Chapter 5: Money
Heather walked up the grand steps of Gringotts, her eyes fixed on the towering entrance to the wizarding bank. She'd heard rumors that goblins were real and that they actually owned and ran this place. As if to prove that point, two short beings in full plate armor stood guard on either side of the massive doors. Their beady eyes tracked her every step as she approached, making her feel oddly self-conscious.
"May I go inside?" Heather asked, her tone polite but firm.
"Of course… my lady," one of the goblins said, his voice catching slightly as he glanced at her.
Heather raised an eyebrow. There it was again—that weird reaction. She'd noticed it back in Tom's pub and even from the people in Diagon Alley. Everyone had been staring at her, unable to look away. Was it because of her worn, ratty clothes? She suddenly wished she'd swiped something nicer before coming here. What kind of future goddess looked like a street urchin?
'Technically, I am a street urchin,' she reminded herself with a sigh. But still, she didn't have to look like it.
Taking a deep breath, Heather marched through the doors into the bank. Inside, she found a large hall filled with people and goblins alike, all moving about or standing in lines. As soon as she stepped inside, however, the entire room went silent. Every person, every goblin seemed to stiffen, their gazes snapping toward her as if she'd just done something shocking.
This time, she could actually hear them whispering, words like "impossible" and "archmage" floating through the air. She had no idea what any of that meant, and frankly, she was getting tired of all the staring.
She made her way toward the counter, intending to line up behind a group of wizards. But as soon as she approached, they all scrambled out of her way, clearing a path like she was royalty. She blinked, caught off guard, then gave them an awkward, "Um, thanks," before stepping forward to the counter.
The goblin behind the desk eyed her warily and gulped as she stopped in front of him. He looked like he was trying to keep his composure. "Can I help you, my lady?" he asked, his voice oddly polite for someone she assumed would be blunt.
Heather straightened, clearing her throat. "My name is Heather Potter, and I want to know if my family has any vaults in your bank."
The entire lobby seemed to be holding its breath. More whispers erupted from the nearby witches and wizards, their voices laced with surprise and confusion. She heard bits and pieces, things like "Potter family" and "supposed to be extinct" and "assets seized." Heather's fists clenched at her sides, her patience wearing thin. She had come here to find answers, and if anyone had taken what was hers, she wouldn't just be angry—she'd be furious.
Almost immediately, the floor and walls began to shake, a low rumble vibrating through the bank. Startled gasps came from the people around her as they backed away, a few of them even bolting for the exit. Heather had no idea what was happening, but she could feel the energy buzzing around her, the strange sense of power spilling out, and she forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to keep it under control.
"P–please, my lady," the goblin said in a shaky voice. "Your magical aura is causing a disturbance."
"It is?" Heather asked, genuinely surprised.
The goblin gave her a cautious nod, clearly relieved when the rattling stopped. He then composed himself and looked her in the eye. "The Potter family did indeed have vaults here, and your family's account manager, Gringotts's senior goblin Grognak, is still in service. I will lead you to his office."
Heather sat in Grognak's office, her eyes taking in the heavy wooden desk, the shelves lined with ancient ledgers, and the golden lamps that cast a warm glow over everything. The goblin himself was seated behind the desk, his eyes sharp and calculating. He was older than the others she'd seen, with a thin scar running across his cheek and a worn suit that looked out of place against the wealth around him.
"Congratulations, Miss Potter, on becoming the youngest archmage in history," Grognak said. His voice held an edge of curiosity. "I must admit, we goblins are quite interested in how you managed such a feat."
Heather's brow furrowed as she took in his words. An archmage? She knew she was a Golden Core cultivator, but maybe that was what her power level equaled in the magical world. It would explain why people had been so nervous around her. Could they all sense it?
Grognak didn't wait for her to respond. He stood up, muttering something about time being money, and walked over to a large drawer built into the wall. He pulled out a stack of old, dusty folders and set them down on the desk with a thud.
"Unfortunately, Miss Potter, you're probably not going to be pleased with the state of your family's finances," Grognak said, flipping open the top folder and skimming through it with quick, practiced movements. "Since the Ministry of Magic believed the Potter family to be deceased, most of your assets were seized by them."
Heather's eyes narrowed as the floor began to tremble. The rattling grew louder, shaking the desk and the piles of paper on it. Grognak's eyes widened, and he raised a hand, palms out as if to calm her. "Please, my lady, control your magical aura!"
Heather clenched her fists and took a deep breath, forcing herself to rein in the energy boiling inside her. The shaking stopped, and silence settled over the room.
