Chapter 10: The Road to Gringotts
As the year passed, Harry continued to grow both in size and spirit. Now almost 10 years old, he had become more confident in his magical abilities, even though he still couldn't perform spells the way other children his age could. He was well on his way to understanding how to control his accidental magic, a feat that made Charles proud as he watched his nephew develop. Harry's intelligence had also blossomed further—he was an avid reader, devouring books on every subject. His quick mind and voracious appetite for learning kept him busy, but it was his friendships that brought him the most joy.
Harry had spent the past year surrounded by his growing circle of friends, each relationship deepening in its own way. He and Neville Longbottom had bonded even more, spending hours discussing everything from schoolwork to Quidditch, which had become a shared interest between them. Neville had proved to be a loyal and supportive friend, always ready for a challenge or a day of practice.
Blaise Zabini, the reserved heir to the Zabini family, had grown closer to Harry as well. The two boys often spent time together, discussing topics that Harry had never considered before, especially those related to high society and the concept of nobility. Blaise, with his refined manner and polite demeanor, had begun introducing Harry to the world of etiquette, teaching him how to navigate formal situations with ease. It wasn't long before Blaise had invited Harry to visit his family, and while Harry felt out of place at first, the experience had given him a glimpse into a world so different from his own. Harry was learning the value of manners, of being composed, and of understanding the delicate balance between power and grace.
Then there was Hermione Granger. The two of them had spent countless hours reading together, comparing notes on their studies, and enjoying their time at the Weasley household, and at Harry's home, or the Park, where they had made their first real introductions. It was clear that Hermione, a brilliant mind in her own right, was beginning to see Harry as a true friend.
However, there was one complication in Hermione's growing friendship with Harry: Ron Weasley. While Harry and Ron got along famously, Hermione and Ron's personalities clashed. Ron's casual nature and tendency to be outspoken often grated on Hermione's more precise and rule-abiding demeanor. The two had already started bickering at times, and though Harry did his best to mediate, there was little he could do to stop the sparks from flying when they disagreed. But despite the occasional arguments, Harry knew that their bond would endure—it was the natural ebb and flow of growing friendships.
Meanwhile, Ginny Weasley, who was just under a year younger than Harry, had begun to realize that Harry wasn't the character she had once imagined. At first, like her mother, she had only known him through the stories, and the idea of meeting him had always been almost too much to believe. But after spending more time with him, Ginny had begun to understand that Harry was simply another person, albeit one with a rather extraordinary background. She had stopped looking at him like a hero and started seeing him as just Harry—a boy who liked to play games, who laughed at jokes, and who got embarrassed when people brought up his fame. Ginny's youthful innocence and curiosity made her both brave and observant, and she was one of the few who had managed to shed the veil of awe that surrounded Harry's persona.
With time, Harry had even managed to ease Ginny's nerves around him, and though they were still young, Harry had become one of the few people who treated her like an equal rather than an extension of the Weasley family. The relationship between them was one of mutual respect and quiet understanding.
Preparing for the Heist: Charles's StrategyAs Harry's life continued to unfold, Charles's path had been a solitary one. His ongoing quest to destroy the Horcruxes had become a more pressing matter now that the pieces were finally falling into place. He had unlocked new abilities, honed his skills, and developed plans for retrieving the next crucial item in his mission: Hufflepuff's Cup, a relic of great importance, but also one that was highly protected.
Gringotts was Charles's target. Unlike the other Horcruxes, which had been hidden away by Tom Riddle in obscure places, the cup was safely nestled within the vaults of Gringotts, protected by layers of magical security and surveillance. Unlike the previous tasks, which had involved personal disguise and subterfuge, this one would require a combination of finesse and meticulous planning.
Charles sat in the study late at night, papers and magical scrolls scattered across the table in front of him. The task ahead loomed large in his mind. Gringotts wasn't a place one could simply walk into—its vaults were lined with advanced magical protections, including curses, traps, and wards designed to detect unauthorized entry. He would need to make his way past these obstacles, gain access to the right vault, and extract the cup without raising any suspicion.
