Chapter 509

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

"Is this really legit? There aren't conditions, are there? Like… it has to stay in Gringotts forever, can't be withdrawn, or—Merlin forbid—you need a contract to sign?"

Roman clutched the space extension bag tightly to his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric as if the bag itself might slip away. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the goblin in front of him, his disbelief palpable.

At this point, he was practically spitting in the goblin's face.

It wasn't that he didn't want to believe it. But it was just too absurd.

For the first time in his life, Roman was hearing that you could deposit money in Gringotts and actually make money back. Interest. On Galleons. It was almost laughable.

For centuries—millennia—Gringotts had charged storage fees for holding wizards' wealth. The more you stored, the higher the fees. That was how the goblins made their fortune. Everyone knew that. It was common knowledge.

So what's the catch? Roman thought, his mind spinning.

The very idea that goblins—greedy, cunning goblins—would hand out interest like some kind of charitable organization was ludicrous. It was like tossing a steak in front of a starving Fluffy and expecting it not to bite.

The goblin, however, maintained an eerily calm demeanor. His sharp teeth peeked through a polite smile, and his eyes gleamed with what Roman hoped wasn't amusement.

"This is true," the goblin replied smoothly. "It is a policy jointly established by Kamar-Taj, the Ministry of Magic, and Gringotts."

Roman snorted. Yeah, sure.

"But," the goblin continued, as if anticipating Roman's skepticism, "as you mentioned, there are indeed some conditions you should be aware of."

Roman's eyes narrowed further. Aha. There it is.

Pie from the sky? Please. Everyone knew that kind of pie was usually made of solid iron—the kind that knocked you unconscious.

But then the goblin's next words made Roman's heart skip a beat.

"Master Wizard," the goblin began, his voice steady and professional, "regarding the interest earned from stored Galleons, there is one condition: the interest rate is 1%, and it is limited to one year only."

Roman blinked. Wait… what?

"Furthermore," the goblin continued, "due to the potential influx of counterfeit currency in the wizarding economy, Kamar-Taj, the Ministry of Magic, and Gringotts have agreed to recall Galleons currently in circulation. This is to identify and prevent the spread of counterfeit coins."

Roman's head was spinning.

"The interest," the goblin added, "is a small price compared to the damage counterfeit currency could inflict on the wizarding economy. This proposal was made by Principal Lockhart of Kamar-Taj himself, who has vouched for its authenticity."

The goblin gave Roman a reassuring smile, which somehow made him even more nervous.

"And, of course," the goblin finished, "the Ministry of Magic fully endorses this initiative."

Roman stood there, stunned. The explanation made sense, but it also felt like there was a giant, invisible string attached somewhere.

Still… Lockhart's name carried weight. And with the Ministry backing it? That was hard to ignore.

"The Galleons you store at Gringotts," the goblin continued, "can be withdrawn at any time. However, the interest will adjust accordingly."

Roman chewed his lip, still trying to wrap his head around it.

It was all for the good of the wizarding world, apparently. A safeguard against counterfeit coins.

And yet, that nagging feeling in the back of his mind wouldn't go away. Something about this still felt off.

But then Roman glanced down at the bag of Galleons in his hand.

One percent interest, he thought. Even for a year… that's still free money.

The risk seemed minimal. Kamar-Taj, the Ministry of Magic, and Gringotts—three of the most powerful institutions in the wizarding world—were all involved.

What could possibly go wrong?

Without further hesitation, Roman pulled out another space extension bag from his waist, waved his wand, and released a stream of freshly earned Galleons. The coins flew through the air in a shimmering golden arc, pouring into the goblin's bag like liquid sunlight.

He handed the bag to the goblin with a self-satisfied grin.

"I want to deposit all of it," he declared proudly.

As a black market potioneer, Roman wasn't a fool. If this had been just Gringotts, he would've turned tail and run. But with Kamar-Taj and the Ministry of Magic involved—especially with Lockhart backing it—he felt confident.

After all, Lockhart wasn't just a wizard—he was the richest man in the British wizarding world. The man had built a magical school from scratch with his wealth. If anyone could be trusted with money, it was him.

Besides, even if the interest only lasted a year, 1% was still a hefty profit.

The goblin took the bag, gave it a cursory count, and nodded.

"Very well, sir," he said smoothly. "A total of 3,256 Galleons. Your deposit has been registered."

Roman finally allowed himself to relax, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. But as he glanced back at the goblin, something about the creature's perpetual smile made his skin crawl.

The goblin had been smiling like that since he walked in.

