"Mr. Riddle, welcome. I am Famur, Director of the European Region."
On the thirty eighth floor of the Gringotts global headquarters, a goblin greeted Tom with remarkable enthusiasm.
It was not that North American goblins were particularly polite. Nor was it that Tom's fame or reputation was so overwhelming that a regional director would personally receive him with a smile.
It was purely the power of money.
One thousand Galleons had already gone to the manager of Gringotts in Diagon Alley. Another three thousand sat quietly on the polished floor beside Tom's chair.
Goblins were both easy and difficult to deal with. With enough gold, most obstacles became manageable.
Fortunately, Tom's trial required him only to earn five million Galleons. Whether he spent them afterward did not matter. Otherwise, after completing the task, he would certainly have found a way to reclaim every last coin from these so called guardians of wealth.
"Famur, I am here to discuss a business opportunity."
Tom lounged casually, idly flipping a coin between his fingers. It was not a Galleon, but a coin cast from pure gold. Famur's gaze rose and fell with each flash of metal.
"What business? How much profit?"
"Incalculable. If the returns were minor, I would not have come to headquarters. I could have discussed it with Billers in London instead."
Tom leaned forward slightly, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of temptation.
"This is a venture that could influence the entire wizarding world."
Greed flickered in Famur's eyes, then shifted into suspicion.
He was aware of Tom's growing reputation. The young wizard was known internationally now. But reputation and power had little to do with making money. Business required something else entirely.
"Mr. Riddle, please be direct. Our time is valuable."
Tom placed a silver card on the desk.
Its surface was engraved with intricate patterns, along with the Riddle family crest.
A dragon. A phoenix.
The dragon was shaped in the likeness of Rayquaza. The phoenix resembled the mythical firebird of ancient legend.
The symbolism was simple.
Tom Riddle. Bearing the posture of dragon and phoenix. A figure destined to dominate his era.
"What is this?" Famur frowned. The runic patterns were beyond his comprehension.
Goblin craftsmanship excelled in metalwork and enchantment binding, but wizarding alchemy was a different discipline. The overlap was limited.
"Gringotts frequently handles Muggle currency. You should be familiar with bank cards."
"This is a bank card designed specifically for Gringotts, along with the necessary supporting devices. With it, witches and wizards will no longer need to carry heavy pouches of coins or endure tedious currency exchanges. A simple swipe will record the transaction and transmit the amount directly to Gringotts."
"Then, once a month, Gringotts settles the accounts. No daily inconvenience. No wasted time."
Compared to modern Muggle banking, it was somewhat less efficient. But it aligned with wizarding sensibilities. Gringotts was seen as a vault keeper, not an institution with authority to withdraw funds at will.
If transactions were instantaneous transfers, many wizards would reject the convenience outright.
There was an alternative as well.
Tom had designed a stored value card. Wizards could deposit funds into Gringotts in advance and spend freely afterward.
Most importantly, the stored value card could be anonymous. It could be gifted.
A gift card system.
A concept refined in his previous life. Retail chains had built empires on it.
As Tom finished explaining, Famur's eyes seemed to gleam like polished Galleons.
He understood perfectly how convenient Muggle bank cards were. If implemented successfully, wizarding commerce would surge dramatically. Gringotts was not merely a bank. It had investments in numerous sectors.
They had considered a magical equivalent for nearly a decade. Technical barriers had ultimately forced them to abandon the project.
And now a student had solved it.
"Mr. Riddle, name your price," Famur said, heat in his voice. "Fifty thousand Galleons. Agree, and the sum will be transferred to your vault immediately."
Tom smiled faintly.
"Do not insult my time, Famur. I am Muggle born. I understand predatory financial systems far better than you imagine. You think this pocket change will satisfy me? With fifty thousand Galleons, I could convert it into explosives and reduce your Gringotts tower to rubble."
Famur's expression stiffened. He had hoped to take advantage of inexperience and found instead a negotiator who knew the game intimately.
But goblins were not ashamed of opportunism.
He replaced his embarrassment with another smile.
"My mistake. Commercial negotiation relies on leveraging information and technical asymmetry. Surely you understand."
"Spare me the justifications."
Tom's voice remained calm.
"My terms are simple. The equipment and cards are provided free of charge. For every transaction, a handling fee of one percent. I take eighty percent of that fee."
"Eighty percent? That is outrageous!"
Famur nearly leapt from his chair.
"My authority extends to ten percent at most. Even if you supply the devices freely, we must persuade merchants, cultivate usage habits, invest in infrastructure. The initial costs are substantial."
Tom's expression did not change.
"But once successful, the revenue will be enormous and perpetual. Consider the volume of Galleons circulating globally each day. Even one percent, with my share, becomes an inexhaustible stream."
"And most importantly…"
He allowed the words to linger.
"With bank cards, Galleons never truly leave Gringotts. You will no longer endure the daily irritation of watching vaults emptied and coins carried out of your halls."
Famur inhaled sharply.
His estimation of Tom rose several tiers instantly.
The boy had identified the deepest weakness of every goblin.
Profit was desirable.
But hoarding gold within Gringotts was paramount.