Chapter 16 — I Am Rich
I woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly fresh — which, given yesterday's insanity, was saying something. For the first time in months, the air around Harry didn't hum with that faint, uneasy tension I'd come to recognise. The Horcrux was gone. Completely gone. The world itself had seemed to sigh in relief when it vanished.
I washed, dressed, completed my routine and brushed my hair. I stood for a long moment by the window, watching the sunlight stretch lazily over Privet Drive.
Everything felt peaceful. Harry could finally have a proper childhood now, without the shadow of someone else's soul gnawing at him. Untill he enters Hogwarts. It seems I have to do some things from my first year in Hogwarts.
As I went downstairs, I thought about what else had happened yesterday. The Horcrux in the Hufflepuff's Cup had been destroyed, Bellatrix Lestrange's vault had become mine — and I'd somehow earned the friendship of the Goblin Nation. Not a bad day's work for a boy who hadn't even started Hogwarts. Thinking of the gold in the vault brought a wide grin on my face.
At the breakfast table, everyone seemed in good spirits. Mum had made her usual spread — eggs, toast, bacon, and tea — and the house smelled warm and homely. Dudley and Harry were already halfway through their food, bickering about who'd won their chess match last night.
"I did," Dudley said through a mouthful of toast. "You tipped over your king!"
"I was distracted!" Harry protested. "Brigid was sitting on the board."
Brigid, the cat in question, lifted her head from beside Harry's plate and blinked lazily, as if she knew full well she was being blamed.
Mum sighed fondly. "Boys, eat before it all goes cold."
Dad chuckled, lowering his newspaper. "Let them be, Pet. It's good to hear laughter in this house."
I smiled quietly into my tea. He was right — the house did sound lighter. The tension that used to hang over us had gone, like smoke cleared from a room.
When breakfast was nearly over, I cleared my throat. "Mum, Dad — I'm going to pop over to Diagon Alley again today. I need to check on the vault and sort out some paperwork with Ragnok."
Mum's fork clattered slightly against her plate. "Arthur, do you really have to go alone?"
"I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "Yesterday went perfectly, didn't it? Besides, I've finished primary school — I can handle myself."
Dad frowned, the sort of frown that meant he wanted to say no but couldn't find a good reason to. "If you're sure, son. Just… be careful. I don't trust all that wizard business."
"I know, Dad," I said, smiling. "I'll be careful."
Mum sighed but nodded. "All right. Just come back before dinner."
"I will."
After breakfast, I gathered my coin pouch, slipped on my jacket, and made my way toward the Leaky Cauldron.
It was nearly noon when I arrived. The pub was quiet — just a few old wizards murmuring over their butterbeer. The faint smell of oak polish and smoke filled the room.
Tom, the barkeep, looked up from wiping a glass. "Mornin', lad. You're on your own today?"
"Good Morning Sir," I said politely. "Yes, Professor Snape asked me to pick up some items for him."
At the mention of Snape's name, Tom's expression shifted immediately from curiosity to mild sympathy. "Poor bloke. Always overworked, that one. Well, best not keep him waiting." He led me out to the courtyard and tapped the brick wall in the familiar pattern.
The archway to Diagon Alley unfolded before us, sunlight spilling through the gap. I thanked Tom and stepped through.
Diagon Alley was bustling — cauldrons clanging, owls hooting, and shopkeepers calling out their latest wares. I made straight for Gringotts, the white marble building gleaming at the far end of the street like a beacon of wealth and danger.
The goblin guards at the doors gave me a sharp, appraising look — and then, to my surprise, dipped their heads slightly in greeting.
I nodded back. "Good morning."
Their thin lips twitched upward — the closest thing goblins have to smiles. Apparently, "Friend of the Goblin Nation" wasn't just a ceremonial title.
Inside, I went straight to one of the tellers. "Good day. Could you please inform Ragnok that Arthur Dursley is here to see him?"
The teller's sharp eyes flicked up. Recognition flashed across his face, and he nodded briskly. "Of course, Mr. Dursley. Please follow the attendant."
A goblin led me through a side door into one of the private meeting rooms. Ragnok appeared a few minutes later, his usual polished armour gleaming faintly.
"Arthur," he said with a toothy grin, "you return sooner than I expected."
"Good morning, Ragnok," I said, standing to shake his hand — or, rather, clasp his forearm, the goblin way. "I thought it was time to see what's inside my vault."
His grin widened. "Ah, yes. A great deal and equally great earnings. The spoils of Bellatrix Lestrange. A fascinating collection, I assure you. Come."
And so began another heart-stopping cart ride through the Gringotts tunnels. I clung to the side again, though perhaps a bit less desperately than yesterday. The wind whipped against my face, and the deeper we went, the colder the air grew.
When we finally stopped, the cart screeched to a halt beside an enormous iron door marked Vault 687.
Ragnok turned to me. "Your key, please."
