I stood outside the wand shop, my heart thrumming with excitement.
In my hand, I held my very own wand—my wand.
For years, I had dreamed of this moment, and now, piece by piece, those childhood dreams were becoming reality. As I held the wand tighter, a faint pulse ran through my fingers, as if the wood itself was alive, resonating with my magic. This was no ordinary wand. It was something far greater. If my instincts were correct, this wand would be far more powerful than most.
I wanted—no, I ached—to test it out.
To wave it, to cast a spell, to feel the magic surge through me.
But I knew better. This was a public place, and reckless magic in the middle of Diagon Alley would only bring unnecessary attention. With a deep breath, I steadied myself and focused on my next task—Gringotts.
As I made my way toward the northern end of Diagon Alley, a towering white structure rose into view—Gringotts. The bank, constructed from gleaming snow-white marble, dominated the skyline. It stood proudly at the heart of the bustling alley, its grand façade glowing under the afternoon sunlight like a monument to power and wealth.
When I reached the entrance, I was greeted by the imposing sight of two goblins flanking the polished bronze doors. Dressed in scarlet and gold-trimmed uniforms, they held long, deadly-looking spears in their spindly hands. Their sharp, calculating eyes followed every passerby, scanning them with cold efficiency.
As I approached, I could feel their gaze settle on me, assessing me, silently weighing my worth. These goblins looked strikingly similar to the monsters we called goblins in my old world—same wiry limbs, same angular faces—but there were differences too. These ones didn't carry the raw savagery I'd come to associate with their counterparts. No, these goblins had evolved—refined. Still greedy, still cunning, but cloaked in civilization.
I stepped past the bronze doors and entered the next chamber, where a pair of silver doors stood tall, guarded once again by grim-faced goblins. Etched into the metal were words of warning—just as described in the books. I paused briefly, taking in the gravity of the moment, then stepped through.
What lay beyond was breathtaking.
The main hall was exactly as I had seen from the films—long, majestic, and filled with the quiet hum of magic and money. A goblin sat at a tall desk straight ahead, scribbling something with focused intensity. On either side, rows of goblins worked diligently behind their own counters—some weighing gold coins on precise brass scales, others inspecting glittering gemstones under magnifying glasses.
Wizards and witches bustled around, speaking in hushed tones. I watched as one nervous young wizard timidly approached a goblin, clearly intimidated. The goblin barely looked up before motioning him away with a frown. Gringotts was infamous for its unforgiving security and ruthless professionalism, and seeing it firsthand only confirmed its reputation.
For a moment, I was swept up in nostalgia. I remembered Arjun's parents—the way they'd looked around this very hall with wide eyes and anxious expressions during their first visit to exchange Muggle money. They'd clutched each other's hands, so unsure, so out of place. The memory made my chest tighten, but I shook it off. That was the past.
I approached the goblin seated directly ahead and greeted him politely. He didn't even acknowledge me—just kept writing, his quill scratching against the parchment. A little taken aback, I tried again, louder this time: "Hello!"
This time, he paused and looked up, visibly irritated. All around, goblins and nearby guards turned to glance at me. The tension in the air tightened slightly.
"State your business, wizard. I haven't a moment to waste," he snapped.
I took a breath to steady myself. "I'm here to sell a valuable item... and to open a bank account."
He gave a curt nod. "What item?" he asked flatly. "For the account, proceed to desk number three."
Without answering, I reached into my pocket and, under the cover of my robe, silently invoked my item box. With practiced ease, I withdrew a pearl necklace—an ancient piece, delicate yet regal.
He took it with a dismissive glance—clearly expecting nothing impressive. But as his eyes scanned the necklace more closely, the color drained from his face. His expression shifted from indifference to shock, and I couldn't help the small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
The goblins at nearby desks began to lean in, curious now. Whispers spread. Whatever this necklace was, they could tell it was no ordinary trinket.
Without a word, the goblin stood up abruptly. "Wait here," he ordered, then turned and disappeared into the hall.
