Smile.

"All right.  Why don't we talk to Ms. McGonagall about your school shopping."

Talk they do: McGonagall tells Clover about Diagon Alley, in London, where most every young British wizard goes for their school supplies, and where Clover in particular can go to withdraw some of her parents' money from her Gringott's vault.  If Clover is to go to school at Hogwarts, the most sensible plan would probably to take a Muggle plane (here McGonagall introduces the term "Muggle" as a less-formal British term for nonmagus) to London, and stay in Diagon Alley in the days leading up to the start of term.

"An ordinary plane?" Clover says quizzically.

"Indeed.  Wizards have some ways of traveling long distances, but it's becoming more and more convenient to just use Muggle transportation, at least for particularly long trips."

She nods.  "Well, I do like the idea of spending some time in the magical world before the start of term, and I don't want to leave all my shopping to the last minute... but I think I should like at least a few days to pack, and say my goodbyes, before I go haring off to magical Britain."

"That's quite reasonable.  And I'm sure I've trespassed upon your hospitality quite enough for one day."

McGonagall gives them a telephone number where she can be reached.  Goodbyes are said.

Clover doesn't actually have very many goodbyes to say before haring off to magical Britain.  But she promises to write her mother regularly, and packs plenty of clothing (Muggle clothing, now, and it's suddenly so easy to think of perfectly ordinary things as Muggle things, as if she'd been waiting her whole life to be reminded of the difference).

It's only a few days, before she talks her mother into calling McGonagall back.

She's eager to be off.

An ocean is crossed.

McGonagall answers basic questions, and has some introductory pamphlets for Muggle-raised students.  Wizardry is wanded magic and witchcraft is wandless magic.  Core classes taught at Hogwarts are Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and History of Magic.  Hogwarts is divided into four Houses and you're sorted into your House on your first day.  Quidditch.  Et cetera.

(She is going to be sorted into Slytherin, she decides.)

The plane lands, and they make swiftly if sleepily for a hidden magical pub in the heart of London called the Leaky Cauldron, where McGonagall buys dinner and rents a room for both of them.

Mmm; zzz.

Gringott's first, the next day.  Clover attempts to charm the goblins; the goblins are not charmed; McGonagall explains quietly that goblins often don't like wizards very much because of the ongoing legal and social persecution of goblins by wizards, and not to take it personally, which Clover hadn't been doing in any case.  Clover idly considers ways of convincing the goblins she meets that she's sympathetic to their plight, but something, maybe past-life experience, makes her suspect it's not the sort of thing she can do in a single conversation.

Her vault.  McGonagall hands her her vault key, tiny and fragile-looking, and she unlocks the incongruously heavy-duty lock built into the center of the circular door, and slowly, elaborately, the door breaks up into pieces and retreats into the wall.

Stacks and stacks of gold and silver and bronze coins, faceted gems and bars of metal, a few locked treasure-chests, and shelves full of coin-pouches.

She puts on her childhood-wonder face and steps in, slowly, as if transfixed.

(If she knows her adults, McGonagall's probably not going to let her withdraw as much as she wants.  She'll have to be delicate here.)

To her right, there are a number of elaborate stacks of silver coins, all different heights, each topped with a differently-colored faceted gem.  She reaches, slowly and visibly, toward the emerald on top of the highest stack.

McGonagall clears her throat.

She startles guiltily and turns around.  She does a very good startle-guiltily-and-turn-around.

In the process of turning, her left hand happens to spin out a little, and knock over seven of the elaborate stacks of coins.

Coins are scattered; gems clatter to the ground.  But in her left hand - the one that McGonagall's eyes weren't on - she's palmed one of the other gems, that was at about waist-height.

She can't blush on command, but she can look sheepishly between her still-outstretched right hand, and McGonagall's sardonic grin, and her own shoes.

"I think it would be wisest to start with perhaps one hundred galleons for school supplies," McGonagall says with pointed amusement.

She ducks her head a little and produces a sheepish grin.  (Stuffing her hand in her pocket would be too obvious, so she's keeping the other gem palmed - it's even easier than palming an ordinary coin.)

"Yes, all right," Clover says, putting a little playfulness into her own voice to match McGonagall's tone.  "May I borrow a coin purse?"

"You may, or you may take one of yours from the vault."

She takes one and jingles it, keeping her face childishly coy.  "Will this fit a hundred galleons?" she asks skeptically.

"Most Wizarding coinpurses are enchanted with some extra space on the inside."

She sticks her hand in, far enough for it to look like her left arm ends at the elbow, and giggles.  She roots around inside, scooping out the contents.  (The pilfered gemstone is, of course, left inside; she pulls the pouch off her arm with her other hand, and then holds it by the base, so it can't hang too heavily and reveal it's not empty.)

She keeps up a neutral-cheerful expression as she counts out the coins she pulled out, then starts adding more.  "What else can they do?"

"Many magical coinpurses will make it easy to find and take whatever object you're looking for, if you put your hand in with a clear idea of what that is, though they have trouble with objects very much larger than coins."

(She sticks her hand in with the intent of palming the gemstone again as she drops in another coin, pulls it out, puts it back in with the next coin.  Good.)

She finishes counting out her withdrawal, keeping up her face as she does so.  (She's gotten better at not letting expressions drop from her face when she's done talking, if that might clue her interlocutor in to her emotional reactions being faked - this being a skill which did not survive the mysterious transition from past to present lives wholly intact.  She's pretty sure her mother caught her out that way once or twice, when she was younger.)