Albert stepped out of the secret chamber alongside Kreacher, returning to the grand main hall of the house.
He settled into a chair at the long dining table as Kreacher stood beside him attentively.
"Master, would you like something to eat?" Kreacher asked.
"Yes, please," Albert replied, nodding. "Just something to fill my stomach."
"Right away," the elf said and hurried off toward the kitchen.
No sooner had Kreacher disappeared than a brown owl swooped in through the open window. With graceful precision, it dropped a letter onto the table before flapping its wings and vanishing into the sky.
Albert stood and picked up the envelope. It was made of fine, rare parchment—unsealed—and addressed in shimmering emerald green ink:
No. 12, Quebec Street, Greenwich, London.
To the Noble House of Black.
Turning it over, Albert found a wax seal on the back—a bold letter "H" encircled by a lion, eagle, badger, and serpent.
He slit the seal open with a knife and pulled out the contents, immediately recognizing the letterhead:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Grand Sorcerer – Order of Merlin, First Class)
> Dear Mr. Albert,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Term begins on the first of September. Please send your owl with confirmation of your attendance by no later than July 31st.
Deputy Headmistress,
Minerva McGonagall
A list of required books and supplies is enclosed.
Albert knew the place mentioned in the letter. Diagon Alley. He'd read about it before—hidden behind a magical brick wall in a pub called The Leaky Cauldron.
Five minutes later, Kreacher emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate of fries and ketchup in one hand and a fish sandwich in the other.
"Ooooh," Albert said, his eyes gleaming. "That looks amazing. I'm starving."
Since being reborn in this world, Albert hadn't enjoyed a single proper meal. He had spent his entire childhood locked away in Azkaban with his father.
He took his first bite and immediately felt warmth rush through him, awakening old memories—ones from a past life. He remembered his mother baking bread for him, smiling as she insisted he eat properly to grow up strong.
He chuckled at the memory. Then, suddenly, a single tear slipped down his cheek.
"I wonder… are my parents from my past life still alive? Are they healthy?" he whispered.
He wiped his tears away and continued eating.
After finishing the meal, Albert turned to Kreacher.
"Kreacher… this is a bit awkward, but I should tell you—I've been accepted to Hogwarts. I'll need to buy supplies and books, of course, but I don't have any money. Did the family leave behind anything? A vault or savings of some kind?"
"Indeed, Master," Kreacher replied. "The family fortune was always kept hidden in your grandfather's private vault. A massive chest—so well protected that only a drop of blood from a true Black descendant can open it."
"There's a difference between a descendant and a family member," Kreacher explained. "Descendants are direct children or grandchildren of one individual. Family members include siblings, parents, or uncles—those tied by blood, but not necessarily in the direct line."
"Wait, really?" Albert's eyes widened. "Is there a lot of money in there?"
Kreacher smirked. "Enough to support not only your lifetime, Master, but your grandchildren's as well."
Albert's jaw nearly dropped. "Dear Merlin… Show me where my grandfather's room is!"
Kreacher guided him there, and Albert stood before the door, surprised by the golden embellishments. It struck him as odd—Blacks were known to favor black over any other color.
He opened the door and took his first step inside, only to be met with a voice:
"Ah! Welcome, my grandson. I've been waiting for you."
Startled, Albert raised his finger and cast, "Stupefy!"—the stunning spell.
The spell flew—but there was no enemy to strike.
"Easy, lad. No need to be alarmed."
Albert spun around, searching the room. "Ha ha ha!" the voice chuckled. "Up here!"
Albert looked up and saw a large, regal portrait hanging on the wall—an imposing man in military attire with jet-black hair.
"Greetings. My name is Ricklas Black. I'm your great-great-grandfather."
Albert blinked, astonished. He had never seen a portrait that could talk.
"I've never encountered a talking portrait before, so I was caught off guard. Apologies, Grandfather."
"Ho ho ho!" Ricklas laughed. "You're an interesting one. I knew you would be. Tell me—is your father still alive?"
"Yes, he is."
"Good. Very good."
"Grandfather… how long have you been in that portrait?"
