Hadrian Peverell: High Lord of Skagos

After the whirlwind tour of the various estates and Harrys realization, he found himself back at Gringotts. The goblins were efficient, as always, and Harry had been summoned once more to meet with Sharpclaw, his account manager. The weight of his inheritance was becoming more real with each passing step, and although the estates were in varying states of disrepair, the sheer volume of assets he controlled was staggering. He knew he had to make sense of it all, and that meant another meeting in the bowels of Gringotts.

As he entered the imposing stone building, he was greeted by Sharpclaw, who offered a slight nod of acknowledgment. The goblin looked as sharp as ever, his long, claw-like fingers glistening as he gestured for Harry to follow.

"Mr. Potter," Sharpclaw began, leading Harry through the familiar labyrinth of tunnels. "I trust your tour of the estates was... illuminating?"

"Illuminating is one word for it," Harry said with a faint smile. "Overwhelming might be a better one."

"Understandable," Sharpclaw replied with a hint of amusement. "It is not every day one inherits the combined legacies of several ancient families."

They arrived in a private meeting room, lined with intricate carvings that told the story of Gringotts' history. Sharpclaw motioned for Harry to sit as he unfurled a parchment on the table.

"I've had time to assess the worth of the assets you visited. While the Potter estates in Scotland and Godric's Hollow is in ruins, its land value is considerable due to its historical significance. The townhouse in London is in relatively good condition and could easily be restored to full functionality."

Harry nodded, trying to keep up as Sharpclaw listed off various figures and values. The numbers were astounding.

"As for the Gryffindor estate," Sharpclaw continued, "Castle Gryffindor itself is priceless. The artifacts you discovered there—goblin-made, I believe—could fetch extraordinary sums, though I recommend keeping them as part of the family's collection. Ownership of Hogwarts' grounds is split, as you noted. Your control over that particular property is limited by the balance of the Slytherin shares, but it's still a significant asset, should any disputes arise over Hogwarts' future."

Sharpclaw paused to look at Harry, his beady eyes glinting in the dim light. "The cottage in Spain, while secluded, holds minimal financial value compared to your other properties. The same can be said for the Peverell manor in South Wales. However, the libraries in both estates contain rare volumes that could be of substantial interest to collectors or scholars. The Black properties, on the other hand, are... more complex. The Scottish hunting ground has lucrative potential if developed, and the northern Welsh manor's library is one of, if not the largest private collections in Britain. It's worth a small fortune in and of itself."

Harry was struggling to grasp just how vast his holdings had become. It was hard to fathom that only a few years ago, he had been living in a cupboard under the stairs, and now he owned estates, castles, libraries, and unimaginable wealth.

"And what about businesses?" Harry asked, remembering the other aspect of his inheritance. "My families—do they own shares in any businesses?"

"Yes," Sharpclaw replied, sliding another parchment across the table. "The Potter family holds shares in several key enterprises, including Ollivanders, which has expanded internationally, and Flourish & Blotts. You also have shares in a few broomstick manufacturing companies—Nimbus, to be specific. The Black family, on the other hand, was more focused on investments in the magical shipping industry and potion ingredient suppliers. Both portfolios are well-diversified, yielding impressive returns."

Harry's head spun. He never imagined the Potters, or the Blacks, would be involved in so many different ventures.

Sharpclaw continued, clearly enjoying the moment. "To put it simply, Mr. Potter, your combined assets—Potter, Gryffindor, Peverell, Slytherin, and Black—are immense. Between the properties, businesses, and various holdings, you are now the wealthiest individual in the wizarding world."

Harry exhaled, trying to absorb the enormity of it all. "What do I do next?" he asked, a bit helplessly.

Sharpclaw's thin lips curled into something resembling a smile. "First, we visit your vaults. The full scope of your inheritance cannot be fully understood until you've seen everything."

Harry nodded, feeling a mixture of anticipation and dread. Together, they descended into the deeper chambers of Gringotts, down to where the oldest vaults resided.

