Weight of a Name

Harry and Hermione stepped through the towering marble doors of Gringotts, the air inside immediately cooler than the bustling streets outside.

The sudden change in atmosphere sent a faint shiver down Harry's spine.

Massive stone pillars lined the grand hall, stretching up toward a domed ceiling adorned with intricate carvings of dragons, goblins, and ancient wizarding symbols. Gilded chandeliers cast flickering light across the polished floor, reflecting off the gold-inked lettering on a nearby plaque.

"Enter, stranger, but take heed..."

Harry's eyes scanned over the words, his brow furrowing as he read the chilling warning aloud under his breath.

"Take not, unless you're willing to pay the price."

His fingers twitched slightly as he glanced at Hermione, who had also stopped to read. Her expression was one of admiration for the craftsmanship, but Harry could see a hint of unease in her posture.

"This place feels... different," she murmured.

Harry nodded. "It's not like the rest of the alley."

Before they could take in more of the towering bank, a goblin approached, his sharp features unreadable beneath a long, hooked nose. His fine, embroidered robes set him apart from the clerks behind the counters, marking him as someone of importance.

"State your business," the goblin said curtly, his piercing black eyes flicking between them.

Harry hesitated. He hadn't exactly planned this far ahead. "Uh, I need to make a withdrawal, I think."

The goblin's gaze narrowed. "Name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

A ripple of motion passed through the bank. Nearby goblins paused in their work, some muttering to one another, others looking up with thinly veiled curiosity. Harry shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling exposed.

The goblin before them remained impassive, though there was the briefest flicker of something in his expression, recognition, perhaps, but not surprise. "You claim to be Harry Potter?"

Harry blinked. "Er—yes?"

The goblin let out a quiet, unimpressed huff. "Then you will provide proof. Many have come before you, making the same claim. They did not leave unscathed."

Harry stiffened at the ominous words, feeling Hermione tense beside him.

"How—how do I prove it?" he asked, trying not to let his nervousness show.

The goblin eyed him for a moment before turning briskly. "Follow me."

Harry swallowed and glanced at Hermione. She gave him a reassuring nod, though he could tell she was just as anxious as he was. Together, they followed the goblin deeper into the bank.

At the far end of the hall, beyond the counters and murmuring clerks, they were led into a smaller chamber. The room was dimly lit, with a single table in the center, its surface smooth and dark as obsidian. Atop it rested a simple silver dagger and a small, shallow stone bowl etched with runes.

"Place your hand over the basin," the goblin instructed. "A drop of blood will suffice. If you are who you say you are, the runes will verify your claim. If you are not..." His sharp teeth flashed in what might have been amusement, though his tone remained entirely neutral. "Then you will regret the attempt."

Harry's stomach twisted, but he stepped forward, clenching his jaw. He wasn't an imposter. He had nothing to fear, he hoped.

Taking the dagger, he pressed the tip to his finger, wincing slightly as it broke the skin. A single drop of crimson welled up before falling into the basin below.

The moment it touched the stone, the runes flared to life, glowing with a golden light. The goblin studied them for a few tense seconds before giving a slow nod.

"It appears you are telling the truth, Mr. Potter."

Harry exhaled, only now realizing he had been holding his breath. Hermione let out a relieved sigh beside him.

"Now," the goblin continued, his voice as measured as ever, "shall we proceed with your business?"

Harry flexed his stinging finger, watching as the golden glow faded from the runes. He swallowed, still uneasy despite the goblin's confirmation.

"So... what does that mean for me?" he asked cautiously. "Being Harry Potter, I mean."

The goblin studied him for a long moment, dark eyes assessing. "It means," he said, voice calm but firm, "that you are the rightful heir to any vaults or holdings associated with your name. However, before we proceed further, I must inform you that due to your age, certain accounts may have restrictions placed upon them."

Harry frowned. "Restrictions?"

"Indeed. Some assets, should they exist, may be sealed until you come of age or meet specific conditions outlined in any existing agreements."

Harry felt a tightness in his chest. The idea of restrictions implied that something was being kept from him, something he didn't even know existed before. "Does that mean I can't access any money at all?"

The goblin's thin lips curled slightly. "Not necessarily. If there is an active vault under your name, you may withdraw from it freely, within reason. However, I will require formal verification of your intent before I disclose any further details."

Harry hesitated. He wanted to know more, but there was a deep-rooted fear curling in his gut.

His dream had warned him about something within Gringotts, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face it just yet.

"...I think I'll wait on that for now," he said, carefully measuring his words. "I just came here today to help my friend exchange her money."

The goblin gave a slow nod, seemingly unbothered by the decision. "Very well. Follow me."

Harry turned to Hermione, who had been watching the exchange with rapt attention.

She still looked like she had a hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but to her credit, she stayed quiet as they followed the goblin back into the main hall.

The bank was just as imposing as before, but now, Harry felt a strange sense of weight on his shoulders.

He wasn't just Harry anymore, not in the eyes of the goblins.

He was Harry Potter, and that name carried expectations he didn't yet understand.

They were led to one of the long counters where another goblin clerk sat, scratching something onto a long scroll. He looked up as they approached, setting aside his quill.

"This is Miss Granger," the first goblin introduced. "She wishes to exchange Muggle currency for galleons."

The clerk gave Hermione a long, scrutinizing look before holding out a clawed hand. "The amount?"

Hermione hesitated for only a moment before reaching into her bag and pulling out the money her parents had given her. "Twenty pounds," she said.

The goblin took the notes, examining them with a critical eye. Then, without a word, he counted out three gold galleons, along with a handful of silver sickles and bronze knuts. He placed them in a small pouch and slid it across the counter.

"The exchange rate fluctuates," he said, "but this should be sufficient for most beginner purchases."

Hermione's eyes gleamed as she took the pouch, carefully inspecting the coins inside. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

The goblin only gave a short nod before turning back to his scroll, dismissing them entirely.

Harry and Hermione stepped away from the counter, and for the first time since entering, Harry let out a breath of relief.

"That was—" Hermione started.

"—A lot," Harry finished for her.

She nodded fervently. "I can't believe they didn't even seem surprised to see you. You'd think they'd have—I don't know, reacted more?"

Harry frowned. "I think they've had a lot of people pretending to be me."

Hermione bit her lip. "That's... unsettling."

Harry couldn't argue with that.

Still, they had what they came for. As they made their way back toward the massive doors, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he had scratched the surface of something massive.

And the goblins knew something about it.