"The conversion process will take months," Daniel explained, spreading financial documents across the conference table. "But I've established seventeen shell companies across multiple jurisdictions. The money will flow through legitimate investment returns, consulting fees, and strategic acquisitions."
Arthur nodded, impressed by the elegant complexity. "Timeline?"
"Six months for full legitimization. But we can begin investing immediately with the clean funds—about thirty percent of the total."
It had been three weeks since Morrison's visit. True to her word, bureaucratic obstacles appeared at every turn. License applications mysteriously delayed. Regulatory reviews that should take days stretched to weeks. Inspectors arrived with suspicious frequency.
Daniel handled it all with practiced ease.
"The FSA inspector's coming back tomorrow," he mentioned casually. "Third visit this week."
"Let me guess—anonymous tip about irregularities?"
"Money laundering concerns this time." Daniel's smile held no humor. "I've prepared another spotless audit trail for their review."
Arthur watched him work, noting the efficiency born from experience. "You've dealt with this before."
"When my first company took off, established players used the same playbook," Daniel confirmed. "This time, they're more persistent. And they have government backing but so do I."
"Speaking of which—" Arthur leaned back. "Let me know when it becomes unbearable. I'm fine with their rules, but I can return their favors with interest. A few creative headaches might improve their focus."
Daniel actually grinned. "I might cash that check. It's manageable now, but once we're fully operational, these delays could cost millions."
"Give me the word. They'll discover urgent priorities elsewhere." Arthur's smile promised mischief. A few harmless pranks already building in his mind.
Daniel "By the way, Arthur, are you sure we should invest in American tech startups? Most of them have no profits, astronomical valuations, and are burning through cash. It's the definition of a high-risk bubble."
"I know," Arthur replied, his smile serene. "That's why we're going to buy as much as we can, as quietly as we can."
Daniel stared at him, trying to find a flicker of jest in his expression. There was none. "This is gambling, not investing. This… this is throwing money at a lottery ticket."
"It's not gambling," Arthur corrected gently, "when you already know when the bubble is going to burst."
The statement hung in the air. Daniel had learned not to question the source of Arthur's inexplicable insights. He had witnessed magic firsthand; foreknowledge of the stock market seemed almost mundane by comparison.
"I'll draft the strategy," he conceded.
"Perfect. You handle that while I build our foundation."
—
While Daniel waged war in the courts of finance and regulation, Arthur built the empire's bones.
Every core applicant, from the head of analytics to the chief legal counsel, underwent a final interview with the company's silent, unseen partner.
They would sit in a comfortable office, speaking with Daniel, while Arthur observed from the shadows, invisible and unheard. He didn't care about their resumes; he cared about their intentions. A subtle, passive legilimency probe was all it took.
Arthur was ruthless. Only those with clean ambition and a genuine desire to build were welcomed into the fold. The foundation of Phoenix Group would be solid steel.
Next, he built the group's sword and shield. The security department demanded his special attention.
"You want to spar with me?" asked a former SAS trooper named Marcus Thorne, a mountain of a man with scars that told a dozen violent stories. He looked down at Arthur, who was dressed in simple workout gear, with undisguised disbelief. "Son, I don't want to hurt you."
They stood in the center of a private gym below the main office. Ten of the best security operatives money could buy—all applicants for the new internal security division—watched from the sidelines.
"Consider it part of the vetting process," Arthur said with a pleasant smile. "Land one clean hit on me, you're hired. Head of Security goes to the first one who manages it."
A murmur of interest went through the group. Thorne just shrugged. "Your funeral."
He lunged, a surprisingly fast move for a man his size, aiming for a simple takedown. Arthur sidestepped, the motion fluid and economical. Thorne's momentum carried him past, and Arthur's hand shot out, striking two pressure points on his neck with surgical precision.
The giant soldier froze, his entire body locking up. His eyes went wide with shock and confusion as he crashed to the mat, completely paralyzed but fully conscious.
"Anyone else?" Arthur asked, his gaze sweeping over the other stunned applicants.
One by one, they all tried. People with accomplished resumes. Each was an elite killer in his own right. Arthur had set the pay high so the best of the best had applied.
However every one of them was defeated in under thirty seconds. Arthur used no magic, only his peak-human physique, combined with a fighting style that was nothing like they had ever experienced.
He didn't brutalize them. He simply out-thought, out-maneuvered, and neutralized them with embarrassing ease.
Thorne, having recovered, got to his feet, his face a mask of awe and respect. "Who the hell are you?"
"The man who signs your paychecks," Arthur replied brightly. "Welcome to the Phoenix Group. As for the Head of Security position… that remains open. I'll test you all monthly. The one who shows the most improvement gets the job."
He left them standing there, a potent mixture of bruised ego and fierce determination simmering in the air. He had his security team.
With the mundane handled, he secured the magical. Two nights were spent weaving a complex lattice of wards around the Phoenix Group building and Daniel's new, heavily secured home. They were a modified version of the protections around his own home. They would repel scrying, block Apparition, and alert him to any hostile magical intent. They were his silent, unseen guardians.
The final piece of his foundation was the masterpiece.
"Roll up your shirt," Arthur instructed one evening.
Daniel eyed the glowing needle warily. "Is this going to hurt?"
"Probably." Arthur began the delicate work. "But the benefits outweigh temporary discomfort."
The phoenix took shape across Daniel's back, its wings spreading protectively, lines of quicksilver fire knitting themselves into his flesh. The sensation was not pain, but an invasive, overwhelming infusion of pure energy.
Arthur had spent weeks perfecting this piece of magic, a concept stolen from Voldemort but refined and repurposed. The Dark Mark was a brand of slavery. This would be a sigil of partnership. And loyalty.
"What is this?" Daniel gasped, looking at the shimmering tattoo in a mirror.
"It's a gift." Arthur said honestly. "Threat detection, an emergency beacon to me, and powerful mental shields. Think of it as a permanent, upgraded version of the locket." He watched the magic settle. "It also provides a minor physical enhancement. Faster reflexes, better stamina. Nothing superhuman. Just… optimization."
He deliberately left one feature out. The tattoo was a two-way street. It would broadcast any true thought of betrayal directly to him.
Daniel flexed his shoulders, a look of wonder on his face. "I feel... different. Stronger."
"The magic is integrating," Arthur said, cleaning his wand. "Fair warning. It's permanent. No removal, magical or otherwise."
"I wasn't planning on it." Daniel's voice carried quiet certainty. "This is my life now."
—
The new year arrived, painting London in shades of grey and silver. The Phoenix Group was a roaring success, a financial juggernaut in the making. Daniel was a celebrated genius, the security team was a well-oiled machine, and the company's core personnel were loyal and effective.
The machine ran itself.
Which meant Arthur could address old debts.
He'd vanished from Kamar-Taj without a word, a departure that now felt rude and ungrateful. It was time to close that chapter properly.
He stood in his study, raising a hand. With a familiar, circular motion, he tore a hole in reality. A vortex of golden sparks erupted, revealing the serene, sun-drenched courtyard of Kamar-Taj.
Leaving the world of finance and intrigue behind, Arthur Hayes stepped through the portal. His first stop, before greeting any old friends, was the chamber of the Sorcerer Supreme.