When Bryan raised his hand, every person at the conference table fell silent at once, the fury and indignation and the shown suffering of the last twenty minutes extinguished as though it had been nothing but a performance.
Outside, beyond the table and its two rows of opposing faces, the marching crowds gazed up at Mr. Watson with eyes full of desperate hope.
Though he had been among those they had denounced. This most powerful wizard of the modern age was the only person in their view who might actually be able to do something, and they wanted nothing more than for him to stand up for them.
Reporters, onlookers, Ministry employees, and the handful of junior wizards in attendance.
Every gaze in the square converged on Bryan.
This particular kind of pressure had its own quality. In its own way, Bryan thought, it weighed more heavily than facing Voldemort ever had.
He let his eyes settle on Narcissa's face. She looked composed. But Bryan could feel the tension and panic roiling beneath her composed face.
"Let me first confirm with everyone present," he said. His voice was slow as his gaze pressed down on the room. "Are the difficulties you've just raised the only obstacles standing between us and our immediate goal: the resumption of workshop operations?"
He let the silence stretch.
"Am I correct in understanding that if these issues are properly resolved, the orders, the capital, the guarantees, resuming production would no longer be a problem?"
Gulp!
Narcissa's pale throat moved as she swallowed. After a brief hesitation, she gave a single nod.
Around the table, the other representatives who had been watching the Malfoy matriarch with calculating attention waiting to see which way the most significant piece would move before deciding their own position wasted no further time. One by one, they followed in suit
There was safety in numbers, after all.
The logic was ancient and reliable: if they had all shut down together, they would reopen together. Neither the Ministry nor the Dark forces would slaughter them all in wholesale.
"Excellent."
Seeing the room come to agreement, Bryan nodded with satisfaction.
Tap—Tap
He rapped his knuckles lightly against the tabletop and his voice settled into the flat, forward-moving tone.
"Then let us address the matter of the global wizarding community's pessimism regarding Britain's near-term recovery."
He looked across the table.
"As to the domestic strife and instability, I cannot make you promises about when things will settle. Not to you, and not to the international community. Whether it will be a matter of months, or whether it will drag on for years as it once did, is not something I'm in a position to guarantee."
He paused. "But whatever happens, the basic needs of the people of this nation must be met. Both producers and consumers depend on a steady supply of everyday essentials. No one, no household in wizarding Britain, wealthy or otherwise can endure paying twelve Sickles an ounce for Floo Powder because the supply has been disrupted."
Several attendees shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
The Floo-Pow Company which manufactured the Floo Powder supply was simply too vast and deeply embedded in the magical infrastructure of the country to be held by any single family.
Everyone at the table knew this.
Bryan naming it aloud was not new information.
"The Ministry is, likewise, obligated to ensure a minimum supply of these goods for the population. Therefore—"
He continued without pause, his voice maintaining the same steady, matter-of-fact tone as though what he was about to say was the obvious next step.
"You need not concern yourselves with production orders going forward. The Ministry will establish a Department of Trade, which will place orders directly with your workshops."
The silence that followed was different from the previous silences at this table.
Narcissa's eyes sharpened in an instant.
'The Ministry's Department of Trade… placing orders directly with the workshops.'
The next step was obvious, once you saw the first one. The Ministry would not stockpile indefinitely, they would bring the goods to market at a reasonably controlled price, stabilising supply and demand simultaneously.
Something clicked in Narcissa's mind.
"At what price does the Ministry intend to purchase from our workshops?"
Her voice was steady. The question was sharp and precise.
"Based on the average price you've charged your domestic end markets over the past five years."
Bryan smiled pleasantly.
Narcissa fell silent.
The workshops would not lose money under this arrangement. The Ministry's purchase price was fair. The workshops would cover their costs and maintain a margin.
But the Ministry was guaranteed to profit. The Ministry would purchase at the established market price and sell into a market where demand exceeded supply, where the Ministry's backing gave them the credibility that private operators no longer possessed.
The spread between what they paid and what they received would be, in the present conditions, very comfortable indeed.
Both sides knew this.
In effect, the Ministry would become the exclusive authorised agent for every workshop at this table.
With goods scarce across the wizarding world and the Ministry the only reliable source of them, the Ministry had no fear of moving inventory.
It could adjust orders dynamically—increase purchasing when demand rose, reduce it when demand fell, redirect product between domestic and international markets as conditions required.
Better still, it would not need to forecast the market independently, domestic and international buyers would come to the Ministry, place their orders, and the Ministry would simply pass those orders along to the workshops with whatever adjustments suited its purposes.
'Cunning,' Narcissa thought. 'And terrifying.'
Narcissa's eyes flickered with wariness as she studied Bryan Watson's faintly smiling face.
This single stroke had exposed their bluff—and in doing so, had quietly secured enormous profits for the Ministry, and, more importantly, an overwhelming degree of leverage.
Because if every workshop order flowed through the Ministry, the Ministry held absolute power over each workshop's production quota. Over its capacity to operate. Over whether it functioned or sat closed and idle.
The Ministry would not need to threaten anyone. It would not need to issue warnings or impose penalties. It would simply be the entity through which every piece of business passed and the workshops would need it to remain so.
It was one thing if this were a short-term wartime measure.
