The bathroom fire had been lit early, and it cast a flickering orange glow across the room. Thick steam rose from the tub and fogged the mirror above the sink, while tiny droplets beaded on the tiles. Jane knelt on the stone floor with her sleeves rolled past her elbows, ready to begin.
Morwenna sat in the warm water with her knees drawn to her chest. Her hair floated around her, the deep black strands threaded with pure white that swirled together like smoke. The silver streak at her temple stayed stark against the rising steam.
"Close your eyes," Jane said softly.
Morwenna obeyed. Warm water poured over her head, and the heat ran down her face, her neck, and her back, grounding her in the moment.
"Today is different," Jane continued, her voice low and calm. "You will see people, places, and the true breadth of the wizarding world. Things you have never seen before."
Morwenna opened one eye. "I saw it before. In the other life, I saw it on a screen."
"That isn't the same thing."
Morwenna knew she was right.
Jane worked the soap through the tangles with gentle, practiced fingers. She paused briefly, gathering the damp strands together as she studied their length. "Your hair is getting long again."
"I like it long," Morwenna replied.
Jane hummed softly, not disagreeing, her fingers continuing their careful work. After a moment, she said, "Today is important. You need to look like a Keith."
Morwenna opened both eyes. "What do Keiths look like?"
Jane smiled down at her. "They look clean and composed, as though they own every room they enter."
Morwenna closed her eyes again and let the words settle. "I can do that."
Jane continued to wash her hair, and the air filled with the scent of lavender. She rinsed the suds away, applied conditioner, and rinsed once more. When she finished, she wrapped Morwenna in a thick towel and dried her with quick, efficient movements.
The dress Jane had chosen was dark green, the signature Keith colour, adorned with delicate silver embroidery along the collar, cuffs, and hem. She had laid it out on the bed the night before.
Morwenna stood on a stool in front of the mirror while Jane fastened the small buttons at the back. "Why do I have to wear this?"
"Because you are visiting Gringotts as Nimue Keith," Jane explained, smoothing the fabric. "You aren't going as a mundane child, and first impressions matter." She paused, studying Morwenna's reflection. "You are taller."
Morwenna looked at herself. The green dress and silver thread suited her, and her hair had been brushed smooth, making the white sections bright against the black. The silver streak caught the morning light.
"I will be six in three months," Morwenna noted.
"You are five now. Don't rush."
Morwenna continued to study her reflection. The dark green fabric complemented her mismatched eyes, one red and one silver, and the unique patterns in her hair. She decided that she looked like a witch. More importantly, she looked like a Keith.
Jane met her gaze in the glass and nodded. "There."
. . .
Breakfast was simple, but the table was crowded. Toast, eggs, and steak covered the surface, and a pot of tea steamed at the center. Sunlight had finally broken through the heavy winter clouds, and the morning room was bright and airy.
Aldric sat at the head of the table with a newspaper in his hands. Seraphina sat beside him, her tea steaming in its cup. Saoirse was sprawled in her usual chair with her legs hooked over the armrest.
Morwenna climbed onto her stool. Cinder followed to settle under the table, his head resting on her foot.
"You are going to Gringotts today," Aldric said.
Jane nodded. "The letter specifically asked for Morwenna's presence."
Aldric lowered his newspaper, and his dark eyes settled on Morwenna. "Goblins aren't like us. They value contracts and precision, and they don't waste their words. If they have summoned you, it's because they must."
Morwenna swallowed a bite of toast. "Are they dangerous?"
The corner of Aldric's mouth twitched. "They are dangerous if you break a contract. If you keep your word, they are the most reliable allies you will ever have."
Saoirse snorted. "They also hate being stared at. And don't bow to them, because they think it's mocking."
Morwenna stored that away. "What should I prepare for?"
"Listen more than you speak," Aldric advised. "Watch the goblin who leads you, and don't offer your hand. They don't shake hands."
Morwenna nodded.
Seraphina buttered a piece of toast. "And don't touch anything unless they tell you to touch it."
"The carts can be fast," Saoirse added with a grin. "Make sure you hold on to something."
Jane set her cup down. "You aren't helping."
