After the train pulled into the station with a loud screech of brakes, a wave of excitement and noise filled the air. Students spilled out onto the platform, running toward waiting parents and guardians. Abraxas and I stepped off together, and as we looked around, we spotted our family waiting nearby. Tom was still with us, standing close as the others slowly drifted away, each heading toward their own families.
I turned to Tom, smiling softly, not quite ready to say goodbye."Write to me," I said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "When you plan to visit Gringotts, okay?"
He gave me a small, rare smile, the kind only I seemed to get from him. "Okay," he promised.
Without thinking too much about it, I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. For a second, everything else faded away the noise, the crowd, even Abraxas beside us. But it ended quickly when I heard a loud choking sound.
Abraxas stood there, looking completely mortified, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He shot me a what the hell look, as if I had committed some terrible crime in public. I only laughed, brushing it off, and turned back to Tom.
"Goodbye, Tom," I said, squeezing his hand one last time.
"Goodbye," he said quietly, his fingers lingering for a moment before we let go.
Turning away before I got too emotional, I followed Abraxas toward where our parents were waiting. Mother spotted me first. She rushed forward, pulling me into a tight hug, the familiar scent of home wrapping around me. "Oh, I missed you so much," she murmured against my hair.
Dad wasn't far behind, patting my back firmly and smiling. "Good to have you back, kid.Did she behave herself, Abraxas?"
Abraxas gave me another sideways glance, full of dry humor. "A little bit," he said dramatically. "Still a problem, though."
I snorted, nudging him in the ribs. "I really did my best," I said. "I didn't even manage to get you expelled or anything!"
Dad threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, we didn't have to make a 'donation' to the school just to keep you enrolled. That's progress."
Mother huffed, smoothing down my hair fussily. "Maybe we should donate, just so we could rest easier."
I rolled my eyes fondly as we gathered up my trunk and belongings and made our way home. The journey had been long and emotional, and by the time we arrived, all I wanted to do was sleep.
As soon as I stepped into the familiar comfort of my bedroom, I dropped onto the bed and let exhaustion take over. It had been such a long, tiring journey but somehow, deep inside, I knew it was only the beginning of something bigger.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through my windows, warming my skin. I woke to find an owl in my window , tied with a thin piece of red string. My heart skipped when I saw Tom's familiar, precise handwriting.
Meet me at Gringotts. Let's get it started.
I smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement. I had told him yesterday I'd wear a dark dress and an emerald green coat Quickly, I got ready, smoothing down the soft dark fabric of my dress, and pulling the fitted green coat tight around me. I glanced at the mirror wow I look perfect
Downstairs, I found Mother and Father in the living room. Mother was sipping tea and Father was buried behind his newspaper.
Mother looked up first. "Where are you off to, darling?"
Father lowered his paper slightly to glance at me, curious.
"I'm going to Diagon Alley," I said casually. "Meeting a friend Alexie."
Mother tilted her head. "Alexie Carrow?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Just need to pick something up."
She smiled warmly. "Alright, be careful, honey. Take care, okay?"
"I will," I promised.
I kissed them both on the cheek, laughing as Father pretended to grumble about the "drama" of teenagers, and then I grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
Throwing it into the fireplace, I stepped into the green flames, called out clearly, "Diagon Alley!" and felt the familiar tugging sensation as the world spun around me.
I stumbled out into the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, brushing the ash from my sleeves and looking around quickly. Diagon Alley was bustling, even at this hour. Wizards and witches hurried past, some with arms full of shopping bags, others arguing over cauldron prices or peering into windows.
And there near the entrance of Gringotts stood Tom.
He was leaning casually against one of the white marble pillars, his black coat making him look sharper, colder, compared to the bustling crowd. His dark eyes spotted me instantly, and for a second, the usual tension in his features softened.
I smiled and walked toward him. "Ready to go?" I asked.
He gave a curt nod, that small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah," he said. "Let's go."
Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his hand. He didn't pull away. Together, we pushed open the heavy doors of Gringotts, stepping inside into the grand, intimidating space.
Hand in hand, we crossed the cobblestone street and approached the grand white marble building of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The sight never failed to amaze me the towering structure, the intricate bronze doors, and of course, the goblins. They stood like sentinels at every entrance, their beady eyes sharp and calculating.
We ascended the marble steps, the clack of our shoes echoing slightly. At the door, two goblins bowed stiffly, their expressions neutral but observant. Tom led the way inside, his steps confident, his grip firm around my hand.
Inside, chandeliers glittered overhead, casting a cold, metallic light on the polished marble floors. Goblins worked diligently behind high counters, weighing gemstones, scribbling on long scrolls, and inspecting coins through magnifying glasses. Their long fingers moved with eerie precision.
As Tom and I stepped inside, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The air was cooler, sharper, and the goblins' narrow, calculating eyes followed our every move.
I squeezed Tom's hand once before letting go, whispering playfully,"Try not to look like you're planning to rob the place."
He gave me a dry glance but said nothing.
Instead of joining one of the regular queues, I tilted my head up confidently and walked straight toward the main desk the one meant for special requests. Tom followed, his long strides matching mine perfectly.
Behind the desk sat an older goblin, his skin lined like crumpled parchment, a pair of thin spectacles perched on the end of his long nose. He watched us approach with open suspicion, his long fingers steepled together.
"State your business," the goblin rasped, his voice like a knife sliding across stone.
