Voldemort on Wall Street, Part 2: The Dark Lord’s First Week

An unofficial Harry Potter parody. Blackthorn Capital, its portfolio company, and the office characters in this story are fictional.

If you missed the interview, start with Lord Voldemort Goes to a Wall Street Job Interview.

By Tuesday morning, Lord Voldemort had acquired the young man in the navy suit.

His name was Ethan, and he arrived carrying a laptop, a notebook, and the cautious optimism of someone whose student loans had begun charging interest.

“You are to be my right hand,” Voldemort told him.

“Great. Is that an associate position?”

“You shall carry out my will.”

“Does it include health insurance?”

Voldemort regarded him coldly.

“I can offer protection from death.”

“Dental, though?”

They settled on executive assistant.

Ethan’s first assignment was to explain why the Dark Lord’s turnaround spreadsheet said #REF! in forty-seven places.

“Someone deleted the source data,” Ethan said.

“It displeased me.”

“We still need it.”

“I have never restored something merely because it was useful.”

Ethan glanced at the résumé framed behind Voldemort’s desk.

“Didn’t you come back twice?”

Voldemort decided the boy would require supervision.

The Dark Lord Meets IT

At nine, IT arrived.

The technician was named Denise. She wore a fleece jacket and carried no visible weapon, which Voldemort assumed was a negotiating tactic.

“I’m here to set up your account.”

“I already have an account. A long and terrible one.”

“Your email.”

He watched her type.

“Your temporary password is in this envelope. You’ll need to change it.”

He entered Voldemort.

The system rejected it.

“Your password needs a special character,” Denise said.

“I am a special character.”

“And a number.”

He tried Voldemort7!.

The system rejected that, too.

“You can’t use your name.”

For decades, he had forbidden people to speak his name. Now, when he finally wished to use it, a machine was enforcing the policy.

He chose HarryPotterMustDie7!.

A green check appeared.

“Great,” Denise said. “Now we’ll set up multifactor authentication.”

“What is that?”

“Proof that you’re you.”

“I am the only person in this building without a nose.”

“You still need the app.”

A Meeting That Could Have Been a Threat

By eleven, Voldemort had summoned the department heads.

Ethan sent a calendar invitation titled MANDATORY AUDIENCE WITH THE DARK LORD.

Three people accepted. Two marked themselves tentative. Someone proposed a new time.

“Who,” Voldemort whispered, “has proposed a new time?”

“Accounts payable.”

“Bring them to me.”

“They’re closing the month.”

“I am opening an age of darkness.”

“Could that start at two?”

The meeting began at two.

Voldemort stood at the head of the table.

“I understand you have concerns about leadership.”

Nobody spoke.

He smiled. This was familiar territory.

“Excellent. The concerns have been resolved.”

A woman at the far end raised her hand.

“Yes?” he hissed.

“Priya. Operations. Are we getting approval to replace the ordering system?”

“You may submit your request.”

“We did.”

“To whom?”

“Brad.”

“When?”

“January.”

Voldemort turned to Ethan.

“Is January a department?”

“No. It’s a while ago.”

Priya slid a folder across the table.

Customers were canceling orders. Staff were entering the same information into three different systems. Replacement software had been proposed, priced, and left waiting for a signature.

“Why did no one tell me?” Voldemort demanded.

“You said questions were forbidden,” Priya said.

“Challenges to my supremacy were forbidden.”

“Should we put that distinction in the employee handbook?”

Ethan wrote it down.

Team Building with the Death Eaters

On Wednesday, Karen stopped by.

“People are nervous about your leadership style.”

“Good.”

“The board wants improved morale.”

“Why?”

“People who like working here tend to stay.”

“In my previous organization, people stayed because I knew where they lived.”

Karen placed a brochure on his desk.

“Team building.”

Voldemort studied the photographs.

A group of adults stood beside a rope course, smiling as though someone had threatened their families.

“This appears promising.”

“We thought an escape room.”

His eyes brightened.

“I have considerable experience designing those.”

The activity took place in Conference Room B.

Voldemort sealed the door, darkened the windows, and enchanted a stone basin in the middle of the table.

“To obtain the key,” he announced, “one of you must drink the potion.”

Karen examined the basin.

“What’s in it?”

“Despair.”

“Any dairy?”

“No.”

She nodded.

“We have two intolerances.”

Ethan raised his hand.

“Could we solve a puzzle instead?”

“The puzzle is deciding which of you is expendable.”

Priya inspected the door.

Then she took out her phone.

Four minutes later, Denise arrived with a facilities manager.

They removed the door from its hinges.

The department heads left for lunch.

Voldemort stared at the open doorway.

“My protections were impenetrable.”

“Your protections were on the door,” Denise said.

“The frame belonged to the landlord.”

Karen checked her watch.

“Actually, this went well. Operations and IT worked together.”

Voldemort added door frames to his list of enemies.

The Turnaround Plan

By Thursday evening, Ethan had rebuilt the spreadsheet.

The numbers were bad.

“Turn them green,” Voldemort instructed.

“I can change the font.”

“Then do it.”

“They’ll still be losses.”

“But green losses.”

Ethan rotated the laptop.

“The board will ask what the plan actually fixes.”

Voldemort pointed to the first slide of his presentation.

OBEDIENCE.

“They might want more detail.”

He advanced to the second slide.

TOTAL OBEDIENCE.

Ethan took a long breath.

“Priya’s team has a proposal.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yours has a skull on every slide.”

“Brand consistency.”

Ethan opened Priya’s document.

