Leonard rolled his eyes. "You really know how to play the hands-off boss."
"The more capable you are, the busier you get—isn't that what you and Jigger always say?" Midgard replied with a sly grin. "If you've got an idea, spill it. We'll follow your lead."
"Since you put it that way, I won't hold back." Leonard settled back into his chair, ready to speak his mind.
After pulling off the Gringotts job together, Leonard and Midgard's bond had shifted—from friends to comrades, or perhaps partners in crime. Beyond sharing glory and ruin, growing Midgard's power also meant benefits for Leonard. He was happy to advise her, strengthening the werewolf-wizard faction while tightening their alliance.
"First, we need to free your werewolves from the agony of losing their minds at the full moon. Offer that as a reward to recruit wizards unwilling to bow to their werewolf instincts," Leonard said.
"That's not so different from what I said before, is it? Just buying more Wolfsbane ingredients and paying potion makers to brew cheap batches for us?" Midgard muttered.
Leonard's eyelid twitched.
"How is that the same?" He pressed a hand to his forehead. "We need the finished potions. If we can, why hand over the whole process—and the profit—to others? Why can't we have our own potion makers? Our own workshop?"
To close the gap between himself and the werewolves, Leonard deliberately said we. Neither Midgard nor Marcus objected; perhaps both naturally saw Leonard as one of them.
"But training or hiring a potion maker costs a fortune," Midgard argued.
"Money?" Leonard pointed at the Galleons piled at their feet. "Isn't it right here? You'd hand out these coins to werewolves for all sorts of things, but won't spend them where they actually matter?"
What he really meant was: you'd rather waste money on the handle than spend it on the blade.
Midgard thought it over and realized he was right. Investing in a potion maker was far more cost-effective than hoarding raw ingredients. The labor costs for brewing Wolfsbane far outweighed the savings from stockpiling.
"Next comes their livelihoods," Leonard continued. "Handing out money won't work. With this much, we could buy a few shops, start some small businesses—and better yet, purchase an estate to grow Wolfsbane ingredients."
"But those are all expenses. How does that improve the wolf cubs' lives?" Midgard asked.
"Shops need workers. Estates need farmers. Those are jobs," Leonard explained. "Werewolf wizards need work, not handouts. Creating value themselves—that's how a healthy cycle begins."
Midgard finally caught on. "That's actually a good plan. Why didn't I think of it?"
Good question.
Leonard wondered too. By the end of the twentieth century, how could anyone still not grasp the concept of work-for-relief? Even without that, no group could just raise freeloaders forever.
Fenrir may have been ruthless, but at least he treated werewolves like underlings in a gang. Unstable and low-paying, yes, but at least it kept them active. How could Midgard not see that—and instead want to coddle them like children?
Well, ignorance could be fixed. He'd just teach her.
"In short," Leonard said, "money shouldn't be handed out. They should earn it through work or contribution. Recruit potion makers, then pick out talented werewolves and fund their training—especially in brewing Wolfsbane."
"The estate supplies the ingredients. Hired potion makers and trained werewolves produce the potions, which the shops sell. If Diagon Alley balks at werewolves, then hire ordinary wizards as managers to sell potions and materials."
In just a few sentences, Leonard had charted a course for the werewolves' future.
"To sum it up: with money, everything's possible. Without it, we're stuck. Don't think we can live off past gains—we won't get another shot at Gringotts."
"No need for another raid. If your plan works, we'll never worry about money again." Midgard's eyes shone with determination, as though she already saw a brighter future.
"Glad you understand." Leonard stood. "As for potion makers, speak to Jigger. He knows plenty. I think Damocles would be perfect—he pities werewolves… and he's broke."
If Midgard followed through, it wouldn't be long before Knockturn Alley had a new power rising—one not feared and despised, but one that crushed others with wealth.
...
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