Now alone, I could feel the weight of a hundred suspicious eyes turning toward me—goblins and wizards alike. Some looked intrigued, others wary. I adjusted my robes, trying not to let the attention get to me, but my pulse was racing.
After a few tense minutes, the goblin returned—this time with a different demeanor. There was a flicker of respect in his tone, though he tried to hide it beneath his formal professionalism.
"Sir," he said crisply, "we have arranged a private meeting room to discuss the sale of your item. The manager will be with you shortly."
As soon as I heard the goblin's change in tone, I knew they had realized the true value of the necklace. Ignoring the suspicious stares from the other goblins and wizards in the hall, I quietly followed the goblin leading me deeper into the bank. He took me to a side room, and as we stepped inside, I saw another goblin—older, with wrinkles etched like cracks in ancient stone—sitting behind a private desk, studying the necklace with unblinking eyes.
There was something familiar about him. I narrowed my eyes, racking my brain. Then it clicked—he was the same goblin Harry Potter had placed under the Imperius Curse to infiltrate Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. My mind wandered, comparing how eerily similar the characters in the movie were to the real people in this world.
Before I could dwell on it any longer, the silence was broken by the goblin who had brought me in. "Sir, this is the wizard who brought in the jade necklace."
The elder goblin—his name eluded me—lifted his gaze from the necklace and said calmly, "Burgock, you may leave."
With a short nod, the first goblin left. The senior goblin then raised his gnarled hand and gestured towards the entrance. With a subtle flick of magic, the door closed behind me with a thud, and he snapped his fingers. Runes embedded in the doorway flared to life with a silvery-blue glow, filling the room with an almost tangible magical pressure.
A sudden wave of arcane energy surged around us, brushing against my skin like a static charge. I instinctively braced myself, magic stirring within me, ready to respond to any threat. The goblin must have noticed.
"Do not fear, honored wizard," he said in a more respectful tone. "This is merely a privacy spell. No sound will escape this room. Please, have a seat."
His words reminded me of the Silence Spell, though the method was different here. In my world, spells were cast directly through will and intent—magic channeled from within. But here, it seemed wizards relied more on mediums like runes. I wondered if this was due to their low magic reserves or lack of direct control.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed the goblin speaking again. His eyes lingered on my clothes, then shifted to meet mine.
"Wizard, do you even know what this necklace is? Is it truly yours? Or did you steal it?"
His tone carried a hint of mockery. I didn't flinch.
"I found it during my travels," I replied coldly, locking eyes with him. "It was hidden deep within an ancient temple along with other treasure. This necklace was just a small piece. And yes, I know exactly what it is and what it's made from. If you're interested in buying it, make an offer. If not, I have no shortage of buyers."
The goblin flinched slightly, as if realizing he had overstepped. "Ah, my apologies, Honored Wizard," he said, now more cautious. "I merely wished to confirm its origins. A necklace of this kind appearing on the market is… rare. The only one of similar quality is held by the Malfoy family, and even that one is inferior."
He leaned closer, his tone growing reverent as he began analyzing the piece.
"These pearls are no ordinary stones—they're Imperial Jadeite, the finest quality imaginable. The emerald hue is evenly distributed, perfectly clear, without even a trace of fogginess. This isn't man-made. It's entirely natural. The texture, the polish… exquisite."
His voice softened into near awe as he examined the craftsmanship, marveling at the symmetry of the thirty-five matching pearls.
"The artisan who made this…" he whispered, "must've been a master. Every stone mirrors the next. Such precision—it's a lost art."
I watched him, half amused as he slipped deeper into his admiration, like he'd forgotten I was even there. Eventually, I cleared my throat and interrupted.
"I assume we can move on to discussing the sale now?" I said with a raised eyebrow.
Snapping out of his trance, the goblin quickly straightened his clothes, cleared his throat, and returned to his chair—composing himself with a dignity that hadn't been there moments ago.
Just as the goblin was about to speak, I cut in sharply, "Any information related to this necklace must remain strictly private. I want an exclusive Gringotts contract to ensure complete confidentiality."
