บท 7: Eye of Worth
Chapter 7: Eye of Worth
[Halls of Hogwarts]
"Is there something you would like to tell me, Damien?"
Despite his short stature, the professor of Charms felt like a behemoth to Damien. This was a man who had the courage to stand up to authority, had bested multiple famed duelists in his glory days, and remained one of the most respected professors at Hogwarts.
He was someone Damien looked up to.
"I feel like I recently unlocked something in myself, Professor," the boy said, not entirely lying to the man he admired.
"Oh?" Walking side by side, the professor paused to look at him. "Care to explain?"
Unlike many, Filius Flitwick never ordered anyone around. He made requests, and, due to the respect others held for him, he got answers without having to force anyone.
Even now, though Damien wasn't willing to share the full truth, he offered a small explanation to satisfy the professor's curiosity.
"Two days ago, I felt my body temperature rise feverishly. It felt like I was trapped, almost suffocating, unable to breathe properly," the boy explained, twisting his experience into an excuse. "I forced myself to breathe and to untangle the knots I felt within."
Flitwick rubbed his chin thoughtfully, considering the possibilities that might explain such a sensation.
"A blockage in your pathways preventing you from exerting your magic," he guessed. "It's rare, something I've seen only a handful of times over the decades, but it can cause a wizard considerable suffering."
"Does it heal on its own?" Damien asked, genuinely curious.
"Extremely rare," the professor replied. "But there have been cases."
This answer gave Damien a sense of relief. Researching the condition might provide him with a more publicly acceptable explanation.
"What puzzles me," the professor said with a hint of amusement, "is that no one caught this issue earlier. A proper physical and magical examination should have flagged such a blockage as the cause of your low magic output."
But Damien had the perfect explanation.
"Well... I've never had a proper magical examination, Professor," he said, surprising Flitwick. "Most of my physical exams were conducted by non-magic bearers, and I just used simple healing spells whenever I caught a cold or flu."
The professor looked at him with concern. "Try not to do that too often, Damien. Do get proper check-ups from Madam Pomfrey before casting any healing spells."
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor."
"Good," the man nodded as they reached the end of the hallway. "Maybe your body was simply trying to absorb as much magic as it could to compensate for the newly opened pathways. Or perhaps, it was always your magic, and only now can you finally exert it."
Damien remained silent, not commenting. He had neither knowledge of the condition nor any personal experience with it, and he knew that speaking about matters one didn't understand often led to trouble.
"Anyhow," Flitwick continued with a bright smile, "I'll bring this up in the next meeting with the headmaster and the matron. If there's any lingering issue or residual blockage, they can help clear it."
The possibility of his lie being exposed made Damien uncomfortable. 'I'll need to look into this matter soon,' he thought, while outwardly offering the professor a smile. "Thank you, Professor."
The professor nodded. "Well then, I'll be in my office if you need me, Damien." He patted Damien's shoulder, reaching up slightly to do so.
"Thank you, Professor."
Flitwick headed toward his office, but just as Damien was about to turn and leave, he heard the professor's voice again.
"And Damien."
"Yes, Professor?" The boy turned, curious.
"Be careful," the professor warned. "Embarrassing Draco Malfoy won't sit well with his father. While he has no power within Hogwarts, it's a different matter beyond campus."
This was something Damien had been somewhat worried about.
"I know, Professor," he said with a trace of uncertainty. "I didn't intend to make an enemy of him."
The truth was, Draco had always been his enemy — hurting and insulting him just for existing.
"Only make enemies of those you're sure you can defeat," the professor advised with a reassuring smile. "Follow that, and you'll live longer than most wizards."
Damien nodded, appreciating the advice.
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor."
Yet the boy knew he didn't have the luxury of choosing his enemies.
…
…
[Gringotts]
Students are usually not permitted to leave the school grounds, even for banking matters. Most transactions can be made directly through the school's contact with the bank.
However, thanks to a pardon letter from Professor Flitwick, Damien was allowed to visit the bank in person.
Damien knew that Hogwarts was essentially a glorified boarding school, with the main difference being its focus on magic rather than general studies.
