{Vault 687, Gringotts Bank}
~Clang Clang Clang~
The door to the vault slowly swung open, and the lamp light was instantly reflected back toward me by the pile of galleons in the middle of the vault. I looked around and noticed that there was nothing else in the vault except for the galleons, which made sense since this was just a trust vault.
"Giphook, can you tell me exactly how many galleons are in this vault?" I asked, staring at the massive pile of money in the middle.
"Vault 687 is set to get its quantity refreshed every year to 20,000 Galleons, as stipulated in the agreement signed by Fleamont Potter," The goblin recited quite quickly.
"And how much would we need for our school fees and shopping for supplies, Professor?" I asked Prof. McGonagall.
"The school fees for a first-year student for this academic year are set at 67 Galleons, 13 Sickles and 7 Knuts. This includes the cost of some of the expensive ingredients that Hogwarts provides for your potions class, and also your lodging and dietary needs." She clarified.
I nodded as I stepped into the vault and noticed that no one followed me in. I picked up a Galleon from the pile and weighed it, it wasn't particularly heavy, but hauling around a stack of coins would quickly become bothersome.
"Can I get a pouch or anything that can be used to carry the galleons, Griphook?" I tried to ask for an extension pouch like the one Hermione had in the seventh movie, but got a simple shake of the head in response.
'Okay, so I'm not giving this a 5-star review on Yelp. Now what?' I thought, but Prof. McGonagall, it seemed, was prepared for my current predicament.
"Here you go, Mr. Potter. You need to withdraw at least 31 galleons per person for first-year supplies. For Miss Granger's tuition, we can later make a signed agreement that would allow Hogwarts to take the required amount straight from your vault. Your tuition has already been paid by your grandfather, Fleamont Potter, 18 years ago."
'Huh... Pure-bloods and their weird ways. Don't tell me this was seen as a declaration of his belief that his bloodline would never produce a squib.' I thought, as I started shoving galleons into the pouch. Sure enough, the metal galleons seemed to vanish into the pouch, and it didn't feel any heavier.
I stopped once I had withdrawn around 1,000 galleons. It was a bit of an overkill, but I want a trunk like Moody's that was bigger on the inside than the outside. Hell, I'm willing to overpay for a suitcase like Newt's.
I walked back under Prof. McGonagall's neutral face and nodded to Griphook, who quickly closed the vault door, locked it with the key, and then gave it back to me. Securing the key to my fortune inside my jeans pocket, we turned around and got ready for another ride on the Gringotts roller coaster.
...
"So what are Galleons, sickles, and knuts?" Hermione asked as we started to walk out of the crooked bank building.
"Well, they are the denominations that make up the Wizarding world's currency, Miss Granger. A galleon is equal to 17 silver sickles, while a single silver sickle is worth 29 bronze knuts." She explained as we quickly arrived at our first destination.
I looked at the shop name, Scribbulus Writing Implements, by its name, it was easy to guess what it was. We walked in to see floating quills with feathers flapping around, trying to fly away from small chains that were binding them to the display case.
Aside from that, there were several other sights, with various types of parchment available for sale, but my focus instantly went to the quill, which was writing on paper while a pretty red-haired witch was dictating from a book, testing its effectiveness.
...
[Susan Bones]
[10]
...
'Now there's the hupplepuff queen for fanfics, should I introduce myself?' I thought, but was cut off as a black-haired man appeared from behind the counter with a beaming smile on his face.
"Welcome to Scribbulus Writing Implements. Are we here for the standard supply set for, let me see, first years?" He asked with a grin.
"Yes, two sets please," I replied, and turned back to look at Susan, only to find her walking deeper into the shops.
"You fancy the self-writing quills, they are guaranteed to make it easier to turn in your homework." He whispered as if he was sharing a secret, and I got my answer quite soon when Prof. McGonagall quickly reminded us, "Self-writing quills and other support-type quills, like the Quick Notes Quill, are banned at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter, and your professor would expect you to turn in your assignments written without the use of such quills."
"Yes, Professor," I replied, doing my best to act like a model student, an act that Prof. McGonagall saw through pretty quickly. Shaking her head, I turned to the man who had yet to introduce himself as he placed two bundles on the counter.
''That would be 12 Galleons and 14 Sickles." The man happily proclaimed. I quickly opened the pouch, and my hand disappeared until my elbow was gone. I stared with wide eyes at Hermione as I grabbed a handful of galleons, counted 13, and gave them to the man behind the counter.
As I reached to grab the two sets of supplies, Prof. McGonagall waved her wand and cast another charm, which caused the two rather bulky packages to shrink to the size of a matchbox.
"Now that's convenient," I commented as Prof. McGonagall placed those two packages into another pouch that seemed to magically appear at her waist.
"Let's go, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, we have a lot of shops to visit in order to get your supplies."
The rest of the day turned into a marathon of whispered gasps as Hermione and I thoroughly enjoyed a day out shopping for our first year.
Although I had seen the movies, and they tried very hard with CGI to create the magical effect, it could not compare to the wonder you see when the potion master at the local apothecary showed you an invisibility potion by drinking it and then trying and failing to make a sale without his animated gestures.
After an exhausting day, and with Prof. McGonagall's pouch definitely a lot heavier than when we started and my pouch a little lighter, we arrived in front of an old, dusty shop, with a sign hanging overhead.
'''Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC'''
...