No need to fret, this isn't about to become a Harry-million-titles-and-lordships-Potter fic, I promise XD At least that's not currently on my plans.
November 22nd, 1988
Harry tries to pay more attention during this visit to Gringotts, feeling less scared to be recognised now that his hair is a bright blond and his eyes blue. He still can't really manage something he hasn't seen before but copying people he knows – Mr Wright's eyes and hair or Mr Chris' like he's done this time – feels a little easier whenever he tries. He still wants to turn his hair blue to surprise Hermione during their trip to Diagon next weekend, but maybe he'll settle for making himself look like her instead.
Holding his dad's hand through the crowd, they walk past the goblin they trade non-magical money with and head for one of the ones in the back. He doesn't hear exactly what they say, but they get guided to a room like the one where they did the first blood test, though the desk inside is much bigger and there's already a goblin in there.
He bows in greeting along with his dad and they get a nod in return. "I am Relret, the Potter House manager, take a seat," the goblin motions at the chairs facing the desk and they move to take their seats. "Documents?" a clawed hand extends towards them.
"Here," Mr Wright grabs a huge stack of papers from his messenger bag – how did it all fit in there? – and separates it into three piles on top of the desk, "The adoption certificate, muggle and magical, a copy of the magic guardianship papers that were submitted yesterday, the Stewardship authorisation form signed by Harry, his bloodline test result and the healer's notes on it for inheritance checks, the signed ward-renewal request forms for the Potter properties and- well, these are for the Black account manager," he corrects himself and stores those back, though Harry's already lost track of which pile is which.
That's a lot of paperwork, he thinks to himself, glad he doesn't have to do any of it even if Mr Wright did explain it all before they came to the bank.
The goblin hums – though it could have been a small growl – and pulls the papers closer, looking them over in silence before nodding, "All seems to be in order, I'll have you registered as the Steward of the House of Potter and forward the necessary information by owl unless you'd rather wait for it." Harry thinks that by the goblin's tone, the wait might be a long one.
"I actually added my letterbox number at the bottom of the files," Dad tells the goblin who just nods at that, "But what I came to request, as Harry's official guardian, is access to the Potter wills. I was led to believe they have yet to be read?"
Harry looks between Mr Wright and the goblin nervously when the latter just stares for a bit, but Mr Relret just huffs and starts looking through the drawers on the desk, pulling out a piece of parchment a moment after, "Here, these are the steps to request and schedule a will reading, about time someone took care of it," the last part is muttered under the goblin's breath but Harry still catches it and frowns. It's not his dad's fault that he didn't have an official guardian before! "Will you be taking the heirship ring?"
"Yes," Mr Wright replies, "and a meeting with the Black House manager if possible."
Harry waits until the goblin nods and hops out of his chair, walking out of the room and leaving them alone inside, before speaking, "What's a ring for?"
He doesn't really mind jewellery, Hermione wears earrings and he's seen teachers at school with necklaces, bracelets and rings too, but most of them were girls and the boys only wore the marriage rings, and he's not about to get married. Right?
"Remember how I mentioned the Lords of certain houses?" Dad asks, and Harry nods. He'd spent a whole day making sure he knew the names by heart so he would recognize them if he heard them and remember to be extra polite and bow the right way. "You can't be Lord of House Potter because you're eight," he should have guessed that, "but until you're old enough, you're the Heir to the House, and the ring is meant to show that to people so they know you're protected, besides using it to- you know how I sign my name on documents?" Harry nods, "You can use it to sign things that you want people to know are from the Potter Heir, and any official documents too. I remember Chang mentioning some of them also have actual protective spells, but we'll have to ask Relret when he comes back."
Harry nods, understanding most of it and mostly hoping the ring isn't a big ugly thing that people will make fun of him for at school.
The door of the room opens a minute later, "Heir Potter, Potter Steward," the goblin's voice makes them look over only to see Mr Relret being followed by an older-looking goblin as he walks back into the room, "This is Astraxe, the Black House manager. Given you're the Black Heir's Steward, we might as well get everything done more efficiently."
"Well met," Mr Wright greets and they're quick to stand and exchange the bows before sitting back down. "I'll get the Black account paperwork then," his dad says and retrieves the papers he'd put back on the bag the first time. "Pretty much a copy of what I gave Manager Relret, along with a few things our solicitor unearthed during a search for a suitable magical guardian. The current Lord Black may be interested, though I've failed to reach him about it myself."
