As the Citroën flew out of the glacial fissure and returned to the relatively gentle Alpine road, the Temperature-Regulating Charm inside the cabin finally dispelled the bone-chilling cold.
Harry leaned back comfortably against the leather seat, twirling the wand that lacked a Trace in his fingers.
He was in such a good mood he even felt like humming a few bars of the Hogwarts school song—though he had long since forgotten the words.
The scene just now made him feel like a true hero, not because of some prophecy, but because of his choice.
“You know, Fleur,” Harry said, looking out at the gradually clearing sky.
“I think we made a great decision.
That feeling…
is priceless.” “Yes, priceless.” Fleur’s voice sounded rather dry, even carrying a hint of gritted teeth.
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, she rummaged through the pockets of her jacket with the other, finally pulling out a few pitiful coins and tossing them onto the dashboard.
*Clink.* Three Silver Sickles and five Bronze Knuts.
Not a single Gold Galleon.
“This is our entire remaining fortune, great Mr.
Evans.” Fleur cast a cool glance at him.
“From that pile of treasure back there, any random dragon scale would have let us stay in Vienna’s finest hotel for a month and order the most expensive red wine for every meal.
And now…” She pointed at the pile of coins.
“This money is probably enough to buy two dry, stale sandwiches from a roadside Muggle gas station, and that’s only if they’re on clearance.” Harry froze, his heroic self-satisfaction instantly stiffening on his face.
“Wait a minute,” Harry sat up straight.
“You…
you didn’t bring any money?
I mean, this is a gap year, a trip around the world!
Shouldn’t you have prepared a pouch cast with an Undetectable Extension Charm, bursting with Gold Galleons?” “Harry, has your brain been kissed by a Dementor?” Fleur rolled her eyes in an extremely unladylike manner.
“I was running for my life!
I was busy negotiating with that wizard to bust you out during that window!
And the boat, the car, the routes, the supplies!
Do you think I had time to stand in line at Gringotts, fill out a withdrawal slip, and then elegantly pack gold coins into a pouch?” She honked the horn in frustration, startling a passing goat into jumping into a ditch.
“All I had on me was my cash from that month’s internship salary and some pocket money!
Modifying this black-market secondhand car took more than half of it, and the rest was spent on fuel and supplies!
I thought that hoard of wyvern treasure would make us instantly rich, but what happened?” Fleur turned her head and gave Harry an exaggerated, fake smile.
“A certain great saint said, ‘No, we can’t take it, that’s a deal.’ Oh, how deeply moving.” Harry shrank back a bit in embarrassment, trying to defend himself.
“But…
we saved its baby…” “Can you eat a baby?
Can gratitude put fuel in the car?” Fleur said crossly.
“We’re still two hundred kilometers from the Austrian border.
If this car ran on ‘noble character,’ we really could fly to the moon.
Too bad it runs on alchemical fuel.” “Alright, alright, don’t be angry.” Harry scratched his head, instinctively offering the solution he was most accustomed to in the wizarding world.
“If we’re out of money, we can just withdraw some.
I have money—lots of it.
My vault at Gringotts is piled high with Gold Galleons that my parents left me.
Since we’re ‘siblings,’ my money is your money.” A brief, dead silence fell over the cabin.
Fleur stared at Harry as if looking at some rare, magical beast, finally letting out a sigh filled with pity.
“Harry, dear…” She slowed the car down, her tone so gentle it made his skin crawl.
“Who do you think runs Gringotts?” “Goblins.” “And where is Gringotts’ largest branch?” “London, Diagon Alley.” “Very good.” Fleur nodded, her lips curving into a sarcastic smirk.
“Now guess what would happen if you walked into any wizarding bank connected to the Gringotts network right now, handed over your key, and said, ‘I’m Harry Potter, and I want to withdraw some money’?” Harry blinked, but before he could speak, Fleur answered for him.
“Probably before you count to three, the goblin behind the counter would sound the alarm.
Then you’d find that Dumbledore isn’t sitting in his office at Hogwarts eating lemon drops, but sitting on a sofa in the bank lobby, waiting with a beaming smile to give you a big hug and pack you right back off to Privet Drive.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but found himself speechless.
“Gringotts’ global network is interconnected, especially when it comes to ‘unusually large withdrawals’ and ‘high-profile monitored targets.'” Fleur coldly shattered his illusions.
“Your vault has absolutely been flagged by the Order of the Phoenix by now.
The moment anyone tries to touch a single coin inside, even at a branch in Antarctica, Dumbledore’s people will Apparate right over.” “So…” Harry looked at the few pathetic coins on the dashboard and swallowed.
“Even though I’m a millionaire, I’m practically broke right now?” “Congratulations, you’ve finally faced reality.” Fleur stepped on the gas again.
“That is the price of running away, Harry.
No trust fund, no house-elves at your beck and call.
Welcome to the bottom tier of wizarding society.” Harry leaned back against his seat, watching the endless snow-capped mountains outside.
Surprisingly, at this moment of being told he was “completely broke,” he didn’t feel any panic.
On the contrary, a strange sense of fight burned in his chest.
At the Dursleys’, he had no money and had to wear Dudley’s hand-me-downs.
At Hogwarts, he had plenty of money, but it just piled there; he had never actually “used” it to solve the problem of survival.
“There’s always a way,” Harry said suddenly, a wave of inexplicable optimism in his voice.
“Look, you speak five languages and are highly skilled in potions and Veela magic.
I can…
well, I can fly, speak Parseltongue, and now apparently chat with dragons.” He turned his head, looking at Fleur’s side profile, which was still stunningly beautiful despite her complaining.
“We have two wizards, two wands, and a flying car.
If we can’t even earn enough for two sandwiches, then the educations of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons really have failed.” Listening to this, Fleur’s tense lips slowly relaxed.
She glanced at Harry and gave a soft snort, though the anxiety in her eyes had dissipated significantly.
“Well said, Mr.
Evans.” She turned the wheel, and the car began to plunge down the mountain, the distant Austrian plains unfolding in a vast expanse of green.
“Then you’d better pray that the Austrian black market needs two ‘itinerant artists’ like us.
Or maybe we can busk on the streets?
I’ll sing, and you can call that dragon back to perform fire-breathing?” “That’s not out of the question.” Harry laughed, patting his stomach.
“As long as they pay, I could even perform swallowing three Chocolate Frogs in one go.” “Oh, please, that’s the specialty of that red-haired boy who usually hangs around you.” The Citroën sped down the snowy mountain amid a burst of cheerful laughter, racing toward an unknown, penniless future.