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Chapter 14: Gringotts
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 14:44:02 +0000 UTC“Harry Potter?” Hermione also caught wind of their conversation and couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity. “Who’s that?”
“He’s a young wizard who defeated the Dark Lord over a decade ago. This year, he’ll be starting school at the same time as you. Nobody knows exactly how he managed to do it—it was a miracle, and that’s why he’s remembered to this day.”
Victor, leading the group up the stairs of the Leaky Cauldron, answered their questions with a patient demeanor.
The old, creaky stairs of the Leaky Cauldron groaned under their weight. The narrow steps were bustling with witches and wizards, forcing them to sidestep to avoid those descending.
Mrs. Granger, cautiously moving past a wizard, seemed to catch on to a particularly ominous term.
“The Dark Lord? Who’s that?”
“You could think of him as a wizard who advocated for racial inequality,” Victor explained. “He believed that Muggle-borns were a separate and inferior race compared to pure-blood wizards. He gathered a group of followers to persecute the former, nearly taking over the wizarding world at one point.”
Mrs. Granger’s concern deepened. “Wouldn’t that mean Hermione could also be targeted?”
Victor glanced at the worried expression on her face. “Most people in the wizarding world don’t support his actions. Hogwarts certainly doesn’t either, so you don’t need to worry.”
Despite his reassuring words, Victor’s prophetic intuition suddenly stirred, a faint ripple warning him that Hermione indeed might have cause to worry about this matter in the future—though not immediately.
He frowned slightly. Could it be that the Dark Lord would return to Hogwarts and endanger the students? That would be troubling.
Mrs. and Mr. Granger, however, seemed to grow more apprehensive. Their experiences in London’s complex society had taught them to read between the lines, and this situation appeared far from simple. If Harry Potter, that “Savior,” was so renowned, and the Dark Lord had nearly conquered the magical world, it couldn’t possibly be as straightforward as Victor suggested.
As they mulled over these thoughts, the group finally reached the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron, passed through a small garden, and arrived at a platform with nothing but a few trash bins.
Victor counted three bricks upward and two to the left before tapping a specific brick with his hand.
Knock, knock, knock.
The brick quivered slightly under his touch. Then, starting from the brick he tapped, the wall began to shift, the bricks pulling back one by one to reveal a widening archway. Beyond it lay a bustling street.
Hermione peered through the opening, catching sight of shop windows displaying cauldrons of all sizes. Around the corner stood another store, apparently an apothecary, its entrance crowded with exotic herbs and strange, animated plants. In front of the apothecary, a woman was shaking her head, muttering, “Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce—they’ve lost their minds…”
The whimsical sights immediately lightened the heavy mood from earlier.
They stepped onto the cobblestone street, and as they did, the bricks behind them slid back into place, once again forming a solid red-brick wall.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” Victor announced with a nod. “Let’s head to Gringotts to exchange some Galleons first.”
“Alright,” replied Mr. and Mrs. Granger, their voices laced with astonishment as they tried to take in the vibrant surroundings.
As they walked further, the scenery grew increasingly diverse. Hermione spotted Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, which Professor McGonagall had mentioned earlier. In the shop’s window, rows of animated, elegant robes were displayed. As passersby approached, the robes lifted their hems as if performing a graceful bow.
Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off the magical sights but quickly realized how out of place she looked. Her plain white shirt and jeans might be ordinary in London, but here, amidst a sea of witches and wizards in elaborate robes, she felt like a garlic clove among oranges.
Victor’s earlier mention of the “Dark Lord” lingered in her mind.
“We’re here,” Victor suddenly announced.
They had arrived in front of a grand, marble-crafted bank. At least two stories tall, its Baroque-style domed ceiling was majestic, and the name “Gringotts” was elegantly etched in flowing script.
Victor stepped forward and pushed open the doors. On either side, goblins bowed to them and opened a second set of doors.
Victor glanced at the inscription on the door and shook his head internally.
“Lacking imagination, these goblins,” he mused. “If I ran a bank, I’d inscribe a curse to reveal thieves immediately and ensure absolute security. Maybe something dramatic, like: Beware—if you touch a single coin that isn’t yours, death will befall you instantly.”
Once inside, a sharp-voiced goblin greeted them.
“Muggle currency exchanges are at the first counter to your right. For deposits or withdrawals, go to the second counter. To open an account, proceed to the third counter. For all other matters, please approach the last counter! And no crowding—form an orderly queue!”
The grandeur of the bank’s interior left them momentarily speechless. The ceiling soared three stories high, gleaming white marble covering every surface. Behind the counters on either side of the hall sat nearly a dozen goblins, some inspecting gemstones through eyepieces, others jotting down entries in massive ledgers. Beyond the counters, countless doors opened and closed as goblins escorted customers in and out.
Victor turned to the Grangers. “I have my own business to attend to at the third counter. You can handle your exchange at the first. If you need anything, come find me.”
“Got it,” Mr. Granger replied.
Victor approached the third counter, which was relatively quiet. A goblin in a crimson-and-gold robe was idly jotting down notes when Victor arrived. Without much interest, the goblin asked, “How may I assist you, sir?”
“I’d like to open an account for my monthly salary transfers from Hogwarts.”
“In that case, please provide your identification and proof of employment at Hogwarts.”
Victor handed over his folded documents. The goblin scrutinized them, its eyes suddenly widening in astonishment as it double-checked the details.
“…You’re Mr. Victor Vanderboom?!”
“Yes. Why?”
As soon as Victor confirmed his identity, the goblin’s demeanor changed drastically. It became overwhelmingly enthusiastic, nearly lunging across the counter to shake Victor’s hand—though Victor deftly stepped back just in time to avoid contact.
The goblin’s glowing expression was undeterred by the distance.
“Mr. Vanderboom! We at Gringotts have long admired you! It’s been a pity that we couldn’t locate your residence to send our correspondence. Please know that our respect for you is absolutely genuine!”
“The director himself has instructed that if you were ever to open an account here, we would waive all fees and offer you the bank’s highest privileges!”
“Please provide us with an address, and we’ll send you Gringotts gift packages during the holidays. Additionally, you’ll receive access to the highest-level vaults and the most favorable loan rates…”
Victor interrupted coolly, “Why all the special treatment? Do you want something from me?”
“Ah, not a favor—more like a humble request.” The goblin’s grin stretched nearly to its pointed ears as it leaned forward conspiratorially, its nose nearly poking Victor in the face.
Victor frowned and took another step back. “What’s the request?”
The goblin whispered, “We’ve heard of your extraordinary talent for prophecy—how you successfully predicted Professor Trelawney’s accident, down to the exact timing.”
Victor replied dryly, “And?”
“That’s nothing short of a miracle! Your talent is beyond compare!”
“Get to the point.”
“Well, because of your unparalleled ability to predict events, we at Gringotts humbly request… Could you forecast the fluctuations in the materials trading market for us?”
“…What?”
