Gringotts stood on the northern side of Diagon Alley like a towering giant rising from the ground. Its snow-white marble building looked somewhat out of place among the surrounding old-fashioned buildings, making it particularly eye-catching.
The bronze doors gleamed in the sunlight. Who knew whether someone was assigned to carefully wax and polish them every day?
Goblins in scarlet-and-gold uniforms stood at the entrance, their backs straight. Whenever someone passed, they bowed politely in welcome.
In that respect, their dedication to service was commendable. Once inside, however, the experience was entirely different.
Warning notices were posted everywhere inside. Their blunt wording seemed to constantly remind everyone that this was a heavily guarded place, and everyone who entered was treated like a potential thief. It was rather uncomfortable.
Their service was also less than satisfactory. There was not even a lobby manager to greet visitors and show them where to go. Instead, several goblins wandered about, scrutinizing the people coming in. Beyond them, in the spacious marble hall, a dozen or so goblins sat behind counters handling transactions.
Herman looked around, finally chose a counter with a shorter queue, and joined the back to wait patiently.
The family ahead of him, who appeared to be Muggles, finished their business and left with a skipping, brown-haired little boy. At last, it was Herman's turn.
"What business?" an elderly goblin in desperate need of a facelift asked coldly, without looking up.
Herman carefully placed his admission letter on the desk. "I'm here to collect my student grant."
Upon hearing that Herman was there to collect money, the old goblin's expression instantly grew even uglier. Several more creases seemed to appear on his face, making it resemble crumpled paper.
He inspected the admission letter over and over, seemingly searching for some flaw. Only after quite some time did he reluctantly take a stack of Galleons from behind the counter.
After setting the Galleons on the desk, the old goblin began carefully counting them one by one. Herman finally understood why the wait had been so long despite the seemingly short queue. The old goblin counted every payment ten times, terrified of handing him even one Knut too many.
After an age, once the old goblin had counted the money a full ten times, he finally pushed the Galleons toward Herman and snapped, "Fifty Galleons a year until you're seventeen! Once you're seventeen, you can't collect money from us anymore!"
Herman did not particularly mind his terrible attitude. After all, he was getting money for free. How could he expect a smiling welcome as well?
He stuffed all the Galleons into his clothes, then, rather than leaving immediately, asked, "I heard pounds can be exchanged for Galleons."
The old goblin immediately showed a little more interest. There was money to be made from currency exchange, after all.
"Yes, but under the Ministry of Magic's foreign exchange regulations, only Muggle-born young wizards may exchange currency on a per-household basis, with an annual limit of one hundred Galleons. The current exchange rate is five pounds to one Galleon."
"All right, exchange a hundred Galleons for me." Herman took five hundred pounds from his pocket and handed it to the old goblin. Although he had left in a hurry and had not brought all his "getaway money," the wages he had received that morning were still in his pocket.
This time, the goblin readily counted out a hundred Galleons and pushed them toward Herman with both hands. He even wore a rare hint of a smile.
Herman still did not leave, however. Judging by the change in the goblin's attitude, exchanging pounds must have been profitable for the goblins, though he did not know what they intended to buy with them.
In that case, could he find a way to get some more Galleons? According to Dumbledore, this amount would cover his studies and living expenses at Hogwarts, and even allow him to live quite well. After all, most young wizards from Muggle families could only exchange a hundred Galleons, while he had also "freeloaded" an extra fifty Galleons in grant money.
But who would complain about having too much money? The shops he had seen along the way were filled with so many interesting things. Who could resist? If he had enough money, Herman even wanted to buy a Nimbus 2000.
"You just said the Ministry of Magic only allows an exchange of a hundred Galleons. If I wanted to exchange more, how would I do it?"
