The goblin Grimclaw led us deeper into Gringotts than I had ever been before, down narrow, twisting passages where the marble gleam gave way to cold, rough stone. The cart ride had long since ended; now we traveled on foot, the air growing heavier with ancient magic the farther we went.
"Vault 13," Grimclaw announced at last, stopping before a towering door carved with serpents and unfamiliar runes. His black eyes glinted in the torchlight. "It has not been opened in nearly a millennium."
Tom and I exchanged a look. A millennium. Even the word tasted powerful.
Grimclaw extended a clawed hand toward Tom. "Place your palm on the door."
Tom didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, lifted his hand, and pressed it against the cold surface. For a heartbeat, nothing happened then the stone warmed, glowing with a deep green light. The serpents shifted, hissing softly as the locks began to grind open.
The door creaked back with the slow, reluctant groan of something ancient waking from slumber.
Beyond it...was a treasure trove.
I sucked in a breath. Vault 13 was no ordinary hoard of gold and jewels though there were plenty of those, piled high in gleaming mounds. No, this was a vault built for a king or a conqueror.
The air was thick with protective magic, the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Every item seemed to hum with quiet, simmering power.
At the center of it all stood a raised dais, upon which rested several objects of unmistakable importance A gleaming circlet wrought in the shape of entwined serpents, their emerald eyes sparkling wickedly. A heavy staff carved from dark wood, crowned with a serpent's head. A book, ancient and leather-bound, its cover marked by a silver sigil of a serpent devouring its tail. And finally, a simple black ring, set with a single square-cut emerald, its magic pulsing faintly even from here.
"These are the artifacts of Salazar Slytherin himself," Grimclaw said reverently. "Only the true heir may claim them."
Tom stepped forward slowly, as if drawn by an invisible tether. He reached out and picked up the ring first, slipping it onto his right hand. The moment the metal touched his skin, the air around us thickened and I could feel the vault itself acknowledging him.
Tom's shoulders straightened. He looked...different. Taller. More dangerous. As if a piece of him that had been missing had finally clicked into place.
Grimclaw bowed low. "My lord Slytherin."
I smirked, crossing my arms. "Well, would you look at that."
Tom glanced over at me, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
Grimclaw straightened. "Many have tried to claim this vault, but the magic rejected them all. Salazar Slytherin was wise he wished only for a worthy heir to carry on his legacy."
"And so he has one," I said lightly, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off my sleeve.
Tom picked up the circlet next, studying it with a faint frown. I could practically see the gears turning in that brilliant mind of his.
But I had my own concerns.
"Grimclaw," I said sweetly, flashing a smile that made the goblin's ears twitch, "how does one go about using a title like 'Lord Slytherin' if they're still legally named Tom Riddle? It doesn't exactly scream pure-blood supremacy, does it?"
Tom shot me a look, half amused, half exasperated.
Grimclaw gave a sharklike smile. "A legal name change is simple enough, if you wish it. It requires a ritual and a blood signature in the Book of Ancient Houses."
I turned back to Tom, raising an eyebrow. "Well, my lord," I teased, "if you want people to bow and scrape properly, you might want to do something about that little orphan-boy name."
He narrowed his eyes at me in a way that would have terrified anyone else. I only grinned wider.
"And while we're at it," I added casually, "you should think about which Ministry seats you'll want to claim. I hear being Lord Slytherin entitles you to a seat on the Wizengamot...maybe even others."
Tom looked genuinely intrigued now, his fingers absently stroking the serpent's head of the staff.
"And," I continued, enjoying the way his attention sharpened on me, "if you're going to make a grand entrance, people need to know that the Heir of Slytherin has returned, don't they? Can't exactly keep that sort of thing a secret."
Grimclaw bowed again, sharp as a blade. "For the right payment, Gringotts can ensure the news reaches the Prophet...and elsewhere."
Tom turned to me, something almost like amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
I smirked and curtsied mockingly. "Are you alright with that...my lord?"
Tom actually chuckled a deep, rich sound I rarely heard from him. "You're really something, Carina Malfoy," he said, shaking his head.
I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Why, thank you."
The transaction was completed swiftly after that.
Grimclaw brought out a series of ancient parchments, each one bearing seals so old and intricate they looked as if a strong breeze might dissolve them into dust. Tom signed with a few elegant strokes of the quill, his movements sharp and deliberate. Watching him was like watching a blade being forged beautiful, lethal, inevitable.
With each signature, the magic in the air thickened. It wrapped around him, coiling like invisible serpents, binding him more tightly to his inheritance. The vault the artifacts the name
"Lord Tom Marvolo Slytherin," he announced formally, voice echoing off the stone walls.
