Chapter 3.2- Doom Days

The Potter finances were, to put in bluntly, a shitshow. After confirming that the vault he has was the main potter vault that contained all the inheritance he’d received from his parents and ancestors, he resisted the urge to facepalm and curse James Potter. In the fan fiction community, which Doom definitely had not been a member of when he was younger, it was thought that the Potter’s were a wealthy family and even depicted in some continuities as having more gold than fucking Midas himself. He’d hoped for a similar reality here, but it turned out to be far from the truth. There was enough gold to easily cover his schooling and other expenses for as much as three decades but after that, he’d quickly find himself strapped for cash.

This would have been acceptable as Doom had no shortage of ways to make something as ephemeral as money, but it became annoying when he remembered from Riddle’s memories that the Potters had been one of the wealthier families in Wizarding Britain. Of course, the Goblin had taken no small amount of joy in educating him on how James Potter had essentially drained the family’s finances in prosecuting the war effort. What a foolish endeavour, he thought with no small amount of scorn. With the knowledge that he was going to have to work for his own wealth, he sat to begin negotiations with a master goblin. For one, he knew he had something that would be of value to the miserable creatures.

“Basilisk venom. How much would you pay per ounce?” He asked lightly, even as he matched his words with a firm stare into the creature’s eyes. He knew that they interpreted such gestures as a challenge, but he did not care enough to abstain and was much too prideful to even fake being subservient to miserable bootlickers like this lot.

“It depends on the potency of the substance” The goblin, Sharphorn said with a snarl on its face that did not leak into its tone at all. It was almost like they were discussing the weather while surely plotting how to most effectively kill the other.

“Potency? Do you take me for a fool, Goblin. I would only offer the highest grade of the substance available, and anything less should not even be called basilisk venom in the first place. Now name your price Goblin.” He said with a scoff. Basilisk venom tended to be classified in grades. There were only three grades of the substance. The first was from creatures that had yet to develop the fatal sight that would kick in at about three weeks old. The ‘venom’ was far from such, only capable of causing sickness in small amounts and death when a human was pumped with gallons of the stuff. The second grade came shortly after the deadly sight awakened, but before the creature learned to see for true. At any point after this, the creatures were much too dangerous to rear. Even blinding them was only a temporary fix as they could regenerate their eyes in a matter of hours.

A/N; Trudging along