'Not that it matters,' Damien dismissed the thought, focusing on his current task. 'You can't reach the top in either world without getting your hands a little dirty.'
He slowly approached the massive gate guarded by gargoyles, feeling numerous eyes on him with each step.
There were people, many of them, and each was under the vigilant gaze of the gargoyles.
Damien had never actually seen the gargoyles do anything besides watch over people, but he'd read about their terrifying power.
'Steal from their sight, and your sight shall be stolen.'
It was a phrase he remembered from a book on gargoyles.
'Does it matter?' he thought with amusement. 'I believe not.'
He wasn't the thief here—the real thieves were the ones running the bank.
"Welcome, sir." As he stepped inside, he was greeted by one of the goblin guards.
Damien felt a jolt of surprise; the sight of the goblin was unexpectedly intimidating.
"Something wrong, sir?"
Damien had seen goblins in the dungeon, but encountering one so well-dressed and eloquent reminded him that he was no longer in the dungeon—he was at the bank, here to exchange jewelry for money.
"N-No, nothing's wrong," he replied. "I'm here to sell some old jewelry."
At the mention of jewelry, the goblin's eyes sparkled.
"Gold jewelry, I presume, sir?" the goblin asked. Damien nodded. "Please, follow me."
The goblin's departure from the guard post prompted another goblin to quickly take his place, allowing him to assist Damien.
"My name is Grunthog, and I assure you, I will get the best price for your jewelry."
Grunthog reminded Damien of what he'd read about goblins—clever, strong, and fiercely possessive, especially of gold.
He carried the jewelry in a cloth pouch tucked under his robe, periodically checking to make sure it was still there.
"We've been buying jewelry at market value since our inception in 1474," Grunthog said, pride evident in his tone.
"Just buying?" Damien asked, curious about what they did with the jewelry.
"We don't sell gold, sir," the goblin replied, his tone grave, as if discussing a taboo. "We exchange it, we lend it, but we never sell it."
Damien nodded, realizing that gold might be even more precious to goblins than he'd thought.
"We're here, sir," Grunthog said, leading him to a small room guarded by gargoyles at the entrance. "Please make sure you've put away your wand."
Damien had already done so, aware of the bank's strict 'no arms' policy.
"Ah, Grunthog." As Damien entered, he was met by an older goblin with wrinkled skin, droopy eyes, and spectacles. "Who's this you've brought?"
"A customer, Burntgog," Grunthog said with excitement. "He wishes to sell some jewelry."
Damien hadn't expected such a reaction from a goblin his age, but he was wrong.
"Oh? Then why are you still standing there!" the elder goblin exclaimed. "Come here, boy. We only offer the best value for gold."
Burntgog jumped down from his high chair and approached Damien with eager eyes, making him feel slightly uneasy.
"I have some necklaces, bracelets, and rings from my mother," Damien explained, "and I'm hoping to exchange them for Galleons."
The elder goblin's eyes lit up. "That can certainly be arranged! Show me, and I shall fetch the perfect price."
Damien had once considered selling the jewelry at a pawn shop but didn't trust those establishments enough to carry gold with him. It wasn't safe for someone his age to walk around with that much gold.
Though he knew Gringotts would only pay the value of the materials, he preferred it over a shady shop.
"Well," he said, carefully taking out the pouch from his robe. "Here it is."
He handed over the pouch, and as the goblins opened it, they both seemed captivated.
"Marvelous! Marvelous!" the older goblin praised. "It's a work of art!"
"Such exquisite craftsmanship!" added Grunthog. "Clean and refined!"
Damien had to agree. Whoever crafted the jewelry must have been an expert, and the diamonds were set in such a way that it reflected true skill and dedication.
"So," Damien asked. "How much can I get for this?"
The goblin inspected the jewelry, running his fingers over it, savoring its feel and scent.
"Oh, it's worth quite a bit," he said, "but only for the value of the materials."
Damien already knew this, though it was a bit disappointing. Still, it was enough.
"We don't pay for craftsmanship, only for the materials—the gold, platinum, and diamonds embedded in them," the younger goblin clarified.