I clapped my hands once, slow and mocking. "Very impressive," I drawled. "Remind me to start curtsying properly from now on."
Tom slid me a look. "I won't hold my breath."
I smiled sweetly, ignoring the warmth curling low in my stomach. There was something exhilarating about seeing him like this powerful, untouchable, fully stepping into who he was always meant to be.
Grimclaw escorted us back toward the surface, but not before loading a sleek black trunk with several of the less delicate Slytherin heirlooms Tom's personal spoils of victory. The circlet, the ring, the staff, and the leather-bound tome were locked within, protected by layers of goblin-forged wards that shimmered faintly under the torchlight.
We emerged into the marble grandeur of the Gringotts main hall once more, blinking against the sudden brightness.
As we stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air, I stretched luxuriously, casting a sly glance at Tom. "So," I said lazily, "what's next, my lord? Off to buy yourself a ridiculously ostentatious manor? Perhaps a throne carved out of basilisk bones?"
Tom smirked faintly, adjusting the trunk's handle in his hand. "Tempting," he said, tone dry.
We strolled down Diagon Alley at an easy pace, the crowd parting subtly around us without even realizing why. Tom's presence had shifted he was magnetic now, impossible to ignore.
I bumped my shoulder lightly against his as we walked. "Tell me something," I said, voice casual. "Are you seriously planning on going back to that... what do you call it... muggle hellhole?"
Tom shot me a sidelong look. "The orphanage," he said shortly.
"Right," I said airily. "Why would you even think of going back there when you now own enough land and wealth to feed your descendants for the next ten generations?"
He didn't answer right away. His expression was unreadable.
I pressed, voice turning teasing. "Or do you have some deep, sentimental attachment to moldy walls and the scent of cabbage?"
Tom gave a short, humorless laugh. "Hardly."
"Good," I said briskly. "Because it would be criminally stupid. Honestly, Tom. You have estates. Manor houses. Castles, probably. Real castles. The only thing you should be returning to that orphanage for is to set it on fire."
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Violent, Carina."
I beamed at him. "You love that about me."
His lips twitched, betraying the faintest hint of amusement.
"And anyway," he added after a moment, voice low and almost almost warm, "who said I was going back?"
I blinked up at him, playing dumb. "Oh? Then where are you planning to go?"
He shrugged one shoulder, the movement deceptively casual. "Crashing at your house."
I stared at him for a beat. Then, deliberately, I grinned. "Obviously. What else are old, manipulative friends for?"
He gave a quiet huff of laughter, the kind he reserved only for me. It wasn't warm, exactly Tom Riddle didn't do warm but it was something rarer, something sharper and more real.
"And anyway," I added, tossing my hair over my shoulder, "you need a place to stay if you're going to attend the Yule Ball tomorrow."
Tom stilled slightly, looking down at me. "Ball?" he echoed.
I waved a hand vaguely. "Oh yes. It's a whole thing. Pureblood politics. Dreadfully boring unless you know how to amuse yourself."
He regarded me thoughtfully, dark eyes glittering with something that made my heartbeat pick up slightly.
"And are you planning to amuse yourself, Carina?" he asked softly.
"Naturally," I said, smirking. "Someone has to make it interesting."
There was a beat of silence between us, charged and humming.
Then I tilted my head at him, mock-impatient. "Come on, Tom. Ask me."
He blinked. "Ask you what?"
I rolled my eyes extravagantly. "To the ball, obviously."
He actually looked amused, which was rare enough to make me feel like I'd won a prize. "Do I have to?"
I tossed my head, pretending to turn away from him. "No, of course not. I'm sure you'll find some desperate Parkinson girl to hang off your arm instead."
Tom reached out and caught my wrist lightly, not enough to hurt just enough to stop me.
I looked back at him, eyebrow arched.
He studied me for a long moment, mouth curving into the slow, dangerous smile he usually reserved for manipulating teachers or charming shopkeepers.
"Carina Malfoy," he said, voice low and velvet-smooth, "would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"
I pretended to think it over, tapping a finger against my lips. "Hmm. Let me consider. Do I want to risk being seen with the most arrogant, insufferable boy at Hogwarts?"
His grip on my wrist tightened just slightly.
I smiled wickedly. "Fine. I'll go. Only because I know you'd be devastated if I didn't."
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," I said sweetly, stepping closer so he had no choice but to look down at me, "you can't seem to stay away."
Our gazes locked. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of us the pulse between us fast and hot and electric.
Tom released my wrist slowly, almost reluctantly. "You'll regret it," he said softly.
"Maybe," I said, tilting my head. "But it'll be fun first."
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