"Lord Black enjoys his privacy," Mr Astraxe says, taking the papers, and Harry figures that's the most they're going to get. Mr Wright probably does too, since he continues.
"In any case, I won't have much to steward at all if my assumptions are correct," Dad tells him, reminding Harry of the talk they had about his godfather. He didn't even know he had one and asked why that was, but Mr Wright couldn't know what had happened before they met. He told Harry that people think Mr Black got his parents killed and then killed some muggles before getting caught, but he never got a trial for it so they can't really be sure it's true. He doesn't know what he wants to be true or not, since a friend of his parents getting them killed would be bad but the wizards sending someone to prison without being sure they did it was just as bad. "Are we permitted to visit the Black family vault?"
Oh? Harry sits up straighter, curious about seeing inside a wizard vault. He'd already seen the money, but Mr Wright told him they'd be looking for wands this time, and he could only imagine what else could be in there.
"As Steward to the Heir presumptive to the House of Black, you are allowed to accompany Mr Potter into the family vault," Mr Astraxe explains, "No monetary withdrawal is authorised before the majority and any items will be registered if removed."
"I'm sure Lord Black wouldn't begrudge the Heir of his House a try at their heirloom wands," Dad tells the goblin, and Harry wishes they didn't have to speak with all the fancy words, though he figures it's still better to hear the decisions than have them just happen to him later.
Mr Astraxe just huffs, "I'll have a key delivered promptly. If there's nothing else?"
"That will be all, Manager Astraxe, thank you," Mr Wright nods and the goblin leaves, closing the door behind him. "The ring?"
Mr Relret sits back down on his chair and puts a small wooden box with gold corners on top of the desk right in front of them, "The Potter Heir ring," he says like he's introducing someone and leans back.
"Are there any spells on it?" His dad asks before Harry can even move to pick up the box.
"Resizing and infrangible charms, much like Lordship rings, and standard mind shielding," the goblin replies and Harry has no idea what he's talking about, something changing sizes maybe? He doesn't know the second word and a mind shield just makes him think of someone using a knight shield like a hat.
Harry looks up at his dad when it looks like the goblin won't talk anymore, and Mr Wright just motions for him to go ahead. He looks at the box instead and picks it up, it's the size of the palm of his hand and not very heavy, and he doesn't wait any longer before opening it. The inside of it is made of fuzzy red fabric, with the ring sitting right in the middle. It's big, bigger than any ring he's ever seen, not that he's seen a lot of them. It's silver and thinner at one end while it gets bigger up to the other flat and round side. There's a P on both sides next to the flat bit and the front of it has an image on it like one of those knight shields from television, with drawings a bit too small to tell apart, but the one on top does look something like an animal with two pointy, curved horns maybe like one he's seen int he zoo before, and some of the stuff inside the shield looks like a boiling pot and some sort of flower. It's not ugly, but it's big and different, though he's getting used to different things now, what's one more? Harry thinks and puts the box down on the desk, keeping the ring.
"Left pinky finger," his dad whispers.
Harry's eyes widen a bit because that ring is too big for his pinky, but didn't they say something about sizing? He shrugs and puts it on anyway, and the metal stays the same size for a second before it starts to shrink. He's scared, for a second, that it will keep shrinking and squeeze off his finger, but it stops getting smaller once the whole thing is touching his skin but not too tight.
"Cool," he smiles at his hand, it doesn't look that bad now that it's the right size for his finger, and it's something from his family, so he doesn't think he'll mind if people notice it at school. It's his ring, something he realises his dad – the one married to his mum – probably got to wear before. He likes it and looks up at Mr Wright to tell him so with a grin.
"Will there be anything else or shall we head to the vaults?" Mr Relret asks and Dad shakes his head.
"That's all for now," he replies, "Actually, how long does it take to check for inheritances?"
They'd talked about this too, Ms Dahlia had told his dad that he had some interesting names on his bloodline test and some might have vaults he could take, he didn't want to take other people's things but Dad had explained that if he could take them, they were already dead and Harry could take care of their money and things instead of letting it go to the ministry or the bank. He didn't mind that.
Mr Relret hums and opens a drawer in the desk before dumping one of the paper piles in it, then opening another one and another until all the documents are gone, "Should be a couple of hours, we'll mail you with the results," He opens another drawer and pulls something small and metal from it, that Harry notices are keys when he hands them to Mr Wright. "The keys to the Black and Potter family vaults," Dad nods and picks them up, as well as the knife that the goblin holds out. A little cut into his fingers, a touch to the keys, and the knife is given back while Dad puts the keys in his pocket. "Shal we?" The goblin prompts and they stand up, following the goblin out of the room and through a different door.
"Griphook," Mr Relret calls when they're back in the front and Harry hears a language he doesn't understand – it makes sense that they'd have their language though – before Mr Relret tells them that the other goblin will take them to their vaults.
The new goblin guides them back into the hall and through another passage. Harry expects more marble and gold, but they walk into a small stone passageway instead, lit with torches on the walls. It slopes downward and there's little train tracks on the floor, which he almost asks about but Mr Griphook whistles before he can, and a small cart somehow comes rushing up the tracks towards them. Awesome.
He gets in the cart after Mr Griphook and Mr Wright and they're off. The cart goes fast like a rollercoaster – or at least he thinks so since he's never been in one – and his dad wraps his arms around him, pulling Harry's back into his chest as they get hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. He doesn't mind it, it feels safe, and he grins at the strong wind making his face tingle. It doesn't look like Mr Griphook is even stirring the cart, so Harry doesn't try to remember all the turns they take, especially since they take a lot of them.
Harry doesn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he opens them again when the cart stops, noticing they're in front of a big, round metal door that looks a bit taller than Mr Wright and probably ten times heavier. It's got some carving on its sides, and the same animal from the ring in the centre – he remembers the name now from when he'd seen it in the zoo, an antelope – next to where he could see was the keyhole.
Mr Wright hands a key to the goblin, who then walks over and twists it inside. Harry wants to ask why his dad didn't do that himself, but doesn't want to upset Mr Griphook so he stays quiet instead, watching the door open on its own – good thing too since it looks so heavy – and let out a lot of green smoke. As it cleared, Harry gasped at the sight of what was inside. There were huge golden mountains of Galleons and some of the other two coins he always forgot the name too, but also other stuff like silver armour, lots of shelves with things that looked like potions and books, some jewellery drowning in the middle of the coins or stored in glass boxes, even what looked like animal skins as well as a bunch of boxes, trunks and other knick-knacks spread around.
"Come on then, let's take a look," his dad says, taking his hand and leading him inside the vault.
It looks bigger once they step inside, and Harry barely knows what to look at first, letting go of his dad's hand to step closer to the piles of books closer to the ground since the shelves were a bit too high to reach. Some of them looked like ones he'd seen in the bookstore before, but others looked much older and some didn't even have titles on the side or on the cover.
Hermione would love this.
"Find anything interesting?" Dad's voice coming from behind him a few minutes later almost makes him drop a book he'd picked up.
"Can I take things out?" Harry asks, not sure if he's allowed since it's Mr Wright who got the key.
"Sure, we can put any books in my bag," he says, taking it off his shoulder and holding it out so Harry can take it.
He grins and starts sliding a few books into the bag, which he realizes is definitely magical. Did Ms Chang get it for him?
He hears Mr Wright walking and muttering around the vault before he comes back again, this time with a dark red fabric in his arms. "Here we go, the reason we needed to come here," he puts the fabric down and pulls it open, showing a bunch of different wooden sticks inside like the ones Harry's seen Ms Dahlia and Ms Chang use before. Wands!
Harry grabs the closest one, but drops it when it stings his palm, "Ouch," he complains, rubbing it on the side of his pants.
"I guess that's a no," Mr Wright says with a small smile, "only… eleven more to go."
He picks up the one he dropped on the ground by the tip and throws it back on the fabric before picking up another one, and the next, and the one after that. All he does is a bit of a mess – though he's glad nothing flew off the shelves, probably some magic keeping stuff stuck to it – with flying coins and flapping fabrics, but other than some weak stings, a shock that almost made Mr Wright stop him from trying more, there was no reaction at all and none of them felt right.
"It was worth a shot," his dad tries to make him feel better, though Harry's too busy worrying about no wands working for him at all and being kicked out of the magic world to smile back. "Hey, it's fine, there's still the Black vault and if that doesn't work out, we wait to get you a wand when you go to school."
