Harry took a deep, calming breath. Today, he felt unusually nervous, but he guessed it was understandable in this situation.

Today he was finally going to visit the Potter Vaults and retrieve the family Grimoire. Something he had been planning to do since he was declared a legal adult. The latter was far more important to him than the former by a wide margin. Learning his family magic was something he had wanted to do since he discovered its existence so he was eager to begin. However, he was still not sure if the Potter Grimoire would accept him.

It was not strange for a family grimoire to reject members of the family, it simply happened and no one really knew why. Magic was whimsical like that.

"Harry," Elizabeth whispered on his ear, bringing him back to reality.

He gave her a small smile in an effort to put her at ease. Right, he couldn't afford to show his boredom. It was hardly his fault though, the meeting was even more tedious than the Wizengamot session that he had attended that one time.

Ploutos, along with the other elves in charge of business, were having a heated conversation with Ragnok and his assistants, Gornuk and Bogrod. While Harry was good with numbers, all the logistics and overcomplicated business plans made his head ache. With no amount of shame, he admitted that he was totally lost in the meeting that he was forced to attend by Rome. Personally, he was not really interested in making money, only in pulling the magical world out of its stagnation. However, if he had to attend more meeting like this, then he would find another way.

"That is the last topic of our agenda. We will be meeting next month to discuss the new branch offices of the subsidiary brands. Meeting adjourned," Ragnok declared, much to Harry's relief.

The elves and the bank employees said their brief farewells as Harry waited, nodding at his elves in silent gratitude for their efforts.

"I think I'll also leave," Elizabeth murmured, startling him.

"Why?"

"You have to visit the family Vault, it's an important day. Besides, I wanted to show Cleo some things I bought when I visited the muggle side of the Tribes."

"Let's meet at the cafe in an hour," Harry sighed, knowing he wouldn't change the girl's mind.

"I see that you enjoyed the meeting," Ragnok said with clear amusement. That sadist.

"That is why teens are not involved in these kinds of things."

Really, he was only fourteen. Ploutos and Ragnok could take care of everything, but no. He had to learn how to manage the family business. Why had he even thought that being involved in the business world was a good idea? Ah, that's right, he didn't think. Harry cursed his younger self.

"We were waiting for you to become an adult."

"I really hate you," Harry said with fake cheerfulness, almost pouting at the satisfied smirk that the goblin gave him. "Never in my life I considered four hours to be much until today. I will be happy if I don't have to participate again."

"I promise nothing," Ragnok said, looking far too satisfied for Harry's peace of mind. "To the vaults?"

"Right. So how you solved the personnel issue in the branch offices?" If you can't fight them, join them. Harry changed tactics and followed the man out of his office.

"You really didn't pay attention," Ragnok said, looking quite exasperated. "We got house-elves, but instead of bonding them with the family, we bonded them with the place."

"Isn't that the same system that Hogwarts use?" Harry asked, receiving a nod in response and frowning at the answer.

"It's safe," Ragnok said once he noticed the teen's stormy expression. "They draw magic from the wards."

"Good. I also heard about the potion ingredients stores, how is that going?"

"Not as well. Aside from Europe, only the Asian Empire has accepted to open a potion ingredients store. We have tried other countries, but we have only received negative answers so we have to be satisfied with exporting the materials to different suppliers."

"Is it because of the price?"

"The demand, actually. The sanctuary provides willingly given animal materials, something that any potioneer worth its salt would buy over any other ingredient. It would also be invaluable for wand-making."

"So it's not convenient for the local production," Harry concluded.

"That and the many important names that make their money through potion ingredients. They don't have problems in reselling our products, but the competition is never welcomed. After you."

Harry only sighed and got in the cart, ready for the unpleasant trip to the Potter Vaults. The cart began moving and Harry took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on his hands.

Three hundred and seventy-four breaths are how long it took to arrive. His body was so confused by the dozens of twists, turns, and only Morgana knows what else, that he had to take a moment so the floor could stop moving. Thankfully, he hadn't eaten breakfast or this would be a hundred times more embarrassing.

"Don't worry, the trip was not easy," Ragnok wheezed, looking quite nauseous himself. "I forgot how much I hated to come down here."

Harry could only grunt in response and began examining his surroundings. Not that there was much to see. The cart stopped right before the rail ended, in front of a rather rustic, not to say antiquated door. Aside from that, there were only two rock walls, nothing else.

"So this is the Potter Vault."

"The oldest one in the bank."

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Harry knew so.

Ignacius Potter had been the head of the family when Gringotts was founded. Those were shaky times, goblins were not trusted and the favour was returned. The only reason why the Ministry allowed the bank to be founded was to stop the possible war between species. Ideally, mages would have never trusted goblins with their gold and the Goblin Nation would have been secluded. At least those were the Ministry's plans.

Of course, the Potters had never been known for doing others biding. Ignacius had – quite publically, if Harry may add – been the first client of the bank. The Potters were not spectacularly rich, but they were stable and had a reputation for siring talented children and their unrivalled potions. It also helped that they were known as purebloods despite of never intermarrying.

That decision marked a before and an after for the family.

The goblins are not the nicest people, it is in their nature to be hostile. However, it is also in their nature to be loyal and in their values to be honourable. Gringotts himself acknowledged the trust that Ignacius had given his people, even if that was not his original intention. Therefore, he was offered help from the bank.

Seeing as the Potter wealth only increased since he began dealing with the bank, other mages followed his example. Of course, there were also a few others who tried to break in the bank and steal the gold. That is how Gringotts earned its reputation as the safest place in Magical Britain.

