"So, since we're apparently trading plans…" Sirius began, clearly trying to sound casual, "remember how I mentioned the goblins might assist me in formalising my status as the official Lord Black? Well, they've extended an invitation for me to visit at my convenience. And since I'd like you to accompany me, would you be up for a trip to Gringotts now?"

"Right now?" Harry echoed in surprise.

Sirius grinned, nodding eagerly. "Why not? We've got the whole day ahead of us, and it might be interesting to see what the goblins have in store."

Harry nodded, seeing no reason to argue. "Okay, but why specifically me? What's so important about my being there?"

Sirius' expression softened, a serious tone entering his voice. "Well, Harry, that's something else I've been meaning to discuss with you. It's about why I want you to accompany me to Gringotts."

Harry settled for raising an eyebrow, waiting for Sirius to continue.

"I want to make you the Heir of House Black," Sirius said, his gaze steady as he met Harry's eyes. "With everything that's happened, I want to ensure that the Malfoys or anyone else won't be able to lay claim to what's left of my family's resources."

"Will I need to do anything as heir?"

Chuckling, he waved away Harry's concerns, "Basically just don't try to kill me. You're already in my will to inherit everything I own or can lay claim to, have been since you were born. But if you're the heir, there's no way for what remains of my family to contest the will, even if I've tried to make it uncontestable anyway."

"Alright then, I'll just have to do my best to resist the urge to kill you then."

"That's the spirit!" Sirius barked excitedly, jumping to his feet. "Accio coat! Oi, Sturgis," he called out to the elderly Order member, who was meant to be on guard but was instead half asleep in the living room. "Me and Harry are going out to the bank for a bit. We'll be back by lunch."

"Huh, what's that?" Sturgis muttered groggily, his eyelids heavy as he struggled to rouse himself from his drowsiness.

"Hmm, yeah, I'll let people know," he mumbled, his words slurring together as another yawn escaped him. With a half-hearted attempt to straighten up, he feigned alertness before succumbing to the temptation of sleep, his head nodding forward as he drifted back into a doze.

Gracing Harry with a wide grin, Sirius led him to the front before and reached into the folds of his robes, producing a small, ornate pendant dangling from a silver chain. "Here, you'll like this."

Curiosity piqued, Harry leaned in closer, his gaze fixated on the intricate design of the pendant. "What is it?"

"This is a family heirloom, passed down through generations of the Black family." He held it up for Harry to see, the pendant gleaming softly in the dim light of Grimmauld Place. "I found it when I raided my dad's study when I was just older than you."

"What does it do?" Harry asked, reaching out to touch the cool metal.

"It's a bit like polyjuice potion, but more... refined," Sirius explained, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the surface of the pendant. "With just a drop of someone's blood, I can take on some physical traits of that person on command."

Harry's eyes widened in amazement. "That's incredible! How does it work?"

Sirius shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Magic, I suppose. Ancient Black family magic, to be precise."

"And you've used it before?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"How do you think I managed to avoid the Aurors so well? I wouldn't be very good if people had this handsome mug to look at." Sirius laughed, waving a hand over his face.

As Sirius laughed, he waved a hand over his face. In that instant, Harry watched in astonishment as Sirius's features began to shift and transform. His once youthful countenance morphed, lines etching themselves across his face, and his hair greying at the temples.

There was a brief glow emanating from the pendant around Sirius's neck, casting an ethereal light as the transformation took hold. And when it faded, Harry found himself staring at a new version of his godfather – one older, more weathered, but with a steely determination burning in his eyes.

It was as if Sirius had stepped out of a different time, a different world altogether. The resemblance was uncanny, yet there was something distinctly unfamiliar about the man before him.

He certainly wouldn't be able to easily identify the man as Sirius Black, the escaped prisoner. Not without carefully dissecting his appearance.

"How come I've never heard of something like this before?" Harry asked incredulously.

Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. He'd invested considerable time attempting to replicate Tonks' metamorphmagus ability, just to discover that Sirius possessed something that achieved the same effect effortlessly.

"Probably because it only works for the Black family. This pendant just activates the metamorphmagus gene in our blood, and without that gene, it's useless." Sirius explained, adopting an air of superiority.