Harry hums and nods but doesn't feel like picking up any more books, in a rush to go to the next vault. They get back into the cart and head even further down, the cold air from the quick ride calming him down a bit. It's not like he doesn't have magic, he's done it on accident a lot and he can even feel it a bit sometimes, even more now that he's doing his metamorph thing before sleep, so people can't say he's not a wizard.
The Black vault door has darker metal on it, the Potter one looked like bronze but this one looks almost… well, black. It's got scribbles on the edges too, but where there was an antelope on the other one, this one has a bird with its huge beak, wings and claws open almost like it's going to attack anyone that tries to open the door without permission. When Mr Griphook opens the door, the smoke that comes out of it is a dark blue that reminds him of the night sky.
"I don't think you should touch anything but the wands," Mr Wright tells him as they walk inside and he nods, definitely agreeing. Some of the stuff on top of trunks and shelves looked scary, and some of the ones that didn't just felt kind of weird. The wands are easier to find this time, all of them on a wall-mounted metal stand on the right side of the vault and Harry nearly trips on a rug – it has some animal head on it! – in a rush to get to them. "Careful," Mr Wright reminds him and Harry hears something scraping against the floor before a bug trunk gets dragged in front of him, "Here, wait," he watches as his dad pulls the strange animal skin rug from the ground and throws it over the trunk, "now you can reach them."
Oh, right, "Thanks," he says, realizing the wand stands really are too high to reach and immediately climbing on top of the trunk, his dad's arms hovering near in case he falls.
They don't look much different from the Potter vault wands, mostly in dark brown and black woods with a few light ones thrown in, some of them with fancy-looking handles and others looking like someone pulled a branch out of the nearest tree and put it there. He reaches for the top one- and stops before touching it, something in his chest feeling weirdly fizzy. Maybe not that one.
He tries a couple of them, more careful before touching the others, but other than another small shock, nothing much happens. Harry's about to give up and ask to go home – how long has he been trying these wands anyway? There's a lot more than in the Potter vault – when a wand on the next stand gets his attention. It's nearly white, a very light-coloured wood, and the carvings are little circles that remind him of an octopus tentacle, looking like it might be fun to hold. He stands on the tip of his toes at the edge of the trunk to reach for it, and he's almost got a hand around it when he loses his balance, knocking off a few wands and almost falling to the ground if his dad didn't catch him in time.
"Maybe let me grab the top ones for you," Mr Wright suggests with a chuckle and Harry huffs, annoyed that none of the wands have worked for him, but nods.
He picks up the white one off the floor, and the little circles in the wood do feel kind of different on his hand, but nothing happens. He puts it on top of the trunk and crouches to grab the other wand that fell almost behind it, some dark wood that goes a bit purple near the handle, and falls on his bum when his hand touches it, pulling it right back and hugging it to his chest with a yelp of pain.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Mr Wright kneels next to him and pries his hand away from his chest, making a face at it. Harry looks down only to see the tip of three of his fingers have gone black, and still sting even though he let go of the wand quickly. "Maybe we shouldn't be messing around in here, come on. We can ask Ch- Lei about a wand to practice later, let's get that checked out."
They hurry out of the vault, Harry more upset at not having found a wand that works for him than at his tingling fingertips.
"I don't know about letting you touch even more unfamiliar magical things," Michael frowns down at Harry. They were once again in a Gringotts meeting room, having been called back only a few hours after leaving for the first time, and his son was swinging his legs back and forth under the chair in excitement at the news they had received.
The first subject of the meeting had been a note from Astraxe, letting him know that Lord Black would be looking into the trial of Harry's godfather – or lack thereof. He hadn't had the time to look more into it yet, the curious case of Sirius Black, but Chang had informed him that she had been approved to look into the private Ministry files and found a whole lot of nothing besides a request for transfer of custody – a transport to Azkaban. No arrest sheet, no trial records, not even a crumb of indication that it had been a lawful arrest despite every newspaper at the time claiming it so. Hell, the only files with the man's name other than the transfer request had been his birth certificate, apparition license and OWL and NEWT certification results. It was about time someone looked into it, for better or worse.
