The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Chapter 203 Moriarty's Assigned Task

“North America? That’s my home turf.” Jericho let out a pleasant laugh, leaning back comfortably in his down chair, his hands clasped on the table, looking intently at Moriarty. “Sir, whatever you need me to do, just let me know.”

"I don't need you to do anything. Just stay at Hogwarts. Your father and I have a star-making plan," Moriarty said casually, which made Jericho feel disappointed.

"Alright, alright," Jericho muttered, "My father... I knew it."

"Don't be discouraged, the star-making project will last a long time." Moriarty comforted Jericho, his gaze sweeping intently over the three little snakes on the right-hand chair, uttering these encouraging words.

"Perhaps four years from now, Jericho will be the captain of the American team at the Quidditch World Cup."

Perhaps in a few years, Marcus will be a renowned magizoologist, achieving even greater success than Newt Scamander.

Perhaps in a few years, the Mincherm family, under Leon's leadership, will regain its former glory and become one of the most powerful families in the world.

Without realizing it, Jericho and his two companions sat up straight, their backs ramrod straight, their eyes shining as they dreamed of the future.

Lockhart, with the air of someone who'd been there before, offered advice to the three little snakes: "My buddies, since the young master is going to put you in certain positions, you'd better be mentally prepared."

Under the spotlight, your flaws will be exposed if you're not careful, and it is precisely these flaws that might become weapons used against the young master.

The three Jericho men looked at each other and nodded solemnly.

"Starting tomorrow, we will study hard and improve our health, and we will never let our teacher down!" Leon said with a firm vow, clenching his fist.

"Don't make it too obvious, and don't put too much pressure on yourself," Moriarty advised like a life mentor, thus changing the subject.

He looked at Lockhart and said, "On January 3rd, I went to the United States with the national team. I contacted Jericho's father, James, and he arranged for the US team to play a warm-up game with us."

"And you, Lockhart," Moriarty said slowly, raising an index finger and waving it at Lockhart, "after tonight, head to Ivorymoney School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America to begin your activities. You decide what those activities are, but I want to see you become one of the young American wizards."

Moriarty had high expectations for Lockhart, and his actions greatly promoted "United Education," and Lockhart did not disappoint Moriarty.

"No problem, my lord, as you wish." Lockhart smiled calmly, having grown increasingly composed after the "French incident."

"Actually, I maintain a pretty good relationship with Ifamony School of Magic in the United States, and the school is very happy for me to visit them."

Lockhart spoke candidly, "This time I plan to hold a charity auction and donate all the money raised to the Quidditch World Cup International Wizarding Guild. I think it's a good way to increase my fame."

Moriarty agreed, "Go for it. The expenses incurred along the way—old Flint and old Foley, you two will cover them."

Old Flint readily agreed, and the newly joined Old Foley also readily agreed. Old Foley also stated that his "40/60 split" with Lockhart was null and void, and all the money he earned from now on would serve Moriarty.

"Very good," Moriarty nodded in satisfaction. "The three of you can continue to develop in this direction. I hope you can give me a surprise in four years, such as becoming the official sponsor of Quidditch in 1994."

Lockhart and old Flint stood up and bowed in unison. "We guarantee to complete the mission, my lord."

Old Foley, a newcomer, hadn't quite caught up with their pace, but he gave them a cunning smile: "Young master, I have an idea that can make you a fortune."

"You mean opening a betting platform?" Moriarty's eyes flashed with a sharp light.

Old Foley immediately flattered Moriarty, explaining, "Every World Cup has countless wizards setting up betting odds of all sizes. Some make money, some lose money, some are used to swindle money, and some are used to launder money. There are many fake and deceptive odds, but there are usually very few real betting odds."

Old Flint gave Old Foley a meaningful look: "Looks like you've made quite a bit of money from this, buddy."

"Pure-blood families are all the same." Old Foley returned the same look. "Almost every pure-blood family has participated in the World Cup betting, the only difference is the amount of money wagered."

