Chapter 6 – The Gryffindor Legacy Part 2

This...What a profound and insightful note from my ancestor! My life is forever changed for the better! It gives me all the answers to the questions I never knew to ask!

....Or at least that is how I would be reacting if I UNDERSTOOD ANYTHING INSIDE IT! *Sigh*

Ok, so this is probably pretty lit, right? My ancient ancestor who claims to be "one of the greatest wizards in the world," wants to teach me personally through some magical journal that he merged his mind and soul into. That doesn't sound ominous or dangerous at all... Anyway, he said to a Gryffindor honor and chivalry is everything, but I am starting to think Gryffindors are a fair bit more about masochism if their propensity to cut themselves and smear their blood all over things is any indication. I mean really, magical passwords exist! We just proved that with the priest statue! So, tell me why I need to cut myself again to add my blood to the book? Oh! Is the paper cut still bleeding?...nope. It closed as if it was never there. Sighing loudly, I take the pocket knife out and, once again, reopen the cut on my thumb.

"This is totally going to scar now. I am gonna have a dumb scar on my thumb because my family keeps asking me to put blood on stuff. " I grumble to myself as I press the bloody thumb to the book. As soon as the blood makes contact with the journal, a blinding flash of golden light comes from the cover.

Aaaaaand I'm blind. Great. Seeing was overrated anyway, right? What's that? No? It is awesome and I will miss it terribly? Well crap...

"#######!!!!!!!"

A voice boomed inside my head. I always thought that was a lame way to describe a loud noise in your mind, but now I know it had some truth to it. I felt immense pressure inside of my skull and immediately had a staggering migraine. I felt my hands and feet start to go numb and I fell to my knees, somehow taking the journal with me to the ground. I was too stunned to really even think as if I had just gotten punched in the face by Mike Tyson. My vision blurred and I saw black at the edges of my periphery. Yea....this was a bad idea.

"### ### ###?"

The voice spoke again, but much quieter this time. The words sounded odd. Old...oh for fuck's sake, are you fucking kidding me right now? Mother would have washed my mouth out with soap for cursing like that, but I think it is justified at this moment. Old English? Or something predating that? Great. So much for the amazing journal teaching me all-powerful magic, I would be better off selling it off to a museum!

"# ###### ######## ###....##! # #### # #### #### ## ##### ##........#### ## ##### ## ####....."

I was just about to comment on the futility of speaking more if I didn't understand in the first place when my entire world was replaced by pain. It felt like an icepick was being repeatedly stabbed into my brain. My body went completely numb and all I felt was a freezing chill running through my limbs. I completely collapsed to the ground, falling right on top of the journal as blood leaked from my eyes, nose, and mouth. Luckily, I only felt this for about 3 seconds before darkness enveloped my vision. I gleefully and gratefully escaped into the nothingness I was suddenly surrounded by.

* * *

"Jordan?"

I tasted blood in my mouth as consciousness came back to me. I tried to open my eyes, but they burned terribly, so I kept them shut. I did, however, let out a piteous groan.

"Jordan! It is good to have you back my boy! I was worried the mind merging killed you for a second." A man's deep voice said inside my head, which sent more slivers of pain shooting through it.

"Stop..." I croaked, my voice ragged and dry. I swallowed and tried talking again, "Stop talking in my head. It hurts, dammit."

Silence. Blessed, lovely silence. I smiled weakly to myself as I curled up into a ball, my limbs still tingling from feeling being brought back to them. My body was incredibly heavy and I felt like I hadn't slept for 2 weeks straight.

"I...need to sleep. I am so tired..." I whimpered and quickly passed out once again.

* * *

I woke to sunlight on my face. Did I not close my bedroom curtains? Realizing I was freezing cold, I reached around for my blankets, but my hands only met cold, hard stone. I shot up from laying down to sitting as the memories of what happened came back to me in a rush. Stitting up that quickly proved to be a mistake as the sudden movement made me incredibly dizzy. I leaned over and threw up violently.

Deciding that bile tasted far worse than blood, I tried to sit up again, but slowly this time. My eyes were crusted shut so tight I needed to physically pry them open with my fingers. The light that greeted me was blinding as it passed through broken stained glass windows of the entrance hall. The sight brought back my headache, but only at a minimal level. I moved my hands and wiggled my toes in my sneakers to make sure everything was there and working. Feeling something was on my face I rubbed at it and watched flakes of dried blood fall to the floor. I felt sore, weak, tired, thirsty, and hungry.

I surmised my predicament in one word, "Ouch."

Focusing on what I came here for, I looked down at the journal beneath me. Gone was the tattered leather-bound wrapping, and in its place was a smooth, unblemished red leather journal with golden metal corners, a golden ribbon bookmark, and the words 'Property Of Jordan Godric Leoren' embossed in golden flowing lettering on the bottom middle of the cover. I picked it up and noticed that the golden metal also adorned the spine as it intertwined in the symbol of a griffon.

"That looks a lot like our family crest..." I mused to myself.

"I should hope so." A calm, deep, and quiet voice responded in my head.

I jumped at the sudden voice, but, unlike last time, it didn't hurt or shake me at all. It was actually kind of soothing, in a way. I felt safe listening to that voice. Even speaking quietly, it held an air of power, elegance, and kindness.

"Jordan..." the voice continued, "I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for the pain I have caused you. I knew the mind merging process would hurt, but I was not aware of the effect it would have on someone so young. I almost killed you....right after you finally returned to me...and for that, I am deeply sorry. I understand if you are upset. The Gods know I would be."

