CHAPTER 33: THE HERBOLOGIST'S LEGACY
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Slowly, people began to make their decisions.
One by one, more than half of the original 28 stood and quietly left the room. Some gave me apologetic glances, others avoided my eyes entirely. But I understood their hesitation. This was not a commitment to be taken lightly.
When the last of them had exited, I turned back to the remaining twelve. Men and women of varying ages, their faces etched with determination, curiosity, and perhaps a touch of apprehension. These were the ones who had chosen to stay.
"This," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips, "is actually a much better result than I anticipated. I thank you for placing at least some of your trust in my promises and ideals. The thirteen of us shall become the founding members of FIRM."
I straightened my posture, adopting a more formal tone. "I will act as the founder and chairman of the federation, as I will be bankrolling this initiative. However, this is not a one-man show. Each of you will play a critical role in shaping the organization. Your roles and duties will be determined once we have signed the contract and discussed your areas of expertise."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and I could see a spark of energy beginning to form among them.
"Before we move forward, let me explain what I have planned," I said, gesturing for everyone to take their seats again.
Once they were settled, I began to outline my vision. "Our first priority is establishing a foundation of trust and credibility. We need to show the wizarding world what we stand for and why our cause matters. To do this, we will start small but impactful. Projects that directly benefit the community—scholarships for Muggle-born students, legal aid for those facing discrimination, and educational workshops to bridge the gap between magical and non-magical knowledge."
A man in his forties, with sharp eyes and a thoughtful expression, raised his hand. "How do you plan to fund these initiatives? You mentioned you'd be bankrolling the federation, but this sounds... ambitious."
I nodded, appreciating his pragmatism. "A fair question. I've secured initial funding through private means, and I have additional revenue streams that will ensure our financial stability for the foreseeable future. However, transparency will be key. I intend to keep detailed records of all expenditures and income, which will be accessible to all members."
A younger woman, perhaps in her late twenties, leaned forward. "And what about recruitment? If we're starting small, how do we grow without drawing too much attention?"
"Excellent point," I replied. "Our growth will be deliberate and strategic. We will focus on individuals who align with our values and have the skills to contribute meaningfully. Word of mouth, personal invitations, and subtle outreach will be our primary methods for now. We cannot afford to rush this."
An older woman, her voice steady and firm, spoke up. "What happens if we face resistance? From the Ministry, from pure-blood factions, or even from within our own ranks?"
I met her gaze, my expression serious. "Resistance is inevitable. That's why we must remain united and prepared. We will operate within the bounds of the law as much as possible, but we will also have contingencies in place for when those boundaries are unfairly used against us. And as for internal dissent, I trust that the contract and our shared commitment will help us navigate those challenges."
The room was quiet as they absorbed my words. Then, one by one, they began to nod.
"This is not an easy path," I said, my voice softening. "But it is a necessary one. Together, we can lay the groundwork for a better future—not just for ourselves, but for every Muggle-born who comes after us."
As I finished speaking, a sense of resolve settled over the group. The air was charged with a quiet determination, the kind that could move mountains.
"Now," I said, gesturing to the parchment on the table, "if you're ready, let's make it official."
I turned my attention to the trio standing before me. "Mr. Stone, Mr. Cromwell, and Mrs. Cromwell, you three will be the ones to establish this newspaper. Mr. Cromwell, you will take on the role of chief editor. Our goal is simple: to create a publication that stands for truth and credibility. Speed is secondary—what matters is that our paper becomes the most trusted source of news in the wizarding world. For now, we will maintain a neutral stance, refraining from attacks or critiques. The Daily Prophet thrives on sensationalism; we will rise above it."
I paused to let my words sink in before continuing. "I will provide the funding necessary for you to hire staff who share our vision. I have no doubt that there are others working for the Prophet who are tired of its deceit. Additionally, I will ensure you have all the equipment and resources needed to produce the paper."
At this, Mr. Stone stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "And you can provide all of that?"
I met his gaze steadily. "I have more than enough resources to fund every project I'm undertaking. This newspaper isn't about profit. News should serve the people, not the pockets of its publishers. I expect to incur losses, and I'm perfectly fine with that."