"So, what if someone could make something that could change your appearance… without the Black genes?"

"You'd struggle to get it to work without the gene." Sirius said, deflating slightly at Harry's lack of response.

Grinning, Harry used his Mutatio watch to change his appearance, taking on his usual brown-haired disguise.

"Impressive," Sirius mused, his grin widening. "But that doesn't mean anything. You've probably got enough Black blood in you to make it work regardless. Give it to a Muggleborn, see if it still does the trick, then I'll be impressed."

"Do you know how long it took me to get it this far? There's no way it's just some old gene in my blood that makes it work," Harry refuted, shaking his head as he let his disguise shimmer away.

Sirius laughed, clapping Harry on the back. "And that's why you're so special, Harry!"

"Thank you… Wait, do you mean like the good special, or the bad special?... Sirius, the good or the bad special!"

Laughing, Sirius pulled Harry into a side hug before shouting "Up up and away!" and apparating them away.

Apparition with Sirius, Harry learned, was far worse than the times Dumbledore had taken him, which was already a low bar. It wasn't just the unsettling feeling of being squeezed through a tight tube; it was the added element of Sirius's reckless enthusiasm.

As they materialised in a narrow alleyway, Harry felt as though he had been pulled apart and hastily reassembled. His limbs tingled with a disconcerting numbness, and he staggered slightly, trying to regain his balance.

Sirius, however, seemed unfazed, his grin wider than ever.

"Fun, isn't it?" Sirius exclaimed, clapping Harry on the back.

Harry managed a weak smile, trying to steady his breathing. "Yeah, a real blast," he replied, fighting the desire to be sick.

"Where are we?" Harry finally asked, glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, feeling disoriented and out of place.

"Just around the corner of an old entrance to Diagon Alley. I didn't think it was worth trying my luck through the Leaky."

With that, Sirius led him out of the alleyway and onto a cobbled street, where Harry caught a glimpse of the shimmering waters of the Thames.

"Wait, why are we near the river?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as they stepped onto the winding road.

"Ah, that's just Diagon Alley's space distortion magic," Sirius replied dismissively, gesturing towards the water. "This used to be the heart of magical London, when the river Thames used to flow alongside the streets of Diagon Alley."

"What changed then?"

"The Statute of Secrecy, mainly," Sirius explained. "It became very difficult to send ships down the river without the Muggles noticing, so the old Portally docks closed down. Ah, here we are!"

They approached what seemed like a dead-end alleyway, with walls that appeared to be slowly shifting and bending, creating an optical illusion that made it seem as though the alley was curving ahead of them.

"Sirius, do you see that?" Harry asked, pointing towards the seemingly endless dead-end.

Sirius nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "Keep walking, Harry. You'll see."

As they walked, the walls seemed to twist and turn, the optical illusion becoming more pronounced with each step.

Then, just as Harry was sure they'd walk right into the wall, the dead-end quietly fell away. In its place emerged a clear street and rows of shops, and the unmistakable sounds of Diagon Alley stretching out before them.

Grinning in amazement, Harry spun around and was easily able to see the Thames river behind them, despite the circular path it had felt like they'd gone down.

As Harry decided if it was worth further investigating the seamless transition between Muggle London and the Wizarding street, Sirius clapped him on the back, a proud grin on his unfamiliar face.

"Yes yes, it's all very technical!" Sirius said, "But we aren't here to look at some old entrance. Besides, you'll probably like where we are going anyway."

Curiosity piqued, Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"We're heading to a special entrance to Gringotts. It's a bit more exclusive than the main entrance further down in the alley. Used mainly by the high-placed nobles."

"Really? I had no idea there was another entrance."

"Most people don't," Sirius nodded, leading Harry down a smaller side street. "But that's what makes it special. People like my grandfather liked to feel special, and waiting in line behind the common folk always put a damper on that."

"How many entrances to Gringotts are there?"

"A fair few. I think Diagon alone has three or four, counting this one. Obviously there's the main entrance, then Knockturn Alley has its own access. There used to be an entrance up in Scotland, just South of Hogwarts, but the last goblin rebellion closed that one up for good."

