Chapter 16
A woman wearing a long dark red wool coat stood before the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, her dark hair rolled and pinned at the sides of her head, with a few wisps framing her pretty pale face. Her gray eyes glanced at the two people beside her. She gave them a soft, reassuring smile. Wand in hand, she tapped the bricks, opening the wall and allowing her and her Muggle family to enter the bustling market.
Diagon Alley had been through so much over the years. The war with Voldemort had left the place broken and gray for a while, but eventually, it bounced back. Store owners returned, repaired their shops, and reopened. In the distance, looming over the entire alley, was the goblin-run bank, Gringotts.
"Amisty, are you sure we should do this today?" The much older woman beside her asked, wringing her hands with worry. The left side of her hair had a distinguished streak of white, and her once sharp, horse-like face had softened with age, making her look more like a kindly grandmother than the harsh, bitter housewife she had been in her youth.
Amisty turned gray eyes to her mother-in-law. "Of course. There's no time like the present. Besides, the sooner we know, the better. It's rather crowded, so just stick close to me, both of you." She turned her eyes to her husband, tall, muscular, and completely distracted by the sights. This wasn't their first time visiting the alley, but Dudley always became awestruck. Sighing in exasperation, she grabbed his hand and tugged slightly to get his attention. "I know you want to run to Fortescue's, but we're here for a mission!" She swung his arm around playfully, smiling brightly at him. "C'mon, time for an adventure!" Amisty linked her arms with her husband and mother-in-law.
Together, the odd trio made their way toward the goblin-run bank, determined to see this done.
Petunia hated being in here. Although she had come to terms with magic some time ago, she still couldn't help the way her stomach twisted when looking at the goblins. She admired her Dudders and his bravery in that respect. Whenever they had to come here for funds, Petunia always waited elsewhere—at a café or over in Flourish and Blotts, browsing books. Dudley, on the other hand, always came with Amisty, hand in hand, unbothered. She envied him for that. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't change the way she felt about the creatures.
The line was long, as it usually was for those without an appointment, but Amisty headed toward the newly established express line. "Good morning," she began, unflinching as the goblin looked up from the ledger in front of him. "May your coffers grow beyond that of your enemies."
The goblin quirked a brow and tilted his head, nodding. "And may your enemies suffer at your feet. What can I do for you today?"
"We have an appointment for an inheritance test." She motioned with her head to her husband and mother-in-law. "Petunia Evans and Dudley Dursley."
The goblin turned his eyes to the book in front of him. "Ah, yes, I see. Come with me." He jumped down off the high stool and motioned for them to follow.
The trio did so quietly, walking past the tellers and into a room lined with floor-to-ceiling file cabinets. In the center sat a long table with a few chairs.
"Please be seated." The goblin shifted. "Master Guirk will be with you shortly." He hobbled back to his post, leaving the three alone.
Petunia was all nerves as she slowly sat down, toying with her nails. "Do you think we have to wait long?"
Amisty shook her head. "Should only be a few minutes. As for the test itself, I doubt you will have to do more than give a few drops of blood."
"Blood!" Petunia screeched, causing both Dudley and Amisty to wince in unison.
"Mum, please," Dudley said, placing a hand on her shoulder as he sat beside her.
"It's no different from getting pricked with a needle, Petunia, and I can heal the wound after. You'll hardly notice." Amisty said gently, sitting on her other side. She let her eyes fall on Dudley over Petunia's head.
He rolled his. "Mum, if I get it done first, will that make you feel better?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "But Dudders—"
"We have to do this. Endora only knows about her mother's ancestry but nothing about ours. Aren't you at least curious to know where your sister got her magic from?"
Petunia's face scrunched up like a petulant child, but she sighed and let her shoulders slump. "Yes, I want to know if it just… showed up or if Ami's theory is possible."
The door opened, and a goblin with thick black hair, wearing a tailored three-piece suit, entered the room. "Good morning. I am Guirk, and I run the inheritance office. I understand that two of you are here for the test?"
"Yes, my husband and his mother," Amisty answered, rubbing Petunia's back, feeling her nervous energy coming off in waves.
