The cart raced downwards. Wind whistled past my ears, walls illuminated by magical torches flashed by, and the rare vault doors flew past. I watched the numbers engraved on the massive doors as we descended deeper and deeper.
The first vault — number 592. The lower the number, the deeper it was, hence older and better protected.
I turned over in my mind the information I had once read in books on the magical world's economy. There were about three thousand vaults in Gringotts, and the number was growing. Such a laughably small number existed because maintaining a vault cost money, and not everyone could afford it, nor was there any point. But for the old and noble houses, whose vaults were among the first hundred when the bank was founded, special conditions existed — they were exempt from annual maintenance fees. And, more importantly, the goblins had no way to access these treasures without brute force — and the protection there was such that even an army of Aurors, firing enhanced Bombardas all day, wouldn't succeed. But this applied to the very old private vaults or the family vaults. Alas, I was limited to a partial inheritance.
For other vaults — with numbers from one hundred and above — the rules were different. Goblins couldn't enter the vault itself, but they had a cunning way of collecting fees. Not to mention that the bank took a percentage on all external transactions. And the more you withdrew, the more you lost.
I smirked. An ingenious system, and probably the only one goblins could devise to circumvent the oaths given to ancient houses. The principle worked like Gringotts' own spatial pouches — you could take gold from your vault, but you couldn't put it back. That's how they collected their fees. Similarly, there were limits on weight, amount, and frequency of withdrawals. And pouches with access to your own vault could only be bound inside the vault itself, and if you changed the restriction charms, the binding had to be redone. Everything was thought out to the smallest detail, because it wasn't made by idiots, and idiots don't store millions here. No matter how many restrictions the goblins had, without such a clever system, anything could happen.
It was a pity that such pouches were only provided to adult wizards. And not for all types of vaults — for family and children's vaults, for example, it was impossible. Children's — due to the accumulation system and a bunch of restrictions. Family vaults — because it was impossible to bind such an artifact. After all, the security of valuables was more important than convenience. And you could only withdraw money from the pouch, but the main value of vaults was that they were like large bank safe deposit boxes. Unlike children's and special vaults, in all other types, you could store anything. Often, money was kept there only to pay for the service fees. And from the pouch, you could only withdraw money.
I sighed. If I had obtained the headship of the house through delaying Sirius's trial, I would now be considered an adult wizard. A Lord… but it's alright, the main thing is that everything is still ahead!
The cart slowed, and we stopped before a massive door. Vault number 592. I glanced at the goblin, who was already extending his hand, waiting for the key.
"No need, I can manage myself," I said, taking out the key.
Blitzok grimaced and stepped back, watching with a magical lantern in his hands. I inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicked, and the door slowly, with a grating sound, began to open. The key, of course, was unusual, as was the mechanism itself, which was magical. It couldn't be opened with a spell.
"When did this vault become a Black vault?" I asked without turning around.
"The House of Black opened the vault and named it the 'Silver Reserve' in 1932," the goblin replied, looking at the journal with records in his gnarled hands. "At present, it contains one hundred and forty-one thousand three hundred and twenty-one Galleons, two thousand two hundred and eighty-nine Sickles, and seventy-two Knuts."
I nodded and stepped inside.
The magical lights lit up on their own as the door fully opened, flooding the space with light. To be honest, I had expected a larger sum. But even what was there would be enough for an ordinary wizard to live comfortably, and for his children too. Inside, I saw a clearly empty space; apparently, there had been more money here. Stacks of coins still towered above the rest of the vault's wealth, but the condition of the floor clearly showed that there had been many more such stacks.
Besides the one hundred and forty-one thousand plus Galleons, neatly stacked almost to the ceiling, creating a mountain of gold, there was also something else.
