Compared to the somewhat shabby shops in Diagon Alley, Gringotts stood out like a sore thumb.
The gleaming white building had polished bronze doors, flanked by two goblins in scarlet-and-gold uniforms.
With this level of grandeur, it was no wonder it was the wizarding world's only designated bank.
Though it was baffling that wizards had entrusted their financial lifeline to another species.
Wayne remembered that historically, goblins were far from trustworthy—greedy, cunning, and prone to rebellion. They'd even coveted Gryffindor's sword.
A century ago, they'd tried to exploit ancient magic for their schemes, only to be stopped by a fifth-year Hogwarts transfer student.
But these matters weren't Wayne's concern.
If the sky fell, taller people would hold it up. And if goblins caused trouble when he was the tall one, he'd crush them with a finger.
After passing through the first set of doors, McGonagall and Wayne faced a second, inscribed with a warning for those with ill intentions.
Wayne ignored it without a glance and stepped into the marble hall. About a hundred goblins sat on high stools behind counters, weighing coins with brass scales, inspecting gems, or scribbling in ledgers.
Countless doors led to different vaults. McGonagall guided Wayne to the far-right counter.
"This is a new Hogwarts student. He needs to exchange Galleons."
Her tone was brisk, bordering on impatient. The goblin behind the counter didn't look up.
"Each student may exchange up to seventy Galleons per year at a rate of one to five point seven five. How much would you like?"
"That's it? What can you even buy with so little?" Wayne frowned.
"It's already more than enough," McGonagall whispered to him. "After deducting the necessities you've purchased, you'll still have ten Galleons left as pocket money each year."
McGonagall thought Wayne might not understand the wizarding currency and its purchasing power, so she explained further.
"One Galleon equals seventeen Sickles, and one Sickle equals twenty-nine Knuts."
Hearing this absurd prime number exchange rate, Wayne wasn't too surprised. This kind of nonsense had a long tradition in Britain.
Before 1971, one pound equalled twelve shillings, and one shilling equalled twenty pence. Those bad at maths often got tangled up in these convoluted conversions.
"Fine, seventy it is." Wayne stopped dwelling on it, pulling out eight fifty-pound notes from his wallet and placing them on the tray, along with a five-pound note as change.
The goblin took them, glanced briefly, and roughly stuffed them into a drawer before handing Wayne a small pouch through the window.
Once Wayne secured the money, McGonagall said, "Alright, now let's go buy your wand and other supplies."
"Uh, Professor McGonagall, I know you're in a hurry, but hold on."
Seeing Wayne linger at the counter, the goblin frowned. "You've already exchanged your quota for this year. What else is there? If you want to open a vault, your assets are insufficient—you need at least 500 Galleons to apply."
Wayne slung his backpack off and unzipped it slightly, revealing a glint of gold.
"Are you sure you want to discuss this here?"
The goblin's eyes widened. With eighty years of 996 experience at Gringotts, he knew that mesmerising gleam had to be gold!
His indifferent demeanour instantly turned enthusiastic as he leapt out from behind the counter, bowing and scraping to usher Wayne and McGonagall into a private room.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Wayne dumped several gold bars onto the table. The goblin's breathing grew heavy, and even Professor McGonagall's eyes nearly popped out of her head.
No wonder she thought Wayne's backpack looked heavy—it was packed with gold!
Unlike Muggle currency, gold was a hard commodity in the wizarding world. Whether minted into Galleons or used in alchemy or potion-making, it was extremely valuable.
Wasn't Nicolas Flamel famous precisely because his Philosopher's Stone could grant immortality and turn stone into gold?
Wayne had come prepared. If pounds could be exchanged for Galleons without limits, he'd brought twenty thousand pounds—enough for 4000 Galleons. If not, he'd just use gold to make an impression.
After some haggling, the goblin agreed to buy Wayne's gold bars for 5000 Galleons.
There was no way Wayne could carry all those Galleons, so he opened a vault at Gringotts and deposited 4800 of them, keeping only 200—plus the seventy he'd just exchanged—as spending money.
Once the deal was done, the goblin looked a bit sour.
"Mr Lawrence, you're a born financier. Perhaps you could work at Gringotts after graduation."
He had originally planned to take advantage of Wayne's ignorance of the market to make a hefty profit.
But the young wizard was shrewd, and with McGonagall assisting him, there was barely any profit left in this deal.
"If I get the chance, I'll come back," Wayne replied with a bright smile. Working at Gringotts wouldn't be bad, though he'd only settle for being the bank's president!
It wasn't until they stepped out of Gringotts that Professor McGonagall remarked with a sigh:
"Bringing gold into Gringotts… Mr Lawrence, you're the first young wizard I've met who's done that."
"Just a bit of family money, nothing worth mentioning," Wayne said modestly, not bringing up the fortune he'd obtained from the system's lottery.
As a true aristocrat of old London, born under the Union Jack, the Lawrence family's inheritance was an astronomical sum.
At present, sixty per cent of London's real estate is held by the royal family and the nobility, generating substantial rental income every year.
Though nowadays, newspapers are full of talk about the so-called decline of the aristocracy, the age of democracy, and opportunities everywhere.
But how could centuries of accumulated wealth and influence be so easily surpassed by a mere decade of hard study?
Well, except for Hasbulla Magomedov—he didn't even need to study.
Next on the agenda was purchasing firearms—no, wands.