Even though Harry had only ridden the Gringotts cart twice before, this time felt wildly different. The cart was blazing fast, streaking through the dark, enchanted tunnels like a bullet of steel and magic. Archivist Flametail sat calmly beside him, barely blinking as they darted through sharp twists, sudden drops, and narrow turns that made Harry's stomach flip.
The air grew colder and thinner the deeper they descended, and at one point, Harry caught sight of a massive white dragon, chained to a distant stone platform, its eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
Flametail noticed his gaze.
"The strongest vaults," he said with a rare trace of reverence, "are guarded by dragons. The deeper you go, the older and more dangerous the magic becomes."
Eventually, the cart screeched to a halt.
Before them stood Vault 22.
The door was forged of solid black metal, towering three times Harry's height. Its surface was engraved with grim reapers carved in silver, and around the frame shimmered ancient runes—wards pulsing faintly with a sickly green hue. The air around it crackled with necrotic energy, thick with warnings.
Flametail remained in the cart, unusually still. "Place your hand on the door. If you're accepted… it will open."
Harry hesitated. His heart beat faster. What if the vault rejected him? What if the Blackfyre magic lashed out?
But there was no turning back now.
He stepped forward and pressed his hand against the cold metal.
Nothing happened.
Then—a deep rumble. The door creaked and groaned like a slumbering titan. Slowly, with an almost offended hiss, Vault 22 opened.
The goblin stayed behind, clearly too afraid to cross the threshold. He merely nodded at Harry to proceed.
Harry stepped inside… and froze.
His mouth hung open.
It wasn't just wealth. It was legendary opulence.
There were mountains of gold Galleons, stacked high like dunes of precious metal. Bars of gold and silver were lined in rows. Ancient silverware and enchanted kitchen tools glimmered beside paintings in preservation stasis, scrolls, and books bound in dragonhide.
Against one wall, armors and weapons—many still holding traces of dark enchantments—lined a massive rack. Magical creature hides—manticores, dragons, chimaeras—hung preserved, their pelts shimmering with residual aura.
Harry blinked and activated his Observe ability.
[Observe Activated]
[Item Count: 934 magical artifacts, 400+ books & scrolls, 87 unique weapon types, 13 enchanted armor, 6 legendary items detected...]
[Gold Value (Unconverted): Estimated 4.6 Million Galleons]
"Bloody hell…"
But among all this, one thing caught his eye.
At the center of a pedestal, resting in a case of obsidian and black velvet, was a black-gold ring, inscribed with a serpent swallowing its tail—the House Blackfyre sigil.
Harry opened the case and slid the ring onto his finger.
It shrank and reshaped to fit perfectly. The moment it touched his skin, a cool sensation shot up his arm.
[You have been recognized as the Lord of House Blackfyre]
[New Title Unlocked: Lord Blackfyre]
[All familial protections and vault permissions granted]
[Dark Legacy Unsealed – Side Quest Available]
Harry stood still for a moment, absorbing the implications.
Then, with a deep breath, he opened a dimensional rift to his Personal Dimension. One by one, he transported nearly everything—books, artifacts, weapons, armor, scrolls—into the pocket dimension, where time moved slower and he could study each piece without disturbance.
He only left the Galleons behind, neatly arranged. Enough to maintain the illusion that the vault was still being used traditionally.
He stepped back out of the vault, where Flametail was still waiting in silence.
"Done?" the goblin asked quietly, eyeing the now sparse vault interior.
Harry nodded. "Just taking what's mine."
Harry stepped out of Gringotts into the bustling brightness of Diagon Alley, the contrast between the deathly silent Blackfyre vault and the lively magical street making him blink. The weight of the Lordship ring of House Blackfyre on his finger still felt surreal, humming faintly with magic. He glanced at his wand holstered inside his sleeve — it was beautifully made, goblin-crafted, yet… utterly unfamiliar, he took it from the vault 22. He had power now, titles, wealth, and items beyond imagination, but still didn't know a single spell beyond the instincts and system abilities he'd used in combat.
That was something he planned to change today.