But if the arrangement persisted after the war, the Ministry would have seized control of every workshop in the room—without drawing a single wand.
"A truly dazzling suggestion, Mr. Watson—"
After a sharp intake of breath, Narcissa steadied herself. Her mouth drew into a tight line.
"But I have one question, if I may—"
"Please, Mrs. Malfoy."
Bryan inclined his head with a grace that was completely effortless.
"The proposal has a certain viability," Narcissa said, with a choice of words. "But if you'll forgive my bluntness—"
"Always."
She drew a breath.
"The Ministry's proposed arrangement appears designed primarily to stabilise the domestic market. The domestic market is important, and I don't dismiss it. But surely you are aware that domestic volume alone would only keep our workshops on the barest of life support.
The margins are insufficient for full operation. Without access to the vast international market, most of our operations, including those of the Malfoy family, would face severe and potentially permanent contraction. Which means…"
She glanced past Watson at the hopeful faces of the mob watching from beyond the room.
"…we would still be compelled to carry out large-scale redundancies, simply to eke out what little margin remains."
"Oh, Mrs. Malfoy—you are far too pessimistic."
The smile on Bryan's face deepened.
"The reason your workshops could not receive international orders before was that Britain's volatile situation made everything unpredictable, and private operators lacked the guarantees to stir confidence. That is what caused the breakdown of cooperation.
But the Ministry's decisive victory at the Battle of Diagon Alley is more than enough to restore some international faith in the wizarding world."
"Some improvement is not enough, Mr. Watson." Narcissa's voice had sharpened to its edge.
"The Ministry will actively engage with all parties across the international wizarding community to solicit orders on your workshops' behalf." Bryan's voice remained entirely level.
"The British Ministry of Magic will stand as guarantor for every international transaction. Any order placed through the Ministry, for delivery from a British workshop, carries the Ministry's guarantee of fulfilment. I trust that should be sufficient to restore the international market's confidence."
When it came to the specifics of commerce and trading relationships, Narcissa's experience and knowledge were quite genuinely superior to most of what was present at this table, including Bryan's.
And yet each objection she raised was met with the same quality of response: precise, already-prepared.
"Furthermore—" Bryan continued. "For every international transaction, the Ministry will coordinate with Gringotts' soon-to-be-established insurance division.
The Ministry will provide coverage for each contract, and should any delivery default occur due to war, or any other force majeure, Gringotts will compensate both the buyer and the seller for their losses. The risk is absorbed entirely. No buyer needs to fear losing a deposit.
I believe that arrangement should satisfy everyone concerned."
Bryan smiled serenely.
'Gringotts… an insurance division?'
Narcissa was not the only one at the table wearing a look of blank confusion. None of the people at this table had ever heard of Gringotts offering such a service.
After a moment's reflection, Narcissa could not help but concede: Watson's scheme was nothing short of masterly.
She could not find a weakness.
The British wizarding government as guarantor: that was credibility. The strongest institutional credibility available. No international buyer with any sophistication would doubt a Ministry-backed transaction.
Gringotts as the backstop in case of catastrophe: that was security. Absolute, unconditional, financially unimpeachable security. No organization in the wizarding world had the trust that Gringotts garnered.
She could almost picture it:
The Ministry's main hall packed wall to wall with buyers from France and Germany and Bulgaria and Japan and every corner of the wizarding world, all of them eager, all of them carrying orders. The workshops would flourish. Their output would exceed anything the most optimistic projection could have predicted.
The warmth that touched Narcissa's eyes as the picture formed was immediately shadowed by regret.
The one thing they would lose was their independence.
Once the Ministry was their buyer, their guarantor, their market intermediary, eventually, they would be bound to the Ministry and going it alone was no longer an option.
They had already, in the conversation earlier, said it themselves: the workshops had closed because there were no orders.
And so, Bryan had used that admission to invite the Ministry in.
"And the capital?"
Callum's voice broke across Narcissa's thoughts.
She turned to look at him and found his face had undergone a change.
Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten which side he was supposed to be on. His face was lit with unconcealed interest.
"Are you planning to persuade Gringotts to extend low-interest or zero-interest loans to help our workshops cover initial operating costs?"
"Ah, on that point—"
Bryan leaned slowly back in his chair. The corners of his mouth curved into a subtle knowing smile.
"My thinking was to have the Ministry inject capital directly into your workshops."
'A direct injection?'
Callum blinked.
"You mean…" He parsed it carefully, as though making sure he had understood before responding. "The Ministry wants to invest in our workshops?"
Under the eyes of everyone present, Bryan cleared his throat and finally allowed what had been, throughout this conversation, the true destination, to finally surface.
"Precisely."
He nodded, and raised his voice just slightly.
"To safeguard the vital public welfare of the wizarding population—since your workshops lack the working capital to restart production at the scale the situation requires, it is only right and proper that the Ministry extend a helping hand. Naturally…."
He paused for the span of a breath.
"…the Ministry is not running a charity. For the capital it provides, for the risk it absorbs, for the orders it guarantees and the market access it creates, the Ministry will need to hold a portion of the equity."
He surveyed the silent room and allowed himself to show a slight smile.
"That's only fair, isn't it, everyone?"
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