August 10, 1990
Walking through Diagon Alley, his black robes billowed as he carried the magical suitcase in his left hand, blending in with the crowd. He wanted to marvel at the magic around him and explore the shops, but he had a goal and would not be distracted. He walked through the Alley until he reached a white building.
Gringotts, the wizarding bank, stood imposingly with its white marble structure and majestic columns. He climbed the white steps, giving a slight nod to the goblin acting as a guard. With his wrinkled face and sharp gaze, the goblin did not return the greeting, observing indifferently those who entered.
He arrived at some silver doors with an inscription above:
"Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there."
Upon reading the inscription, he gave a slightly ironic smile, recalling stories of successful robbery attempts at Gringotts he had heard in his past life. He knew well that, despite the warnings, the bank's security had been breached before.
Entering the building, he was impressed by the grand interior. The lobby was illuminated by enormous crystal chandeliers hanging from the high vaulted ceiling. The marble floor gleamed with golden reflections, and the walls were adorned with intricate magical engravings and reliefs. Long, dark wooden tables lined the room, where stern-looking goblins counted coins, reviewed documents, and attended to the waiting wizards.
He approached one of the counters where a goblin with a calculating expression and intelligent eyes observed him. The goblin wore a black robe with golden adornments, and his long, thin fingers moved deftly over a ledger.
"Good morning," he said, trying to appear calm and confident. "I need to access my family's vault."
"Name," requested the goblin in a raspy voice.
"Eamon Thornwood," he replied, noting how the goblin scrutinized him with penetrating eyes before turning around and disappearing behind the table. He returned a few seconds later, accompanied by another goblin with a trimmed beard.
"Mr. Thornwood, do you have your key?" asked the new goblin, his eyes shining with poorly disguised curiosity.
Something was giving him a bad feeling. It seemed he had caught the attention of other goblins and the curiosity of some customers. "Here it is," he said, handing the golden key with intricate engravings.
The goblin took it, passing his long fingers and nails over the key. He nodded to the first goblin before saying, "Follow me, Mr. Thornwood."
They led him through one of the doors out of the lobby, but contrary to what he expected, he found himself in a white office with a black desk where another goblin, wearing a pointed hat, was writing in a large book. The goblin who had brought him here began making inhuman sounds, addressing the one at the desk while handing him the key. It seemed they were having a conversation.
The bearded goblin left, leaving him in the office without saying a word. Eamon's suspicion grew. He began to detail the office, trying to assess the situation. The room was decorated with various magical objects and scrolls, and tapestries depicting scenes of magic and wealth hung on the walls.
The goblin in the pointed hat looked up from the book, his small, bright eyes fixing on Eamon with an inscrutable expression. "Mr. Thornwood, we have reviewed your key. Everything seems to be in order," he said, his voice soft but with a tone of authority. "However, due to the nature of your request and recent activity in the vault, we need to confirm some additional details."
Eamon nodded, maintaining a neutral expression while his mind raced. "I understand. What details do you need to confirm?"
The goblin paused, studying him intently before responding. "We need to ensure that you are who you say you are and have legitimate rights to access the vault."
What do you need me to do?" Eamon asked, standing firm and alert.
The goblin pointed to an artifact on the desk: a crystal sphere with engraved runes that emitted a faint glow. He placed Eamon's key inside the sphere and said, "This artifact will determine if the vault is in a state of succession and if you have a legitimate claim to it. Please place your hand on the sphere."
Eamon observed the sphere closely, briefly concentrating on his sixth sense to determine if the artifact did what the goblin said. The frequencies emanating from the object were complex, an amalgam of intertwined sensations. He did not perceive the feeling of danger he had come to associate with dark magic but rather a constant and precise vibration indicative of ancient and structured magic. This reassured him slightly, though he remained alert to any changes.
With the reassurance that he did not perceive danger, Eamon placed his hand on the cold surface of the sphere. The runes began to glow more intensely, and a soft light enveloped his hand. After a few moments, the light faded, and the goblin nodded, apparently satisfied.
"The vault is in a state of succession, and your claim is legitimate, Mr. Thornwood. You may proceed to access it."
