"Bogrod," I said evenly, taking my seat across from the goblin. "Tell me in detail about my estate."
Bogrod hesitated, his long fingers tightening around a ledger. "Lord Potter… there isn't much left after so many years of neglect." His tone was cautious, almost apologetic. "There used to be a potion shop in Diagon Alley owned by your family. It was once quite profitable, managed primarily by your grandmother and later by your mother, Lily Potter. Unfortunately, after your grandparents passed, it continued functioning only because of her. Your father, I'm afraid, showed little interest in business or politics."
He glanced up at me briefly before continuing, "After your parents went into hiding, the shop was abandoned. The Ministry seized it for a pittance and later sold it to Lucius Malfoy."
My jaw tightened. "And the house in Godric's Hollow?"
"That, too, was claimed by the Ministry and turned into a tourist site," Bogrod admitted. "However, the ancestral Potter estate still exists—hidden behind powerful wards. Only the Lord of the family can access it."
I frowned. "Then why didn't my father hide there, if it was so well protected?"
"Because, Lord Potter," Bogrod said carefully, "the wards recognize only the bearer of the Lord's ring. Your father never sought recognition as Lord Potter. Therefore, the manor remained sealed."
A quiet sigh escaped me. "And regarding the Ministry's claim on my properties—who accepted payment for the shop? Did they even compensate for Godric's Hollow?"
The goblin shifted uncomfortably. "No, my lord. Your vault never received any payment. As for the potion shop… I was ordered by the branch manager to approve the transaction."
I arched an eyebrow, saying nothing at first. "Did you at least file a written complaint against their actions?"
"Yes," Bogrod said quickly, fumbling through a drawer. "Here—a duplicate copy of the original complaint. But… there was no action taken at the time."
"I see." My tone cooled. "Give me a copy of my current account statement."
He obeyed instantly, passing me the parchment with both hands. I scanned through the figures—clean, at least. "No signs of misappropriation. That's… something."
"Are there any contracts left?" I asked, glancing up.
"No contracts, my lord," Bogrod replied. "But there were several marriage proposals sent to your parents before their deaths. Your mother declined them all."
"Marriage proposals?" I echoed, narrowing my eyes. "From whom?"
"Susan Bones. Ginevra Weasley. And Pansy Parkinson," he listed without inflection.
I didn't need to guess their motives—political alignment, bloodline prestige, perhaps even vault access. I dismissed the thought with a quiet hum. "Fine. Conduct an inheritance ritual."
The process was long and intricate, requiring blood, mana, and ancient sigils. When it was finally complete, the results left me stunned. Apparently, Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw had shared more than legend—they'd had a squib son alongside their daughter Helena, whom they entrusted to another family.
And my mother had known.
She even possessed a private vault registered under the alias LESlyR—Lily Evans Slytherin Ravenclaw. The realization left me silent for a long moment.
"Bogrod," I said finally, voice low, "I want to visit my mother's vault once we're done here."
He nodded in understanding.
"Good. Now inform your branch manager that Lord Potter is invoking his rights under Article Seven and calling for the Goblin Council."
"L-Lord Potter—"
"Don't worry, Bogrod," I cut in. "Nothing will happen to you. I'll vouch for you personally."
Relieved, he handed me a form to fill out, then made a copy to send to his superiors.
"Let's go," I said, rising. "Let your manager stew for a while. I want to see my mother's vault."
Moments later, we boarded one of the rattling carts that sped deep into the Gringotts tunnels. When the doors to the vault finally opened, I saw only about five hundred Galleons and a large trunk embossed with my mother's initials. Ignoring the coins, I approached the trunk and opened it carefully.
Inside was a multi-compartment space—larger than I expected. I stepped into what appeared to be an office: a polished desk, a single chair, shelves of books lining the walls. On the desk sat a simple white envelope addressed in elegant handwriting.
I picked it up and read:
If you are my son, Harry Potter, drip a drop of blood using the pin on this letter. —Lily.
Following her instructions, I pricked my finger and waited. Nothing happened. Frowning, I set the pin down on the desk to inspect the parchment more closely—only for the pin to shoot across the room and embed itself in a book on the shelf. With a faint rumble, the floor trembled as the desk sank downward, reshaping into a spiral staircase.
I couldn't help but grin. "How clever."
Using my Observe ability, I quickly pieced it together. The letter was just a decoy—the pin had been enchanted to recognize my blood. Even the books were for show, part of the mechanism's trigger sequence. The stairs themselves were spelled to appear only when I was alone. No one would ever suspect another floor below such an ordinary-looking trunk apartment.
Descending the steps, I found myself in a vast underground hall that resembled a personal library. Hundreds of books and scrolls filled towering shelves. Then—
"Son, you finally arrived. I was worried something might have gone wrong," said a warm, familiar voice.
I froze. Slowly, I turned toward the sound—and saw a portrait of a beautiful woman with red hair and vivid green eyes. Her smile was gentle, but her gaze shimmered with tears.
"Mother?" I whispered, barely believing it.
"Yes, it's me, baby," Lily's portrait said softly. "I've longed to see you all these years. How have you been?"
"Sorry, Mum," I said, my throat tight. "Things… weren't in my favor. I didn't even know about the magical world until yesterday."
Her expression turned serious. "Then tell me everything, Harry. From the very beginning."