Nodding, Harry looked up, and realised he finally knew where they were within the awakening alley. The shop fronts were becoming familiar, leading up to Ollivander's store, where he made a snap decision to pull Sirius inside.

The tinkling bell announced their arrival to the dusty interior, prompting Mr. Ollivander to step out from behind a shelf, his sharp eyes flicking over them with keen interest.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, exactly when I expected." Mr. Ollivander greeted, before he turned to the disguised Sirius. "However, I do not believe we've met, sir."

But as he looked at Sirius, the man's kindly smile faded away. "You are carrying, I believe, a Blackthorn wand, with a Dragon heartstring core. A wand that I sold to Sirius Black… A wand that should still be held by the Ministry."

Harry felt a jolt of surprise shoot through him, his mind racing to make sense of Ollivander's words. Especially as Sirius tensed beside him, which caused Mr. Ollivander to back further into his store.

"Mr. Ollivander, we…" Harry began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. "Sirius isn't a danger to you."

Ollivander, sensing he wasn't in immediate danger, regarded Harry with a furrowed brow, his sharp eyes flicking between him and Sirius. "Mr. Potter," he began, his voice betraying a hint of concern, "may I inquire as to why you have brought…" He hesitated, his gaze settling on Sirius, "…him into my store?"

"Basically, I didn't realise you would recognise him." Harry answered smoothly, trying desperately to project a sense of calm, "Honestly, I'd have made him wait outside. I'd just like to register this wand as mine, since the Ministry said I needed to, then we'll be gone."

Ollivander, still regarding Sirius, seemed to consider Harry's explanation. After a moment, he nodded slowly, his expression softening slightly. "I see," he said, his tone thoughtful. "You were unaware of the potential consequences of bringing him here…"

Harry nodded, relieved that Ollivander seemed to be understanding. "Exactly," he replied, grateful for the wandmaker's leniency. "So we'll just register the wand and be on our way, then?"

Ollivander nodded again, his gaze shifting to the wand clutched in Sirius's hand. "Very well," he said, gesturing toward the counter where a dusty book creaked open. "If you would, Mr. Potter."

Sirius wisely chose to take a seat by the door, even going so far as to partially turn his back on the pair. The dim light of the shop cast long shadows across his face, which hardly helped his case.

But, Ollivander still gently took Dumbledore's old wand from Harry, muttering under his breath before giving it a wave. To Harry's surprise, the wand barely reacted, its once-familiar hum reduced to a mere whisper. Ollivander, however, seemed unperturbed, nodding in understanding.

"I must say, I never expected to see this wand again," the wandmaker mused, his voice soft but tinged with curiosity. He'd barely let the wand drop into a golden scale before he was scooping it up again, handing it back to Harry with a flourish.

"Gregorovitch wands are generally more… spirited, than I'd like. And if you consider the loyalty of Hornbeam well… Albus must think very highly of you, boy, for his wand to consider you its master."

Carefully sliding his wand back into its holder, Harry could only shrug. "I like to hope so. Well, thank you Mr. Ollivander, is that it then?"

"Yes yes, that's all I need from you for registering that wand… Although I do have another matter I feel needs your involvement. Assuming you have the time?" Mr. Ollivander replied, finally starting to sound like his usual self.

Gracing Sirius with a look, Harry made sure his godfather wasn't in a rush before committing to anything.

"Yeah, we've got time." Sirius called, before wincing as Ollivander jumped in fear, and turned back to counting the woodwork.

"Right… Right, well Mr. Potter, when we last met, I'd known your old wand wasn't long for you, which you may remember? Well, I set about trying to divine a new wand for you, fruitless though my efforts were. No doubt, it was because fate already had plans for your wand.

"However, I was able to divine enough to make something special. I'll be back in just a moment!"

With that, Ollivander disappeared into the depths of his shop, leaving Harry and Sirius to exchange curious glances. Moments later, he returned, holding in his hands a wand unlike any Harry had ever seen.

