With a final, meaningful glance at the mundane world behind them, Hagrid stepped through the archway. Harry followed closely, his eyes wide with disbelief, and Dudley brought up the rear, his expression one of calm, analytical curiosity.
The world they entered was a riot of sound and color. A winding, seemingly endless cobblestone street stretched out before them, flanked by the most fantastical shops Dudley had ever imagined. Cauldrons were stacked in gleaming pyramids outside one shop, while another displayed shimmering robes in every color of the rainbow. The air was thick with the scent of strange herbs, old parchment, and something sweet that might have been candy or a potion ingredient.
"Wow," Harry breathed, his head swiveling in every direction, trying to take it all in at once. Everything was new, everything was magical, and a profound, bone-deep sense of belonging washed over him.
Dudley, too, was intrigued, but his interest was of a different sort. Interesting. Many of these items possess a distinct spiritual aura. That means most of the extraordinary items here can be bought directly. In the world of Beyonders, such artifacts were strictly controlled, their cost exorbitant. To see them displayed so openly in shop windows was a staggering revelation.
Behind them, Vernon and Petunia looked as if they had stumbled into a nightmare. Everything was alien, exuding a strangeness that set their teeth on edge. The crowds, dressed in outlandish robes and pointed hats, only deepened their terror.
"Come on," Hagrid boomed, pulling them back to reality. "We need to get to Gringotts for money." He turned to Vernon. "You two come as well. You can exchange your Muggle money for wizarding Galleons there. Hope you brought enough cash." Without waiting for a reply, he led Harry into the throng.
"Let's go," Dudley said to his parents, and they scurried after him, sticking close.
As they walked, Dudley occasionally activated his Spirit Vision. Most of the people here were wizards, their souls emanating varying degrees of power, but he also spotted a few Muggles, their auras dull in comparison. He cataloged the shops they passed—an apothecary selling glistening dragon liver, a bookshop with towering stacks of ancient tomes, and a shop window filled with sleek, polished flying broomsticks.
I'll need to buy some books, Dudley decided. It's the quickest way to understand the rules of this world.
Soon, Hagrid led them to a tall, snow-white marble building that towered over the other shops. At its gleaming bronze entrance stood a small, stern-looking figure in a scarlet and gold uniform.
"A goblin," Dudley noted, his eyes flickering with interest. He activated his Spirit Vision and confirmed his suspicion: these creatures were Beyonders in their own right.
Hagrid led them up the steps. As they passed the goblin guard, Vernon and Petunia gave the creature a wide berth, their fear palpable.
"Like I said," Hagrid remarked, pointing to the silver words engraved on the doors, "you'd have to be mad to try and rob this place." The inscription was a poetic warning to any would-be thieves.
"When you keep insisting it's perfectly safe," Dudley observed dryly, "it makes one feel as though a robbery is imminent. It's a common narrative trope."
Hagrid glared at him. "Watch your tongue. You'll be in deep trouble if a goblin hears you talkin' like that."
Inside, a vast marble hall stretched before them. Long counters were staffed by dozens of goblins, weighing coins on brass scales and scribbling in large ledgers.
"Right," Hagrid said, leading them toward a free counter. "I'll take you to exchange your Galleons. One Galleon is seventeen silver Sickles, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle." He then looked at Vernon. "Muggle money is pounds, right? I think it's about five pounds to a Galleon. You can ask the goblin."
Vernon and Petunia exchanged a look of pure horror at the thought of having to speak to one of the creatures.
Dudley's mouth twitched. "Such a convoluted, non-decimal system," he couldn't help but say. "Are you certain it wasn't designed by a baboon to deliberately confuse outsiders?"
"What was that?" Hagrid frowned.
"Nothing important," Dudley shook his head.
After pointing his parents toward the currency exchange, Hagrid led Harry away. Dudley quickly followed, leaving his parents to their dreadful task. He was curious to see how the bank truly operated.
Hagrid approached a goblin teller, explaining that he needed to access Harry's vault. He also produced a grimy-looking letter, stating he had official Hogwarts business in Vault 713.
"What's in Vault 713?" Harry asked.
"Can't tell you," Hagrid said mysteriously. "Top secret."
A moment later, a goblin named Griphook was leading them through a door behind the counter and into a narrow stone corridor lit by flaming torches. A railway track sloped steeply down into the darkness. Griphook gave a sharp whistle, and a small mine cart came hurtling up the track, stopping before them.
"Get in."
Harry climbed in, followed by Dudley. Hagrid squeezed himself in with considerable effort.
"Hold on tight," Griphook warned. With a lurch, the cart shot off, plunging them down into the depths of the earth.
A cold wind whistled past Dudley's ears. As they descended deeper into the subterranean tunnels, he felt a familiar, prickling sensation on the back of his neck. It was the feeling of being watched. And beneath it, he could vaguely sense a faint, yet unmistakable, trace of evil and madness.
What could it be? he wondered, his senses on high alert.
***
(End of Chapter)
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