What followed the note was Relret's declaration that there were indeed a few inheritances available to Harry due to the results of his bloodline ritual. Not many, he had explained, a few of them had gone over the lawful waiting period and been dissolved – he did not inform them of which ones and neither Harry nor Michael cared to ask – but Harry had gained immediate access to two vaults, with keys being immediately handed over and bonded to Michael as the kid's guardian since neither of the vaults were designated Heir vaults. Up until then, there had been no objections other than telling Harry they would come back on a different day to look at the Ollerton and Blume vaults, leaving only a request for a list of the items in the vault and whether any properties were still linked to their respective accounts, and then Relret informed them of two more possible inheritances.
Apparently, even though they were well over the time allowed to claim a stagnant account, these two specific vaults were exempt from that particular rule. The Peverell and Slytherin vaults, names he recognized from a passing mention by Dahlia, did not work quite like the others, he was told. If any client became eligible to inherit them, they were expected to present themselves for some sort of evaluation at the vault doors and would only then be judged deserving or not of whatever lay beyond their gates. Michael was, understandably after the small scare with the wands, quite hesitant to let Harry submit himself to the whim of any more magical objects.
The effect of the wand's rejection – a black tint to the tip of three of his son's fingers – had faded back to normal after a few minutes and a short visit to Chang had confirmed no lingering effects, as well as earned him an earful for letting Harry have free reign of the wands of in the Black vault. The last thing he wanted was another magical scare he could do nothing about.
"But what happens if I can't- uh, make the door let me in?" Harry asks the Potter account manager.
"Well, there have been no attempts to access the Peverell vault in my lifetime," Relret replies in a pensive tone, "but the Slytherin vault will merely refuse to open, I believe. Any rejection will hardly be anything lethal or even particularly harmful, at least to those who have the right to attempt their claim," the tone at the end of the declaration makes it very clear that anyone not supposed to try their hand at those vaults may end up meeting an untimely end.
"Can I try, please?" Harry looks up at him with unfairly effective puppy eyes, and Michael has half a mind to give Cho a talking-to for being a bad influence since this had hardly been done on purpose before.
"...fine," he caves with a sigh, "If the goblins say you won't be hurt, I'm inclined to trust their word," a pointed look is still sent toward said goblin, who only nods in response.
"Follow me," Relret climbs off his chair to lead them out of the meeting room and back into the mine carts of hell.
Michael appreciates a good rollercoaster as much as the next person, but he had not signed up for a repeat performance so soon and didn't enjoy the constant fear of Harry somehow managing to fly out of the cart. It feels like an eternity until they finally come to a stop, and he may have hallucinated a flash of flame before one of the turns and the way it feels much colder than before, which he simply attributes to being further underground than the first time.
The door they have parked by is smaller than he expected, at least in comparison to the Potter and Black vaults, and is shaped more like an archway, although a jet-black one. There are still runes, as he's noticed in the outline of every door so far, but instead of an animal or even a keyhole, there is only a large silver symbol contrasting with the dark metal behind it. It's not a familiar one, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line cutting vertically through both, and gives no hint as to how his son is supposed to claim whatever lies behind it.
"He won't get hurt?" Michael feels the need to confirm once Harry steps closer to the vault, earning a huff followed by an unintelligible grunt from Relret
"Uh," Harry mutters after touching the centre of the symbol only for nothing to happen, "I don't think it's mine," he says in a questioning tone, poking around its edges and then the door itself to no avail.
"It was worth a try," Michael placates, mirroring his earlier words regarding the wands, and motions for them to get back in the cart. "Slytherin is next, then."
It had been explained to them, once he'd asked about this particular vault's association with Hogwarts, that while inheriting it may come with a fourth of Hogwarts attached, the vault itself was not considered a property of the wizarding school. Given all of the paperwork regarding Harry's accounts that he had yet to get through, he hardly wanted to imagine the headache that would follow if his son inherited one-fourth of a school.
Please let this not work, he mentally pleads once the cart stops in its tracks for the second time, this time facing a much larger round door in aged silver, with obvious snake imagery in the form of an ouroboros circling the entire thing.
As soon as Harry steps close to the door, said ouroboros ripples from the tail to its head, whose closed mouth previously latched onto its tail opens and moves away from the door, slithering against the silver until it reaches Harry's eye level and then completely detaches part of itself from it, hovering in front of his son.
"Harry," It takes tremendous self-control not to pull his son back by the arm or step in front of him, and he only manages to hold himself back due to a lack of clear intent to harm from the metallic snake construct.
