— — — — — —
"Hah—!"
Inside the manager's office at Gringotts, Doug, the head of Gringotts UK, lit a cigar. The scent of cedarwood and cream hit his tongue, but he had no mood to savor it.
The moment two goblins were strung up at the entrance of the Astra Abyssum Guild, Doug knew things had gone very wrong.
As business partners, the goblins actually understood Tom's way of doing things better than most. More greedy than goblins, colder than vampires, more brutal than werewolves.
Internally, opinions of him were nothing but curses. And yet they still had to pinch their noses and trail behind him to make money. They had never stopped trying to crack his payment system, but now they couldn't even understand the runes he used, let alone copy them. That goal was still a distant dream.
Still, things had been fine up to that point. With profits high enough, they could always turn a blind eye. During a period of rapid growth, every contradiction was easy to bury.
But once Tom founded the Astra Abyssum Guild and siphoned off a massive share of their capital, the cracks split wide open.
In just one month, thirteen Astra Abyssums had appeared. All of them could bypass Gringotts' financial system and trade internally.
And when that number became thirty, sixty…
When they spread across the world, it would be a second, even larger Gringotts.
Going from monopoly to competition. How were goblins supposed to accept that?
But before they could even make a move, two goblins let their greed get the better of them and joined the raid in Knockturn Alley. Not only did they alert the enemy, now Doug had to face Riddle's interrogation.
What kind of cursed situation was this?!
Just as Doug was desperately calculating what price might be enough to calm Riddle down— BOOM!
The door was blown apart.
Smoke rolled in as Tom walked through it. He frowned slightly when he saw Doug standing there blankly, cigar still in hand.
"Living it up, huh? Davidoff Nicaragua Robusto?"
"You actually know that?" Doug blurted out without thinking. How could a kid wizard possibly recognize something like that?
Tom glanced at the ash ring and snorted. "Didn't even age it for a full month before smoking it. Figures. Pearls before swine. No matter how good something is, it turns filthy in goblin hands."
Nicolas never went easy on Tom just because he was young. His teaching had been thorough and merciless. A former royal mage, master of vast wealth, over six hundred years old.
Aristocratic etiquette, antique appraisal, the hobbies of high society elites. He knew them all inside out. Some trends had even started with him. And he passed everything on to Tom without holding back.
At first, Tom hadn't wanted to learn any of it. He thought it was useless. Strength was all he needed.
But Nicolas insisted. 'If you want to crush those pure-bloods completely,' he said, 'you have to beat them on every level until they have no excuse left.' So Tom learned, more or less.
Doug's face flushed bright red. Tom had hit the mark. He really hadn't aged it for long.
Still, Doug quickly recovered and forced out a smile, as if the shattered door and broken planks on the floor didn't exist.
"Mr. Riddle, you certainly arrived quickly."
As he spoke, he slid a stack of documents forward, smiling ingratiatingly. "This is all a misunderstanding. Ful and Bice are indeed employees of Gringotts, but this was absolutely not Gringotts' intention. It was entirely their own initiative. Personal actions."
"They owed enormous gambling debts and acted out of desperation."
"If you don't believe me, I've even prepared witnesses. Veritaserum, the Imperius Curse, you're free to verify however you like."
"Mr. Riddle, this is truly just a misunderstanding. To show our sincerity, Gringotts is willing to offer one hundred thousand Galleons as compensation. We hope you'll be magnanimous and let this matter end here. We can continue our pleasant cooperation."
Tom didn't answer. He flipped through the documents, nodding occasionally.
"Hm. Looks pretty convincing. Didn't expect goblins to gamble too. Learned something new today. Fine, I believe you."
Doug's face lit up with joy. Before he could say anything, Tom snapped the folder shut. Blue flames ignited in his hand, and in the blink of an eye, the documents were reduced to ash.
"But so what?"
The boy smiled faintly, and Doug's heart went cold.
What did that mean? Was he still going to press on? Should I offer money?
"Doug, you've misunderstood one thing." Tom leaned forward slightly. "In a wizard's eyes, goblins are never seen as individuals. You are a race. And Gringotts represents all goblins."
"I don't care who it was, or why they thought they could mess with me. All I know is this. Goblins did it. Gringotts people did it. And you think tossing me this little bit of money is enough to send me away?"
"If you weren't still somewhat useful to me, I would've ground you into dust already."
Under that icy killing intent, Doug stumbled backward in terror. By accident, his hand hit the emergency button.
Wee-oooWee-ooo
The once-silent corridor instantly erupted into chaos as a squad of goblins in full armor charged in, spears and swords raised.