I walked along the walls, examining the shelves and racks. Precious stones — rubies, sapphires, emeralds — were laid out on velvet cushions, each with a tag indicating weight and origin. They were all huge for precious stones. There was also antique jewelry — brooches, rings, necklaces, resting in ebony boxes. All were enchanted, so I needed to have them appraised to understand the functionality and purpose of these artifacts. There were even some contraptions whose purpose I didn't understand — they occupied a separate shelf, clearly intended for some branch of magic. And there were also several living portraits, preserved by charms. They hung on the far wall, the figures within frozen as if in an ordinary portrait.
I wandered through the vault, examining each item, estimating in my mind how much it might be worth, what could be sold, what could be kept, and what could be used. Time passed, but I wasn't in a hurry. I took extra, just in case.
When I finally emerged, Blitzok was still standing by the door. He clearly expected me to rush to empty everything before it was too late, but let him not rejoice too soon. That moment would come soon enough.
"Why is there so little gold?" I asked. "Considering the vault's name and size… list the last transactions of the 'Silver Reserve' vault."
"Of the recent transactions," the goblin began to answer, "there were only maintenance deductions. The vault belongs to the House of Black, so the annual fee is only a quarter of the half-percent for amounts from one hundred thousand to one million Galleons. Except that, before her death, your grandmother — Lady Walburga Black — withdrew two hundred and fifty-one thousand two hundred and forty-six Galleons."
I whistled inwardly. Now it was clear why the vault looked so empty.
"Half a percent for maintenance?" I asked. "Still quite a lot."
"For vaults with such a balance — it's the standard rate," Blitzok replied, his voice no longer so grating. "However, if the balance falls below one hundred thousand Galleons, the percentage doubles, and if the balance falls below ten thousand Galleons, the commission on operations will be higher, and the maintenance fee will become fixed — one hundred Galleons per year."
I thought for a moment.
If I take most of the gold, I'll need to remember to leave more than ten thousand, so the commission on operations doesn't skyrocket. However, the maintenance fee, considering the discount apparently available to many ancient and noble houses, is extremely lenient.
"I see," I said. "Let's move on."
We descended further, to the second vault. The lower we went, the more monumental and larger the vault doors became. We passed even a couple of dozen vaults for a good minute, as we were getting closer to the first five hundred, so the distance from one vault to another only increased.
"Vault number 557, opened in 1888," Blitzok read the information in his journal, when the cart finally stopped before another massive door.
"No name?"
"No. Also, this vault has a special status," Blitzok explained, and for the first time, something like resignation sounded in his voice. "It is attached to an overseas account at the Zurich Magical Bank."
I was also surprised and understood his emotion. The Zurich Magical Bank is the largest financial institution in Europe, if not the world. Older than Gringotts, more reliable, and with a reputation that made even goblins smoke on the sidelines.
"And how much is in there?" I asked, turning the key.
"Six hundred and seventy-eight thousand Galleons," Blitzok replied.
Six hundred and seventy-eight thousand. That was a serious sum.
"But," the goblin continued, a warning note in his voice, "the conditions for withdrawing money from this vault are special."
"What conditions?" I asked, stopping on the threshold as the massive door, several meters in diameter, opened with a click.
The vault inside was also larger than the previous one — dozens of shelves filled with bags and stacks of gold Galleons. No jewelry, no artifacts, only coins.
"Since this vault is attached to an overseas account," Blitzok repeated, as if I might have forgotten, "annual deductions of fifty thousand Galleons are made from it to the German Fund for the Study of Dark Curses."
"Fifty thousand?" I turned to him. "Annually?"
The goblin, grunting, began to explain. It was clear that he himself didn't like the idea of money leaving, since goblins had their own philosophy regarding everything they produced. In their minds, all these coins they created were merely lent to wizards, and everything actually belonged to them. Of course, this was related to the specifics of their mentality, but they were oh so reluctant to help withdraw funds from Gringotts.
"One of the founders of this fund is the House of Black," the solicitor added, as if reading my thoughts. "The deductions cannot be limited or canceled with only partial inheritance rights."
I gritted my teeth. Unpleasant.
Fifty thousand a year. That's almost one-thirteenth of all the gold in this vault. And considering how long the vault has existed… I dread to think how much money has already gone to this fund.