Guirk's voice carried a note of caution. "As we proceed, the Ancestral Awakening Ritual will not only trace your bloodline but also reveal any significant magical interference or anomalies tied to your magical essence. Be prepared for what may come to light—it can be unsettling for some." He paused, "I understand that many believe we would require blood for this procedure, and though that may have been true a decade or two ago, we have since updated the ritual." Guirk carefully placed a shimmering crystal sphere in the center of the table. Its surface glowed faintly, swirling with a misty silver light. The air around it hummed with power. Guirk gestured toward it, "This is the Orb of Lineage. It will draw from the essence of your magical core to trace your ancestry and identify any anomalies. The process is painless but precise. You need only place your hand on it, and the magic will do the rest."
Petunia stared at the orb as though it might bite her while Dudley tilted his head, fascinated. "Looks like one of those fancy things you see in the movies," he murmured.
Amisty chuckled softly. "Except this one is the real deal."
"What if a person doesn't have a magical core?" Petunia questioned, eying the thing with skepticism.
Guirk quirked a non-existent brow, "contrary to the popular belief of wizardkind, everyone has a magical core." He could say much more on the subject, but they were not here for that.
Dudley looked between them and decided to return to the matter before they were derailed. He took a deep breath and leaned forward in his seat. "I'll go first." He placed his hand on the orb. The silver mist inside began to churn, glowing brighter as it spiraled upward to meet his hand. The room filled with a soft hum as the light intensified, then dimmed.
The orb pulsed once, and a scroll materialized in midair. Guirk caught it deftly and began to read. His sharp eyes scanned the parchment, his expression unreadable. "Curious. Very curious indeed," he murmured.
"What is it?" Dudley asked, his brow furrowing.
Guirk cleared his throat. "You possess a magical core—strong, vibrant, and entirely functional, except…" He paused, fixing Dudley with a piercing look. "It has been bound. Someone placed a magical block on your core, likely when you were an infant."
Petunia's hands flew to her mouth, a sharp gasp escaping her. "Bound? What does that mean?"
Guirk set the scroll on the table. "Someone suppressed his magic, locking it away. This is highly illegal, as it stunts magical growth and can have lasting repercussions on the individual's health. The spell used here is crude and poorly cast, which is fortunate; it means there's a chance it can be undone."
Amisty's expression darkened, her voice sharp, "Someone bound Dudley's magic? Who would have dared do something like that?"
As if answering her question, the orb began to hum again, the mist inside churning violently. Suddenly, the silver mist coalesced into a vision, projected above the orb like a memory.
The scene was eerily clear, as though they were standing right there in the Dursleys' living room. Baby Dudley sat in Vernon's lap, gurgling happily and staring up at the white-haired old wizard in curiosity. Vernon's face twisted in fury. Across from him stood Albus Dumbledore, his expression stern but weary. "You have nothing to fret. Your family will only have to tend to young Mr. Potter for a few years. After which, he will certainly attend Hogwarts at age eleven, and from then on, you will only have him in summer." His eyes twinkled warmly as they fell to Dudley, "the same for your son. I expect to see him at Hogwarts as well."
"You mean to tell me my son is one of you?" Vernon bellowed, his face purpling.
Dumbledore frowned, his voice calm but firm. "Mr. Dursley, your son does indeed possess a magical core."
"No! I will not have it! Remove this freakishness from him at once! I will not have two freaks under my roof! It's bad enough you're forcing the one on us!" It seemed to take everything in him not to throw the boy from his lap.
"Suppressing magic is unethical and highly dangerous to a growing child. Dudley's magical abilities may—"
"I don't care about your laws or what's dangerous!" Vernon roared, his voice rising with each word. "You're not turning my son into one of your kind! I won't have it!"
Dumbledore's expression grew colder. "Mr. Dursley, this is not a choice you should take lightly. Blocking a magical core is nearly irreversible. It comes at a great risk and could—"
"Do it!" Vernon shouted, slamming his fist on the arm of the chair. "I don't care how dangerous it is—get that freakishness out of my son!"
The Headmaster hesitated, the elder wand heavy in his hand. He glanced toward the kitchen, where the muffled sounds of Petunia fussing about the kitchen and slamming things as she looked for something to stop Harry's crying. With a heavy sigh, he pointed his wand at Dudley.
The words of the spell left his lips softly, almost mournfully. A faint, golden shimmer enveloped the baby and disappeared as quickly as it had come. "May you never regret this choice, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said, his tone grave. For your son's sake, I pray the day does not come when it must be undone."