The trio exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from cautious optimism to genuine excitement. The possibility of surpassing the Prophet seemed to invigorate them.
"Then we'll do as you ask, Mr. Folster," Mr. Cromwell declared, his voice firm with determination. "You won't regret giving us this opportunity."
"I know I won't," I replied with a small smile. "But I do have one concern—overzealousness. I've read your articles, Mrs. Cromwell," I added with a teasing chuckle.
She crossed her arms, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "I'll be fine. Besides, Julian will nag me if I step out of line."
Her husband sighed, rubbing his temples, which only made the room break into light laughter.
As the moment of levity faded, I turned my attention to another individual seated at the table. "Mr. Timothy Mathews," I said, addressing the older man.
He was 53 years old, with shoulder-length gray hair and a slight hunch that reduced his height to about 5'7. His sharp green eyes held a spark of intellect, and the faint scent of potions lingered around him. Despite his unassuming appearance, Timothy Mathews was a man of extraordinary talent in the field of potions.
"You should have been a certified Potions Master decades ago," I began, my tone respectful. "Your innovations could have revolutionized brewing techniques. But instead, the establishment—threatened by your brilliance—blocked your certification. They stifled your work and left you to struggle alone."
Mathews's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "That's putting it lightly," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "Those purebloods couldn't handle the idea of change, especially not from someone like me."
I nodded, acknowledging his frustration. "Your time of being overlooked is over. I want you to head the research and development division of FIRM. Your expertise in potions and your innovative mind will be invaluable. Together, we'll create a space where talent is recognized and nurtured, not suppressed."
For a moment, Mathews was silent, his sharp eyes studying me intently. Then, he gave a slow nod. "If you're serious about this—about giving me the freedom to work without interference—then I'm in."
"I wouldn't have asked you if I weren't serious," I replied firmly.
A flicker of hope crossed his face, tempered by years of disappointment but unmistakably there.
"Good," I said, addressing the room once more. "With each of you contributing your unique talents, I have no doubt that we can build something extraordinary. Let's get to work."
Turning to Mr. Mathews, I handed him a thick leather-bound book. "Mr. Mathews, you shall become the shopkeeper for the apothecary I plan to open in a second building I own in Diagon Alley. This shop will serve as a hub for innovation, a place where current and aspiring potion masters can challenge themselves and contribute to the field. This volume contains my research—improvements on existing potions and some original work. Please give it a read while I speak with Madam Chambers."
Mathews accepted the book with trembling hands, his green eyes scanning the cover with a mixture of curiosity and reverence.
Next, I turned my attention to Madam Melody Chambers. The sight of her always reminded me of Professor Sprout, with her portly frame, curly gray hair, and twinkling green eyes. Her grandmotherly aura was a stark contrast to the pain she carried—a pain born of losing her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchild to Death Eaters. The injustice of their killers escaping punishment under the "Imperius defense" had fueled her anger, but the pureblood families had crushed her spirit, forcing her out of the wizarding world entirely.
"Madam Chambers," I began, my tone respectful, "I want you to oversee the development of a herb farm I'm establishing. The goal is to cultivate rare and challenging magical plants in large quantities—a task that requires someone of your skill and experience. I know it's a daunting prospect, but I believe you're the perfect person for the job."
Her kind eyes widened slightly, and I could see the glimmer of hope warring with disbelief.
"I've compiled notes on the subject," I continued, handing her a slim folder. "Please review them before giving me your feedback. I understand the weight of what I'm asking, but I also know your expertise is unmatched."
She took the folder with a steady hand, her gaze lingering on me. "You're giving me a chance to do what I love again," she said softly. "That means more than you know."
"I hope it's the first of many chances," I replied with a small smile.
I was about to address the next person, Mr. Oliver Gunn, when I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. Startled, I turned to see Mr. Mathews staring at me with fervent intensity, his hands shaking slightly.
"You wrote this?" he asked, his voice trembling as he held up the book.
"I did," I replied, unsure of where this was going.
"This... this is revolutionary!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with excitement. "These methods—these formulations—they're decades ahead of what's being taught. Do you have any idea what this could mean for potion-making?"
"That's precisely why I'm entrusting it to you," I said, meeting his gaze. "You've been held back long enough, Mr. Mathews. It's time for your brilliance to shine."
