Hogwarts: Please, Just Graduate Already! Chapter 3

"Hold your breath. It might hurt a little, but it'll be over soon." Before Wayne could answer, McGonagall activated Apparition.

A loud pop rang out of nowhere. Their bodies spun and vanished, as if they had been sucked away by a flush.

Wayne felt the world spin around him. By the time his vision cleared, the two of them had already arrived in a narrow alley.

"Apparition," McGonagall explained. "It's one of the ways wizards travel.

"It's generally used for relatively short distances.

"Your first time will be unpleasant, but it gets much easier afterward. Are you all right, Mr. Wayne?"

"I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."

Wayne quickly recovered and rubbed his slightly aching brow.

He hadn't slept all night, and after what had just happened, he was already feeling a little drowsy.

Under McGonagall's guidance, the two of them arrived outside a bar.

The front door was extremely dilapidated, forming a stark contrast with the record store and bookshop beside it.

The pedestrians passing by paid no attention to the bar's existence—or rather, they didn't seem to know there was a bar here at all.

When the two entered the bar and everyone got a clear look at McGonagall's face,

the already noisy surroundings instantly quieted considerably. Quite a few wizards subconsciously stood up, looking so nervous that Wayne wanted to laugh.

Most British wizards had graduated from Hogwarts, and the wizards here had once been Professor McGonagall's students.

Now that they saw their former teacher, they remembered the fear of being ruled by Professor McGonagall in those days. They were like mice that had spotted a cat. "Professor McGonagall."

Tom the bartender greeted them with a smile. "Oh, this little wizard is quite handsome. Is he one of this year's new students?"

Wayne smiled, looking rather bashful.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "That's right. I've brought him to buy his textbooks and equipment. By the way, Tom, I remember your child is going to Hogwarts this year too, isn't she?"

"Of course." Tom was clearly much happier at the mention of it. "Hannah has been waiting for this day for ages, though she'll most likely be a new Hufflepuff."

McGonagall smiled as well. "If a member of the Avery family were sorted into Gryffindor, it would definitely make the front page of The Daily Prophet."

Quite a few people laughed along with them.

The Avery family was also one of the Twenty-Eight Purebloods. Every member of their family had come from Hufflepuff, and there had been no exceptions for hundreds of years.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, McGonagall led Wayne through the bar and into a small courtyard surrounded by walls. There was nothing here except a trash can and some weeds.

"Count up three bricks, then across two," McGonagall murmured. She touched her wand to a brick that was noticeably more recessed than the others.

She tapped it lightly three times in total.

The bricks quickly began to tremble. Small holes appeared, then grew larger and larger, until a winding cobblestone path emerged.

"Remember this brick and the motions I made, Mr. Lawrence. After this, you'll be able to come to Diagon Alley on your own."

Wayne asked quietly, "Professor McGonagall, if I'm just saying, hypothetically..." "What would happen if this trash can were moved, or replaced with a bigger or smaller one?"

The corner of McGonagall's mouth twitched as she stared at Wayne in disbelief. This hypothetical had her seriously worried!

"Mr. Lawrence, two little wizards once had the same idea as you. They put the trash can on the other side."

At that point, Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together, and her expression darkened. "Hogwarts received a complaint, and their house was docked... fifty points because of it.

"After that, a Permanent Bonding Charm was cast on the trash can. It can no longer be moved or replaced."

Wayne wisely refrained from asking which house those two little prodigies had belonged to.

Judging by Professor McGonagall's expression, he had already guessed more or less. Following the witch, Wayne stepped over the archway and onto the cobblestone path, and Britain's magical CBD appeared before his eyes.

Countless shops lined both sides of the long cobblestone street. The signs of many shops hung crookedly, while wizards crowded the street. People constantly appeared and vanished through Apparition, accompanied by loud popping noises.

In the distance, a snow-white building divided Diagon Alley into two forks. "Let's exchange some money first, then we'll buy your wand."

Wayne's eyes never stopped moving along the way, darting between the various shops. McGonagall had seen this reaction far too many times, but she still couldn't help smiling.

Watching Wayne hurry into Gringotts, McGonagall remembered the question he had just asked.

She had a feeling that this little fellow wasn't nearly as obedient and well-behaved as he appeared.