Aside from their obsession with gold, goblins also had a natural talent for forging weapons and magical artifacts. The most famous example was the Sword of Gryffindor, but countless other treasures appeared throughout legends and myths.
The armor they wore had terrifying defensive power. Even spells barely left a mark.
"Stop! Riddle! What do you think you're doing to Doug!" The goblin at the front raised his sword and shouted.
Tom frowned and slapped his hand downward.
An immense force slammed into the space itself. Gravity was rewritten in an instant, and fine downward ripples appeared in the invisible air.
Thud! Thud!
Every goblin collapsed to the ground. The pressure kept increasing.
In Doug's horrified stare, amid the goblins' shrill screams, every last one of them, armor included, was crushed into a grotesque slurry of flesh and steel fused together.
"So noisy…" Tom muttered, eyes lowered. From start to finish, he never once looked back.
Wrapping magic in pure will to form a crushing pressure field was not hard for a century king. The real difficulty was pushing it to that level of precision and force.
That required both flawless mechanics and absolute power. Miss either one, and it would fail.
"Um... you're not qualified to negotiate with me. Get me the old bastards at headquarters. Don't waste my time."
Doug swallowed hard and shakily pulled out a communication ledger to contact Gringotts headquarters. Very quickly, three ugly goblin heads appeared on the small sheet of parchment. One of them asked impatiently, "Well, Doug? Is it handled?"
"It's only just beginning, Famur."
Tom chuckled softly. The ledger floated upright on its own, facing him. When the three old goblins saw the boy's strikingly handsome face, their expressions darkened instantly.
"..."
Famur sighed. "Riddle, name your terms. Don't go overboard. You know this wasn't Gringotts' intention. Those two idiots acted on their own."
"I'm no lion," Tom said lightly, rolling his fingers. After a brief pause, he bared his fangs like a venomous snake. "I just want... ninety percent of Gringotts UK's profits, and full management control."
".....!"
"This... This year's?" Famur asked, clinging to hope.
Tom grinned. "Every year. Every year I'm alive. Or rather, every year Gringotts exists."
"Put it this way. From now on, British Gringotts has nothing to do with you. I'll leave you ten percent to pay employee wages."
"NO WAY."
Famur's face was red with anger, and it took their ugliness to another level. The other two goblins weren't much better.
But at the same time, they were confused. How did a human become greedier than them? Damn it—even they weren't this ruthless when making demands.
"Riddle, just kill all the goblins in Britain," Famur said harshly. "We can't afford that price. This time, we admit defeat."
"Alright." Tom nodded and slowly extended a hand toward the trembling Doug.
"G-Grandpa! Grandpa, save me!" Doug screamed hysterically, his back pressed against the window, ready to jump at any second.
"Wait! Riddle! Is this how you negotiate?!"
One of the old goblins finally broke down. "Stop, don't touch my grandson! That condition is reaaly impossible for us to accept!"
"You've misunderstood something." Tom didn't lower his arm. He simply smiled at the ledger. "This isn't a negotiation. This is a notice. If you don't agree, it just means a bit more trouble for me. I'll make some extra puppets and replace goblins altogether."
"You have ten seconds. Choose your path."
"You'd really kill them? Riddle, are you trying to make an enemy of the entire wizarding world?"
"You're not qualified to represent the world. Even if you were, I wouldn't mind." Tom shrugged. "Grindelwald has invited me more than once, you know."
"Hmm... Tell you what—I'll sweeten the pot for you."
---
In the end, Tom walked out of the office with a magically binding contract in hand, his steps light and unhurried.
Impossible terms? Germany, Bulgaria, Austria, and several other countries' Gringotts branches were already under Grindelwald's control. Their functions hadn't changed, but not a single Galleon of profit would ever make it back to headquarters.
And he wasn't taking Gringotts for a pile of pathetic Galleons. He wanted its money to strangle the Ministry of Magic. With Fudge having blown a massive hole in the Ministry's finances, all Tom had to do was tighten the tap. A minister who couldn't even pay salaries had any reason to exist?
As for the entire magical financial system, that could wait. Once the Astra Abyssum Guilds spread across all five continents and a complete, mature system was in place, he would act. Moving too aggressively now would only slow his expansion. It wasn't worth it.
Night fell.
Tom returned to Hogwarts loaded with spoils. He told the sisters about his day, chatted briefly with Lady Greengrass about tomorrow's plans, then lay down and went to sleep without a care.
Cornelius Fudge was about to see the darkest day of his life.
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.
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