Letter

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After dropping his trunk in his room, he made his way downstairs, where Petunia was already setting the table. The kitchen smelled faintly of roast, a simple but familiar meal waiting for him. 

He looked at Petunia with a small smile. "Didn't know you liked brunches."

She smiled back, setting the table. "Well, I know they feed you at Hogwarts, but I thought you might be hungry. You've had a long trip."

Harry sat down, glancing at the spread on the table. There was a decent variety—toast, eggs, sausages, and even a small fruit bowl in the middle. Nothing too fancy, but certainly more effort than usual.

"Thanks," he said simply, reaching for some toast. "It looks good."

Petunia poured Harry a glass of juice and sat down across from him, her fork spearing a piece of egg. "So, who's coming to Yule?" she asked, cutting into her food. "Your friends must be excited."

Harry nodded, taking a bite of toast before responding. "Yeah, pretty much everyone who was at the birthday party. Families, too. It's going to be a full house." He gestured towards the plate. "This is good, by the way."

Petunia hummed, clearly pleased with his compliment but not dwelling on it. "I imagine it'll be quite the gathering then."

The next day, the two of them decided to head out for some shopping, something they hadn't done in a while. Harry, having spent most of his time at Hogwarts, enjoyed the break. They hit a few familiar Muggle stores first, grabbing things Petunia had on her list.

After wrapping up their Muggle errands, Harry and Petunia made their way toward Diagon Alley. The familiar bustling atmosphere of wizards and witches preparing for the holiday season was as vibrant as ever. Stalls were filled with magical trinkets, enchanted ornaments, and all manner of oddities for sale. Harry's eyes scanned the crowd, feeling the pulse of the magical world around him but more so, he was eager to get to Gringotts.

Once they arrived at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Harry and Petunia settled down at a table by the window. Petunia was flipping through her shopping list, not looking particularly hurried but focused on what they needed. Harry, on the other hand, had his mind elsewhere. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table as he scanned the menu, though he wasn't thinking about ice cream.

When the waiter came by, Petunia ordered something light—a strawberry sundae—while Harry chose a basic scoop of chocolate. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, watching people walk by outside.

Harry broke the silence first. "Aunt Petunia, I need to head to Gringotts," he said, keeping his tone casual. "I've got to talk to Grimbletack."

Petunia didn't ask too many questions—she had gotten used to Harry's dealings with the magical world. "Go on, then," she said, waving him off lightly. "I'll wait here and finish my ice cream."

Harry stood up and made his way toward Gringotts. The imposing white marble bank stood at the end of Diagon Alley, its doors gleaming as goblins shuffled in and out. Once inside, Harry approached one of the goblins at the front desk, asking for Grimbletack.

Moments later, Harry was led into one of the private rooms at Gringotts, where Grimbletack was already seated behind a large desk. The goblin looked up as Harry entered, his sharp eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Is this about the Yule? Our preparations are progressing as planned. Security measures are being handled with the utmost care, I assure you," Grimbletack said, leaning forward slightly.

Harry shook his head and pulled the small key he had found in the Chamber of Secrets from his pocket, placing it on the desk between them. "Do you remember my inheritance, Grimbletack?"

The goblin's gaze shifted to the key, his thin lips curling slightly. "Of course, Harry James Potter—Heir of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, from your father's side. Heir of Slytherin, through your mother's bloodline." Grimbletack paused, eyeing the key thoughtfully. "To access the Slytherin vault, there was a pre-condition, which it seems you've just met. And you are also the Heir of the Peverell Vault, though there are additional conditions there. I assume this is about the Slytherin Vault, yes?"

Harry gave a curt nod. "That's right. Lead the way, Grimbletack."

Without another word, Grimbletack stood and gestured for Harry to follow. They moved quickly through Gringotts, winding through torch-lit halls that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Harry had been down to the lower vaults before, but this route was unfamiliar—deeper, quieter. Eventually, they reached a door reinforced with thick metal bars, each one carved with serpentine designs. The serpents coiled around each other, their fanged mouths open, as if ready to strike.

Grimbletack pulled a thin, ornate key from his robes, its surface reflecting the faint torchlight of the vault corridor. "Never thought I would live to use this key. It's been passed down for generations." His voice held a hint of pride as he slid the key into the heavy door's lock, the metal clicking softly.

Harry, standing beside him, chuckled. As he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small key he retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets, he glanced over at the goblin. "By the way, the Four Founders of Hogwarts predate Gringotts, right?"

Grimbletack, amused by the question, grinned as he turned the key. "The building, yes," he answered, turning the lock with a practiced flick of his wrist. "I know where you're heading with this. If the bank came after the Founders, how did they have vaults here?"

Harry nodded, the thought already on his mind.

"Simple," Grimbletack continued. "Before Gringotts had a physical presence in human territory, we goblins were still handling the banking. The Founders' vaults were elsewhere before we established this building. After the war between wizards and goblins, we consolidated our operations here. Same goes for the Peverell vault."

Harry listened as Grimbletack pushed the heavy vault door open with a groaning creak. He stepped inside, the cool air washing over him, the weight of history hanging in the space. Rows of shelves lined the room, filled with ancient artifacts, books, and treasure—centuries of Slytherin legacy locked away.

Grimbletack remained at the door, his sharp eyes scanning the vault. "Everything here has been waiting for the rightful heir, Mr. Potter."

Grimbletack stood aside and summoned his desk, already settling down to work. "Take your time," he said, not even glancing back at Harry.

Harry stepped into the vault, the heavy door swinging shut behind him with a low groan. Inside, the room was cold, not just from the stone but from the weight of centuries of Slytherin legacy, locked away until now. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, artifacts, and small chests of treasure, each one likely holding some piece of history.

He moved past a stack of ancient tomes, his fingers brushing the spines of the books. They were worn with age, but there was no dust. Everything here had been preserved perfectly, waiting for him—or someone like him—to claim it.

At the center of the vault, Harry spotted a pedestal. Resting on it was a parchment, marked with faded but distinct symbols. "A letter?" he muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes.

He reached out and picked it up, instantly recognizing the familiar slithering script of Parselrunes. His fingers traced over the letters as he began to read aloud in Parseltongue, the words curling from his lips like a soft hiss.

To the Heir of Slytherin…

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