Diagon Alley hummed with the usual chaos.
Lucien sat at a tiny table outside the ice cream shop, one hand working a spoon through sea-salt vanilla while the other flipped open the day's Daily Prophet. The front page hit like a Bludger: "A Revolutionary Creation! 'Instant Language' Officially Launches!"
Half the spread was pure propaganda—features, how-to guides, purchase points, and that sweet little line at the bottom: Hogwarts students qualify for Ministry of Magic subsidies.
He'd bought full-page ads in every major paper in Britain. Publicity done. Distribution locked. Now it was just a matter of watching the Galleons roll in.
The first wave would be pure hype. Muggle-borns and half-bloods would snap it up fast—phones had already primed them. Plenty of people bought two copies on day one: one for work, one for everything else. Once the novelty wore off, sales would settle into a nice, steady climb.
But the real money wasn't in the devices themselves.
Lucien had designed the whole system so each sheet only bound to one friend or one group chat. Want to add someone new? Buy another sheet. Start a new group? Another sheet. Six people in one chat created half a dozen possible combinations. The paper would keep selling forever—wizarding data plans, basically.
He shook his head and smiled into his ice cream. Getting drunk on money already. Once the Jade Record loan was paid off, he could stop obsessing over every last Galleon. Wealth was just… stuff.
The Hogwarts subsidy had been an easy conversation with Fudge. Lucien simply explained that bankrolling student purchases would look fantastic on the Minister's record. A product that actually changed how wizards lived? Rare as dragon eggs. Supporting it in schools showed the Ministry was modern, forward-thinking, and on the right side of progress. Throw in a couple of glowing Rita Skeeter interviews and Fudge practically signed on the spot. The man loved the idea that the Ministry's gold bought his glory.
Instant Language wasn't staying in Britain, either. The Beauxbatons demo had done its job. France, Germany, and the rest of Europe were launching at the same time.
Lucien's spoon paused mid-scoop. Madame Maxime had simply waved a hand and ordered a full set for every single person at her school—professors included. Free. One per witch or wizard.
Hogwarts, by comparison, looked downright broke.
Not that it was anyone's fault. Hogwarts only had the British Ministry behind it. Beauxbatons had half a dozen countries. Durmstrang was swimming in pure-blood family money. If you squinted, Hogwarts was the scrappiest of the three big schools—kids actually sold their class potions and plants to help cover expenses.
Still. With Dumbledore running things, Hogwarts could probably take on the other two combined and win on reputation alone.
Money, though? Different story.
Lucien licked the last of the ice cream off his spoon and stared at the headline again.
Maybe it was time to throw some real gold at the old castle.
Hell, if he played it right, he might even score a seat on the Board of Governors while he was at it.