Harry and Hagrid walked together to the far end of Diagon Alley, where a strange, gleaming white building stood in stark contrast to its crooked surroundings.
The entire structure was carved from white marble, its clean, sharp lines making it look more like something from a superhero's base than a wizard's shopping street.
Hagrid pointed at it. "That's Gringotts, Harry. Wizarding bank. Safest place there is. Well, except maybe Hogwarts."
They climbed the marble steps and passed through a set of heavy bronze doors. Beyond those, another door awaited them—this one silver, polished to a mirror shine. Carved into its surface were the following words:
Enter, stranger, but take heed,
Of what awaits the sin of greed.
For those who take but never earn,
Must pay most dearly in return.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Like I said," Hagrid muttered, giving the door a wary glance, "you'd have to be off your rocker to rob this place. It's packed with enchantments. Even Dumbledore would think twice before messing with it."
Once inside, two goblins in crimson uniforms bowed slightly and escorted them into an enormous marble hall.
Hagrid, who'd been rambling a bit, suddenly noticed Harry's calm expression. He expected wide-eyed wonder, maybe even a squeak of excitement. But Harry looked... bored.
"Aren't yeh curious?" Hagrid asked, puzzled. "I mean, goblins? Surely you've never seen any of them before?"
Harry blinked, then gave a sheepish laugh. "Oh, I am curious. Just not... show-it-on-my-face curious."
In truth, he wasn't curious at all.
He had once been taken to a place called the Nexus by the Sorcerer Supreme himself, a cosmic hub where mystics from different dimensions traded artifacts, relics, and occasionally insults. Compared to that place, where dragons brokered contracts and shadows whispered secrets—Gringotts was little more than a fancy vault with paranoid security.
They arrived at a counter, where Hagrid addressed a free goblin.
"We need to withdraw from Mr. Harry Potter's vault."
"Do you have the key, sir?"
"Course I do." Hagrid fished it out and handed it over.
The goblin examined it under a magnifying glass, nodded, and seemed about to lead them away when Hagrid suddenly produced a sealed envelope.
"I've also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore. It concerns… that item in Vault 713."
From the way Hagrid lowered his voice and tightened his grip on the letter, Harry could tell it was something important. Probably a powerful magical item.
Not that he cared.
After holding the Time Stone in his hands and watching timelines spiral like ribbons in a windstorm, it was hard to be impressed by secret vault objects.
The goblin read the letter carefully, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. One moment. Griphook!"
A goblin named Griphook appeared at their side and bowed slightly. "If you would follow me, gentlemen."
Griphook led them through a side door and into a narrow stone tunnel. At the center sat a rickety-looking cart on metal rails.
The ride was fast, wild, and filled with hairpin turns. Cold wind whipped past them like a thousand tiny knives, but Harry barely noticed. His magically fortified body welcomed the chill like an old friend.
Eventually, the cart screeched to a halt in front of a small iron door.
"Vault 687," Griphook said in his high, clipped voice. "This way, please."
Taking the key from Hagrid, he unlocked the vault.
The door swung open, and a blinding golden glow filled the space. Even Harry had to pause. Inside were heaps of gold Galleons, shimmering silver Sickles, and towers of bronze Knuts.
He didn't need to understand the exchange rate to know one thing: this was a fortune.
Hagrid chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Surprised, eh? You didn't think your mum and dad left you with nothing, did you? Look here, gold coins are Galleons, silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. You're richer than half the old wizarding families now!"
Harry blinked. "So… do I get a vault passcode or just keep dragging you around?"
"Just take enough for two terms," Hagrid grinned. "Leave the rest. Gringotts'll keep it safe. Now then, time to head to Vault 713. Griphook, do us a favor and slow down a bit on the way, would you? That wind is awful."
Griphook gave a bland smile. "Speed is not optional, sir."
Back in the cart, rocketing down even deeper into the earth, Harry fell silent.
His parents had left him all this. A legacy. A reminder that, once, he was loved. His mother was described as kind and brilliant, gentle and wise. His father had been brave and daring. They had died for him.
If they hadn't been murdered, maybe he'd have grown up with bedtime stories and birthdays instead of a cupboard and chores.
The thought made his chest tighten.
Magic flickered faintly in his eyes, a pulse of red that vanished as quickly as it came. His hands clenched into fists.
"Hagrid," he said quietly, "who killed my parents?"
Hagrid stiffened. His beard seemed to bristle. "It was… the Dark Wizard. The one everyone calls the 'Man Who Must Not Be Named.'"
Harry frowned. "That's not a name. That's a title."
Hagrid sighed, lowering his voice. "In the wizarding world, most folks believe his real name's cursed. Say it out loud, and he might hear you. That's why we just call him… the Dark One. Or the Mysterious Man."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Magically cursed names? Huh. The Book of the Vishanti had a section on that. Pretty sure there's a counterspell or two."
Seeing how shaken Hagrid was, Harry chose not to press further.
If this "Mysterious Man" was so feared that people avoided even his name, then the information about him must be scattered far and wide. He could research it himself later.
One thing was certain: whoever this monster was, he would pay.
Even if Harry had to climb through fire, tear through shadows, and break the laws of magic themselves, he would bring him down.