Chapter 3: You Want an Owl to Deliver the Message, Right?

According to Allen's observations in Diagon Alley, the strength gap between wizards was still very large.

For instance, most of the vendors selling goods along the street had hunting levels of around 23 or 24. In contrast, the wizards in uniform—who Allen later learned from Professor McGonagall were patrolling Aurors—had hunting levels around 40.

Besides wizards, there were also various magical creatures wandering the streets of Diagon Alley, each exhibiting distinct levels of strength. One furry creature, known as a velvet, often nestled as a pet on the shoulders of women or children. It had a hunting level of 1—the minimum possible. Meanwhile, a wizard pushing a cargo box and selling goods seemed completely unthreatening and went about his business without attracting any attention.

In stark contrast, a house elf that had just been kicked aside had a hunting level of 53—a terrifying number compared to everyone else on the street.

Of course, Allen had no interest in such ingredients. Small, meatless creatures like cattails or humanoid house elves didn't appeal to him in any culinary sense. However, he did find himself eyeing the owls that occasionally flew through the sky. Those did make him feel a little greedy.

It wasn't that Allen had never eaten owls before—he had. But ordinary owls were just that: ordinary. They had a hunting level of 1, offering little challenge or nutritional value. These owls flying through the sky of Diagon Alley, however, were different. These were magical owls—trained to deliver letters—and their hunting levels exceeded 3.

He tilted his head back, watching one soar overhead. Its feathers shimmered in the golden light. Allen's eyes locked on it, following every movement.

Owl passing overhead: Why do I feel so cold today?

Professor McGonagall, walking beside him, noticed his gaze.

She looked up just in time to see the owl disappear beyond the rooftops. Then she lowered her head and glanced at Allen, her expression unreadable.

"When your loan is completed," she said calmly, "you'll be able to choose your own owl as a pet. It can accompany you and help you—deliver letters to your friends."

Allen remained silent.

There was a moment of quiet between them.

Then McGonagall spoke again, more gently this time. "You think owls are only used to deliver letters, right?"

Allen turned his head, a little embarrassed.

He wasn't about to admit the truth—that in his mind, he was picturing the owl roasted, its feathers plucked, its meat glazed in honey and grilled over open flame.

Professor McGonagall: …

"Let's talk about pets later," she said abruptly, choosing to move past the awkwardness. "Gringotts is just ahead."

Gringotts stood as the tallest building in Diagon Alley. Its golden outer walls gleamed like a lighthouse amid the muted, gray surroundings of the rest of the alley.

Allen followed McGonagall into the towering structure. Thanks to her assistance, he was able to process his student loan and receive the year's relief fund. A goblin with a hunting level of 31 helped them through the procedure.

"The temporary vault requires a fee of five hundred galleons per year," the goblin at the counter said, looking down at Allen with calculating eyes. "This is considered an additional loan. It accrues 12% interest annually. The interest will be compounded into the principal for the next year."

Five hundred galleons wasn't a small amount. Based on everything Allen had seen so far, that sum was roughly equivalent to an entire year of living expenses.

And worse, this was a loan with compound interest.

Allen frowned. He didn't like the idea of having to pay so much extra money every year. But the loan itself—a one-time grant totaling 4,200 galleons—had already been approved. There was no way he could carry that much money around with him.

"Can the loans be issued in installments?" Allen asked cautiously.

"The Ministry of Magic made no such provision," the goblin replied in a shrill voice. "So the answer is: no."

Greedy goblin. Allen's expression darkened. He could sense the goblin's delight at pushing him toward renting a temporary vault, clearly motivated by profit.

A trace of ferocity flickered in Allen's eyes. His impression of the goblin race was already very poor—and this only made it worse.

So Jewish in spirit, he thought bitterly, his inner thoughts bordering on something darker and more dangerous.

He clenched his fists. He didn't want to pay this fee, nor did he want to shoulder such a burdensome debt—even if he was confident that he could repay it in the future.

So he turned to Professor McGonagall, the only person in this situation whom he could trust.

McGonagall hesitated. She knew all too well how greedy goblins could be. Their willingness to squeeze people regardless of their circumstances was despicable. But offering her own vault as an alternative made her uneasy.

She couldn't be the one to suggest it. If she did, it might look like she was trying to take advantage of a student's orphan loan. And goblins loved to gossip. The moment she asked on her own, they'd report her for "coveting a student loan." The news would be sold to newspapers by the next morning.

At that point, there'd be no way for her to explain herself.

So unless Allen brought it up first… could a child even understand the complexity of this decision?

She looked down at him—and met his eyes.

His light green pupils were filled with trust and calm intelligence.

"Professor McGonagall," Allen began slowly, "although this might sound a bit rude…"

He hesitated. But McGonagall had proven herself trustworthy. Based on everything he knew from the original stories, the strict yet fair deputy headmistress had a strong sense of justice. She wouldn't take advantage of an orphan, let alone misuse his loan.

"Could I borrow your vault?" he asked. "At least until I can afford to buy my own."

McGonagall's expression softened. This was a smart child.

She smiled and nodded gracefully. "Of course, Mr. Cecil."

With the goblin now looking as if he had swallowed something foul, Allen and Professor McGonagall signed a contract that was both magically and legally binding. The vault would be held in McGonagall's name, but Allen would retain full access under the terms of the contract.

Thus, 4,100 galleons were safely deposited into McGonagall's vault.

Allen kept only 250 galleons with him, including this year's relief funds. That amount was enough to purchase necessary textbooks, school supplies, and—most importantly—the single most essential tool for any wizard:

A wand.