Petunia's hands clenched into fists, her chest tightening as she stared at the orb. The memory from the past played out before her, and the weight of the moment came crashing down on her. She could hear Vernon's voice echoing in her ears, his words filled with rage and fear for something he didn't understand. Her voice cracked as she spoke. "He… he blocked Dudley's magic? That man—Dumbledore—he… he did that to my son?" Her face flushed with anger, but a wave of helplessness overtook it. And Vernon, how could Vernon endanger his son with something that could have left lasting harm on him? Oh, if she ever saw that ex of hers, she would love to strangle his fat neck.
Guirk nodded grimly. "Yes, the spell was cast shortly after former Headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, arrived in your home. It was done at your husband's request, though he was not aware of the full consequences."
Petunia recoiled, a cold shiver running down her spine. She turned to Dudley, her expression filled with guilt and fury. "Dudley, I… I never knew. I didn't know what he did to you. I didn't know your father made him do this."
Dudley's face was unreadable, but his voice had a hard edge. "It's not your fault, Mum; it was Dad and his need for control. But if we can undo it, I want to."
Taking that as the end of the conversation, Guirk's gaze shifted to Petunia. "If you are ready, we can proceed with your test."
Petunia hesitated. She had already discovered more than she could bear. But, knowing there was no turning back, she placed her hand on the orb.
The moment her palm touched the smooth surface, a sharp surge of energy pulsed through her. The mist swirled around her hand, and then the orb began to shimmer again. This time, the glow deepened into a pale golden hue as if reaching into her very core. The orb continued to glow, its light now swirling in vivid hues as it presented the truth of Petunia's family line. The silence in the room felt heavy as if the weight of generations was settling on Petunia's shoulders. The lineage revealed before her eyes was more complex than she could have ever imagined. It hummed and shifted, and the first vision began to materialize—a long-forgotten noble house thought to have vanished centuries ago. The family crest appeared, depicting an owl perched upon a crescent moon, glistening with ancient magic. The house had been renowned for its power in divination, producing seers whose gifts were unrivaled. A name filled the mist, the ancient and forgotten house of Evandale.
Petunia's heart beat faster as this knowledge felt foreign yet deeply tied to her, an unrecognized part of her own lineage. As the orb continued its dance, Petunia watched the tree grow—a string of names, ancestors she had never known of, now filled her mind. It was a long line of witches and wizards, noble and powerful, stretching back for centuries. Their magical abilities had been strong, and though the family had largely fallen into obscurity, likely due to one too many squibs and near squibs, its bloodline had survived. However, the orb shifted again, its glow flickering and warping, revealing something entirely unexpected. Petunia's heart skipped a beat. In the magical threads that showed the family line, there was an oddity wrapped around her name, deep red and black like an old wound, mostly dried but still somehow bleeding.
Guirk, who had been watching closely, furrowed his brow. "Hmm," he muttered, his voice low. "This is strange... very strange. We don't normally see such an interruption in a lineage test, Ms. Evans."
Petunia's eyes darted to the goblin, but before she could speak, the orb pulsed, drawing her attention back. The vision that appeared next was one that she had never anticipated, something that, even now, she could hardly believe. It was a memory of her younger self when she was still bright-eyed and not as jaded.
A young Petunia stood in her childhood home, a letter from Hogwarts clutched tightly in her hands. The date was clear on the envelope—the year Lily had received her own letter. The memory unfolded with the same magic the orb had shown earlier, and Petunia, now an adult, watched as a younger version of herself read the letter aloud, the words glowing as she did.
"Dear Ms. Evans,
I regret to inform you that, despite your wishes, you cannot attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You lack any magical ability, and I must, therefore, deny your request."
Petunia could feel her breath quicken as the words resonated in her chest, but there was more. The orb shimmered, and the true weight of the letter came into focus thanks to the orb's power. Hidden beneath the letter's words were subtle, arcane symbols that glowed faintly, triggering an unsettling feeling within Petunia. The magic embedded in those symbols was dark, insidious—compulsions designed to make her feel inferior, unworthy. Her chest tightened as she realized what was happening. The scene playing out in the orb revealed the unseen magic on the paper between young Petunia's hands.
"You will never be worthy of magic. You are not like Lily. You are beneath her."
The enchantments cast on the yellowed page held power. Petunia's younger self, so eager and full of dreams of being with her sister at Hogwarts, was instead caught in the grip of those very charms, spells designed to sow the seeds of bitterness, jealousy, and resentment.
