— — — — — —
"Wait a second…"
Tom looked at Cassandra's pretty face, half-expecting to see a smug little tail wagging behind her.
"You're telling me," he said slowly, "you sold two thousand regular editions and one hundred deluxe editions at double the price—in just a few days—at Ilvermorny?"
Cassandra tilted her chin up, lips curling with a grin that was harder to suppress than a Killing Curse. "Well, not all of them were double price. At first I was cautious—sold them at your price. But by the end of lunch break, everything I had was gone. That's when I realized you'd priced them way too low. So I raised the price gradually… and here we are."
She said it in an offhand tone, but her voice was practically begging for praise—like, "Go on, tell me how brilliant I am."
Her strategy was surprisingly sharp. She'd started by gifting a few professors copies to get their attention, then sold some to the popular students in each house to spark interest. From there, she used her own small "marketing team" to spread the buzz to parents.
By yesterday, she had completely sold out and was sitting on over a thousand prepaid orders. The money was already in her account.
Tom was speechless for a moment.
Sure, her methods were nothing special by Muggle standards—but in the wizarding world, this was practically a case study in modern marketing.
And American wizards, being the rich lot they were, had snapped up the Deluxe Editions faster than the regular ones. Cassandra had made a killing—possibly even more profit than he had.
Tom didn't feel jealous, though. A deal was a deal, and she'd earned it fair and square.
"You realize," he said with a sigh, "your sudden restock order completely wrecks my production schedule."
"What schedule? Profit is the only schedule that matters," Cassandra shot back instantly. When she saw he wasn't eager to send more, she got anxious. "Come on, Tom, what does it matter where you sell them? I can cover all of North America's demand by myself! You've got to strike while it's hot—what if someone copies your idea?"
Tom waggled a finger. "First of all, no one on this planet can copy The Codex. Not without Muggle technology—and even then, they'd need years. Second…" His eyes gleamed faintly. "If someone did try to steal it, I can promise they wouldn't live to see the sunrise."
He didn't mind competition in business, but if someone threatened his trial—that was a death wish.
Watching her panic made him chuckle. "Relax. I'll pull an all-nighter and make up the stock for you."
"Now that's more like it." Cassandra's face brightened into a triumphant smile. "Remember, the more the better. Send extra notebook pages too. I'll transfer the money this weekend—give me your Gringotts account number."
"Oh, and for anything I sell above your list price, I'll split the profit fifty-fifty. But you'll have to come get it in person during the holidays. Bye!"
She rattled it all off in one breath and cut the connection before he could respond.
"…So thoughtful, huh?"
Tom blinked, then laughed softly. Making him pick it up personally—what a clever excuse to lure him to North America.
He wondered if he'd even have time over Christmas.
Still, her business instincts impressed him. Having someone like Cassandra to handle commerce in the future would make his life a lot easier.
Of course, they weren't that close yet. "Partners" was a generous term—more like uneasy allies with mutual benefit.
If it ever came to it, he mused, maybe he'd have to sacrifice a bit of charm to secure her cooperation.
With that thought, Tom headed for the Forbidden Forest. He found a quiet spot, slipped into his pocket dimension, and began checking his inventory.
After some scrounging, he managed to put together three thousand regular editions and six hundred Deluxe ones. Luckily, the Acromantulas' nutrient production had stabilized, and the Whomping Willow's yield had improved with better potions and soil conditions. Otherwise, no amount of sleepless nights would've been enough.
"Usaki!"
Once everything was packed into a single enchanted bag, Tom called out.
Two minutes later, the dragon swooped down from the clouds.
Usaki was now seven meters long, her aura far stronger than before—starting to resemble a fully evolved Rayquaza. Tom mostly let her roam free in the skies these days, calling her down only when needed.
She landed with a rumbling growl, nudging his cheek affectionately. Tom smiled and ran a hand over her gleaming scales, then handed her the bag.
"Take this to Newt in North America. And bring back the raw materials on the return trip."
Usaki gave a low hum of acknowledgment, circled him twice, then shot upward and vanished into the clouds.
Tom watched until she was just a speck, then sighed and turned back toward his workbench.
He'd borrowed stock meant for the French and German shipments, which meant he had to replace it fast. Everything else would have to wait until he'd caught up on production.
While mixing potion ingredients, Tom touched the mental palace in his study space.
Out of the five million Galleon target, one fifth was already complete. Which meant that, in just a few months, he'd earned over one million Galleons.
That number alone was enough to drive most wizards insane. Even old families like the Greengrasses, with centuries of wealth and a spotless record, would struggle to make that kind of money in a year. As for ordinary purebloods—or individual wizards—forget it.
In truth, the ones most envious of Tom weren't even wizards, but the goblins of Gringotts.
