— — — — — —
The Amplifying Charm carried Sirius Black's voice across all of Diagon Alley. The lively, bustling street went silent in an instant as people turned to see who was making such outrageous claims.
A pudgy wizard snorted. "Five hundred Codex? Do you even know how much one costs? What, do you think you're buying scrap paper for your kid?"
This time, Tom had released two editions of the Codex notebook.
The first was the Standard Edition — a hundred pages, basic send-and-receive messaging functions, priced at twenty Galleons each.
The second was the Deluxe Edition, which looked just as thick but used miniaturization charms to triple the capacity to three hundred pages. It even supported video call — though only if the other person also had a Deluxe model.
Both versions supported group chats. The Standard Edition could handle up to ten users, but if anyone in the group owned the Deluxe Edition, the limit expanded to fifty.
And the best part? Deluxe users had golden, shimmering avatars and text, so everyone could see at a glance that they were chatting with someone of status.
That kind of glow wasn't just an effect — it was prestige.
So when Sirius said he wanted five hundred notebooks, even if they were all Standard Edition, that was ten thousand Galleons right there.
Some scoffed, but others recognized him and gasped.
"Wait — that's Sirius Black! The falsely accused hero?"
"It really is him! Looks a lot sturdier than in the old pictures — shorter hair, trimmed beard… no wonder I didn't recognize him at first!"
"The Black family is loaded. Five hundred notebooks is pocket change to him!"
The crowd's chatter grew, a few stray words drowned out by the noise. Sirius ignored them, grinning at Lucius and Draco Malfoy — a grin that looked far more threatening than friendly.
"You Slytherin bastards better keep your hands off my godson. Next time you bother him, I'll beat you and your dear Narcissa both."
"You—!" Lucius sputtered with fury, raising his wand with a trembling hand. But Draco grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Potter," Draco sneered, "still hiding behind others? See you at our usual spot when term starts."
And with that, he dragged his father away.
Harry cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted after him, "Hope you don't cry for Daddy again when I'm done with you!"
When the Malfoys finally vanished into the thickening crowd, Sirius turned to Harry. "What did he mean, 'usual spot'?"
Harry quickly explained their weekly duels. Sirius chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder as they headed toward a small building next to the shop.
"Good. Hit him hard. If you need help, just ask — I'm quite the dueling expert."
Harry nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. Tom's notes… Somehow, learning from it just felt easier — maybe because he and Tom were about the same age.
After all, even the professors didn't explain things as clearly as Tom did.
...
At the door, a smiling clerk was already waiting to welcome them in.
This was a big customer — a single sale like this could earn her over a month's commission. Unfortunately, the young boss had set a rule.
"Mr. Black," she said apologetically, "due to limited production, each person can only buy up to one hundred Codex. That's already the bulk-purchase allowance."
Sirius waved it off. "That's fine. I'll take a hundred — ten Deluxe, ninety Standard. I'll pay now."
"No problem, sir. Would you like to get a bank card as well? It'll make transactions much faster and easier."
"Bank card?" Sirius looked puzzled.
The clerk eagerly explained.
After she finished, Harry grinned. "I'll take one! Carrying coins everywhere's a pain — my pockets keep dragging my robes down."
There was another reason, though — he wasn't exactly a math whiz. Paying with coins always took him ages.
(One Galleon is seventeen Sickles, one Sickle is twenty-nine Knuts.)
---
Inside the room, a goblin from Gringotts was stationed specifically to handle the new card registrations. After confirming their identities and vault passwords, he handed each of them a glowing silver card and showed them how to activate it using their own magic.
Sirius tapped his card against the crystal reader. The total immediately appeared — fourteen thousand Galleons.
He eyed the card with fascination. "That's it? What if someone else tries to use my card — can they just swipe it too?"
"Of course not," said the goblin proudly. "It uses Mr. Riddle's exclusive Magical Signature Verification technology. Gringotts spent nearly two months trying to crack it — not once succeeded. Completely secure."
Harry's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Wait — this was Tom's invention too?"
"Ah, I forgot," said the goblin with a sly smile. "You're one of Mr. Riddle's classmates, aren't you?"
As part of the Codex launch, Tom had cleverly linked the system with the new payment cards — a perfect bit of cross-promotion. Anyone who paid with the card would receive fifty special Codex pages for free.
Selling the devices themselves was just a one-time profit. Real money came from consumables — from traffic, from usage.
Tom had set the price at one Galleon per fifty sheets — reasonable enough for casual users.
But for offices or anyone who used the Codex for constant communication, the paper would vanish faster than you could say Accio quill. Luckily, those kinds of users were usually on the Ministry's payroll, not paying out of pocket.
Other shops along Diagon Alley joined in the promotion too, working with Gringotts. Some offered a five-percent discount when paying by card, others handed out small gifts.