I handed it over, and he inserted it into the lock. Ancient runes glowed blue for a moment before the door swung open with a low, echoing groan.
What lay beyond took my breath away. I had only one thought in my mind, "I am Rich. I AM FU**ING RICH."
Mountains of gold and silver coins shimmered in the torchlight, piled so high they nearly reached the ceiling. Jewelled goblets, ornate daggers, shields, and crowns were scattered across the floor like carelessly dropped treasure. But what caught my eye most wasn't the wealth — it was the shelves along the back wall, stacked neatly with books.
I stepped forward slowly, awe giving way to curiosity. The titles gleamed in gold lettering. Many were in Latin, some in runes. "Dark Arts Compendium, Vol. VII." "The Ancestry of the Sacred Twenty-Eight." "On the Binding of Wards and Wills." They were great collection but none that I could use now.
And then one caught my eye — The Mind's Fortress: An Introduction to Occlumency and Legilimency.
Now that was useful.
I pulled it carefully from the shelf, brushing off a thin layer of dust. "I'll take this," I said, glancing toward Ragnok, who was standing guard at the door.
He nodded. "As vault owner, you may take what you wish. Just avoid handling cursed objects until our curse breakers confirm them safe."
"Noted," I said, smiling faintly.
It was a strange feeling, standing in that vault. This had once belonged to the ancient magical family. But now, that legacy was mine. It really showed the depths of the wealth of an Ancient Pure blood family.
After taking one last look around, I stepped out. Ragnok locked the vault again, and we climbed back into the cart for the long ride up.
Back in the meeting chamber, he spread several parchments across the table. "Now," he said briskly, "let us discuss the assets tied to this vault."
He pointed to a long list. "In addition to gold — roughly fifty million Galleons' worth — the Lestrange vault includes several properties: three estates in Britain, two in France, two in Germany, and holdings in Norway, Spain, and Italy. There are also multiple shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade and other countries' settlements."
I blinked. "That's… a lot."
Ragnok grinned, showing sharp teeth. "Indeed. The Lestrange family were both rich and clever. Much of their wealth is well hidden."
"I think I'll leave everything as it is for now," I said after a moment. "Until I know more about the magical world, I don't want to ruffle any feather. Just — re-do all the wards in every property. Make them respond only to my magical signature or those I approve."
Ragnok's eyes gleamed. "A wise request. We will see it done. The cost will be deducted from your treasury."
"Take whatever you need," I said. "Also… could you tally and catalogue all items in the vault? I'd like to know exactly what's in there."
He inclined his head. "Of course. Gringotts will give a blood oath guaranteeing that no item will be removed or used without your consent."
"That's fair," I said. "Let's do that."
Ragnok pricked his finger with a silver dagger and pressed it to the parchment. The runes flared briefly, then dimmed. "By blood and by honour, Gringotts stands bound."
The oath shimmered faintly in the air before vanishing.
As we finished the paperwork, he leaned back, studying me. "You are clever, Arthur Dursley. Few remember to consider the finer details. Usually we take anything that belongs to the Goblins without any notice. Even fewee wizards speak to us as equals. Most treat us with disdain. It is… refreshing."
I smiled faintly. "I've read enough history to know that humans aren't the only intelligent beings around. Goblins, centaurs, even house-elves — they all deserve respect."
Ragnok's grin widened. "You will do great things, young one. Mother Magic favours those who see truth."
Before leaving, I asked, "Is it possible to get a magical purse linked to the vault? Something I can draw from without visiting every time?"
He reached under the desk and produced a small, deep green pouch. "This will draw up to five thousand Galleons a day directly from your vault. Use it wisely."
I thanked him sincerely. After all the formalities were done, I realised nearly three hours had passed. Time moved strangely underground.
When I stepped out into the sunlight again, Diagon Alley felt different — brighter, more alive. The weight of the vault key in my pocket was oddly comforting.
By the time I got home, Mum was waiting at the door, arms crossed. "You're late."
"Only by half an hour," I said quickly. "Everything's fine, I promise."
Dad peeked out from behind her, relief flickering across his face. "Good. I was starting to think those goblins had eaten you."
"Not this time," I said with a grin. "They're quite polite when you get to know them."
Mum sighed but smiled. "Come on, dinner's ready."
That evening, as everyone settled down, I pulled out The Mind's Fortress and flipped it open. The text was dense, full of diagrams and rune sequences describing how to build barriers in one's mind. I understood only bits of it, but it was enough to fascinate me.
Harry peeked over my shoulder. "What's that?"
"A book about Occlumency," I said. "Mind magic. Keeps people from reading your thoughts."
He blinked. "Can you teach me?"
"Eventually," I said with a grin. "First, we've got to learn how to hold a wand properly."
He laughed, and I joined him. The sound of it filled the room — light and human and real.
For the first time, I realised something simple: I wasn't just lucky. I was rich — not just in gold, but in family, in purpose, in the strange, beautiful magic that bound us all together.
End of Chapter 16 — I Am Rich