Since they weren't close enough to be overheard, Rock simply nodded without hesitation.
"Why's that?"
Rock couldn't quite understand. Gringotts was the only wizarding bank in existence—there was no way it should look this worn down.
"Greed," Newt said plainly.
Hearing that, Rock's expression turned complicated.
It was rare for Newt to say something negative about anyone—this was a man who could feel compassion for nearly every magical creature on earth.
And yet he said that about the goblins.
Tina patted Rock's shoulder. "Come on. Once we withdraw the money, we can start shopping."
Clearly, Tina wasn't fond of goblins either.
Rock nodded and followed them toward Gringotts.
The moment they stepped through the doors, a goblin passed by—and immediately fixated on Newt's suitcase.
Rock met the goblin's gaze, and those greedy eyes said everything.
When the little wizard staring at him met his eyes, the goblin's thin ears twitched, and he hurried away.
This guy… isn't even trying to hide it?
Rock raised an eyebrow, silently grumbling.
"What's wrong, Rock?"
Tina had walked a few steps before realizing Rock wasn't beside her—he was still standing at the entrance.
"It's nothing."
He shook his head and quickly followed.
That goblin must've sensed something unusual about Newt's suitcase.
After all, it held a mooncalf egg shell—silver.
And that was the least valuable thing in there. The shed skins, fur, claws, and remains of various magical creatures…
Those were worth a small fortune. If they ever hit the shelves of any shop, people would fight over them.
Sure, Newt's case functioned as its own ecosystem—but who knew what innate senses goblins possessed?
And honestly, Rock had another complaint.
What were the people running the wizarding world thinking? They let goblins control the entire economic system?
Rock narrowed his eyes but let the thought go as he reached the counter where Newt was already waiting.
"What business are you here for?"
A small goblin sitting on a high stool didn't bother looking up as he sorted through ledgers.
"To access our vault."
Newt placed the key on the desk. Goblins recognized keys—not faces.
The goblin finally looked up, his sharp gaze sweeping over Newt and his family. Then he examined the key with meticulous care.
"It's valid. Vault 432."
The goblin's shrill voice scraped unpleasantly at Rock's ears. Another goblin waved them forward.
Newt picked up the key and wrapped an arm around Rock as they followed.
Passing through the main hall, Rock spotted the chained dragon used as a security measure.
The goblin leading them suddenly stopped and turned.
"Anyone who attempts to rob Gringotts will suffer a fate worse than death."
That wasn't a warning—it was a threat.
Rock said nothing and kept following.
After a long, rattling cart ride—the kind that made your teeth clack—they reached their vault.
"Key."
The goblin gestured.
After another round of inspection, he inserted the key.
Rumbling echoed around them as the massive vault door unlocked and slowly swung open.
Rock froze.
Inside were at least a dozen chests stacked neatly, and beside them were towering piles of Galleons.
And that wasn't even counting the large items too big for the chests, sitting off to the side.
Behind him, the goblin watched every move with hawk-like intensity.
Newt stepped inside first, while Tina pulled out a cloth pouch and began scooping Galleons inside.
Rock wandered around, taking it all in.
The more he saw, the more shocked he felt.
The Scamanders—or rather, Newt—were far richer than he ever imagined.
"All set, Rock."
Tina's voice snapped him out of it.
He rushed over, glimpsing the heavy pouch in Newt's hand… then looked back at the mountain of gold.
They hadn't even made a dent.
By the time they stepped back into the daylight outside Gringotts, Rock was still dazed from the financial whiplash.
"What's wrong, little money-lover?" Tina teased.
"It's just… I didn't know our family was this rich."
He scratched his cheek, embarrassed.
Newt slipped the heavy cloth bag into a magically-expanded pouch and patted Rock's head.
"Your grandpa's a magizoologist. You didn't know that already?"
Uh.
Rock blinked—then the realization hit him.
The royalties from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them alone were enormous.
And that wasn't even counting Newt's other income streams.
Taking care of magical creatures was practically a money sink—except Newt happened to be very good at turning it into money.
Rock suddenly understood—he was, in fact, a rich second-generation wizard.
"Alright," Tina said, ruffling his hair. "So—books first, or your wand?"
It was Rock's first time going through this experience. He got to choose everything.
It made up for all the years he'd spent stuck at home.
"Let's go pick a wand!"
He didn't even have to think. Every young wizard knew—the wand came first.
Besides, he was curious what kind of wand would choose him.
They walked until they reached a shabby little shop.
"…It's really this rundown?"
Rock stared at the weathered sign hanging above the door.
Ollivander's — Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The bell chimed as they entered.
"Oh—customers."
No one stood behind the counter, but a voice drifted from the back shelves.
An elderly man with silver-white eyes and graying hair emerged.
"Ah, Mr. Scamander. It's been quite a while."
The moment he saw Newt, Ollivander recognized him instantly—like greeting an old friend.
Rock could barely believe it. How could anyone remember every wizard who ever bought a wand here?
Newt shook hands with him and gestured toward Rock. "My grandson. He's here for his first wand."
Ollivander's silvery gaze drifted to Rock, studying him intently.
"Haha, imagine that—after all these years, I get to help the grandson of Newt Scamander choose his wand."
He leaned in slightly.
"Truly, Newt—he looks exactly like you did at his age."