The first shop just beyond the archway had a towering stack of cauldrons outside its door—copper, brass, pewter, silver, even a few that looked suspiciously like solid gold—glinting in the sunlight with every possible colour of the rainbow.
A weathered wooden sign swung gently overhead:
Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible
Professor McGonagall glanced at the display. "You'll need one of those; it's on the school list. But first we must visit Gringotts to change your money. They do not accept Muggle currency here."
Under her guidance the three Joneses soon stood before a towering, snow-white marble building that rose high above its neighbours, gleaming like a palace made of ice.
At the foot of the polished bronze doors stood a short figure in a scarlet uniform trimmed with gold.
"Goblins," Professor McGonagall whispered. "Gringotts is run entirely by goblins."
The creature was roughly the same height as the odd little men they had glimpsed in the Leaky Cauldron, but unmistakably inhuman: dark, clever face, pointed beard, exceptionally long fingers and feet.
As they approached, the goblin bowed low.
The polite gesture instantly eased some of Albert and Sofia's tension. After everything they had seen so far, they had half-expected the magical world to be full of monsters. A courteous bow went a long way.
A second pair of doors—this time gleaming silver—awaited them further in. Words were engraved across them in flowing script:
Enter, stranger, but take heedOf what awaits the sin of greed,For those who take, but do not earn,Must pay most dearly in their turn.So if you seek beneath our floorA treasure that was never yours,Thief, you have been warned, bewareOf finding more than treasure there.
Ethan read the warning without the slightest flicker of unease. Fancy language aside, it was basically the wizarding version of "No Robbing the Bank." He had seen far scarier disclaimers on Muggle investment contracts—and his father literally owned shares in some of those banks.
Two more uniformed goblins flanked the silver doors and bowed as they passed into an enormous marble hall.
Over a hundred goblins sat on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling furiously in massive ledgers. Some weighed glittering coins on copper scales; others inspected gems through eyeglasses, muttering to themselves as they worked.
Countless doors led off the hall, and more goblins hurried witches and wizards through them in every direction.
Professor McGonagall located a free goblin near the end of the counter.
"First-year Hogwarts student," she announced crisply. "Here to exchange currency."
She motioned the family forward.
Ethan stepped ahead of his parents and placed a thick wad of crisp pound notes on the counter.
"Two hundred Galleons from the notes, please—and the rest is gold to exchange."
The goblin's long, wrinkled fingers snatched the notes, counted out exactly two hundred heavy gold Galleons, then looked up sharply. "How much gold?"
Ethan swung the heavy backpack onto the counter with a dull thud. "All of it. What's the rate?"
"One ounce of gold for thirty Galleons."
"Do it." Ethan had already done the mental maths—gold was far better value than pounds.
He unzipped the bag and began lifting out bar after bar of pure, gleaming gold—two hundred ounces in total.
The goblin's black eyes gleamed brighter than the metal itself.
"One moment, honoured sir," he croaked, voice dripping with sudden enthusiasm. "I must verify purity."
A few quick tests later, the goblin practically bounced on his stool. "Six thousand Galleons exactly, sir. A most impressive sum."
"Would the young gentleman care to open a private vault? We offer the very highest security—"
The goblin looked positively heartbroken at the thought of so much gold leaving the bank.
"Is it safe?" Albert asked bluntly.
The goblin drew himself up, deeply offended. "Sir! Gringotts is the safest place in the wizarding world—bar Hogwarts itself! Dragon-guarded, spell-protected—since its founding no thief has ever succeeded!"
Albert flinched at the sudden volume and glanced helplessly at Professor McGonagall.
The professor gave a small, reassuring nod. "Gringotts truly is secure, Mr Jones. A vault would be wise for such a large amount."
Reassured, Albert entered negotiations.
"What? No interest—and I have to pay a yearly fee? One Galleon isn't much, but the principle is absurd!"
After some back-and-forth, he discovered wizarding vaults were more like renting an ultra-secure safe-deposit box than a proper bank account—no cards, no branches, just cold hard coin.
Eventually they settled on vault number 737—an auspicious number, apparently.
The head goblin barked, "Griphook!"
Another, even darker goblin appeared and bowed low.
Griphook led the party (now five strong) through a side door, down a narrow stone passageway lit by flickering torches, and finally to a steep, narrow-gauge railway track that plunged into the earth.
Griphook gave a piercing whistle.
A small cart hurtled out of the darkness and screeched to a halt.
Sofia gasped. "Amazing magic!"
They crammed in—four humans and one goblin made for very cosy seating—and the cart shot forward.
It tore through the underground labyrinth at break-neck speed, twisting, diving, climbing, whipping around corners so fast the wind screamed in their ears and their hair streamed behind them.
When it finally braked with a jolt, Ethan barely managed to lean over the side before he was violently sick.
Sofia, green-faced, rubbed his back and snapped at Griphook, "That was far too fast! Can you go slower on the return journey?"
"Apologies, madam. Speed is fixed," the goblin replied with another bow.
"I'm… okay now, Mum," Ethan wheezed, wiping his mouth.
Aguamenti," murmured Professor McGonagall, conjuring a gentle stream of clear water so he could rinse.
"I wasn't expecting a vault today," she admitted. "Otherwise I would have brought anti-motion-sickness potion. Madam Pomfrey will fix you up the moment you arrive at school."
"Thank you, Professor," Ethan managed weakly.
Griphook unlocked vault 737 with a long, clawed finger. The heavy door swung open to reveal a cavernous, empty stone chamber.
Ethan stepped inside, counted out four hundred Galleons for immediate spending money, and poured the remaining five thousand six hundred into a glittering heap on the floor.
Staring at the modest pile that barely covered a corner, he made a silent vow.
One day this vault would be full to bursting.
He was going to make absolutely certain of it.