Old Mr. Foley winked at Moriarty. "I glimpsed you from afar in Diagon Alley two years ago. Mr. Lockhart couldn't stop talking about you—you know how he is—he claimed you were the greatest treasure he'd ever unearthed."
As he spoke, he strolled over to Soldaya and seated himself beside her, flashing a kindly smile toward Moriarty.
The Foley family's monopoly on the book industry had granted them a position of unmatched influence. As long as the family remained stable internally, they were untouchable. However, the family had dwindled. The only heir had fallen in the First Wizarding War, leaving the elderly Foley as the sole survivor—alone, widowed, and without an heir.
Witnessing Moriarty's ascent, Old Foley was eager to align himself. With his connection to Lockhart, he believed Moriarty would accept his gesture of allegiance—at least, to some extent.
Foley's intentions struck a chord with Moriarty. Their eyes met, and a knowing smile passed between them.
"We meet again, Mr. Moriarty," said Garrick Ollivander, representative of the esteemed Ollivander family. He settled beside Old Foley, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Moriarty. "Two years have passed. Have you bonded well with your wand?"
"She's my closest comrade," Moriarty replied, placing his cedar wand on the table. "I've noticed wizards spend excessive time unsheathing their wands—an inefficiency that disrupts casting speed. Have you ever considered this flaw?"
Ollivander shook his head. "Every wand I've crafted is designed to be feather-light and drawn swiftly."
"I'm not referring to the wand itself," Moriarty explained. "I'm talking about a related alchemical accessory—the wand set."
He leaned in slightly, his tone becoming more technical. "It's a simple construction, really: crafted from the same wood as the wand, reinforced with mithril for structure, embedded with a magic-conducting core material, and infused with over a dozen enchantments like the Permanent Sticking Charm and a high-grade Memory Spell. Most crucial of all, it requires a touch of refined alchemical craftsmanship."
He gestured fluidly as he spoke. "It could cut wand-drawing time to two seconds—or less."
Ollivander hastily pulled out a parchment and quill, transcribing every word Moriarty said.
He frowned slightly. "A brilliant idea—worthy of Merlin. Did you know some of my ancestors tried to develop similar wand accessories? The aim was to protect the wand and speed up access, but the results were always unsatisfactory. Do you know why?"
"The cost," Moriarty answered knowingly. "Both financial and intellectual. The economic cost is easily handled—what's a few Galleons to us?"
He glanced around the gathering of pure-blood elites.
"But knowledge—that's the real bottleneck. Crafting a wand set requires not only a wandmaker, but also a skilled spell theorist, a material mage with expertise in magical components, and most critically—an alchemist. And not just any alchemist, but one well-versed in runes and Latin script. They are rare and highly sought after."
Ollivander nodded solemnly. "Master alchemists have been a rarity for centuries."
"There's a window of opportunity now," Moriarty said. "Nicolas Flamel will be joining Hogwarts next year."
Lucius Malfoy's brow arched. "And your source? The wizarding world's been buzzing with that rumor, yet I'm a Hogwarts governor and I've heard nothing official."
"It's accurate," Moriarty replied coolly. "I swear on Slytherin's name that Nicolas Flamel is coming. And as you well know, Mr. Malfoy, your authority means little to a man of Flamel's stature. So your concerns are, frankly, irrelevant."
He didn't bother sugarcoating the statement. Lucius narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Moriarty pressed on.
"With Flamel, the greatest obstacle is removed. Now, to build the wand set, we'd need several key figures. Mr. Ollivander—" he nodded to the wandmaker, "—Professor Horace Slughorn—"
He turned to the rotund wizard reclining in his chair, slowly sipping wine.
"I believe I should address you as Professor? If memory serves, you taught Severus Snape, Slytherin's current Head of House."
Horace raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He had been avoiding Moriarty throughout the evening, wary of the young wizard's immense potential. He'd once been wrong about Tom Riddle and had since aligned with Dumbledore. He had no wish to entangle himself again.
To his dismay, Moriarty's focus had landed squarely on him.
"When do I get my invitation to the Slug Club?" Moriarty asked, smiling.
Horace choked on his wine and coughed violently, waving his hand in refusal. "Heavens, no," he stammered, red-faced. "You'd be a real dragon in my koi pond."
He tried to deflect, laughing nervously. "Speaking of Severus—an exceptional Potions Master. I'm sure he knows every material required for wand-set crafting by heart. He, along with Flamel, could offer incredible insight."
"No, no, no," Moriarty interrupted, tapping the table for emphasis. "We cannot conflate Hogwarts with us. This is the purest gathering of noble bloodlines in Britain, not the headmaster's office. The wand set project is my vision, and it is to be our industry—run by the pure-blood families."
Cornelius Fudge, who had been looking increasingly anxious, visibly relaxed at Moriarty's statement. If Hogwarts wasn't involved, then neither was Dumbledore.
Moriarty laid out his plan.
"Mr. Ollivander will supply the wood materials. Professor Slughorn will provide structural and magical core components. I will personally enchant each wand set. Nicolas Flamel will offer alchemical expertise. This is my proposition: three pure-blood houses shall lead the effort, while the Twelve School Governors will officially request Ministry cooperation in Hogwarts' name. We'll outfit the Ministry's Aurors with wand sets."
Gasps rippled across the table. No one had expected Moriarty to link the project to the Ministry of Magic.
And anything tied to the Ministry meant profit.
Fudge leapt up. "What about Dumbledore? Won't he oppose you using Hogwarts' name?"
The pure-bloods stared at Fudge like he was an idiot. He blinked, then realized: Dumbledore wasn't Minister of Magic—yet. Therefore, this wasn't his concern.
And Moriarty was betting on Fudge becoming the Minister.
Fudge wasn't a fool. He understood that equipping Aurors with wand sets would skyrocket the Ministry's reputation. He only had to ensure Moriarty was rewarded accordingly.
He glanced nervously at the other pure-bloods. They looked like hungry wolves, circling him, waiting to devour a piece of the prize.
Lucius's faction grinned, clearly pleased. It was as if Moriarty had handed them a treasure chest and said, "Help yourselves."
The Dumbledore-aligned faction—Arthur Weasley's side—looked less enthusiastic, paler even.
Augusta Longbottom spoke up. "Mr. Moriarty, how can you be so sure Flamel will contribute alchemical knowledge to this endeavor?"
"Because he's Nicolas Flamel," Moriarty said with a confident smile, "and I'm Moriarty." He offered no further explanation.
Ollivander chuckled. "If he won't accept payment, perhaps we can entice him with... other benefits."
Lucius snorted. "I won't hand over Malfoy family interests to a Frenchman."
The others nodded in agreement, but Moriarty had an answer ready.
"If I were you, I'd offer Flamel distribution rights—perhaps through Beauxbatons. He may not want them for himself, but the school might. And that brings me to my next proposal."
The twelve governors leaned forward.
"A joint education initiative," they all said in unison.
"Precisely," Moriarty nodded. "Everyone knows that Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons are Europe's elite institutions.
Globally, there's Ilvermorny in the U.S., Koldovstoretz in Russia, Mahoutokoro in Japan, Uagadou in Africa, Castelobruxo in Brazil, and several others.
Hogwarts is the crown jewel. It's time we started thinking globally."
He leaned back and sipped from his glass, letting his words sink in.
JOIN MY PATREON TO READ ADVANCE 50+ CHAPTERS
patreon.com/HACKDWORLD