Chapter 2: "I Prefer a Strategy That Relies on Capital"
Compared to the typical English manor, the Shelby Estate was far more elegant.
The carefully placed rockeries and the masterful design of the courtyard gardens showcased the architect's unique and sophisticated taste. This particular style, with its clean lines and sense of structured wilderness, was Leon's own design. Traditional English manors had their charm, but he always felt they lacked the grand, imposing atmosphere of a more classic, continental garden.
The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, its pale yellow light slanting through the window and falling across the desk, illuminating a thick stack of parchment envelopes and making them seem even more ancient.
Leon sat at the desk, his eyes narrowed in thought. His two older brothers, Arthur and John, paced nervously. They kept exchanging anxious glances but didn't dare interrupt their younger brother's concentration.
Just then, a familiar hooting sound broke the silence, followed by a loud thump against the glass. A series of indignant squawks followed.
Leon glanced towards the sound. An owl was perched on the windowsill outside, pecking irritably at the glass, letting out a stream of angry noises.
He shot a look at his eldest brother, Arthur, who grimaced, rose from his chair, and strode to the window. He unlatched it and took the envelope from the owl's beak.
Seeing that his brother was no longer lost in thought, the middle brother, John, finally spoke up.
"Leon, that's the six hundredth letter we've had this week. These bloody owls... it's like they can find you wherever you are, day or night."
Arthur chimed in, holding the new letter. "This business in the letters... about wizards and magic. What's it all about?"
"It's all real," Leon replied casually. "The times are changing, my dear brothers."
He stood up slowly, his voice rising with a newfound gravitas. "In the old days, the Shelbys built their empire with money and guns. Now, it's time we learned to use swords and sorcery."
Leon took a deep breath and began issuing orders with rapid-fire precision.
"Arthur, I need you to form a 'Recruitment Division.' I want it staffed with our smartest, most trusted men."
"Their mission is simple: visit every orphanage in the country. Look for the 'freaks,' the ones who don't fit in."
"I'm talking about the children whose hair grows back the day after it's been shaved; the ones who fall from a second-story window and walk away without a scratch; even the ones who are always muttering to themselves, saying they're different. Find them and bring them to me."
"You will adopt them in my name—in the name of Leon Shelby. Give them the best food, the best lodgings, and the finest education."
"I don't care what their last names used to be. From now on, they will be Shelbys. And they will be loyal."
It was an order from the head of the family. Arthur Shelby's expression turned serious. Without a single question, he nodded sharply in assent.
Leon then turned his gaze to his second brother, John, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"John, I need you to liquidate our current businesses. Immediately."
"From this day forward, the Shelby family deals in one thing and one thing only: munitions."
"Package up every other enterprise—the pubs, the betting shops, the distilleries—and sell them off. Turn it all into cash."
"As for our other assets—idle land, redundant properties—start finding buyers. I want it all converted to cash."
"We're selling in a hurry, so we can afford to take a small loss. But if anyone dares try to take advantage of the situation," Leon's voice hardened, "you put a shotgun to his head and you pull the trigger."
John stared, momentarily baffled by the bizarre commands. But despite his confusion, he nodded. He and Arthur had long learned to follow Leon's orders without question. Experience had taught them, time and time again, that Leon was always right.
Leon rubbed his temples, going over the finer details one last time. His brothers suppressed their questions and committed every instruction to memory.
By the time he had finished, the moon was high in the sky.
"That's the gist of it for now," Leon said, letting out a long breath as if a great weight had been lifted. He leaned back and casually propped his feet up on the desk, the commanding presence of the family boss vanishing in an instant.
Arthur and John visibly relaxed and exchanged a look.
Finally, Arthur spoke up. "Leon, from the sound of it... you're planning on leaving for a while?"
"That's right. This 'Hogwarts' in the letter, it's a school. A school that teaches magic," Leon said, swinging his feet. "I'm planning to enrol. And while I'm there, I'll see what business opportunities I can find."
Hearing their suspicions confirmed, both brothers felt a strange mix of emotions. The leader of a notorious crime family wasn't planning to recruit more men or expand their territory, but was instead heading down the crooked path of 'getting an education.' It was baffling.
John, after a moment's thought, spoke decisively. "Right then. I'll pick one hundred—no, two hundred! Two hundred of our best lads to go with you. We can't have you going alone."
"Not necessary," Leon said with a half-amused smile. "The place is a bit dangerous, I'll grant you... but it's nothing I can't handle. Besides," he added, "I plan on being a model student."
Arthur and John both rolled their eyes.
"So, should we send a reply then? I can't stand the sound of these stupid birds any longer," Arthur said, picking up one of the letters from the pile.
Leon had already considered this. He shook his head.
Before he went to Hogwarts, there was much to prepare. And for those preparations, he needed a trustworthy wizard.
If his calculations were correct, after John sold off their businesses, they should have several million pounds in liquid assets. Leon intended to convert every last bit of it into Galleons.
In any world, money was power. It made the impossible possible. Leon had always preferred a strategy that was well-funded. Money talks.
However, the number of Galleons he would possess would be staggering.
Being rich isn't a problem, in this world or any other.
Being rich and weak is the problem.
A little Muggle with that much gold wouldn't be called a "wealthy young wizard." He'd be called "a walking vault for the next Dark Wizard to come along."
And that was why Leon needed a bodyguard. A powerful and, more importantly, an honourable one.
The professors at Hogwarts were the perfect candidates. He just needed to find a way to get one of them on his side.
"Fine, I'll put up with the bloody birds a bit longer," Arthur sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "John and I will get started then. Remember to drink your milk before bed."
With the business concluded, Arthur's role as the older brother returned. He affectionately ruffled Leon's hair before turning to leave with John.
John followed suit, giving his young boss's head a rough tousle of his own before striding out, looking invigorated. Their bond as brothers was strong; the two had even been quietly planning to find the prettiest Gypsy girl to introduce their little brother to in a few years' time.
As they reached the door, Leon's voice stopped them.
"Don't go just yet. There's one last thing I need you to do."
"First, I need you to find a boy."
"He lives on a street called Privet Drive. He has a scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning."
"Oh, and his name..."
"Is Harry Potter."