"What's it doing?" Harry asks, not moving from his spot and just staring right back at the snake, whose metallic tongue darts out and nearly brushes his son's nose.
"Speaker," The snake's sibilant voice greets and only then does Michael realise Harry had asked his question in parseltongue. "Have you come to claim my treasure?"
"Um- if I can, yes," Harry somehow manages to stutter out in the magical serpent tongue. "What do I have to do?"
"Your actions matter not," the snake's response is hardly reassuring, especially as it starts swaying slightly from one side to another as it continues, "only your magic, and your blood."
Before Michael can get close enough to do something about it, the snake strikes. It clamps its jaw around Harry's right hand, obviously piercing the palm by the startled yelp that leaves his son's mouth, and retracts just as he frantically pulls the boy away, trying to inspect the damage, but instead of finding multiple punctures made by the snake's metallic fangs, there's only a small drop of blood gathering at the centre of his son's palm as if he'd been poked by a sharp needle.
"Welcome, Slytherin Heir," The snake's declaration pulls their attention towards it just in time to see it flatten itself against the metal once again and slither in what, after a moment, seems to form a figure eight in the centre of the door before biting its tail as soon as the shape looks perfect.
With a short high-pitched screeching sound of metal scraping against metal, the door slowly slides open on its own, pitch-black smoke pouring out of the vault before starting to clear.
Harry seems to forget all about the scare, pulling his hand from Michael's grasp and rushing forward into the vault, "Wait!" He warns, making the kid pause just a step over the threshold, "Harry, we need to be careful, we don't know what's inside," to be fair, half of the entrance seemed to be covered by mountains upon mountains of fabric and wooden chests with galleons strewn randomly in between, nothing very dangerous-looking. "How about we go back up now that we know you own this vault and come back another time?"
"Can I just have a look?" Harry turns with a pleading look, "I won't touch anything, promise!"
"... right, just a quick look, but stay close," he warns, stepping over the threshold and taking Harry's uninjured hand in his. He can admit, if only to himself, that he's just as curious.
If the two vaults they had entered before this felt old, walking further into the Slytherin vault feels like stepping back in time. There are honest-to-god swords and shields mounted on the walls, chainmail and armour gathered into a corner, glistening jewellery peeking out from beneath piles of colourful fabrics, and the few complete garments he can spot look like something that wouldn't be out of place in a royal court. Every book in sight looks like it should have been preserved in a museum, leather-covered and aged with time, and the few visible titles are not in any language he can read.
On the leftmost corner, the ancient chests and books give way to what seems like fabric-covered easels, and he can't help but reach for one of the red fabrics to uncover the hidden painting, wondering what works of art have been locked away all this time.
"Finally!," A deep voice that can't possibly belong to the goblin at the entrance makes him jump back, dropping the fabric to the ground and pulling Harry closer to his side as they stare at the moving figure of a man in the painting, his arms crossing in front of himself as if upset as he narrowed bright green eyes at them, "Took you long enough!"
Harry switches from "Mr Wright" to "Dad" all the time like half his brain's going "Be polite! This might not last! Don't get too used to it!" and the other half is "I have a dad! That's my dad now! I can say it anytime!" and I wanna smush his cute little face.
LETTERBOX
A smaller, more practical and popular version of the Vanishing Cabinet. It's usually slightly bigger than a mailbox and made of quality wood, each one has its number and, much like a telephone, also a metal rotary dial imbued into the top of it to insert the number of the desired recipient of the letter. Most businesses have them, as well as people who receive a lot of mail and don't wish to wait for an owl. The restrictions that make it a viable commercial product are that it can only transport paper, which means no instant delivery of products or organic matter, only letters, which is why most common wixen tend to simply have an owl instead.
Also, the Heir ring! Not a bunch of spells on them either, infrangible charm just stands for "can't be summoned, transfigured or affected in any way". Harry didn't get the Black heir ring because of the whole Sirius issue, since Arcturus isn't dead yet and is still the Lord of the House of Black, Sirius is the Heir even though he's in prison, and having named Harry his heir won't mean much until he's either convicted or exonerated, or the current Lord Black dies.
So... what did you guys think of the inheritances? Any theories? I would apologise for the cliffhanger but I am not sorry at all mwahahahaha. Feel free to yell at me in the comments.