That's not wrong, Moriarty thought to himself.

Even in a notoriously poor pure-blood family like the Weasleys, the Weasley twins gamble on soccer.

The betting odds for the Quidditch World Cup offer a glimpse into the extent to which there is room for manipulation in this area.

"I remember in 1964, when Great Britain hosted the World Cup," Flint the elder recalled, leaning on his cane. "Then Abraxas Malfoy, the head of the Malfoy family, made a fortune in Galleons through betting. It was a real windfall!"

The sheer number of Galleons prompted an investigation by the Ministry of Magic. The then Minister, Nobby Leach, a Muggle, was determined to track down the elder Malfoy…

"Ah, yes, now that you mention it, I remember too." Old Foley sighed: "Four years later, in 1968."

Secretary Nobi Leach was forced to resign due to a mysterious illness. Although the source of the illness remains unknown, we all know that Abraxas Malfoy was involved in that conspiracy.

Tonks, Jericho, and the other two had never heard of such political secrets before and were completely dumbfounded.

Moriarty listened with great interest, hoping to find out more from Mrs. Malfoy and uncover more of the darkness.

"That concludes my reminiscences, my old gentlemen. I know that older people often like to reminisce about the past, but when you're with me, you must learn to look to the future." Moriarty's words jolted everyone awake, and old Foley and old Flint smiled sheepishly.

"It's alright," Moriarty said calmly. "I'll leave the matter of setting up the betting market to you two."

"Young master, please rest assured. The gambling operation jointly run by the Flint and Foley families is like a fat man who can never get enough to eat. It greedily devours the Galleons from the wizards' pockets and vaults, leaving not a single one behind."

Old Flint and Old Foley stood up and vouched for Moriarty.

"Two old people who're desperate for food," Lockhart chuckled.

Moriarty extended his right hand, palm down, gesturing for old Flint and old Foley to sit down. He then took a dragon-skin notebook from his robe and tossed it in front of them.

"The new broom that Nicolas Flamel and I are developing is only one final step and a few more experiments away from completion, and it is expected to be available for sale in February."

Your two families will each open a flying broomstick shop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, respectively. Follow the promotional strategy outlined in this notebook and begin pre-launch promotion a week in advance.

"A new type of broom?" Old Foley exclaimed in surprise. "It's finished so quickly? Um, I mean, young master, are you really planning to let us sell these new brooms?"

Old Foley watched Moriarty nervously, afraid that Moriarty would say, "No, no, I was just kidding."

He knew that Moriarty had handed over the wand set business to Madame Malfoy, and that Moriarty wasn't the only one developing the new broom; Nicolas Flamel was also involved. Would that French alchemist master agree to it?

Moriarty saw the unease in old Foley's eyes, stood up, walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Old Foley, don't worry—I hope you understand that I'm not taking advantage of you or the Foley family. On the contrary, I will make things better for you and the Foley family—that's the same for everyone here!"

See, old Flint has adapted.

Old Foley turned his head to look to the left, where old Flint was engrossed in reading his dragon-skin notebook, occasionally letting out a few exclamations of admiration.

"Young master, your idea is brilliant!" Old Flint grinned. "I dare say that once the new brooms go on sale, Nimbus and Comet companies won't be out of business for long!"

"Light Wheel Company..." A shadow rose in Moriarty's eyes. This company had tricked him with a contract, and he was originally going to take some punitive action.

But now that Lilith has taken over this troublesome matter, Moriarty wants to see just how far she can go.

Thinking this, Moriarty returned to the head of the table, glanced at the empty table, and called out, "Luke! Our Christmas dinner is about to begin!"

"Here we are, my young master!" Luke led a group of house-elves to the entrance of the castle hall, where they brought out various dishes.

Moriarty raised his goblet, brimming with fine red wine, and beamed, "Ladies and gentlemen, let us raise a glass to bid farewell to 1989 and welcome 1990!"

(End of this chapter)