"Thank you," Eamon said, removing his hand from the sphere and retaking the key.
The goblin stood up and pointed to the exit. "Follow me, please. I will take you to the vault entrance."
"Excuse me, I didn't catch your name, Mr...," Eamon said as he followed the goblin through the corridors of Gringotts.
For a moment, he thought the goblin would not respond until he heard: "Gorbag."
"Is it normal procedure at the bank to verify everyone, Mr. Gorbag?" Eamon asked, maintaining a neutral tone.
Gorbag paused briefly and looked at him with an inscrutable expression before walking. "This case is particular. The last attempt to access that vault was peculiar. A wizard claimed it was his by right, and when he was denied access and asked to undergo an interrogation, he insulted us and disappeared."
As they spoke, they passed through the bank's corridors, surrounded by white marble walls and high ceilings. Their footsteps echoed in the vast lobby, mingling with the murmur of other clients and the clinking of coins and scrolls. They entered a large door and found themselves in a stone corridor lit by torches, where a rail cart awaited.
"Gringotts does not kindly take threats and insults," Gorbag continued. "Do you happen to know who that wizard was?"
Surprised but determined, Eamon replied firmly, "Unfortunately not, but rest assured, I will find out." Someone had tried to steal what was his, and he would not take this lightly either.
They boarded the cart, which started with a strong jolt and accelerated quickly as it delved into the dark, winding tunnels of Gringotts. Eamon felt the wind on his face and the vibration under his feet as the cart descended at great speed, illuminated only by the torches on the walls.
Suddenly, the cart passed through a magical waterfall called 'The Thief's Downfall.' Eamon thought of the name as the water drenched them, but thanks to an enchantment, they began to dry off within seconds.
"What was that?" Eamon asked, shaking the water from his robes.
Gorbag replied without looking at him. "The Thief's Downfall. The magical water washes away any enchantment or potion a thief might be using to try to steal. We make sure no one can hide their true nature here."
Finally, the cart stopped in front of a large wrought iron door decorated with intricate runes that glowed faintly under the bank's magical light. Gorbag got off and turned to Eamon, extending a hand towards the door.
"Vault 21," announced Gorbag. Then, he placed his entire palm on the door. The runes briefly illuminated before the door disappeared completely, revealing a dark passage leading to the bank's depths.
"Follow me carefully. The vault is a bit further inside," said Gorbag, advancing through the passage.
Eamon followed him, keeping his eyes alert and his senses sharp. Although he trusted his ability to handle any situation, he knew he needed to be prepared for anything.
Finally, they arrived at a second, smaller but equally robust door. Gorbag stopped again and pointed to a slot in the door.
"Please insert the key here," he indicated.
Eamon slid the key into the slot, and the door opened with the sound of moving gears. Entering the vault, his eyes met piles of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts scattered throughout the room.
"Can I have a moment alone?" Eamon asked.
Gorbag nodded and withdrew to the passage, leaving him alone.
Eamon walked determinedly to the back of the vault. He knew one of those piles was an illusion. Passing his hand through the pile on the right at the end, he saw his hand go through it. He smiled, satisfied with his knowledge, and stepped into the illusion, finding at least three shelves full of books.
He immediately felt the magic emanating from the tomes, a corrupted magic that flooded the place. 'Maybe Percival was right to leave them here,' Eamon thought as he assessed the situation. He wouldn't have time to review everything at that moment.
This hidden section contained what he had come to find. He would examine everything carefully, but for now, he needed to focus on storing the tomes Percival had left.
He placed his suitcase on the floor and opened it, beginning to levitate all the tomes and quickly store them. While performing this task, one title, in particular, caught his attention: "Secrets of the Darkest Arts... that's the Horcrux book," Eamon thought, incredulous that this tome was among so many others. It didn't speak well of the rest of the book's contents. His curiosity got the better, and he decided to set the book aside.
Eamon skimmed through the pages of "Secrets of the Darkest Arts." The magic described was horrifying, but his curiosity about reading what had helped turn Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort drove him on. He only skimmed the names of rituals and spells, each of which sent shivers down his spine, until he found the true purpose of his visit to the bank. Among the pages containing such malevolence, he saw the name of the spell 'Somnus Descensus.'