This is the author's second Harry Potter novel. Please support it with more votes and comments. If you have any thoughts, feel free to discuss them.

Chapter Five: There's a Limit on Exchanging Pounds. What About Gold?

Compared with some of the rather shabby shops in Diagon Alley, Gringotts was undoubtedly the most conspicuous building there.

It had a gleaming white exterior, shining bronze doors, and, unbelievably, two goblins standing outside.

With such a grand display, it truly lived up to its status as the wizarding world's only officially designated bank.

Still, the wizards' arrangement was rather baffling. They had actually handed their financial lifeline over to outsiders to manage.

Wayne remembered that the goblins in history were hardly honest. They were greedy and despicable, and had launched rebellions more than once. They had even coveted Gryffindor's sword.

A little over a century ago, they had attempted to cause trouble using the power of Ancient Magic, only to be stopped by a fifth-year transfer student at Hogwarts.

But none of that was Wayne's concern for now.

If the sky fell, someone taller would hold it up. Once he became the tall one himself, if the goblins caused trouble again, he would crush them with a single finger.

After entering the first door, McGonagall and Wayne found a second door in front of them, with a line of text engraved upon it to warn those with ulterior motives.

Wayne didn't even bother looking at it before ignoring it and entering the marble hall. Around a hundred goblins sat on tall stools behind the counters. Some weighed coins on copper scales, while others inspected gemstones and registered accounts in ledgers.

There were countless doors in the hall, each leading to a different place. McGonagall led Wayne to a counter on the far right.

"This is a new student entering school this year. He needs to exchange money for Galleons."

McGonagall's attitude toward the goblin was less than friendly, and she urged it impatiently. The goblin behind the counter didn't seem to care. Without looking up, it said:

"Each new student has permission to exchange up to seventy Galleons per year. The exchange rate is one to 5.75. How much do you want to exchange?"

"That's all? What can I even do with that?" Wayne frowned.

"It's actually enough." McGonagall spoke to him in a low voice. "After excluding the necessary items you'll purchase, you'll still have ten Galleons left as pocket money each year."

Thinking Wayne didn't understand the wizarding world's currency or purchasing power, McGonagall gave him an explanation.

"One Galleon equals seventeen Sickles, and one Sickle equals twenty-nine Knuts." Hearing such an absurd exchange rate involving prime numbers, Wayne wasn't particularly surprised. Britain had a long tradition of this sort of nonsense.

Before 1971, one pound equaled twelve shillings, and one shilling equaled twenty pence. People who weren't good at mathematics were often left dizzy by the complicated exchange rates.

(Author's note: This is an alternate setting. Rowling never said anything about exchange limits, but if there really weren't any, the wizarding world's financial system could easily be exploited. Hermione wouldn't have had to wait until her birthday to buy a cat either. Given her parents' occupation as dentists, they couldn't possibly have treated Hermione poorly.)

"Forget it. Seventy is seventy." Wayne stopped dwelling on it. He took eight fifty-pound notes from his wallet and placed them on the tray, then added a five-pound note.

After taking the money, the goblin only glanced at it before roughly stuffing it into a drawer, then pulled out a small cloth bag and handed it through the window.

Only after seeing Wayne put the money away did McGonagall say, "All right. Let's go buy your wand and the rest of your supplies."

"Er, Professor McGonagall, I know you're in a hurry, but don't get ahead of yourself." Seeing that Wayne had no intention of leaving the counter, the goblin frowned. "You've already used up this year's allowance. Is there something else?"

"If you want to open a vault, your assets aren't sufficient. You need more than five hundred Galleons to apply for one."

Wayne took off his schoolbag and pulled the zipper open slightly, revealing a sliver of golden light.

"Are you sure you want to discuss this here?"

The goblin's eyes went wide. Based on its eighty years of working 996 at Gringotts, that mesmerizing gleam could only be gold!

Its originally cold attitude instantly turned enthusiastic. The goblin jumped straight out from behind the counter and ushered Wayne and McGonagall into a private room with an ingratiating smile.

Clang, clang, clang!

Several gold bars spilled onto the table. The goblin's breathing grew heavy, and even Professor McGonagall's eyes widened.

No wonder she had thought Wayne's schoolbag was so heavy. It was full of gold!

Unlike Muggle currency, gold was hard currency in the wizarding world. Whether it was used to make Galleons or as a material for alchemy and potion-making, it was extremely valuable.

