Price of Knowledge

Hermione Granger sat in the library, her fingers drumming impatiently against the wooden table. She glanced at the clock on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time, her brows drawn in frustration.

Harry was late. Very late.

Her foot tapped against the floor as she debated how long she should wait. They had agreed on this meeting days ago, and Harry had never seemed unreliable.

He had been just as eager as she was to figure things out. So where was he?

After another half-hour, she sighed, closing the book in front of her. Maybe something had come up. She would give him the benefit of the doubt—for now.

The next day, Hermione returned to the library, half-expecting to wait again, but this time, Harry was there.

The moment she saw him, her frustration bubbled back up. "Harry! What happened? I waited for ages yesterday!"

Harry looked uncomfortable, avoiding her gaze as he sat down across from her. "I—I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Hermione opened her mouth to press further, but as she took a closer look at him, her words caught in her throat.

There were faint bruises on his arms, ones that he had clearly tried to cover with the sleeves of his oversized shirt. His movements were a little stiffer than usual, and the way he held himself like he was bracing for something, sent a shiver through her.

Hermione wasn't naïve. She had read enough books to recognize the signs of someone trying to hide pain.

Her anger faded, replaced by something far more complicated. She wanted to ask. She wanted to demand answers, but she knew Harry well enough to understand that he wouldn't just open up because she asked.

Instead, she took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. "It's… alright," she said, her voice softer. "I was just worried, that's all."

Harry glanced at her, a flicker of gratitude in his green eyes before he quickly looked away.

Hermione took a steadying breath, pushing aside the questions swirling in her head. If Harry wanted to tell her what had happened, he would. Pressing him now wouldn't help.

Instead, she decided to focus on what they had come here to do. "Did you find anything?" she asked, hoping to bring the conversation back on track.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," he said, leaning in slightly. "I found it."

Hermione blinked. "Found what?"

"The place we've been looking for. The hidden part of London."

Her frustration from earlier was momentarily forgotten. "You did?" she whispered, eyes wide.

Harry nodded. "It's called the Leaky Cauldron. It's a pub, but not just any pub. People walk right past it without even noticing." He paused, recalling how his own eyes had tried to slide past it before he forced himself to focus. "It has to be magic. That's why no one sees it."

Hermione leaned forward, her fingers clutching the edge of the table. "But how did you know?"

Harry hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I just… recognized it. When I saw the sign, I knew."

Hermione studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright. So what's inside?"

Harry's expression grew thoughtful. "A wizarding pub. The barkeep, Tom, let me in. He showed me how to get to the magical part of the city behind it."

Hermione's breath caught. "There's more?"

"A whole street," Harry confirmed. "Shops, people, everything. I didn't have much time to look around, but it's real. It's all real."

Hermione stared at him, absorbing his words. She had spent so long trying to prove magic existed, trying to find something tangible beyond dusty old books and vague folklore. And now, here was Harry, telling her he had stepped into an entire hidden world.

She exhaled slowly. "We have to go."

Harry smiled slightly. "I know. But we need money first."

Hermione's excitement dimmed slightly. "Right. That's a problem."

Harry glanced around the library as if making sure no one was listening. "We could ask your parents."

Hermione bit her lip. "They wouldn't mind giving me money for a book, but if I tell them the truth…"

"We don't have to tell them everything," Harry pointed out. "Just that we found a place that sells books about magic, and we want to check it out."

Hermione frowned. "That's still a stretch."

Harry hesitated before adding, "You told me they're dentists, right? They're not exactly struggling for money."

She gave him a sharp look but sighed. "Fine. But just one book. We don't want them asking too many questions."

Harry nodded. "One book is all we need."

The next afternoon, Hermione approached her parents cautiously. Her mother was reading a medical journal while her father skimmed through a newspaper.

"Erm… Mum, Dad?"

Her mother looked up first. "Yes, dear?"

Hermione clasped her hands together. "There's a bookstore I want to visit. It has some… rare books, ones you can't find in regular shops."

Her father lowered his paper slightly. "Oh? What kind of books?"

Hermione hesitated, then said carefully, "Books on magic."

Her parents exchanged a glance.

"Well," her mother said slowly, "I suppose that's not surprising, given how many books on folklore you've read."

Hermione nodded quickly. "Exactly! And I found out that this shop carries some of the oldest on the subject."

Her father chuckled. "You and your books." But he reached for his wallet anyway. "How much do you need?"

Hermione tried not to seem too eager. "Just enough for one book."

Her father handed her a crisp £20 note. "That should be plenty."

Hermione beamed. "Thank you!"

As she left the room, she felt a small pang of guilt for not telling them everything. But they wouldn't understand yet.

She had a world to uncover first.

The next morning, Hermione and Harry met up early.

"I got the money," she said, patting her pocket.

Harry grinned. "Great. Let's go."

The two of them made their way toward the hidden alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, stepping cautiously through the door as they entered the magical world together.

Their first stop was the bookstore. It was a towering structure, shelves stretching impossibly high, crammed with books of all shapes and sizes. The scent of old parchment filled the air, and both of them stared in wonder.

Hermione reached for the nearest book, running her fingers over the embossed title. "This is incredible."

Harry nodded. "It's even bigger than I thought."

They approached the counter, heartened by the sight of the bookseller, an elderly woman with spectacles perched on her nose.

Hermione placed the money on the counter. "Excuse me, we'd like to buy a book."

The woman barely glanced at the note before shaking her head. "We don't take Muggle money, dear."

Harry's stomach dropped.

Hermione blinked. "Muggle money?"

The bookseller sighed. "If you don't have Galleons, I'm afraid you can't make a purchase."

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione.

Of course. The magic world had its own currency.

"Well… what do we do now?" Hermione murmured as they stepped away from the counter.

Harry exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting down the street. Then, he saw it.

A massive white building, its doors tall and imposing. Strange creatures stood at attention, their sharp eyes watching everyone who entered.

"Gringotts," he said aloud.

Hermione followed his gaze. "A bank?"

Harry nodded. He remembered Tom's words.

"If you're looking for wizarding money, you'll need to head over to Gringotts."

It was their only option.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to Hermione.

"Let's go."