Harry walked briskly toward Flourish and Blotts, the largest bookstore in Diagon Alley. A bell chimed as he entered, shelves towering on all sides, filled with tomes on every branch of magic. The musty scent of parchment and ink instantly brought a strange sense of calm. Behind the counter sat a thin wizard with silver spectacles and a quill tucked behind his ear, reading through an order form.
"I'd like to buy all five volumes of The Standard Book of Spells, years one to five," Harry said, placing a pouch of galleons on the counter.
The wizard looked up, blinking at the boy with curious eyes. "That's an odd request," he muttered, running his gaze over Harry's black wizard cloak and slightly floating trunk at his side. "Most Hogwarts students get them one year at a time…"
"I like to prepare in advance," Harry replied simply, his expression unreadable.
The shopkeeper shrugged. "Can't fault you for that. You're not the first. Got a cousin who did that. Turned out to be a curse-breaker." He collected the requested books from a shelf behind him and handed them over. "Here you go, lad. You'll find the incantations, wand movements, and theory all explained in proper detail."
Harry gave a polite nod, packed the books into one of the expanded compartments of his trunk, and left without another word.
Next, Harry made his way to a specialist luggage shop tucked between Eeylops Owl Emporium and Scribbulus Writing Instruments. The window display proudly advertised:
"Multi-Compartment Enchanted Trunks – For Witches, Wizards & Wandering Adventurers!"
Inside, he found a balding wizard in green robes measuring the hinges of a floating trunk with a wand. "Welcome, young man!" the shopkeeper greeted. "Looking for a trunk upgrade?"
Harry nodded. "I'd like to buy two seven-compartment trunks. High security, enchanted locks, anti-theft runes, and untraceable interior charms."
The shopkeeper raised an impressed brow. "Very specific. Got the gold to match that request?"
Harry opened the side of his trunk and drew a small pouch. "I believe so."
Within minutes, two exquisite, obsidian-black trunks with rune-engraved clasps were presented. Each had seven compartments: a bookcase, potions lab, artifact storage, wardrobe, spare room, magical creature space, and a general-purpose vault.
Harry transferred the books he just bought into the bookcase compartment of one trunk, while the second he intended to use for storing and categorizing all the magical artifacts, armors, and tomes he had collected from the Blackfyre Vault. Though his personal dimension could store everything without limit, Harry had grown fond of organizing his collection — this way, he could browse and experiment more naturally. Besides, no one else could access the trunks without his permission.
As he walked back through Diagon Alley, Harry watched the crowd with distant eyes. Children pulled their parents toward broom shops. Children were crowding outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, pointing at the new broomstick model. A pair of witches argued over wand core compatibility near Ollivanders. Yet Harry remained an observer in all of this, carrying ancient rings, vault keys to dead houses, and a power growing every day.
But now, with proper spellbooks and wand technique guides, he planned to finally learn the magic that every witch and wizard took for granted. He was already a master of the dark arts… but soon he would become a master of the wand as well.
He adjusted the strap on his trunk and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, preparing to return to Knockturn Alley. As he passed by the outer edges of the crowd, unnoticed and cloaked in shadow, Harry Potter — Lord Blackfyre, the Silent Butcher — slipped into the flow of the magical world he would one day surpass.
That night, after returning to his Potter residence, Harry sat cross-legged in the corner of the living room, where he often meditated and practiced his skills. The system notification still hovered silently before him, pulsing gently with silvery light.
[Class Advancement Available]
You have unlocked the unique class: [Shapeshifter]
Warning: This will replace your current active class [Necromancer]
Passive skills and previously learned abilities will remain
Would you like to proceed?
→ [Yes] [No]
Harry didn't hesitate. He pressed [Yes].
[Class Change Complete]
You are now a [Shapeshifter – Lv. 1]
You may now fully shift into 1 animal form: [Wolf]
You gain access to basic metamorphmagus abilities
Next form unlocked at Level 2: [Eagle]
[New Skill Gained: Skinchanger: Wolf – Lv. 1]
Description: Assume the form of a wolf. Duration unlimited. Requires 20 MP to transform, 1 MP per minute to maintain.
