The Vault of the Forgotten
“I guess it’s time to pay a visit to Gringotts.”
The thought rolled lazily through my mind as I drifted through Diagon Alley’s cobbled streets. The flickering lanterns cast golden pools along the stone, but I kept to the edges, half-shrouded in shadows. The crowd thinned as the night settled, and soon the Alley belonged to the quiet.
I had no real urgency. Time bends easily for those like me. But Tom Riddle’s presence left a mark. Like a stone dropped into still water. A ripple I couldn’t quite ignore.
If this universe was, in fact, identical to the last, then Gringotts might hold answers. Or at least, a distraction.
The great marble façade of Gringotts loomed ahead, as untouched and imposing as I remembered. I stepped inside, gliding past the enchanted security wards that should have barred entry. They didn’t. Deaths quiet hand often bypasses such things.
The hall was sparsely populated- two goblins at the far counter , bent over scrolls muttering gobblydook in low tones. They didn’t notice me at first- no one does. Not until I approached and cleared my throat.
The nearest goblin flinched, sharp black eyes snapping upward. His quill stilled mid-sentence.
“Who are you?” He asked, brows knitting together as if I were an ink blot on his otherwise tidy paper.
“I’d like to request an inheritance test.”
There was a beat of hesitation. His gaze drifted over me- robes slightly worn, hair messier than I liked, but nothing to warrant this level of suspicion.
“Your name?”
I smiled faintly. “Harry Potter.” The name feeling foreign on my tongue, familiar yet foreign.
He blinked. His long fingers gripped the quill tighter. “That is not a name in our records.”
“Check again”
The goblin frowned but gestured for me to follow. I trailed behind him, winding through the narrow hallways until we reached a small stone chamber, sparse save for a single desk, parchment, and dagger. A faint glow traced the edges of the room.
“Cut your hand on the parchment” he instructed, rolling out a long sheet of enchanted parchment. The quill hovered beside it. Waiting.
I cut my palm, and rested it on the cool surface, watching the droplets of blood sink into the paper.
The test began immediately.
Golden lines traced faint lines across the parchment, spidering out like veins beneath my skin. I watched in silence as the information began to fill in. Lineage, name , vaults, titles.- every crack of my existence meant to be laid bare before me.
Except it wasn’t.
Name:
Sire:
Bearer:
Grandmother:
Grandfather:
Sibling(s):
Blank.
Every section remained glaringly empty. The area where my identity was supposed to be was blank. The quill trembles faintly before skittering across the lower half of the parchment.
Vaults: Peverell main vault
Peverell side vault
Lineage: Peverell lineage
That was all.
I lifted my hand slowly, fingers trailing against the edges of the scroll.
The goblin stared at the results, his sharp expression replaced with something I couldn’t quite place- unease perhaps.
“This..” He struggled for words “This is highly irregular.”
I leaned back, tapping the table absentmindedly. “Irregular is one way to put it.”
“There should be more.”
“There isn’t” I folded the parchment neatly tucking it into my robes. “I’ll hold onto this, if you don’t mind.”
The goblin opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. In the end he only nodded.
I rose from my chair and stride toward the door.
“Lord Peverell.” The goblin called after me. I paused at the threshold.
“Yes?”
He eyes me carefully. “The Peverell Vaults haven’t been opened in centuries. Not even by the family’s descendants.”
I smiled faintly, rubbing the newly acquired peverell ring on my finger, stepping out the corridor. “Well then. I suppose it’s about time someone paid a visit.”