Sirius's voice, magnified by the Amplifying Charm, rolled like thunder through Diagon Alley. The chaotic crowd fell abruptly silent. Heads turned in unison, searching for the lunatic who had just shouted such an outrageous demand.
A plump wizard scoffed loudly. "Five hundred copies? Do you even know the price? What do you think this is, buying scrap parchment for your children?"
Tom had released two versions of the "WhatsApp" notebook.
The first was the Standard Edition. One hundred pages. Basic send and receive functions only. Twenty Galleons per copy.
The second was the Professional Edition. Though identical in thickness thanks to Undetectable Extension techniques, it contained three hundred pages. It also supported live video communication, provided the recipient owned a Professional Edition as well.
Both editions included group chat functions. Standard notebooks supported up to ten participants. If even one member used the Professional Edition, the limit expanded to fifty.
And then there was the true masterstroke.
Professional users appeared in golden script and radiant profile icons on others' notebooks.
A permanent, shimmering badge of superiority.
A symbol of status.
Five hundred copies, even if all were Standard Editions, amounted to ten thousand Galleons.
Some doubted. Others suddenly recognized him.
"Is that Sirius Black? The wrongly accused hero?"
"It is! He's put on weight. Cleaned up. Nearly didn't recognize him."
"The Black family's always been obscenely wealthy. Five hundred copies might actually be pocket change."
Sirius ignored the murmuring crowd. He flashed Lucius and Draco a grin that looked less friendly and more predatory.
"You idle Slytherin parasites," he drawled. "Stay away from my godson. If you so much as look at him wrong, I'll hex Narcissa along with you."
Lucius trembled with rage, wand rising instinctively, but Draco quickly grabbed his arm.
"Potter," Draco sneered, retreating, "can you do anything without hiding behind someone else? I'll be waiting at the usual place when term starts."
He dragged his father away before matters escalated further.
Harry shouted after him, "Try not to run crying to your father this time!"
When the Malfoys disappeared into the shifting mass of people, Sirius turned back.
"What was that about? And what's this 'usual place'?"
Harry briefly explained their weekly duels. Sirius burst into delighted laughter, clapping him on the shoulder as he headed toward a smaller adjoining room beside the shop.
"Hit him hard. If you need advice, ask me. I'm an excellent duelist."
Harry nodded, though privately he thought of Tom. Somehow, Tom's notes always made more sense than any professor's lecture.
At the doorway, a shop assistant greeted them with a bright smile and ushered them inside.
A major client.
If she secured this sale, her commission alone would surpass a month's wages.
Unfortunately, the young boss had established rules.
She cleared her throat apologetically. "Mr. Black, due to production limits, our owner has restricted purchases to one hundred copies per individual. This is to accommodate group buyers."
Sirius waved dismissively. "Fine. One hundred it is. Ten Professional Editions, ninety Standard. Same ratio for the rest. I'll pay now. Issue the VIP card."
"No problem. Would you like to apply for a bank card? It makes transactions significantly more convenient."
"A bank card?" Sirius blinked.
The assistant launched into an enthusiastic explanation.
Harry grasped the concept quickly and nodded eagerly. "I'll have one. Carrying coins everywhere is heavy. My pockets always sag."
There was another reason.
He was not particularly quick with arithmetic.
A goblin representative from Gringotts handled the registration. After verifying vault identities and passwords, he handed each of them a sleek card and instructed them to activate it with their magic.
Sirius placed the glowing numbered card onto the machine and swiped.
14,000 Galleons.
Just like that.
"That's it?" Sirius asked, fascinated. "What stops someone else from using my card?"
The goblin puffed his chest proudly. "Mr. Riddle's proprietary magical signature authentication. Gringotts has tested it for nearly two months. We have not successfully bypassed it once. You may use it with confidence."
Harry's glasses nearly slid off his nose.
"That's also Tom's invention?"
"Ah," the goblin smiled thinly, "Mr. Potter is a classmate of Mr. Riddle, is he not?"
The implication was obvious.
Tom had cleverly synchronized the release of "WhatsApp" with the rollout of the bank card system.
Anyone paying by card received fifty sheets of special WhatsApp paper as a bonus.
The devices themselves were not the true profit.
The real money lay in consumables.
Traffic.
Refill sheets were priced at one Galleon for fifty pages.
Affordable for casual use. But for businesses, offices, and families with heavy communication needs, consumption would skyrocket.
And those costs were rarely paid by individuals.
Institutions would bear them.
Across Diagon Alley, other shops partnered with Gringotts to promote card usage. Some offered five percent discounts for card payments. Others gifted small tokens.
Shop owners liked it.
No more worrying about employees miscounting or skimming coins.
Shop assistants liked it.
No more exhausting mental arithmetic.
And somewhere behind the scenes, unseen yet omnipresent, Tom Riddle quietly tightened his grip on the magical economy.
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