The goblin paused, clearly weighing his words before replying, "Gringotts maintains the privacy of all its customers, honored wizard. Unless the Ministry formally requests account details for an active investigation—and even then, our legal team carefully reviews the case to determine whether disclosure is absolutely necessary."
I nodded slowly, "Sounds fair."
The goblin then lifted the necklace carefully into his hands, holding it as if it were a sacred relic. "Gringotts is prepared to offer 3.5 million Galleons for this piece," he said.
I leaned back in the chair, disappointed. My expression was unreadable, but my tone carried a hint of disdain. "Only 3.5 million? My sources told me a rare necklace like this could fetch around 6 to 7 million at a Gringotts-managed auction. I'd prefer to sell it for six."
The goblin fidgeted slightly, clearing his throat. "I don't know about your sources, but based on jadeite's market value—"
I interrupted coldly, "A flawless natural imperial jadeite of this quality doesn't have a market price… because no piece like it exists in the market. This isn't some mass-produced trinket."
Wiping the sweat from his forehead with a neatly folded handkerchief, the goblin countered, "4.5 million. A generous compromise."
I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. My voice dropped to a sharper edge. "Let's not waste each other's time. 5.5 million—or I'll take it to a private collector. I'm sure there are plenty of pureblood families who'd fight to own something like this."
The goblin's composure faltered as he slammed his fist onto the desk, causing the polished wood to echo with a dull thud. He quickly caught himself, exhaling slowly to regain control. After a tense moment of silence, he spoke again.
"Mr. Honored Wizard," he said through gritted teeth, "as a final offer, Gringotts will pay 5 million Galleons… and provide you with a high-security vault—free of cost. No fees, not now, not ever. Even future transactions from your vault will remain without charges."
That caught my attention. It was a solid offer. For just half a million less, I'd be gaining something priceless—complete financial privacy and security. And it's not like I was short on treasure anyway.
I took a breath and said, "Deal. But I still want an exclusive contract from Gringotts ensuring my privacy, even in future transactions."
The goblin gave a pleased nod and extended his hand. We shook on it firmly, sealing the deal.
What followed was a tour of Gringotts' most secure vaults. Two stood out.
The first was guarded by layers of ancient protective enchantments—and a dragon. I declined it without a second thought. My past experiences with dragons in another world were enough for a lifetime. The second vault, though, was different. Shielded by magic, it could only be opened by a certified Gringotts-employed goblin. That felt safer—and more discreet. I selected that one.
Returning to his desk, the goblin snapped his fingers while glancing at the bookshelf behind him. One of the twenty-two thick ledgers floated off the shelf and opened itself on the desk. As he began writing down my details, he also registered my wand by touching it lightly to the pages.
It hit me then—these books contained records of every customer, their vault number, and possibly their financial history. A treasure trove of secrets.
He finally looked up with a respectful expression. "Mr. Chhimpa, your vault is ready. Number 777. From this moment on, I am your exclusive liaison at Gringotts. I am always available to assist you."
"And the gold?" I asked calmly.
"Of course," he replied. "Shortly, your 5 million Galleons will be transferred to your vault. Would you like to visit it now?"
I shook my head. "No, I have other matters to attend to. But I do need 100,000 Galleons in hand—half of which I want in Muggle currency. Also, I'll need a bag for it."
The goblin offered a sly smile. "Certainly, sir. Please, allow us to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile, would you care to rest in our VIP guest room while everything is prepared?"
I nodded, and he rang a small silver bell on his desk. Another goblin appeared swiftly, bowing before me, and was instructed to escort me to the guest area.
The guest room was luxuriously furnished with soft chairs, enchanted lighting, and a spread of high-quality food. Even a crystal bottle of fire-whisky was placed beside a goblet—clearly an attempt to impress.
But I declined the drink. Sharing alcohol with goblins, even with my immense strength, seemed unnecessarily risky. Better to stay alert in unfamiliar territory.
I waited in the plush guest room for nearly an hour, seated on a deep-cushioned chair that sank just a little too much beneath my weight. The scent of polished wood and parchment lingered faintly in the air, mixing with a hint of spiced tea and fire-whisky.