Petunia trembled. She remembered hearing those words in her head that day. How had she forgotten them? The enchantments on that letter had been carefully crafted to instill hatred for everything magical, to stoke the insecurities she had always felt—being overshadowed by Lily, being "the lesser sister." The magic fed on her self-doubt and twisted it, amplifying it and creating a warped sense of jealousy. It wasn't just the rejection from the magical world; it was the feeling that she was somehow lesser, unworthy of the forgotten magic that had been a part of her family for centuries.
"Ms. Evans," Guirk's voice cut through her thoughts. The compulsions were made to prevent you from embracing magic, even if you could not perform it yourself. There is no doubt that Albus Dumbledore committed this crime upon you."
Petunia could hardly breathe. She felt as though the air had been sucked from her lungs. "That man," she whispered, her voice almost a hiss. She had always felt off about him... now she knew why. He had been the one to place those enchantments on her life, to manipulate her into hating magic and her sister. Petunia's chest heaved with emotion as she was torn between anger at Dumbledore and the overwhelming grief of realizing how deeply she had hurt Lily—her sister, who had always been kind, always had tried to reach out to her. Petunia's actions, her rejection of Lily, and the magical world had never been entirely her own fault. It was the spells, the compulsions, that had twisted her heart and mind. Petunia was left with a deep sense of emptiness and shame as the images faded from the orb. Her hands shook as the orb's light dimmed, its revelations complete. She couldn't look at Dudley, who was staring at her with wide eyes, or at Amisty, who seemed to understand the weight of it all. "I hated her... for so long... but it wasn't me. It was the magic... It wasn't all me." Petunia whispered, her voice breaking as her hands pressed upon her face. How much she had resented her sister, hated her for her so-called freakishness, and it was all by that man's design.
Dudley reached over, his hand gently touching hers, though his face was confused and concerned. He had no words; these revelations were still sinking in for him as well. His father had cut him off from the magical world, and for what? Control. It was always about control over him and his mother.
Amisty spoke softly, her face pale with the shock of it all. "You're not to blame. There's no way you could have possibly known you were under spells."
But Petunia, despite her family's attempts to comfort her, couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of all the years she'd spent angry. She had blamed everything on the world around her, but now, she realized that everything she knew was all built on lies.
The orb dimmed at last, and Guirk spoke again, his voice firm but gentle. "The holdings in Gringotts, the vaults, investments, and properties are now yours. As heirs of the long-lost house of Evandale, you are entitled to all of it. All you must do is accept." He turned his eyes to Dudley.
The reality of the situation settled in slowly, and Petunia looked at Dudley and Amisty. She had never expected any of this, especially not after everything that had happened. But now, there was a path forward, one that would take time to navigate and understand. There was silence between the four of them as Petunia came to terms with everything.
Amisty spoke first, "Master Guirk, may we have copies of everything for our records?"
He nodded, "of course, the originals will be filed here in this room." He motioned toward the walls of file cabinets. He turned his gaze down to the parchment before him, quickly scanning the words. "As the house was long thought extinct sometime in the 14th century, I'm unsure if there is a lord ring."
"Lord ring?" Dudley tilted his head.
"It's a ring that signifies not only title and status but shows you've met all the family conditions to be head of the house."
Dudley inhaled sharply and turned his gaze to his mother. "Do you want this?"
Petunia's hands balled into fists, and the thought of everything that had been stolen from her, from Dudley, was at the forefront of her mind. "Yes. You should take it." This was the biggest fuck you to Vernon she could ever give outside of the divorce.
Guirk cleared his throat. "Before he can take the ring, should we find one, he will need to have the block removed." He then eyed Petunia, "and the compulsions on you must be removed as well, as they are still active."
Petunia's heart sank at Guirk's words. The weight of everything she'd just learned felt as if it might crush her. "Active? After all this time?" Her voice trembled, barely a whisper, as the realization of how deeply the manipulations went took root in her chest. The compulsions had been feeding off her insecurities for years, clouding her perception of her sister, magic, and her family.
Amisty leaned closer, her voice soft but firm, "What does that mean for her? What happens when they're removed?"