The solution was disappointingly practical. Approve the software. Stop requiring Brad’s personal permission for routine purchases. Let the people who handled customer orders fix customer orders.

Voldemort studied it.

“How will they know I am in charge?”

“Your name is on the approval.”

“And if they fail?”

“We look at what went wrong.”

“Then punish them.”

“We could try fixing it.”

The Dark Lord leaned back.

He had spent years surrounding himself with people who agreed with everything he said. It had been extremely pleasant, right up until the repeated catastrophes.

“What does Priya require?”

“Money and permission.”

Voldemort considered this.

“Give her permission.”

“And the money?”

“Must she have both?”

Brad Has Some Feedback

Brad arrived at seven thirty.

“Love the energy, Tom.”

Voldemort disliked the way Brad said his old name. It sounded like a man patting a large dog that belonged to someone else.

Brad skimmed the presentation.

“Let’s lose the software spending.”

“It will reduce errors.”

“Eventually. The board wants immediate savings.”

“Priya says your approvals are delaying orders.”

Brad smiled.

“Priya sees the business from an operational perspective.”

“What perspective do you use?”

“Strategic.”

Ethan looked down at his notebook.

Brad pointed at a row in the spreadsheet.

“Take fifteen percent out of staffing. That makes the quarter look better.”

“What happens to the orders?”

“The remaining team becomes more efficient.”

“How?”

“They know we’re serious.”

Voldemort had used this logic before. Usually just before discovering he had run out of competent followers.

Brad handed him a revised slide.

LEADERSHIP ACCOUNTABILITY: TOM RIDDLE

“Just routine,” he said.

Voldemort read the small print.

If the plan failed, the chief transformation officer would take responsibility. If it succeeded, Blackthorn Capital’s management approach would receive the credit.

He read it again.

The arrangement was magnificent.

He resented being on the wrong end of it.

The Board Meeting

Friday’s meeting began at nine.

Seven board members sat around a polished table. None bowed.

Voldemort made a note to revisit the seating arrangements.

Brad introduced him.

“Tom brings a disruptive background and a fresh approach to organizational discipline.”

Voldemort stood.

“I have ruled through fear,” he began. “I have demanded loyalty. I have concealed vital assets in remote locations and assumed no one would find them.”

A board member leaned forward.

“Is this relevant to the turnaround?”

“I am establishing that I recognize a bad management system.”

Ethan clicked to the next slide.

ORDERS WAITING FOR APPROVAL: 183

Brad shifted in his chair.

“Some context might help.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort said.

He pointed his wand at the screen.

An email appeared.

Let’s hold this until after quarter-end. Don’t want the spend hitting yet. — Brad

Brad laughed once.

“That’s an internal discussion.”

More emails appeared.

Please stop copying me on customer complaints.

Can we classify the cancellations differently?

Someone should really own this.

The last message sat above Brad’s signature.

The room became quiet.

It was the most satisfying silence Voldemort had heard all week.

“How did you get those?” Brad asked.

“Ethan assembled the appendix.”

Ethan lifted one finger.

“You copied me.”

A New Kind of Power

The board approved the software.

It also approved Priya’s authority to make routine operational decisions.

Voldemort objected to the phrase “without further executive approval,” but accepted it after Ethan explained that this meant fewer meetings.

Brad’s proposed staffing cuts were postponed.

His own spending was reviewed.

A board member asked why the company was paying for a private car while its ordering system repeatedly crashed.

“Client relationships,” Brad said.

“Which clients?”

“There’s a broader picture.”

Voldemort waited for that picture to appear.

It did not.

After the meeting, Priya approached him.

“Thank you.”

He regarded her suspiciously.

“For what?”

“Listening.”

“I was identifying a rival’s weakness.”

“Well, it helped.”

She left.

Voldemort stood in the hallway, unsettled by having produced a useful result without anyone screaming.

Ethan came up beside him.

“The board liked the presentation.”

“Naturally.”

“They want you on the executive committee.”

“What does this committee control?”

“Mostly other committees.”

Voldemort smiled.

At last. A hierarchy worth infiltrating.

The Dark Lord’s Reward

At five, Karen delivered his compensation paperwork.

“Your incentive package.”

Voldemort opened it.

There was a bonus target and something called restricted stock.

“When do I receive this?”

“It vests over four years.”

“And if I leave?”

“You lose the unvested portion.”

“If I am dismissed?”

“That depends on the agreement.”

Voldemort read the paragraph again.

The company had attached part of his future wealth to his continued service, placed it beyond his immediate reach, and arranged for him to fear losing it.

He looked up slowly.

“You have made a Horcrux.”

“It’s an equity award.”

“You have bound me to an object.”

“It’s mostly electronic.”

“You expect me to protect it for years.”

“We hope you’ll feel invested.”

Voldemort closed the folder.

For once, he had nothing to add.

That evening, he passed the Chamber of Productivity.

Someone had put the old break-room sign back up.

Priya was showing Ethan how to submit the software order. Denise was eating a sandwich. Nobody stood when he entered.

Voldemort considered demanding their attention.

Instead, he approached the coffee machine.

It displayed a message.

PLEASE EMPTY GROUNDS CONTAINER.

He stared at it.

Then he looked at Ethan.

The boy shook his head.

“I’m off at six.”

Voldemort glanced at the clock.

Six oh one.

Slowly, with the dignity of a fallen emperor lifting his own luggage, the Dark Lord removed the container.

He emptied it.

The machine produced a coffee.

For the first time all week, he had received exactly what he asked for.

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