"Not all hope is lost," Grognak said quickly, his voice more cautious now. "We can work to reclaim what is yours, but it will not be easy."
"It better not be," Heather muttered, crossing her arms. She was done with wicked adults taking advantage of her or hurting her. She wasn't weak anymore. If the Ministry thought they could steal the money her parents left her, they were wrong. She would march right into their precious offices and take it back herself if she had to.
Grognak's eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, he looked at her with something other than wary respect. He almost looked impressed. "That would indeed be a sight to behold," he said. "A glorious battle, no doubt. But do not underestimate the Ministry, Miss Potter. Wizards and witches are far craftier than they let on…"
Heather took Grognak's words to heart, nodding thoughtfully. He was right. She had power now, but no real training or experience. Against a single wizard, she was confident she could hold her own, but against multiple enemies? She didn't know enough about magic's full potential yet, but her instincts told her to be cautious.
She leaned forward, curiosity in her eyes. "What can we do to fix my financial situation?" she asked, her voice steady but eager.
Grognak's face split into a wicked grin, his sharp teeth glinting. "There are ways to recover a considerable amount of wealth, Miss Potter," he explained. "The laws of our magical world are ancient, and many wizards don't know or care to follow them anymore. Many dark families sided with Lord Voldemort, you see, and officially declared war on House Potter, which is a successor to the ancient House of Peverell."
Heather blinked, absorbing this. "What does that mean for me?"
Grognak's grin grew. "In the magical world, when ancient houses go to war, the losing side must pay reparations to the victor. While you may not have personally defeated Voldemort—that honor goes to the so-called 'Boy Who Lived'—House Potter still emerged victorious because you survived. You and your family were allied with House Longbottom, which fought against the Death Eaters. By surviving, you technically won the war... in a sense."
Heather wrinkled her nose. "This all sounds kind of convoluted," she admitted. "How does this actually get me any money?"
Grognak chuckled. "Patience, Miss Potter," he said, not unkindly. Heather huffed and crossed her arms, pouting as she waited for him to continue.
"While it is convoluted, these customs are still laws, and nobody has officially done away with them. And you're an archmage…" Grognak continued, his grin sly. "With your power, we can make these laws work to your advantage. I can extract war reparations from the vaults of every family that officially went to war with House Potter."
As Grognak started gathering some paperwork, Heather made a mental note to find out more about her family's past. Aunt Petunia had always told her her parents died in a car crash, but that was obviously a lie. With all this talk of war, ancient houses, and Voldemort, she knew there was a lot she hadn't been told. Grognak had even mentioned Voldemort's name—the same dark wizard who had tried to possess her body and failed when Shen Yue ate him...
Heather left Gringotts about an hour later, a satisfied smile on her face. Grognak had worked wonders, managing to extract 10 percent of the wealth from the vaults of every family that had declared war against the Potters. It turned out there were quite a lot of them, and many were incredibly rich. The biggest payoffs came from the vaults of the Black, Malfoy, and Lestrange families. Heather now had around 10 million galleons sitting in her vault.
When she asked Grognak how much that was in British pounds, he told her the current exchange rate was 20 to 1. Heather did a quick calculation in her head and almost choked. That meant she had the equivalent of 200 million pounds. 'Holy shit!' she thought. Just a few hours ago, she'd been a broke street urchin scraping by on stolen food, and now she was one of the wealthiest people in the entire country.
Grognak, the shrewd businessgoblin, had gone on to tell her that she could easily grow her wealth by investing in magical or even Muggle businesses. Heather had nodded but decided she would wait a few days before making any decisions like that. She knew next to nothing about the magical world, and the Muggle world wasn't much clearer to her, either. She needed time to understand what she was dealing with.
"I'll owl you some recommendations in the coming days," Grognak had said, his eyes gleaming. "But for now, go enjoy yourself, Miss Potter. Spend some of that hard-earned money." He had cackled then, a sound that was both unsettling and oddly infectious. It made sense, with his 3 percent commission on her recovered wealth, Grognak was probably as happy as she was.
Of course, there were a few problems that would need to be resolved at a later date. Heathers mother had apparently kept a list in Gringotts of valuable heirlooms that had been lent out to the Potter family's allies during the war. Heather would need to send messages to those allies asking those objects be returned to her. But she didn't think that would be that big of a deal.
Heather stepped out of the cool, dim interior of Gringotts into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley. She glanced down at her ragged clothes and realized the first thing she needed was a wardrobe that actually matched her new status as a rich girl!