Both shop owners and clerks were happy to adopt the new payment cards. Owners no longer had to worry about employees miscounting Galleons or skimming a few on the side, and clerks appreciated the convenience — some transactions used to take them ten minutes just to total up.
A one-percent transaction fee barely made a dent, so everyone gladly accepted Gringotts' offer of free card readers and even helped spread the word.
Everyone except old Ollivander, of course. The stubborn codger refused to take anything but Galleons, claiming that wands and wizard gold should always change hands together. His shop didn't do much business anyway, so Gringotts simply gave up on him.
...
By the time Sirius and Harry left with several towering stacks of Codex, they were a little disappointed not to have seen Tom himself — they would've loved to chat with him for a while.
So where was Tom on such an important launch day?
He was at the Ministry of Magic, negotiating a major deal.
The Minister and several senior officials had been given early access to Codex. Tom had arranged this through Lady Greengrass, knowing that once the Ministry got hooked, the rest of the wizarding world would follow.
In the spacious conference room, word had already reached Cornelius Fudge about the chaos and excitement erupting in Diagon Alley. Most of the officials around the table were now looking at Tom with a new kind of respect.
It wasn't hard to see where this was going — Codex would soon become as essential as Floo Powder.
And Floo Powder had made several families wealthy for generations. If Tom's Codex became that widespread — plus his payment system — the Riddle family could easily become another powerhouse in wizarding society.
Genius inventor, powerful background, incredible business sense — even right now, Tom Riddle was already a force to be reckoned with.
"Mr. Riddle," Fudge began, smiling with thinly disguised flattery, "about these notebooks… any chance you could lower the price a little? And the refill pages too. The Ministry's budget is rather tight, and with our usage volume… well, if we pay full price, I might not even have enough left to pay my staff next year."
Fudge truly regretted being so generous a few months ago. He'd upgraded the Auror Office's gear, poured money into Hogwarts to prepare for the visiting students this year, and even issued new protective pendants for the higher-ups. Now the Ministry was practically running on next year's budget.
And yet — Codex was too useful to ignore. Real-time communication would skyrocket productivity across every department.
Tom sighed softly. "Minister, I'm running a small business here. If I give you discounts like that, I'll have to start paying out of pocket."
He looked genuinely troubled — though in truth, he was already making a healthy profit. After deducting shop expenses and labor, the Deluxe Edition earned about eighty-five Galleons each, and the Standard Edition around ten.
"Mr. Riddle."
Fudge threw out a tempting offer. "The Ministry never forgets its benefactors. I could see to it that you receive the Order of Merlin, Second Class for your contributions."
Tom looked entirely unimpressed. "Keep it. I was only interested in First Class."
That caught Fudge and the others off guard — apparently, the boy wasn't easy to please. They tried again with softer words, even roped in Lady Greengrass to help persuade him.
But she was family — and clever. She offered a few polite words and then excused herself, leaving the Ministry to handle its own mess.
The negotiations dragged on until late afternoon. At last, Tom reluctantly agreed: the notebooks would be sold at a 30% discount, and the refill paper would be half off.
Fudge wasn't thrilled, but seeing Tom's firm stance, he had little choice but to accept for now. The Ministry would finalize the order quantity later.
Before everyone left, Fudge brightened with a new idea. "Mr. Riddle, we're hosting a small gathering tonight — quite a few distinguished guests will be attending. It'd be a good opportunity to make some useful connections. Care to join us?"
Fudge wasn't being entirely selfless; he wanted to get closer to Tom. A young man this talented and rich would soon become a pillar of the magical economy. If the Ministry could earn his favor, maybe he'd even make a generous donation one day — which would look very good on Fudge's record.
Tom turned him down flat. "Appreciate the offer, Minister, but I've got plans tonight."
In truth, he had a house full of little witches waiting to celebrate Codex's successful launch with him. He had no time for what he privately called "a room full of self-important nobodies."
Fudge's smile stiffened, but before he could take offense, Tom spoke again. "Minister, since the Ministry's funds are tight, I do have a suggestion."
He flicked a single Galleon into the air, letting it spin and hum softly. "The goblins at Gringotts are quite well-off, aren't they? Just look at how many curse-breakers they hire — imagine all the treasure they've hauled in from those ruins."
He smiled faintly. "If the Ministry's goal is to better serve the wizarding world, shouldn't they contribute a little more?"
The words hit Fudge like a revelation. His eyes lit up. Of course! How had he forgotten those greedy little creatures? Gringotts' licensing fees hadn't changed in decades — it was about time to… renegotiate.
Tom could see the idea taking root and gave a satisfied smile before taking his leave.
The poorer the goblins got, the harder they'd push his card payment system — keeping more Galleons flowing through Gringotts. And in the end, that meant more profits for him.
He stepped into the Ministry atrium, tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, and disappeared in a swirl of green flame.
.
.
.