"This, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, his voice filled with reverence, "is a wand made from ironwood and Arctic Wyrm heartstring."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the wand's appearance. It was far thicker and shorter than the wands Ollivander typically crafted, but there was an undeniable sense of power emanating from it.

"It's... different," Harry remarked, turning the strange wand over in his hands.

"Yes, indeed," Ollivander agreed, his gaze intense. "It is not of my usual make, but I felt guided to craft it in this manner. There is something special about this wand, Mr. Potter, something that I was permitted to make, but not to understand."

Giving the wand a wave, Harry struggled to form a proper spell with the thing, but he undeniably felt a connection building with the wand. He wasn't sure why he needed to have it, but if even Mr. Ollivander couldn't figure out the reasons, Harry was content to just go along with it.

"Well, I'll be sure to try and figure it out." Harry said, primarily for Mr. Ollivander's sake. "How much for it?"

"Ah… Well, that I've been pondering. I cannot, in good conscience, take money for a wand I know will not work best for you. However, the material costs were not modest." Ollivander paused, his hands wringing in uncertainty as he struggled to find the right words.

Before Harry could respond, Sirius interjected, his voice firm and determined. "I'll cover the cost," he declared, reaching into his robes to produce a small bag of Galleons. "Consider it a gift for Harry's birthday."

Ollivander's eyes widened in surprise at Sirius's offer, but there was a flicker of alarm behind them. The idea of accepting money from Sirius was clearly making Ollivander feel uneasy, likely as if he were making a deal with the devil.

Which given the way Sirius was now grinning, half shrouded in shadow, was not an inaccurate similarity.

"Ah, Mr. Black, that is most... unexpected," Ollivander replied apprehensively. "I appreciate your generosity, but I must insist that I cannot accept payment from you."

"No can do, I'm afraid. I'll be paying the full amount. If you want, consider the difference as a thank you for keeping quiet about my identity."

Hissing in agitation, Ollivander raised his chin stubbornly, before wilting under Sirius' gaze. "You want me to take a bribe?" He finally choked out.

"If you want to call it that." Sirius shrugged, withdrawing a stack of galleons from the money bag and stacking them on the counter. "Although as bribes go, this is hardly the worst I could ask of you."

"And how would you have me report my newfound income?" Ollivander asked acidly, now glaring at the coins on his counter.

"Couldn't you just say I paid you in full for the wand?" Harry wondered, trying to ignore the betrayed looked Mr. Ollivander sent him.

Sensing they'd probably overstated they're welcome, Harry glanced at Sirius, trying to silently communicate his desire to depart as quickly as possible.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, for your assistance," Harry said politely. "We appreciate your time."

Ollivander nodded stiffly, his expression shifting to a mixture of relief and lingering suspicion. "Of course, Mr. Potter. If you ever require my services again, you know where to find me… Mr. Black."

Sirius returned the man's curt nod in acknowledgement, before turning to follow Harry out the door, into the now bustling street of Diagon Alley.

With a shared sigh, Harry and Sirius exchanged a knowing glance, before Sirius smiled wildly. "Well, that went well! Come on, let's not risk any more detours."

As Sirius and Harry approached the entrance, Harry was rather underwhelmed by the simple wooden door nestled inconspicuously between unnoteworthy stores. Without any ornate carvings or elaborate designs, it seemed like any other door one might find in a quiet alleyway.

If it weren't for the faded brass sign with the Gringotts logo, Harry would've been sure Sirius was playing an elaborate prank. However, pushing it open revealed a surprisingly bright and spacious room.

Above them, a grand glass dome allowed plenty of natural light to flood the area, illuminating the plush armchairs and elegant side tables scattered around, and one lone teller's desk.

The result was a rather hushed and serene atmosphere, a stark contrast to the bustling main lobby of Gringotts.

Harry took in the understated elegance of the room, noting they were alone bare the teller and a board guard in the corner. "It's... cosy," he noted quietly.

"Exactly," Sirius nodded, approaching the teller's desk. "And it's usually much quieter than the main lobby. Less waiting, more personal service."

As if he hadn't clearly noticed their arrival, goblin took his time before glancing up from behind the desk, his sharp eyes appraising them with a mixture of curiosity and professionalism. "Good morning, welcome to Gringotts" he grunted, its voice low and gravelly. "How may we assist you today?"