Guirk straightened his posture, his gaze thoughtful as he examined the parchment before him. "Once the compulsions are lifted, Ms. Evans will be free of the influences that have shaped her beliefs and her actions. The magic will unravel, and her mind will be restored to its true state. It will take time, but she will begin to see the world through her own eyes rather than through the lens of twisted enchantments." He turned toward Petunia with an understanding that seemed both gentle and resolute. "But the process will be difficult. It's as much an emotional healing as it is a magical one."
Petunia closed her eyes, taking in the gravity of Guirk's words. She had spent decades hating a world that she should have been part of. So many feelings ran through her at once: anger, grief, shame for her actions. Was it still possible to reclaim the years she had lost to the lies?
"Do you think I can ever make up for what I've done?" Petunia's voice cracked, barely audible as she spoke, her gaze turned to her son.
Dudley swallowed hard, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We'll figure it out, Mum." His voice was thick with emotion.
Amisty reached out to squeeze Petunia's hand. "You can't undo the past, but you can move forward. And we'll be there together."
The weight of her family's kindness, the realization that they were not holding her actions against her caused Petunia to finally allow the tears she had been holding back to fall. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting to look weak in front of her son, but the dam had already broken. The flood of emotions was overwhelming.
Guirk's voice cut through the silence again. "The Evandale family is, and always has been, a noble house, though largely forgotten by the world. As heirs to the lineage, the inheritance—vaults, investments, properties—everything is yours to claim. It has been held in trust by Gringotts, awaiting your discovery."
Petunia took a deep breath and straightened. "Then we claim it. All of it."
Amisty raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Petunia said, her voice firm. "It's not about the wealth. It's about what was lost. We've spent too long in the dark. My parents never knew any of this. I'm sure Lily didn't even know, or maybe she had a feeling—she was always so in tune like she always knew things. I suppose this explains that."
"But what about the block? What happens if we can't get it removed? If we can't... unlock everything?"
"That is something we must address. The magic has been bound for years, and its removal will not be instantaneous. There is a ritual involved—one that will require care and expertise. The same goes for the compulsions on Ms. Evans. But I assure you, it is possible. It will take time, but it can be done."
The reality of their situation began to settle in for Petunia. She was standing on the precipice of a new chapter—one that would leave her fresh and free of manipulations. Could this clean slate help her fix what had been broken? "Then we begin," Petunia said, her voice stronger now, filled with determination. "It's time to make things right."
Guirk nodded, his expression a mix of respect and solemn understanding. "We will begin the preparations immediately."
As the goblin turned to finalize the necessary paperwork and rituals, Amisty looked at her family. Petunia had come a long way, as had Dudley. The work with the mind-healer had done wonders, but now it made sense why Petunia was still having issues talking with Healer Pickering about Lily. "Petunia." She began softly, her hand moving to rest on her shoulder. "I think I understand now why you had such a hard time deep-diving with Healer Pickering about your past grievances with your late sister."
Petunia closed her eyes tightly, recalling the painful past. A long, drawn-out sigh left her. "I think you're right."
Guirk looked up at that, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "From what I have seen, such compulsions can leave a person unable to speak a single positive thing about the person the spell is against. I have also seen the opposite. Magic like this is old and thus dropped off into obscurity, but, unfortunately, we have found that the culprit behind the cases we've found in more recent times has been the same." He gave a meaningful look toward Amisty.
Amisty felt her blood go cold at the implications. "He did this to others?"
"I cannot go into detail, but the short answer is yes. I also cannot begin to tell you why, but know that I have my theories about that manipulative old man." Guirk was just one among a vast majority of goblins who did not like wizards in general, but one, in particular, had always rubbed them the wrong way. It had been a celebration among goblin kind upon the news of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's death that lasted four days. And that celebration had not been because they backed the so-called Dark Lord, but because Dumbledore had been behind many legislation that stifled the rights of creatures wizards classified as dark, like goblins.
Dudley sat silently. He had never been a particularly clever child growing up—perhaps that was a side effect of the block—but he had learned to read between the lines. "Harry," he said simply.
Guirk turned a sharp gaze to Dudley. He was silent, but the look was enough to tell him he had been on the nose.
Petunia felt sick. "Just how much has that man done?"
"It's unknown how many people he has affected in his cause for the greater good," Guirk sneered, even as he turned his back to retrieve the files for the Evandale estate. "But know that the world is all the better for him no longer breathing."
