Chapter - 20 : The Vaults of Gringotts

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"Get in," Griphook ordered as a mine cart rolled up to us. Hagrid looked a little green as he crammed himself into the back. Harry and I climbed in front of him, and Griphook took point. The cart lurched under us and we were off, whizzing down the track, making turns on its own and taking us deeper and deeper.

"What's the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite?" Harry mused aloud.

"Stalagmites got an m in it," Hagrid groaned. "I hate these carts, they make me sick."

"Stalagmites are the ones on the ground," I recalled, observing Hagrid. His lips were pinched together like he was trying to hold back vomit. At the risk of being sprayed with what could potentially be buckets of sick, Harry and I kept quiet and didn't ask him any more questions.

We ground to a stop by a little door in the wall. Hagrid got out to lean against the wall, steadying himself. Griphook climbed out as well and took the key, sliding it into the lock and turning it. He opened the door and a puff of green smoke exploded out. When it cleared, I stared in awe.

Heaps of gold, columns of silver, and piles of bronze. Faintly, I wondered what the exchange rate from wizard to Muggle currency was, and whether it fluctuated with the prices of gold and silver. No matter what the rate was, I was positive I was looking at more money than I'd ever seen before. The idea that I had this vault full of precious metals and… yeah, I saw some jewelry cases sitting on a table, barely visible in a heap of Knuts.

"If the Dursleys had any idea they'd lose their minds," Harry murmured.

"I think we might be richer than they are," I said, smothering my laughter in a hand. The idea that I had to beg and plead for new clothes from the Dursleys now seemed hysterical, when I could probably buy their whole house several times over.

Hagrid helped us shovel some money into a bag for each of us, explaining as he did so, "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. Righ', that'll be enough for a couple'a terms. We'll keep the res' safe here fer yeh. Vault 713 please, and can we go a bi' slower?" Hagrid almost begged the goblin.

Griphook smiled unpleasantly. "One speed only."

We went even deeper into the vaults, the air getting colder and damper around us. The torches seemed to be a little more infrequent, leaving us in short patches of darkness. When we stopped beside vault 713, Harry and I both looked forwards eagerly. After our vault, we were expecting something equally impressive. Perhaps mounds of precious jewels or secret spell books or ancient artifacts.

"Stand back," Griphook ordered. The door had no keyhole, but when Griphook stroked it with a long finger, the door simply dissolved into nothing. "If any but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked inside and trapped."

I couldn't resist asking, "How often do you check to see if anyone's in there?"

Griphook gave me a nasty grin. "About once a decade."

I wished I hadn't asked.

Inside was rather anticlimactic. No jewels, no books, no artifacts. In fact at first it looked totally empty, not even a forgotten Knut sparkling from the corner. But then Hagrid stepped forwards, scooping up a grubby little package about the size of my palm. It was tied with brown twine. Hagrid shoved it into his pocket before we could really notice anything else beyond that.

"Bes' not mention this to anyone at the school," Hagrid advised. "Now come on, back in the bloody cart, and don' talk to me on the way back. I think I migh' vomit."

When we emerged into the sunlight, I felt a bit of sensory overload. After the dark vaults the bright sunlight and bustling noise of the street was a little dizzying. The pouch of money was heavy in my hands and I was debating about where to run first. There were so many things I wanted to look at. A little junk shop nearby with a lovely chess set in the window, a shop sporting brooms in its display case, a pet store that let off growls, howls, chirps, and hisses every few seconds.

"Migh' as well get yer robes first," Hagrid said, pointing to a nearby store, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Yeh mind if I pop off to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick me up? I hate those Gringotts carts."

Harry and I exchanged glances. We would have preferred to have Hagrid go with us on our first errand, but we could both tell that he still wasn't feeling exactly fresh. His skin was no longer green, but it was a lot greyer than normal, and his eyes were slightly glazed. Besides, we wouldn't exactly be alone, either.

"Go ahead," I approved, squaring my shoulders. Hagrid gave a grateful smile and hustled off towards the pub. I reached over for Harry's hand.

"It's just clothes shopping," I assured myself. "Should be boring, right?"

"Magical clothes," Harry pointed out. "They might… I dunno, try and strangle us or something."

I scowled at him. "Thank you Harry Potter. I was thinking more about getting stuck with pins, but now I'm worried about homicidal jumpers too."

"Sorry," Harry apologized as we stepped inside.

A squat, smiling witch dressed in mauve hustled up to us, presumably Madam Malkin. "Hogwarts, dears?" she guessed before we could say anything. "I've got the lot here… Another young man being fitted just now, in fact."

Standing in the back of the shop was a pale, pointy-faced boy, a second witch hemming up the robes he was dressed in. Madam Malkin ushered us towards two other footstools and helped us up. A blonde witch bustled out with two sets of black robes in her hands. Madam Malkin took one, unfolded it with a grand flip, and slid it over Harry's head. The blonde witch tugged another set over my head and set about pinning it up properly.