"I was told Gringotts would be of assistance in granting me Lordship over my House." Sirius replied, carefully enunciating each word.

"And may I know the name of this House?" The teller inquired, in a tone of clear boredom.

"House Black."

The goblin teller nodded at the guard stationed in the corner, who, to Harry's alarm, surreptitiously approached the entrance and locked it with practised ease.

Despite the simple door having only a modest keyhole, it emitted a surprisingly thunderous clang as it locked shut, the sound resonating through the otherwise tranquil room, sending a shiver down Harry's spine.

"We must ask at this point that all guests remove any disguise or illusion. As always, we at Gringotts will respect our guests' privacy, and will ensure the utmost discretion." The goblin stated firmly, now looking pointedly at Sirius.

Shrugging, Sirius tapped his pendant, removing his disguise and returning to his youthful appearance. Harry was greatly relieved when the teller didn't react at all, until the goblin turned to address him.

"All illusions please, sir." The teller reaffirmed.

Fumbling, Harry looked at Sirius in confusion. He was sure he hadn't accidentally disguised himself, and the goblin's stare was getting to him.

"I'm not under a disguise." Harry tried, wondering what the plan was if the goblins turned violent.

"Indeed, sir. However, your arm, I believe, is under an illusion." the teller clarified, his tone conveying a subtle but clear warning.

"Oh." Harry said dumbly, reaching out to tap his wrist with his free hand. The illusion wavered for a moment before dissipating, revealing the mithril prosthetic arm beneath.

The goblin's eyes narrowed slightly at the sight, his demeanour shifting slightly, becoming a tad more polite.

"Very well then. Gringotts greets you, Mr. Black, Lord Potter. If you'd like to follow me, we can continue your business in a more preferable location."

Their goblin guide led Harry and Sirius through a labyrinth of corridors that seemed to twist and turn, much like the walls of the alleyway they had entered from. Of course, the streets of Diagon Alley would never gleam as brightly as Gringotts, and there was a constant sense of quiet wealth that the goblins had long perfected.

And with each step, Harry felt the magic of Gringotts judging him. Much like Hogwarts, Gringotts had always had a majestic presence, an archaic magic that belonged to the building instead of an individual.

But in the past, the magic of Gringotts had felt little more than a living ward, insignificant to what Hogwarts had to offer. But now, even the outer reaches of the building had a clear beating heart, a constant pulse of magic Harry could feel washing over him.

As they traversed the corridors, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Worst of all, was how territorial the magic felt. Hogwarts welcomed everyone into her halls, but Gringotts was another beast entirely. The magical presence of Gringotts seemed to weigh heavily on him, scrutinising his every move.

Glancing at Sirius, Harry noticed a subtle shift in his demeanour. The usually confident and carefree man had hunched over, his eyes darting around the corridors, slowly gaining a haunted look.

"Has Gringotts improved its defences recently?" Harry asked their guide, who glanced dismissively at him.

After a prolonged silence where the goblin studiously ignored his question, the goblin abruptly stopped before a pair of towering double doors intricately adorned with golden motifs. Without a word, the goblin pushed the doors open, revealing a lavish office beyond.

The room was opulently furnished, with plush leather chairs arranged around a polished mahogany desk. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of goblin history and triumph.

As Harry and Sirius entered, the goblin gestured for them to take a seat before the desk, then with a curt nod, retreated, leaving them alone in the elegant chamber.

Being left waiting for several minutes did little to calm Harry's nerves, to say nothing of Sirius. Harry was actually growing quite concerned for the man, who'd begun to slowly rock in his chair.

Finally, the door creaked open, and a goblin strolled into the room. She was dressed in practical attire, wearing a sturdy work shirt and trousers under her burnt leather apron. As she hung up her apron on a hook by the door, Harry recognised her with a start.

"Lord Potter," She greeted him in a monotone voice, nodding to him in recognition. "It's been some time."

"Likewise… I wouldn't have thought you'd be involved in the Black family." Harry replied, trying to hide the fact he'd forgotten her name. Visually, he knew who she was, but putting a name to her face was proving tricky.

