Phineas walked into Gringotts and approached a goblin.
"Hello, I need to access the Black family vault."
The goblin scrutinized Phineas for a moment before asking,
"Do you have the key, sir?"
Phineas retrieved a small, ornate key from his pocket and handed it over.
"Of course. Here."
The goblin examined it carefully, nodded, and said,
"Very well. Please follow me."
He led Phineas and Kreacher through a side door next to the main hall, revealing a narrow stone passage lit by burning torches.
It was Phineas's first time in Gringotts, unsurprising given his age.
The passage sloped steeply downward, and a long rail track ran along the floor. Under the goblin's guidance, they climbed into a small, rickety cart.
The cart took off, speeding through the dark tunnels, deeper and deeper into the earth. They eventually arrived in a vast underground cavern, lined with massive gates carved into the stone.
But those were not their destination. The cart continued to the very lowest level of Gringotts—reserved for the ancient vaults of the twenty-eight Sacred Twenty-Eight families. These families, among the most powerful in wizarding Britain, had secured their treasuries here since Gringotts was founded. Many of them even held shares in the bank.
Finally, the cart came to a halt in front of an enormous gate made of some unknown blackened metal. It radiated a silent menace—no spell could force it open. Only goblin magic could unlock it.
Carved into the top of the gate was a striking crest: a shield bearing a mountain, two five-pointed stars, and a short sword. On either side leapt a pair of silver greyhounds—the Black family emblem.
The goblin turned to Phineas.
"Sir, the key, please."
Phineas handed it over and watched silently as the goblin began a complex series of motions. With a low groan, the gate unlocked and creaked open.
Inside was a colossal underground vault.
Gold Galleons lay in loose piles, scattered across the floor. The word discarded came to mind—not because the coins were unimportant, but because everything else in the vault was arranged with far more care.
Phineas didn't head toward the gold. Instead, he made his way to a far corner of the vault, where the family records indicated something more valuable was kept.
Sure enough, it was there—a timeworn box marked with the Black family crest.
It was clearly ancient and bore signs of age, but it also radiated potent magic.
This wasn't just a magical container—it was a legacy.
Unlike modern space-expanding items, this one was crafted with supreme care and rare enchantments. Rumor had it that decades ago, Newt Scamander himself had carried a similarly enchanted case built with the help of professors and students at Hogwarts, one that housed his magical beasts.
This box was smaller than Newt's, but it was far rarer.
In the wizarding world, it was well known that objects imbued with the Undetectable Extension Charm (also called the Traceless Stretching Spell) couldn't be stored inside other magically expanded spaces. Attempting to do so would cause catastrophic magical instability.
Yet this box was unique. Not only could it be safely stored inside other expanded spaces, but it could also accept additional enchantments—like a Shrinking Charm—without harm.
Even more impressive, the box had ironclad secrecy charms. Only members of the Black family, or those explicitly recognized by them, could open its true contents. Once bound to an owner, even other family members couldn't access its deeper spaces without permission.
"Alright, Kreacher—grab some Galleons. We're leaving," Phineas said, handing the box to the elf.
He gave only a vague instruction on how much to take. He didn't care.
The Black family was wealthy beyond imagination. Maybe not the richest in the wizarding world—but certainly among the top.
After thanking the goblin, Phineas and Kreacher made their way to their final stop: Ollivanders Wand Shop.
Ollivanders, despite its renown, was a small and rather shabby storefront.
Peeling gold letters on the door read:
"Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C."
In the window sat a single wand on a faded purple cushion.
The shop's interior was cramped, with nothing but a single bench and stacks upon stacks of narrow wand boxes piled to the ceiling. A fine layer of dust coated everything.
As Phineas stepped inside, a bell rang shrilly.
"Ah, a young wizard," said a soft voice from behind the counter.
"What can I do for you?"
Phineas looked up and saw a pale, elderly man with white hair and silvery eyes—Garrick Ollivander himself.
"Oh, do forgive me," the wandmaker continued, glancing at Kreacher.
"I didn't notice the house-elf. You must be Mr. Phineas Black. I assume you're here for a wand?"
Phineas nodded silently.
He knew well who Ollivander was—another member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and the most respected wandmaker in all of Britain. The Ollivander family had been crafting wands since the 4th century B.C., and though other wandmakers existed, nearly every young witch and wizard in the UK came here to buy their first wand.
Including him.