Saoirse shrugged. "I'm helping. She should know what to expect."
Seraphina looked at Jane. "Do you have the letter?"
Jane patted her coat pocket. "Yes, I have it."
"Then eat. You will need your strength for the day."
Morwenna finished her toast and ate some steak. Beneath the table, Cinder's tail wagged against her leg.
After they finished eating, Morwenna sat on the rug beside the fox. Tilly appeared with a ball of yarn, and Cinder batted at it with his paws, his ears perked and his tail high. Morwenna watched them but did not join in. Tilly eventually sat down nearby and looked up at her with his large eyes.
"Little miss is thinking hard," the house elf remarked.
Morwenna looked at him. "I'm always thinking hard."
Tilly's ears twitched. "Tilly knows."
She patted his hand. "I will be back this afternoon."
Tilly's eyes grew wet. "Tilly will wait."
. . .
The Floo fire in the entrance hall burned low and green. Morwenna had never used it. She had watched Celestine, Lucien, Roxane, and other family step through the flames and vanish, but she had always traveled by carriage, car, or on foot.
Now it was her turn.
"The powder," Jack said, gesturing toward the mantel. "Take a handful."
Morwenna reached into the stone jar. The powder was fine and silky, shimmering in the firelight.
"Throw it into the flames and then say 'Diagon Alley' clearly. Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand."
Morwenna looked at the green fire. She threw the powder into the hearth. The flames roared, turning brilliant green and gold. The heat was sudden and intense, but not painful.
"Diagon Alley."
She gripped Jack's hand tightly. Jane went first, stepping into the fire and vanishing instantly. Morwenna followed.
The world spun. Chimneys, hearths, and rooms blurred past. She kept her eyes open through the entire journey. She stumbled out of a hearth, and Jack caught her before she fell.
They stood in a dingy pub with dark wood walls and a floor covered in fresh sawdust. A man behind the bar polished a glass with a dirty rag.
"The Leaky Cauldron," Jack said. "The entrance to Diagon Alley is in the back."
Morwenna looked around the nearly empty pub. A couple sat in a far corner drinking tea, while a man in a purple cloak read his newspaper. Jack led her through the back door to a brick wall, grey and solid.
Jack tapped his wand against the bricks in a pattern. They shifted and rearranged themselves until an archway formed, opening onto Diagon Alley.
Morwenna had seen this place on a screen in her other life, built from sets and moving pictures, but this was real.
The cobblestones were uneven beneath her feet, and the shops leaned against one another. Their windows were crammed with cauldrons, potion bottles, broomsticks, and other things she could not name. One shop sold owls that turned their heads to watch the passersby with wide eyes.
Witches in pointed hats and wizards in long robes walked past them. She saw a child her own age dragging a parent toward a shop with a sign that read Quality Quidditch Supplies. A woman walked past carrying a cage of owls. A man in purple robes argued with a goblin outside a shop. A laughing child ran past while a chocolate frog tried to escape his hand.
Morwenna stared at the spectacle.
Jane's hand tightened around hers. "Keep walking. Gringotts is at the end of the street."
They passed a quill shop, a robe shop, and a bookshop with moving portraits in the window. The figures waved as she passed. Morwenna did not wave back. She was too busy taking everything in.
The street widened, the buildings grew taller, and the crowds thinned. Gringotts rose at the end of the alley, a massive structure of gleaming white marble with enormous pillars. The doors shifted from bronze to silver and finally to gold as they approached.
An inscription was carved deep into the stone above the entrance:
Enter, stranger, but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed.
Morwenna read the words twice, letting the warning sink in.
A goblin stood at the entrance, much shorter than Morwenna had expected, but his sharp face and dark, piercing eyes were intimidating. He wore a crisp uniform of red and gold. His gaze lingered on Morwenna as they walked past him into the main hall.
The interior was vast. Polished marble floors reflected the light of grand crystal chandeliers hanging from a ceiling lost in shadow. Long counters ran the length of the room, each manned by a goblin scratching at a ledger.
