"I've got it," said Hagrid, rummaging through his pockets.
First, he pulled out two ferrets and set them on the counter. Then came a worn stuffed toy. Finally, after searching a bit longer, he let out a relieved sigh.
"Found it."
Hagrid raised a small golden key.
The goblin took it, examined it with meticulous care, then handed it back.
"Everything seems to be in order."
"I've also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid added casually, pulling a crumpled parchment from his pocket. "It's about that thing in Vault Seven Hundred and Thirteen."
Harry knew it was meant to be confidential, but Hagrid's voice was so loud that, even if he hadn't wanted to, he clearly heard the phrase "that thing in Vault 713."
What kind of conspicuous conspiracy was this? Harry found the situation both amusing and mildly exasperating.
The goblin took the letter, carefully examined the magical seals, then read it thoroughly before nodding.
"Very well. I'll have someone escort you to… the cart."
At the goblin's shout, a short goblin dressed in formal attire appeared instantly beside them.
"All right, let's go," Hagrid said, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder and motioning for him to follow. "First we'll get your money, then we'll deal with the rest."
"Hey! Your animals!" shouted the goblin at the counter.
Hagrid jumped, suddenly remembering the creatures he'd left behind. He hurried back, stuffed the still-dazed ferret and Fang into his enormous coat pocket, then returned and followed the goblin.
Harry and Hagrid climbed into the small cart, which immediately shot off along the tracks toward the vaults.
The speed was tremendous; icy air whipped past Harry's face, making his eyes sting.
Noticing that neither Hagrid nor Griphook was paying attention to him, Harry quickly conjured a subtle protective layer—a light, armor-like shield—to block the cutting wind.
"Hagrid… do you really think we're rich?" Harry asked, still a little uneasy.
"Don't worry about that, Harry," Hagrid said with a laugh. "If you're worrying whether your family had money or not—hah! If James knew that, he'd be furious—"
Before he could finish, the cart came to an abrupt stop.
"We've arrived," Griphook announced professionally.
Hagrid stepped forward and opened the vault.
"Wow…"
Harry was left speechless by the mountain of golden coins piled before him. Did he truly possess such a fortune hidden beneath London?
Without knowing why, his mind drifted to the memory of a long-haired blonde girl he'd met on the train during his first year.
Arrogant and spoiled, she constantly bragged about her father, mocked Harry's poverty, and tried—unsuccessfully—to recruit him as her follower.
Especially that summer after second year…
"What? What are you doing here—buying secondhand robes?"
Outside an elegant wizarding shop, Cassandra Malfoy lifted her chin, staring at Harry with disdain.
Harry didn't mind her mockery. Compared to the Dursleys, her tone was almost polite.
"Yes," he replied with a faint smile. "Do you have any you've already worn?"
The girl's gray eyes flashed with contempt before she turned and walked out of the shop.
That afternoon, Harry ended up with two old Slytherin robes.
"Harry? Harry?"
He blinked and returned to reality. Hagrid was watching him with a satisfied grin.
"See? I told you. Your family left you quite a fortune."
"Yeah…" Harry murmured. He had never seen so much money in his life. Lost in thought, he even wondered whether this meant he was now richer than the Malfoys.
"These gold coins are called Galleons," Hagrid explained patiently. "The silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. Simple, right?"
As he spoke, he helped Harry stuff his pockets with coins.
Simple…
Harry had long since lost count of how many times he'd complained internally about the wizarding world's currency system.
When would they ever learn from Muggles and reform it properly? Even the Muggle world had abandoned outdated systems back in 1971.
"All right, that should be enough for two terms," Hagrid said. "I'll keep the rest safe for you."
Then he turned to Griphook.
"Now, please take us to Vault 713. And—could you maybe slow down a bit?"
"There is only one speed," Griphook replied curtly.
Hagrid shrugged apologetically at Harry.
Harry didn't mind. After all, he still had his protection.
Almost immediately, he noticed that the door to Vault 713 had no lock.
"Stand back," Griphook ordered solemnly.
The goblin extended a long finger and touched the door, which slowly vanished.
"No one but Gringotts goblins should ever do this," he warned. "Unless you want to be sucked into the door and never come out."
Harry watched as Griphook and Hagrid went in and emerged moments later. A vault that secure could only hold something extraordinarily valuable.
Almost instantly, Harry felt a powerful aura of ancient magic radiating from Hagrid's arms.
He regretted not going in with them.
Ancient magic was peculiar: before the age of fifteen, one could only sense its aura—not wield it.
Still, his intuition told him that, with the help of that object, age might not be an obstacle.
"What is it?" Harry asked curiously, doing his best to sound like an eleven-year-old.
"Oh—no, Harry, I can't tell you," Hagrid said quickly. "It's a task Professor Dumbledore gave me to deliver to Hogwarts. He was very clear about secrecy… even you can't know. Please forgive me."
"That's all right," Harry nodded in understanding.
Since it was a secret, he couldn't force Hagrid to speak.
Besides, in his heart, that tall, kind man had already become a true friend.
And Harry had understood what Hagrid left unsaid.
If it was to be delivered to Hogwarts, then it wouldn't disappear anytime soon.
It wouldn't be too late to study it after the term began.
/------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/
Read more chapters on my Patreon: https://patreon.com/SailorTranslations?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink