Gringotts

"Harry Potter?" Hermione overheard their conversation and asked with a hint of curiosity, "Who's that?"

"He's a young wizard who defeated the Dark Lord over a decade ago, and he'll be starting school at the same time as you this year. Nobody knows how he did it; it was a miracle, and that's why he's remembered to this day."

As Victor led the group up the steps of the Leaky Cauldron, he answered their questions in a friendly manner.

The Leaky Cauldron's old steps were rather steep, creaking as they stepped on them. Because there were many wizards these past two days, they sometimes had to squeeze past people coming down the narrow steps.

While avoiding a wizard, Mrs. Granger noticed a particular term with some apprehension.

"Who is the Dark Lord?"

"Just think of him as a wizard who advocates racial inequality. He only believes that Muggle-born wizards are one race, while pure-blood wizards are another, so he gathered a group of wizards to persecute the former, and at one point there was a crisis of him taking over the wizarding world."

"Does that mean Hermione is also among those being persecuted?"

Victor turned and glanced at the worried Mrs. Granger.

"Most people in the wizarding world don't support his actions, including Hogwarts, so there's nothing to worry about."

Although he said that, as he spoke, Victor suddenly felt his prophetic spirit being touched—his intuition told him that Hermione should be worried about this, just not so soon.

This intuition also made Victor frown.

Could this Dark Lord return to Hogwarts and pose a danger to the students?

This is not a good sign.

Later, when he fell silent, the Grangers' expressions also became somber.

Their years of experience navigating London society told them that the intricacies of the situation were far more complex than they thought; otherwise, Harry Potter, the "savior," wouldn't have garnered so much attention, and the Dark Lord wouldn't have been described as having "once dominated the wizarding world."

They began to worry about Hermione's future.

Amidst their differing thoughts, the group finally reached the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron, passed through a small garden, and arrived at a small platform with only trash cans.

Victor counted three bricks up, then two to the left, and then reached out and tapped the designated brick.

"Knock knock knock".

His knuckles touched the wall, making a soft sound.

Immediately afterwards, the wall began to tremble slightly.

Starting with the brick he struck, bricks receded one after another, gradually revealing an enlarging opening. On the other side of the opening, a bustling street came into view.

Hermione looked into the shop window across the street and saw several crucibles. Around the corner was another shop, probably a pharmacy, its entrance piled high with all sorts of herbs and some moving plants Hermione had never seen before. At the pharmacy's main entrance, a woman was shaking her head, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen sieverts an ounce, they're insane..."

This novel visual experience instantly eased my previously heavy mood.

They walked onto the cobblestone street, and after they passed, the brick wall behind them closed up again, becoming a neat red brick wall.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Victor said with a nod. "I'll take you to Gringotts to exchange some Galleons first."

"Okay, okay."

The Grangers were so amazed by the view that they could barely speak.

The further they went, the more varied the scenery became. Hermione saw the Madam Malkin's Robes Shop that Professor McGonagall had mentioned earlier. In the shop window, there was a row of exquisite cloaks of various colors that moved and would fold up the corners of their robes as someone passed by, making a bowing gesture.

All of this made Hermione unable to look away.

But as she looked at these novel items, she quickly realized how out of place she was with the people around her.

In London, her white shirt and jeans were ordinary, but among the crowds of wizards in vintage cloaks, she stood out like a clove of garlic squeezed into an orange.

She couldn't help but think of what Victor had mentioned about the "Dark Lord" before.

"We've arrived."

At that moment, Victor suddenly spoke.

They had arrived in front of a bank entirely carved from marble. The bank was at least two stories high, with a Baroque-style dome that looked exceptionally grand, and the words "Gringotts" were inscribed in cursive script at the top.

Victor was the first to push open the door and go inside.

On either side, two fairies bowed to them and opened the second door for them.

Victor glanced at the words on the door and shook his head inwardly.

The fairy still lacks imagination. If he opened a bank, he would put ten layers of curses on the sign at the entrance to expose thieves and fully guarantee the safety of the property. He would also add something exciting inside.

For example: "Beware, when your hand touches any wealth that does not belong to you, death will come upon you."

As soon as they entered, a short, long-nosed fairy said to them in a shrill voice:

"For Muggles exchanging Galleons, please go to the first counter on the right. For withdrawals or deposits, please go to the second counter. For opening an account, please go to the third counter. For other matters, please go to the last counter!"

Please do not crowd, please queue in an orderly manner!

The view after entering is quite breathtaking.

The bank's roof was at least three stories high, entirely paved with pristine white marble. Behind the counters on either side of the lobby sat nearly a dozen fairies, some examining gems with eyepieces, others registering information in ledgers. Behind the counters were countless doors, with fairies leading people in and out.

Victor watched for a while, then turned to the Grangers and said:

"I also have things to take care of, so I'll go to the third counter first. You can do your business at the first counter. Come find me if you need anything."

"No problem," Mr. Granger nodded.

Victor then walked toward the fairy at the third counter.

Compared to the other counters, this one was unusually empty. The fairy, dressed in a scarlet robe trimmed with gold, was listlessly registering something on the table.

When it saw Victor arrive, it still ignored him and said:

"Sir, is there anything I can help you with?"

"I want to open an account specifically for Hogwarts' monthly salary remittances."

"Then please show me your identification and proof of employment at Hogwarts."

Victor handed over his folded certificate.

After looking at it two or three times, the fairy's eyes suddenly seemed to bulge out as she looked at it carefully one more time.

"...You are Mr. Victor Vanderbohm?!"

Its sound was three decibels louder.

"Yes. How so?"

After Victor admitted it, the fairy's attitude changed abruptly. She suddenly became incredibly enthusiastic and almost leaned out of the counter to grasp Victor's hand—but Victor took a step back two seconds in advance, just in time to avoid it.

Unfortunately, distance could not hide the fairy's incredibly passionate gaze.

It said excitedly:

"Mr. Van der Bohm, our bank has long heard of you! It's a pity we don't know where you live, so our letters have never been able to reach you, which is truly regrettable. But please believe me, our respect for you comes from the bottom of our hearts!"

"The manager already instructed that if you open an account, we will waive all fees and allow you to enjoy our bank's highest benefits at all times!"

"Please give us an address so we can send you Gringotts gift packs during holidays! Oh, and also the highest level vault limits and loan interest rates..."

Victor interrupted it coldly: "What are you doing? Do you need something from me?"

"Ah, it's not that I have something to say, it's just a request—a request." The fairy's mouth was practically stretched to her ears, and her nose was sticking out wildly as if she wanted to poke Victor's face, causing him to frown and take a few steps back.

As she approached him, the fairy lowered her voice and said:

"We've heard that you're an excellent prophet. You successfully predicted Professor Sybil Trelawney's accident, even down to the exact timing."

"Yes, but then what?"

"That's absolutely a miracle! I'm so glad you say that!"

"Wait, where was I? Oh right, prophecy. Because you have the ability to foresee time, we at Gringotts wish to collectively make a humble request of you—"

"Can you help us predict price fluctuations in the materials trading market?"

"...What the hell?"