The sound of hundreds of quills filled the air, a constant rhythmic scratching that echoed through the space. The walls were accented with gold, and Morwenna caught her reflection in the floor. A young girl in a dark green dress looked back at her, black hair threaded with white and a distinctive silver streak.
Jack approached the main desk. A goblin looked up from his work.
"We have an appointment," Jack said, placing the letter on the counter.
The goblin read the document, his eyes flicking to Morwenna. "Wait."
He disappeared through a door behind the counter and returned a moment later. "Follow me."
The goblin led them through the door and down a long corridor. The ceilings were lower here, the walls rough stone rather than polished marble. He stopped at a door and knocked. A voice from inside called, "Enter."
The goblin opened the door and stepped aside. The room was small but comfortable, with dark wood panelling, a large desk, and a fireplace where a low fire burned. A small table nearby held a tea set. A goblin stood behind the desk, taller and older than the one at the door. His face was lined with deep creases, and he wore professional clothes. His eyes were sharp.
"I am Threndak." He gestured to the chairs. "Senior Account Manager and the Alberich Primary Accounts Division. This is a temporary appointment. Sit."
Jane and Jack sat. Morwenna climbed onto the third chair. Her feet did not quite reach the floor.
Threndak poured the tea and set the cups on the table with a plate of small biscuits. "The instrument that alerted us to your existence was created by the trust's founder," he explained.
"It's designed to detect the birth of an Alberich. When it activated, we cross-referenced recent births and found that only two families had a union between a Emrys and a LeFay." He looked between Jack and Jane. "Yours was one of them."
He paused and turned to Morwenna. "We believe you are the Alberich the instrument detected, but we must confirm it." Morwenna's hand tightened around a biscuit she had picked up but not yet eaten.
"There are three confirmations." Threndak held up one finger. "First is the blood connection. We require a single drop of blood to place in a reading instrument, which will confirm your lineage."
He raised a second finger. "Second is the magic connection. You will hold another instrument and channel your magic into it so we can confirm the nature of your power."
A third finger. "Third involves a separate room and another instrument. The founder's instructions require privacy for this step. Only Nimue and I will be present."
Jane's hand found Jack's.
"These are the founder's instructions," Threndak said. "I can't change them."
Jane looked at Morwenna, then at Jack. He gave a small nod.
"We understand," Jane said.
Threndak set down his cup. "Shall we begin?"
. . .
Threndak walked to a cabinet against the wall and opened it. Inside were three objects.
The first was a small silver bowl etched with intricate runes, heavy as a large coin in his palm. The second was a smooth black stone, oval and polished to a high shine. The third was a clear crystal sphere floating silently above a small silver stand. He set the bowl and the stone on the desk. The sphere remained in the cabinet.
"The blood confirmation first," Threndak said.
Morwenna held out her hand. Threndak took a small silver needle from his pocket. He pricked her finger. The sting was brief. A single drop of blood welled up and fell into the silver bowl. The runes glowed, shifting from gold to green and back to gold.
Threndak studied the light. "Confirmed. Emrys and LeFay lineage is present, along with multiple additional lines." He wiped her finger with a clean cloth, and the small cut closed instantly. He set the bowl aside and turned to the next test. "Now, the magic confirmation."
He gestured toward the black stone. "Hold it in both hands. Imagine the energy inside you and guide it into the stone."
Morwenna looked at the object, uncertain. She closed her eyes and reached inward. She found the cold in her chest, the sensation behind her eyes, and the quiet spaces between her ribs. She located the fire, the shadows, the dragon behind her right eye, and the frost behind her left. She drew on those forces and pushed them outward.
The stone grew warm, then cold, then warm again. It glowed, shifting through silver, red, blue, and gold, the colours layering and blending together. Threndak watched, his face unreadable.
"Confirmed," he said. "The magic signature matches Alberich parameters."
He took the stone and returned it to the cabinet. Morwenna opened her eyes. Her hands were shaking.
"The third confirmation must be done in a separate room," Threndak explained. "As per the founder's instructions, only Nimue and I may be present." He looked at Jane and Jack. "May I take her?"
Jane hesitated, but Jack put a hand on her arm. "Yes," he said.
.
