Cedric walked the length of Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall and came away with a rough sense of things: the difference in strength between wizards was far from small.
Most of the street vendors had a Hunting Level of twenty-three or twenty-four. They were roughly on par with one another.
But the Aurors patrolling in matching uniforms were another matter entirely. Their levels were generally close to forty. Cedric only learned what that number meant after asking Professor McGonagall about it later.
There were more than human wizards in the alley. He spotted some rather different creatures, too.
And the gaps between them were even more startling than those between wizards.
The little balls of fluff that women and children often carried in their arms were called Puffskeins. They looked like pets, but their Hunting Level was only one.
House-elves were the exact opposite. They carried boxes back and forth, kept their heads down as they worked, and sometimes got kicked by passing wizards. Yet creatures like them had a level as high as fifty-three.
Fifty-three.
Even Cedric found that number frightening.
Puffskeins were too small, while House-elves were humanoid. Neither belonged on his menu. What really caught his attention were the owls that occasionally flew overhead.
He had eaten ordinary owls before. Those birds were only level one.
The owls wizards used to deliver letters, however, were at least level three.
Cedric lifted his face and followed one with his eyes as it flew farther and farther away. He kept watching until its silhouette had nearly vanished.
As the owl flew, it suddenly felt a chill.
Professor McGonagall noticed what he was doing. By the time she followed his gaze, the owl was almost out of sight.
She looked back down at Cedric and said:
"Once the loan paperwork is finished, you can choose an owl to keep. It can keep you company and deliver letters to your friends."
Cedric did not answer.
McGonagall waited a moment, but she still felt uneasy, so she added:
"You do mean to use it to deliver letters, don't you?"
Cedric immediately turned his face away, looking rather awkward.
Sorry.
But he did not want an owl to deliver letters. He wanted to brush it with honey, roast it, and eat it.
Professor McGonagall: "..."
"We can leave the pet for later."
She firmly ended the subject and pointed ahead. "Gringotts is over there."
The building was impossible to miss in Diagon Alley. It was golden from top to bottom, while most of the surrounding shops were drab by comparison, as though they had been placed there just to make it stand out.
Inside Gringotts, Cedric completed the loan paperwork with a goblin's help.
The goblin's Hunting Level was thirty-one.
Cedric also received his relief payment for the year.
"The annual rent for a temporary vault is five hundred Galleons."
The goblin stood behind the counter, chin raised as it looked at him. Its shrill voice was anything but polite.
"That five hundred will be added to the loan. Interest is twelve percent, compounded. When each term ends, the accrued interest is added to the following year's principal."
Five hundred Galleons was clearly no small sum.
From what Cedric had seen on their walk, that was almost enough for him to live on for a year. Worse, Gringotts would charge interest on it, then interest on that interest.
Cedric was hardly pleased at the thought of an extra expense for nothing every year.
"Can't I borrow only part of it?"
He asked the question aloud.
"The Ministry of Magic gave no such instruction."
The goblin shut him down in its shrill voice.
"And if there's no instruction, you can't!"
These creatures clearly had their eyes on the vault rent. They seemed determined to squeeze every Galleon they could out of him, as though they wanted him working for them for free.
Cedric's expression darkened, and his opinion of goblins sank to rock bottom.
How "Jew"-venile. It made him want to flip them off to their faces.
He did not want to pay that money.
He could repay a debt, but he would not even accept one that was so plainly a rip-off and had been forced on him. Knowing he could probably afford it someday did not mean he was willing to be fleeced.
Cedric turned to Professor McGonagall, who had brought him here.
McGonagall was in a difficult position, too.
She knew exactly what goblins were like. Their habit of squeezing as much as they could out of anyone they caught was hardly decent.
But she could not offer Cedric the use of her own vault. It would be all too easy for someone to suspect her of trying to get her hands on an orphaned student's loan. McGonagall was certain that if she so much as mentioned it, the damned goblin before her would sell the papers a story about "McGonagall attempting to seize a student's assets" by the next day.
Even if she had ten mouths, she would never be able to explain it away.
Cedric had to be the one to bring it up.
But could a child so young really see the problem?
McGonagall lowered her head and met Cedric's eyes.
There was no suspicion in those pale green eyes, only trust in her.
Cedric thought it over and decided Professor McGonagall was worth trusting. Judging by how she had acted in the original story, the deputy headmistress had always had a strong sense of justice. She probably would not covet an orphan's loan.
So he spoke.
"Professor McGonagall, this may be a little rude of me to ask. But until I can afford to buy a vault of my own, could I use yours?"
"Of course you can, Mr. Grey."
The corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth rose, and she accepted with a graceful nod.
The goblin's face turned ugly on the spot, as though it had just swallowed something revolting.
Under its watchful gaze, Cedric and Professor McGonagall signed a contract binding under both magic and law. Then four thousand one hundred Galleons were deposited into Professor McGonagall's vault in a single transaction.
Cedric kept this year's relief payment with him.
That left him with a total of two hundred and fifty Galleons on hand.
That should be enough for textbooks, school supplies, and the one thing no wizard could do without: a wand.