Strictly speaking, Morin hadn't really lost out.
The system's [Novice Wandmaking Knowledge] had bundled everything related to "staves," "rods," and "wands" together. Naturally, that included how to make a magic wand.
The problem was that magic wands made up a pitifully small fraction of the entire "staff" category.
Most of it was knowledge about crafting heavy staves meant to be used directly as weapons.
Morin followed the couple into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. He didn't have any robes in his inventory, let alone wizard robes. A Transfiguration spell couldn't be maintained forever. That would be too conspicuous.
And besides-
I, Morin, am very rich.
With confidence, Morin opened his system interface to check the starting funds provided by the system.
Starting capital.
One hundred Galleons.
Morin's expression darkened.
One hundred Galleons wasn't exactly a small sum. Ron, one of the main trio, had started with barely a single Galleon.
As for Harry-Harry was a hidden tycoon and a complete anomaly.
But for Morin?
What could this amount even buy?
It would probably disappear after purchasing a few sets of clothes. Nowhere near enough to support his plans.
He wasn't in a rush to earn money, but he still needed starting capital.
The moment Morin stepped into Madam Malkin's, a plump witch with a warm smile greeted him.
"Dear boy, what style of robes do you require?" Madam Malkin asked cheerfully.
"Something handsome and well-fitting." Morin dismissed his Transfiguration, revealing his true appearance. "I've been in the Muggle world and picked up these clothes. After a few... incidents... I realized that while they look nice, they're a bit too conspicuous for the Wizarding World."
"Oh my!" Madam Malkin exclaimed. "You are certainly one of the most handsome customers to ever enter my shop! Your current clothes are quite aesthetic... but you're right. Lovely as they are, they stand out."
"Thank you for the compliment," Morin said, smiling.
"Hm... let me see. Comfortable, stylish..." Madam Malkin looked around, flicked her wand, and a set of white robes floated over. "How about this?"
Some time later, after purchasing a large stack of robes, Morin left the shop.
If he hadn't left when he did, Madam Malkin might have given him more robes than the ones he paid for.
This world really did run on looks.
Leaving the robe shop, Morin headed straight for Gringotts.
Now dressed in robes, he no longer bothered hiding his face. Black hair, dark eyes, and golden skin-rare in Britain at this time-paired with looks that only a liar could call "average," made him instantly stand out on the street.
Gringotts was the largest and most luxuriously decorated building in Diagon Alley.
Impossible to miss.
Two massive doors stood at the entrance. The first, polished bronze, was guarded by goblins in scarlet and gold uniforms, who bowed as customers entered.
The second was silver, engraved with warnings beginning with "Enter, stranger, but take heed."
Morin glanced at it, ignored it, and walked inside.
Beyond the silver doors lay a marble hall, decorated with what could be described as restrained luxury.
Having seen the "superpower" of wealth embodied by figures like Bruce Wayne-and having accumulated wealth himself-the interior of Gringotts felt underwhelming.
A small-time affair.
Like the saying, "Set a small goal, like earning a hundred million."
Back then, a hundred million really was small.
In the center of the hall, roughly a hundred goblins sat on tall stools behind long counters. Some worked through ledgers, some weighed coins, some examined jewels through loupes, and others simply waited.
"Sir, how may we help you today?"
As Morin surveyed the hall, an idle goblin noticed him and perked up.
"It's my first time at Gringotts," Morin said as he approached the counter. "Do you handle large-scale gold exchanges?"
"Gold?" The goblin frowned slightly, his unusually long fingers closing around a quill. His voice lowered. "Pure?"
"Very."
"Is the source legitimate?"
"Entirely," Morin replied quietly. "I can guarantee no one will come looking for it."
"Hm..." The goblin scratched symbols into a ledger. "And the... quantity?"
Morin did a quick calculation. He planned to exchange two tons of gold taken from Ava into Galleons for operating capital.
"Roughly seventy thousand ounces."
"Seventy thousand?" The goblin's quill jerked, splattering ink across the page. He hurriedly tapped it with his wand to erase the stain.
"Yes," Morin said calmly.
"Sir, I must caution you. While serving customers is our duty, if you are treating Gringotts as entertainment, we will be forced to-"
He stopped.
Because Morin had placed a gold bar on the counter.
"This..." The goblin instinctively reached for it, then stopped himself. "May I verify its purity?"
"Go ahead."
The goblin tapped the bar with his wand. A faint golden glow rippled across its surface.
"Incredible purity. Almost no impurities at all," the goblin said, setting his wand down. "Was this refined with magic?"
