible, even with magic. He carefully brought his face closer to the metal beast. Its extremely delicate wings looked like they could be crushed with barely a touch were slightly outstretched, giving it the look that it was going to get ready to fly. It had talons as sharp as knives pricking into his forearm, a sharp, barbed tail that tight curled around his arm, and detailed scales all over its body, even around the emerald eyes… Which were now glaring at him. Harry wrenched his head back just the metal dragon lifted its head and breathed fire the size of a flame from a cigarette lighter at him.

Harry immediately kept his arm as far away from him as possible. “How much do I truly need my hand?” Harry grumbled to himself as he carefully bent down to pick up the book from the floor while keeping his arm elevated. Since the dragon lock was gone, he could easily open the book. He flipped through the pages to see if there was anything that would tell him how to get rid of the dragon, but everything was written in a strange flowing language he had never seen before. Groaning in disappointment, Harry turned to the front pages to look for a title. 'Maybe I can get Hermione to research the book without her demanding to know where I got it,' Harry thought to himself. He shook his head before turning to the very first page. There, written in bright green ink, was a name he did not want to see. Salazar Slytherin. Harry dropped his arm in astonishment, before cursing as the dragon bit him for startling it. “Great, just what I needed! A dragon stuck on my arm and a book written by Salazar Slytherin that I can't read! Why do these things always happen to me?”