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HP Chapter 3: The Inheritance of Her Parents
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 06:36:05 +0000 UTCAs soon as they stepped through the passageway, the view before them opened up in an instant. Anne turned around to look behind her, only to find that the passage had vanished and become a solid stone wall. Aaron led her forward a few steps onto a cobbled path. Though the path wasn’t wide, it bustled with foot traffic, and the lights from the surrounding shops made it bright as day.
Just outside the closest shop stood a tall, thin man holding something that looked like licorice root, enthusiastically advertising it to passersby.
Being dragged along by Aaron, Anne wished she had a smartphone so she could capture everything around her. What she’d seen in the movies paled in comparison to the shock of experiencing it all in person.
Ding-a-ling Ding-a-ling, a bell chimed as the door to a nearby shop swung open.
Gurgle gurgle..., a cauldron of green, viscous liquid bubbled by another storefront. Anne leaned in and sniffed curiously, only to be hit with the stench of rotting oranges.
Unfamiliar and bizarre items flooded her vision one after another. Anne couldn’t get enough. She glanced left and right eagerly, full of curiosity and questions about the magical world.
Aaron led her to a gleaming white building that stood significantly taller than the surrounding shops. A small goblin stood by the bronze-colored door, about the same height as Anne. It had dark skin, a pointed chin, long ears, and unusually long fingers.
“This is our destination for today, Gringotts!” Aaron declared, guiding her inside.
“Um… Mr. Hall…” Anne tugged on Aaron’s sleeve.
“Aaron Uncle, Anne, just call me Uncle Aaron,” he corrected with a smile, pausing to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Uncle Aaron, just now…” Anne glanced back at the goblin by the entrance, a little wary. “What is that?” she asked, nervously pointing before lowering her hand.
Following her gaze, Aaron chuckled to himself, slightly regretful. She might’ve been smart and composed for her age, but she was still only eleven. Of course she'd be scared seeing a whole new world for the first time.
In a soothing tone, he explained, “That’s a goblin, Anne. They might look a bit frightening and aren’t the friendliest bunch, but they won’t hurt you. In fact, they’re the best when it comes to managing wealth. They run this place.”
Anne frowned slightly. So that’s a goblin? They didn’t look quite like the ones in the movies.
Thinking she was still frightened, Aaron gently ruffled her short black hair. “From now on, you’ve got Uncle Aaron. Whenever something troubles you, you can come to me, alright? I’ll always help you.” He knelt down to her eye level. “Did you know? If it hadn’t been for… everything that happened, I would’ve been your godfather. So don’t be afraid.”
His sincere gaze stirred something in Anne. There were times she had felt terrified of facing the world alone. Sure, she was an adult with a "golden finger" and knowledge of this world’s future, but humans are social creatures.
She nodded seriously, not even minding that he’d ruffled her hair again.
Aaron straightened up, a warm smile on his face. Such a sensible, clever child, he thought. Lambert, Sonia, I promised you, I’ll take care of her.
Soon, they entered a great hall made entirely of white marble. Over a hundred goblins sat behind high counters, writing in ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, and examining gemstones through magnifying glasses. Wizards and witches in black or grey robes moved about, passing in and out of doors with goblin escorts.
Aaron led Anne straight to a goblin at an empty counter. “Good evening. We’d like to retrieve something from the vault of Anne Reeve.”
“Do you have the key, sir?” the goblin asked, glancing up.
“Of course.” Aaron let go of Anne’s hand. “Wait here, Anne.” He opened his coat and retrieved a small golden key from an inner pocket. After handing it to the goblin, he took Anne’s hand again.
Anne could sense that he was afraid she might wander off, and allowed herself to be led while curiously eyeing the goblin beside them, who was weighing a fist-sized piece of obsidian.
The goblin inspected the key and nodded. “Very well. I’ll send someone to escort you to Vault 463. Griphook!”
Another goblin emerged from behind the counter and bowed politely before leading them to a small door. Though it was called “small,” it still stood half a head taller than Aaron, only small in comparison to the massive five-meter-high doors nearby.
Anne followed them into the archway lit by torches on either side. The stone path sloped downward until they reached a dead end, where a rail track floated over a vast, dark underground chasm. Tracks crisscrossed above and below, suspended in midair.
Anne gasped in awe, just as a cart sped along one of the rails and screeched to a stop before them.
Aaron scooped her up at once.
“Careful,” he said gently.
Anne flushed and stuck out her tongue sheepishly. She hadn’t expected such a huge underground cavern, or floating tracks!
Aaron didn’t scold her at all. Still smiling, he jumped into the cart with her and said, “Amazing, isn’t it? I was even more stunned the first time I came. This is Gringotts, the safest bank in the world.” He shifted her so she could see the depths below.
“No one knows how deep it goes. Your father used to say it must go all the way to the Earth’s core.”