The separate room lay behind another door off the main office. Threndak opened it and gestured for Morwenna to enter. It was round, with stone walls and no windows. A single torch burned in a bracket, casting flickering shadows.
In the centre stood a basin carved from heavy black rock. The liquid inside was still, a thick silver substance that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. It resembled a Pensieve, but thicker, its contents moving more slowly.
Threndak sat on a stool beside the basin and gestured for Morwenna to sit opposite him. "This is the third confirmation," he said, his voice low. "The first two were sufficient for the stipend, but for full access to the Alberich vault and the other two vaults, we must go further."
Morwenna's heart pounded against her ribs.
"The founder was Saelvigsahira Alberich, whom you know as Salazar Slytherin," Threndak said. He paused. "He predicted an Alberich would appear in this era and left instructions granting them full authority. Not just access, but complete authority."
He gestured toward the basin. "This instrument is the inverse of a Pensieve. A Pensieve projects memories outward; this receives what the candidate offers. It uses the founder's encoded perception to read your entire existence, including any past life you have had."
Morwenna's breath caught in her throat.
"It reads alone," Threndak assured her. "I won't see what it sees. I will only see the final result." He reached into his robes and withdrew a small silver knife. "This confirmation requires your heart blood. A single drop, and not from an ordinary wound."
Morwenna's hand moved to her chest.
Threndak raised the knife and began to speak in Gobbledegook. The words were sharp and guttural, echoing off the stone walls, thickening the air. A gold light wrapped around his hand as he returned to English.
"I swear that I will extract exactly one drop of heart blood from Nimue Keith. I will use that drop only for the purpose of this confirmation, and I will do no harm."
The light pulsed once and then sank into his skin. Threndak lowered the knife. "Now. Imagine your heart. Not the organ itself, but the centre where your magic lives and your soul is anchored. Be willing to give one drop, and I will handle the rest."
Morwenna closed her eyes. She gathered the cold, the fire, the shadows, the dragon and frost behind her eyes. She focused on the place where they met. "I'm ready."
Threndak's hand hovered over her chest. His fingers did not touch her, but a gentle, warm pull tugged at her core. Her throat tightened, and she coughed. A single drop of blood rose from her chest, dark red and almost black in the torchlight. It landed on the silver liquid, and the surface rippled.
The torch flickered wildly. Words appeared on the basin.
She is an Alberich.
The words faded. A single word replaced them.
Vethara.
The liquid stilled. Threndak stood and helped Morwenna from her chair, his hand on her arm. "Return to your parents," he told her. "I will join you shortly."
. . .
Jane pulled Morwenna into her arms the moment she crossed the threshold. Her hands moved over the girl's face, shoulders, and arms.
"I'm fine," Morwenna said.
Jane didn't let go. Jack stepped forward and set his hand on her shoulder. Threndak went to the cabinet and retrieved a small glass vial filled with a pale green liquid.
"Blood and vitality restoration," the goblin explained. "For the heart blood."
Morwenna drank. The liquid was cold and thick, yet warm, tasting of mint and fresh earth. The hollow sensation in her chest faded, replaced by fullness and stability.
Threndak reached under the desk and pulled out several thick leather folders, heavy with age. Before opening them, he raised his hand, and the gold light of a magical oath returned.
He spoke in Gobbledegook first, the words longer and more complex than before. When he returned to English, his voice was low and precise. "I swear that I won't withhold information. I won't give half-hearted explanations, and I will tell Nimue Keith everything the founder's instructions require me to tell her. I will never reveal the core details or any private information I have learned in this room to anyone else."
The light pulsed and sank into his skin.
Threndak opened the first folder. "Saelvigsahira Alberich established this trust. You know him as Salazar Slytherin. First, as a confirmed Alberich, you will receive a monthly stipend from his vault. These payments began on the day you were born and will continue until you die."
He opened the second folder. "The other two vaults are Slytherin and Pendragon."
Jane's eyebrows rose. Jack leaned forward.
"Saelvigsahira was adopted by Arthur Pendragon and took the name. He also founded the house of Slytherin."
Threndak looked at Morwenna. "The third confirmation was necessary because of these two vaults. The founder left a note stating that around this era, specifically the year 1970 or later, an Alberich would appear. That individual would have full access to all three vaults."
