"It's the first time I've ever seen a Gringotts goblin get so angry."
Hagrid's emotions were complicated. Deep down, he couldn't help but mutter complaints to himself—just as expected, goblins were no good.
Of course, that Professor was an exception.
How dare they bully poor Harriet?
The kind-hearted girl had even spoken up for them, yet those two fellows had actually started fighting because of it.
"Oh, Harriet, are you alright?"
Hagrid still remembered the mist in those green eyes. The memory made his heart ache.
"I'm fine, Professor Hagrid… oh no, sorry, my mind's a bit of a mess."
After the recent "satisfaction," Harriet had subconsciously slipped back into her old habits.
Gain the target's favor. Reel them in like a Fool. Then call Gehrman to collect the goods.
Calling him "Professor Hagrid" had been a complete slip of the tongue.
She could sense the grievance in Hagrid's voice when he spoke of his wand, and the longing when he mentioned that Professor.
The Fool above, be sincere! Hagrid is a good person—you can't do this.
With that thought, Harriet seized the opportunity to speak honestly.
"I mean, with your abilities, you're more than qualified to be a Professor."
He knew hundreds of magical creatures like the back of his hand. Hagrid could probably even tell how many hairs they had.
"Professor…" sniff "It's alright, Harriet. You're a kind child."
The giant was far more sensitive than he appeared.
He stood dazed for a moment before suppressing his emotions. Then he pulled a crumpled letter from his pocket and stuffed it into the goblin guide's hands.
"This is a personal letter from Professor Dumbledore. I also need to retrieve the item in Vault 713."
"No problem, sir."
Under the guidance of the goblin manager, the two boarded a small cart, which immediately shot forward into the depths of Gringotts at terrifying speed.
For an eleven-year-old child, this was overwhelmingly exciting.
For Harriet, it was still a bit lacking.
"How is it, Harriet? I remember James—your father—said this was a unique experience!"
Faced with Hagrid's eager gaze, Harriet decided to tell a harmless white lie.
"Ahhh!!!"
Fake screaming—exactly like a girl who'd just received a brand-new toy.
Soon, they arrived at the Potter family vault. Hagrid inserted the key and opened the door.
"Ahhh!!!"
Real screaming—like a girl struck dumb by unimaginable wealth.
In an instant, the most fragile line of defense in Harriet's heart collapsed.
The goblin had said people were eyeing the Potter vault. It seemed that wasn't nonsense after all.
The Fool above!
Gold—vast, blinding quantities. Enough to drive anyone mad.
Money.
Whether in London, Britain, or Backlund, Harriet had always been tormented by it.
Poverty had once been synonymous with her very existence.
It wasn't until she took advantage of that tragedy to escape the Demoness Sect and sail the seas—exchanging those infatuated fools who knelt like dogs for money—that she had enjoyed a brief period of prosperity.
Then she met Gehrman. Then she joined the Church of the Fool.
Everything had taken a sharp turn for the worse.
Poor. Very poor. Extremely poor.
It was difficult to describe that kind of life. It felt less like misfortune and more like a disturbance—or even a curse—inflicted by a high-level existence.
This was one of the rare moments when Harriet exposed her true self before an outsider.
"Yes, Harriet." Hagrid smiled at the dumbfounded girl. "This is the wealth your family left behind for you."
"So after all this time, good luck has finally favored me."
Harriet's mood was brighter than the sunlight flooding Diagon Alley.
"The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the copper coins are Knuts," Hagrid explained patiently.
"I'm not sure how Muggles divide currency, but in the wizarding world, twenty-nine Knuts make a Sickle, and seventeen Sickles make a Galleon. It's a bit hard to calculate."
Yes. Very hard.
That didn't stop Harriet from stuffing coins into her pockets—or from asking Hagrid for a bag.
At last, she had money.
She didn't even need to spend it. Just having money was satisfying enough.
"Alright! That's about enough."
After indulging herself, Harriet finally remembered that Hagrid also had something to retrieve.
The goblin guide was explaining matters to this "big client" at the same time.
"Miss Potter, Gringotts' vaults are absolutely secure. I assure you, not a single Knut will be lost."
"Of course," Harriet replied calmly. "That's your duty."
She had already let go of her worries. Her spiritual intuition had repeatedly issued warnings as they passed through layers of detection magic earlier.
If this place wasn't secure, then perhaps only the legendary Azkaban could safeguard such wealth.
The cart started again, plunging even deeper underground.
Eventually, it stopped at the end of a narrow tunnel, before a massive metal door that radiated strange magical fluctuations.
With the goblin manager's assistance, the door slowly opened—or rather, vanished entirely.
Compared to the sea of gold in the Potter vault, this place was pitifully barren.
At the center of the floor sat only a small package wrapped in brown cloth, lonely and unassuming.
Yet the moment the door disappeared, Harriet's spiritual intuition screamed in alarm.
What was that vast yet gentle power?
Hagrid, however, showed none of the caution she expected.
He stepped forward, picked up the package, stuffed it into his coat, and walked out as if he'd just collected an ordinary stone.
Harriet's emerald eyes narrowed slightly. It felt as though a black cat were scratching endlessly at her heart.
What was that thing?
More than that—her spiritual premonition seemed to be whispering something else.
The item inside the package… it might help her recover her strength.
Her heart itched.
"Hagrid."
She asked the kind of question any eleven-year-old child would.
"What is that?"
Hagrid patted the package.
"Don't tell anyone about this, Harriet."
"This is a secret. Professor Dumbledore gave strict instructions. It's for the school's use—I can't tell anyone."
If it's a secret, then why do it right in front of me?
Still, Harriet didn't press further.
An understanding smile appeared on her face, and she nodded obediently.
"I understand, Hagrid. Since it's Professor Dumbledore's instruction, I won't ask."
She deliberately shifted her gaze, pretending to lose interest as she examined the surroundings.
The Fool above… that thing is definitely not ordinary.
Harriet chuckled inwardly.
As expected of the only magic school in Britain. It hides quite a few secrets.
She restrained her curiosity.
As a Demoness with rich experience in courting death—and surviving—she knew better than to pry blindly.
Curiosity had to be controlled, at least until the key to the matter was understood.
But restraint was only temporary.
The restlessness in her blood whispered softly.
Simple joy from money had already been replaced by something far more exhilarating.
Since the item was being sent to the school…
And since she would soon be a student there…
There would always be a chance to come into contact with it again.
Dumbledore wouldn't place something like that in the school merely to hide it away.
The cart roared through the tunnel toward the exit.
Harriet let the wild wind whip through her black hair, her heart light and full of anticipation.
The shopping trip in Diagon Alley had only just begun.
And what stirred her heart even more was that small, unassuming package.
She had already begun calculating how to slowly uncover the truth behind that alluring spiritual presence—
Without raising a single shred of suspicion.
If you'd like, I can also:
Make it sound more like official Harry Potter prose