Eventually, a goblin arrived and silently gestured for me to follow. I was led back to the manager's office, where the goblin manager now sat behind his desk. Spread neatly before him were several sealed documents and two bags—one small, one significantly heavier.
Without a word, I approached and began reading each contract thoroughly. My eyes scanned every line, searching for any hidden clauses, any fine print that could be twisted and used against me. I didn't trust goblins—not fully. Their loyalty to gold was stronger than their loyalty to any client.
Once satisfied, I picked up the quill and signed the documents one by one. The ink shimmered briefly with a silvery glow before vanishing into the parchment.
The manager then slid 50 small pouches across the table. I swept my hand over them and discreetly used a detection spell—each contained exactly 1,000 galleons, just as promised. Alongside them sat neatly stacked bundles of Muggle currency, equaling the remaining 50,000 galleons' worth. A sturdy, old-fashioned leather bag—clearly enchanted with an extension charm—rested beside it all. Its surface was rough to the touch, worn but reliable.
I packed the galleon pouches and the Muggle money carefully into the bag, making sure they were balanced. The contracts I kept in hand, neatly organized in a single leather-bound file.
Now standing just outside Gringotts Bank, sunlight hit my face as I took a moment to breathe. One hand held the weighty bag of gold, the other clutched the contract file. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then slipped into a quiet, empty alleyway.
There, I quickly retrieved a single pouch of 1,000 galleons from the bag, then stashed the bag and the contract file securely into my Item Box with a swift motion of my hand and a murmur of magic. Just like that, they vanished from view, locked in the personal spatial dimension only I could access.
Now, with only the pouch in hand, which I slipped discreetly into the inner pocket of my jacket, I stepped back out onto the bustling street.
It was time to blend in—and for that, I needed proper robes. There was only one place that came to mind: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
After walking for a while, I finally found the shop. It was a small, welcoming storefront with a purple sign displaying its name, and the window showcased a variety of robes, including Hogwarts uniforms and elegant dress robes.
The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by the warm glow of enchanted lanterns hanging from the ceiling, casting a soft light over the shop. Neatly arranged robes lined the walls in an elegant display, their fine fabrics shimmering faintly under the illumination.
To one side, a group of enchanted measuring tapes flitted around customers, taking their measurements automatically, while floating needles adjusted robes to fit them perfectly. The soft hum of magic filled the air, blending with the rustling of fabric and quiet murmurs of other shoppers.
Behind the counter stood a plump witch with sharp eyes, a measuring tape draped around her neck like a badge of expertise. The moment she saw me, she greeted me with a warm, cheerful smile.
"Hello, dear! Are you looking for something special? Party wear or everyday robes?"
I shook my head slightly. "Just normal wear for now."
She nodded and led me toward the ready-made section, where rows of well-crafted, pre-enchanted robes hung neatly. I browsed through them carefully, feeling the textures and examining the stitching. After some deliberation, I finally picked three:
A charcoal black robe—classic and understated.
A dark green robe with silver clasps—elegant, with a slightly regal feel.
A navy-blue robe—this one stood out the most, its design resembling something from a medieval fantasy tale.
All three were made from high-quality enchanted leather, hooded, and layered with a vest-like design. More importantly, they were magically enhanced with:
Self-repairing charms (for minor tears and damage)
Anti-rain enchantments (perfect for unpredictable weather)
Anti-stain protection (to keep them looking pristine)
The total cost came to 2036 Galleons—a hefty sum, but worth it.
I took the robes to the changing room and put on the navy blue one. The moment I pulled the hood up, I felt the way it settled over my shoulders—comfortable, light, yet sturdy. With this, I truly looked like a proper wizard.
Satisfied, I returned to the counter and asked about Muggle clothing as well.
Madam Malkin quickly fetched a simple yet elegant set of Muggle wear, which cost me just 100 Galleons. With a flick of her wand, she adjusted the fittings instantly, ensuring a perfect fit.
With my purchases done, I stepped out of the shop, now dressed in my new wizarding attire.
For the first time since arriving in this world, I truly felt like I belonged here.