Chapter 5: Silver Forged Wood Wand
After passing through the second silver door, two goblins at the door bowed to Sean and led him into a tall marble hall. In the center of the hall hung a huge conical chandelier, shining brightly like a starry night sky, illuminating the entire hall as if it were daytime. The surrounding marble pillars were carved with intricate patterns, as if narrating an ancient and mysterious story.
There were about a hundred goblins sitting on high stools behind a long row of counters. Some were weighing coins with copper scales, some were examining gems with eyepieces, and others were making hasty entries in large ledgers. There were countless doors in the hall, each leading to different places, and many goblins were guiding people in and out of these doors.
Sean walked towards the counter.
"Vault 128," Sean said, placing the vault key on the counter before the goblin could ask.
A goblin behind the counter, who looked like an old man in a suit, bowed to Sean and said, "Yes, sir, please follow me."
Sean followed the goblin out of one of the doors and out of the hall. What came into view was a narrow stone corridor, brightly lit by burning torches. The stone corridor was a steep downhill slope with a small railway underneath.
The goblin merely whistled, and a cart came barreling toward them along the track. After Sean got on the cart, it sped quickly through the maze-like winding passage until it passed an underground lake covered with huge stalactites and stalagmites. The cart then stopped at a door in the passage.
Sean looked embarrassed. After getting off the cart, he had been leaning against the wall to ensure that he would not fall. Muggle and wizard transport in the UK wasn't great, and now goblins had to be added to that list. He had dodged the first two but not the latter.
Sean speculated with the greatest malice that this bad experience might be a trick used by the goblins to prevent wizards from withdrawing money frequently.
The goblin used the key to unlock the door, and a thick green smoke came out. After the smoke dissipated, dozens of piles of gold Galleons emitted an attractive halo in the stone chamber—about 200,000 Galleons. This was all the wealth he had accumulated over the years, and there was nothing else besides this.
Under the goblin's caring gaze, Sean grabbed handfuls of gold Galleons and stuffed them into several snakeskin bags that he had prepared long ago. When several snakeskin bags were full, there were still quite a few gold Galleons left in the stone chamber. Sean took a quick look and found that there were probably about 20,000 or 30,000 left.
"Come back next time," the goblin standing nearby also saw the intention of the wizard in front of him. He actually wanted to withdraw all the money deposited in Gringotts, so he hurriedly dissuaded him.
Sean nodded calmly. Hundreds of thousands of gold Galleons were enough for him to splurge for a while, and it would be a good idea to keep the rest here as emergency funds.
So just like that, he returned to the ground under the guidance of the goblin. It is worth mentioning that perhaps Sean's behavior just then made the goblin develop something called a "service attitude." The cart going back was unusually stable. It felt like Sean was sitting on a slow green train in his previous life. He even had the leisure to look around, trying to find the fire dragon that was said to be hidden under Gringotts. But unfortunately, he obviously didn't have this fate.
Walking out of the bronze gate of Gringotts, Sean walked along the cobblestone path for a long time before he saw a small and shabby shop. The peeling gold sign on the shop door read: Ollivanders - Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. From the outside, the store's display window was covered in dust, with a solitary magic wand placed on the faded purple cushion.
As Sean opened the door and walked in, he heard a series of jingling bells coming from somewhere in the back of the store. The last time he came to this store was about twelve or thirteen years ago. Sean could no longer remember the exact date, but he had not forgotten the decoration of the store. Or perhaps it was difficult to forget.
There was only a lonely bench in the store, and inside were thousands of narrow boxes that towered up to the sky, neatly arranged there like a mountain, forming a special bridge between the ground and the ceiling. An old man was wrapped in the middle of these boxes, with his head down, and no one knew what he was busy with.
Seeing Sean's gaze, the old man raised his head: "What's the matter?"
"Mr. Ollivander, my wand was damaged during an adventure... so I thought..." Sean said as he took off his black face scarf and sunglasses. Of course, this was a lie. Sean needed a new wand just in case, for something special.
"Phillips," Ollivander looked at Sean's face carefully for a while, then recognized this hot explorer and writer of recent years, and said with a regretful tone, "This matter sounds very sad..."
"I still remember the wand you used, thirteen inches, silver basswood, dragon heartstring..."
"A while ago, many young wizards who were about to enter school came to choose wands, and they all said in unison that they wanted wands made of the same material as you or Lockhart..." Ollivander said unhappily, "The last time silver basswood wands were so popular was in the 19th century. Because of the shortage of supply, some unscrupulous wand makers dyed inferior wood to fool buyers..."
"But the exquisite appearance of the silver basswood wand can indeed attract the favor of many young wizards, right?"
Sean interrupted Ollivander's spellcasting in time. If he continued to listen, he would probably have to start from the history of this store more than a thousand years ago, and he didn't have time for that.
But Sean's words seemed to cause Ollivander's dissatisfaction. He frowned and said, "A gorgeous appearance can never cover up an empty interior. Our ancestors have long determined that it is the wand that chooses the wizard, because it can always faithfully reflect the quality of the wand's owner..."
Ollivander changed the subject and began muttering something about the impetuous society and the disorderly Ministry of Magic. It was not difficult for Sean to guess that these words had been in his stomach for a long time.
It was not until a long while later that Ollivander ended his meaningless rant. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long measuring tape with silver markings.
"Right hand, Mr. Phillips."
Sean held out his arm obediently. The measuring tape flew up automatically and began to measure the size as Ollivander moved, from wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally the circumference of the head. As the measurement was completed, the tape measure fell to the ground, and Ollivander began to move between the shelves at the back, picking up several boxes and returning to the counter.