The next day, at the Leaky Cauldron.
When Professor McGonagall tapped the brick wall of the backyard with her wand in that magical rhythm, Arthur and Helen were stunned once again.
The brick wall spiraled open, revealing the bustling, crowded, and fantastical street behind it.
Diagon Alley.
“Oh, my goodness…” Helen murmured.
Arthur gripped Lynn’s shoulder tightly, terrified he would be swept away by the crowd.
Lynn’s reaction remained calm.
He wasn’t drawn to the flying broomsticks or the self-stirring cauldrons in the shop windows like the other young wizards visiting for the first time.
His gaze was “seeing” something much deeper.
Outside Flourish and Blotts, he saw a well-dressed wizard chatting with a shop assistant.
The wizard’s eyes casually swept over a plainly dressed family nearby, a hint of disdain playing at the corner of his mouth.
The pecking order of pure-bloods looking down on non-pure-bloods was plain as day.
He saw a faint, almost imperceptible magical glow coating the sign of Ollivanders wand shop—a power settled and aged by time.
He could even “smell” the unsettling “scent” drifting from the entrance of Knockturn Alley, a foul mixture of malice, curses, and failed potions.
This information was meaningless to ordinary people.
But to a Spectator, this place was paradise.
Every detail, every micro-expression of every person, was like an open book.
“Professor, don’t worry, I have no interest in danger,” Lynn suddenly said to Professor McGonagall beside him.
“I’m just a little curious about the reasons behind the danger.” Professor McGonagall startled.
She had indeed been worrying whether this overly intelligent, calm boy would develop an interest in places like Knockturn Alley.
Lynn’s words accurately saw through her anxiety.
“Curiosity is Ravenclaw’s most precious quality, Mr.
Grey,” Professor McGonagall’s expression softened.
“But learning to control it is the prerequisite to becoming an excellent wizard.” “I understand,” Lynn nodded.
*No rush, observe first,* he told himself.
Their first stop was Gringotts.
In Lynn’s eyes, the white marble building exuded a majestic aura laced with greed, contracts, and ancient magic.
The Goblin Griphook cast an undisguised look of contempt at the Greys.
But upon seeing Professor McGonagall, he quickly put on a professional, businesslike face.
As they rode the wild cart deep into the underground vaults, Arthur’s face turned pale.
Helen clung tightly to her husband’s arm.
Lynn, however, watched the runes and waterfalls flashing past the track walls with great interest.
*The Thief’s Downfall…
so it works through mental shock and magical stripping,* he analyzed silently in his mind.
The cart stopped.
Griphook the Goblin used a key to open an ancient vault door.
Behind the door, there were no mountains of Gold Galleons.
There was only a modest chest and a few bags of coins.
“Your great-grandmother took most of her fortune when she left,” Griphook explained in his raspy voice.
“This is a trust vault she left behind.
According to the rules, the first descendant to awaken magical talent after her can inherit it.” Arthur and Helen were slightly disappointed, but also felt it was only natural.
Professor McGonagall gestured for the goblin to open the chest.
Inside the chest was only a ring of keys and a letter.
Helen picked up the letter and unfolded it.
Her hands began to tremble as she read.
“This…
this is a letter left by Great-Grandmother for the heir.” She looked at Lynn, her eyes filled with shock.
“She said she knew the family bloodline wouldn’t die out.
She transferred the Grey family’s true wizarding assets to a safer vault.
This ring of keys is the proof.” Griphook’s face changed.
He snatched the keys, carefully inspected the numbers on them, and then flipped rapidly through his ledger.
Finally, he looked at Lynn with a gaze bordering on awe.
“Vault Seven…
It is—it is one of the oldest vaults of the Prince family,” he stammered.
“Mr.
Grey, this way, please.” This time, they went much deeper.
When the door to Vault Seven swung open, even Professor McGonagall gasped.
Gold Galleons, Silver Sickles, and Bronze Knuts were piled into miniature mountains.
Beside them sat numerous magical materials of unrecognizable composition and several chests of books.
This was a true fortune.
Arthur’s knees went weak, and he almost slumped to the floor.
“Are we…
are we rich now?” “It seems so,” Lynn’s tone remained flat.
He walked over to a pile of coins and picked up a Gold Galleon.
What interested him was not the gold, but the unique goblin magic embedded within it—an ancient contract magic that guaranteed its value and prevented counterfeiting.
“Professor,” Lynn turned back to look at McGonagall.
“Magic and my…
talent don’t conflict, do they?” “Talent?” “I can see and remember many details that others overlook,” Lynn explained, half-truthfully.
“This money will ensure I have no worries while learning magic.
I can buy more books and do more research.” Professor McGonagall gave him a deep look.
“Of course, Mr.
Grey.
Knowledge is always the pursuit Hogwarts encourages most.” Her appreciation for this student grew a bit more.
Not because of his wealth, but because the very first thing he thought of when facing a vast fortune was studying.
After purchasing all their supplies and preparing to leave Diagon Alley, they encountered someone outside Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
A boy with platinum-blonde hair, a pale face, and a haughty expression.
Draco Malfoy.
He was being led out of the shop by his mother, Narcissa Malfoy.
“Oh, look who it is.
Has another batch of Mudbloods come to defile Diagon Alley?” Draco Malfoy sneered nastily the moment he spotted the Greys in their mismatched Muggle attire.
Arthur’s face flushed red.
Professor McGonagall’s face darkened, and she was about to speak, but Lynn stepped forward first, a gentle, harmless smile on his face.
He didn’t look at Draco Malfoy, but instead focused on Narcissa Malfoy beside him.
“Madam, your necklace is beautiful,” he said.
“However, your left eyebrow is 0.5 millimeters higher than your right, and while your mouth is trying to maintain a smile, there is a slight tremor in the muscle of your lower lip.
You feel embarrassed by your son’s rudeness, yet because of family pride, you cannot reprimand him in public, correct?” Narcissa Malfoy’s expression shifted instantly.
Draco Malfoy froze.
He had never seen anyone dare to speak to his mother like that.
Lynn kept smiling and turned his gaze to Draco Malfoy.
“And you, young master.
When you said the word ‘Mudblood,’ you deliberately placed extra emphasis on it and sneaked a glance at your mother.
Were you seeking her approval?
It seems you aren’t quite sure if that word can bring you true superiority.” Lynn’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly to the ears of several nearby wizards.
“I was merely passing by and happened to memorize all the details,” he said, giving a slight bow to the pale-faced Malfoys.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you.
After all, maintaining appearances is hard work.” With that, he turned and walked back to his parents.
“Let’s go, Professor.” Professor McGonagall looked at him with an incredibly complex expression.
She didn’t reprimand Lynn for his “rudeness” but simply led them away quickly.
Behind them, Draco Malfoy’s face flushed crimson, yet he couldn’t utter a single word.
As for Lynn, he was already summarizing the scene in his mind.
[Sequence 9 Spectator Ability Test: Micro-expression recognition and psychological profiling—highly effective.
The targets suffered severe emotional volatility; preliminary achievement of ‘Social Death’ unlocked.
Yes, the wizarding world is indeed much more interesting than the Muggle world.]