Chapter 3: The Former Glory of the Gaunt Family!
Snape did not pause, walking straight through the bronze gates, passing another set of silver gates, and entering the hall.
Tom looked up, surveying the magnificent hall. "So impressive..."
This Gringotts truly lived up to its reputation as the designated bank of the wizarding world.
Gringotts was impressive, but the one thing Tom couldn't understand was...
Why would the Wizards of the magical world let a group of Goblins, who were 'as greedy as a dragon for treasure,' manage their bank?
For any country or organization, the 'treasury' is an absolutely core department.
They wouldn't even feel comfortable keeping it in the hands of their own people, yet they hand it over to another race to manage?
Moreover, these Goblins have a history of rebellion more than once; they're simply not trustworthy.
But for a new student who hasn't even started school yet, these thoughts were premature.
If anything goes wrong, old Dumbledore will step in...
Snape led Tom straight towards the oldest Goblin at the main counter.
"Good morning," Snape's voice was low and measured. "We are here to confirm an inheritance. This is Mr. Riddle, a descendant of the Gaunt Family."
He stepped aside to reveal Tom behind him.
"Gaunt?" The old Goblin narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Tom.
"According to regulations, confirming the bloodline inheritance rights of the Gaunt Family requires a magical verification. Please follow me."
He waved a hand towards a slightly younger Goblin nearby.
That Goblin, named 'Raffa,' immediately hopped down from his high stool and walked over with short steps.
"Raffa will take you to the verification chamber," the old Goblin instructed, then lowered his head to bury himself in his ledger again.
Raffa, without a word, made a 'please' gesture and turned to walk down a narrow passageway.
Snape followed closely behind.
They arrived at a plain wooden door.
Raffa pushed the door open. Inside was a stone chamber with a stone table in the center. On the table lay a small silver knife and an ancient piece of parchment.
"Simple," Raffa said. "Drip your blood onto this inheritance contract. If the parchment accepts you, then the Gaunt Family vault will open for you."
He pushed the small silver knife towards Tom.
Tom used the knife to prick his finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the parchment.
The parchment absorbed the blood, emitting a faint glow, and the Gaunt Family crest appeared.
Raffa nodded, collecting the items.
"Identity confirmed," he announced. "Please follow me to Vault 710."
He turned and led them along another passageway.
Soon, a set of tracks and a small mine cart came into view.
"Get in," Raffa commanded, hopping in first.
Tom didn't hesitate, bending down to sit in the cart.
After he sat down, the cart gave a violent jolt and shot forward at a startling speed.
It raced along the intricate tracks, sometimes plunging steeply downwards, other times swerving sharply.
It was a complete replica of a roller coaster, and one with absolutely no safety restraints.
Tom gripped the cart tightly, afraid of being thrown out.
The entire journey had him jumping with fright.
Throughout the whole process, Snape remained utterly motionless, seemingly completely unaffected.
*Screech*
The cart slowed with a harsh scraping sound, stopping before a huge circular iron door.
The number '710' was engraved on the door.
Raffa hopped down, walked to the door, and tapped it lightly with his fingers.
A series of complex clicking sounds came from behind the door, and it slid open silently inwards.
The interior of the vault was spacious but almost completely empty.
Only in the very center of the floor were a few small, scattered piles of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.
Snape stepped into the vault, his gaze sweeping over the bare walls and the few small piles of coins.
Snape remarked with a touch of lament, "It seems the glory of the Gaunt Family is long past."
Tom asked curiously, "Was the Gaunt Family very wealthy before?"
These background stories were never mentioned in the original books, and couldn't possibly have been.
"Enough to buy half of Diagon Alley."
"What?!"
Tom's jaw dropped open wide enough to swallow a whole egg.
Diagon Alley was the sole commercial center of London's magical community, and one of the top in all of Europe. How much would half of Diagon Alley be worth?
This wasn't just an ordinary wealthy family anymore...
Truly worthy descendants of Salazar Slytherin. The Gaunt Family was once rich enough to rival a kingdom...
"Then, Professor Snape, how did the Gaunt Family... Holy shit!"
"What's wrong with you?" Snape turned back, puzzled.
"Nothing, nothing." Tom laughed awkwardly.
Tom had originally wanted to ask Snape how the Gaunt Family had ended up like this.
He suddenly remembered: if he, this Tom, could inherit the Gaunt Family's legacy, then the previous Tom could also have inherited the Gaunt Family's legacy, couldn't he?
Voldemort! Damn your ancestors! Where's my money?!
"The amount stored here, if used sparingly, should roughly cover your expenses for the seven years of your education at Hogwarts."
He paused, his gaze shifting to Tom. "I suggest you withdraw no more than one hundred Galleons per year. That should be sufficient for your regular annual expenses without appearing overly frugal or drawing undue attention."
"I'll follow your advice, Professor Snape." Tom nodded.
He scooped up a few handfuls of coins, stuffing them into his pockets until they were bulging.
Afterwards, the two left Gringotts.
Snape led Tom, navigating familiarly through the crowd. Their first destination was "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions."
A short, plump Witch with a beaming smile, Madam Malkin herself, was measuring a boy with a tape measure.
"Hogwarts new student, dear?" she greeted warmly as soon as Tom entered, her eyes lingering on Tom for a second before shifting to Snape.
When she clearly saw Snape's face, her smile noticeably stiffened.
"Yes," Snape said. "A standard set of Hogwarts robes. All the necessities."
"Right, right, of course," Madam Malkin hurriedly nodded, ushering Tom towards a footstool at the back of the shop. "Stand up here, child."