"Each person can only exchange seventy Galleons. But because of Professor Dumbledore, I can give you a quota of one hundred Galleons—five hundred and five pounds in total, including a five-pound handling fee."
"So little?" Tom frowned in dissatisfaction. "Professor Dumbledore just told me that you can usually exchange around two hundred Galleons."
"Because times have changed."
Goblins never had much patience for people who couldn't make them money, but Dumbledore's presence earned Tom a great deal more courtesy than usual.
"Muggle currency is of little use to us. Every year we exchange more pounds than we could ever spend, so Gringotts has to impose limits. Don't think it's too little—this is more than enough for you to get through a year at Hogwarts."
"Two hundred Galleons?" The goblin sneered. "That was the price fifty years ago. Do your Muggle pounds still hold that kind of value now?"
"Sorry, Tom."
Dumbledore looked embarrassed. "The last time I brought a student to Gringotts was over forty years ago. I really wasn't familiar with the current situation…"
Tom couldn't help rolling his eyes.
From forty years ago to now, British prices had skyrocketed—doubling and then doubling again. Looked at that way, the goblins were almost… conscientious?
"Professor," Tom seized the opportunity while Dumbledore was in the wrong, "could you lend me some money?"
He pushed his luck without hesitation.
"This probably won't be enough for me to buy additional books. I can pay in pounds, of course. Or, if you're patient, I can repay you in Galleons after I graduate—with interest."
Tom strongly preferred the second option. After all, by his sixth year, Old Dumbledore would be—well—gone. That would make it a risk-free deal.
"Muggle currency is indeed of little use to me. Then you can repay me after graduation—I'll look forward to that day."
Dumbledore had never been stingy when it came to helping students, even financially. And this misunderstanding had stemmed from his own misjudgment, so he agreed readily.
"Wait here for a moment. I'll fetch the money for you—and take care of a bit of personal business while I'm at it."
After leaving those instructions, Dumbledore followed a goblin down to the underground vaults.
Tom's heart skipped a beat as a sudden thought occurred to him.
Dumbledore's "personal business"… wouldn't it be retrieving the Philosopher's Stone?
He remembered that it had originally been Hagrid's job—but because of his own appearance, had things changed?
In the end, it didn't really concern him. After pondering the possibility briefly, Tom let it go and instead discussed with a goblin the feasibility of exchanging gold for Galleons.
The answer was yes—but once Tom calculated the purchasing power in pounds, he instantly felt like he'd been ripped off.
At the current exchange rate, five pounds could buy about 0.8 grams of gold. Yet it took ten grams of gold to exchange for one Galleon.
That worked out to roughly sixty pounds per Galleon—over twelve times the value.
They were called gold Galleons, but that didn't mean they were made of gold. It was goblin metal—who knew what went into it?
That horrifying exchange rate immediately killed the idea. His modest savings couldn't survive that kind of hemorrhage.
Better to earn money in the magical world and spend it in the magical world.
...
After waiting about half an hour, Dumbledore reappeared in the Gringotts lobby, holding a key and a pouch.
He handed both to Tom.
"There are one hundred Galleons here. I've also rented a vault for you—there are six hundred Galleons stored inside."
"One hundred Galleons per year," Dumbledore reminded him. "I hope you'll plan carefully how you use this money."
"Thank you, Professor. I'll be sure to make good use of your money."
Tom, meanwhile, marveled inwardly at Dumbledore's generosity.
Eight hundred Galleons—that was enough to live very comfortably all the way to graduation, provided he didn't buy luxury items like broomsticks or custom-made robes.
The old man blinked. That sentence sounded a bit odd, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why, so he changed the subject.
"Shall we go then, Mr. Riddle? We still have quite a few things to buy."
The two left Gringotts and began purchasing uniforms, textbooks, scales, cauldrons, and other supplies for the upcoming term. With Dumbledore accompanying him, the shopkeepers were all extremely polite and even offered discounts.
Even so, the round of purchases still cost over forty Galleons. Without discounts, it would have been more than fifty.
Add in the wand they were about to buy, and the fixed expenses would exceed sixty Galleons.
If Tom had followed Gringotts' standard exchange limit, he'd have only a few Galleons left—still enough to scrape by for a term, since food and lodging at Hogwarts were free, just a bit tight.
Ron's yearly allowance probably didn't even reach one Galleon. Compared to that, Tom was already a tycoon.
Tom had his eye on quite a few books earlier, each of them expensive. He planned to come back another time to buy them on his own.
With Dumbledore around, he felt constrained doing anything, afraid of being overinterpreted.
And he had no intention of stopping after spending the initial hundred Galleons—he would definitely be dipping into the vault as well.
"Why don't I have a system…"
Tom lamented his bad luck as he followed Dumbledore into the final stop of the day—the wand shop. Without a system, he could only work hard and grow stronger the old-fashioned way. No lying flat for him.
As he stepped inside, Tom instinctively held his breath, afraid the dust shaken loose by the opening door might get into his nose.
"What a rare guest, Albus," came a soft voice as an old man emerged from between the towering shelves.
"The last time you visited my shop was forty-eight years ago—also during a summer."
Dumbledore smiled helplessly. "Garrick, please stop showing off your remarkable memory. It only makes me unbearably envious."
"Hahaha. My memory is tied only to this shop and to wands."
Garrick Ollivander stepped forward and gave Dumbledore a hug, then slowly turned his gaze to Tom.
"And now—this fortunate young wizard. May I ask your name? To have Dumbledore himself as your guide is no small thing."
"Tom," Tom said. "Tom Riddle."
Thud—!
Ollivander collapsed onto the floor, staring blankly at the boy.