The day began far too early for my liking — Dumbledore had insisted we Apparate to Gringotts "before the sun is too high," as he put it. Apparently, the goblins were more agreeable in the morning. Personally, I doubted that. Goblins didn't have moods. They had profit margins.
Still, the old man had a point. With him as my "guide," as he called it, this process would be a lot smoother. The last thing I needed was to get on the bad side of the goblins before I'd even reestablished my family name.
The world twisted and snapped as we Apparated into Diagon Alley. I hadn't been here in over a century, and yet the smell of parchment, potion fumes, and freshly baked cauldron cakes hit me like I'd never left. A new world — yet still so familiar.
Dumbledore offered me that same infuriatingly calm smile. "Shall we, Miss Potter?"
"Please," I replied, brushing the dust from my cloak. "It's Lady Potter now. Or at least, it will be in about fifteen minutes."
The marble doors of Gringotts loomed ahead, and the goblin guards eyed us sharply as we entered. Inside, the air was cool and filled with the faint hum of enchantments. The goblins didn't waste a second once Dumbledore identified himself — and when he introduced me as a Potter, their attitudes changed instantly.
"Head Potter," I corrected crisply.
That earned me a deep, approving bow from the nearest goblin. "Of course, Lady Potter. It has been… quite some time since your family last held a Lordship ring."
I smirked faintly. "Let's fix that, shall we?"
The ritual was simple but symbolic — a shallow cut on the hand, a drop of blood on the ancestral parchment, and a brief flash of golden light. The magic recognized my claim instantly. The Potter ring rose from the table, gleaming faintly, and slipped onto my finger as if it had been waiting.
A surge of warmth pulsed through me — memories, impressions, and magic intertwining. The Potter legacy accepted me.
The lead goblin grinned, showing sharp teeth. "Congratulations, Lady Potter. The title of Head of House Potter is yours once more."
Dumbledore clapped softly. "Well done. It's not every day one witnesses history repeating itself."
"Oh, I don't plan on repeating history," I said with a small smile. "I plan on rewriting it."
The next few hours were a blur of signatures, financial reports, and ancient vault ledgers. I had the goblins pull every record the Potters ever owned — businesses, patents, estates, even minor investments. Most of them were neglected or closed during the wars. It was… painful, seeing my family's name so diminished.
But I wasn't one to dwell on loss.
By the time I was done, half the goblin accounting division was working under new orders. Businesses were to reopen. Properties were to be restored. Money would flow again, not stagnate. The Potter name would mean something once more.
Then came the moment that twisted the knife.
"Potter Manor," I said, reading through one of the last reports. "Destroyed during the last wizarding war?"
Dumbledore nodded softly. "I'm afraid so. It was targeted during Voldemort's rise. The wards collapsed, and the estate was lost."
For a long moment, I said nothing. Just the quiet ticking of my mind. That was my home. The place where I grew up…
I set the parchment down. "Then we rebuild it."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but I didn't miss the glint of respect behind them. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"
I smirked. "Change? Hardly. I've just been… on pause."
That evening, as I left Gringotts with the Potter ring gleaming on my hand and the official title of Head of House Potter once again bound to my soul, I felt something stir deep within me — a quiet fire.
For the first time since awakening from that crystal, I wasn't just surviving. I was building something again.
And I wasn't going to stop until the name Potter once more ruled the magical world.