Though she appreciated his care, Anne squirmed, not used to being held like this.
Aaron noticed and set her down with a grin. “Aw, is Anne shy now?” he teased, ruffling her hair again.
Anne glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, starting to doubt whether this man was really a responsible adult wizard. He didn’t feel all that reliable.
The cart raced along the tracks, left, right, up, down, until it screeched to a stop in front of a stone vault door.
The landing before the vault looked like it had been carved into a cliff wall, just big enough to stand on, with a heavy stone door embedded in the rock.
The goblin stepped forward, and a nearby lamp flickered to life. Aaron lifted Anne onto the platform and followed. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “Watch closely, Anne. This is the inheritance your parents left you.”
The goblin tapped the door, which slowly rumbled open to reveal heaps of gold, silver, and bronze coins, as well as shelves of jars and crystal balls.
Aaron led the wide-eyed Anne into the vault. “All of this is yours.”
Anne stared in disbelief at the mound of glittering coins. This has to be a dream. There's no way this is real. I was mentally prepared to earn money by trading Reeves or oil in the Muggle market. But this? Gold coins?! I thought I’d be a poor orphan in a new world with just a photographic memory cheat!
Swallowing hard, she finally managed to say, “This… all of this is mine?”
Aaron gave her a firm nod and walked to the wall to retrieve a small crystal ball, which he sealed in a little box from his pocket.
Having calmed down, Anne reminded herself that after all she’d been through, even death, this was nothing. Besides, this wasn’t just random wealth. It was her parents’ legacy.
“Uncle Aaron… my parents… did they really die in a car crash? Weren’t they wizards?”
Aaron knelt again and held her shoulders. “You’re still young. When you're older, I’ll explain everything. Just remember, your parents wanted you to live a happy life. That’s all.”
Anne had already guessed her parents might’ve been connected to Voldemort’s era, but Aaron clearly wasn’t ready to tell her more. That was fine, there’d be time. Her parents had given her a new life. Even if she barely remembered them, for Anne’s sake...
“Uncle Aaron, could you tell me more about them sometime? I… I don’t really remember anything about them,” she asked quietly, tugging at her sleeve.
“Of course, of course. Your mother, Sonia Roland, was a brilliant Ravenclaw with beautiful amber eyes, just like yours. Your father, Lambert Reeve, was a Slytherin prefect. And I, Aaron Hall, was the Gryffindor prefect,” he added with pride.
Seeing Anne’s curious face, he smiled. “But we’ll save those stories for later. For now, we need to take out some money for your Hogwarts tuition. It's late, so we can’t get your wand tonight, but we can still stop by Madam Malkin’s for robe measurements.”
He took out a gold, silver, and bronze coin. “This is a Galleon, this is a Sickle, and this is a Knut. One Galleon equals 17 Sickles, one Sickle equals 29 Knuts. Easy enough.” He slipped the coins into her pocket.
Anne was intrigued by the exchange rates. When he finished explaining, she’d already memorized it, though she did find the conversion a little strange.
“Uncle Aaron, what about Muggle-borns? What if they don’t have money like this?” she asked, genuinely curious.
Aaron answered casually, “Gringotts can exchange Muggle money too. If a Muggle receives a Hogwarts letter, an owl will wait for a reply, and a special wizard will come to guide them.”
He didn’t realize how insightful that question was for someone encountering the magical world for the first time.
Anne nodded. That makes sense. Wizards have to live in the Muggle world too, of course they need a proper system for that.
After filling a pouch with coins, they left the vault. The goblin sealed the door with a flick of its long fingers.
Back in the main hall, they received a parchment record: one crystal ball, 200 Galleons, and 100 Sickles.
Anne signed her name in flowing script: Anne Reeve.
Aaron tucked the golden key back into his coat. “From today onward, I’m your legal guardian. I’ll keep this key safe for you until you turn sixteen, which is when you’ll be considered an adult in the wizarding world. If you need anything, just let me know. Alright?”
Anne nodded. Better for a wizard to keep the key. If she had to carry it herself, she’d never sleep well, not with that much money on the line.
Next, they stopped by Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Aside from a brief scare when a measuring tape suddenly sprang to life, everything went smoothly.
Afterward, a Disapparation brought them back to the orphanage.
In Anne’s small room, Aaron pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to her. “Anne, I have to go now. Tomorrow, you can reply to Hogwarts and say I’ll accompany you. I’ll come again in the afternoon so we can buy the rest of your school supplies.”
He paused and gave a sheepish smile. “I may have been a little impulsive tonight…” He didn’t finish his sentence but instead pointed at the box in her hands. “Open it, place your hand on top, and really feel it. I think you’ll like it.”
With those parting words, he vanished.
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A/N: I've changed a setting, an important one! Wizards in this world come of age at 16.