"Three bracelets, three rings, and two necklaces," the elder goblin mused. "The bracelets are triple-ringed platinum, the rings are gold with diamonds, as are the necklaces."
Burntgog examined the gold from every angle, tapping it with his nails and sniffing it.
"It's genuine," he said with a broad grin. "Not fake."
Grunthog seemed eager to confirm the gold's authenticity and quickly proceed with the exchange.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Grunthog stepped forward eagerly. "Let's weigh the gold!"
Burntgog turned to Damien. "If you're fine with that, boy?"
"I am," Damien confirmed. "I want to know how much I can get for it."
With that, the goblin scurried over to the table, carefully placing the items in his hands as he adjusted his glasses in front of the measuring scales.
"We're offering 39 Galleons, 10 Sickles, and 1 Knut per ounce of gold, and 42 Galleons, 2 Sickles, and 11 Knuts for platinum," the goblin announced. "As for the diamonds, we'll need to verify their purity."
"I told you," Grunthog beamed proudly, "we only offer the best prices."
Damien, however, was unimpressed. Although a single Galleon held significant value in Muggle currency, he was aware that goblins were not always as trustworthy in pricing as they claimed.
"Sir," Damien's expression hardened. "I'd ask you to take me seriously."
The goblins looked surprised.
"I may be young, but I'm not ignorant," Damien continued, his voice firm. "I've done my research. The actual value per ounce for gold today is 43 Galleons, 7 Sickles, and 4 Knuts, and for platinum, it's 46 Galleons, 1 Sickle, and 1 Knut. So, please don't try to deceive me."
The goblins were taken aback. They recognized Damien as a Muggle-born and a Hogwarts student based on his attire, and they hadn't expected him to be so well-informed. But they knew he was right.
"Err… I must have misremembered the prices," the goblin chuckled nervously. "You're absolutely correct."
Grunthog, though slightly irritated, quickly resumed his cheerful demeanor. "You certainly know your stuff for a student, sir."
In truth, Damien had only deduced the correct prices moments before, while Burntgog was handling the jewelry.
[Gold per Necklace: 3 ounces]
[Platinum per Bracelet: 2 ounces]
[Gold per Ring: 0.5 ounces]
[Gold conversion rate: 43 Galleons, 7 Sickles, 4 Knuts]
[Platinum conversion rate: 46 Galleons, 1 Sickle, 1 Knut]
"I like to be well-informed about what I'm selling," Damien replied, before inquiring further. "And what do you estimate for the diamonds?"
"Let me see..." The older goblin promptly put on a magnifying lens and inspected each diamond thoroughly.
Damien waited patiently as the goblin examined each piece.
"These are perfectly natural stones, expertly polished," the goblin noted with a grin. "Each one-carat diamond is valued at 1983 Galleons, 6 Sickles, and 13 Knuts."
Damien nodded, satisfied. "Sounds fair."
[Diamond per Carat: 1983 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 13 Knuts]
He admired how quickly the goblin had returned to business and respected that, while the goblin might try to lowball, he'd never overestimate.
"A true businessman," Damien thought.
"Now, after weighing everything—necklaces, bracelets, and rings—the final value amounts to…" The goblin did some quick calculations, combining the value of the stones and metals. "Precisely 38,065 Galleons, 12 Sickles, and 27 Knuts."
[Total Jewelry Value: 38,065 Galleons, 12 Sickles, 27 Knuts]
Damien was thankful for the magical skill he received; without it, he might have been deceived.
"Would you like the money transferred to your account, or would you prefer to take it with you?" one of the goblins asked. Damien thought it over before deciding to keep only one hundred Galleons in hand and deposit the rest.
"I'll take one hundred Galleons and deposit the remainder in my account."
The goblins seemed pleased that Damien chose to leave most of the funds in their vault.
"Of course, sir!" Grunthog replied, beaming. "And please, bring us more jewelry whenever you have any!"
"Of course," Damien assured them, suspecting that this might not be his last visit.
'Something tells me I might just become one of the wealthiest clients this bank will ever serve.'
And he wasn't far off from the truth.
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