Beyond the bronze doors was an entrance hall, and beyond that stood a second set of doors made of silver.
Inscribed upon them was a warning: Enter, stranger, but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed.
For those who take but never earn, A heavy price shall be returned.
If you seek beneath our floors A treasure that was never yours, Thief, beware—this warning stands: You’ll find not riches, but ruin at your hands.
Wade dismissed the warning with little more than a glance.
It was well written, but ultimately little more than empty words.
Those without the strength to rob a bank lacked the ability to do so in the first place.
Their own reason would restrain them.
Those with enough power had countless faster, safer ways to make money.
Resorting to robbery simply wasn’t worth the risk.
And anyone determined to rob a bank wouldn’t be discouraged by a few lines carved into a door.
Two goblins stood guard beside the silver doors as well.
Beyond them lay a magnificent marble hall.
Behind rows of long counters, hundreds of goblins stood atop high stools, busily weighing coins, inspecting gemstones, recording transactions, and handling endless paperwork.
Countless doors lined the hall, while goblins continuously guided customers in and out.
McGonagall led Wade to an unoccupied teller.
“Mr.
Morea would like to exchange some money.” The goblin glanced at McGonagall before turning his sharp eyes toward Wade.
“Muggle banknotes?” “No.” Wade placed two gold bars onto the counter.
The goblin’s eyes immediately gleamed with unmistakable greed.
Without hesitation, he produced a balance scale and several testing instruments, carefully assessing the value of the gold.
“Sir, these two gold bars can be exchanged for six hundred Galleons.” Wade looked toward Professor McGonagall.
Only after seeing her slight nod did he feel reassured.
He had never trusted goblins very much.
Who knew whether they might try to cheat a child out of his money?
“Professor, roughly how much do the items on Hogwarts’ supply list cost?” McGonagall thought for a moment.
“Less than one hundred Galleons.” “Hogwarts provides food and lodging free of charge, and students generally don’t spend much money during the school year.” “Then I’ll keep two hundred Galleons.” “I’m sure there are plenty of worthwhile things to buy in Diagon Alley besides what’s on the school list.” McGonagall smiled.
“That’s certainly true.” “But don’t spend recklessly.” “Of course.” Wade nodded seriously before turning back to the goblin.
“I’ll keep two hundred Galleons.” “Can the remaining four hundred be deposited?” “Gringotts provides every wizard willing to deposit money with a private vault.” “However, the paperwork is somewhat complicated and will take a little time.” Wade silently looked at McGonagall.
He didn’t say a word, but the meaning was obvious.
She sighed helplessly.
“Very well.” “This way, please.” The goblin led them through one of the side doors to complete the lengthy formalities.
More than two hours later, Wade finally received a small golden key.
Since he had deposited only four hundred Galleons, he certainly wasn’t considered a valued client.
His vault was one of the simplest available, nothing like the heavily protected vaults guarded by elaborate enchantments and dragons.
Even so, Wade was perfectly satisfied.
Gringotts was the wizarding world’s bank, renowned for both its security and its reputation.
For a young wizard with neither family nor significant strength, entrusting his savings to the bank was unquestionably the wisest choice.
At the very least, he wouldn’t have to worry about being robbed.
“Vault Number 996.” “When you wish to withdraw money, simply bring this key to Gringotts.” The corner of Wade’s mouth twitched.
Nine hundred ninety-six…
That number feels oddly insulting.
Suppressing the urge to complain, he accepted a small leather pouch from the goblin.
Inside were two hundred gold Galleons.
Leaving Gringotts, the two returned to the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.
Following Professor McGonagall’s lead, Wade soon arrived at a small shop on the southern side of the street.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
The shop looked old and rather shabby from the outside, with nothing but its faded sign to hint at its legendary reputation.
“Wands are extremely important to witches and wizards,” McGonagall explained.
“They’re the tools through which we channel our magic.” “If a wizard loses their wand, can they no longer use magic?” Wade asked curiously.
“No.” “Some witches and wizards are capable of casting spells without a wand.” “But doing so requires tremendous concentration and extraordinary skill.
It’s exceptionally difficult.” “A wand guides a wizard’s magical power, allowing it to be focused and used for far more complex purposes.” Wade nodded in understanding.
A wand truly was indispensable.
Even if two equally skilled wizards were both capable of wandless magic, the one wielding a wand would undoubtedly possess the greater advantage.
The moment they stepped inside, a small bell jingled overhead, announcing their arrival.
The shop itself was tiny.
A long wooden bench occupied one corner, while towering shelves packed with narrow wand boxes stretched almost all the way to the ceiling.
“Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall.” “And a young wizard preparing for school.” Mr.
Ollivander descended from a ladder and studied Wade with keen interest.
“Mr.
Ollivander, Mr.
Morea is here for a wand.” “As he certainly must be.” Smiling, Ollivander picked up a measuring tape from the counter.
“Mr.
Morea, which is your wand hand?” “My right.” “Excellent.” “Hold out your arm.” “I need to take a few measurements.” Wade did as instructed.
He had expected Ollivander to measure only the length of his arm.
Instead, the wandmaker measured everything—from shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, even the circumference of his head and the distance between his nostrils.
Wisely, Wade chose not to ask any questions.
After all, the wizarding world differed greatly from the Muggle world.
Besides, Professor McGonagall didn’t seem surprised in the slightest, suggesting this was perfectly normal for Ollivander.
Once the measurements were complete, Ollivander put away the tape measure and began selecting wand boxes from the shelves one after another.
“Try this one.” He withdrew a black wand.
“Holly and unicorn hair.
Twelve inches.” “Give it a gentle wave.” Wade took the wand and gave it a light flick.
A faint breeze stirred through the shop.
Nothing else happened.
“Hmm…
not quite right.” Ollivander retrieved the wand and replaced it with another.
“Ebony and dragon heartstring.
Nine inches.” Wade waved it once more.
A burst of white light flared from the tip before releasing a tiny arc of electricity.
“More particular than I expected.” Rather than sounding disappointed, Ollivander seemed increasingly excited.
“But that’s perfectly fine.” “The wand chooses the wizard.” “Every wand is unique.” “I’m certain we’ll find the one that’s meant for you.” One wand after another passed through Wade’s hands.
His arm gradually began to ache from the constant waving, yet none of them satisfied Ollivander.
Not him.
Ollivander.
Meanwhile, the old wandmaker grew more enthusiastic with every failed attempt, as though difficult customers brought him a peculiar kind of joy.
“Let’s try this one.” “Acacia and phoenix feather.” “Nine and a half inches.” “It’s highly selective, but exceptionally loyal.
It refuses to serve anyone except its true master.” Without much hope, Wade gave it another wave.
Just as expected…
It failed.
Far from discouraged, Ollivander’s excitement only intensified.
He turned toward the shelves, preparing to fetch another batch of wands.
“Wait.” Wade suddenly called out to him.
“Mr.
Ollivander…” “Would you mind letting me choose for myself?” If you’re enjoying the story, please consider supporting it!