A/N: I've always liked this interesting part of the HP Universe: The vast difference between the value of a galleon and its worth as gold itself. I came up with this concept when I thought about the income of the Granger family. According to my calculations, as a combined income they would have roughly 120,000 pounds a year combined as practicing dentists. Yet they pay for Hermione's school supplies without incident. This clearly means that there is a far different exchange rate between the two currencies than the galleon's value in gold, or Hermione's parents simply wouldn't be able to afford Hermione's school supplies. That made me wonder if anyone could cheat, or potentially had cheated, the Gringotts system. My impression of the goblins is that some would mind while others would admire the shrewd nature of the transactions and support it, so long as they did not know all the details. After asking myself what family would fall under the more "nouveau riche" category in the wizarding world, at least to me, I arrived at the Malfoys. In wizarding terms, the 1700's is still nouveau riche, and the Malfoys would need to try to compensate for their lack of old money over the next few hundred years. That's how I explain the Malfoy's flamboyant behavior in regards to their wealth in the HP series. So, I don't know if this is strictly canon or not, but it fits within the canon, and it explains things for me. Enjoy! Oh, and this was also written as part of the Disney Character Challenge. I chose the three hyenas from The Lion King and Hans of the Southern Isles from Frozen as the characters that best fit the concept I wanted to try, and then wrote this story.
Septimus Malfoy I smirked as he finished writing notes on his spare bit of parchment. The small family manor, no larger than a house but still called a manor for propriety's sake, looked immaculate under his care. The three bedrooms were hard pressed to house even a speck of dust, even without the aid of house elves. The pantry, always fully stocked from transfigured bits of grass and dandelion fluff, looked just as lush as the Hogwarts kitchens leading to Halloween. Lucius rubbed his hand across the alphabetized jam jars with more than a hint of pride, still clutching the roll of parchment in his left first. Only the quill, poking unceremoniously outwards behind his ear where he tucked it for safekeeping, belied his excitement.
Septimus hummed a little to himself as he pulled the quill from behind his ear and twirled it between his fingers. He would give thought to the inky smudge the quill elect in his platinum hair later. His father, Abraxas would have been appalled at such neglectful treatment of his appearance, but as he drank their already dwindling fortune into oblivion, Septimus had no sympathy for the failure, even if the failure did happen to be his parent. « Oh daddy dearest, » he sighed, « if you could only see me now. »
Septimus slipped the quill into an ink pot in his study and pulled on a cloak. Stepping into the sun, he turned on the spot and apparated to London. Immediately, the stench of London in the 1500's assaulted his senses. « Do Muggles have no class? » he wondered idly as he strode forward into the Leaky Cauldron, a rather dilapidated pub even to the wizards who could see it. Only a few taps of wand on brick later, and Septimus stood tall in the bustling Diagon Alley. Of course, no one noticed him. Malfoys were rather low on the Pureblood totem pole, after all, and no one would pay him any mind when a Peverell walked just a few meters ahead of him. Or better yet, a Black stood just up the street, arguing with a shopkeeper over the price of some acromantula venom. Septimus scoffed at the likelihood that he would ever even look at acromantula venom in a shop, much less offer a reasonable price for some. « But that all ends today, » he reminded himself as he moved towards Gringotts.
He passed the bronze plated doors, each manned by a goblin in striking red and gold. « Godric Gryffindor should never design clothing, even for Goblins, » Septimus thought to himself as he passed insight. He barely gave a second thought to the inscription for thieves. « Take heed? » he thought, « Ah, but I will not be stealing. And I guess you can name my skills a manner of earning, in a sense. I shall be finding only treasure here, I assure you. » Septimus felt much more assured as he stepped through the doors. Apparently, he needed more assurance than he thought, since he relaxed visibly when he realized a dragon wasn't going to burst from the lowest chambers and eat him for even considering his plan.
« Hello, » Septimus said as he approached the nearest goblin bank teller. « I would like, » he lowered his voice dramatically so that the other pureblood wizards around him could not hear, « to exchange a significant amount of Muggle currency for the equivalent rate in galleons, please. » Septimus presented a small box with a very large undetectable extension charm. « This case holds approximately ten thousand pounds. » The sum, enough to consider him moderately wealthy, was the remains of his family's fortune. Even prosperous merchants had more than this.
The goblin placed a bag full of galleons in Septimus's hand, and Septimus left the bank, grinning from ear to ear. What the goblins forgot, what everyone forgot, was that the value of gold differed between the wizard and Muggle worlds after the statute of secrecy. Septimus saw Muggleborn parents, middle class Muggleborn parents, affording their children's schoolbooks and wands. A wand alone cost nine galleons! If Septimus could simply take the galleons and sell them, not as galleons or as currency, but as gold in the Muggle world…. oh, the goblins had never considered this method of robbing their precious vaults. Septimus laughed, garnering him a few odd looks from passersby.