I smiled sweetly, resting my hand lightly on the counter. "We're here to request an Inheritance Test," I said, voice light but deliberate, letting just a hint of arrogance slip through. "For him," I gestured to Tom "a matter of some... urgency."
The goblin arched a bushy eyebrow. "Name?"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Tom said coolly, his voice steady and low.
The goblin leaned back slightly, tapping a long claw against the wood. His eyes flicked to me briefly, perhaps sensing that I was the real schemer behind this little event. I gave him an innocent, almost bored look, as if this were a mere chore.
After a moment's pause, the goblin hopped down from his stool. "Follow me."
We moved deeper into the bank, past doors heavy with ancient runes, past corridors humming with enchantments so thick they buzzed in my teeth. I walked just a step behind Tom, studying everything filing it all away in my mind. Information was power, and I liked knowing things others didn't.
Finally, the goblin stopped before a thick iron door engraved with the ancient crest of Gringotts: a snarling dragon coiled around a pile of gold.
The goblin pressed his palm against a glyph on the door. It glowed briefly, and the heavy slab swung open.
Inside was a small, private chamber. No windows, just polished stone and a heavy wooden table at its center, covered in strange instruments glass vials, parchment, silver knives, and bowls made of black obsidian.
"This is where the testing is conducted," the goblin said. His voice was dry, indifferent. "You will provide a drop of blood. The magic will reveal your lineage, any inheritance rights, and properties associated with your bloodline."
Tom nodded once, face unreadable.
The goblin produced a thin, silver dagger. It shimmered faintly with runes meant to prevent contamination or magical interference. He offered it to Tom, who took it without hesitation.
I stepped closer, unable to resist. "Don't faint, darling," I teased under my breath.
Tom shot me a cool glare but said nothing. Instead, he pressed the dagger to his fingertip and sliced just deep enough to draw a bead of blood.
The goblin moved quickly, holding out a shallow silver bowl. Tom let a single drop fall into it.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then
The blood began to glow.
A blinding white light filled the room, forcing even the goblin to squint. The drop of blood expanded, swirling into misty letters and sigils in the air above the bowl.
I caught my breath, my heart pounding. It was working.
The glowing mist formed itself into words:
Lineage Identified:
House of Slytherin — Direct Descendant
House of Gaunt — Direct Descendant
Muggle Line: Tom Riddle Sr. (paternal)
Inheritance Status:
Heir of Salazar Slytherin — Confirmed
Heir of the Gaunt Family — Confirmed
I leaned in closer to Tom, my voice low and amused. "You really are full of surprises."
Tom's face was still, but his eyes oh, his eyes burned with a fierce, wild light. He could see it too: the power within his reach.
The goblin, Grimclaw, adjusted his spectacles and set a heavy ledger onto the counter. His sharp, ink-stained claws flipped expertly through its pages, stopping at a thick, worn section marked with a deep green seal.
"I have completed the verification process," he said in a gravelly voice. "Mr. Riddle, your blood confirms descent from the House of Gaunt, and through it, the lineage of Salazar Slytherin."
I smiled slyly, feeling Tom tense slightly beside me though outwardly, he remained cool and composed.
"However," Grimclaw continued, "there are matters to clarify. Your uncle, Morfin Gaunt, still lives."
I tilted my head curiously, playing the role of the charming bystander. "And where might dear Uncle Morfin be hiding?" I asked lightly, as if inquiring about a pet.
Grimclaw's lip curled. "He remains in the Gaunt ancestral shack in Little Hangleton. Records show he is... mentally unsound but alive. As long as he breathes, the Gaunt vaults — Vault 287 — remain sealed under his stewardship."
Tom's lip curled almost imperceptibly. He exhaled slowly, controlled, but I could feel the disdain radiating off him.
"I want nothing to do with the Gaunt name," he said flatly. "Let him rot."
Grimclaw nodded approvingly, almost pleased by Tom's cold dismissal.
"Very well. As you wish."
He tapped another, much older ledger with a clawed fingertip, causing a puff of dust to rise.
"Now, to more important matters. Your claim to the Slytherin Legacy is unchallenged. No descendants of Salazar Slytherin remain alive in the direct line besides yourself. Thus, Vault Thirteen the ancient vault of Slytherin himself is now open to you."
Tom's shoulders straightened slightly. Even I could feel the change in the air a thrum of magic, old and powerful.
Grimclaw's voice grew a touch more reverent as he explained:
"The Slytherin vault is among the oldest in Gringotts. It contains ancestral treasures, magical artifacts, tomes forbidden to modern wizards, priceless heirlooms, and deeds to properties once held by Salazar Slytherin across Britain and Ireland."
He paused, yellow eyes gleaming.
"Among these properties are ancient manors, hidden strongholds, extensive landholdings, and significant monetary assets enough to fund an entire army, should you so desire."
I let out a soft, admiring hum, leaning into Tom's side just slightly.
"Sounds like you hit the jackpot," I purred, my voice light, teasing.
Tom didn't smile, but his dark eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction.
"Take me there," he said.
Grimclaw bowed his head slightly. "At once, Lord Slytherin."
He pressed a hidden rune on the counter. The floor beneath us rumbled faintly, and a heavily armored goblin dressed in black and silver approached with a high-security cart.
"Vault Thirteen lies deep within the oldest sections of Gringotts," Grimclaw warned as we climbed aboard.
"Few living souls ever see its depths."
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