Have Wand Will Travel II

I flip the sickle high into the air. It sails through the sky, the morning sun glinting bright off its silvery surface. And then, when it lands neatly in the palm of my hand, I do it again.

Loud, cluttered and chaotic. The hectic energy of a prosperous and bustling market. That'd been my first impression of Diagon Alley, and I was glad to see a few weeks of time hadn't dulled that feeling in the slightest.

What could arguably be called the heart of magical Britain, commerce was the name of the game here. People of every single caste, color and creed imaginable mingled under the light of the morning sun, frantically buying and selling everything I could possibly think of and even more that I couldn't.

I lazily meandered my way in and out of the bustling crowd, something new catching my eye with every step.

The crowd parts around a group of four fiery robed African wizards arguing heatedly in some foreign tongue, one of them holding a small metallic feather that seemed to eat the light around it. An eye-patched elderly man tries to push the 'real genuine actual' Ring of Solomon into my hands, cheerily waving me off when I politely refuse. A line of people stands before a stunningly beautiful woman that smelled of the sea, a series of glowing multicolored stones on the table before her. An adorable little lion-goat-snake crossbreed thing yawns cutely at me from over a cloaked person's shoulder.

The sights and smells and sounds make my head spin in the best way possible. I still reall-

I fumble the throw this time. A bald guy yelps as the Sickle bounces cleanly off his head and into the crowd.

"Erm… Five Sickles should be enough, I think."

"Come again!"

The doorbell chimed pleasantly behind me as I stepped back out into the street, carefully examining my ticket out of poverty. Er, or at least out of dying hungry in a ditch somewhere. Either way, progress, so I'd take it.

"..." Now what did I spend literally all the money I'd left on, you ask? Was it some legendary magical artifact that had gone unnoticed for aeons? Something that'd drawn me into the cramped magical pawn-shop behind me as it called to my very soul? Something that-

It was a lock. A shitty somewhat-tarnished brass lock that'd look like it would break if the wind hit in the wrong way.

It was also missing its key, if that made things any better.

But I wasn't stup- that stupid. After all, I'd a plan! A brilliant plan! Believe it!

"Alohomora!"

Originally called the Thief's Friend, the Unlocking Charm had its roots in ancient Africa. It had been created by an unnamed sorcerer there, who had then passed it onto the now legendary mage-thief Eldon Elsrickle.

"Alohomora!"

On his return to his homeland, Elsrickle went on to use the charm in a series of robberies that shook both magical and muggle London, earning him the moniker of 'The Spectral Thief of Old London Town'. And though he was eventually foiled and caught due to the creation of the Anti-Unlocking Charm, there still existed those who followed in his footsteps to this day.

"Alohomora!"

Of course, that all fucking rested on me actually getting the hang of this stupid charm! I glare down at the still-locked lock in my lap. In the brass reflection, curly brown hair and amber eyes glare right back.

"Alohomora!" I repeatedly jab my wand at the damanable thing. "Alohomora! Alohomora! Alohomora! Alohomora!"

There's a sliver of silence. And…

It stays locked.

I sigh.

From what little I'd managed to puzzle out through reading the textbooks, magic in this world was just as much about intent as it was about memorizing wand movements and pseudo-Latin phrases. Using one's emotions as fuel and one's feelings as accelerant, a true witch or wizard could make the will of the world to bend (shatter) beneath their own. And while of course the details were probably a thousand times more complicated, and definitely something to look into more, the general idea at hand remained the same.

In order to truly cast Alohomora, I would have to want- need the lock to open by itself. And so thus, Desire or Greed was the best way for a charm like this to work.

"..." So, I took a deep breath and… And I remembered. "...Alo-"

Chainedtrappedcolddarkforeverlosteternityendlesseverthingnothinggoddevilunimportantchoicefreedomfreedomfreedomfreedomfreedom.

"-ho-"

Homenothomenewalonedangermagicwizardspotterchancechangeshattermagickinggodpowerfreedomfreedomfreedomfreedom.

"-mo-"

Freedommagicrichespowergreedlustfreedomwrathchoicefreedomlifesalvationneveragainfreedomfreedomfreedomfreedom.

"-ra."

Click.

Adults always say that 'crime doesn't pay'. But they always forget to mention the second half of the statement that made it actually true: 'if you get caught that is'.

And rest assured, I didn't plan on getting caught any time soon.

Growing increasingly familiar with my new-found spell, I push open the formerly locked window with a soft creak. Clambering into the latest random muggle apartment, I immediately start nosing around to see if I could find anything useful.

"Ah, money! I love money!"

Didn't want to take anything too important, though. After all, anything even nearing the scale of what Elsrickle pulled would bring the English government's (and in turn the Ministry's) attention down on me, while petty larceny happened often enough that the chances of anyone noticing or caring were slim to none. And even if some muggle did, I sincerely doubted that 'm-m-magic!' was going to be their first response to the results of my actions.

"Passport? Eh, worthless. Pass."

But wait! Cas, I hear you cry! What about the Trace?!

Ah, yes. The dreaded Trace. From one point of view, I applauded whoever had thought up the thing. It was an understandably restrictive spell, alerting the Ministry any time anyone under seventeen cast a spell outside of designated areas. Made especially to prevent any idiot kid from accidentally hurting themselves without adult supervision, or worse, break the Statute of Secrecy itself.

But note the wording. 'Kid'.

When one Professor Flitwick had 'revealed' the existence of magic to me and shown me to Diagon Alley, I'd asked a few innocent (pointed) questions. About how the Trace worked. About how it was applied. About why it knew to disappear on the seventeenth birthday, and not a moment sooner. And while the half-goblin could probably guess why I was asking, I doubted he knew that I'd be able to actually act on the answers I'd received.

Because you see, I was still very clearly a child in body, with what being all of four and a half feet off the ground. And heck, I could even argue that because the way the brain worked I was kinda-sorta-maybe a child in mind too.

But in the source of all magic? The only part that couldn't be easily faked or manipulated? The part that the Trace latched onto?

Well. In soul, under seventeen I was most certainly not.

"Scourify!"

Best not leave any evidence behind.

"Huh." According to this pamphlet, in the five centuries since its founding, twelve-thousand seven-hundred ninety-two wizards and witches had walked into Gringotts Wizarding Bank for the sole purpose of unlawfully gaining access to its riches. And out of them, exactly zero had walked back out.

A... quiet part of me couldn't help but take that as a challenge.

My foot idly tapped against the cold marble floor as I crumpled the pamphlet into a ball and chucked it into a nearby trash-can.

I mean, honestly! It really sent a shiver up my spine, knowing that I was standing above riches comparable to the likes of the fucking Lonely Mountain itself. Mountains made of gold! Seas of rubies and emeralds, of sapphires and diamonds! Vaults crammed full of magical items that had carved their names into the history books! And to think that there was only miles of solid rock, multiple dragons, and more curses than I could count barring my path!

Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

For a future me, that is.

The interior of the Bank was both highly majestic and slightly menacing, which was probably what they were going for. Multiple times larger inside than out, the sterile air and sheer white marble decor gave off a feeling of cold power. Countless goblins lead people in and out of doors lining the vast marble halls, with a hundred or so more goblins sitting at checking booths as they awaited prospective customers.

One such goblin sneers down at me from his perch. "Wizardling. State your business."

Rude, but kinda understandable. Being basically a second-class citizen would do that to a person. I take a deep breath. Getting into character and calling up every drop of xianxia-speak I could remember, I go into an extravagant bow.

"Greetings, sir! This lowly child humbly apologizes for wasting the precious time of..." I glance up at his nametag out of the corner of my eue. "First Bank Teller Gornuk!"

The pompous ass blinks, before visibly preening under my words. Huh. This was already working way better than I thought it would. "As you should, wizardling."

"Yes, time is gold after all! Especially for one as esteemed as a Gringotts Bank employee!" Eck. If I sucked up any more, I'd probably turn into a black hole. "My name is Caster Fay, and the reason I have come to the famous and legendary Gringotts is twofold. First, I wish to inquire about the details of opening my own vault. No place in the world as secure as this one, after all! And second, I am in possession of a decent amount of muggle currency that I wish to-"

"Wizardling, do not think that I don't see what you are doing."

I put on my most innocent smile. "Doing what?"

Gornuk sneers nastily in lieu of an answer, though he(?) is still clearly in a much better mood than before. "While opening a vault requires an amount of money or prestige you almost certainly do not have, a simple lockbox account might be within your means. The muggle currency is an easier matter to handle, with an exchange rate of one galleon per-"

And that, my friends, is how an eleven year old launders hundreds of pounds of currency without being asked any uncomfortable questions.

A/N: Though this is a goofy story, I ain't going to slack on worldbuilding. Rest assured that most 'plot-holes'/unanswered questions have already been given their due consideration and will be answered as time goes on.

Changed euro to pound. Thanks kopol.