Morrin looked at Malfoy with open disdain.
“And another thing.
If you’re genuinely proud of your father’s wealth, you shouldn’t be standing here complaining about first-years not being allowed broomsticks.
You should have your father sponsor an entire Hogwarts Quidditch team and then get the rules changed.” He gave Malfoy a condescending smile.
“That is the power of capital.
Understand, brat?” With that, Morrin ignored Malfoy’s face turning an alarming shade of purple and turned towards the dumbstruck Madame Malkin.
“I like your workmanship, madam.
I’ll pay for both gentlemen’s robes.
And—” Morrin pointed towards the most expensive silk fabric in the shop.
“Make Mr Potter another three sets of everyday robes in that material.
Take the cost from this.
Whatever remains is your tip.” Madame Malkin looked at the bag of gold, and her smile immediately blossomed like a flower.
“Oh!
What a generous young gentleman!
Certainly, dear.
Certainly!” Harry stared at Morrin, his green eyes filled with gratitude and a kind of astonishment he had never experienced before.
For the first time in his life, he discovered just how good it felt to have someone standing up for him.
Malfoy, still perched on his footstool, glared furiously at Morrin’s retreating back.
His lips moved several times before he finally managed to spit out: “…Bloody nouveau riche.” Outside Madame Malkin’s, the sunlight over Diagon Alley remained dazzlingly bright.
Harry carried a bag containing his new robes, still looking somewhat dazed.
Everything that had just happened inside, the confrontation with Malfoy, Morrin’s domineering response, and the sheer extravagance with which he had thrown money around, had been an unprecedented shock to a boy who had spent most of his childhood living in a cupboard.
“Er…
Morrin,” Harry began awkwardly, gratitude filling his green eyes.
“Thank you, really.
But I can’t let you pay for everything.
I’ve got money.
Hagrid said I have—” “Stop there, Mr Potter.” Morrin raised one hand and elegantly cut him off, speaking as casually as though they were discussing the weather.
“It was a negligible social expense.
More importantly, it appears your large friend has brought you a surprise.” Harry followed Morrin’s gaze.
Hagrid was striding through the crowded street towards them.
His enormous moleskin coat made him look rather like a brown bear walking upright, but the expression on his face was extraordinarily gentle.
More importantly, he was carrying a huge cage.
Inside was a snow white owl, her head tucked beneath one wing as she slept soundly.
She was so beautiful that she looked like a little piece of winter fallen into the mortal world.
“Happy birthday, Harry!” Hagrid said breathlessly.
“Thought you hadn’t got a pet yet.
Toads are old-fashioned, an’ people don’t really bring cats much…
This here’s a snowy owl.
Useful, too.
She can carry your post.” Harry’s lips trembled.
For a long moment, he couldn’t say anything at all.
For a child who had never received a real birthday present in his life, this moment struck him even harder than discovering he was a wizard.
“Thank you…
Hagrid…” Harry managed, his voice catching.
Morrin stood quietly to one side and watched.
He might have been a rational man who placed self interest above almost everything else, but even he found nothing objectionable about such a warm scene.
While he was there, he casually activated the system and scanned the owl.
━━━━━ 🔍 SCAN ━━━━━ Scanning target: Snowy Owl (Magically Domesticated Variant) [Traits detected] 🔵 Blue | Long Range Navigation Give her a name, and she can find almost anyone.
━━━ 🟣 Purple | Sapience This bird is remarkably clever.
She can understand human speech and is even capable of looking down on her owner.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ “Not a bad pet,” Morrin commented.
Then he glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist.
“Mr Hagrid, I hate to interrupt such a touching moment, but I believe we ought to attend to business.
I only have a thousand Galleons in my pocket, and that won’t last very long in Diagon Alley.” “Oh, right!
Gringotts!” Hagrid slapped his forehead.
“Nearly forgot what we came for.
Harry’s got money to collect, and there’s…
well, there’s that ‘special job’ for Hogwarts too.” At the words ‘special job’, a gleam flashed through Morrin’s eyes.
Today was July 31.