The first step was preparing his disguise. He had already unlocked a series of abilities that would help him create a convincing persona, including subtle alterations to his physical features, his body language, and even his voice. These skills would allow him to blend in with the other wealthy clientele who frequented Gringotts, but Charles knew that his abilities would need to be fine-tuned for this mission. It wasn't enough to look the part—he had to become the part.
The System's guidance had already suggested a suitable persona: a rich foreign investor who had just acquired new properties in the magical community and was seeking to store his newly acquired treasures in a vault. Charles would use the skills of Illusory Alteration and Persona Projection to craft a convincing appearance, and he would rely on the Perception Masking technique to ensure that his new identity would hold up under magical scrutiny. The task now was to focus on perfecting this persona—he needed to be just another wealthy, well-to-do client in the eyes of the goblins.
Next came the more technical elements of his heist. Charles knew that Gringotts had an elaborate security system to guard against unwanted intruders, but his Stealth abilities would help him maneuver through the labyrinthine corridors and vaults without detection. The System had already given him the tools to bypass low-level enchantments and avoid attention, but Charles would need to stay sharp and constantly monitor his surroundings.
As he reviewed the map of Gringotts's vaults—retrieved from an old magical manuscript he had obtained—he mentally prepared himself for the upcoming journey. He would need to focus on subtlety above all else. If he raised any suspicion at all, it would be over before it began. Charles felt a surge of anticipation as he continued to fine-tune the details of his approach.
His first task was to book a meeting with the Gringotts representative. He knew the goblins had a well-organized system for managing their vaults, and while they were diligent, they were also predictable. Charles planned to slip into their system as a businessman, with a convincing story about needing a secure location to store his wealth. The System's ability to fine-tune his mannerisms and speech would prove invaluable here.
As he carefully laid out his plan, Charles knew that this task would require more than just illusion and stealth. It would require him to stay calm under pressure, to move like a shadow, and to blend into the labyrinth of vaults where danger could lurk behind every corner. But Charles was prepared. His abilities were sharpened, his resolve was steady, and the next piece of the puzzle was within reach.
The time had come for Charles to execute his plan. He was going to Gringotts to steal Hufflepuff's Cup—and he was going to succeed.
Charles stood at the gates of Gringotts, his pulse steady, every detail of his plan running through his mind. Today was the culmination of weeks of preparation—carefully honed skills, meticulously constructed identities, and well-executed plans that, if successful, would bring him closer to destroying one of Voldemort's Horcruxes: Hufflepuff's Cup.
He wasn't Charles Potter today. He wasn't the squib who had been dealt a harsh hand by the magical world. Today, he was Thaddeus Emory—a wealthy and influential foreign investor. Every detail of his appearance had been tailored to perfection: a tailored black suit, dark shoes that clicked softly on the stone floor, and a fine, leather briefcase that seemed to radiate wealth. His polished demeanor, cultivated with years of social manipulation, ensured that no one would suspect him as anything other than what he appeared to be.
Charles took a deep breath, his Persona Projection ability at the ready, ensuring his every action and expression aligned with the rich businessman he had become in the eyes of Gringotts' goblins. No one would suspect him of anything out of the ordinary. He was just another high-profile client seeking to secure his valuables.
As he walked into the grand lobby of Gringotts, the massive marble columns towering above him, the goblins at the front desk eyed him with their usual suspicion, but Charles kept his gaze steady and unflinching. Perception Masking softened his presence, ensuring the goblins didn't see the man they might have otherwise noticed. He wasn't there for anything suspicious, wasn't here to make trouble. He was a respected businessman—and that would be enough to get him through.
The goblin clerk, an older one with a sharp nose and even sharper eyes, briefly regarded Charles before speaking.
"Good day, Mr. Emory. How can we assist you today?" the goblin asked in a clipped tone.
Charles smiled, using his Persona Projection to give a slight nod of recognition, the weight of his assumed status settling comfortably around him.
"I've come to view and retrieve some of my more valuable items," Charles said, his accent smooth and dignified, exactly how Thaddeus Emory would speak. "I trust my vault has been prepared."
"Very well," the goblin replied, eying him carefully. "Please follow me."
