After striking a deal with Mrs. Longbottom, Loren took Hermione and prepared to leave. In business he was a dabbler—memories from a prior life helped, but only so far. As matriarch of an old house, Mrs. Longbottom was much better at that game. She urged them to stay, but Loren was set on going. It was their family's reunion day; outsiders shouldn't intrude.
Back home, Loren wrote separate letters to Gringotts and to the Weasley family. The Gringotts letter asked about the practicalities of buying a shop. The Weasley letter said that he and Hermione would visit the day after tomorrow to discuss opening the store.
With that done, he turned back to studying the Vanishing Cabinets. He could already move along his personal marks, but his end goal was a fixed passageway like a true Vanishing Cabinet.
The next morning, replies arrived. Gringotts wrote that the shop procedures were settled. The Weasleys' letter first thanked him for looking after their kids, then warmly invited them to visit. After reading both, Loren tweaked his plan: he'd go to Diagon Alley that morning to finish the shop formalities, then visit the Weasleys tomorrow to talk cooperation.
"Hermione, come to Diagon Alley with me—got a few things to handle," he called, tucking the letters away.
"Okay!" Hermione answered, hands speeding up as she flipped through her book.
"No hurry. Finish what you're reading," Loren said, settling on the sofa to wait.
About ten minutes later, Hermione came into the sitting room. Noting she'd changed clothes, Loren promptly praised her—when your girlfriend changes, you praise her. The thought popped into his head, and he went with it. Judging by Hermione's pleased smile, it was useful knowledge indeed.
Their fireplace wasn't registered on the Ministry's Floo Network; they were too young for that. But that didn't stump Loren. With a few modifications, the hearth now ran on his parents' Floo line. In a flash of green, they stepped out into Diagon Alley. For Hermione's first "hard" Floo to the Alley, she didn't have Harry's kind of mishap.
They landed in a shop that sold magical materials. As Loren cleared soot from both of them with his wand, he told the proprietor to box up the inventory. The man had sent Loren a Christmas sample earlier; Loren would repay the courtesy by clearing some stock. With Loren's hoarder's instincts, more magical materials were always welcome. Soon the owner, smiling broadly, brought out the parcels. Loren glanced over the haul and tossed him a Gringotts-standard money pouch.
By now Loren's name had spread among certain Diagon Alley shopkeepers. He was generous, and when he liked a thing, he bought out the lot. In China, Loren thought wryly, the owners would put him on an altar—customer as their new god.
He didn't head straight to Gringotts after that, but strolled the Alley with Hermione. Some shopkeepers who'd sent samples at Christmas had impressed him; he went to buy their stock outright. Shopping seemed bred into women; before long, Hermione was sparkling with a cluster of lovely trinkets and carried an armful of beauty products—beauty potions, in wizarding terms.
While she was buying, Loren noticed something: not a single witch besides Hermione had entered the store. When the clerk finished packing, he asked, "Why no other customers today?"
"Business in beauty potions is poor now," she sighed. "You're our first customers since we opened this morning."
The answer piqued him. This had once been one of the Alley's most popular shops for witches, specializing in beauty potions.
"What happened?"
Seeing no rings on their fingers, the clerk relaxed and explained, "A ring started circulating out of Hogwarts. If a witch or wizard wears the ring for their gender, they become more beautiful—or more handsome. Everyone's wearing those now…" She caught herself and backpedaled. "But those rings can't compare with our potions. Our potions truly make you beautiful—the rings are self-delusion."
Watching her grind her teeth at the Beauty Rings, Loren only chuckled and led Hermione out. Cutting off someone's livelihood was like killing their parent; better to leave early.
Just then a sentence flashed through his mind: the thing that defeats you isn't always a competitor—it can be a cross-industry strike from above.
Soon he and Hermione emerged from Gringotts, and a goblin led them to the storefront Loren had purchased. They stopped at 93 Diagon Alley. Loren couldn't help smiling at fate's little joke—this was the future site of the Weasley twins' joke shop.
Inside, with the goblin guiding them, they inspected the premises. The prior owner had left it spotless. Loren was satisfied. He handed over a money pouch; the goblin passed him the deed and departed. Loren tucked the deed into his robe. From that moment, the shop was his.
He raised his wand and began laying the interior. Brilliant lines of magic streamed from the tip, weaving a complex pattern in the air. Finally he tossed up a fist-sized gem. It flared brilliantly, then vanished along with the lattice of spellwork.
Hermione had watched at his side. At first she could follow; the deeper he went, the less she understood. She finally pulled the latest Daily Prophet and read while he finished.
When he was done, an idea struck. He flicked his wand and several people appeared—experimental subjects he'd taken in Knockturn Alley, now brainwashed and strengthened. He would station them in Knockturn Alley. Rare materials and dangerous curiosities wouldn't be sold openly in Diagon Alley; most of that trade was illegal and belonged on the black market.
His small world was still sparse and needed curious creatures to fill it. Collecting such beings would be their first task. He granted them access to the small world so they could deliver more quickly. He wasn't worried about whether they could handle it; he'd armed them to the teeth. Nor was he concerned about the small world's safety. It lived inside his personal storage and was wholly under his control; he could revoke permissions at any time. Their alchemical gear didn't just boost their combat strength—it also monitored thoughts and could seize the body. If they betrayed him, the equipment would detect it immediately and annihilate the soul, leaving the body a puppet to keep serving under alchemical control.
After assigning tasks, he waved most of them out the back door, then stopped one, remembering something to hand over—recordings he'd taken earlier, when his own mental state had been shaky. They'd almost been forgotten in storage; seeing the newspaper in Hermione's hands had reminded him. He gave the man instructions and sent him off.
He was certain the Daily Prophet would prize the footage. And with Mrs. Longbottom's keen business nose, she wouldn't miss the chance either.
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