Ricklas scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Hard to say… but it must be at least a hundred years. Maybe more."
"Then… you were here when my mother and grandparents died?!"
"Yes," Ricklas said solemnly.
"Then why didn't you save them?! Father told me you were a genius of the Black family. A wizard who rivaled even the headmasters of Hogwarts in your time!"
Ricklas sighed. "And what, my boy, do you expect a man in a portrait to do?"
Albert fell silent.
"When someone nears death," Ricklas continued, "they can leave a fragment of their soul behind—in a portrait. That's what gives us voice and memory. But we cannot act in the real world. Only rare cases—where the soul hasn't fully departed—can influence reality."
"I see…" Albert nodded. "Kreacher told me there's a hidden vault in this room. Where is it? I don't see anything."
"It's beneath the floor. You'll need to cast the Surgito charm to lift the enchantment hiding it. But first, you must learn that spell at Hogwarts and get a wand."
Albert grinned slyly.
"I already have both, Grandfather."
Ricklas' eyebrows rose. "Oh? You've already learned advanced magic? Hoh hoh! Just as I suspected. You are my grandson, after all!"
But his laughter was cut short when he saw Albert raise his finger and whisper, "Surgito."
The floor lit up in response.
"You… you can perform wandless magic?" Ricklas gasped.
"Yes. Why?"
Ricklas laughed so hard his frame shook within the canvas. "At last! I've seen someone perform wandless magic before I finally pass on!"
Albert left the portrait to revel in his excitement and returned to the task at hand.
A soft white glow appeared on the ground, revealing a trapdoor. Beneath it was a white staircase leading into darkness.
Albert descended.
It was pitch black, so he whispered, "Lumos," and his wand lit up, casting gentle light on the surrounding stone.
He moved slowly, cautiously. Something about this place felt… ancient. Heavy with secrets.
Two minutes later, he arrived.
A vast room, larger than he expected. In the far right corner stood an enormous, oddly shaped chest.
Albert didn't care about its strange design. His mind was consumed by one thing: gold.
He approached. On the top of the chest was a small slot—not for a key, but for something else.
He bit his finger, letting a drop of blood fall into the slot.
A moment passed.
Then, with a brilliant flash of light, the chest opened.
Albert shielded his eyes against the golden glow. As it dimmed, he looked inside and gasped.
"Sweet Merlin… Kreacher wasn't lying. No wonder Father had so much gold in the original story—he even bought Harry the most expensive broomstick!"
Albert let out a greedy laugh. "Hehehe… it's all mine! Well, half. I'll share it with Father."
He spent nearly an hour counting Galleons. After reaching one million, he still hadn't finished a quarter of the chest.
"It must be over eighty million Galleons in total," he murmured, stunned.
For reference:
One gold Galleon = 25 silver Sickles = 50 bronze Knuts.
One school textbook = one Galleon.
Albert's letter listed eight required books.
He grabbed a pouch and filled it with a thousand Galleons.
"This should last me about three years, especially if I'm frugal at Hogwarts," he reasoned. "Even if I only have 200 left by the end, it'll be worth it."
He divided the coins between his pockets and the pouch, then turned to leave—only to notice something glinting beside the chest.
A book. Hidden, glowing faintly.
Albert picked it up and opened the cover.
> If you're reading this, then you haven't died. That means you're of the Black family. Anyone else would've been dead the moment they touched this book.
Albert's breath caught. The warning was enough to make his blood run cold.
He read on.
> This book is divided into two sections. The first teaches a powerful spell: Penetratus—the Piercing Charm. Mastering it may take ten years, but once perfected, it can shatter any magical barrier, no matter how strong.
Only those who reach an advanced level in this charm may attempt to learn the second spell: Vivda Cabra.
Albert's eyes widened. Vivda Cabra. He remembered that in the original story, only his father had wielded such a rare spell.
"So that's how he got it…" Albert murmured.
"Even with my talent, I'll probably need two or three years to reach the advanced level. But that's a fair tr
ade for such power."
He turned the page and began to read the second section…
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