A mere one percent transaction fee meant almost nothing to most shop owners. Nearly all of them gladly accepted the card machines Gringotts provided free of charge and even promoted the system on their own initiative.
All except one.
Garrick Ollivander stubbornly insisted on one hand holding a wand, the other holding Galleons. His shop did not see much traffic anyway, and Gringotts eventually stopped bothering him.
Sirius and Harry left carrying towering stacks of notebooks. They were slightly disappointed not to have seen Tom. On such an important opening day, surely he would be present?
He was not.
Tom was at the Ministry of Magic, negotiating an even larger deal.
...
The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, along with senior officials, had received early access copies of WhatsApp. This had been arranged through Mrs. Greengrass. A carefully placed courtesy.
Inside the spacious conference chamber, news of Diagon Alley's frenzy had already reached Fudge. The atmosphere toward Tom had noticeably shifted.
Everyone in that room could see it coming.
WhatsApp would become as indispensable as Floo powder.
Floo powder had sustained entire families in comfort for generations. WhatsApp would do the same for the Riddle name.
And that was before considering the bank card system.
Academic brilliance. Powerful backing. And now, unprecedented financial acumen.
Even at his age, Tom Riddle had become a central figure in Britain's magical world.
"Mr. Riddle," Fudge said warmly, almost ingratiatingly, "might the price of these notebooks be… adjusted? And the refill sheets as well. The Ministry's consumption will not be small. Our budget is already strained. With these added expenses, I fear we may struggle to pay staff next year."
Fudge deeply regretted his recent generosity. He had upgraded Auror equipment. Increased funding to Hogwarts due to international student exchanges. Distributed protective amulets among senior staff.
They were already dipping into next year's budget.
And now WhatsApp appeared.
It was not optional. Instant communication would drastically increase efficiency.
Tom sighed softly.
"Minister, this is a modest enterprise. Pressing me too hard would put me in a difficult position."
He was already earning less than he could have.
After crushing raw material costs, the Professional Edition yielded eighty five Galleons in gross profit per unit. The Standard Edition barely ten.
If materials were purchased at full market rate, even the Standard Edition would exceed forty Galleons in cost.
Fudge dangled bait.
"The Ministry will not forget your contribution. I can guarantee an application for a Second Class Order of Merlin."
Tom looked unimpressed.
"Save it. If it is not First Class, I am not interested."
The officials collectively stiffened.
They had not expected him to be selective.
Fudge tried persuasion again, even asking Mrs. Greengrass to assist. She offered a few polite words but made it clear she would not push hard against her own side, then gracefully excused herself back to the Department of Magical Transportation.
Negotiations dragged until late afternoon.
At last, Tom conceded.
The notebooks would be sold to the Ministry at thirty percent off.
The refill sheets at fifty percent.
The margin on consumables was substantial.
But Tom could not set a precedent of deep discounts. The British Ministry would not be the last large organization seeking bulk orders. If he lowered the bar too far now, raising it later would prove difficult.
Fudge was not entirely satisfied, yet faced with Tom's unwavering stance, he agreed provisionally. Final quantities would be determined after internal assessment.
Before adjournment, Fudge extended another invitation.
"Mr. Riddle, there is a Ministry gathering tonight. Many prominent figures will attend. An excellent opportunity to expand your connections. Care to join us?"
Fudge wanted proximity. Influence. Perhaps future donations to the Ministry's coffers.
Tom declined without hesitation. He had no interest in mingling with mediocrities while several young witches awaited him at home.
Fudge's expression darkened briefly.
Then Tom added casually:
"Minister, if funds are tight, I might suggest something."
He flicked a Galleon into the air, catching it as it rang softly.
"The goblins of Gringotts are… exceedingly prosperous. Consider their curse breaker divisions alone. Who knows how many relics and treasures they have extracted from ancient ruins."
"For the Ministry to better serve wizardkind, perhaps they should demonstrate appropriate support?"
The words landed precisely where intended.
Fudge's eyes brightened.
"You are quite right. The licensing fees Gringotts pays have not increased in decades. Perhaps it is time to renegotiate."
Tom knew the hook had set.
The poorer the goblins became, the harder they would push the card system to keep gold within Gringotts.
And ultimately, that would benefit him.
With a faint smile, Tom concluded the meeting and exited the chamber.
In the grand hall, he scattered a handful of specialized Floo powder and stepped into emerald flame.
Moments later, he emerged at home.
The young witches had nearly completed preparations for the evening feast.
A celebration.
For the first triumphant day of WhatsApp's domination.