Harry's ancestor eventually turned into a friend of the Goblin Nation, thus, he was offered special services – such as a goblin that helped him with his finances, among other benefits. Only a few families, say rich ones, were offered the same option. This is where common sense played the most important role. Mages showed their clear distaste for goblins, consequently, the fees for the extra services rose. The intelligent ones managed to connect the dots and began using Gringotts as a glorified storage, deciding to forego any external aid, but keeping a manger for appearance sakes.

Their stupidity aided the ascension of the Potters to power and the rest was history.

"Put your hand on the door," Ragnok said, immediately breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

The teen simply nodded and placed his hand between the handles, where there was a free space on the otherwise overly adorned door. Harry almost shuddered at the sensation of alien magic interacting with his own. What a bizarre experience.

There was no smoke or any other impressive effect when the door opened. There was a click that resounded in the empty corridor and that was it. The door only opened enough to allow one person. Harry took a careful step inside and examined his surroundings. His first impression of the vault was that the one that had decorated had been overly fond of the old Slytherin common room.

The torches bathed the Vault in a green light, illuminating the almost empty room. The left wall was formed by innumerable precious stones, or at least Harry assumed that was the case because he couldn't see any other thing than overvalued rocks. The left wall, curiously, was formed by precious metals. On the back of the room, there was a single lectern made out of some dark material, where a single book rested.

Harry took a deep breath and began approaching it. When he was a few steps away, words began forming on the dark stone of the wall.

Welcome, young Potter.

If you are here, it means that the wards approve of you, but that does not mean that the family magic does.

The Potter family has humble beginnings, thus we know of hardships from firsthand experience. These hardships are what formed our family motto: Noblesse Oblige. As part of this family, is your duty to protect the less privileged, as we once were in that position. As a Potter, is in your blood to protect Mother Magic in all her forms.

Mother Magic did not select our blood to carry any special ability, no. We were chosen to carry her blessing. Our connection with her is our greatest treasure.

This Grimoire contains all the knowledge that the family managed to acquire throughout time. It is your decision whether you want to learn. But beware, dear child, if you offended magic in any way, you will not be allowed to learn the family secrets. Only open the Grimoire when you are ready or you might lose your birthright.

Never forget to respect Mother Magic in all her forms and the respect shall be returned.

Protect our legacy,

Ignacius Potter

As if Harry was not anxious enough, the message had to fray his nerves further.

"Now or never," he whispered to himself and placed a hand on the book.

Nothing happened.

Carefully, Harry flipped open the Grimoire, expecting some kind of backlash but absolutely nothing happened. He examined the open page only to discover that is was written in some old language that he was unable to understand, so he leafed through the pages until he found something he could understand.

Potions. Pages and pages of potions, along with different methods to brew them along with particularly specific ingredients. There were also some spells and artefacts, along with the instructions on how to recreate them. Every single piece of knowledge had its history – the reason why it had been created and its original purpose.

There was so much to read that Harry was positively overwhelmed. At least the Grimoire had accepted him. Right? He looked for Ragnok in order to ask the man if he could explain more about the Grimoire and the Vault in general, but the goblin was looking at him with an expression he had never shown before. Wistfulness.

"You remind me so much of Charlus and Frederick," Ragnok sighed when he noticed Harry's curious gaze. "Frederick was your grandfather's grandfather. Just like you, he was forced to take care of the family when he was young. He married the youngest daughter of the Czar, Evgenia Tserova. Both worked incessantly to protect the Potter Family and expand its influence. They were quite successful, as you may know.

"Their daughter, Olivia, died a few days before turning an adult because of a potion accident. Their son, Henry, was far more interested in trying to force the Ministry into acknowledging muggles as people. He failed, obviously. The boy was quite brash, but he had a good heart. Henry married a muggle healer. I never met her, but I know that she helped him to develop different potions. Then, your grandfather was born.

"I met Charlus since he was a toddler, tripping on his own feet when he tried to follow his father around. He was a close friend of mine. It is good to see that the Family is on good hands."

"How you met my father?" Harry asked quietly.

"When he was an unruly toddler. Dorea never allowed him to follow Charlus again," the man said with a soft chuckle. "I never got the opportunity to really deal with him. A shame, he became the kind of person that Frederick would be proud of."

"So, why is there no money in here?" The teen decided to change topics in order to snap back the goblin of his melancholic mood to a more familiar territory.

"What is the real value of money?" Ragnok asked instead and Harry immediately understood what the man meant. "That is right, real wealth has little to do with money. The Potter Vault was designed to represent part of the material wealth that the family holds. As you can see, the family ideals and the knowledge of your ancestors are the family's real treasure."

"I guess we can leave now," Harry said after a moment of silence, deciding to take the Grimoire with him.

Both walked out of the vault and the doors closed after them. The cart ride was as unpleasant as the first time, so Harry only clenched his teeth and dealt with the after-effects in silence.

"If you don't mind, I will leave you on your own from here," Ragnok said, looking worse than Harry felt. The teen took a step back just in case.

"I know the way, rest well, Ragnok."

"Don't forget that no one else is allowed to see the grimoire."

"I know, don't worry. Go to your abode before you end up throwing up in the corridors," Harry said and the goblin nodded absently. "Don't forget to greet your wife!"

The teen chuckled and left with long strides before the goblin magically felt better and began scolding him for charming his wife. In his defence, Karrig was a charming woman who happened to enjoy the same tea as he did and made the best underground mushroom toast he had ever tasted. Granted, it was the only underground mushroom toast he had tasted, but it was really good.

Before opening the doors, Harry put the grimoire in his messenger back and had the urge to go to the castle so it was safe. However, he had promised to meet with his sister first.

Oh well, this would be a lesson to remember. Never make plans after Gringotts.