Regulus’s gaze stayed fixed on Cassian. It wasn’t warm, never warm, but there was something calculating in the way his brow furrowed. “You are suggesting we hedge the Rosier fortunes against the Muggle world?”

“Hedging is generous,” Cassian said. “I am saying, unless you lot fancy going down with the ship, you might want a lifeboat. And the Muggles, for all their fumbling, have plenty of those.”

The silence that followed was delicious.

Ophelia ended it with a snort. “This isn’t the first time someone’s proposed dipping into Muggle economies. Every single attempt has ended in disaster.”

“That is because you sent pureblood bankers who still think electricity is a fad,” Cassian replied smoothly. “Send someone who understands both sides of the fence. Or don’t, and wait until you are begging Lucius Malfoy for loans in a couple of years.”

Viola’s lip curled. “You always were a mouthy little brat.”

“True,” Cassian said lightly. “But I am the mouthy brat with a solution.”

Regulus tapped his foot. “What do you suggest? We go and buy their businesses?”

Cassian gave him a look like he’d just suggested taming a dragon with a teacup. “Gods, no. Do you have any idea how their businesses even work?”

Viola turned sharply to Regulus, her lips pressed thin. “Brother, you can’t possibly entertain this nonsense…”

Regulus raised a hand, cutting her off without looking her way. “Let’s listen first.”

The others exchanged glances.

Cassian grinned. “First of all, you need to understand Muggles are as cunning and despicable as… well, they are cunning, possibly more so because they’ve had to survive without wands. You can’t just dump a pile of gold in their laps and expect everything to work out. The second they sniff you’re a whale, they’ll rig the market to bankrupt you before you’ve even signed the paperwork.”

He flicked his fingers like he was tossing a coin. “It is what they do. Hedge funds, hostile takeovers, leveraged buyouts… their kind don’t need magic to wreck you.”

Armand snorted. “So what then? Sit on our hands while the Muggle world swallows itself whole?”

Cassian tilted his head lazily. “No. You move quietly. You don’t stomp into their playground waving banners that scream ‘ancient magical family with deep pockets.'”

Basil scoffed from the corner. “Quiet doesn’t suit us.”

“Which is why you will get eaten alive if you try this like it is another Gringotts merger.” Cassian’s tone sharpened. “Muggles think in systems. Networks. You have to go in through a dozen cutouts, buy into firms small enough not to draw notice, and let the dividends do the heavy lifting. No sweeping announcements. No flashy acquisitions. You keep your head down until it is too late for them to shove you out.”

Damien gave a tight smile. “And you, of course, are suddenly an expert on Muggle markets?”

Cassian’s lips curved faintly. “If you all recall, the Muggle side was my last option a few years ago. I read. I watched. I asked questions. All things you lot find terribly beneath you.”

Viola let out a sharp breath. “Even if we humour you, where exactly would you start? Mines? Diamonds? Banking? We don’t have the manpower for that many fronts.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “Banking’s a no-go. They are… ah, not the sort you want to tangle with. Focus on energy and computing. The Muggles are throwing money at both like it grows on trees. Less chance of us making a scene, too.”

Armand grunted. “I will do it.”

Cassian arched a brow. “You?”

“Yes. Me.”

“You do realise computers aren’t made of lead and blood curses, right? You can’t just smuggle in a crate of cursed artefacts and expect IBM to hand you shares.”

Armand’s jaw flexed. “I don’t need a lecture from you.”

Cassian held his gaze for a moment longer, then shrugged lazily. “Alright. But don’t come crying to me when some twelve-year-old in California empties your accounts because you thought a firewall was an actual wall.”

Armand’s face darkened.

Viola sniffed. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“Enough,” Regulus said sharply.

The room fell silent.

“I’ve been studying Muggle technology lately,” Lucian said, voice stiff. “I am sure I can handle it, Father.”

Cassian barked a laugh so sharp even Regulus’s brow twitched. “Oh, this I have to hear. What technology, pray tell, have you been ‘studying,’ brother?”

Lucian’s jaw clenched tight. “You are not the only one who knows the world, Cassian. I’ve been researching this man… Turing. You said computation. We should invest in him.”

