The grey light of morning filtered once more through the mist-draped turrets of Hogwarts as Harry and Hermione returned from their revelatory trip to Gringotts. Although the walk back through Diagon Alley had been relatively uneventful, the enormity of what had transpired left both of them in a reflective silence, each lost in thoughts that danced between awe and strategy. The revelation of House Emrys and the ancestral legacy lying dormant within Harry had not only deepened the scope of their mission, but reshaped its trajectory entirely.
They had returned to Hogwarts by Floo, choosing to avoid questions that might arise if seen returning through the public gate. In the quiet of Gryffindor Tower, well before the others had returned from breakfast, they sat together on the worn, overstuffed couch facing the fireplace, a magical ward cast around them to prevent eavesdropping.
"We need to catalogue what was in the vault," Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper. She had her notebook out already, her quill tapping an impatient rhythm. "Every artifact, every tome. If any of it relates to forgotten magical disciplines or lost enchantments..."
"The staff," Harry murmured. "It pulsed when I touched it. Like it was aware. Not in the same way as a wand, either. This was older magic. Raw, but structured."
Hermione looked up sharply. "That might be druidic craft. If it's of Emrys, it predates the formalization of wands entirely. Before the Goblin Rebellions, before Ollivander. You're dealing with pre-Charter magic."
Harry gave a grim smile. "And Dumbledore never said a word. He let me wander through six years of war with half of who I was locked away."
Hermione didn't reply at first. Her fingers tightened on her quill. "Maybe he didn't know. The goblins said the vault was sealed unless asked about directly. And who would've thought to ask about a maternal Druidic bloodline? It's not exactly in the House of Black family tree."
He turned toward the hearth, where the fire cracked softly against stone. "Still... we should've looked harder. I should've. In the other timeline, I never even questioned why I only had the Potter vault. Not once."
Hermione's voice softened. "Harry, that Harry didn't know to ask. This one does. That's why we're here."
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Later that day, they found themselves tucked into the corner of the library's Restricted Section, using Hermione's prefect credentials and a well-reasoned essay on the theory of magical legacy as cover. Though only first-years in the public eye, their temporal knowledge granted them access to layers of thought—and books—they otherwise would have waited years to reach.
Hermione had brought out a tome entitled Lineage in Legacy: Blood Magic Through Antiquity, and was carefully cross-referencing passages on bloodline activation, symbolic heraldry, and ethereal lineage identifiers. Harry, meanwhile, poured over Lost Houses and Forgotten Patrimonies, focusing on the Emrys crest and its integration with other magical families.
"Look at this," he said, pointing at a faded illustration in the margin of one page. It showed the Emrys sigil interwoven with three others. One he recognized as the Potter coat of arms, another the Black sigil—but the third was a tree encircled with runes. "Do you know that one?"
Hermione leaned in. "I think... yes, that's the House of Ywen. An ancient line, believed to be extinct since the 8th century. Mostly Welsh, tied to old forest magic. Some say they were animagus by birth."
Harry's brows lifted. "That's insane."
She flipped to another reference. "Not insane. Just forgotten. The bloodlines were never weak, only concealed. If your mother carried Emrys and Ywen magic, and passed it to you..."
"Then I've got far more than just a vault of trinkets."
Hermione nodded slowly. "You could be a confluence of three of the most potent magical houses in recorded history. And no one knew because no one ever looked."
They sat with that for a long moment.
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It wasn't until curfew was fast approaching that they left the library, walking in comfortable silence through the darkening halls. When they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry paused, hand on the frame.
"I need to tell Sirius," he said quietly. "If there's a way to get a message to him—securely—we need to start bringing allies in. He was almost a casualty of the last timeline. That can't happen again."
Hermione gave a solemn nod. "Agreed. But carefully. One step at a time. This changes everything, Harry. We're not just rewriting history now. We're digging up the foundations and choosing which stones to keep."
As they climbed through the portrait hole, Harry felt the weight of her words settle on his shoulders.
But he also felt the fire of something else—resolve.
The reckoning of names had only just begun.