It wasn't natural.

There was a strange, icy feeling creeping up Roman's spine, and he shivered involuntarily. For a brief, unsettling moment, the goblin's unnervingly polite demeanor reminded him of a dark magic construct—like an Inferius masquerading as a banker.

Before Roman could dwell on the thought, the goblin slid a sleek, black card across the counter toward him.

"Sir," the goblin said, "this is your Wealth Card. Please keep it safe."

Roman blinked at the card in front of him. It was black as midnight, with an intricate golden dragon etched into its surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights of Gringotts.

"Wealth Card?" Roman echoed, his brow furrowing. "What's this?"

The goblin's grin widened.

"This," he explained, "is a new service introduced through the combined efforts of Kamar-Taj and Gringotts, with alchemical contributions from Kamar-Taj and Gringotts' proprietary information."

The goblin tapped the card gently.

"Master Wizard, you can use this card to withdraw Galleons at any Gringotts branch, eliminating tedious procedures. Furthermore, you may conduct transactions directly through the Wealth Card, both within and outside Gringotts."

Roman's curiosity piqued. He hesitated for only a moment before reaching out, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the card.

As soon as his skin made contact, he felt a rush of energy—a pulse of magic that flowed from the card into his fingertips, connecting directly to his mind.

The interface was instantaneous.

Roman gasped as numbers and information flooded his thoughts. He saw his total balance—3,256 Galleons—displayed prominently in glowing script. Beneath it, a line of text detailed the 1% interest he would earn over the next year.

His eyes widened further when he saw a notification:

Interest Accruing Tomorrow: 43.9 Knuts

Enough for a day's worth of food and drink!

Roman's heart raced with excitement. This was better than he'd imagined.

He scrolled through the interface with his mind, discovering that he could even customize parts of his personal information—things like his profile, height, weight, and more.

The only thing he couldn't change was his name.

Roman was hooked. The Wealth Card was like discovering a new magical toy—fascinating, addictive, and endlessly useful.

"Hello, Mr. Wizard, your registration has been completed. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

The goblin's voice, smooth and unchanging, broke Roman from his fixation on the Wealth Card. It was as if the goblin could sense his growing fascination—and perhaps, his growing dependence.

Roman blinked, shaking himself free from the card's allure. The weight of the sleek, black card in his hand felt heavier now, as if it carried more than just Galleons.

"Yeah, okay… I understand," Roman muttered, his voice slightly distant. He nodded absently and turned, ready to leave Gringotts with his newfound treasure.

But before he could take more than a few steps, the goblin spoke again, his tone as polite and deliberate as before.

"Mr. Roman, just a final reminder," the goblin said, his sharp eyes glinting under the enchanted lights. "The Wealth Card has a transaction function. As long as you input the corresponding payment password or pattern, you may conduct transactions anywhere within the United Kingdom."

The goblin's gaze lingered on Roman for a moment before he added, "It is strongly recommended that you safeguard your Wealth Card carefully. Should it be lost or damaged, please visit Gringotts immediately for replacement and security management."

Roman frowned slightly, glancing at the card in his hand once more. He felt a flicker of unease—this card, for all its convenience, suddenly felt like a fragile key to his life.

"And," the goblin continued smoothly, as if anticipating Roman's next question, "please be advised: The Wealth Card can only be used domestically. Transactions outside of the UK may not process correctly, due to infrastructural limitations."

Roman stopped in his tracks, turning back with a puzzled expression. As a black marketeer, he wasn't just limited to Britain. His dealings often stretched into Europe, and he sourced many of his rarest potions and ingredients from continental suppliers.

"Why can't it be used in Europe?" Roman asked sharply, suspicion creeping back into his voice.

The goblin, ever unflappable, maintained his chillingly perfect smile.

"The Wealth Card functions through the Dream World of Kamar-Taj," the goblin explained calmly. "Currently, Kamar-Taj's Dream World has been fully integrated into the UK. This allows seamless transactions domestically."

The goblin's smile never wavered.

"However, to utilize the Wealth Card internationally, the Dream World must expand into other countries. That process is… ongoing."

Roman's brows furrowed. Dream World? What in Merlin's name was that supposed to mean? The goblin's explanation felt like a riddle wrapped in bureaucratic language, and the more he heard, the more his unease grew.

Still, the promise of 1% interest echoed in his mind, like a siren song.

"The Dream World," the goblin continued, his tone as soothing as ever, "is a virtual dimension designed by Principal Gilderoy Lockhart of Kamar-Taj. It is also referred to as a fantasy realm."

