"Oh, Harry—oh, darling—you really can end up anywhere, can't you—"
Mrs. Weasley, out of breath, pulled a large clothes brush from her bag and started briskly dusting soot off Harry's robes.
Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, tapped them once with his wand, and handed them back spotless and gleaming.
Harry looked at every familiar face; the worry written on them was obvious… None of these witches or wizards ever complained that he caused trouble. Sometimes it felt like the day he'd escaped Privet Drive had been a dream.
"Sean—dear child, I'm so glad to see you," Mrs. Weasley cried when she noticed him, her eyebrows practically flying upward with delight.
"Come along, my dear children, let's go and fetch some Galleons."
It was the first time she'd spoken about going to the vault with this much confidence.
She took Harry's hand in her left, Sean's in her right, and swept them into the crowd.
Left "neglected" behind, Ron shrugged and muttered to Hermione and Justin:
"Mum's always nicer to people outside the family. Though I've never seen them this eager to go to the vault before, that's the weird part."
…
Sean was basically dragged along; Mrs. Weasley always had an extra dose of warmth for him, and she spent the walk peppering him with questions about how his summer had gone.
Mr. Weasley just chuckled amiably, backing her up as usual—right up until he ran into Hermione's parents.
They were standing awkwardly by the long marble counter that stretched across the hall, waiting for Hermione to come back and introduce them.
"Ah, I know—Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you must be Muggles!" Mr. Weasley said, delighted.
"We must have a drink together sometime! And what's that you're holding? Oh, you're changing Muggle money—look, Molly!"
He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound note in Mr. Granger's hand.
Soon a few goblins appeared to guide different witches and wizards to their respective vaults. Sean and the others would have to split up for a while.
The Weasleys went off with Harry, and Hermione hurried away to help her parents with the currency exchange.
That left just Sean and Justin.
"Together, Sean?" Justin asked. He seemed to have come to withdraw money on his own as well.
"All right."
Sean didn't refuse.
The goblin-driven cart shot along its narrow rails, racing through the underground tunnels of the bank toward the various vaults. The sense of hurtling through the dark was oddly exhilarating.
After they passed through another low tunnel, Justin's vault came into view—and once again the glitter nearly blinded Sean.
The place was stacked with all kinds of supplies he might need—and plenty he probably wouldn't—along with heaps and heaps of gold.
"My father doesn't think much of the wizarding world, and my mother's the same. But fortunately, they both support me," Justin said with a smile. His collar was as crisp as ever; Lady Fenlieri's ironing was unmistakable.
Sean glanced sideways at him. So that trunk Justin lugged to school really had only been a fraction of his things?
He vaguely remembered that there was a limit on how many Galleons you could get directly in exchange for pounds. Which meant… gold bars or jewelry, probably.
All right, he decided—he still couldn't really imagine what the world looked like from the top of that kind of wealth.
"And this is—"
When it was Sean's turn to open his own vault, Justin's jaw dropped so far an egg could've fit inside.
His sharp eye for detail gave him a rough idea of the amount involved—and that was exactly why he was so astonished.
Had someone robbed Gringotts and dumped the loot in here? Maybe not… robbery would probably be slower than this.
That was when Justin slowly realized just how absurdly lucrative a top-tier alchemist's craft could be.
When they came back out of Gringotts and rejoined the others, they all headed together toward Flourish and Blotts.
"I have no idea where Mum and Dad got the money for all our stuff this year," Ron muttered, still sounding half disbelieving. "Aside from a few old books with loads of useful notes, we've got five complete sets of Lockhart's rubbish! And Ginny's robes and wand and everything are sorted too…"
"Isn't Mr. Weasley in the Ministry?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"Harry… you don't know—the Ministry's not exactly a charity," Ron said under his breath. Hermione and Justin leaned in, curious.
Before they could probe further, they realized there was a huge crowd outside the bookshop. Everyone was trying to squeeze in.
A banner stretched across the upstairs windows:
"The Mentor of the Sage? Exclusive interview with Flora Olivia Tayra, now on sale."
Beneath it hung a smaller banner:
"Gilderoy Lockhart, signing copies of his autobiography Magical Me
Today, 12:30–4:30"
"'Mentor of the Sage'? How did I miss that?" Hermione said, dazed.
"Maybe because none of us live in the wizarding world?" Justin said, amused.
The Flourish and Blotts banner had clearly been up for a while; all the copies of the day's papers had already been snapped up. Here and there, a few satisfied witches and wizards were saying things like:
"That alchemical sage is so young—and still a Hogwarts student. Merlin, I graduated too early…"
A young witch whispered to the shy-looking wizard at her side.
"Y-yeah, but… actually, we graduated five years ago," he mumbled.
The witch shot him a withering glare and stalked off; he only realized what he'd said a moment later, sprinting after her with a miserable expression.
The whole scene made Hermione wince in sympathetic embarrassment.
"What an idiot," she muttered.
Justin chimed in his agreement, and then noticed Harry and Ron looking equally confused.
"You two as well," Hermione snapped.
But her annoyance didn't last. Her attention soon shifted as Gilderoy Lockhart's name and face began to swirl through the crowd. The knot of people pressing around the bookshop was mostly witches about Mrs. Weasley's age, all visibly dazzled.
A harried-looking wizard stood in the doorway trying to keep some semblance of order.
"Ladies, please—quietly… don't shove… mind the books…"
Sean, as usual, ended up in the center of the group, being pulled along as they squeezed their way through the entrance.
The line twisted from the door all the way to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart sat signing his books.
They each grabbed a copy of Break with a Banshee and slipped over to where the Weasleys and the Grangers were queued up.
"Oh, there you are, thank goodness," Mrs. Weasley panted, fanning herself and repeatedly patting her hair back into place.
"It's such a pity we couldn't get the paper, but we're about to meet Mr. Lockhart in person…"
Gradually, they caught sight of him.
Lockhart sat at a table, surrounded by enormous moving photographs of himself; every one of his images winked and flashed blindingly white smiles at the crowd.
The real Gilderoy wore robes the exact blue of forget-me-nots, making his bright blue eyes appear even more striking. His pointed wizard hat perched jauntily atop his wavy golden hair.
"Yes, yes, everyone, you won't regret coming," he proclaimed grandly. "Today's two great events are both about me—"