Chapter 11: Diagon Alley

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The bricks in the wall began to move.

At first, a single brick merely drew back a little. Then, as though driven by some invisible force, the surrounding bricks began to retreat and turn over one after another.

With a series of soft clicks, a crack gradually appeared in the center of the brick wall. It quickly widened, eventually becoming a grand arched gateway.

Beyond the gateway lay an extraordinarily bustling street.

“This is Diagon Alley.”

Harry and Hermione held their breath at the same moment. They stepped forward through the archway, and their eyes were instantly captivated by the sight before them.

The street was packed with all kinds of shops, each with its own distinctive character. Some windows were crowded with brightly colored potion bottles, the liquids inside glowing with strange radiance. Others displayed pots of every size and kind—copper, tin, and even a gleaming golden pot whose price was terrifyingly high. Outside another shop stood several flying broomsticks, their labels listing their models and functions, while a group of young wizards gathered around them, excitedly discussing their merits.

“Oh my goodness!” Hermione drew in a sharp breath. It was as though she had stepped into one of the wondrous worlds described in her books. Her eyes shone as she looked in every direction. “This is Diagon Alley! It’s simply… incredible!”

“Incredible” seemed wholly inadequate to describe what Harry was feeling.

His gaze followed the crowds in the street. He saw people dressed in robes, carrying wands, chatting in groups of three or five or hurrying from shop to shop. He saw a little boy pointing excitedly at a color-changing frog in a pet-shop window, and an elderly woman waving her wand to guide her shopping bags as they floated through the air close behind her.

At the far end of the street, he could just make out a tall and imposing white building. Its spires seemed to reach straight into the heavens, glittering brilliantly in the light. Harry did not even need to ask. He knew at once that it must be Gringotts—the wizarding bank Professor Morris had mentioned.

“This… this is amazing,” Harry murmured, utterly spellbound by the scene before him.

“This is only the beginning.” Professor Morris’s voice came from behind them. He stepped forward and gazed calmly down the street. To him, all of this was long familiar. “You’ll complete all the preparations required for enrollment here. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, stay close to me later. Do not wander off.”

Hermione nodded vigorously, unable to restrain herself from asking, “Professor, can we go to that bookshop? The sign says Flourish and Blotts! I haven’t bought my textbooks yet!”

“Of course.” Morris smiled faintly. “But before that, we need to go to Gringotts to withdraw some money.”

“Withdraw money?” Harry suddenly came back to himself and turned toward the magnificent white building in the distance. “But… do I have money here?”

“Of course you do.” Morris nodded. “Your parents left you a fortune at Gringotts, enough to see you through your education. Believe me, you’ll be surprised.”

“What about me?” Hermione asked somewhat nervously. “My parents are Muggles. They… we can’t use Muggle money here, can we?”

“Your situation is different from Harry’s, but there’s no need to worry.” Morris patiently explained, “There is an economic exchange system between the wizarding and Muggle worlds. The money your parents gave you can be exchanged for the gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts used in the wizarding world.”

“Gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts?” Hermione repeated softly, trying to memorize the unfamiliar terms.

“Come along.” Morris raised a hand, signaling for them to follow. “I’ll explain everything in greater detail once we arrive.”

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When the three of them finally stood before the tall white marble steps of Gringotts, Harry could not help stopping to stare up at the magnificent building.

The wizarding bank rose high above them, solemn and imposing. Intricate, ancient designs were carved into the enormous bronze doors at its entrance.

“Good heavens…” Hermione whispered, her voice full of awe. “I read a description of Gringotts in a book just now, but I never imagined it would be so… spectacular.”

“Spectacular, is it?” Morris’s tone was somewhat cold. “Everyone in the wizarding world bears responsibility for the fact that it has reached this state.”

“Responsibility?” Harry immediately caught the unusual choice of word.

“That’s right. Responsibility.” Morris nodded, his voice carrying a faint note of sarcasm. “The wealth in every person’s purse in the wizarding world is taken away by invisible means, one Galleon at a time, and piled into this ‘spectacular’ bank. That is what has made it the way it is today.”

“The goblins of Gringotts manage this wealth. They may not know where it comes from, but they know where it ultimately flows. That is why the vaults are buried deep beneath the earth and guarded by creatures of legend. All the wealth of the wizarding world circulates through this place, and anyone who tries to steal even a single Knut from Gringotts will pay a terrible price.”

Harry was left speechless.

Instinctively, he touched his pocket. There was nothing especially valuable inside, yet he suddenly felt that he ought to be a little more careful.

“So… Professor, you mean that this wealth does not truly belong to the owners of the vaults?” Hermione asked cautiously, as though she were uncertain whether she had correctly understood the metaphor Professor Morris had just used.

“That is an excellent question, Miss Granger.” Morris glanced at her in surprise. Then the familiar smile returned to his face. “The answer is that it belongs to them ‘temporarily’—until they lose control of it.”

“Lose control?” Hermione repeated in confusion. “You mean… wizards may lose their own wealth?”