I was suddenly unsure of myself. On the one hand, hell yes I was mad! This book almost killed me! Not to mention, based on the sunlight, I was knocked out for at least 13 hours...Mother was going to kill me...On the other hand...I couldn't stay mad. My ancestor was trapped inside of a book for 1,000 years...I would have been eager to talk to someone too. Plus, we could now understand each other and that meant he could teach me. It meant my life from this point on was going to be a magical adventure. How could I be upset about that? So what if I almost died, I just got a cheat code to real life! Real. Freakin'. Magic.

"It's alright Mr. Gryffindor. I understand that it had to be done. I am excited for the opportunity to learn from you!"

I heard a bark of laughter in my head as Gryffindor responded, "Jordan, you don't have to call me 'Mr. Gryffindor!' With the circumstances as they are, I will be with you from now on. I would love it if we could form a deeper relationship than just what formalities dictate. How about you call me...Grandpa?" He ended his sentence with a question as if to ask me if it was alright.

"Sure, Grandpa Gryffindor it is. I know we just met and started talking, but I need to go. My parents are going to be worried sick and I bet I am grounded for, like, a month."

"Hold on my boy. We have a couple of things to do first. I will help you smooth things over with your parents. From what I saw in your memories, they are reasonable enough people and they will be beyond thrilled to learn you awakened your magic fully."

I stood up shakily and remembered what the last thing he had asked me to do in the note was.

"Ah, right. I need to get your wand." I stated matter of factly.

"...I must admit, I am a bit surprised. I know that you are more mature due to your time and experiences at your job, but you seem to be taking this all remarkably well. Is it the thirst for adventure that spurs you on so? I saw many memories of you longing for it."

"Partly," I responded, "but mostly it is that I get to learn magic! Real Magic! I am too excited to worry about the small things."

"Hmph. Fair enough I suppose. Still, I advise you more caution in the future. Most magical objects that can talk to you are not benevolent. If I was not bound to you by your blood, I would have doubted this situation were I in your shoes. Either way, before we go to the throne room, we need to clean you up and heal your wounds. You and your health is the most important thing right now, and you will need to be in good condition to head home after this."

"Oh ok, what do I need to do?" I wondered as I looked around for a healing fountain or something. They had those in games, after all, why not in real life?

"Go down back down the hall and enter the 2nd door on the left. We have a healing font installed there. If that isn't working anymore, then there are several healing potions inside the cabinets in the back of the room."

I was right! There is a healing fountain or font at least. Whatever that meant. I followed Grandpa's....that felt a bit weird to say, but I am sure I would get used to it. I never knew my own grandfathers. Mother doesn't talk about her family and I have only seen portraits and pictures of Father's father. Because of that, the thought of having a new Grandfather that I can talk to and learn from was very appealing to me.

I followed Grandpa's instructions and made my way down the nearly pristine, if empty, end of the entrance hallway and approached the door. I reached for the handle, an old, curved wrought iron thing with no lock, and pulled....and it was locked? I looked at the handle again, seeing no obvious lock. I checked the rest of the door. It was a traditional ironbound wooden door, like the ones you see in dungeon crawler games. There were some scratches in the wood and blast marks on the door, but it was still in good shape and looked barely damaged.

"Oh, right! You will need to read the first two sections of the Journal. That will teach you all the magics involved in the castle and the branch family manor. I locked down the castle before the battle, so nothing too valuable should have been stolen. The protections on the doors and important objects are at 7th circle at the minimum, so very few would have been able to loot them as they left. Even those who could have either died or were too injured to spare the time to try before the battle ended. Once you learn a bit of the basics, I can teach you how to disarm the protections as the castle master. For now, simply put your hand on the door and say 'Open'."

"Are circles like spell levels in D&D?" I asked as I did as he instructed and the door swung open. I loved the tabletop role-playing game but was never able to play it myself as I lacked friends my age who wanted to play. I watched tons of videos with people playing it on YouTube and Twitch, however. The things Mathew Mercer can do with a story astounds me every time.

Grandpa paused for a moment before answering. "Similar, yes, but the Dungeons & Dragons spells you remember are different to real magic. Some of them could work and would be interesting to attempt to invent if they haven't been already, but most are fundamentally flawed. There aren't different types of magic, you see. Magic is magic. Nature magic is magic. Arcane magic is magic. Some cultures believe in divine magic, but at the core of it all, it is still just normal magic. At least all that I have seen."

I entered the room with some serious expectations but was pretty disappointed all in all. There was no giant fountain spewing red liquid, instead, it was almost designed as a study. A large desk sat in the center of the room with two comfy-looking, leather, wing-back chairs directly opposite of it. The floor had an elaborate rug in something close to a Celtic design and on walls around the room were a small bookshelf behind the desk with 2 large double door cabinets adjacent to it, a stone half pillar with a hollowed-out top filled with red liquid to the left of the desk (The font I would assume), a long end table on the right of the desk, 2 more of the same kinds of chairs opposite of the desk in the corners near me, and 2 paintings on either side of the desk, one above the font and the other above the end table. The desk had nothing on top of it other than a red leather desk mat with, of course, gold metal embellishments on the sides, and the end table had several empty potion vials in different sizes held by rosewood bottle holders and a large gold container....a cauldron, I realized.

"You really have a thing for gold plated metal," I teased Grandpa Gryffindor.

"They are not gold plated," he responded with a chuckle.

"All the gold-colored metal I have seen...is solid gold?" I stammered in astonishment. My family was rich, but not let's-put-gold-on-everything-in-our-house rich.

"Of course my boy! I ran a prestigious school for close to 100 years and adventured to the far reaches of the world for decades before that! Did you think me a pauper?"

"...you've seen the state of the castle in my memories, right?"

"Ah. Yes...we will need to pay a hefty sum to get this place fixed up...Maybe I am a pauper after all...'