"You'd have thought correctly; I am not here for Mr. Black," the goblin agreed as she took a seat across from Harry. "I am, however, your designated personal manager here at Gringotts, tasked with ensuring your needs are met efficiently and effectively. So, as you are here, I am here."

Leaning forward, Sirius frowned between Harry and the goblin. "So, you two know each other then?"

"Yeah, I came here last year to ask about some magical stuff," Harry explained. "And I got to see how goblin silver was fashioned by this Master Maker."

"Ah, I see," Sirius responded, catching on. "But I thought we were brought here for my matter…"

Maker Grukkukt frowned dismissively. "You will be given time for your own business here, Mr. Black, fear not. Now, I am Maker Grukkukt, master of the foundries, fourth in authority here at Gringotts. And, as Lord Potter is considered of greater priority, he shall be spoken to first."

"Fine, sorry for talking." Sirius replied grouchily, throwing his hands up and slumping back into his chair.

"What business do you have with me, then?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"That will depend upon how much time you have. I would give you a full tour of our expanded facilities, or if your time is limited, I could suffice with simply updating you upon how your initial investment has matured."

"Erm… I don't know how much time we've got. As Sirius said, we came here for him, so…"

"Mr. Black's business can be concluded swiftly and efficiently by one of our associates," Maker Grukkukt declared, her tone firm but not unkind. "We can arrange to pick him up once we've completed our tour, should that suit your schedule, Lord Potter."

Harry glanced at Sirius, who sighed and nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. Taking a moment to ensure Sirius was okay with the arrangement, Harry turned back to Maker Grukkukt. "Yes, that would be fine."

"Excellent," Maker Grukkukt agreed briskly. With a deft movement, she grasped a brass speaking tube adorned with intricate runes and issued a command in the guttural language of the goblins.

Shortly after, a soft knock sounded from the entrance they'd used, and Maker Grukkukt nodded towards it.

"Your companion will be taken care of," she assured Harry. "Now, if you'll follow me, Lord Potter, we shall begin our tour."

Harry exchanged a quick look with Sirius, as his godfather followed the goblin associate out the door. Maker Grukkukt gestured for Harry to follow her through another doorway, leading them deeper into the maze-like corridors of Gringotts.

It didn't take them long to arrive at a pair of grand mithril doors adorned with intricate engravings. The engravings alone were a clear work of art, depicting an army of heavily armoured goblins, each one drawn in perfect realism.

Upon reaching the doors, Grukkukt stepped forward and uttered a series of commands. Harry watched in fascination as the goblins hidden within the mechanisms responded to her instructions, gears grinding and steam hissing as they prepared to open the doors.

The sound of steam engines rumbling to life filled the air, emitting a deep boom that shook Harry to his core.

As the doors began to creak open, Harry gazed at them amazed. There was a sense of power behind those doors that made him feel quite small, and he wasn't thrilled at the idea of those doors sealing shut behind him.

"This is the entrance to the heart of Gringotts," Grukkukt explained, her tone tinged with pride. "Few wizards have ever been allowed to venture this far, and you are the first to see this gate.

"They were forged from pure Meithralum, with a dozen of my best makers working together to complete. The Meithralum is then plated around a core of bismuth-titanate and reinforced with ironwood."

"What's bismuth-titanate?" Harry asked in amazement as he hesitantly followed Grukkukt through the large archway.

"Bismuth-titanate is an alloy we've recently developed," Grukkukt explained, her tone tinged with pride. "As you know, bismuth possesses properties that make it highly resistant to magic. However, on its own, we've always struggled with its lack of structural integrity and its low melting point."

"Right," Harry nodded, bitterly thinking of the now broken bismuth kiln they'd given him.

Grukkukt continued, "This new alloy retains much of bismuth's magical immunity while gaining the strength and heat resistance properties of titanium. It's a breakthrough that allowed us to create these doors that are virtually impenetrable to both magical and physical threats.

"Breakthrough that Gringotts recognised as being… mostly your achievement, Lord Potter."

"Err, thank you? How can it be my achievement though?"