Wasn't Nicolas Flamel famous because the Philosopher's Stone he created could grant immortality and turn stones into gold?

Wayne had prepared for both possibilities. If pounds could be exchanged for Galleons without restriction, he had brought twenty thousand pounds and could exchange them for four thousand Galleons. If not, he would simply throw gold at them.

After a round of haggling, the goblin bought Wayne's gold bars for five thousand Galleons.

Wayne couldn't possibly carry all those Galleons with him, so he opened

a vault at Gringotts and stored four thousand eight hundred Galleons inside.

He kept only two hundred, along with the seventy Galleons he had just exchanged, as pocket money. After completing the transaction, the goblin's expression was somewhat unpleasant.

"Mr. Lawrence, you're a born financier. Once you graduate, perhaps you could come work at Gringotts."

It had originally intended to make a fortune by taking advantage of Wayne's ignorance.

But the little wizard was far too clever, and with McGonagall helping him, the goblin had barely made any profit from the deal.

"If I get the chance, I will." Wayne was beaming as well. Working at Gringotts would be fine, but he wanted to be the bank manager!

It wasn't until they had left Gringotts that Professor McGonagall sighed. "Bringing gold to Gringotts... Mr. Lawrence, you're the first little wizard I've ever met to do that."

"My family has a little money. It's nothing worth mentioning," Wayne said modestly. He didn't mention the money he had obtained from the system's lottery.

As an old, true-blue London aristocratic family flying the Union Jack, the Lawrence family's inheritance was an astronomical sum.

At present, sixty percent of London's real estate was controlled by the royal family and the nobility, who collected substantial rent every year.

Although newspapers now constantly spoke of the supposed decline of the aristocracy and how the age of democracy was filled with opportunities,

how could centuries of accumulated wealth be surpassed so easily by ten years of studying? Oh, Ding Zhen was an exception. He didn't even need to study.

Next came the purchase of weapons. No, his wand.

Chapter Six: The Difficult Selection of a Wand

Under McGonagall's guidance, the two made their way through Diagon Alley and soon arrived at their destination.

If Gringotts was the most luxurious building in all of Diagon Alley, then Ollivanders Wand Shop was definitely among the three shabbiest shops in the alley.

Dust had congealed into grime on the windows, making it impossible to see inside. A wooden sign hung crookedly as well.

Ollivander: Making wands since 382 B.C. Seeing the words, Wayne pursed his lips in disbelief.

More than three hundred years before the Common Era, this land didn't even belong to the Anglo-Saxons yet. The Roman armies hadn't even reached it.

The concept of Britain didn't exist then. The land was filled with Celtic tribes. How could he have opened a wand shop?

Still, as the only arms dealer in all of Britain,

Ollivander shouldn't have needed to do this to add to his pedigree, right? Seeing Wayne hesitate, McGonagall assumed he had been frightened by the shop's war-torn decor. She stepped forward to push open the wooden door and comforted him as she did so:

"Ollivander is merely a little... unconcerned with appearances. His wand-making skills are absolutely master-level. Clatter!"

McGonagall hadn't finished speaking. Perhaps because she had been distracted while explaining things to Wayne, she pushed with slightly too much force, and the entire door of the wand shop fell inward.

Clouds of dust billowed through the air. Even several chunks of grime from the windows were shaken loose, hitting the ground and turning to dust.

Wayne hurriedly raised his schoolbag in front of him to avoid getting covered in dust. "Professor, are you all right? Pfft! Sorry, I didn't mean to." Only after the dust had settled somewhat did Wayne lower the bag. Seeing McGonagall's emerald-green robes turn light gray, he couldn't hold back his laughter.

Professor mocked to her face, points +10. Damn, what a lousy system.

Was I mocking her? I was showing sympathy, all right.

Wayne grumbled inwardly, while McGonagall's expression grew extremely dark. Fortunately, an elderly voice broke the awkward silence.

"Didn't I put up a sign saying to open the door gently? Why are you still—Minerva, is that you?"

An old man with completely white hair and beard poked his head out from behind the shelves.

He began by scolding them, but the moment he recognized Professor McGonagall, a smile immediately appeared on his face.

The speed of his change in expression was truly astonishing.

"Garrick, your shop really ought to be renovated."