"And Gringotts can't influence this process?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"No," Blitzok replied, displeased with the situation. "The vault is attached to a Swiss account. Gringotts merely executes the instructions. It is stipulated in the contract signed at the time of opening."
I walked through the vault. There weren't just stacks of coins here — there were mountains! Mountains of Galleons.
Six hundred and seventy-eight thousand. Fifty thousand a year goes to the fund. That means if I don't replenish the vault, it will be almost empty in about thirteen years. But…
"What about replenishment?" I asked. "Can I deposit money here or withdraw from here?"
"You can," Blitzok replied with a grin on his face, "but with partial inheritance rights — no more than the amount that goes to the fund per year. We will monitor this."
"I see," I nodded.
I surveyed the vault once more, memorizing every detail.
"Who manages the fund now?" I asked.
"That information is unknown to me," Blitzok replied. "I can only say that the House of Black had a great interest in it and possessed equally great authority. After the death of Lady Walburga Black, no one touched anything."
I nodded.
Another reason to get the headship of the house as soon as possible. Since such deductions go to the fund, it must be something important. When I receive the Lordship, I'll have to go to Germany and find out what so much gold is being spent on annually.
"Well," I said, leaving the vault. "To the last vault, Solicitor."
The last vault was located very deep. The cart rushed downward, and I felt the air pressure change, even the magic around became denser. It's funny that the lower you go, the more prestigious it is. Vaults with numbers from 100 to 500 were considered elite; their maintenance was more expensive, but the commissions on operations were cheap, and if one became available, it was immediately bought.
Even impoverished houses, barely making ends meet, tried to keep their vaults — paying commission for empty space, but preserving the number. Not to mention the first hundred. Considering that the owners of those vaults didn't pay for maintenance, and they were mostly ancient and noble houses storing six-figure, or rather seven-figure sums without paying for it, I think such a vault would not be sold even for fabulous money.
When the cart stopped, I got out and froze. I had thought that the further you go, the more massive the doors, but, of course, it didn't always work that way. Many didn't need large vaults in their time. So it was quite possible to have new vaults opened in modern times that were huge, with large metal doors. And this one, seemingly old… well, it turns out that doors aren't always metal either.
The door was entirely stone, adorned with the Black family crest. I don't understand how it works, but it looks interesting. Even the keyhole in the stone was a functioning keyhole; after the third turn of the key, the mechanism activated. A short series of rumbling and unusual magical sounds began, as if a hundred wizards had just woven a Protego.
"Vault 'Dark Chest.' Opened in 1788."
The stone door, or rather the stone entrance, opened after a good minute, sliding sideways as if there was a niche, and fitting so perfectly that the rock seemed entirely solid and homogeneous, as if the stone door had never existed. A surprisingly interesting system, since the vault doors before and after were generally metal.
But what was even more surprising was the vault itself, which was larger than the previous two combined. The space stretched upwards into darkness; there were no lights or torches here.
Only darkness… I waited a second and, realizing there would definitely be no light, conjured a beam of static light, then cast diagnostic charms. A completely empty, smooth stone chamber with perfect angles, literally carved into the rock. And as it turned out, the vault's name was extremely "creative"…
At the far end of the room, right against the wall, stood a chest. Just a huge, black chest without any patterns — only a lock styled like a charred skull with empty eye sockets that seemed to watch those who entered.
I walked around the chest in a semicircle, checking it with charms. I had sensed dark magic from the beginning, and the diagnostics confirmed that it was better not to approach the chest, let alone touch it.
"So I take it there's no gold here?" I asked as I walked out.
"Not a single Galleon," Blitzok confirmed, standing outside. "The vault's maintenance is paid for by the 'Silver Reserve'."
I nodded. A useless place for now, as attempts to open the chest with magic were unsuccessful. I need to employ goblins or hire a curse-breaker. I have a feeling there's something really important there, and I'm terribly curious.
