Chapter 3.3- Doom Days

“If you had Grade Three Basilisk Venom, human then we would be willing to pay market value for it.” He returned.

“An actual number, Goblin?”

“50 galleons per ounce” He said, and I broke down into mocking laughter. I had no idea how much the real thing would go for since Grade Three basilisk venom was basically unheard of in the market, but I, or rather Tom, did know that Grade Two Basilisk venom had sold for about 30 galleons per ounce according to boasts from a certain Macnair that he’d gone to school with. If it had been possible to milk the still living basilisk for its venom without running the risk of dying in a dozen painful and distinct ways, then maybe Riddle would have had a very different introduction to the wider wizarding world outside of Hogwarts instead of having to work at Borgin & Burkes.

“You jest, Goblin. Or do you take me for a braindead fool like one of your species. I will be accepting nothing less than 500 galleons an ounce after that insult”

“You must be the most foolish human of them all, Harry Potter. 500 galleons for a single ounce of venom? Surely your father’s decision to not marry his cousin has had to have some sort of advantage. At least one would have thought so, but here you stand as empty headed as the average pureblood. 100 galleons per ounce and no more.”

“100 galleons? I wipe my arse with 100 galleons” I said, standing up and sending a small bucket of golden coins on his wide desk spilling to the floor.

“475 or nothing”

“No one would pay that much. Especially since we don’t even know if demand would exist or ho much demand we could get. I would not spend thousands on venom, no matter how rare, when there exists little hope of making a profit”

“Oh you lying creature. The only reason I’m even selling it to you creatures and not down in Knockturne is because I know precisely what you will be using the venom for. You will not be selling a single drop and will instead be using all of it in your very profitable curse breaking business so let us not deceive ourselves.”

“I have no idea what you speak of, human. But 175 galleons per ounce is more than reasonable”

“Look me in the eyes” I said, thrusting my face in his direction, and crinkling my nose like I had smelt something foul even if the goblin’s perfume did actually smell quite pleasant.

“Pay attention to these words and the truth in them- I will be accepting nothing less than 450 galleons per ounce of venom. Anything else, and I will walk outside and have Borgin host an auction where you know I will get a better price. Your tombs can remain closed for decades while you waste thousands of galleons on paying curse breakers.” I said to him, and then stood up straight.

“Do we have a deal, Goblin”

“Aye wizard” He said, stretching out a clawed hand for me to take.