At ten o'clock sharp in the morning, a large crowd of wizards had already gathered at the gate of No. 66 Diagon Alley.
The previously vacant shop had undergone a complete transformation. It now boasted a refreshed, elegant look, radiating an aura of grandeur that mirrored the prestige and wealth of the pure-blooded families.
Word had already spread throughout the wizarding community—Moriarty and the legendary alchemist Nicolas Flamel had collaborated to produce a revolutionary wand set. And now, those creations were finally going on sale.
Two shops were selected for the launch: No. 66 Diagon Alley—the beating heart of wizarding commerce in Britain—and No. 88 in the well-known wizarding village of Hogsmeade.
Personnel from the Malfoy family were maintaining order on site, visibly pleased that Mrs. Malfoy had secured the management rights for both distribution outlets.
Although Lucius Malfoy had passed, the Malfoy name hadn't faltered. On the contrary, under Narcissa's leadership, the family had opened two impressive magical prop shops, sparking speculation among some: could Mrs. Malfoy be personally connected to the creators of the wand sets?
Yet the rumors quickly collapsed under their own absurdity. How could a relationship exist between a 12-year-old boy and a 600-year-old alchemist? And with Narcissa Malfoy, now at the peak of her composure and elegance? It was laughable.
Some staff chuckled at the thought—until they saw Narcissa approaching with a sizable group of Ministry of Magic officials. They quickly snapped back to attention, pretending to be absorbed in their work.
Narcissa wore pristine white gloves, placed gracefully over her midsection. Her white silk blouse exuded a refined air, accentuated by the black cloak draped over her shoulders that only made her fair skin glow more luminously.
Her black trousers and white boots gave her a commanding elegance. As she walked, the hem of her coat billowed lightly in the breeze.
Despite the recent death of her husband, Narcissa's radiant appearance revealed no signs of grief—at least outwardly.
But in truth, everything had changed. The manor was disorganized, things constantly going missing. Just days ago, her personal bath towel had vanished without explanation.
Luckily, she had Moriarty's support.
The greedy vultures among the pure-blood elite who once eyed her inheritance now hesitated—thanks to Moriarty's intervention. Their interest in her and the Malfoy estate had all but vanished.
Deeply grateful, Narcissa had accepted Moriarty's offer without hesitation when his letter arrived.
Initially, the wand prop shops were to be distributed among various pure-blood families. But Narcissa had injected a staggering amount of Malfoy gold, far exceeding any other family's investment, thereby seizing the exclusive management rights to both stores.
In her heart, she believed she was aiding Moriarty, increasing the Malfoy family's influence. In reality, she had stepped directly into Moriarty's carefully laid plan.
"Dobby? Dobby!" she called out, and the house-elf appeared in front of her instantly. With a hint of arrogance, she ordered, "Escort Director Scrimgeour to retrieve the 100 wand sets reserved for the Ministry of Magic. Then prepare to open the doors."
Standing nearby was Rufus Scrimgeour, Chief of the Auror Office, easily recognizable by his tawny hair streaked with gray. His piercing eagle-like eyes gleamed behind golden-rimmed spectacles, giving him a stern, vigilant presence.
"Mrs. Malfoy, on behalf of the Ministry, I extend our thanks," Scrimgeour said with a respectful nod.
Narcissa offered a mere glance and a curt nod before turning away.
Scrimgeour bristled inwardly at her aloof nobility but said nothing. His sole purpose was to secure the wand sets and boost the Aurors' combat capability.
He followed Dobby, while Narcissa stepped through the back door and moved to the front of the shop.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Her voice rang out clearly as she extended her arms as if to embrace the crowd. Her white gloves caught the morning sunlight and shimmered faintly. "The wand set is now available for a limited time only! Each set is priced at just 12 silver sickles!"
The crowd surged into the shop, chattering excitedly.
"Wow!"
"Such an affordable price!"
"I'd heard rumors that it was cheap, but this low? Is it a prototype?"
"Don't be ridiculous," someone interjected. "You think the Auror Director would show up if this was second-rate? This is serious business—if something goes wrong, the Malfoys would be held accountable!"
Moments later, a wizard who had just acquired his wand set tried it out on the spot and leapt up with joy.
"This is exactly what I've always wanted! I'm not joking! I'm short and my arms are stubby—I've always struggled to reach my wand under pressure. But now, that's solved!"
He stretched out his right hand, and the wand sprang forth with a sleek motion. He reinserted it into the set and repeated the motion again, flawlessly.
"Haha! The problem that's plagued me for years is gone!" He laughed gleefully, repeating the flicking gesture like a child with a new toy.
Many other wizards nodded in agreement. The wand set was inexpensive, practical, and user-friendly—an irresistible combination.
Potions like Felix Felicis couldn't guarantee success, but now they had something tangible in their hands—and every wizard could have one.
The only downside? The manufacturing speed.
Despite Moriarty generously sharing his crafting method, the pure-blood staff—lacking the magical power of Moriarty and Flamel—were too slow.
The only benefit was their numbers.
Still, even with a hundred staff, their combined output barely rivaled half of Moriarty's. In three days, they had produced just two thousand sets.
At the first limited-time sale, over 400 sets flew off the shelves.
From her vantage point, Narcissa watched the growing crowd with satisfaction. Dozens of wizards remained outside, eager for the next release.
"The next batch will go on sale at three this afternoon," she told her staff. "I'm heading to Hogsmeade—watch over the store carefully. If Daily Prophet reporters arrive, allow them to conduct interviews. But if foreign ministry officials show up—especially from France—chase them away."
With her head held high, she stepped into the shop's fireplace. She tossed a pinch of Floo powder and clearly announced, "Hogsmeade No. 88!"
The green flames swirled around her, and within seconds, she emerged from another fireplace.
"Oh, Sissy, you've arrived?"
A familiar voice greeted her. Narcissa immediately recognized it as belonging to her schoolmate and closest friend, Mrs. Parkinson.
Only a friend from her youth would call her by that nickname.
Narcissa exited the fireplace and glanced around. Wizards were already waiting outside the shop's doors and windows. She smiled in satisfaction.
"Well? Another successful sale?"
"Playing coy, are we?" Mrs. Parkinson teased. "Things couldn't be going better. We sold 500 sets in the first round. Only 500 left for the second round."
She cast a sideways glance at Narcissa, unable to fully suppress her envy. Though the wand sets weren't sold for much, Narcissa, as the manager of both stores, pocketed the majority of the profits.
She had invested the most, so it was only fair. But Mrs. Parkinson couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.
Who knew what other magical tools Moriarty and Flamel would invent next?
If they raised the price in the future, Narcissa's earnings would skyrocket again.
But Narcissa was unfazed by her friend's envy.
"Where are Draco and Pansy?" she asked casually. "Don't tell me you didn't save them wand sets."
"Please. Of course we did. They're at the Elegant Wizarding Robes shop. They're checking out the new robes co-designed with Gilderoy Lockhart."
Narcissa turned toward the door, prompting a quick question from Mrs. Parkinson.
"Where are you going? Let them shop—it's just a few robes!"
"I don't mind my son spending gold galleons," Narcissa said, without stopping. "I just want to remind him that galleons can't shield him forever. I'm taking him to visit Hogwarts… as one of the Twelve Governors."
She pushed open the shop door. The sun was warm, the air still. A perfect day.