Grukkukt's expression shifted subtly, a mixture of admiration and resentment flickering across her features as she responded to Harry's question.

"Your contribution, Lord Potter, was indeed instrumental in our advancements," she acknowledged, her tone tinged with bitterness. "The magical generator you provided us with allowed us to power our forges more efficiently than ever before. With its capabilities, we were able to refine our crafting processes and experiment with new materials, such as the bismuth-titanate alloy."

There was a brief pause, during which Grukkukt's gaze hardened slightly, betraying her underlying resentment. "As such, it was decided to grant you a lordship, for your significant services to Gringotts."

"Aren't I a bit young to have a lordship? I'd been taught you'd have to be 25 to receive a lordship?"

"For a wizard Wizengamot title, yes. However a Gringotts title only requires the receiver to have wielded their first weapon in combat. As you have notably done so, you are a lord of the Goblin nation."

Harry found it difficult to reply to that, his mind abuzz with swirling thoughts. And then they'd emerged from the cave, and his gaze widened at the breath-taking sight before him.

Before him stretched a cavern of truly colossal proportions. Its vastness was such that the ceiling disappeared into a shroud of dark blue mist, while the walls of the cavern dissolved into darkness.

Nestled within this expansive space sprawled a bustling goblin city, illuminated by the soft glow of vermilion lights. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the scale of the city, which rivalled that of London above.

But where London was chaotic, and disorganised, Harry could see none of that down below. Even from their distance, looking down upon the city, Harry could discern its fortified structures, divided into somewhat uniform segments.

The very existence of such a cavern, hidden beneath another city, should have been impossible. The rock ceiling alone could never be held aloft without any structural support, even with all the magic Harry knew of. Yet there it was, notably not collapsing in on itself.

As Harry marvelled at the sight, Grukkukt's boastful voice broke through his thoughts, "Behold Lord Potter, the grandeur of our city, Gringotts. Unequalled throughout Svartalfheim. Few wizards have ever been allowed to see our ancestral home, and none have seen as much as you will today.

"You have been granted this sight as a sign of appreciation for what you've done for us. I trust you understand the faith we are putting in you now?"

It was hard to miss the warning Grukkukt was sending him, and backed up by the gleaming city, Harry easily nodded along.

"Oh yeah, yeah I understand."

"Good, then we can continue," Grukkukt affirmed, her gaze lingering on Harry for a moment longer before she turned and led him away from the balcony, deeper into the labyrinthine caves.

As they walked away from the grandeur of Gringotts, the distant echoes of industry grew louder, reverberating off the rugged rock walls as they journeyed deeper into the cavern.

Emerging from the cave tunnel, the cacophony of noise became overwhelming, assaulting Harry's senses as his eyes adjusted to the subdued light of the smaller cavern.

Towering silver machines, their surfaces cloaked in grime, loomed against the walls, their mechanical drone filling the air.

Grukkukt effortlessly led the way through the maze of machinery. "As you can see, our operations have expanded exponentially since your last visit."

Harry felt a sense of unease wash over him as he took in the scale of the transformation. Gone was the chaotic jumble of equipment; now, the foundry appeared meticulously organised, each machine fulfilling its role in the larger production process.

Previously tangled bismuth pipes, once fuelling a solitary furnace, were now replaced with slender conduits snaking along the ceiling, high enough to no longer worry Harry about braining himself on a low pipe.

The room itself had even grown colder, devoid of the biting heat that had permeated the previous setup, where wisps of dragon fire had spontaneously burst free of ageing pipes.

The sight of numerous goblins, all pausing to regard their visitor, invoked a visceral memory of the bustling Hogwarts kitchens. It was the largest gathering of goblins Harry had ever witnessed, which presented a terrifying industrial potential.

It was no wonder they'd been able to complete something as gigantic as the doors they'd passed through, if this was the workforce Grukkukt now had working for her.

"The generator you provided us is in the back. We've come close to a full meltdown a few times already, and we felt it worth shielding further, away from our smelters." Grukkukt continued, having let Harry take it all in, glowing with pride at his reaction.

