The two of them reached the end of Diagon Alley, where a white building that looked utterly out of place stood.
It was built entirely of white marble; its lines were simple and imposing, and it looked much cleaner than the buildings around it.
Hagrid pointed at the building and explained to Harry,
"Come on, Harry, your money's in there. Gringotts is the wizarding world's bank—there's nowhere safer, 'cept Hogwarts!"
They went up the white stone steps to the great bronze doors of Gringotts, and once inside, another set of doors appeared before them.
These doors were made of shining silver, and engraved upon them were the following words:
"Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there."
"Like I said, anyone'd have ter be mad ter try and rob this bank," Hagrid said. "They've got hundreds o' enchantments on the place. Even Dumbledore'd have ter be careful."
Beyond the doors, two goblins in scarlet uniforms bowed to them and led them into a high, marble hall.
Just then Hagrid noticed that Harry was taking the whole scene remarkably calmly, as if he'd seen it all before. That made him a little curious.
"Harry, aren' yeh curious at all? You've never seen goblins before, have yeh?"
Harry was still looking around, taking in the surroundings. When he heard Hagrid, he gave a little laugh.
"Yeah, I am curious. I'm just not showing it, that's all."
In truth, none of this surprised him in the slightest. The Sorcerer Supreme had once taken him to the "Reality Nexus" to trade with sorcerers from other dimensions.
The Reality Nexus was a special dimension: a crossroads from which paths led to every other dimension—even to dimensions within dimensions.
Because of that, sorcerers from countless dimensions had quietly agreed to use it as a trading ground; by now, it was one of the multiverse's most important markets.
Compared to that, little old Gringotts just didn't seem like much.
They came to an empty counter, and Hagrid addressed a goblin who wasn't busy:
"We're here ter take some money outta Harry Potter's vault."
"Do you have his key, sir?"
"'Course I do. Here y'are." Hagrid took out the key.
The goblin accepted it and peered at it through a magnifying glass.
"Seems in order."
Just as he was about to lead Harry and Hagrid to the vaults, Hagrid solemnly took out a letter.
"I've also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore. He told me it's about 'that thing' in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
From Hagrid's grave expression, Harry judged that "that thing" must be extremely important, perhaps some kind of rare treasure.
But Harry wasn't interested in it at all. He had handled legendary relics like the Time Stone and didn't believe "that thing" could be more precious than a Time Stone.
The goblin took the letter and examined it carefully. Once he had confirmed it, he nodded.
"Very well. Please wait a moment. Someone will take you down shortly… Griphook!"
A goblin named Griphook came over to them and gave a slight bow.
"Come along, then. This way, gentlemen."
Griphook led them deeper into Gringotts. When he pushed open a door, there was a narrow stone passageway beyond.
The three of them climbed into a small cart in the middle of the passage and sped off along twisting, maze-like tracks. The underground wind was fierce, but for Harry, who could strengthen his body with magic, the chill actually felt just right.
Soon, with a screech of grinding metal, the cart squealed to a halt in front of a small iron door.
In his high, piping voice, Griphook said,
"Vault six hundred and eighty-seven. This way, please."
He took the key from Hagrid, and when he unlocked the vault, a flood of golden light spilled over Harry's face. Even he was stunned by the heaps of gold coins, silver bars, and bronze coins piled up inside.
Even though Harry had no idea what any of it was worth in the wizarding world, he could tell this was an enormous inheritance.
Hagrid looked down at Harry, trying his best to sound gentle.
"H-Harry, surprised, are yeh? Yeh didn't think yer mum and dad left yeh with nothing, did yeh?
Look—those gold ones're Galleons, the silver ones're Sickles, and the bronze ones're Knuts.
You're richer now than some wizarding families that've fallen on hard times!
Go on, take out a bit. That should be enough for two terms. Leave the rest here—Gringotts'll look after it for yeh.
Right, we'd better get to vault seven hundred and thirteen. And Griphook, could yeh go a bit slower? The wind in the tunnels is a bit much."
"Apologies. The carts only have one speed." Griphook spread his hands and gave a formulaic, polite smile.
They climbed back into the cart and hurtled off toward vault seven hundred and thirteen. Harry sat in silence.
His mum and dad had left him a fortune, and his friends genuinely cared about him. None of that was anything he'd ever known in this world—certainly not with the Dursleys.
From what Hagrid had told him, his parents had been wonderful people—his mother especially: gentle and kind, beautiful and brilliant, and someone who had loved him dearly.
If they hadn't been murdered by a Dark wizard, he might have had a happy childhood, and a life filled with warmth from the very beginning.
But all of that had been destroyed by that damned Dark wizard!
A faint, almost imperceptible scarlet glimmer flickered in Harry's eyes, the sign of his magic growing restless.
"Hagrid, who killed my parents?"
At the question, Hagrid gave a little shudder; even his beard seemed to tremble. He was clearly terrified of the name.
"It was You-Know-Who who killed 'em…"
"You-Know-Who?" Harry was puzzled. That didn't sound like a name at all.
Hagrid shook his head and warned him very gravely,
"Harry, in the wizarding world, people say his name is cursed. If yeh talk about him by name, he can sense it. That's why nobody wants ter say it—we all use You-Know-Who instead.
Unless there's absolutely no other choice, even if yeh know his real name, don't go sayin' it."
Harry thought about it. A curse tied to a name… He was pretty sure the Book of the Vishanti recorded plenty of spells to break that sort of magic.
Feeling how truly afraid Hagrid was of You-Know-Who, Harry didn't ask anything more about him.
Since everyone in the wizarding world knew about You-Know-Who, there had to be plenty of information written about him. He could investigate on his own later.
Harry clenched his fists. He was going to kill You-Know-Who one day—even if that man's power surpassed that of the Sorcerer Supreme!
He paused, forcing his roiling emotions to settle, and then asked again,
"Hagrid, what were my parents like?"