It was a harsh sentiment for Amisty, who had gone to Hogwarts in her youth. But the Wynne family had always been neutral, never engaging in fights on either side. At least, that had been until her involvement during the Battle of Hogwarts. Although she had not been on the front lines of the fighting, she had stationed herself, along with others of her year, to defend Ravenclaw Tower from a few Death Eaters that had made their way there in the chaos. It was the first and only time a member of the Wynne family had taken a side, and for Amisty, protecting children was not about picking sides.
She snapped herself from her thoughts and looked at Guirk as he slid the folder full of the copies toward them. "What steps must we take now?"
Guirk straightened, his sharp features becoming even more severe as he began to explain. "The first step is breaking the spells—both the block on Mr. Dursley and the compulsions on Ms. Evans. We have specialists trained in breaking harmful curses and enchantments, especially those that are complex, illegal, or have rooted themselves too deeply over time."
Amisty tilted her head, curiosity evident on her face. "Specialists? Do you mean curse breakers?"
"Not quite," Guirk replied, a flicker of disdain crossing his features. "While curse breakers deal with magical artifacts and locations, these goblin specialists focus on rituals and magic directly tied to individuals. Cleansing harmful enchantments, breaking blocks, and undoing compulsions require a different kind of expertise—magic that has been our craft for centuries, forgotten by your kind. Wizards often lack the precision for such delicate work. And most of these rituals cannot be performed by human hands due to their complicated requirements."
Amisty nodded slowly, but her curiosity was piqued. "So, curse breaking is separate from what your specialists do. But anyone can become a curse breaker, right? I thought most curse breakers worked for Gringotts."
"That's correct," Guirk said with a sharp nod. "Any witch or wizard can apply for a license from the Ministry of Magic to practice curse-breaking. However, the best training and resources are provided through Gringotts, which is why most curse breakers work for us. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. We train them, they break curses on our behalf, and they keep a fraction of the spoils. Those who leave the bank continue their work freelance or offer their services privately. Others remain employed with us but sometimes take on private commissions—particularly for wealthy families or prominent businesses."
Petunia, listening intently, furrowed her brow. "So, this cleansing ritual—" she felt herself shudder—"is it not something a wizard curse breaker could handle?"
"Not effectively," Guirk replied, his tone firm. "This is far beyond standard curse-breaking. The magic in question is deeply entwined with your being. It takes knowledge of rituals older than most wizards can comprehend, let alone perform. That's why we specialize in it. And frankly," he added with a slight sneer, "we're far more skilled."
Amisty gave Guirk a bemused look, but she didn't disagree. "Fair enough. So what happens next?"
Guirk straightened, adjusting the files on the desk before meeting their gaze. "Now, as to the inheritance—there is much to discuss. This is not a dormant account we're speaking of but an ancient one with still-active investments. For generations, the account has been maintained by a goblin family dedicated to its management, passed from father to son. This continuity ensures the account has remained stable and grown substantially over time."
Dudley raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so even though the family was thought to be extinct, someone has been managing all of this? For how long?"
"Centuries," Guirk replied smoothly. "The Evandale accounts have always been under the stewardship of the same goblin lineage. Currently, they are managed by Kuruk. He is well-versed in your family's holdings and financial structure. You will, of course, have the option to retain him or select someone else to oversee the estate if you choose should he not meet expectations."
Dudley and Petunia exchanged a look, unsure of what to say, but Amisty leaned forward. "What about access to the vaults? With Dudley still under the effects of the block, does that mean he can't take control?"
"Correct," Guirk replied, his tone brisk but understanding. "Until Mr. Dursley can remove the block and officially assume the title of Head of House, the primary vault remains sealed. However, the family vault designated for branch members remains accessible to you both. It contains sufficient funds to meet your immediate needs and preparations."
"That's something, at least," Petunia murmured, visibly relieved. Having access to money was something she still was getting used to after years of Vernon holding a tight hand on the purse strings throughout their marriage.
Amisty interjected. "We'll need a full account of the assets, though. Not just the vault contents but everything tied to the estate—the properties, investments, artifacts, and so on."
Guirk gave her an approving nod. "Wise. Kuruk is the best person to provide you with those details. I suggest a meeting with him at your earliest convenience. He will explain everything and assist you with determining how best to proceed with the estate."
"Right," Amisty said. "But before that, shouldn't we start with the... cleansing procedures?"
