By the time Lupin walked out of that dilapidated building, dusk had begun to settle.
Knockturn Alley at night was much noisier than during the day.
There were curses, magical explosions, shrill laughter from nowhere, and faint whimpers echoing from distant corners.
He tugged at his tattered robes and hurried across the street, slipping into a garment shop only after confirming no one was following him.
The shop was filled with all manner of robes, ranging from cheap second-hand goods to gold-trimmed dress robes.
The owner was a stout, middle-aged wizard.
“What do you need?”
“A set of dark, everyday wizard robes.
Nothing flashy, but the material must be high quality,” Lupin said.
The owner looked him up and down.
Lupin knew that look well—contempt, suspicion, and a silent calculation of whether the customer had enough gold to afford anything.
“Second-hand section over there.
Three Galleons a set,” the owner said, pointing to a pile of wrinkled robes in the corner.
“I want a new one.”
“New?” The owner smirked, revealing a mouth full of gold teeth.
“The cheapest is fifteen Galleons.
Are you sure?”
Lupin walked to the counter, pulled out a coin pouch, and began scooping out handfuls of Bronze Knuts.
He quickly piled them onto the counter until they formed a mound.
There were at least a thousand.
The owner’s eyes widened.
“Dark gray.
Material, size…” Lupin recited his height and shoulder width.
“I need it now.”
“Right…
right away!
If you could, though, I’d prefer if you paid in Galleons,” the owner said, rubbing his hands together sheepishly.
“I don’t have any.
Only Knuts.”
“Fine, fine.” The owner nodded, resigning himself to the task—he only had his own attitude to blame.
He reached under the counter and pulled out a new set of robes.
“Try this one!
Just arrived two days ago, perfect for a…
discerning wizard such as yourself!”
Lupin took the robes and stepped into the fitting room.
Three minutes later, he emerged.
Even he was momentarily stunned by the man in the mirror.
The dark gray wizard robes were well-tailored, the fabric giving off a subtle sheen under the dim lights.
There were simple, dark patterns on the collar and cuffs, elegant without being ostentatious.
“How much?” he asked.
“Twenty Galleons, sir!
Or…
if you insist on Knuts, nine thousand eight hundred.”
Lupin grabbed several more handfuls of Knuts.
“Count it yourself.
Keep the change, or tell me if I’m short.”
The owner happily agreed.
As he counted, he muttered, “Who carries this many Knuts these days… This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
You wouldn’t happen to be a Gringotts courier, would you?”
“No.
I just have a habit of carrying small change.”
Once the owner had counted a sufficient amount, Lupin used more Knuts to exchange for some Gold Galleons from the shopkeeper and stepped out.
He left behind a shopkeeper who was both pained and delighted, left alone to count a mountain of copper.
Lupin didn’t linger in Knockturn Alley; he went straight to Diagon Alley.
Behind the window of Ollivanders Wand Shop, the dust-covered boxes looked exactly as they had twenty years ago.
Lupin pushed the door open, the bell ringing with a crisp chime.
Mr.
Ollivander peered out from behind a stack of boxes, his eyes scanning Lupin through his glasses.
“Ah, I remember you.
Remus Lupin.
Thirteen and a quarter inches, cypress, unicorn hair, yes?”
Lupin was slightly surprised.
“You still remember.”
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold.” Ollivander walked over, already holding a long, narrow box.
“I suspect you’re looking for a replacement.
Try this.
Twelve inches, ash, dragon heartstring.
Very resilient.”
Lupin took the wand.
The moment his fingers touched the handle, a surge of warmth flowed through his fingertips.
He gave it a light flick.
A stack of parchment on the counter lifted into the air, spun twice, and settled back down in a neat pile.
“Excellent.
That will be fifty Galleons.”
Lupin paid the fee.
“Treat it well, and it will do the same for you,” Ollivander said.
Leaving the wand shop, Lupin stood on the street of Diagon Alley and took a deep breath.
New robes, a new wand, and a heavy coin purse in his pocket.
“Time for Gringotts.”
Inside the marble hall of Gringotts, goblins in scarlet and gold uniforms stood behind high counters, peering down at every wizard who entered with condescending eyes.
Lupin walked inside.
“How can we help you, sir?” The goblin attending him was named Griphook.
“Currency exchange.” Lupin placed the Undetectable Extension Bag on the counter.
“How much?”
“Quite a lot.”
“Tell me the exact amount.
We are very busy,” Griphook urged.
Lupin untied the drawstring, lifted the bag, and shook it mouth-down over the counter.
In the first second, as the copper coins began to fall, Griphook wore an expression of disdain.
In the second second, his expression froze.
Third second, fourth second, fifth second…
Griphook’s face shifted from contempt to shock, then from shock to horror.
The copper coins were like a burst dam, a flood crashing onto the counter.
Ten, a hundred, a thousand—they rapidly formed a pile, then a hill, then a mountain… This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“Stop!
Stop it, sir!” Griphook shrieked.
Lupin didn’t stop.
He simply kept shaking the bag.
The copper coins continued to gush out, quickly burying the entire counter.
Wizards in the hall who were there for business began to look over curiously.
Upon seeing the torrent of copper, their jaws dropped.
“Goblins!
Over here!
Help!” Griphook shrieked at the top of his lungs.
Goblins from the neighboring counters rushed over.
Goblin A: “Merlin’s beard, how much money is this…”
Goblin B: “I want to sleep on top of it…”
Goblin C: “When I die, bury me under this…”
Griphook: “Stop the chatter!
Start counting!”
Even with the goblins using their specialized magic, the tallying took a full forty minutes.
By then, a crowd of curious wizards had gathered around.
“Who is that?
Why bring so much small change?”
“Never seen him.
I wonder which Great House he’s from?”
“Why is it all Knuts?
Who keeps this many Knuts?”
“Gringotts is going to go mad…”
Finally, a sweat-beaded Griphook looked up.
“Sir, the total is nineteen million, four hundred thousand Bronze Knuts.”
The hall fell into an instant, stunned silence, followed by an even louder explosion of murmurs.
“How…
how much?!”
“Nineteen million?!
Did I hear that right?
The unit was *million*?”
“By Merlin, I wish that money was mine…”
Griphook pulled out a small abacus, his fingers flicking the beads with blinding speed.
“At an exchange rate of 1 to 493…
that converts to…
thirty-nine thousand, three hundred and fifty Gold Galleons.
Plus ten Sickles.”
This time, even the murmuring stopped.
Dead silence.
Absolute, heavy silence.
Everyone stared at Lupin, this seemingly ordinary wizard.
Over thirty-nine thousand Gold Galleons!
That amount was enough for an ordinary wizarding family to live comfortably for dozens of lifetimes.