“In a sense, yes.” Morris nodded, his tone remaining calm. “Ownership of wealth is not as simple as it appears. Even a bank like Gringotts is not entirely under the goblins’ free control. They must serve the rules established by wizards. They must submit to the needs of the wizarding world. Otherwise… you can imagine what would happen.”

Hermione frowned, trying to find more clues in Professor Morris’s words. “But Professor, the books I’ve read say that the goblins are the masters of Gringotts. They are skilled in magical metalwork, and that is what made Gringotts the safest place in the wizarding world. The books never mention them being controlled or treated unequally.”

When Morris heard this, he gave a soft sigh and turned to look at Hermione. A trace of approval flickered through his eyes, but his tone soon became composed once more.

“What the books say is not wrong. The goblins are indeed the ‘masters’ here. Their wisdom and craftsmanship have made Gringotts the financial center of the wizarding world. But have you ever wondered why goblins are willing to manage the wealth of wizards while possessing so little genuine power and freedom of their own?”

Hermione froze, unable to answer for a moment.

Morris’s tone sharpened. “The wizarding world appears, on the surface, to be a stable and secure system. But that stability is built upon inequality among certain races and classes. Goblins, house-elves, and even some wizards contribute far more than the power they are granted. The ‘splendor’ of Gringotts is precisely a reflection of that inequality. It appears unshakably solid, yet conceals countless hidden dangers.”

“But…” Hermione struggled to organize her thoughts, seemingly unwilling to accept the idea so readily. “Professor, goblins themselves dislike wizards, and they have never actively sought greater power. Perhaps their present situation is their own choice?”

Morris shook his head, a colder look entering his eyes. “Choice? Miss Granger, choice is born of freedom. When the conditions under which a race or class survives are restricted by rules, the so-called ‘choice’ is no longer freedom. It is an arrangement they have no choice but to accept.”

“We can learn the rules from books, but we cannot draw conclusions based solely on what books contain.”

A solemn note: This book is no different. All the views expressed here belong only to Morris, the protagonist, at this particular point in the story. Some may be conservative, others extreme, but his views will change as one event after another unfolds. That process is part of experiencing his life alongside him. Do not read more into it than that, and do not treat it as a reflection of the author’s own beliefs. All opinions and events belong solely to the fictional world created by J. K. Rowling.

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A note: You will understand later that Morris is clearly standing outside Gringotts and deliberately saying all this for the goblins to hear. This book contains many foreshadowed details. This is the only reminder I will give!!!!

“This world contains far too many complicated truths. You will come to understand them gradually. History has never been simply black and white, and those so-called ‘facts’ are often merely the version that those in power want us to believe.”

Harry listened in bewilderment from the side, yet he keenly sensed that the meaning behind Professor Morris’s words extended far beyond the discussion at hand. Unable to restrain himself, he asked, “Professor, do you mean… wizards force goblins to work for them?”

The corners of Morris’s mouth lifted slightly, revealing a cool smile. “The word ‘force’ is rather too blunt. But, Mr. Potter, many things in the wizarding world are not as simple as they appear. We imagine that wizards and goblins have reached an equal partnership. In truth, this ‘partnership’ is a subtler game of power.”

Harry frowned, only half understanding. “Then why can’t wizards and goblins live together as equals?”

“Wizards cannot even treat other wizards as equals, Mr. Potter.” Morris spoke slowly. “The relationships between wizards and goblins, house-elves, and even other sentient beings reflect the very nature of power: control, domination, and concealment. Everything we are educated to accept is nothing more than a tool for maintaining that system.”

Hermione sank completely into thought, while Harry felt as though his mind had become tangled in a knot. He had never encountered ideas like these before, nor had he ever imagined that the magical world could contain such complicated problems.

He asked quietly, “Professor, then… is there anything we can do?”

Morris turned to look at Harry. The smile at the corners of his mouth was complex and inscrutable.

“Mr. Potter, the crux of the matter is not whether you can do something, but whether you are willing to see the truth.”

“But these are not matters you need to worry about today.”

“Your task is to understand this world, and then find your own place within it—whether you choose to accept it or change it. If one day you are willing to act for the sake of these truths, that will be your choice.”

When he finished speaking, Morris said no more. He turned away, straightened his cuff, and continued toward the doors of Gringotts.

The goblin guards at the entrance stood as straight as ever, their cold eyes sweeping over everyone who passed.

Yet the instant one of the goblins’ gazes fell upon Morris’s face, his sharp little eyes widened abruptly, as though he had seen something utterly unbelievable.

Just as Morris passed him, the goblin reacted.

He lowered his head, an expression of conflicting emotions crossing his face, and slowly slipped a hand into his pocket. After fumbling around for a moment, he quickly drew out a small metal device.

Click.

The goblin pressed one of the buttons on it.

The sound was so faint that almost no one noticed.

Morris’s steps faltered ever so slightly. He did not turn around. As though he had sensed nothing at all, he continued walking through the doors.

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