Roman's heart skipped a beat.

A virtual world?

The idea of wizards dabbling in something so foreign to traditional magic was both thrilling and unnerving. He glanced down at the card in his hand, feeling the pull of curiosity tug at him once again.

"In the Dream World," the goblin added, "you may access detailed information through your Wealth Card. It is a realm designed to enhance wizarding experiences and transactions."

Before Roman could ask more, the goblin's tone shifted slightly—still polite, but with an unmistakable hint of finality.

"If there is nothing further, Mr. Wizard, please proceed. The next customer is waiting."

Roman hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. As he made his way toward the exit, his mind buzzed with questions. But even as his instincts whispered that something was amiss, he couldn't ignore the allure of the Dream World.

Pouring a sliver of his spiritual power into the Wealth Card, Roman felt a surge of energy, as though he'd touched a hidden node in a vast network.

Suddenly, vivid images and information flooded his consciousness.

"The Dream World of Kamar-Taj, created by Principal Gilderoy Lockhart, features 356 unique scenes and 108 distinct terrains…"

The descriptions were elaborate, filled with promises of discovery and power. Roman's heart raced. There was something mesmerizing about it—this was unlike any magic he'd ever encountered.

He read further, his eyes widening as he discovered a message:

"The Dream World will open in three days. Wizards can enter through their Wealth Cards. Limited to the first 500 participants."

Roman's excitement grew. The Dream World wasn't just a banking feature—it was an entirely new dimension.

But as thrilling as it sounded, a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that this was something much bigger than just financial innovation.

Outside Gringotts – Diagon Alley

Just as Roman stepped out into the bright morning light, his excitement was abruptly cut short.

His pupils constricted as he spotted a commotion unfolding not far from the Gringotts steps.

"Damn dark wizard! You're not getting away this time!"

Several Aurors and Gringotts goblins had pinned a struggling middle-aged wizard to the cobblestones, his black robes torn and his wand confiscated. The man's face was contorted in pain and fear as he was forced down, his arms twisted behind his back.

Roman's breath caught in his throat.

He recognized that wizard—Plath, a member of one of the pure-blood families.

"Let's show everyone who this bastard really is!" one of the Aurors snarled, waving his wand.

With a sharp flick, the wizard's sleeve ripped apart, revealing an aged arm—and with it, the Dark Mark.

A skull entwined with a serpent, the unmistakable symbol of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

The crowd gasped, and a wave of whispers rippled through Diagon Alley.

"A Death Eater?"

"They actually caught one?"

"I thought the Aurors were always late to the party…"

"Yeah, they usually show up after the bad guys escape!"

Roman remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

While the captured Death Eater was being paraded as a trophy, Roman noticed several figures slipping away from the crowd's edges—moving quickly, but cautiously.

He recognized the subtle signs of retreat.

Those weren't just onlookers. They were Death Eaters.

They're still here, Roman realized, his pulse quickening. And they're planning something.

He knew these pure-blood families wouldn't let such an opportunity slip through their fingers. Gringotts had been robbed once, and now, with full compensation promised, it was like a second heist—but legally sanctioned.

Only a fool would pass up such easy profit.

But what struck Roman was the inaction of the Aurors.

They clearly saw the retreating figures. Their wands were in hand. And yet… they did nothing.

There's a deal, Roman thought grimly. A silent agreement.

As long as the pure-blood families didn't cause overt trouble, the Aurors would turn a blind eye. But if any of them got too greedy—or too careless—they'd be the next scapegoat.

The Ministry of Magic needed someone to blame for the Gringotts disaster. And it didn't matter if the culprits were real or not.

Someone had to pay.

And the wizard currently pinned to the cobblestones? He was just the first.

From the Shadows – Lockhart's Perspective

Standing a short distance away, Gilderoy Lockhart observed the scene with a detached, calculating gaze.

His eyes flicked from the captured Death Eater to the retreating figures in the crowd. But he made no move to intervene.

Instead, his attention drifted to the wizards entering and exiting Gringotts—each one clutching a newly issued Wealth Card, crafted with the finest magical refinement techniques of Kamar-Taj.

A faint smile curled at the corners of Lockhart's lips.

The Dream World wasn't just a financial tool—it was the fulcrum upon which the entire wizarding world would turn.

By controlling the currency, Kamar-Taj now had a hand in every aspect of wizard society.

And with the Dream World expanding, soon, Kamar-Taj's influence would stretch beyond Britain.

Lockhart's gaze hardened.

This wasn't just about wealth.

It was about control.

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