Tell me everything in detail," Lily said at last, her tone soft but solemn.
I shook my head gently. "No need, Mum. You've already done enough for me. You gave up everything so I could live. I don't want you worrying about what's already gone. You've done your part. Now it's my turn."
Her eyes widened slightly as I went on, my voice calm but carrying an edge of conviction. "Your son may not be old enough yet—but when it comes to capability, I can tame this whole world."
The certainty in my words made her fall silent, her painted eyes bright with awe. I wasn't boasting. I knew my limits, and I knew this world's. I wasn't reckless—just certain.
"Yes… yes, you've grown up, my son," Lily murmured after a moment, composing herself. "Harry, there's something you must know—but for that, your mind must be well-protected. It's knowledge that could shake powers far greater than Voldemort."
"Mother, you don't need to worry," I said, meeting her gaze squarely. "My training in mind arts is going well. By Christmas holidays, my Occlumency will be on par with Dumbledore himself."
Her expression flickered between disbelief and concern.
I continued, half-thinking aloud. "Let's assume Dumbledore's a natural at it. He was born in 1881, which means even if he started practicing Occlumency at ten, that's over a hundred years of experience. Two hours a day for a century would amount to, what—eight solid years of continuous practice? Without any system helping him."
I smiled faintly. "Now, even if I were the worst at mind arts—which I'm definitely not. I will at most take 15-16 years of continuous training.
Two hours daily for a little over four months… that's all I'd need. By Christmas, I'll surpass Dumbledore."
Author's Note: These calculations are shown only once—to make it clear I'm not tossing numbers around carelessly. Sorry if it feels technical.
"Harry," Lily said quietly, "don't underestimate him. He's had more than a hundred years of practice."
"Mom, trust me," I said with a small grin. "I'm far more talented than Dumbledore—who knows, maybe even Moody would start worshipping me once he sees what I'm doing."
That made her laugh softly. "Alright," she said finally, smiling again. "I believe you."
"Good. Let's talk more when I'm home. I still have business to deal with."
I gave her a small wave, and the portrait shimmered as I stepped out of the vault, carrying her trunk carefully under my arm.
Bogrod was waiting outside. "Lord Potter," he said quickly, "the branch manager is waiting for you in my office."
"Hmm. Let's not keep him waiting, then."
The cart ride back was brief, the tunnels echoing with the distant rumble of metal wheels. When we arrived, a massive goblin awaited us—taller and broader than any I'd seen. He stood the instant I entered.
"Lord Potter," he greeted in a deep, gravelly voice. "It's an honor. It seems we've had a misunderstanding. Don't worry—I'll have Bogrod executed for violating protocol and assign a more competent manager to your accounts."
I didn't even blink. "What's your name?"
"I am Rognuk."
"Rognuk," I said coolly, "let's not pretend this is a misunderstanding. You used your position as branch manager to harm your client's interests for personal gain. I've already called for the Goblin Council. They'll decide your fate."
His expression twitched, the mask of confidence slipping. "Lord Potter, please," he said quickly, "let's speak privately. I'll compensate you for the trouble—and promise not to reveal your presence here."
There it was—the veiled threat behind the courtesy.
I smiled faintly, the kind that never reached my eyes. "Go ahead. Tell the world I was here. I'm not hiding out of fear, Rognuk. I'm hiding out of convenience. Don't mistake that for weakness. And if you think you can detain me, you're welcome to try."
At my silent command, Alfred activated his spatial veil. To the goblins, it looked as though I vanished completely—then reappeared in the same spot a heartbeat later.
Rognuk and Bogrod both froze, their eyes wide and gleaming with terror.
"Lord Potter, please forgive me," Rognuk stammered, bowing deeply. "I meant no threat. I'll pay whatever compensation you demand."
I leaned forward slightly, my gaze steady. "You will. But not because you fear me—because it's the right thing to do."
The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken dread.