"Indeed," Guirk agreed, his expression growing serious. "I will summon the specialist now to begin assessing the damage caused by the block and compulsions. These assessments will determine the complexity and cost of the procedures required. As I mentioned earlier, this is not a simple process, especially in Mr. Dursley's case. Being blocked as a child means the effects are deeply rooted and will take considerable effort to unravel."
Petunia's face tightened. "And me?"
"Your compulsions are severe but less intricate than Mr. Dursley's block," Guirk replied. "Your procedure will be less involved, though still not without challenges. Rest assured, we have the expertise to handle this. I dare say we may be able to do this for you today, should you wish it." He pulled a small bell from his desk drawer and rang it. A few moments later, a tall, sharp-eyed goblin entered the room, carrying a thick ledger and several tools of his trade. Guirk gestured to the newcomer. "This is Tarklen, one of our most skilled specialists. He will conduct the initial assessments to determine the nature and extent of the enchantments and curses affecting you both." He turned to Tarklen and explained the situation briefly in Gobbledygook to bring him up to speed.
Tarklen's face twisted as he heard the tale, which only gave him more reason to hate the late Dumbledore. He turned and gave them a curt nod. "We shall begin immediately. Please remain seated. I will need a few details from you before proceeding."
As Tarklen set up his tools, Dudley glanced at Amisty, his unease clear. "This feels... surreal," he murmured.
Amisty reached over, squeezing his hand. "We'll get through this, Dudley. One step at a time. I'm with you." She smiled softly as she lifted his hand and gently kissed it.
Dudley softened and felt his shoulders relax. Amisty was always so good at keeping him calm.
Tarklen set down his tools: a set of intricately carved gemstones, a small orb of polished obsidian, and a circular metal disc etched with glowing runes. The orb shimmered faintly as he placed it in the center of the desk, where it hovered slightly above the surface, radiating a soft, pulsating light. The metal disc had tiny gears along its edges, giving it the appearance of a clockwork device infused with magic. He adjusted the disc until its runes aligned, causing the orb to glow brighter. Tarklen then turned to Dudley and Petunia. "We will begin with you, Mr. Dursley. This diagnostic process will not hurt, but you may feel a mild sensation as the tools interact with your magical core."
Dudley nodded nervously, glancing at Amisty before sitting back. "Right. Let's get it over with."
Tarklen picked up one of the carved gemstones—a deep red one—and held it over the orb. Murmuring in Gobbledygook, he moved the gemstone in slow, deliberate motions. The light from the orb intensified as his chant continued. The runes on the disc began to shift and glow, casting patterns of light onto the walls.
As the diagnostic continued, a faint hum filled the room. The orb emitted soft pulses of energy, which reflected off the gemstone and back onto Dudley, enveloping him in a faint aura. Tarklen's sharp eyes flicked between the gemstone and the shifting runes on the disc.
After several moments, he set the gemstone down and adjusted the disc. "As expected, the block is deeply entrenched. It was placed when you were a child, likely before your magical core had fully matured. This has resulted in a complete suppression of your abilities, leaving them undeveloped and dormant."
Dudley swallowed. "Can it be removed?"
"Yes," Tarklen said, his voice firm. "But it is a delicate process. The block has integrated with your magical core over the years, meaning the removal must be done in stages to avoid any harm. Based on these readings, the full procedure will take several weeks and multiple sessions."
"And the cost?" Dudley asked, his tone wary.
Guirk stepped in, his voice brisk. "Due to the severity of the block and the complexity of the rituals required, the cost will be on the higher end—eighty galleons. This includes the necessary tools, potions, and follow-up care."
Tarklen then turned to Petunia. "Now, Ms. Evans. Your situation is less complex but still significant. Please sit still while I perform the diagnostic."
He repeated the process, this time using a pale blue gemstone. The orb's light shifted to a cooler hue, and the runes on the disc rearranged themselves into a new pattern. Tarklen studied the results with the same sharp focus as before.
"Your compulsions are extensive, but they do not run as deep as the block on your son. They were placed much later in life, likely in your late teens, meant to manipulate your thoughts and emotions regarding magic and your sister."
Petunia's jaw tightened, but she remained silent, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair.
"They can be removed in a single session," Tarklen continued. "The process will be intense but brief, and the cost will be significantly lower—thirty galleons."