The old goblin immediately grew serious at Herman's words. With a stern face, he said, "Under the armistice signed after the second of the Goblin Wars, goblins must strictly abide by the Ministry of Magic's financial legislation in financial matters. Among its provisions is a ban on unauthorized exchanges between Galleons and Muggle currency. The Ministry of Magic stipulates that Muggle currency may not be exchanged except for Ministry needs and exchanges by the Muggle parents of Hogwarts students."
"Is there no way?" Herman took a few Galleons from inside his clothes and deftly rolled them back and forth between his fingers.
When Herman arrived at the orphanage, he had a silver coin tucked into his clothes. He had played with it all these years, so he was quite skilled at manipulating coins. This time, however, after the Galleons had spun a few times, they accidentally fell onto the old goblin.
Without the slightest change in expression, as though nothing had happened, the old goblin casually slipped the Galleons into his pocket. Then he solemnly stressed, "In light of Ministry regulations, I must sternly warn you not to conduct illegal currency exchanges in Knockturn Alley."
Black-market currency exchange in Knockturn Alley made sense. After all, it was a place where all sorts mingled. But Herman was unfamiliar with Knockturn Alley, so he took out a few more Galleons, which once again accidentally fell into the old goblin's lap.
The old goblin continued his warning. "And don't believe those rumors going around. The Kramer Goblin Supplies Shop certainly does not conduct illegal currency exchanges!"
"All right, understood. Sorry for the trouble. One more question: how much does it cost to open a vault?" Herman was still very curious about the vaults and wanted one of his own.
He would not necessarily deposit money in it, but going inside for a look and experiencing that mysterious atmosphere would be nice. Perhaps he could even gain some experience for earning extra money later. If they can steal, why can't I rob? Of course, that was merely a joking thought that flashed through Herman's mind.
The old goblin said with a hint of regret, "At present, Gringotts only offers vault services to members of ancient families with long histories and established legacies, or prominent figures of a certain standing in the Wizarding World."
"All right." Looking thoroughly disappointed, Herman left Gringotts, ready to begin his shopping trip.
As a young wizard about to enter Hogwarts, the first thing to do once he had money was naturally to buy a wand of his own.
And in Britain, the first choice-or rather, the only choice-was Ollivander's Wand Shop, with its thousand-year history of wandmaking.
As Herman gently pushed open the shop door, the bell rang out in a cheerful jingle. The little old man, Ollivander, appeared before him in an instant, as though he had emerged from some mysterious corner, and enthusiastically began introducing his shop's illustrious history:
"Ollivander's Wand Shop, makers of fine wands since 382 BC. Welcome, my young wizard. Judging by your age, you must need your very first wand. Which hand do you use, left or right?"
"Right." Herman had barely finished speaking when Ollivander, as though performing a magic trick, took a wand from a nearby shelf and thrust it into his hand without further discussion.
The moment the wand entered his hand, the magic within Herman stirred like awakened sprites, surging uncontrollably toward the wand's tip.
In the blink of an eye, a burst of flame erupted from the tip. It came so suddenly that it singed Ollivander's hair.
"No, no, this one has dragon heartstring. Far too volatile. Not suitable, not suitable." Ollivander hastily fumbled to snatch the wand back, then carefully returned it to its box.
"Try this one." As he spoke, Ollivander handed Herman several more wands, having him try them one after another.
Unfortunately, Herman did not enjoy the benefits of a protagonist's halo. He found a suitable wand on his third try.
It was a deep red wand. The moment Herman took it in his hand, the magic throughout his body stirred. Unlike the first wand with its dragon heartstring, however, the magic this wand awakened was lively without being volatile. Herman felt as though he had sunk into warm water, comfortable and at ease.
The wand in his hand felt like part of his body, an absolutely perfect fit. Waving it felt so natural and fluid.
As Herman waved it, a stream of silver light flowed from its tip, leaving a graceful arc in the air like a meteor streaking across the night sky, beautiful and mysterious.
"Very good, we've found it. This is your wand," Ollivander said excitedly, his face filled with a gratified smile, as though he had witnessed a great moment.