Catching Stars Every Morning

Tom chewed on a blade of grass he'd plucked from somewhere, swinging his legs nonchalantly. "You have to remember, if you let people see you're a pushover, they'll treat bullying like a hobby. The best way to avoid being picked on? Don't play the good boy; arm yourself first so they're afraid of you."

Dumbledore's eyes twitched slightly, and the white beard on his chin trembled just a fraction, as if caught in a breeze.

Tom glanced at him and quickly added, "Don't overthink it, I'm not bullying Seth. That guy is my friend; I'm just teaching him a few tricks for self-defense. He's starting middle school soon—he can't just let people walk all over him, right?"

Dumbledore recalled the way Seth looked—miserable but afraid to slack off—and felt a sense of relief, his tone lightening considerably. "He'll understand your intentions sooner or later. Honestly, with your temperament, you might even make a fine Hufflepuff—provided you don't actually turn 'teaching self-defense' into bullying."

Tom frowned, looking blank. "Hufflepuff? What's that?"

"A house at Hogwarts, they're all quite wonderful..." Dumbledore rambled on, their shadows stretching long under the afternoon sun as they slowly merged into the end of Elm Street.

After switching from a train to the subway and struggling for an hour and a half, the two finally reached the entrance to Diagon Alley—the Leaky Cauldron, a place so dilapidated it looked ready to fall apart. It was three in the afternoon, and there were no customers, save for two or three drunks at a table bragging to one another. As Dumbledore pushed the door open, the room went instantly quiet. The group of wizards guzzling ale stood up in a flash, nodding stiffly in greeting.

The hunchbacked man behind the bar, still clutching a greasy rag, hurried over with a smile that crinkled his face into a map of wrinkles. "Professor Dumbledore, good afternoon!"

Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle. "Good afternoon, Tom—oh, that's right, there's another Tom here." He gestured toward Riddle beside him. "Mr. Riddle, this is the landlord, Tom. What a coincidence. Tom, this is this year's new student, Riddle. I'm bringing him to get his school supplies."

The landlord slapped his thigh. "Fate! It's truly fate! Little Tom, a pleasure, a real pleasure!" For Dumbledore's sake, he was twice as enthusiastic as before. "Come back for a drink when you're done shopping? I'll treat you to some non-alcoholic butterbeer, all you can drink!"

"That sounds like a fine idea," Dumbledore nodded. "We'd better hurry, then. See you later."

"See you later, Professor!"

Dumbledore led Tom through the pub to the small courtyard in the back. He pulled out his knobby wand and muttered, "Three bricks up, two across, just tap them three times." No sooner had he spoken than the wand gave a light tap, and the bricks shifted as if alive, parting in an instant to reveal a wide archway. The sound of voices and hawking vendors surged out from within.

Tom's eyes shone as if they held stars. He stared at the bustling crowd inside and muttered, "This is the magical world?"

"Indeed, your magical world." Dumbledore watched him with a smile reaching his eyes. The two walked along the street, and people kept coming up to greet Dumbledore, making their progress over the few hundred meters quite slow.

Finally, they reached the entrance of Gringotts. It was undeniably grand. Two goblins bowed respectfully, and one of them stepped forward to lead them to the counter to exchange money.

"By the rules, each person can only exchange seventy Galleons," the goblin said, rolling his eyes. He glanced at Dumbledore, his tone softening slightly. "But for the Professor's sake, I'll grant you a limit of one hundred Galleons. Your five hundred and five pounds will have a five-pound processing fee deducted."

Tom's face fell. "So little? Are you trying to swindle me? Professor Dumbledore just said you can usually exchange two hundred Galleons."

"Times have changed, Muggle," the goblin said impatiently. Had Dumbledore not been standing there, he likely would have kicked them out. "Your Muggle money is useless to us; the pounds we exchange every year just sit there gathering mold, so we have to control the limits. Don't complain—this is enough to get you through a year at Hogwarts."

"Two hundred Galleons? That's ancient history from fifty years ago," the goblin added. "Is your Muggle money even worth that much now?"

Dumbledore looked a bit embarrassed and scratched his head. "I apologize, Tom. The last time I brought a student here was over forty years ago; I truly wasn't aware of the current rules..."

Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes, thinking to himself: Forty years? British prices have multiplied several times over, and this old man is still living in the past. Come to think of it, are the goblins actually being reasonable?

His eyes darted around, and seeing Dumbledore was in the wrong, he immediately pushed his luck. "Professor, could you lend me some money? This amount of Galleons probably won't be enough for me to buy many books. I can pay you back in pounds, or... I can pay you back in Galleons after I graduate, with interest, even."

Tom had it all figured out—the second option was the real bargain. By the time he was in his sixth year, this old man might not even be around anymore. Wouldn't that be a profit for nothing?

Dumbledore was surprisingly agreeable, waving a hand. "I have no use for Muggle currency, so just pay me back after you graduate. I look forward to that day." He was always happy to help students, especially since this was his own lapse in judgment.

"Wait for me here. I'm going to withdraw some money and take care of a private matter." With that instruction, Dumbledore followed a goblin toward the underground vaults.

Tom's heart skipped a beat. A private matter? Could he be going to retrieve the Sorcerer's Stone? He remembered that in the original story, Hagrid was the one to retrieve it. Could his arrival have changed the plot?

But he only pondered it for two seconds before casting it aside—what did it have to do with him? He leaned toward another goblin to ask if he could exchange gold for Galleons. The goblin said it was possible, but after calculating the exchange rate, Tom felt like he'd been robbed blind.

Currently, five pounds could buy 0.8 grams of gold, and it took ten grams of gold to exchange for one Galleon. That meant one Galleon was worth nearly sixty pounds—more than twelve times the normal price. These gold Galleons might sound like gold, but who knew how much goblin metal was mixed in.

Tom shuddered and immediately dismissed the idea—his meager savings couldn't handle that kind of waste. Better to spend the money earned in the magical world within the magical world.

After about half an hour, Dumbledore emerged, clutching a key and a cloth bag. He shoved them both into Tom's hands. "There are one hundred Galleons in here, and I've helped you rent a vault with six hundred Galleons stored inside."

He added a word of caution, "One hundred Galleons a year—you must plan your spending carefully."

Tom took the bag, smiling with a look of pure innocence. "Thank you, Professor, I will certainly make good use of your money." Inside, however, he was overjoyed—eight hundred Galleons. As long as he didn't buy a flying broomstick or custom-made luxury clothing, it was more than enough to keep him comfortable until graduation.