For a moment, he simply stared at me, his expression a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. "I'll make sure this apothecary becomes everything you envision—and more."
His words carried a weight of conviction that filled the room, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence in the team I was assembling.
"Did you truly think of these and create them yourself!? Do they work? Have they been tested? How did you do it?" Mr. Mathews fired off his questions with an energy I hadn't expected from the usually reserved man.
"Yes, Mr. Mathews," I replied calmly, meeting his eager gaze. "These are recipes I created, improved, and tested. Everything in this first volume can be brewed at any time."
"Did you say first volume?!" he exclaimed, his shock evident.
"Yes," I confirmed, pulling two more books from my bag. "These are the second and third volumes. They contain everything I've tested thus far. The rest remain theoretical and unrefined." I handed him the additional books, watching his eyes widen as he flipped through the pages.
"As I mentioned earlier, the apothecary isn't just a shop—it's a challenge to the field itself. I want to inspire innovation by rewarding those who improve existing recipes or create entirely new ones. Breaking Grounds Apothecary will be a place where the best and brightest in potion-making come to push the boundaries of what's possible."
"I'll do it," Mathews declared, his voice almost trembling with fervor. "I'll make it into a holy ground of potioneering. No one in the field will be able to ignore Breaking Grounds Apothecary."
His proclamation was almost fanatical, and I couldn't help but smile at his passion.
"I will have to agree with Mr. Mathews' enthusiasm," came the polite yet happy voice of Madam Chambers.
She held the folder I'd given her with a reverence that mirrored Mathews' reaction to the books. "If this information is true, you've revolutionized the field of Herbology with this book alone, Mr. Folster. And this is only the first in a series of four?"
"That's correct," I said with a nod.
She set the folder down and stood, her green eyes sparkling with a fire I hadn't seen before. "I shall plant every single one of these and shove the results in those pathetic old men's faces. They shall rue the day they stripped me of my title."
Her words carried a sharp edge of defiance, and I couldn't help but admire her determination.
"With your expertise, Madam Chambers, I have no doubt they'll be eating their words," I said with a small smile.
The room buzzed with renewed energy, the collective determination of the group filling the space. Each of them carried their own scars from the injustices of the wizarding world, and now, they had a chance to fight back—not with vengeance, but with brilliance and innovation.
"Let's make history," I said, my voice steady and confident.
"Together," Mathews said, his hand gripping the books tightly.
"Together," Madam Chambers echoed, her voice firm.
It was the beginning of something extraordinary.
"I am very happy to welcome both of you aboard," I said warmly, shaking their hands firmly. "We shall use Mr. Mathews' innovations regarding the brewing process to improve efficiency and set a new standard in the field. Additionally, we'll recruit talented individuals once the name of Breaking Grounds Apothecary spreads. As for the farm, it has been named Natural Cultivations. It will serve as a cornerstone for producing vast amounts of high-quality herbs while also offering opportunities for muggle-borns who struggle to find steady work in our world."
Madam Chambers nodded, her expression softening at the mention of helping others. "It's a noble cause. Training them will take time, but I'm more than willing to oversee it. I've always believed everyone deserves a chance to thrive."
"Precisely," I said. "The farm will be advertised through the information center and the paper, so it may take a while to truly get it off the ground. But once we do, it will not only supply our apothecary but also provide livelihoods to many."
Mr. Mathews clapped his hands together, his excitement still palpable. "Between the apothecary and the farm, we'll be reshaping two critical industries in the wizarding world. I can't wait to see how it all unfolds."
I smiled at their enthusiasm, already envisioning the impact these ventures would have.
"Now, onto the next matter," I said, turning toward Mr. Oliver Gunn.
The tall, broad-shouldered man stood with an air of quiet confidence. His dark brown hair was neatly combed back, and his piercing blue eyes watched me intently. Mr. Gunn was a former Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, renowned for his expertise in warding and magical security. After a near-fatal encounter with a cursed artifact, he had retired from the field, though his skills remained unparalleled.
"Mr. Gunn," I began, extending my hand, "I'd like to discuss a project that requires your expertise in security and warding. It's something I believe only someone of your caliber can handle."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm listening."
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