For Harry, if he had traveled from modern times to the Middle Ages, he might have attempted to walk the righteous path. In the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, he had tried hard to recall his elementary school knowledge. But, due to his limited intelligence, he didn't have many options.
Now, having come from the Middle Ages to modern times, he gave up on idealism altogether. The first thing he wanted to do was steal some money to complete his initial capital accumulation—then snowball it from there.
Some vaults at Gringotts belonged to wizards who had long since died without heirs—or were Death Eaters. Robbing them didn't feel morally wrong to Harry.
"Found it," Hagrid finally said, holding up a small golden key.
The goblin took it, inspecting it carefully.
"There should be no problem."
"I also have a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid added solemnly, puffing out his chest. "It's about that thing in Vault 713."
The goblin read the letter carefully.
"Very well," he said, handing it back. "I'll have someone take you to these two vaults. Griphook!"
"What is 'that thing' in Vault 713?" Harry asked curiously.
"I can't tell you that," Hagrid replied mysteriously. "It's top secret. It's about Hogwarts… It's my job, not worth mentioning."
Harry wanted to retort, If it's really so secret, maybe don't talk about it in front of me?
It probably wasn't anything important anyway.
At least, if Harry had something top secret, he wouldn't send Hagrid to fetch it.
It wasn't that he doubted Hagrid's loyalty—it was his ability to keep secrets that was questionable. He was just too careless.
It felt like Dumbledore had very few reliable people around, or that the general intelligence level of wizards was... troubling. Most seemed quite naïve.
Harry had already noticed this back at the Leaky Cauldron, even among those who followed Voldemort. Many wizards were dangerously gullible.
Griphook opened the door for them.
Ahead stretched a narrow stone corridor, lit by burning torches. The passage sloped steeply down, and a small railway track ran below.
Griphook whistled, and a cart came rattling toward them. They climbed aboard, and the ride began.
At first, they zoomed through a labyrinth of winding tunnels. Harry tried to memorize the route: left turn, right, right, left, fork, right again, then left...
By the time the cart stopped before a small door, Hagrid looked pale.
"Are you carsick?" Harry asked, amused. He thought the ride had been fun.
He also sensed the presence of dragons. Their physical power and magical energy were real… but still, they felt much weaker compared to the dragons from A Song of Ice and Fire.
He also felt sure that, if necessary, he could escape this labyrinth. Even if he forgot the route, he could just break through the walls with brute force.
Honestly, robbing the bank didn't seem nearly as difficult as Hagrid made it out to be.
The only thing he'd have to consider was this so-called "goblin magic." He wasn't sure how powerful it was—whether it included tracking, cursing, or could be bypassed by divine power.
Previously, even a small portion of the Red God's divine power had been terrifyingly potent. And now, he had three full points of divine power.
Griphook unlocked the vault door.
A puff of thick green smoke billowed out. When it cleared, Harry saw piles of gold coins, silver bars, and bronze Knuts forming little mountains.
Although it looked like a lot, most of it was small change.
"It's all yours," Hagrid said with a smile.
Harry thought of the Dursleys, who constantly complained about the cost of raising him. Well then—he'd be sure to thank them for their years of effort...
But what was the exchange rate between wizard money and Muggle pounds?
Are there many gangs in London? Or should I just rob them directly? he wondered.
Hagrid helped him pack some of the money into a bag—mostly Galleons.
"This should be enough for a year," he said.
Then he turned to Griphook. "Take us to Vault 713 now. And could you slow the cart down a bit this time?"
Seven Gods be damned, can I go too? Harry groaned internally.
Hagrid really didn't sweat the details. Couldn't he have come alone tomorrow or later tonight?
But Harry was also curious about Dumbledore's vault. Presumably, it would be far more secure. So, he kept quiet.
"There's only one speed," Griphook said with a toothy grin.
The cart plunged even deeper underground, gaining speed as they went.
Vault 713 had no keyhole.
"Stand back," Griphook instructed solemnly. He reached out with a long finger and tapped the door lightly. The door melted away, vanishing into the stone.
"Anyone other than a Gringotts goblin trying that would be sucked into the door and trapped inside," Griphook explained.
So that's how it works, Harry thought. The upper-level vaults really were just opened with keys. Only the lower levels used goblin magic… and it didn't seem that impressive.
Fine. I'll rob the upper ones first.
"How often do you check if someone's trapped inside?" he asked casually.
"About once every ten years," Griphook said with a sinister smile.
These goblins really are wicked...
Inside the vault sat a small package wrapped in brown paper. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep into an inner pocket of his coat.
Harry was incredibly curious about its contents, but he didn't press.
After another wild ride, they finally emerged into the sunlit street outside Gringotts.
Harry was holding a heavy bag of coins, though he still wasn't sure about its actual value. It seemed substantial.
He didn't bother calculating how many Galleons equaled a pound—or how many gold dragons. He figured he'd get a sense of things once he started shopping.
In fact, only Muggle-born first-years ever really needed to worry about exchange rates. Wizarding currency wasn't something that could be freely exchanged.
Come to think of it, if Galleons were considered gold coins, even a modest purchase would be too much for an average Muggle family.
Hogwarts, then, must be supported by a welfare system. To ensure young wizards didn't go wild and lose control of their magic, the school would forcibly bring them in, regardless of their finances.
In such a small society, financial systems didn't need to be too complex. Most wizards were content as long as they had enough money.
Which was why no one found it odd that the bank was run by an entirely different species.
Harry, however, found it ridiculous.
To him, it felt like a national disgrace. Hagrid had even mentioned that goblins and wizards had fought a war—and that the wizards won.
Then why are the goblins running your only bank? Harry wondered. Who signed a treaty like that? That's pure humiliation.
"Let's go get your school robes," Hagrid said, nodding at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Harry, I'd like to stop by the Leaky Cauldron for a quick drink. That Gringotts ride nearly did me in."
"Alright."
Harry could've used a drink too, but at his current age, that probably wasn't going to happen.