Hagrid finished speaking and strode forward through the archway, his massive frame leading the way.
Harry followed closely, his eyes wide with anticipation, while Dudley kept pace just behind him. Vernon and Petunia trailed reluctantly, their faces pale with unease.
As they passed through the archway, a winding cobblestone street stretched out before them, vibrant and teeming with life. Diagon Alley was unlike anything Dudley had ever seen, its shops brimming with magical wares that gleamed with an otherworldly allure.
"Wow!" Harry gasped, his gaze darting from one storefront to another, each sight filling him with fresh wonder. The street pulsed with novelty, every corner promising some new marvel.
A spark of intrigue lit Dudley's eyes as well. Fascinating, he thought. Many of these items radiate a spiritual aura, meaning most of the extraordinary objects here can be bought outright. In the strange world he'd glimpsed before, extraordinary items were tightly controlled, their acquisition costly and often impossible for ordinary individuals, especially powerful sealed artifacts. Yet here, in Diagon Alley, Dudley spotted treasures that would be priceless in that other realm, displayed openly for purchase.
Behind him, Vernon and Petunia's expressions were etched with terror. The alley's strangeness overwhelmed them—its shops, its people, everything exuded an alien quality that set their nerves on edge. The crowds bustling through the street wore robes and pointed hats, looking as though they'd stepped out of a medieval tapestry, only heightening the Dursleys' discomfort.
"Come on, we're off to Gringotts to get some money," Hagrid said to Harry, then glanced at Vernon. "You two, come along. You can exchange your Muggle pounds for wizarding Galleons there. Hope you brought enough cash."
Without waiting for Vernon's response, Hagrid marched down the cobblestone street, Harry hurrying to keep up.
"Let's go," Dudley urged his parents, quickening his pace to follow Hagrid.
As they walked, Dudley occasionally activated his spiritual vision, scanning the surroundings. Most of the people here were wizards, their robes and wands setting them apart, though a few Muggles stood out in their modern attire, even without his enhanced sight. Through his spiritual vision, Dudley could see energy radiating from the wizards' souls, varying in intensity. The strength of this energy seemed to hint at their magical prowess, though Dudley couldn't yet map it to the extraordinary sequences of that other world. I'll understand more once I start learning magic, he thought, his curiosity deepening.
Shops lined the street, offering dragon liver, magical tomes, and flying broomsticks—items Dudley had never encountered in that strange other world. Each discovery fueled his fascination. I'll buy some books later, he decided. They'll help me unravel the wizarding world faster.
"Here we are—Gringotts," Hagrid announced, stopping before a towering white building that gleamed in the sunlight, its grandeur imposing.
At the polished bronze entrance stood a small figure clad in a scarlet and gold uniform—a goblin, just as Hagrid had described.
Dudley's eyes flickered with interest. Activating his spiritual vision, he confirmed the goblins were extraordinary creatures, their souls pulsing with a unique magical energy.
Hagrid led the group inside, passing the goblin guard. Vernon and Petunia edged away, wary of the creature's sharp features and piercing gaze.
"As I said, anyone daft enough to rob Gringotts must be barking mad," Hagrid declared, gesturing to an inscription carved into the silver doors ahead.
Dudley glanced at the words, a poetic warning against theft, promising dire consequences for would-be robbers.
"You keep saying that," Dudley remarked, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Makes me think someone's about to try robbing the place."
Hagrid shot him a stern look. "Mind your tongue, lad. If a goblin overhears you, you'll land in hot water."
Dudley frowned, glancing around. No goblins seemed to be listening, their attention fixed elsewhere.
"Come on, I'll show you where to exchange your money for Galleons—wizarding gold coins," Hagrid said. "One Galleon's worth seventeen Silver Sickles, and twenty-nine Copper Knuts make a Sickle." He turned to Vernon. "Muggle money's pounds, right? Think it's about five pounds to a Galleon. You'll have to ask the goblins for the exact rate."
Vernon and Petunia exchanged a glance, their faces paling further. The prospect of dealing with goblins seemed worse than death itself.
Dudley's lips twitched in amusement. "This currency system's a mess," he muttered. "What kind of baboon came up with a non-decimal exchange like that?"
"What's that?" Hagrid asked, frowning at him.
"Nothing, forget it," Dudley said, shaking his head. The convoluted system was maddening, but he let it go.
Hagrid led Vernon and Petunia to a counter to exchange their pounds, then turned to Harry. Dudley, uninterested in the transaction, followed Hagrid and Harry, eager to see more of Gringotts' inner workings. If I'm to understand this place, I need to see how it operates, he thought, his mind already calculating possibilities, though robbing the bank was far from his intent.
Hagrid approached a goblin and explained that Harry needed to withdraw money from his vault. He also produced a sealed letter, stating he was to retrieve an item from Vault 713 on Hogwarts' behalf.
"What's in Vault 713?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Can't tell you, Harry. Top secret," Hagrid replied, his tone mysterious, a finger pressed to his lips.
Dudley's interest stirred, but he held his tongue, choosing not to press.
A goblin named Griphook stepped forward to guide them deeper into Gringotts. They passed through a grand door into a narrow stone corridor, lit by blazing torches. The passage sloped steeply downward, a small railway track running along its base.
Griphook whistled, and a rickety mine cart rattled up, halting before them.
"Get in," Griphook said, settling into the cart.
Harry climbed in first, followed by Dudley, then Hagrid, who squeezed his massive frame into the cramped space with some effort.
"Hold on tight," Griphook warned.
The cart lurched forward, hurtling along the tracks into the depths of Gringotts. Cold air whipped past Dudley's face, and he frowned, an uneasy sensation creeping over him. Since entering the bank, he'd felt a persistent sense of being watched, tinged with a faint undercurrent of malice and madness.