The days following the Triwizard Tournament left Harry reeling. Cedric's death was a bitter reminder of how close he'd come to losing everything, and Voldemort's rebirth echoed in his thoughts. But there was one thing on his mind that couldn't wait—a letter from Gringotts, cryptic and slightly ominous, stating simply: "You have come of age."

It was strange; he'd only just turned fourteen, hardly an adult. But this was goblin business, and Harry knew better than to dismiss their summons lightly.

With Professor Dumbledore's reluctant approval, he headed to Diagon Alley under strict supervision, escorted by Tonks, who'd volunteered to accompany him for "a spot of shopping," or so she said with a wink. The inside of Gringotts was quiet, and the goblins' sharp eyes tracked his every move as he approached the grand counter.

"Harry Potter," he said, trying not to let his nerves show.

A tall goblin with a deep scar across his face bowed slightly. "Mr. Potter, welcome. I am Griphook. Come, there are matters to discuss."

Griphook led him down a dimly lit hallway to a private chamber, where scrolls, parchments, and a small set of ledgers were neatly arranged on a table. It was then Harry noticed the emblem stamped on one of the documents: The House of Potter.

"Mr. Potter, the recent events at the Triwizard Tournament have activated several protections and rights that belonged to you but lay dormant until… shall we say, a trial by fire? Traditionally, many wizarding families inherit their wealth and estates through bloodline rites. When you survived the third task, those rites recognized you."

Harry blinked, trying to process everything. "So... what does that mean?"

Griphook's mouth twisted into what might have been a goblin's version of a smile. "Simply put, Mr. Potter, you are now the full and legal heir of the Potter legacy. You've inherited not only the vaults but also certain estates and responsibilities. Additionally, there are accounts of interest, artifacts, and... other matters."

Harry's mind spun. Estates? Artifacts? What kind of life had his parents left behind for him?

"We should begin with the vaults," Griphook continued. "Your family held more than just one vault. The one you've used is but a trust fund, meant for education and personal expenses. However, there are two others—the main family vault and an artifact vault."

"An artifact vault?" Harry echoed, suddenly very curious.

"Yes. Items deemed too dangerous or precious were stored there by your ancestors. Some may be useful to you... or vital in other ways. Given recent events, it may be worth examining."

With Griphook leading the way, Harry descended deeper into Gringotts, further than he'd ever gone. They arrived at an imposing door engraved with a phoenix and stag, intertwined—a tribute, perhaps, to his parents.

Inside, the vault was filled with more gold than he'd ever imagined, along with shelves laden with heirlooms, documents, and a few items encased in glass. One object drew his attention—a small, sleek amulet with a bright, almost ethereal gleam.

"That," said Griphook, noticing Harry's gaze, "is an amulet crafted to enhance magical focus. It amplifies spells, especially protective ones. Your father acquired it shortly after marrying your mother, for her protection."

Harry picked it up carefully, slipping it over his neck. The amulet felt warm against his skin, resonating with his heartbeat, a comforting reminder of his parents' legacy.

For hours, Harry and Griphook pored over the vault's treasures, from journals to family relics, learning bits and pieces about the Potters' history. When they finally emerged from the vault, Harry felt as if he'd discovered an entire new side of his heritage, a part of himself he'd never known.

And though he was still young, he felt older somehow, standing a little taller. He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, but now, he was something more—an heir, a protector, and a link in a line of powerful wizards who'd come before him.