Harry stood up, breathing in deeply. His fingers tingled with magic, wild and different from the cold precision of necromancy. This was instinctive, primal — like blood howling beneath the skin. He activated the new skill.
[Skinchanger: Wolf] – Activated]
Bones snapped and reformed. Muscles shifted. Harry dropped to all fours as his vision sharpened and colors dulled to a new spectrum. His sense of smell exploded, picking up the faint trail of ink from the books downstairs, the traces of potion herbs in the study, even the metallic scent of coins locked behind reinforced doors.
He looked down at his paws — thick, black fur, muscular legs, and sharp claws. He could feel the night air humming through his new body.
A low growl of satisfaction rumbled from his throat.
For the first time in a long while, Harry didn't feel like a predator out of place. He was the predator. And he liked it.
He padded around the room, testing the movement. Silent. Graceful. Deadly.
Harry sat cross-legged on the stone floor of his room, a silver quill gliding across parchment as he cataloged the last of the Blackfyre vault items. Crates of shimmering cloaks, rusted but magical blades, and preserved organs of long-dead beasts surrounded him like relics of forgotten wars.
He activated his [Inventory Management] screen with a thought.
[Selected for Combat Loadout]
Enchanted Armor of Withering Shadow
Twin Dagger Set: Silence and Sting
Sword of Whispered Flame
Blackfyre Signet Ring (Passive Bonus: +2 INT, +15% Damage)
The rest, he neatly packed into his seven-compartment trunks, each charmed with defensive runes and magical seals. One trunk was designated Sale Only – Dungeon Drops, filled with goblin-forged scrap weapons, mutated beast claws, and cursed trinkets that Harry had no use for. All of it was intended for Sam's underground network of collectors and dealers.
"Sam helped me when no one else would."
"He deserves to profit too."
Harry left the Blackfyre treasures untouched. He didn't need the money — not yet. Not when there was so much to learn.
The Standard Book of Spells: Years 1–5 lay open across a conjured desk in the center of the Lycan's Refuge. When Harry asked Sam for the key, his friend tossed it to him with a grin and said:
"Don't blow up the forest projection. Last time it blew up, we needed three enchanters to fix it."
The Refuge was stunning. Despite being nestled in the heart of Knockturn Alley, its enchanted ceiling mimicked an open sky — clouds rolled lazily above, and illusionary trees shimmered with fae-glow. Without the sounds of howls or scraping claws, the vast room felt… peaceful.
Harry took his place at the center and pulled his wand from his belt.
"Right. Page one."
"Lumos."
The tip of the wand glowed, steady and bright.
[Lumos – Spell Level 2 → 3]
[Wand Affinity +1]
"Nox."
The glow vanished.
"Leviosa."
The feather hovered.
"Aguamenti."
A stream of clear water burst from the tip.
Hours passed, and so did spells.
[Spells Unlocked]
Expelliarmus – Lv. 1
Protego – Lv. 1
Stupefy – Lv. 1
Aguamenti – Lv. 1 → 2
Incendio – Lv. 1
His Observe skill gave feedback on his posture, wrist motion, and even tone of voice. Mistakes were corrected instantly.
He didn't just cast spells — he studied them. Felt the magic patterns, the intent that gave them shape. The necromancer in him recognized the similarities between soul-binding rituals and spell-weaving: every spell was a dance between thought, purpose, and emotion.
[New Passive Skill: Wand Lore – Beginner]
Understanding of wand behavior and response to magical energy. Increases wand-based spellcasting speed by 5%.
Between sessions, Harry switched to Shapeshifter again. His wolf form had grown more comfortable — his muscles responded instinctively, and his hearing was sharper than any spell could enhance.
He practiced transforming in and out of wolf form mid-sprint through the enchanted woods. Each transition grew smoother.
Soon, he could see his future forms on the Skill Tree:
But until then, the wolf would do.
Harry let out a soft growl and raced through the moonlit forest illusion of the Refuge, body low, eyes sharp.
A single thought whispered through his mind.
"This… this is the kind of power that can't be taken."
"Only earned."