"Is that all, Mr. Malfoy?" the goblin rasped. "Are you finished?"
"Mr. Black-Malfoy, Solicitor Blitzok. Black-Malfoy. And no, I'm just getting started. I need to withdraw some gold from the first vault. More precisely, we're about to open two anonymous accounts."
The goblin, trying to hide the contortion of his face, nodded.
"As you wish, Mr… Black… Malfoy."
We got into the cart. It began to race upwards, and I thought about how much more bureaucracy and business lay ahead.
We went back up, and I signed all the necessary papers, creating two anonymous accounts, from which anyone could withdraw money anytime, anywhere, and at any branch — as long as they knew the code, password, and account number.
On the first account, I deposited ten thousand Galleons; on the second, I deposited fifty thousand Galleons. This way, I secured myself, because no matter what happened in life, the second account guaranteed me absolute financial security. Even if nothing works out for me in life, even if I'm thrown into Azkaban and I escape, I'll be able to hide in some European country with an altered appearance, access the money, and live comfortably. As for escaping — it was high time I finally performed the Animagus transformation ritual… long overdue, but these six months will be ideal to carry out this tedious and lengthy ritual.
True, to deposit such amounts into the account, I had to go back down and open the vault for the goblins. I also took another ten thousand Galleons with me, fortunately having the foresight to bring a pouch with an expanded space, a Yule gift. In the vault, just over seventy-one thousand Galleons remained, which I also planned to take for my future actions. Until I obtained the headship of the house, this was the money I was ready to spend for the future. I planned to leave only twenty thousand Galleons here — enough to maintain the vaults for many years to come, while also not letting the balance fall below ten thousand Galleons to avoid higher commissions and a fixed maintenance fee, which was disadvantageous considering the reduced maintenance cost for my family's vaults.
And I also didn't forget to take all the magical jewelry and have it appraised by the goblins. By evening, I could return with a couple of bags with enchanted expanded space, collect the money, and find out what those magical artifacts were.
Of course, these were dummy vaults — or rather, vaults for business, for which there was no desire to visit the family vault. Created to cover commissions for operations, maintenance, and fund deductions. The actual liquid funds of families like the Malfoys, Blacks, Rosiers, and Greengrasses were in the tens of millions of Galleons, and that was about ten percent of everything. Their capital, including holdings, real estate, collections, artifacts, shares, businesses, and so on, reached sums that would be enough to displace the top 10 Forbes billionaires in Britain. But money loves silence, so even the Muggle aristocrats didn't make it into the British Forbes top lists — those who supposedly lost significantly in wealth but ruled Britain in the House of Lords, and whose ancestors had accumulated such fortunes in their cellars that it was better not to report them and not to pay taxes. But even so, they possessed billions, and if you took their trust funds, they were in the same league as us and the Forbes billionaires, sometimes even surpassing them. Our ancestors were exactly the same — once aristocrats in the Muggle world, now only in the magical one, but they still earned in the ordinary world as well.
And now, at last, I could go to my friends. More precisely — first to Amanda, whom I had called an hour earlier than the others. I needed to talk to her about that kiss. We hadn't discussed that awkward moment since, and soon we would be betrothed. I had an idea of how to secure my position regarding the Malfoy inheritance. Lord Rosier clearly expected Amanda to marry the future Lord Malfoy, i.e., me, if I played my cards right.
I stepped out of Gringotts, where my security was already waiting, and headed to the establishment. Now everything was perfect. I was pleased with everything, and I would yet show what it meant to underestimate me. I didn't care that my father was thinking of choosing Draco as his heir — I would secure my place. I didn't even care that I couldn't choose who I would marry in the future. For now, given the problems with the Milfoils, Celine seemed to be out of the picture. Now the rules of the game had changed, but a betrothal is not exactly a trivial matter, however, considering what will happen in the future, I don't think it will be a problem if I were to change my attitude towards Amanda to hatred. But that's unlikely; she suits me as a future wife… almost suits me.