Charles followed the goblin down one of the many winding corridors, his steps quiet as they echoed against the polished stone floor. As he walked, he kept his posture upright and relaxed, blending in seamlessly. His disguise had to be perfect—every movement, every glance needed to reinforce the persona of an important man used to moving in circles like this.
The goblin led him to a large vault area deep beneath the bank, opening the thick iron door of a smaller vault with a series of precise motions, muttering in a language Charles couldn't understand. The door creaked open, and Charles stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning the space. Vaults at Gringotts weren't just secured with physical barriers; they were surrounded by magical protections, each one more complicated than the last. But Charles had already been briefed by the Guardian System, which had provided him with everything he needed to bypass these safeguards. All he had to do was keep his wits about him.
The goblin stepped aside, nodding curtly to Charles. "Your items are within, Mr. Emory. I'll wait here."
Charles gave him a polite smile, pretending to be busy as he rifled through the various items inside the vault—an expensive way of keeping the goblin occupied while he prepared to make his move. In truth, his mind was already far beyond this simple distraction. He had a job to do, and the real treasure wasn't the vault's contents; it was in a vault much deeper in the bank—the Lestrange Vault.
As the goblin continued to monitor him from the doorway, Charles used his Stealth ability to move subtly. The goblin's attention wavered. He glanced away for just a moment, distracted by something down the hall, allowing Charles to activate Sleep Inducement.
In a flash, the goblin's eyelids fluttered, his shoulders sagged slightly, and within moments, he collapsed, completely unconscious. Charles had taken extra care to make sure the goblin wasn't harmed in any way—he couldn't afford to leave any evidence of foul play.
Now that the goblin was out of the picture, Charles immediately slipped into the next phase of the plan. The Stealth ability guided his movements with uncanny precision, allowing him to move like a shadow in the dimly lit vault, blending with his surroundings as if he were one with the air itself. He was invisible to the world around him, and for the moment, no one could see him.
The vaults beneath Gringotts were a labyrinth, a maze of iron doors and unyielding stone corridors, lined with layers of ancient magic that hummed in the air like an unseen force. Charles' heart pounded in his chest as he moved silently through the twisting halls, his body a blur of controlled motion, aided by his Stealth ability. His breaths were shallow, measured—each one timed perfectly to prevent the slightest hint of noise, the smallest betrayal of his presence.
He had done the hard part—the goblin had been dispatched, its slumber induced with surgical precision. But now, as he stood before the imposing vault door of the Lestrange family, he felt a cold shiver of unease creep down his spine. There was something about this vault that felt… wrong. The wards and runes carved into the stone glowed ominously, as though they were alive, eager to protect the secrets held within.
But Charles was ready. He could feel the presence of the Rune Mimicry ability activating as his fingers brushed against the cold surface of the door. It wasn't magic in the traditional sense—he wasn't casting a spell, but the system had provided him with all the tools necessary to interpret and mimic the effects of complex magical symbols.
The door clicked open with a faint grinding sound, and Charles' eyes locked on the object that had haunted his thoughts for years—the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, sitting atop a shelf bathed in dim, golden light. The cursed object pulsed with dark energy, as though it recognized his approach, but Charles could not afford to hesitate. He reached for it with swift, decisive movements, tucking it securely into his pouch.
For a fleeting moment, he felt the weight of the Cup's dark power against his side—a reminder of the twisted history it carried, the fragments of Voldemort's soul sealed within. The thought was unsettling, but Charles quickly pushed it aside. This was no time for doubt. The Horcrux was in his possession, and that was all that mattered.
But as his hand brushed against the pouch, something nagged at the back of his mind. A sense of danger. He froze. Something wasn't right.
He couldn't put his finger on it, but the sinking feeling in his gut only deepened as he turned back to leave the vault. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a sudden chill that seemed to freeze the air itself. The wards he had bypassed—had they been reset? Was the vault now alert?
No. He couldn't take the risk. Not now.
His instincts screamed at him to leave, but Charles hesitated only for a moment before pushing forward. His Stealth ability was in full effect now, allowing him to glide silently through the vault's corridor, but that feeling of danger only grew stronger as he neared the exit. He started towards the corridor leading to the vault where he had left the goblin—the unconscious creature still lying motionless on the floor of the vault.