Petunia exhaled slowly, her grip relaxing slightly. "That's… manageable."
Guirk nodded, his tone businesslike. "Once we have your approval, we can schedule the procedures immediately. The funds for these services can be drawn directly from the branch vault, ensuring no delay."
Petunia looked to Dudley, then Amisty, and finally back to Tarklen. "Let's do it. The sooner we start, the better."
Tarklen inclined his head. "Very well. I will begin preparations immediately." Tarklen gestured toward Petunia's chair, muttering a short command in Gobbledygook. The sturdy chair shifted, its back reclined, and its armrests extended into padded supports, transforming into something akin to a doctor's recliner. "This will help keep you comfortable and stable during the procedure," Tarklen explained, motioning for Petunia to settle back.
Petunia hesitated for only a moment before leaning into the reclined chair, her hands lightly gripping the armrests. "I'm ready," she said, her voice steady despite the apprehension in her eyes.
Tarklen reached into his satchel and retrieved a shimmering amber gemstone, its facets catching the ambient light in the room. He held it over Petunia for a moment, letting the energy resonate between the stone and her aura. "Ms. Evans, I will place this stone over your heart. It will act as a focal point, drawing out the compulsions in your mind. You may feel discomfort—tugging, warmth, or even flashes of memory—but you must remain still. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Petunia replied, taking a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."
Carefully, Tarklen placed the stone just below her collarbone, where it seemed to adhere as though magnetized. A faint glow emanated from the gemstone when it touched her skin.
Tarklen began to chant in Gobbledygook, his voice low and resonant, filling the chamber with an ancient cadence. The runes on the device beside him flickered to life, casting intricate patterns on the walls as the gemstone pulsed in sync with the rhythm of his voice.
Petunia's breath hitched as a warmth spread from the stone, radiating outward. It wasn't unpleasant, but the sensation was deeply unfamiliar. As the chant continued, the warmth shifted to a gentle pulling sensation, as though invisible threads were being unwound within her mind.
Memories surfaced—clearer and more vibrant than they'd been in decades. Lily's laughter as a child, their mother humming while preparing dinner, the pride in her father's eyes as he watched his daughters play together. Tears welled in Petunia's eyes as these long-buried moments resurfaced, untainted by bitterness or jealousy.
The pulling grew stronger, and Petunia gasped, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly. But she remained still, her resolve unshaken.
Tarklen's chant reached its climax, the amber stone glowing brighter until the light filled the room. Then, with a final pulse, the gemstone dimmed, its glow fading completely. Tarklen gently removed it, placing it back into his satchel. "It is done," Tarklen announced, his tone calm but firm. "The compulsions have been removed. You may feel emotionally raw for a few days, but this is a natural part of your mind adjusting to its unbound state."
Petunia opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as tears continued to fall. She placed a hand over her chest, exhaling shakily. "I… I feel lighter. Like something heavy has been lifted."
Amisty leaned forward, gently touching Petunia's arm. "That's because it has."
Petunia nodded, a faint but genuine smile forming on her lips. "I feel… free."
Tarklen inclined his head. "If you experience any unusual symptoms, contact Guirk immediately. But otherwise, your path to healing has begun."
Guirk stepped closer, his expression thoughtful. "We'll proceed with Mr. Dursley's session next. Due to the complexity of his block, it will require a full day. Tarklen, schedule it."
Tarklen nodded, consulting his notes. "We can begin at eight tomorrow."
Dudley nodded, though his face betrayed his apprehension. "I'll be there."
Guirk turned to the group. "Is there anything else I can do for you today? Do you want to meet with the estate manager?"
Amisty shook her head, her tone decisive. "No. Today has already been taxing enough, I think." She looked at Dudley and her mother-in-law. "We can, however, schedule a time to meet with him soon."
Guirk inclined his head respectfully. "Very well." He looked over his papers, "Kuruk can meet with you sometime this week, say Friday at noon?"
Amisty looked thoughtful and glanced at Dudley, who nodded. "Alright, that's agreeable."
"Good. As we are done here, Tarklen will escort you to the exit when you're ready. Good luck, Ms. Evans. And Mr. Dursley, I will see you tomorrow."
Petunia stood, her posture straighter than it had been in years. She almost felt more youthful despite being emotionally drained. "Thank you, Guirk." With a nod, the three left the bank, breathing just a little bit easier.