Chapter 12

After finishing my business at Gringotts, Snagwort walked me to the entrance. With a nod of thanks, I stepped outside, setting my sights on the next task—getting the Trace removed from my wand at the Ministry of Magic.

I knew where the Ministry was—deep underground in Whitehall, London, hidden beneath the HM Treasury building. It wasn't far, but I'd have to navigate the city streets to get there. With a final glance back at Gringotts, I started my journey.

The familiar bustle of Diagon Alley was in full swing, witches and wizards going about their day, some with bags of shopping, others hurrying toward their next errand. I left the magical part of the city behind, stepping out through the hidden brick wall into the streets of London. The energy shifted as I moved from the alley into the everyday world—cars rushing by, pedestrians chatting and walking with purpose. The steady rhythm of the city felt grounding, a reminder that magic and non-magic life coexisted, even if most people were unaware of it.

I blended in easily with the crowd, keeping my head down as I walked through London's winding streets. The sounds of traffic and distant conversations created a background hum as I moved closer to Whitehall, where the Ministry's hidden entrance lay beneath the unassuming Treasury building. From the outside, it looked like just another government office. But underneath, far below the surface, was where the real work of the magical world took place.

As I neared the entrance, I found the discreet spot where I knew I could access the Ministry. I stepped inside and took the magical lift down, descending into the underground structure. The Ministry of Magic was vast, with departments stretching far below the city, keeping magical affairs organized and, most importantly, hidden.

The Ministry's job was to protect the balance between magical and non-magical worlds, ensuring that the secrets of magic remained safe. One of their many duties was enforcing laws that kept magical abilities from being exposed or misused. The Trace, which monitored underage magic use, was part of that enforcement. Now that I was considered an adult in the eyes of magic, I could finally get it removed.

I stepped out of the lift, making my way through the busy corridors of the Ministry. People hurried past me, their robes flowing as they moved between departments, handling everything from Magical Law Enforcement to Transportation and even the mysterious Department of Mysteries.

I was focused, knowing that today marked a step toward full independence. Getting the Trace removed meant freedom—freedom to use magic whenever I wanted, without restriction. And that was exactly what I intended to do.

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I walked into the department that handled wand traces, approaching the clerk who was busy working at her desk. She barely looked up from her paperwork as I approached.

"Good afternoon, madam. I'm here to get my Trace removed," I said, keeping my tone polite but firm.

She glanced at me and frowned. "You don't look old enough. Go away," she said dismissively, clearly not in the mood to deal with me.

I held back a sigh of frustration and instead showed her the ring on my finger. "I am Lord of the Most Ancient House of Cromwell," I said, keeping my voice steady but loud enough to make a point. "I've been emancipated, as I'm the last living member of my line. I demand to have the Trace removed."

I didn't want to cause a scene, but it seemed like the only way to get what I needed. If there was one thing I knew about the Ministry, it was that you had to stand your ground, especially when dealing with bureaucrats who looked down on anyone they thought was beneath them.

Her eyes widened, and her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Lord Cromwell. I'll fetch someone with higher authority," she stammered, quickly getting up from her desk and rushing off.

It wasn't long before she returned with another wizard, who looked more professional and carried himself with a sense of importance. "Lord Cromwell, my sincerest apologies for the delay," he said. "I'm Leonardo, the Director of Magical Tracing. We've reviewed the records, and it seems you are indeed emancipated by both law and magic. We'll proceed with the removal of the Trace immediately."

I gave a small nod of acknowledgment, satisfied that things were finally moving forward. They quickly performed the necessary spellwork, and within moments, the Trace was gone. I thanked them curtly, not wanting to linger, and left the Ministry.

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**POV: Leonardo**

As soon as Ethan Cromwell left the office, I slumped back in my chair, my mind racing. *How in Merlin's name is he still alive?* That explosion… it should have killed every last one of them. It was Voldemort's plan, a clean way to eliminate the Cromwell line—wipe them out, along with all the knowledge they protected.

But here he was—the last heir, walking around like nothing had happened, wearing that ring. The *Cromwell* ring. My jaw clenched. That ring meant he had access to their vault at Gringotts. Inside that vault were tomes of ancient magic, rituals, and spells that were older than most families still alive today. Magic Voldemort himself coveted.

*Damn it.* We had orchestrated the explosion at Cromwell Manor so carefully. Voldemort wanted it to look like an accident, like one of the Cromwells' risky rune experiments had gone wrong. No one would suspect it was deliberate. And it worked—or at least, we thought it had. We assumed the entire family was gone. But now? This... this complicates things.

Ethan Cromwell, alive and walking free, was a problem. A big one.

*I'll have to report this to Voldemort,* I thought, unease gnawing at me. The Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased to hear that one of his carefully laid plans had failed. Not just any plan either—one that was meant to erase an entire bloodline, one that stood in the way of his rise to power. And it wasn't just about the family itself; it was about what they had locked away. If Cromwell accessed his family's vault… if he got his hands on the forbidden magic in there, it could tip the scales in ways none of us were prepared for.

I rubbed my temples, knowing I had to handle this carefully. The explosion was supposed to be the end of the Cromwells. The fact that the boy had survived was an oversight, one that could cost me if I didn't act quickly.

*But I can't act too rashly.* If Cromwell disappeared too suddenly, it would raise suspicion. The Ministry would investigate, maybe even some of the other old families would start poking around. The last thing I needed was for anyone to start asking questions about the explosion—or worse, realize it wasn't just an unfortunate accident.

No, I needed to watch him, quietly. Track his movements. See what he knows, what he's after. If he goes after the vault, then we'll deal with him. Voldemort doesn't need to know every detail right now. I'll keep it quiet, for now.

*But if he gets too close...* I shook my head. It won't come to that. One way or another, Ethan Cromwell would meet the same fate as the rest of his family. No one defied the Dark Lord and survived.