Dumbledore moved quietly—but efficiently.
Using his long-standing contacts within the Department of Magical Patents, the invention was registered under a single, unmistakable name:
Lucien Aurelius Peverell Lionhardt
—Primary Inventor and Sole Rights Holder.
No co-owners.
No Ministry leverage clauses.
No compulsory licensing.
When the seal was pressed and the parchment finalized, even the clerk hesitated before stamping it.
Some names carried weight.
This one carried history.
Flamel Manor — Pure Joy
At the Flamel estate, the hoverboard hovered obediently above the marble courtyard.
Nicolas Flamel stepped onto it first, laughing like a boy decades younger as it lifted him smoothly into the air.
"Incredible control," he muttered. "No instability, no magical turbulence…"
Perenelle clapped eagerly.
"My turn!"
She rode it next—and squealed with delight as it responded to her intent, gliding gently before circling the courtyard.
"Oh, Nicolas," she laughed, "I love this child."
Nicolas smiled, watching the board obey effortlessly.
"This isn't innovation," he said quietly.
"This is instinctual genius."
The Ministry Notices—Then Freezes
It didn't take long.
Reports surfaced.
Witnesses talked.
A non-broom flying device reached the Department of Magical Transportation.
Plans were drafted.
Committees assembled.
Then someone read the name.
Lucien Aurelius Peverell Lionhardt.
The room went silent.
Peverell heir.
Ancient bloodline.
Two Wizengamot seats by inheritance.
Backed by multiple neutral and old families.
Now—quietly supported by the Black family.
One official cleared his throat.
"Proceed… carefully."
Another murmured,
"Or don't proceed at all."
Within a day, every aggressive proposal vanished from the docket.
The Ministry decided—very wisely—to observe.
The Business World Reacts
The wizarding business sector, however, had no such restraint.
Letters poured in.
Nimbus competitors.
Foreign broom manufacturers.
Experimental design firms.
All offering positions:
Chief Designer Head Innovator Exclusive Consultant
Lucien skimmed them once.
Then ignored them entirely.
He had no interest in being employed.
Two Letters That Mattered
Only two letters stayed on his desk.
Cleansweep
—A once-proud company now bleeding profits, desperate enough to approach its current owner with honesty rather than arrogance.
And Firebolt.
A company drowning in debt.
A company Lucien already owned 70% of.
Lucien wrote back to both—brief, precise, polite.
Appointments can be arranged during the Christmas holidays.
We will discuss feasibility, not fantasies.
He sealed the letters calmly.
As winter crept closer, Lucien remained unhurried.
The Ministry watched him carefully.
Inventors whispered his name.
Ancient figures smiled knowingly.
And Lucien?
He simply returned to his classes, his friends, his lovers—and his quiet habit of changing the world without asking permission.