Sebastian readily accepted Regulus's demand for specifics. After all, the detailed architecture of Phase Two was the culmination of his grand strategic planning—the very reason he had spent the last eleven years patiently establishing this financial leviathan.
Everything else—the tech investments, the land acquisitions, even the silencing of bothersome reporters—was mere operational prep.
"An excellent decision to prioritize the what," Sebastian conceded, his expression shifting from detached amusement to focused intensity. He dismissed the remains of their elaborate dinner with a swift, subtle wave of his wand, the implements vanishing with a quiet Scourgify.
He then unfurled a massive, heavily reinforced roll of parchment, magnifying it with a Geminio spell until it spanned the entire surface of the table, turning their dining area into a strategic planning board.
Regulus, completely absorbed, immediately abandoned his chair and leaned over the illuminated parchment, captivated by the prospect of hard data and concrete action.
"We begin with the Wizarding Publishing House," Sebastian dictated, his quill already sketching complex flowcharts and organizational branches. "This entity is not a dusty old press; it is a global literary filter—the mechanism by which we test, refine, and select the stories that will eventually fund our physical empire."
He drew two distinct, thick branches beneath the publishing entity's name.
"We must immediately bifurcate the entire operation: The Traditional Press (Physical) and the Electronic Content Incubator (Digital)."
The physical press, Sebastian explained, would follow standard publishing protocol, focusing on established, high-quality, long-cycle works acquired from the Muggle world—the very classics Regulus had been so proud to secure.
But Sebastian's quill hovered over the electronic side, marking it with aggressive, stylized strokes.
"The Digital Incubator is where the magic happens, Regulus. The internet is rapidly expanding. We are not interested in traditional gatekeepers; we are interested in volume, velocity, and virality. We will build the largest, most accessible global platform for fantasy literature, accepting submissions from authors worldwide in dozens of languages."
Sebastian sketched out a complex digital platform, detailing genre divisions that would look bafflingly familiar to someone from the future—adventure, urban fantasy, slow-burn romance, system cultivation, and so on.
"These online writers do not require the polished prose of a literary academic. They require ideas, rapid pacing, and cliffhangers. The entry barrier must be non-existent. The objective is not critical acclaim; the objective is market data."
He stabbed the parchment with his quill. "We will treat our electronic platform as a perpetual, global literary petri dish. Information transmission online is instantaneous. We will measure readership, retention rates, review sentiment, and purchasing power by the chapter. It is the most efficient and low-cost way to execute beta testing on a global scale."
Regulus, who had spent a decade fighting Muggle venture capitalists, immediately grasped the concept.
"A data-driven meritocracy! We let the audience decide which ideas are worth pursuing, rather than relying on a small committee of editors! And because we control the platform, we control the data and the intellectual property rights from the outset."
"Exactly," Sebastian affirmed. "And this platform must expand rapidly into multilingual markets. English is merely a start. We must establish regional editorial and adaptation branches immediately in the lands where we have acquired property. The GMEP in the East needs locally sourced IP that speaks to its own culture."
They engaged in a rapid-fire discussion, Sebastian outlining the pay structures, subscription models, and rapid-fire content schedules he remembered from his previous life, much to Regulus's bewildered fascination.
"I'm constantly astounded," Regulus muttered, lighting a new cigar, his voice thick with a mixture of professional awe and comedic exasperation.
"I have spent eleven years steeped in the Muggle world, mastering their finance, their law, their technology—and you, who spend your days discussing the proper care of Mandrakes with eleven-year-olds, possess a strategic understanding of their future media consumption that is literally a decade ahead of my own. Your 'Prophet' is far too capable, Sebastian! Perhaps he is the true Dark Lord of Information."
Sebastian merely smiled cryptically, returning to the parchment. "The real genius lies in the synergy, White. This is the Glorious Loop of Lies."
He drew a thick, spiraling arrow on the parchment:
Digital Incubator: Provides instant, low-cost IP testing.
Market Validation: Online success generates data points.
Physical Press: High-performing e-books are converted into prestige physical releases, validating their quality for mainstream consumption.
Wizarding Films: The elite few—the proven, print-validated, high-demand literary properties—are immediately slated for cinematic adaptation.
"We eliminate all the risk, White. We make millions off the e-books, millions more off the print runs, and then we leverage the proven demand into an unprecedented cinematic empire. This machine funds itself and guarantees its own creative success."
