This was why Alan had been feeling a bit troubled recently; despite having considerable wealth, he still felt the looming shortage of funds. Cutting expenses was out of the question, so he needed to find other ways to increase his income. He had originally planned to wait until after graduation to start a business, but circumstances were forcing him to plan ahead.
A month after Alan returned to No. 277 Diagon Alley, he fell into a routine in his alchemy laboratory. Sitting at his workbench, he spread out a large piece of parchment featuring a half-finished drawing of an alchemical instrument. He fell into deep contemplation, staring at the blueprint.
He was carefully considering the direction of his future enterprise. Since he was going into business, his first choice was naturally the alchemical products he knew best. He couldn't let the prime commercial location of Diagon Alley go to waste. As he had joked with Madam Primpernelle, he intended to open a company here.
For a viable business, one had to balance supply and demand. Rather than focusing on everyday retail items, he was more inclined to deal directly with the Ministry of Magic. If he could become a stable supplier for the government, it would be far more efficient than selling individual trinkets. The Ministry would surely not refuse products that were highly practical, had a high turnover rate, and significantly improved operational efficiency.
Moreover, he had already laid the groundwork. After discussing front-line issues with Aurors like Moody, he knew his tactical gear had a significant market. Success with the Ministry also required connections; expecting people to come to you simply because your quality was high was unrealistic.
Fortunately, Alan had done a great favor for the Minister for Magic, making Cornelius Fudge—or rather, Minister Badenough—easy to talk to. The new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was Professor Bones's sister, making her an ally. As for Moody, their relationship was so solid they were practically brothers-in-arms.
With the sales channels secured, he needed to finalize the product line. Standard items like Protective Amulets, Flash Amulets, and Sonic Boom Amulets would serve as the staples. These were consumables that required frequent replenishment. By mass-producing them, he could even subtly reduce their duration. If an amulet wasn't used, its magic would dissipate after three months, requiring a replacement. Offering original replacements at a slightly lower price would ensure steady sales and a consistent cash flow. After all, he was the manufacturer; no one would know the true shelf life of these items.
More premium gear—Magic-Suppressing Handcuffs, Phase Boots, and Tactical Vests—would be invaluable to Aurors and Hit Wizards. Whether the Ministry equipped their units uniformly or individuals purchased them privately, it would provide him with substantial resources. He also planned to develop specialized equipment tailored to the specific problems Moody had described in the field.
However, his current concern wasn't the products themselves, but the production capacity. He traced the lines on the parchment, thinking about how to use the instrument he was developing to solve the bottleneck.
Creating a stable alchemical item required three elements: materials, runes, and magic.
For materials, one had to consider conductivity and storage. Superior conductivity allowed inscribed runes to operate closer to their original strength. Magical storage determined the upper limit of the runes and their lifespan. For instance, if a Fiendfyre curse required 30 units of magic but the material could only withstand 20, that material was useless for the task.
Runes required extreme precision. Many alchemical items weren't flat; inscribing on curved or folded surfaces was challenging and required a continuous, stable input of magic to complete. Finally, magic acted as the fuel. Unless premium materials were used, magic would naturally dissipate over time. Many items also required a user's magic to activate, such as the throwing amulets he had crafted.
While Alan's personal gear featured recharging functions to extend their lifespan, he wouldn't be so generous with mass-produced goods. Consumption was the mother of profit.
The entire process—cutting, shaping, and precise runic inscription—took a considerable amount of time, even for someone as skilled as Alan. If he handcrafted every item, it would be too slow. This was why many alchemical workshops had limited output. He could either make high-end "one-of-a-kind" pieces that funded him for a year or hire a staff to assist him.
But Alan wanted to sell the high-volume consumables used by Aurors. Hiring staff would drive up costs, and selling too cheaply would erase his profit margins. To solve the capacity issue, he decided to tackle the machine on the blueprint: a magical lathe designed for autonomous processing.
In his vision, he would simply feed raw materials into the lathe, and it would autonomously cut, shape, and precisely inscribe the runes. It was essentially an automated production line for his underground laboratory, capable of churning out standardized items twenty-four hours a day.
The material processing was simple; he wouldn't be using high-hardness materials like urim steel for standard-issue gear. The machine's power would be sufficient to press and cut semi-finished products. Compared to manual labor, machine-shaped items would be more precise and offer perfectly consistent specifications.