Cassian leaned forward, wheezing. Actually wheezing. “Oh Sweet Mother of God, that is… that is bloody amazing.” He smacked his palm against the armrest, shoulders shaking. “You want to invest in Alan Turing.”

“Yes,” Lucian snapped.

Cassian doubled over. “Turing! That is brilliant. Fantastic idea. Small hiccup, though… He is dead. Been dead for, oh, forty years. But sure, let’s send flowers to his grave and see if he sends shares back.”

A ripple of poorly-suppressed snickers passed down the room.

Lucian’s ears went scarlet. “You think you are clever…”

“No, no. You are clever,” Cassian said, wiping a tear. “Thinking of cornering the necromancy market while you are at it? Buy up shares from the afterlife? Golden strategy, really. I’m sure the family fortune will skyrocket.”

Lucian’s lips twitched, fists clenched.

Cassian smiled. “Exactly. Next.”

Regulus’s knuckles tapped against the table. The sound silenced the room. His eyes settled on Cassian. “You will take France’s funds.”

“What?” Lucian’s voice cracked. His face flushed crimson this time, not just his ears.

“Cassian will deal with it,” Regulus repeated, unblinking. “You’ve opened your mouth, now follow through. The Muggle world is yours. Prove you are more than talk.”

Cassian dusted off his sleeves. “Are you sure? I mean, everyone here got more experience than me. I would hate to rob them of the chance to flounder spectacularly in the Muggle markets.”

A few sets of eyes cut his way like hexes waiting to be fired.

Regulus’s grey stare didn’t waver. “I said you will take France’s funds.”

Cassian leaned back, letting out a slow whistle. “Right. No pressure then. Only handling a chunk of the family fortune while the rest of you watch like hawks and pray I don’t turn it into a giant bonfire.”

Viola sniffed loudly. “You will. That is the problem.”

“Cheerful as always, Auntie.”

Cassian flicked invisible dust off his lapel, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry, Lucian. I promise not to sink the whole ship on day one. I will wait till at least next week.”

***

Walking down the streets of London, Cassian whistled a tune to himself.

He wasn’t here to sightsee, tempting as it was to duck into a cafe and pretend he wasn’t on a mission that would make half his family choke on their port. No, he had a very particular Muggle to find.

In his past life, he knew an unfortunate broker. A clever bloke, but the company he worked for had sacrificed him like a lamb when things went south. Cassian met him years later, scrubbing toilets at a secondary school where Cassian was covering history classes. At first, he didn’t believe half the stories the man told between mopping floors. Million-pound trades, cutthroat boardrooms, being sacrificed to keep the company afloat… it all sounded like bitter pub talk. Until the day Cassian saw his name in a headline.

Now, here in 1992, that same man, well, his version in this world, was fresh out of university, clutching a degree in economics and dreaming of big things. Cassian arranged the meeting with a few phone calls.

Walking into the small office he rented for the day and finding the man already perched in one of the leather chairs, radiating the sort of nervous energy that suggested he’d been rehearsing lines in the mirror.

The guy stood as soon as Cassian stepped in. Early twenties, hair a bit too neat, suit pressed within an inch of its life. Still years younger than the version Cassian remembered, but the spark in his eyes was the same. The kind of sharpness you didn’t polish into someone, they were either born with it or not.

“Mr Rosier?” he asked, unsure.

Cassian shut the door behind him, tossing his coat over the chair by the desk. “That is me. And you are Thomas Wright, right? Good to see you’ve not yet been eaten alive by the city.”

Wright’s brow twitched like he wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. “Er… not yet, sir.”

Cassian dropped into the chair opposite and gestured for him to sit again. “Drop the sir. You make me sound like I’ve got shares in the monarchy. Cassian will do.”

Wright nodded stiffly and sat back down, hands folded in his lap.

“So,” Cassian said, leaning back, “you’ve got the degree, the ambition, and… if my sources aren’t lying, the stomach for numbers that would make Medicis weep. I would say that is a start.”

Wright’s shoulders eased just slightly. “I… I’ve always had a head for numbers, yes.”

Cassian’s lips curved faintly. “Good. Because I am about to ask if you fancy a job that will make all those tedious entry-level interviews look like a holiday.”

That got a flicker of interest in Wright’s eyes. “What sort of job?”