The book described 'Somnus Descensus' as an ancient spell used by those who wished to induce a deep sleep in their victims, a profound state in which even dreams were trapped in a limbo between life and death. The spell not only plunged the victim into an endless sleep but also left their soul and magic exposed, vulnerable to external manipulations.
The description continued detailing the wand movements needed to cast the spell: a series of complicated strokes in the air, forming a pattern similar to a spiral closing in on a central point. The caster's mental state was crucial; they had to focus on the desire to plunge the victim into a deep sleep, with intense concentration and an intention to manipulate comparable to that needed to cast the Imperius Curse. It required absolute concentration and the ability to impose one's will over the victim. Once cast correctly, the spell manifested as a beam of almost black-purple light, enveloping the victim and leaving them in a state of extreme vulnerability.
The effects of the spell were devastating. The victim fell into a sleep so deep it seemed impossible to break, and any attempt to wake them without the proper counter-curse resulted in irreparable damage, both physical and spiritual. Several documented cases were mentioned where victims had suffered permanent consequences from failed attempts to wake them.
The counter-curse, known as 'Somnus Revelare,' required great skill and a deep knowledge of the dark arts. The caster had to trace a reverse pattern to the original spell with the wand while maintaining a state of absolute calm and concentration. It was described as a delicate process, where the slightest error could result in the victim's death or, worse, cause the caster to suffer the exact effects of the curse. The spell manifested as a soft silver glow that had to completely envelop the victim, slowly undoing the effects of 'Somnus Descensus.'
He closed the book; his curiosity had led him to the answers he sought. He felt a chill run down his spine while storing the rest of the tomes in the suitcase. He knew he would have to review these books very carefully later, but for now, he had what he needed. With the book in hand, he should be able to learn and cast the counter-curse. However, he decided to take the rest of the books as well. Whoever had cast the curse had clearly delved deeply into the dark arts, and he would not be caught off guard.
As he closed the suitcase, he began to think about the mystery of his family's death. The portraits assured that no one knew where they were, yet they had been attacked. Could Voldemort have been responsible? After all, he must have known this spell if it was in that repugnant book. Since he knew which world he had been reincarnated in, he understood the great evil that wizards in Britain faced. However, it had not been a priority in his mind.
This was his second chance, a world where healing and discovering the mysteries of magic could be enough to motivate him for life. He didn't plan to actively participate in a war or in the protagonist's adventures in this world; he had his own demons to face. Eamon reflected that if he had the clear opportunity to save someone or help do the right thing, he would do so without hesitation. But for as long as he could, he would avoid the issue and focus on himself and those he had come to care for in this life.
He knew that ignoring the problems of this world was morally wrong; it was not what he would have done in his past life, but for the first time in his two lives, his priority was himself. If he couldn't find the peace he longed for in death, he would find it in this world. And yet, if Voldemort had eradicated his family, if he had been the one who tried to rob him, would that change anything for him? Would it change his resolution on how to face the events to come?
Eamon didn't know how to feel about it, but spending more time in this place wouldn't give him the solution. He already had everything he was looking for. He exited the vault as Gorbag guided him back to the surface. The cart ride was just as rough on the way up as it was on the way down; however, his mind remained immersed in the mystery of it all.
"Mr. Gorbag, would you mind sharing when this wizard attempted to rob me?" Eamon asked as he held onto the cart.
The goblin looked at him with annoyance before answering. "The summer of 1982, Mr. Thornwood."
"If you find him, bring him to Gringotts. Rest assured, there will be no worse punishment for him," Gorbag added with a cruel smile, showing his many sharp teeth.
Eamon nodded, processing the information and trying to piece together the puzzle. The rest of the journey was silent, with his thoughts still focused on the recent revelations. Upon reaching the surface, Eamon politely said goodbye to the goblin and headed towards Gringotts' exit.
With the suitcase securely in his hand, he made his way through Diagon Alley. The magic of the place was palpable, but his mind was too occupied to marvel at his surroundings. He headed straight for the alley's exit, determined to begin studying the dark secrets he had obtained.