Gringotts was exactly as I remembered from the stories — towering marble pillars, echoing halls, and goblins whose sharp eyes missed nothing. Yet seeing it in person, walking across the polished stone as my cloak billowed behind me… it hit me just how real this new life was.
I approached the nearest teller with a cold confidence.
"I am the new Lord Black," I announced, my voice threaded with authority and the barest hint of threat. "You will verify my claim."
The goblin's eyebrow twitched — surprise, suspicion, greed — but he said nothing. Soon, I found myself in a private office, runes spiraling around a ceremonial dagger and a parchment that shimmered with ancient enchantments. Blood magic… the goblins were masters of it.
A single drop of my blood struck the parchment, and the ink rearranged itself into glowing scarlet letters:
Heir Claim Valid — Bloodline Recognized: Regulus Arcturus BlackStatus: Lord Black — Legal
A rush of satisfaction pulsed through me. All the wards, the inheritance, the power of one of the oldest families in Wizarding Britain — now mine.
The goblin bowed his head slightly. "Congratulations, Lord Black. Shall we notify the Ministry of Magic?"
"Yes. And take note: I want it known that I am Regulus Black's illegitimate heir. Quietly verified. Publicly undeniable."
Goblins appreciated cunning. I saw respect flare in their eyes.
Soon enough, the announcement rippled through wizarding Britain. My name was recorded in the Wizengamot ledgers. Vaults once sealed were now open to me. The Black family's votes — mine to wield.
Gold beyond imagination. Treasure troves of enchanted heirlooms. Ancient properties whispering with forgotten magic.
And yet, I didn't linger to bask in my newfound nobility.
I returned to 12 Grimmauld Place with purpose burning through my veins.
The wards welcomed me now — my magic recognized as their master. The house seemed to breathe differently, as though the oppressive darkness lifted just enough to acknowledge a proper heir.
I wasted no time. There was still much to do.
Books across the Black library — grimoires soaked in forbidden knowledge, tomes that would have been locked away in Hogwarts' Restricted Section — now lay open before me. Mind arts, curses, rituals… every page strengthened my grasp on power.
Occlumency? A fortress of obsidian now guarded my thoughts — eidetic memory, impenetrable mental shields, illusions crafted to fool even the greatest Legilimens alive.
Legilimency? Minds became books for me to read. Secrets were simply pages waiting to be turned.
Potions? With Sauron's intellect and alchemical mastery echoing within me, even the most complex brews were effortless. Felix Felicis shimmered like molten gold in my cauldron, and Draught of Living Death obeyed me as though I had invented it myself.
I sat upon the grand high-backed chair of the Black Family Study, fingers brushing the Grimoire that pulsed with ancient authority.
Lord Black.A master of dark arts.Unbound by prophecy.Unseen by destiny.
A slow smile curved my lips.
Step two was complete: status, wealth, knowledge… secured.Now it was time to reshape the wizarding world — on my terms.