The outside world had no idea how much he'd really made, but Gringotts knew. Tom Riddle's vaults were scattered across several countries, each one stacked to the ceiling, and the amount kept growing at a terrifying pace.
Still, Tom wasn't satisfied.
His plan had been to finish the entire task by year's end. At this rate... it was almost October. Yeah, no chance.
But if things kept progressing steadily, it wouldn't take that much longer.
"Need to find another angle…" he muttered, speeding up his hands as he worked.
---
By October, Hogwarts had cooled down. The students had traded short sleeves for long ones, and some were already wearing thick sweaters. The Quidditch players especially—flying around in this weather without bundling up was basically asking for a cold.
Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's team captain, had officially gone mad.
For the past few years, they'd failed to win the Cup for one reason or another, and this year…
This year was Wood's final year at Hogwarts. If he didn't win now, he never would. His teammates understood exactly what that meant, so they didn't complain about his hellish training schedule—four days a week on the pitch, no matter the weather.
This weekend was no different. They'd started at dawn and kept going until ten in the morning before Wood finally called it a day.
The twins trudged back toward the castle, dragging their Cleansweeps behind them like corpses.
"Wood's lost it," Fred groaned. "If we don't win this year, I swear he's gonna repeat a grade."
"Would Dumbledore even let him?" George asked.
"No way. McGonagall would skin him alive first. Even if she wants us to win."
"Still, we've got a real shot this year. Beat Slytherin and it's basically in the bag. Plus, Harry's got that 'secret weapon.'"
"Yeah, too bad Wood won't let him use it in practice. I really wanna see what—"
"George! Fred!"
The twins turned toward the voice and spotted Tom sitting by a round table near the courtyard window, gesturing for them to come over.
"I've got a business deal," he said.
The twins exchanged a glance. Their eyes lit up in perfect sync. Without a word, they skipped the door entirely and climbed out the window, sprinting across the grass to sit beside him.
"What kind of business deal?" Fred asked eagerly.
Tom didn't answer right away. He tapped the stone table, and a tray of tea and pastries appeared. Gesturing for them to help themselves, he lifted his cup and took a calm sip.
"I heard you two have been tinkering with a few inventions?" he said casually once they'd eaten a bit.
George squinted. "Let me guess—Ginny told you."
Tom nodded. "She mentioned many joke objects. Sounds impressive."
"Of course," Fred said proudly, rubbing his hands together like a born salesman. "Want to prank your roommate? Looking for a little joy in your homework-filled life? Or maybe you'd like to overhear some juicy gossip between the girls' dorms? The Weasleys' line of prank products will never let you down!"
He leaned in, grinning. "So, boss—how many would you like?"
George jumped in immediately. "I recommend the Skiving Snackboxes. Buy two packs and we'll throw in a free Dungbomb!"
Tom shook his head, smiling slightly. "I'm not here to buy."
Both twins deflated on the spot.
"Then what's this 'money-making' thing?" Fred muttered.
Tom set down his cup, eyes gleaming. "I'm not buying from you. I'm asking you to sell for me. My Elaina Magic Workshop isn't just selling Codex anymore—it's expanding into beauty products, and the sales are already pretty good."
"Pretty good" was an understatement. Female customers had shown him just how terrifying buying power could be. Zabini was run ragged managing orders, and Tom had even brought in a second helper—Penelope Clearwater.
Penelope had the grades and precision for potion work, especially in a field as detail-oriented as this one. She was only in her sixth year but already worked at a graduate level. And she was genuinely happy to help Tom.
No one likes being just a pretty face. So lately, she'd spent nearly all her free time helping brew potions, keeping their stock stable.
George frowned thoughtfully. "So you want us to sell our stuff in your shop?"
He and Fred traded a look, both clearly tempted. Their dream had always been to open a shop in Diagon Alley someday. Getting a trial run under Tom's brand could give them a head start.
Tom nodded. "That's part of it. But I've also got another idea—using my Codex to help you sell directly to students."
Making products was nothing compared to making a platform. The Weasley twins' prank gadgets wouldn't bring much profit on their own, but Tom wanted to use them as an experiment—to kickstart the wizarding world's first form of online sales.
Well, not online exactly. The tech wasn't there yet. But… it wasn't too far off.
Anyway, let these two become the first wizarding Amazon-Merchants.
"Can you give us some details?" George asked, curiosity sparking.
Tom opened his codex and demonstrated, showing them exactly how it would work. By the end, both twins were practically vibrating with excitement.
"This is brilliant! Way better than advertising in the Daily Prophet!"
"Yeah, now let's talk about your fees," Tom said, closing the notebook with a sly grin.
Both twins froze. A chill ran down their spines.
They had a very bad feeling they were about to get completely cheated.
.
.
.