The tension was unbearable. Charles' footsteps echoed in his ears as he exited the Lestrange vault, but just as he was about to round the corner, a sound split the air—sharp and sudden—a loud crack. The vault door behind him slammed shut.
He stopped, breath caught in his throat.
That had not been part of the plan.
A thin layer of sweat formed on his brow as he spun around, hands shaking only slightly. The walls, once silent, now hummed with a low, reverberating pulse—an indication that the wards had indeed been triggered. Someone had noticed him. The system's guidance was immediate: he needed to erase all traces of his presence.
No time to waste.
Charles made a sharp turn back toward the vault where the goblin lay unconscious. He hadn't been prepared for something like this, but while the Stealth ability had granted him the perfect cover for the moment, now it was time for a more dangerous approach.
The goblin, still sprawled on the floor, was blissfully unaware. A wave of panic threatened to overtake him, but Charles held it at bay. The System, perhaps sensing his fear, provided a new skill:
Temporary Skill Unlocked: (One-time-use Only) Memory Manipulation.
He breathed in relief, his blessed system had assisted him in his time of need. With a deep breath, he activated the ability, focusing intently on the goblin's mind. The skill wasn't perfect—he had to tread carefully, too much interference could risk the goblin waking up with fragmented memories of the events, but he had no choice. The system guided him through the process as if it were second nature, offering the insight he needed to manipulate the creature's mind.
The goblin's eyes fluttered, and its breath grew shallow as Charles worked—one moment, the goblin was lying in the vault, unknowing, and the next, the system reformed its memories. A false recollection formed—one that the goblin would believe wholeheartedly. It was as if nothing had ever happened. The goblin would remember escorting Charles into the vault and simply taking a brief moment to check a few items before returning to his station. Nothing more.
As the spell took hold, the goblin's unconscious expression softened, its breathing stabilizing.
Done.
Charles could feel the energy of the task recede from his mind. His heart was still hammering in his chest, but there was no time for relief. The goblin would remain asleep, his memory altered, and Charles would walk away undetected.
He exhaled, slowly, carefully.
Turning away from the vault, he moved toward the exit with a newfound urgency. He had completed the most difficult part of the plan, but now he had to leave Gringotts without raising any suspicion.
His mind raced as he retraced his steps through the halls. The tension was unbearable now—each step seemed to echo too loudly in the silence of the vault corridors. Every creak of the stone beneath his feet, every fleeting movement, felt like it could give him away.
The pressure was mounting. Time was running out.
But just as he rounded the corner leading to the main floor, he froze.
A pair of goblins were standing at the base of the stairs. They were talking in low voices, unaware of Charles' presence. But now he was in their line of sight. He couldn't afford to draw attention.
Stealth.
The ability kicked in immediately, and Charles' body was cloaked in a veil of invisibility. The goblins' conversation continued, their voices low and unintelligible, as he moved past them without making a sound. Every nerve in his body was alert, every muscle coiled in readiness for the slightest threat. He moved like a shadow, his breathing shallow, his body tensed for any sudden movement.
The main lobby of Gringotts was ahead. Just a few more steps, and Charles could exit the bank without incident. The heavy doors loomed ahead of him, the final obstacle in his path.
But just as he neared the door, the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. A pair of security wizards were coming down the corridor from the atrium.
Charles froze, pulse quickening.
His options were few, but his mind was already calculating. There was no time to wait for them to pass. If they spotted him, everything would be ruined. He had to act, and act fast. Charles pressed himself flat against the stone wall, his body melting into the shadows as the two security wizards passed by without even a hint of suspicion.
The seconds stretched like hours, but the wizards continued on their path, oblivious. Charles' heart was pounding in his chest, but he allowed himself a brief moment to breathe. He had done it.
Now, with the Cup secured and his path clear, he moved swiftly toward the exit.
As he stepped into the daylight of Diagon Alley, he let out a long, slow breath of relief. His body ached from the tension, his pulse still racing in his veins. The job wasn't done—he still needed to destroy the Cup, to obliterate this piece of Voldemort's soul. But for now, he had completed his task.
He had gotten in. He had gotten out. And he had succeeded.