Compared to some of the other rather shabby shops along Diagon Alley, Gringotts was undeniably eye-catching — like a luxury handbag in a sea of worn satchels.
A pristine white building, gleaming bronze doors, and — rather impressively — two goblins in crimson-and-gold uniforms stationed at the entrance.
This kind of grandeur? No doubt about it. The wizarding world's only officially recognized bank lived up to its name.
Still, the wizards' decision-making was a bit of a mystery — entrusting the financial lifeblood of their society to a race of non-humans?
Wayne remembered well from history: goblins weren't exactly honest folk. Greedy, cunning, and not to mention their numerous revolts throughout the centuries. Even Godric Gryffindor's sword had once caught their eye.
Just over a hundred years ago, they had even attempted to stir trouble using the power of ancient magic — only to be stopped by a fifth-year transfer student at Hogwarts.
But all that wasn't Wayne's concern.
If the sky were ever to fall, there'd always be taller people to hold it up. And when he eventually became one of those tall ones — if goblins caused trouble again — he'd crush them with a single finger.
After passing through the first set of doors, Professor McGonagall and Wayne encountered a second door, inscribed with a warning to those harboring ill intent.
Wayne didn't even glance at it. He strolled right into the grand marble hall, where a hundred or so goblins sat perched on high stools behind counters. Some were weighing coins with copper scales, others inspecting gemstones or recording entries in ledgers.
The hall itself had countless doors, each leading to a different destination.
McGonagall led Wayne to a counter on the far right.
"This one's a first-year," she said curtly. "He needs to exchange for Galleons."
Her tone with the goblin was far from friendly — impatient, even. The goblin didn't seem to mind, barely lifting his head as he said:
"Each student may exchange up to seventy Galleons per year. Exchange rate is 1 to 5.75. How much do you want to convert?"
"Only seventy? What can I even do with that?" Wayne frowned.
"It's actually more than enough," McGonagall whispered. "After covering your required school supplies, you'll still have around ten Galleons left for pocket money."
Assuming Wayne was unfamiliar with wizarding currency and its purchasing power, she went on to explain.
"One Galleon is equal to seventeen Sickles, and one Sickle equals twenty-nine Knuts."
Hearing such ridiculous prime-number ratios didn't really shock Wayne.
Britain had a long-standing tradition of this sort of nonsense.
Before 1971, one pound equaled twelve shillings, and one shilling equaled twenty pence.
People bad at math often got completely lost in that kind of mess.
(Author's note: This is a personal addition. J.K. Rowling never mentioned any exchange limit, but if there really wasn't one, the wizarding world's financial system would be easily exploitable. Hermione, for example, wouldn't have had to wait until her birthday just to get a cat — her parents were dentists, after all. They wouldn't have skimped.)
"Fine, seventy it is," Wayne said, dropping eight £50 notes into the tray along with one £5 bill.
The goblin took them, barely glanced at the notes, then shoved them roughly into a drawer. A moment later, he handed Wayne a small pouch through the window.
Only when Wayne had stowed the pouch safely did McGonagall say, "All right, let's go buy your wand and other supplies."
"Uh, Professor McGonagall, I know you're in a hurry — but could you not be in such a hurry?"
Seeing that Wayne had no intention of leaving the counter, the goblin furrowed his brow.
"You've used up your yearly exchange limit. What more do you want?"
"You can't open a vault unless your assets exceed five hundred Galleons. That's the minimum required."
Wayne unzipped his backpack slightly, just enough for a faint golden gleam to spill out.
"Are you sure you want to discuss this out here?"
The goblin's eyes widened. With eighty years of experience at Gringotts, he could tell at a glance—that mesmerizing gleam could only mean gold!
His previously indifferent attitude turned enthusiastic in an instant. The goblin jumped straight out from behind the counter, bowing and nodding as he personally led Wayne and Professor McGonagall into a private room.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Several gold bars thudded onto the table. The goblin's breathing grew heavy, and even Professor McGonagall's eyes widened in shock.
No wonder she had felt Wayne's bag was oddly heavy—turns out it was full of gold!
Unlike Muggle currency, gold was hard currency in the wizarding world.
Whether it was used to mint Galleons or as a key ingredient in alchemy and potion-making, gold was always in high demand.
Wasn't Nicolas Flamel famous precisely because the Philosopher's Stone he created not only granted immortality, but could also turn anything into gold?
Wayne had come well-prepared. If pounds could be freely exchanged for Galleons, then he had brought £20,000—enough to get 4,000 Galleons.
If not, he'd just smack them in the face with raw gold.
After a round of negotiation, the goblin finally agreed to buy Wayne's gold bars for 5,000 Galleons.
Of course, Wayne wasn't going to carry all that around. He opened a vault at Gringotts and deposited 4,800 Galleons, keeping just 200—along with the 70 he had exchanged earlier—as pocket money.
After the transaction, the goblin's expression looked a little sour.
"Mr. Lawrence, you're a born financier. After graduation, perhaps you'd consider working at Gringotts?"
He had originally hoped to fleece Wayne a little, assuming the young wizard was clueless about market prices.
But this kid was sharp—and with McGonagall by his side, there was barely any profit to be made from the deal.
"If I get the chance, I'll come," Wayne replied with a bright smile.
He didn't mind working at Gringotts—as long as he was the bank manager.
It wasn't until they stepped out of Gringotts that Professor McGonagall finally spoke with a hint of amazement:
"Bringing raw gold to Gringotts... Mr. Lawrence, you're the first student I've ever seen do such a thing."
"It's just some small family savings. Hardly worth mentioning," Wayne replied modestly.
Not even counting the gold he had won through the system's lottery draws—
As a true aristocrat from the old British nobility waving the Union Jack proudly over London…
The Lawrence family's inheritance was an astronomical sum.
As of now, over sixty percent of London's land was still in the hands of the royal family and the nobility, generating generous rent every year.
Sure, the newspapers might be saying things like "the aristocracy is in decline," or "we're in a democratic age full of opportunity"…
But the foundation built over hundreds of years? Not something a decade of hard studying could easily surpass.
Next up was buying a weapon… no, I mean, a wand.