Chapter 8

I walked into Gringotts and made my way over to one of the counters, where a line of people were already waiting. There were a few customers ahead of me, so I had some time to think about my plan. First, I'd ask if they could exchange Galleons for Muggle money—that was the most immediate concern. Afterward, I'd inquire about the possibility of an inheritance test. I didn't expect much, but it was worth a shot. If they actually had something like that, I'd be impressed.

Finally, it was my turn. I approached the teller, who looked up at me with a sharp, almost irritated expression.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone harsh and impatient.

I met his gaze calmly, ignoring the hostility. "Not much, just wondering if you convert Galleons into Muggle money?"

The goblin stared at my red eyes for a moment, his expression unreadable, before replying. "Yes, we do. The conversion rate is here." He slid a piece of parchment across the counter. The numbers were clear:

1 Galleon = £4.93

1 Sickle = £0.29

1 Knut = £0.01

Straightforward enough. I picked up my trunk from where I had set it on the floor, opened it, and grabbed 100 Galleons. "I'd like to exchange 100 Galleons for £493."

The goblin snatched the coins from my hand and quickly counted them before handing me a stack of cash in return. His movements were quick, efficient, and dismissive. "Is that all for today?" he asked, clearly annoyed at how long I was taking.

"Not quite," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "I was wondering if you do inheritance tests. I'm trying to trace my family history."

That part was a lie. I didn't care about family or bloodlines—I just wanted to see if I could find anything that might lead to some hidden wealth.

The goblin narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not buying my story, but he didn't argue. "We do," he said, still annoyed. "It'll cost you 120 Galleons."

I nodded, pulling more Galleons from my trunk and handing them over. "I'll take it."

"Wait here," the goblin grumbled, pocketing the coins. He stormed off toward the back, muttering under his breath. After what felt like a few minutes, two goblins approached me. One of them gestured toward me with a nod.

"Grizzleblot, this is the wizard who needs an inheritance test."

The second goblin—Grizzleblot, I assumed—looked me up and down before saying, "Follow me."

I followed him through the grand halls of Gringotts, marveling at the scale of the place. The ceilings were high, and the walls gleamed with polished stone. It felt like a maze of marble and gold, filled with the sounds of clinking coins and hushed conversations. Finally, we arrived at a small door. Grizzleblot opened it, and I stepped inside.

"My name is Grizzleblot," he said, closing the door behind us. "I'll be conducting your blood inheritance test today." He pulled out a small, parchment-like sheet and a silver knife, placing them on the table between us. "Cut your finger and drop five drops of blood on this paper."

I picked up the knife and pressed it against my finger, wincing slightly as it broke the skin. As I squeezed out five drops of blood onto the parchment, the room suddenly felt colder. The moment the last drop hit the paper, there was a flash of light.

The parchment began to react immediately. Dark lines started to form, branching out like a tree. The roots appeared first—faint, ancient lines tracing back to my ancestors. As the branches grew upward, more names appeared, slowly moving through the generations. It was like watching a family tree unfold in real time.

I stared at it, stunned. And there, at the top of the tree, was my name—clear as day.

Blood Inheritance

Name: Ethan Cromwell

House: Most Ancient House of Cromwell

Family Motto: Crescite et Florite (Grow and Flourish)

The Cromwell family has a history spanning over 2000 years in England, serving as a cornerstone of the magical community. Tracing its roots even further back to ancient times, the Cromwell family has been around for what seems like forever. Their motto reflects strength, growth, and resilience. The Cromwells aren't widely known, as they keep to themselves, preferring to marry Muggle born witches or wizards rather than other pure-blood families—a decision that has set them apart from the rest of wizarding society.

Head of the House: Theodore the Second Cromwell

Status: Deceased

Cause of Death: Killed while experimenting with runes that caused an explosion, destroying Cromwell Manor and killing his wife ten years ago.

Lady of the House: Marrie Van Cromwell

Status: Deceased

Cause of Death: Died in the same explosion.