Regulus, his eyes shining with pure capitalist fervor, inhaled sharply. "A self-funding content engine. Flawless. Now, let's talk films. As per your initial directive, I have completed the acquisition of all specified classical literary copyrights. The expense was enormous, and I had to apply a few Non-Disclosure Compulsion Charms on the lawyers, but every property is now under our exclusive control."
He produced a sheaf of heavy legal documents, dropping them dramatically onto the table. "Here are the contracts. The Tolkien estate—that was a particularly brutal negotiation. But we own it all: The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit."
"We also own the intellectual property rights to The Chronicles of Narnia, the entire Le Guin corpus you requested, and dozens of other foundational fantasy texts," Regulus boasted, tapping the contracts proudly as if they were Horcruxes of Muggle literature.
"Furthermore, I have secured purchase options and first refusal rights on the future works of those select Muggle authors you named—the ones who will supposedly write the 'Twilight' saga and 'A Song of Ice and Fire' based on your vague 'prophetic' guidance. The moment they scribble a viable outline, we own the cinematic rights." He paused, looking genuinely confused. "I really must meet this Prophet someday. He predicts things with alarming specificity, but only in terms of global entertainment revenue."
"Very good, White. Your efficiency is unmatched. You have secured the foundational mythos for our empire. Now, we move to production," Sebastian stated, dismissing the contracts with a glance.
"I have too many options," Regulus confessed, leaning back, the exhilaration of acquisition giving way to the paralyzing fear of choice. "Which property do we launch with? Which one will guarantee The Wizarding Films the necessary prestige and box-office authority? What is the perfect opening shot?"
Sebastian's response was immediate, absolute, and devoid of ambiguity. His eyes held the certainty of a man who already knew history.
"Easy. We launch with The Lord of the Rings."
He quickly wrote a name on the parchment, underlining it three times with violent strokes. "You will find a relatively obscure Muggle director named Peter Jackson. He is our priority, White. Your mission is simple: Secure him at any cost. If he demands an open checkbook, give him an open checkbook. If he requires his own private island for principal photography, start mapping the coordinates. If he asks for creative control, give him creative control—within reason. He will shoot this trilogy flawlessly and give us the cinematic foundation we need."
"This film," Sebastian emphasized, tapping the parchment, "is not merely an investment. It is the declaration of war in the Muggle entertainment world. It must be epic, technologically superior, and financially devastating to the competition. It is our lighthouse."
"Once we achieve massive box-office success, we immediately initiate a multi-platform invasion: merchandise (dolls, life-size armors, novelty wands—the works), animated film adaptations specifically for the youth market—target the young imaginations directly—and, most importantly, a partnership with a dominant Muggle developer to create a world-class video game series."
"Ubisoft," Regulus supplied instantly, his brain already running the numbers. "We invested heavily there earlier this year. Their technology and global reach are formidable. We can assign the IP development to them immediately."
"Perfect. The three pillars—Film, Merchandise, and Gaming—will work in concert. Within a matter of years, we will corner the global fantasy market, and our cultural Trojan Horses will be fully deployed."
Sebastian tossed the quill onto the parchment, the click a final punctuation mark. He stretched, rotating his stiff neck. They had been at the table for hours, mapping out a financial empire designed to last centuries.
"The planning is sufficient for now, White. The Muggle world is now adequately accounted for. You have your marching orders."
He yawned, covering his mouth with a negligent hand. "We are real Slytherins, remember? Patience. We must establish ourselves as the undisputed kings of Muggle fantasy before we introduce our actual source material."
Regulus, still gazing intently at the charts, looked up, the anticipation thick in his eyes. "The ultimate goal. The wizarding world itself. When do we bring a story about us to the big screen? Do you have an author in mind who is ready to be packaged as a global phenomenon?"
Sebastian leaned back, the image of a certain vain, incompetent, yet unbelievably charismatic wizard flashing across his mind. The final choice was a stroke of comedic genius that perfectly summarized his entire modus operandi: using dazzling illusion to mask a dangerous void.
"Indeed. When the time is right, after The Lord of the Rings has solidified our reputation, I will introduce you to a wizard who is perfectly suited for the task. His hunger for Muggle fame is… legendary. His writing perfectly captures the superficial glamour the Muggles will adore, and his sheer, breathtaking audacity ensures he will be the perfect, distracting figurehead for our expansion."
Sebastian smiled, a predatory curve of the lips, and delivered the name—a comedic, yet strategically essential, betrayal of the magical community.
"You must remember this name, White. He is waiting in the wings, polishing his latest autobiography and selecting his new signature color. The author who will sell the magical world to the Muggles is none other than… Gilderoy Lockhart."