“The sort that pays well, requires a sharp mind, and, most importantly, means you will have to keep your mouth shut about ninety per cent of what you see.” Cassian tilted his head, studying him. “Can you do that?”

Wright hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I can.”

“Good lad.” Cassian reached for the folder on the desk and flipped it open. “Because here is the thing… I am putting together a portfolio. One that won’t raise any eyebrows in the business world but will keep certain… family interests safe if the markets go belly up.”

Wright’s brows pulled together. “Families?”

Cassian gave him a sharp look and a faint smile. “You will find out soon enough. For now, let’s just say you will be working with investments most people your age wouldn’t touch without two mentors holding their hands.”

Wright’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “Alright. And you are offering me…?”

“A chance to prove you are not wasting oxygen,” Cassian said, voice light. “You will be the front man. I will fund it, guide it, and make sure no one asks awkward questions about where the money’s coming from. You will handle the actual legwork… research, acquisitions, balancing accounts.”

Wright’s fingers drummed lightly against his knee. “That is… a big ask.”

“It is.” Cassian shut the folder with a snap. “Yes or no? If it’s no, you walk out and forget we ever spoke.”

The younger man looked at him for a long moment, something flickering in his gaze… curiosity, ambition, maybe even a hint of fear. Then he nodded. “Yes.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Thought so. Good man.” He patted the folder. “Let’s get started then, shall we? Time to see if you’ve got what it takes to dance with sharks.”

Wright swallowed hard but didn’t flinch. Cassian counted that as a promising sign.

He slid the contract across the desk like it was nothing more than a rental agreement. Thomas Wright skimmed it, eyes darting over clauses, then signed at the bottom with a flourish.

Poor bloke had no idea the parchment shimmered faintly as his ink sank in, sealing the magical binding. He probably thought it was a fancy bit of legalese with an unnecessary wax seal. Cassian wasn’t about to enlighten him either. Wright didn’t need to know this little setup came with bloodline clauses and anti-betrayal curses woven straight through. Ignorance was safer for them both.

Once the ink dried, Cassian pushed a thick folder across the desk. Inside were details of converted pound figures in a muggle bank. Every Galleon scrubbed clean and bundled up to look like it had come from some old trust fund, nothing traceable back to Gringotts or the family vaults. Updates are released by novel✶fire.net

He watched as Wright flipped through the papers, eyes wide at the sheer volume of funds being handed over.

Cassian outlined the sectors he wanted him watching like he was rattling off a shopping list, energy grids, small but ambitious computing startups, infrastructure firms on the brink of exploding thanks to deregulation. All things Cassian remembered from a world decades ahead. Being from the 21st century had its perks… he already knew which companies would change the bloody planet and which ones would crash and burn.

He didn’t tell Wright why certain firms would triple in value or why an obscure tech shop in California mattered more than any French conglomerate. The kid didn’t need the full picture, he just needed to follow instructions and keep the paperwork clean.

Once the last sheet of paper was tucked neatly into the folder, Cassian stood. Wright followed suit quickly, still clutching the folder like it might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“Good,” Cassian said lightly. “I will check in. Don’t waste it up.”

Wright nodded stiffly, clearly still processing the zeroes on the page.

As Cassian was about to step out of the office, Wright spoke up, fumbling slightly over the words. “Si- Cassian, there is tension in the Middle East. Do you want to…”

Cassian raised a hand without turning back. “No. I don’t want blood money. Even if they would make me ten times richer, stay clear of them.”

Wright’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, then shut again.

“Stick to the brief,” Cassian added, giving the younger man a sharp look. “Energy, telecoms, and whatever clever little tech firms you dig up on the side. But no warmongers, no arms, and not a single oil company that’s got a body count behind its logo.”

Wright nodded quickly. “Understood.”

“Good lad.” Cassian slung his coat over his shoulder. “I like my money clean enough I don’t feel the urge to bleach it later.”

He stepped out into the corridor, loosening his tie, muttering under his breath.

“Middle East in the early nineties… Gods, as if I don’t know where that road leads.” He shook his head climbing down the stairs.

Not a Spoiler, Just an image! ↓

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Author Rant ↓ 

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Some invest in gold, others in glory. You’ve gone all in on silence.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep