Chapter 3
After the owl had eaten and drunk its fill, Sainz picked up his pen and began composing his reply.
Dear Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,
I am very glad to receive your letter. I am honored to be admitted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I am willing to attend. Unfortunately, I do not know where your school is located or where I should go to purchase the required materials. If possible, I hope to receive your guidance.
Also: I sincerely hope this isn't an elaborate joke.
Sincerely,
Sainz Autumn (Minko)
Once the owl had flown off with the letter, Sainz took the opportunity to show the Hogwarts acceptance letter to Dean Brulie. The elderly man squinted at the parchment, reading it word by word with the gravity of someone decoding an ancient scroll. His conclusion was swift and confident: "A crude scam. A rather amusing joke, if I may say."
Sainz hadn't expected anything less. He'd shown the letter to the dean not out of worry, but because it was simply what a twelve-year-old child should do. At least, outwardly. For now, Brulie was still his legal guardian, and Sainz was content to play along with the role expected of him. Besides, anyone who had read Harry Potter knew that Hogwarts had extensive experience dealing with Muggles and guardians skeptical of magical letters.
That being said, anyone who had truly read Harry Potter—and thought about it critically—would recognize a glaring issue in the story's worldbuilding: economics.
The official exchange rate between British pounds and gold Galleons was said to be five to one. That was problematic. If the exchange wasn't strictly limited, any Muggle financial institution, armed with even modest capital, could flood the wizarding economy and effectively buy out the entire magical world.
There were rumors, of course, that the goblins at Gringotts imposed strict exchange caps, but this only led to further questions. Could gold Galleons be exchanged for raw gold bars? If so, even with restricted currency exchange, one could simply purchase gold with pounds and swap that gold for Galleons—creating a feedback loop that would destabilize the entire wizarding financial system.
From what Sainz could tell, the wizarding world was not entirely cut off from the Muggle one. High-ranking Muggle officials were certainly aware of the magical community's existence, which meant there had to be some coordination. Still, it appeared that wizards were alarmingly ignorant of just how explosive the Muggle economy had become.
Although the magical world's systems were backward and immature in many ways, their combat power—particularly individual force—was not to be underestimated. The dynamic was similar to certain real-world geopolitical relationships: your money might be able to buy everything I have, but I won't let you get close enough to do so. And if you try, I'll use force to stop you.
For minor interactions, sure, trade was welcome. But if you tried to upend the system, the answer would be clear: force, suppression, and denial. Sainz thought of the historical Jews—wealthy, brilliant, and ultimately scapegoated. The wizarding world might be similarly paranoid, if provoked.
For now, Sainz was an external anomaly—a child with significant capital and insider knowledge. Whether or not he could wield this power would depend entirely on the rules of the magical world.
He also suspected that another reason for the wizarding world's financial blindness was cultural. Pure-blood wizards had always kept their noses in the air, ignoring Muggles. And the Muggle-born or half-bloods who had crossed over into their world likely didn't come from wealthy families. The small amounts of cash or jewelry they brought with them wouldn't have made waves, economically speaking.
But the foundations were already shaking.
The wizarding economy was built on the gold standard. And while the British pound had also once been backed by gold, modern financial systems had moved far beyond that. With fiat currency, leverage, and derivatives, the pound was no longer just a piece of metal—it was a weapon.
Wizards didn't seem to understand this. They bought a loaf of bread with one Galleon and thought no further. They didn't understand that one Galleon in the right hands could be parlayed into ten through leverage, or even a hundred. There were far more pounds in circulation than there was gold to back them. If Galleons were freely exchangeable for gold, the wizarding aristocracy might soon find themselves weeping into silk handkerchiefs, unsure of even how to do that with dignity.
Thankfully, Gringotts was controlled by goblins, and goblins were sharp-eyed creatures with an obsessive, almost sacred, devotion to wealth. If anyone could protect the magical economy from financial exploitation, it was them.
While waiting for his escort from Hogwarts, Sainz quietly withdrew £300,000 in cash and gold bars—an amount equivalent, by official rates, to roughly 60,000 Galleons. It wouldn't last forever, but it would be enough for a while.
Two days later, the owl returned.
Mr. Sainz Autumn,
We are pleased to know that you have chosen to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To address your concerns, we have assigned a representative.
Professor Aurora Sinistra, of the Astronomy Department, will escort you to Diagon Alley to purchase your learning supplies.
Please note: Hogwarts offers scholarships for young wizards experiencing financial difficulty. Eligible students may apply.
Sincerely,
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
Sainz raised an eyebrow when he saw that the title "Deputy Headmistress" had been bolded and enlarged. A subtle jab, no doubt, at his earlier error of calling her "Headmistress."
"As expected of Professor McGonagall," he thought with a chuckle. "I wonder if she'd secretly enjoy being promoted."
Just then, a deep, female voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You must be Sainz Autumn—the boy laughing strangely while reading a letter."
Sainz looked up to see Dean Brulie entering the room with a dark-skinned woman in her forties. She wore a wide-brimmed Mexican straw hat and an air of quiet authority.
"Sainz," said the dean, "I must apologize to your teacher. I originally thought the magic school thing was just some absurd hoax. But it seems I was wrong. This is Professor Sinistra, from Hogwarts, here to take you to school."
He turned toward the woman. "Yes, this handsome Oriental boy is Sainz Autumn. There isn't a child in this whole building more worry-free than him. I'm happy he's going to a fine school… er, that is, the school you mentioned. Yes, an excellent institution, very old and prestigious... though for the life of me, I can't remember its name right now. Old age, you know—my memory's not what it was."
The old man tapped his temple, chuckled warmly, and strolled off as though nothing had happened.
It was obvious he'd been hit with a Confundus Charm or something similar. But Sainz couldn't show that he'd recognized it, so he kept his face neutral and his tone polite.
"Hello, Professor Sinistra. Thank you for coming to escort me into the magical world. Um… Dean Brulie seemed very familiar with you, but just the day before yesterday, he insisted your letter was a scam."
Professor Sinistra smiled.
"Very perceptive, Mr. Autumn. Very perceptive. You're right—we didn't know each other before today. It was a simple Confundus Charm. You'll understand more once you're at Hogwarts."
She extended her hand. "I'm Aurora Sinistra, Astronomy professor. And I must say, for someone who's never had formal exposure to magic, you're remarkably calm."
"Thank you," said Sainz. "Well, I've read the acceptance letter. Before we go, should I apply for a scholarship? I'm not sure whether you accept pounds sterling."
He took out a pre-packed envelope containing £1,000 in crisp notes.
Sinistra's eyebrows rose slightly.
"I have to admit, Mr. Autumn, you've surprised me. I didn't expect you to be... well, so well-prepared."
Sainz smiled modestly. "I'm an orphan. If I don't have a few ways of surviving, I'd be in serious trouble."
Something flickered across Sinistra's face—sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. Her voice grew softer.
"Since you've got funds, it'll make things simpler. Come on, then. Follow me."