"Put the stick down, Tom. My localized wards are rated for Outer Gods; your little green flashlights are doing nothing but creating localized static. Let’s look at your portfolio.
Your asset management is a complete disaster. You took your primary capital—your soul—and fractured it into seven pieces. Asset fragmentation on this scale creates massive vulnerabilities! And where did you store these highly sensitive fragments? A diary, a cup, a tiara, and a snake. You didn't build a secure, diversified portfolio; you created an unregulated scavenger hunt for a group of teenagers.
And let’s talk about your operational focus. You claim to be the most powerful dark wizard in history, yet your entire business model is obsessed with infiltrating a secondary school in Scotland and terrorizing a boy who hasn't even taken his A-Levels.
Your scope is embarrassingly narrow.
Furthermore, your definition of 'dominance' is legally and magically bankrupt. Look at your 'Death Eaters.' They wear masks because they are cowards. They serve you because you threaten them with torture.
Where is the psychological friction?
Where is the profound, conscious choice to surrender?
When my submissive, Milly, kneels for me, she does it with her mind fully intact. She understands the agonizing weight of my authority and willingly yields to it. That consensual devotion generates infinite, high-yield creation magic.
What does your operation generate? A high turnover rate, constant betrayal, and a localized spike in property damage. You don't have willing subjects; you have a severely traumatized payroll.
And from a purely aesthetic standpoint, the physical depreciation you have subjected your own vessel to is completely unacceptable. You traded your nose for a parlor trick.
I'm closing this ledger. Consolidate your remaining soul fragments, get a rhinoplasty, and please, find an adult hobby. Your five minutes are up."