Heir to the Most Ancient House of Cromwell: Ethan Cromwell

Ethan is the last surviving member of the Cromwell family. Upon accepting the title of Lord, he will be emancipated and inherit all of the family's wealth and properties.

Grizzleblot looked up at me from behind the desk, his sharp goblin eyes glinting with something between surprise and amusement. "Quite the surprise, isn't it?" he said in his gravelly voice. "Lucky you came in when you did. If not, we might've ended up handing your family vault to a distant relative." He gave a toothy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll call your vault manager. Give me about ten minutes."

With that, Grizzleblot rose from his seat, the screech of the chair echoing in the room, and disappeared through the door. The sound of the door clicking shut left me alone in the silence, trying to process what had just been revealed.

I hadn't expected this. Sure, I should feel something about my parents' deaths, but honestly, I couldn't bring myself to care much. They had abandoned me, thinking I was a Squib when I was younger. My magic had always been weak, barely noticeable, but it had grown over time in a way that most wizards' magic didn't. My magic felt... alive. Most wizards have a set limit that grows with training, but mine seemed to expand naturally.

The title of Lord didn't mean much to me. It was just a formality. But the resources? The vault? That could make all the difference. I wasn't about to walk away from the opportunities that came with being the last heir of an ancient family. The title would add credibility when I started selling potions and magical artifacts. I could see it now: Ethan Cromwell, Lord of the Most Ancient House of Cromwell—it had a ring to it, and people love a good title.

I was still lost in thought when the door creaked open again. A different goblin entered. This one was older, with deep scars marking his face and an expression that said he had no time for nonsense.

"Name?" he asked bluntly, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"Ethan Cromwell," I said, straightening up and meeting his gaze.

The goblin gave a curt nod. "I'm Grizzle Snagwort, your family vault manager. Let's get this over with."

He handed me a small, ornate box. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, was a ring. "This is your family ring," he said, his voice sharp. "Put it on. If the ring accepts you, you'll be recognized as the new Lord of the Cromwell House. Then we can move forward with the details of your vault and properties."

I opened the box and looked at the ring. It was elegant but sturdy—silver, with a thin golden line running through the middle and a sharp black stripe cutting across the band. The most noticeable detail was the five-leaf clover engraved in gold on the front, likely the Cromwell family crest. It felt heavy in my hand, its magic pulsing faintly.

Taking a breath, I slipped the ring onto my finger. Instantly, I felt a sharp sting, like a needle prick, and my heart jumped for a second. The magic in the ring surged through me, testing me, confirming my bloodline. Then, just as quickly, the sting faded, and I felt a strange warmth spread through my body. The magic of the ring blended with my own, locking into place like a puzzle piece I hadn't known was missing. There was something about it—something lucky, like the odds were suddenly stacked in my favor. Maybe that explained the clover on the ring.

Grizzle Snagwort watched, unimpressed, but he gave a nod. "The family ring has accepted you. Congratulations. You are now the Lord of the Most Ancient House of Cromwell."

I gave a small nod in return. It was a strange feeling, having this title suddenly placed on me, but I wasn't about to be rushed out the door. "Is that all?" he asked, his tone making it clear he was hoping this would be over.

"Not quite," I replied. "I want to know about my vault—and if there are any properties still tied to the Cromwell name."

Snagwort sighed but didn't argue. "Very well," he said. "I'll take you to your vault now. It contains your family's Galleons, heirlooms, and any other valuables. As for properties, the only one left is the land where Cromwell Manor once stood. The manor itself was destroyed in the explosion, but the land still belongs to you. If you wish, goblins can be hired to restore the ruins."

I thought about it. Having my own manor rebuilt, a base of operations, sounded appealing. "I'll consider it," I said. "But first, I want to see the vault."

"Follow me," Snagwort said, already heading for the door.

I followed him through the grand, polished corridors of Gringotts. The sound of clinking coins echoed faintly from deeper within the bank, and the marble floors gleamed under the dim lighting. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking deeper into something more important than just a bank vault. This place held power, and you could feel it in the air.

We eventually stopped in front of a massive door, engraved with the Cromwell family crest—the five-leaf clover, matching the one on my ring. My family's vault.