According to the plot he remembered, Hagrid wasn’t merely taking Harry to withdraw money.
He was also going to the famous Vault 713 to retrieve the object created by Nicolas Flamel, the legendary alchemical artefact capable of granting immortality and transmuting base metals into gold.
The Philosopher’s Stone.
Morrin wet his suddenly dry lips.
If even a half giant like Hagrid and a child wizard like Harry could provide Purple and Red Traits, then what would the Philosopher’s Stone, the pinnacle of alchemy itself, contain?
Gold?
Or something even higher?
Something legendary?
I have to touch it.
Morrin set himself a new objective.
Even if it’s only for one second.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
The towering white marble building stood near the junction of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, its bronze doors gleaming beneath the sunlight.
A goblin in a scarlet and gold uniform stood outside, regarding every witch and wizard who entered with a wary, avaricious stare.
“That’s a goblin,” Hagrid murmured to Harry.
“Not a lot you want to mess with, Harry.
If you want to keep somethin’ safe, Gringotts is the safest place in the world, ‘cept Hogwarts, maybe.” As Morrin walked past the goblin, he turned his head slightly.
━━━━━ 🔍 SCAN ━━━━━ Scanning target: Goblin (Race) [Traits detected] 🟣 Purple | Metal Sense 🔵 Blue | Greed 🔵 Blue | Miserliness ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Not merely guards.
Natural born bankers.
Morrin sneered inwardly.
Handing control of the economy to another species.
The wizarding government really is run by idiots who’ve never studied macroeconomics.
They passed through a second set of silver doors and entered an enormous marble hall.
Hundreds of goblins sat behind tall counters.
Some weighed coins while others examined precious stones.
Hagrid led the two boys towards an unoccupied counter.
“Morning,” Hagrid said to the idle looking goblin behind it.
“We’ve come to take some money out of Mr Harry Potter’s vault.” “Have you got his key?” the goblin asked indifferently, without even looking up.
“Yes, yes, somewhere here…” Hagrid began rummaging through the countless pockets of his coat.
A collection of mouldy dog biscuits and inexplicable bits of machinery spilled across the counter.
The goblin wrinkled his long nose.
Standing beside them, Morrin lightly drummed his fingers against the marble.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
“Oh, and—” Hagrid finally produced a tiny golden key, then pulled out a letter with a rather secretive air.
“Professor Dumbledore sent me to collect somethin’ from Vault Seven Hundred and Thirteen.” The goblin took the letter and carefully examined it.
His manner became marginally more respectful.
“Very well.
Griphook!
Take these gentlemen down to the vaults.” ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The journey underground was essentially a roller coaster ride.
The goblin called Griphook ushered them into a battered little cart, which shot through the labyrinth of subterranean tunnels at terrifying speed.
Wind roared past their ears.
Now and then, they caught glimpses of bottomless underground lakes and blazing torches.
Hagrid’s face had gone green.
He clutched the edge of the cart as though he might be sick at any moment.
Harry, on the other hand, shouted with excitement, his hair whipped into complete disarray by the wind.
Morrin alone remained entirely composed.
He sat steadily in the cart with one leg crossed over the other.
The [Flying Talent] he had extracted from Malfoy had given him an extraordinary sense of balance and spatial awareness.
This degree of acceleration and weightlessness might as well have been a gentle stroll.
“This is your transportation system?” Morrin called loudly to Griphook.
“The efficiency is dreadful.
Why haven’t you installed magnetic levitation rails?” Griphook glanced back at the strange human child and bared a mouthful of sharp teeth.
“What are magnetic levitation rails?
Are they this exciting?” Morrin shook his head.
“An incomprehensible taste for unnecessary thrills.” At last, the cart stopped.
“Vault Six Hundred and Eighty Seven,” Griphook announced.
Harry’s vault.
The moment the door opened, mountains of gold coins, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts nearly blinded him.
“All yours, Harry,” Hagrid said with a grin.
Harry stared in disbelief.
He had spent his entire life believing he was penniless.
It turned out he was a rich heir.