"Right, you could've just said that in the first place." There was a touch of impatience in Herman's voice, as though he were complaining that the other party had taken far too roundabout a route.
At that moment, Herman sat at ease before a small table, one leg crossed over the other, leisurely drinking the tea the little goblin Kramer had poured him. Every so often, he glanced at Kramer, quietly waiting for him to finish counting the pounds Herman had brought.
As Kramer's fingers swiftly counted the pounds for the third time, he explained somewhat apologetically, "I was worried about a Ministry of Magic sting operation. There was one before, and it was a real nightmare. It cost me three thousand pounds to settle the matter in the end. That was also why I moved my shop from bustling, prosperous Diagon Alley to this rather gloomy Knockturn Alley. After all, Aurors don't like coming to places like this either."
Herman said irritably, "Who would send an eleven-year-old kid on a sting operation? Unless all the Aurors were dead!"
Kramer gestured to compare his height with Herman's and said with an innocent expression, "You all look pretty tall to us. We generally can't tell your ages apart anyway. You're all human wizards! You all look more or less the same to us."
Listening to Kramer's reasoning, Herman found himself at a loss for a retort. After a moment of silence, seeing Kramer about to count the money for the fifth time, he hurriedly urged him, "That's enough. Even if you count until the end of time, it'll still be seventeen thousand pounds. At four point five to one, let's round it off. Just give me thirty-eight hundred Galleons."
Kramer froze, then retorted as rapidly as a lit firecracker, "That's wrong! It's clearly thirty-seven hundred and seventy-seven Galleons! Why are you rounding up? Aren't you supposed to round down? Who does their sums like that?"
Herman laughed heartily, a hint of slyness seemingly hidden in his laughter. "So you have worked it out. Hurry up and pay me, then. Thirty-seven hundred will do. Someone's waiting for me, and I'm in a hurry to leave."
Hearing that Herman only wanted thirty-seven hundred, Kramer's furrowed brow instantly smoothed out. His expression was as radiant as a chrysanthemum in full bloom, but he still did not take out any money. Instead, he said awkwardly, "That's fine, but there's one problem right now."
Herman's heart gave a thud. Feeling that something was wrong, he hurriedly asked, "What problem?"
Kramer answered sheepishly, "The problem is, I don't have that many Galleons here."
"You don't! You don't even have that much money, and you're trading stocks? Aren't you goblins always filthy rich?" Herman's voice instantly rose an octave, filled with surprise at this unexpected turn.
Kramer hurriedly explained, "Trading stocks is exactly why I have no money left. But once my stocks go up, I'll definitely have money!"
"Hmph, that's what all the people who jump off buildings think!" Herman said irritably. With that, he snatched the pounds back and turned to leave.
"Wait." Kramer hurriedly moved his short little legs, darting in front of Herman like an agile little mouse to block his way.
"I don't have thirty-seven hundred Galleons, but I do have a thousand. Let's talk this over."
"A thousand? I'd have next to nothing left after buying a Nimbus 2000. That's not enough, nowhere near enough." That was what Herman said, but inwardly, he was running the numbers as quickly as though he had a little abacus in his head. A thousand Galleons was actually enough, and he wasn't particularly interested in the Nimbus 2000 anyway, so why buy one?
"Not just that-there are goods, too. Look at all the things in my shop. They're all goblin-made. Any one of them would sell for quite a few Galleons."
"Pay me in goods?" Kramer's suggestion was like a beam of light shining into Herman's heart. After all, pounds couldn't be spent in Diagon Alley, so finding a magical shop that accepted them was something. At worst, he could resell the goods to turn them into cash.
"Yes, pay you in goods!" Seeing Herman change his tune, Kramer hurriedly repeated himself like a broken record.
"All right, let me see what you've got." Herman began wandering around the shop like a treasure hunter, while Kramer followed closely behind like an exceptionally dedicated salesman, enthusiastically introducing the wares.
"This Sword of Gryffindor has a rich historical heritage. Like a battle-hardened warrior, it cuts through iron like mud and can slice a hair blown against its edge." Seeing Herman examining a sword, Kramer hurried forward to introduce it.
"The Sword of Gryffindor? Isn't that at Hogwarts? Isn't what you're saying a bit misleading to customers?" Herman stared at the sword, his eyes full of doubt. Still, he really did want it. It looked like the one in the film that had stabbed the basilisk to death.
Although it was called a sword, it was actually a small thrusting sword. Still, it suited his current size quite well, and more importantly, it really did look pretty cool.
But Kramer spouting nonsense to drive up the price was going a bit too far.
Seeing that he hadn't fooled the little fellow, Kramer hurriedly tried to make amends like a child who had done something wrong. "I hadn't finished. This is a replica. But although it's a replica, the craftsmanship and materials are all first-rate, no worse than the Sword of Gryffindor."
"Just the craftsmanship? I remember reading that the Sword of Gryffindor had powerful magic on it too. Does yours?" Herman recalled the biography he had read about Gryffindor, one of Hogwarts' Founders. It had a separate section introducing the sword.
Kramer smiled awkwardly and explained, "Back then, Gryffindor enchanted the sword himself. We were only responsible for forging it."
"Then don't go making false comparisons. Count this sword as one of the items. What's it called? Does it have a name?" Herman really did like the sword's design.
"It does. It's called the Sword of Kramer," Kramer answered hurriedly.
Hearing the name, Herman looked at Kramer with an odd expression and asked hesitantly, "Kramer? You made this sword?"
"Yes!" Kramer said proudly. "Aside from making money, I'm also quite skilled at magical forging."
"Then I feel like I'm getting a bit of a bad deal. You'll have to give me a discount on this sword." After grumbling as he looked at the price tag beneath the sword, Herman continued wandering around the shop.
Soon, Herman stopped beside a small shield. Seeing this, Kramer immediately began his introduction as though he had been wound up.
"The Shield of Kramer. Finely crafted, it can withstand physical and magical attacks up to a certain level, with an effect equivalent to a master-level Protego. The key is that as long as you place it in front of you, it will block automatically. You don't have to manually intercept the rays of magic."
As he spoke, Kramer raised his hand and fired a ray of red light. Just as it was about to hit a silver wine goblet above the shield, the shield suddenly flashed. Vaguely, it seemed to grow larger, blocking the red beam like a loyal guard.
"Not bad. The name's just a bit lame. Do you goblins all like naming things after yourselves?" Herman picked up the shield, counting it as another item toward the payment.