[56] Vaults and Vanity

"Too dangerous!" Hall couldn't help but gasp. No wonder those with powerful magic either lived in seclusion or craved power. If you couldn't conquer power, you'd be driven by it.

Hall was certain that his previous thought wasn't his true feeling. This feeling — completely contrary to his own will — was far too dangerous. And this was only level twenty. He couldn't imagine what higher levels would do.

He stretched out his palm. His twelve-year-old body was still far too weak. It seemed he couldn't level up too much at once next time.

Hall remembered a system setting: once the system used Galleons, they reverted to ordinary Galleons, usable only in the real world. His storage bag in the cabinet was already overflowing with spent Galleons. He needed to open a vault in Gringotts for storage.

His current storage bags were all ordinary — they compressed items without changing weight. His and Ron's cabinet was already somewhat deformed from the pressure. He needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy a better one, and while he was at it, buy the wand he'd promised Ron.

The next day, Hall and Ron, accompanied by George and Fred, headed to Diagon Alley via the fireplace. At the Burrow, they'd repeatedly assured Mum: "Don't worry, we'll take good care of little Ron and your versatile Hall."

"Yes, yes, we're good brothers."

Only then did Mum feel comfortable letting them go. As soon as they landed, George and Fred ran off.

"You two play by yourselves. We have something to do." Fred made a crawling motion on the ground. "Little Ron, don't tell Mum, or else..."

Ron frowned deeply. "They're so annoying."

"Let's go. Ignore them. We have a lot to do today." Hall smiled, pulling Ron along.

They stepped onto the cobblestone path. At the centre of Diagon Alley stood its oldest and tallest building — Gringotts.

The timing was awkward for the shops. "This is the first time I've seen Diagon Alley so quiet," Ron said, looking around. He'd last been here before the start of term, when it was packed. Hall had come during Christmas — busy but not ridiculous. Now the streets were quiet, only a few pedestrians strolling.

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Hall pulled out two silver Sickles and handed them to Ron. "Ron, go to Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop and order two. Wait for me — I'll be right back."

"How long?" Ron took the coins, his eyes lighting up.

"About half an hour."

"I'll check out the Quidditch shop first. Even though I touched your Nimbus 2000, I still want to see the other brooms."

They said goodbye. Hall looked around, saw no one nearby, and ducked into a side alley. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

Beneath the cloak, his figure began to lengthen. The cloak no longer covered his calves, stopping at roughly six feet. Hall removed the hood, revealing red hair and a handsome face — a completely adult face.

He was using Disguise Mage to create his adult self. He glanced at his reflection in a shop window. "So this is what I look like as an adult?" He smiled, pleased.

The surging magic that had been troubling him now flowed gently through his body. If not for various reasons, he would have wanted to stay in this body forever. He frowned — his clothes were very tight. The clothes didn't change with the transformation. He cast a Transfiguration Charm to make them fit.

The Trace was used by the Ministry of Magic to monitor underage wizards, detecting magical fluctuations based on location. But Hall was now an adult. The Trace, sensing his presence, naturally detached from his body. This body was no longer bound by the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

This was Hall's first test of his idea. If the Trace couldn't detach this way, he would have used Plan B — a method he didn't want to use. He didn't want to use Malfoy's resources yet, nor did he want Malfoy to know his true nature.

His guess was correct.

The adult Hall left the alley and entered Gringotts. The bank was a towering white building, its entrance facing Diagon Alley — white stone steps leading to two gleaming bronze doors. Wizards kept their wealth in vaults hundreds of miles underground. It was somewhat ironic that the only bank in the entire British wizarding world was managed by goblins — they held the economic lifeline.

Although they occasionally hired wizards as Curse-Breakers — for example, Hall's older brother, Bill Weasley. He'd taken such a job the year he graduated and was sent to Egypt, where he remained.

Hall passed through two doors and, under the watchful eyes of the guarding goblins, walked into a grand marble hall. Hundreds of goblins sat on high stools behind a long counter — some weighing coins on bronze scales, others examining gems with eyepieces, still others hastily making entries in large ledgers. The hall contained countless doors leading to different vaults.

"I want to open an account."

He walked to a counter where a goblin sat, busy with something. A name was written on its chest plaque: Goldfang. It had pointed ears, a short stature, greyish-yellow skin, black eyes, and a round head much larger than a human's.

Goldfang looked Hall up and down. "Please show me your identification."

Hall handed over a badge — the Slytherin family crest.

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