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Chapter 19 – The Vault of Gold and Guilt
The thought flickered through Darren's mind — breaking into Gringotts or stealing something valuable — before he quickly shook it off.
Merlin's beard, how uncivilized!
He, the future "Saint of Hogwarts," couldn't possibly stoop to such disgraceful behavior!
…Still, if money got tight, could he technically steal the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and pawn it off here?
Just for a moment, the idea danced in his head.
Across from him, the young goblin guide — Pullring — shivered.
A chill ran down his spine for no apparent reason.
He rubbed his hands and glanced around nervously.
Darren immediately looked away, pretending innocence.
Right. Bad idea. No stealing legendary swords. Maybe just… rob Malfoy instead?
He looks rich enough. And punchable.
He was still silently debating this "Robin Hood" strategy when Pullring brought the cart to a stop.
"Here we are," the goblin announced curtly, hopping off the trolley and unlocking a large iron door.
A cloud of greenish mist billowed out.
When it cleared, Darren's jaw dropped.
Mountains of gold glittered in the dim torchlight.
Stacks of silver bars gleamed beside heaps of bronze Knuts.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Steal money?
He? Darren Potter, model of virtue and integrity?
He's rich! Gloriously, beautifully rich!
Paggie let out a dramatic gasp, clutching a handkerchief like an actress in a tragic play.
"Three hundred thousand gold galleons… two million silver sickles… and Merlin knows how many bronze knuts!"
She sniffled miserably. "So poor! So very, very poor! How can my two little masters survive seven years on so little?"
Darren blinked. "...I'm sorry, what?"
He stared at her, utterly lost. "Three hundred thousand gold galleons is poor?"
Paggie wiped her tears. "Of course! When Master James was a boy, his formal robes alone cost thousands of galleons! And he had custom boots, party suits, enchanted hair tonics— Oh, my poor young masters! You'll have to budget!"
She wailed again, thumping her knee.
Darren was speechless.
Three hundred thousand galleons, by his estimate, was over two million pounds.
At current rates? He could buy all of Diagon Alley, half of London, and still have enough left to start a Quidditch team.
Even Pullring, standing outside the vault, looked stunned.
He'd spent years saving up a hundred galleons and thought himself quite wealthy.
If this was "poor," then what was he?
Pocket change incarnate?
"Little Master Darren," Paggie sniffed, regaining her composure, "rest assured. It won't be long before the Potter family business flourishes again! Paggie will rebuild everything and make the two young masters the richest wizards in England!"
Darren blinked again.
House-elves… are terrifying.
They weren't just loyal — they were hardworking, brilliant, and occasionally unhinged.
If Paggie handled the family's finances, he'd probably own the Daily Prophet by Christmas.
It suddenly hit him.
Why didn't Harry just keep Dobby?
If Dobby worked under Paggie's supervision, they'd both be rich and unstoppable.
Sure, Dobby was a bit… eccentric — the kind of elf who thought injuring Harry was a good way to "protect" him — but still! With proper management, Dobby could've been a goldmine.
He chuckled softly.
No wonder Harry stayed broke until the third year. He really needed better HR.
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Darren looked at Paggie with his most sincere expression — or at least the best imitation of one.
"Paggie," he said softly, "you're incredible. I've never met a house-elf as loyal and capable as you. I grew up in an orphanage, so even though I try to be kind, no one's ever treated me with such care."
He gestured sadly toward the mountain of gold.
"Money doesn't matter to me. I'd rather live poor forever than lose you. Promise me you'll stay safe, okay? I couldn't bear to lose someone who treats me like family."
[Ding! Holy Father Value +100]
Paggie burst into loud sobs, pressing both hands to her heart.
"Oh—Little Master Darren! You're the kindest wizard alive! The gentlest, purest soul! Paggie swears—she'll make you the richest, happiest wizard in the world!"
She blew her nose loudly into her handkerchief.
Darren smiled faintly, though his thoughts were entirely different.
Perfect. Let the elf handle business while I "spread the light of the Holy Father." Teamwork!
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Author's Note:
In the original series, J.K. Rowling never specified how much wealth James and Lily left behind. So the author's just having a little fun exaggerating their fortune here.
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