He paused. "You are the third Alberich to possess that level of authority since the trust was founded."
Morwenna stared at him. "The third? There were two others before me?"
"Yes, and they are recorded in our archives. Their names aren't relevant to your situation." Threndak turned a page. "The founder left two specific instructions. First, the third Alberich is appointed as heir apparent to both the Slytherin and Pendragon lordships."
Morwenna's mind went blank.
Threndak watched her for a moment, then continued, his tone steady. "You can hold the Slytherin headship yourself, and then pass it down through two generations of your descendants. After that, it returns to the established heir line."
Morwenna blinked, still trying to follow.
He went on, clarifying without pause. "Saelvigsahira was an Alberich before he ever became a Slytherin. That means Alberich authority takes precedence."
Morwenna drew in a slow breath.
Threndak's gaze sharpened slightly. "If the Slytherin line declines again, an Alberich can step in and take the headship. Three generations at most. After that, it returns to the heir line."
Jack's hand gripped the arm of his chair, and his knuckles turned white.
"Pendragon is different," Threndak said, his voice careful. "The founder granted you the status of heir, the prince. However, he didn't specify how that title would pass to later generations. His notes say only, 'let's see later.'"
Morwenna nodded. She didn't know what else to do.
Threndak opened the second folder. "The second instruction is that you must return to Gringotts after your third magical maturity, as soon as possible. There's another instruction waiting for you, but the founder wouldn't leave it with us."
Morwenna stored that away. She would return when she was seven.
Threndak opened the third folder. "The name that appeared during the confirmation, Vethara, is the name Saelvigsahira's instrument gave you. His proxy read your existence."
Morwenna's throat went dry.
"'Veth' belongs to the fire-breath sound family, which has ancient goblin roots. 'Ara' means return or cycle." Threndak met her eyes. "Vethara. The fire that returns."
He paused before adding, "Your full goblin name is Vethara Janeth Morganaadthadth. It's a personal name, signifying you are the daughter of your mother's line and of Morganaadth's line. Saelvigsahira was also known as Morganaadth, a clan leader in the goblin kingdom."
Jane's hand went to her mouth.
"He appointed you as the heir to his clan," Threndak said.
The room went quiet.
"Every goblin cub receives a custom weapon," Threndak explained. "As the next clan leader, you will receive two. Return in three months to test which weapons suit you. Six months after that, you will receive them and be formally recognised as the heir."
He leaned forward. "Before the ceremony, you must take lessons here for at least one month. You need to understand our traditions and values. You will live here for two to three months each year until you go to Hogwarts."
Morwenna looked at her parents. Jane's face had gone pale, and Jack's jaw was set tight.
"That's everything," Threndak said. "Do you have any questions?"
Morwenna opened her mouth. No words came.
Jane spoke instead. "Can we keep the same account manager?"
Threndak inclined his head. "The choice is yours."
Jane glanced at Jack. He nodded.
"We are satisfied," she said.
Threndak pulled a thick parchment from the folder. It was heavy and covered in small, tight writing. "This summarises everything we have discussed. There's one original and three copies. Nimue must sign each one." He placed a quill on the table next to a small silver dish. "One more drop of blood for the ink."
Morwenna held out her finger. Threndak pricked it again. The blood fell into the dish, and the ink darkened and swirled. She picked up the quill. Her hand was steady as she signed her name four times.
Nimue Keith.
Each signature was identical, neat and precise, just as she had practiced.
Jack picked up the silver dish and held it over the fire. The ink burned away, and the residue turned to ash. Threndak watched without comment, then stood. "I will escort you out."
Morwenna walked between her parents as they left the room and headed down the corridor. They passed through the great hall, the scratching of quills still filling the air, and moved past the bronze doors to the marble steps outside.
The air was cold, and the sky remained a dull, heavy grey. Morwenna looked back at the bank. Vaults, a stipend, two lordships. A goblin name. An official heir. She was the fire that returns.
Jane took her hand. "Come. We still have to see Dr. Meadows."
Morwenna nodded and walked.