The first vault they visited was the Potter vault. It was massive. Mountains of gold glistened under the torchlight, and Harry's eyes widened as they moved deeper into the vault.

Tucked away in the corner was a portrait—a painting of an older man with familiar dark hair and hazel eyes. His expression was calm, and Harry realized with a jolt that this must be a distant ancestor. The man stirred as they approached.

"Ah," the portrait said, squinting at Harry. "A Potter, I see. Been some time since one of you came down here."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, stepping closer.

"Harold Potter, your great-great-grandfather," the portrait replied. "I see you've finally come to claim what's yours. Took you long enough."

Harry smiled. "Nice to meet you."

The portrait smiled back. "Likewise, my boy. Take care of the family legacy, will you?"

"I will," Harry promised.

The vault also held various artifacts—old family heirlooms, a few pieces of goblin-made jewelry, and stacks of parchments containing ancient family history. It was clear that the Potter family had been prominent for centuries, and Harry was the latest in a long line of powerful wizards.

Next, they moved to the Gryffindor vault, which was even more impressive. Here, Harry found ancient weapons—swords, shields, and armor, all engraved with the Gryffindor lion. There were also magical objects that hummed with power, though Harry had no idea what they were or how to use them. He would have to research them later.

Finally, they arrived at the Black family vault. The moment Harry stepped inside, he felt a chill in the air. The Black vault was dark and foreboding, with towering piles of gold and silver. Ancient tapestries lined the walls, each depicting a different generation of the Black family, their haughty faces glaring down at him.

But what caught his attention most was a portrait of an old, frail-looking woman, hanging near the back of the vault. Her hair was gray and wispy, and her eyes were sharp and calculating. As soon as Harry stepped into her line of sight, she stirred and narrowed her eyes.

"Who are you?" she snapped, her voice sharp and demanding.

Harry, taken aback, hesitated before responding. "I'm Harry Potter. Lord of the Potter, Gryffindor, Peverell, Black, and Slytherin families."

The woman's eyes widened at the mention of his titles. "Potter?" she muttered. "I should have known... a boy. Always a boy." She peered closer. "And Sirius? What happened to that wayward fool?"

Harry's throat tightened. "Sirius was my godfather. He... he died in the war, fighting Voldemort."

The portrait seemed to deflate at the news. "Of course. Always reckless, that one," she said softly, almost to herself. Then her sharp eyes refocused on Harry. "I am Cassiopeia Black, your great-aunt. Well, I was, before I became this dreary painting. Now I sit here, watching generations come and go."

"Great-aunt?" Harry repeated, surprised. He hadn't heard of her before.

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently. "But enough of that. Sirius, for all his faults, left something for you. A letter and a potion. You'll find them in this vault, tucked away in the far corner. The boy may have been disowned by the family, but he was still a Black, through and through."

Harry frowned, curiosity piqued. "A letter from Sirius?"

"Yes, but you'll have to find it yourself," Cassiopeia said with a haughty sniff. "I'm not your guide. I'm just a portrait, after all."

Harry stepped forward, intent on finding the items she mentioned. As he rummaged through the piles of gold and artifacts, he finally came across a small chest tucked behind an old tapestry. Inside was a sealed letter addressed to him in Sirius's familiar scrawl and a vial of potion, glowing faintly blue.

"Thank you," Harry said, glancing back at Cassiopeia.

The old woman gave him a faint smile, her expression softening for just a moment. "Take care of the family, boy. It's all yours now."

Harry pocketed the letter and the potion, feeling a heavy weight settle over him. He had so much to figure out, so many questions. But for now, he had the reassurance that a piece of Sirius had been left behind for him, and that meant more than all the gold in the vault.

As they left the vault, Sharpclaw gave him a sidelong glance. "Satisfied, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded slowly, still absorbing everything he had seen. "More than I expected, Sharpclaw. Thank you."