"Something like that," Morin replied. He had nearly said machine-refined, then remembered how the Wizarding World viewed Muggles.
"If the source is clean and you wish to exchange it for Galleons, we can proceed according to the exchange rate," the goblin said, gesturing to a large hanging board. The numbers on it shifted constantly.
"Fair enough." Morin glanced at it and nodded. As long as he wasn't being completely fleeced, he didn't mind Gringotts taking a cut. The gold was liberated, after all, and its original owner lived in another world. "Should we count it here?"
"For transactions of this scale, we offer private rooms," the goblin said with a smile.
A deal this large, and he didn't even haggle.
A windfall.
Naturally, the goblin's attitude became far more accommodating. No one turned down profit.
Morin agreed, and the goblin hopped down from his stool, leading him into a private vault.
"A total of seventy thousand ounces," the goblin announced after weighing the gold. "Not a grain more, not a grain less. Top-tier quality. At the current exchange rate... you will receive sixteen thousand Gold Galleons, sir."
"Fine," Morin said.
He could estimate how much Gringotts was skimming, but it was within reason. They were doing business, not treating him like a fool.
"Would you like to withdraw the Galleons now?" the goblin asked. "We can provide a high-security vault. Given your generosity, we can offer a ten-year trial free of charge. Gringotts is the safest place in the Wizarding World-perhaps second only to Hogwarts!"
"Is that so?" Morin declined without hesitation. "I need the Galleons immediately."
His eyes flickered at the mention of Hogwarts.
Hogwarts was essential to his plans.
"I see." The goblin recalled how Morin had produced an entire mountain of gold with a casual gesture.
He hadn't even used a wand.
Which meant-
Wandless magic.
Young, terrifyingly powerful, wealthy beyond reason, and in a hurry to convert gold.
The goblin shuddered. Best not to think too deeply. He was just a clerk.
And as for the gold?
Without the Wizarding World's approval, Gringotts wouldn't exist. Once the gold entered Gringotts, it became Gringotts' gold.
And his commission.
"Very well." The goblin bowed. "Please follow me."
As they boarded a cart, he enthusiastically explained procedures and insisted Morin request him by name in the future.
"Ah, I forgot to ask," the goblin said. "Your name, sir?"
"Morin," Morin replied. "Just Morin."
The Gringotts vaults ran deep, requiring carts for access.
Of course, that was the normal method.
If Morin wanted to, every Galleon here could be in his inventory within a second.
Even with a dragon present.
"Mr. Morin, you may call me Duke," the goblin said cheerfully.
Morin: "..."
You again.
The Haunting Duke.
Looking at Duke's wispy hair and painfully obvious receding hairline, Morin nodded.
Yes.
That familiar feeling.
After the Galleons were retrieved and counted, Morin waved a hand, sweeping every coin into his system space.
"Is something wrong?" Morin asked, noticing Duke freeze mid-breath.
"N-nothing..." Duke wiped sweat from his forehead.
He had been about to remind Morin that anti-theft enchantments prevented coins from being stored inside the vault.
And yet-
"Merlin's beard..." Duke muttered. "What kind of person is he? Dumbledore?"
Morin ignored him. He had sensed the enchantments, of course. They were simply irrelevant.
The system space wasn't magic in the conventional sense. Anti-Apparition and Portkey charms were useless against it.
With Duke seeing him off enthusiastically, Morin left Gringotts and headed toward his third destination.
Ollivander's Wand Shop.
A narrow, dilapidated storefront, unimpressive in every way. Aside from the peeling gold letters reading "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.," nothing suggested it was a cornerstone of the British Wizarding World.
Morin pushed open the door.
A bell chimed from somewhere deep within.
The shop was stacked floor to ceiling with narrow boxes. Each one held a wand, each waiting for its destined owner.
Some would wait a very long time.
"Hm... a new face."
A pale-eyed old man emerged from the side. Mr. Ollivander himself. His gaze swept over Morin.
"An Easterner? Japan?"
"No. China," Morin corrected.
"Ah... I see." Ollivander paused. "That is... unexpected. I've heard there is a unique system there. Owls were sent, returned, sent again... eventually we stopped. Quite rare indeed. My apologies." He gave a small bow. "And your name?"
"Morin," Morin said. "Just Morin."
"Mr. Morin," Ollivander repeated. "Are you here for a wand? You will always find the one meant for you here."
"I do need a wand," Morin said, nodding. "But I'd like to do things differently."
He met Ollivander's gaze.
"I want to use your materials to craft one myself."
"Hm." Ollivander frowned slightly. "A most unusual request."
He studied Morin carefully.
"Mr. Morin... you know how to make wands?"