Back in his manor home, Septimus dumped the galleons into a basin. A respectable amount for a wizard, perhaps a yearly salary of someone working at that blasted ministry. In a few minutes, it would be a gold mine. Septimus regarded his reasoning again. Each galleon was worth approximately 5 pounds, at least from what he observed of his Muggleborn compatriots as they purchased their school supplies. That said, gold sold for hundreds of pounds per ounce in the Muggle world.
« Incendio, » Septimus whispered and conjured a floating flame that sat just above the gold in the cauldron. He closed his eyes, imagining the flame growing steadily in volume, higher and higher, hotter, and hotter. So hot to melt even gold. Magical fires always seemed to have a difficult time melting gold, or perhaps just golden galleons, but the metal would give way to the flame at some point.
A few minutes later Septimus found himself staring at a basin full to the brim of melted gold. « Beautiful, » he breathed.
« Now, I just need… ah! » Septimus cast a light cooling charm on the gold and, after casting the proper charms on his gloves to keep the now putty-like gold from sticking to the dragon hide, began to mold the gold into small, irregularly shaped nuggets. After each nugget looked rough enough to be found in the ground, he cooled it completely and set it on a non-stick Muggle baking sheet. If it were not for the complexity of his work and the focus required to finish it, he would have laughed at the absurdity of solid gold « dough balls. » After every dough ball sat on roughly forty baking sheets, Septimus declared himself finished.
« Oh, wait! Saluo, » he whispered, and a thin layer of grime coated each nugget. He then spent the next four hours scrubbing the nuggets until they shined almost, but not quite, like new. These would pass for a simple Muggle find in the ground somewhere. No doubt hundreds would be clamoring for his property. Of course, he would say that he thought he found them all, but that he would be willing to sell his property, for an increased price of course. After all, not many properties in England had gold just underground. Septimus briefly considered leaving just one nugget underground, save the Muggles some of their trouble. He laughed aloud. They were simply Muggles after all. It wasn't as if they were human.
Septimus's pocket's jingled as he walked along the streets laden with gold. The nearest bank was a few miles, but Septimus didn't mind the walk. He needed to be seen by as many Muggles as possible, and seen by all of them with a stupid grin on his face. He wore pauper's rags, let his hair flow dirt filled and ragged from his skull. A rather posh man intercepted him just outside the bank. « Young sir, I must ask what you are doing outside this establishment, » he said.
« You see, good sir, today I 'ave made my for'chune. Just you wayt 'n see me, sir. » Septimus tired to adopt the goofy, stupid grin that so often graced the faces of the ignorant pigs near his home.
The man walked away, seeing he could do no good to dissuade the man from his adventure at the bank. « Probably won five quid down at the pub, » he grumbled as he hurried to work.
Septimus chuckled and strode in to the bank. « I'd like t'speak wit a teller please, » he announced to the nearest man at a desk.
« Sir, I highly doubt you would have anything of worth to this establishment, » the teller said, barely bothering to give this man a once over glance from underneath his expensive-looking spectacles.
« Oh but I do, sir. I was diggin' in me backyard just las' nigh', and I found me somethin' you might like to see. There's gold 'round here, sir. I got my nuggets wit me, all cleaned up 'n e'erythin. »
The teller's eyes widened, but narrowed at the possibility of a joke. « If you speak falsehoods, sir, I would have to report you. »
« Well sir, they's look like them posh gold bracelets them fancy women wear in town, sir. I's just thinkin' that me nuggets, the nuggets o' metal I found in me yard sir, that they might be gold'uns. » Septimus figured that he probably exaggerated the fake accent a little too much, but it was fun after the first few sentences. He did like to present a good character. Perhaps he would go into acting after he had enough money to buy the Peverell estate.
« Well, sir, I am the bank's manager. I would be happy to look at your… nuggets for you, » the posh man replied and held up a finger for the bank's internal jeweler.
« I need you to verify some precious metals here, » the man said to the jeweler. « All right, » he gestured to Septimus, « pull out your nuggets. »
Septimus dutifully pulled out all the nuggets from his pockets, and then set his three large rucksacks on the table. « All of 'ems, sirs. I was diggin' all night, I was! » As the jeweler nodded his head in the affirmative, the bank manager's eyes widened to a comical degree.
« You do realize, Mr…. »
« Just call me Septy, if it pleases you, sir. »
« Mr. Septy, » the bank manager said with the barest hint of partially suppressed disgust in his voice, « that you will be a very rich man. »
« Well that's what I told you's! » Septimus said. « Can I sell all me gold now? I want all me money in cash, if you don't mind, sirs. I know it's better to keep me money in a bank all fancy-like, but I'd prefer me wares on me, if you don't mind. »
« I think we have enough in our vaults, but it may be tight. You might need to return on the morrow after we call in a few loans, if we do not have enough pounds for the gold. Do you understand? »
« Course I do! Though I'd really prefer it all if you can manage. » Septimus did not fancy returning to this particular bank, not if his scheme were to succeed.
The bank manager raised a hand to call for a young assistant. The young man, perhaps in his early twenties, looked Septimus over with very plain disgust. The manager pulled him close and said very hastily, « This man here requires a significant withdrawal from our vaults. He does not have an account here, but trust that he has given something of equivalent value. » The manager whispered a value into the assistant's ear. Septimus smirked as the assistant nearly waddled away, shocked by the sheer amount of money and weighted by Septimus's sacks of gold.
A few minutes later, the assistant returned with sacks of British pounds, and Septimus left on his way. The bank held just enough to cover the equivalence rate between pounds and that much gold.
Within the week, Septimus had enough offers on the house to sell it for enough pounds to buy a proper manner. He didn't, of course. Instead, he borrowed the head of a rather poor Muggle outside his home and polyjuiced himself into a beggar. He lived in the slums, in one of the poorest homes there. A week later, the beggar of the slums had somehow made it rich by finding nearly-identical nuggets in his backyard. The community was in an uproar; nuggets buried in the country around London! All of the lucky finders were poor, and they certainly lived in the poorer areas around the city. Soon the wealthy flocked to poor areas, and Muggle social classes momentarily equalized as the impoverished sold their homes for exorbitant prices. Of course, none of the rich Muggles found anything, but that didn't stop them from presuming they could. Septimus, hidden away in a suitably middle-class apartment, couldn't help but chuckle.
He repeated the procedure roughly five times, and had enough Muggle money to completely fill a closet. Of course, he hart he most complex warding spells on the closet, and he thought the sheer volume of pounds would momentarily startle an intruder. That would give him enough time to arrive after his alarms warned him of a break-in. No one had tried to steal anything thus far, he noticed. Only the poor appeared to be targets for this « gold fever » that swept London. After all, only poor people found the gold in the first place. It only made sense that the poor would be robbed of all their possessions in the search for the metal. A few impoverished Muggles made it out of the poorer areas before the hysteria started, but even with the money of selling their properties, many of the poorer Muggles suffered at the hands of the rich. They demanded their money back without gold, and while the law was on the poorer Muggles' side, the rich acted as thugs and practically pillaged the lower class. Septimus only remarked on the barbarism of the Muggle race. « Pigs, the lot of them, » he said as he reclined in his newly transfigured chintz armchair with a glass of his favorite sherry.
The next day, Septimus loaded the closetful of money into the same trunk with the undetectable extension charm. Even with the charm, it took three chests, as the money filled even the expanded trunks to their capacity.
Septimus quite looked forward to the look on the goblin's face when he wrote down the sum of his riches on a piece of parchment and passed it over. The goblin ran his fingers over the boxes and nodded once, eyes widened. Septimus could never figure how they knew how much money a container held simply by rubbing a finger around the edges of the lid. It certainly looked impressive, Septimus thought. Septimus counted to three very slowly. One… two… thr— and there was the look! The goblin's lips pursed together, eyebrows very quickly advancing towards the hairline as his fingers touched the third box and he realized that Septimus had told only truths when he wrote the sum. Septimus laughed softly.
The goblin grinned, more a feral showing of teeth than an actual smile, but an expression of some sort of pleasure. « Impressive work, Mr. Malfoy. One would do to keep methods hidden behind closed doors, if you understand my meaning. » Septimus opened him mouth to demand of the goblin exactly what he implied, but the goblin cut him off, « I do not care how you made the money; I only care that you did not steal it. And technically, there was no thievery here. I cannot tell anything else, nor do I want do. Your business is much welcomed here, Mr. Malfoy. I expect you shall have one of the lower vaults, with galleons of such a value in such a short time. Though, you may want to repeat this sum, » the goblin paused, « five more times, I would think. That should put you ahead of the Houses of Potter and Black. I am sure that would please you, sir. »
« It would please me very much. Good day, » Septimus said as he left first the goblin's desk and then Gringotts. Soon the wizards on this street would look at him and see a very different man.
« First, Gringotts. Next, the ministry, » Septimus thought. He nearly clicked his heels in the air in his excitement.