She hums, doing some quick calculation. "Most books are one to three galleons, and there's ten textbooks on your list... Cauldron for fifteen galleons, wand for seven... Miscellaneous supplies, around eleven to fifteen galleons... Robes are usually around five galleons... Cloaks can run you nine galleons, and miscellaneous clothing items five to ten... You'll probably want a full wardrobe, which... Probably at least three hundred, even if you're being frugal, but large purchases can be charged directly to your account, if you're doing all your shopping in one store... I'll cover your food, lodging, and a trunk. So - necessities, at least one hundred galleons and a check book, but more won't hurt, and you'll probably want a handful of sickles and knuts for change."

That's a lot of coins.

"Are magical pickpockets a thing?"

"Attempted ones, at least. But any decent purse will be warded to curse and befuddle thieves, and I usually carry mine in an inner pocket of my robe."

She nods, and counts out a hundred and twenty-five galleons in stacks of five, then fills in the edges with sickles and knuts.

"And do I talk to you about a checkbook?" she asks Griphook.

"Yes," he says. "I'll provide you with one linked to your account when we return to the surface, along with your print outs."

"Okay." She shovels the coins into the bag and stands. "I'm ready to go, then."

And out they go. The mine cart is no less inefficient the second time. Griphook gives her print outs, as promised (they look to have been made with a type writer), and a small check book that shimmers oddly in the light.

Professor Reynolds leads her out of the bank, after. "I suppose a trunk should be our first stop."

"Yeah. Be easier to carry the other stuff around in it."

"And I might want to come back here after everything else and take some of the- not-money things."

She nods. "That's reasonable, yeah."

Apparently most thing's that're bigger on the inside are sold at a specialty shop - a little store with a blue front, windows plastered with advertisements for different boxes and purses and trunks and wardrobes. The inside dimensions are a bit unrealistic for the storefront, and the walls are stacked with different pieces of furniture. There's a display of trunks, advertising that you can play around with each to find the perfect fit, and a little informative plaque that the interior capacity is independent of the outside design - you can order whichever ornamentation you want.

The displayed trunks are all plain. The cheaper ones have a simple minor space expansion spell on them; the slightly less cheap ones have shelves with separate space expansion spells. The nice ones, which Professor Reynolds steers her to, have different compartments which can only be switched between while the trunk's closed, which can have their own spells and shelving systems applied to them. Compartment numbers range between 'two' and 'nine', with a note that higher capacity trunks must be custom ordered. All of the trunks have featherweight spells applied, to make them easier to move, though there's a warning that you shouldn't cast shrinking charms on the ones with space expansion or multiple compartments.

(The compartmentalized trunks seem to run about fifty galleons per compartment as a base cost, not including further expansion spells, extra protective spells, or high end decoration.)

She doesn't really care for any of the decorations on offer, but she is going to be more-or-less living out of this trunk, so it needs to be able to fit quite a lot of things. And protection spells. And since it will be a one-time purchase if she gets it right, it makes sense for her to pay for it out of her own vault.

Professor Reynolds can't actually afford the nicest trunks, even as a gift - but she can cast all of the protective and expansion spells herself, and those're a huge chunk of the high end costs. (And she can haggle rather cheerfully with the proprietor of the store about the worth of even a nine compartment trunk with no frills.)

That's helpful, then.

That purchased - she lays the basics on, first, explaining to Ellie what she's doing as she goes. Fire protection, acid protection, water protection, protection from minor wear and tear, from stronger damage (for the trunk and contents)... Anti-theft... One that'll require a password to allow the keys to be used on the trunk... Anti-theft on the keys, themselves - just to prevent someone from taking them, making them teleport back to her keeping takes a more involved spell... A basic charm to make the magical effects of the trunk less noticeable to muggles...

"There's more I can lay, of course, but most'll take a proper ritual tonight."

"Thank you," she says.

"You're quite welcome, Miss Potter."

She picks up the handle of the trunk, testing its weight.

Incredibly light - it isn't blowing in the wind, and it settles well enough, but it's trivial for her to move around.

"Next..." Professor Reynolds says. "I'd suggest wand or clothes, probably? But we could also go for books, or potion supplies, or miscellaneous supplies."

"...Clothes," she decides.

"Alright."

"Madam Malkin's is the usual place for robes - but you'll probably want to get your other clothes elsewhere, especially shoes..."

This turns out to be three shops - Ellie doesn't technically need to get more than the required three school robes, but she can if she wants. The more muggle clothing selection's more limited than a large department store might have, and is - weirdly formal, in some ways, or perhaps more properly weirdly old fashioned. Vests, button up shirts, ties, Victorian-style dresses, and slacks in colorful shades are the more normal things carried; finding even just neutral colors is a bit difficult. Shoes, at least, ever come in black or brown, though there's no sneakers - just boots and dress shoes, pretty much. ("We can also hit an actual mall out in the muggle world," Professor Reynolds says with some amusement. "Gringotts does conversions to muggle currency.")

"I think I would prefer that." She'll get one outfit here, though, just to have something to wear around.

"Understandable. London has decent shopping, at least..."

She can change into the outfit in the store's back room after buying it.

She emerges wearing a violet shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone, and a green vest and slacks.

"Wand now?"

"Wand now," she says. "That's Ollivander's - he's a bit of a character, but harmless."

She leads them over to a dusty little shop (Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.). The inside's full of drawers, and - hums, almost, just beyond hearing.

And, in fact, there's a willowy man with large eyes lurking in the shadows, peering at his new customer. "Fay Reynolds," he says. "You still have your wand, yes? Eleven and a quarter inches, supple, made of ash, phoenix feather core. Good for charm work."

"I do," she says, amused. "I'm here for a wand for a new student - Miss Ellie Potter."

Ollivander turns to peer at her, humming.

"Do the length and materials a wand is made of mean things?"

"Yes," he says, "Though the full lore is rather complex. I only use three cores - dragon heartstrings, phoenix feathers, and unicorn tail hairs - but I use a wide variety of woods."

"A simple gloss - dragon heartstrings are powerful and temperamental. Phoenix feathers are independent and capable of a great variety of spells. Unicorn hairs are consistent and faithful."

"Most students do not actually wish to hear of every wood I use - though I can certainly describe any that seem well suited to you. Ash wands, like Fay's here, are fiercely loyal - they will lose their magic if taken from their first wielder. Ash prefers hearts that match its - stubborn, courageous, loyal, not easily swayed."

"Length, generally, is hard to pin point, but there's a loose correlation to the intensity of ones personality, and it can affect precision of magic. Dramatic or ambitious personalities favor longer wands, and the finest of spell work often calls for a shorter, more precise wand. Wands are generally between eight and sixteen inches - though wands over thirteen inches are rare."

"Flexible wands, generally, indicate more adaptable pairs, while rigid wands are reluctant to change."