"A meltdown? That shouldn't be possible," Harry argued, following after her, "That's why I had it producing water to cool itself, any runaway energy would've spent itself in the water."

"Ah, well we have made a few minor adjustments to your design, to maximise our power output. That has regrettably added some vulnerabilities, but we are quite confident in our ability to handle it."

Harry found himself gaping at her in astonishment. When he had designed the goblin's reactor, it had been the most robust one he had ever created, more than capable of supporting their existing operations.

Yet, if all the new advancements had been powered by his reactor, he couldn't help but dread how they might have exploited his creation.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Harry watched as Grukkukt began to turn a thick wheel, slowly cracking open a vault door. As the heavy door spun open, revealing the inner chamber of the foundry, Harry winced, sensing the strain on his reactor.

Its sleek pyramid design was lost completely under the many pipes and wires running over it, and there were clear scorch marks which had thinned portions of the outer casing.

The entire thing was red hot, almost shaking from the pressure inside. Harry knew the signs of impending failure well enough, and it was clear that the reactor wouldn't last much longer under such conditions.

Swallowing his apprehension, he turned to Grukkukt. "We need to shut down the reactor," Harry urged, "It can't sustain this level of stress much longer."

Grukkukt glanced back at him, her brow furrowed in annoyance. "Our operations cannot afford a shutdown at this critical juncture, Lord Potter. Our needs outweigh the risks."

"It will shut itself down soon enough," Harry warned, "And it won't be polite about it when it does so."

"And what would you assume the collateral to be?" Grukkukt mused, humouring him.

Harry's mind raced, envisioning the potential devastation. "As it is? Probably everything from here to the city will be gone. If you are lucky, it will explode completely."

"And if it does not explode completely?"

"Then the reactor will keep pumping out energy, with no containment, as the explosion rips through Gringotts. Hopefully your bismuth doors will be enough to contain the magic."

"That will be quite a force. Which shows it is in your best interest to help us develop a better system, no?" She asked, a hint of smugness lacing her words.

Harry felt floored, before slowly realising Grukkukt was playing a dangerous game.

"You already knew this reactor was in danger," he accused, seething with frustration at being manipulated so easily. "I provided it to aid your old forge. If I gave you a new reactor, you'd just use it to expand even further."

"We at Gringotts always strive to be the best," she replied, her grin widening into a predatory smile, revealing a hint of teeth. "We will, of course, reimburse you for your pains."

"Or I could shut off this reactor now, and remove the danger entirely," he countered, causing Grukkukt's face to immediately grow blank.

"You would find our hospitality would grow thin if you attempted such," she promised darkly.

"You will find I don't care much for your hospitality," Harry shot back, mentally reaching out and taking hold of the mithril reactor.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. Harry held Grukkukt's gaze, his determination unwavering despite the tension in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, Grukkukt's expression softened, the predatory glint fading from her eyes. "You have a warrior's spirit, Lord Potter," she remarked, her tone less confrontational now. "But sometimes wisdom lies in choosing when to wield your strength."

Harry's grip on the reactor loosened slightly as he considered her words. "I won't stand by if I see something endangering lives."

Grukkukt nodded in acknowledgment, her demeanour shifting to one of negotiation. "And I will not let the goblins of Gringotts live under the threat of losing what we've only just gained. We goblins have designed a better generator, that will operate under safer constraints.

"However, despite our best efforts, we cannot create the spark your Mithril inherits. We ask you to provide that small spark, and then we can decommission this reactor, as it will have finished serving its purpose. I am entitled to negotiate with you for the finalisation of our new design."

Harry paused, considering her proposition carefully. "And what will you do with this new generator? Because I already made the mistake of thinking you wouldn't abuse the machine."

Grukkukt's tone hardened, voice growling with aggression. "Do you think you are some god, who can command what we goblins do with our own creations?"

Harry met her gaze evenly. "When it involves something you cannot do without my help? Sure, why not. I can create as many of these kettle generators as I want, and you cannot. That means it is you who needs my help, and must abide by my demands."

Things I think need reminding:

- Meithralum; It's the name for goblin-silver, works similar to Harry's Mithril, but once forged cannot be further modified, and lacks some of the flexibility.