Every display window framed a young girl in tailored, shimmering clothes that looked expensive but not flashy.
Their faces were young, but each one was knockout beautiful—eyes you couldn’t look away from.
Harry tugged his mother’s sleeve and whispered, “Mom, is this place straight-up selling people?” Mrs.
Potter glanced at him with a small smile.
“These girls aren’t cheap merchandise.
They’re witches.
They just can’t apply to Hogwarts or the other schools because of their family line.” Harry kept staring at the windows.
“Still feels wrong.
They look free, but standing there like that… it’s like they’ve got a price tag on them anyway.” “Harry,” she said softly, “this isn’t some back-alley racket.
It’s called the talent market for a reason.
Choice goes both ways.
Every wizard family can only pick one girl, and they sign a Gilded Contract that locks in her safety—body and mind.
No one gets to just toss her aside later.
Sure, money and power can bend things, but most of the time the contract gets them a real magical education, a decent job, and then they decide whether to stay or walk.
It’s their call.” The attendant who’d brought them in suddenly raised his voice.
“Welcome the distinguished guests of the Potter family to the Rose Pavilion!” The whole place went quiet for half a second, then the air changed.
Wizards in sharp suits shot them looks packed with envy, jealousy, and raw calculation.
Every girl in the windows turned toward Harry at once, eyes lighting up like they’d just spotted dinner.
Harry felt like a fat slab of ham dangling from a tree while a pack of wolves licked their chops.
Creepy as hell.
He shifted closer to his mom and tried to focus on the girls instead.
Most of them didn’t pose or shout.
They just stood there, calmly introducing themselves to anyone who stopped.
A few had propped little signs with their details in the windows, but the girls themselves had stepped out—clearly they’d gotten the message.
More and more of them emerged from doors behind the displays, tucking the signs away and presenting themselves directly.
Harry felt every burning stare as he walked past.
The pressure built fast.
He grabbed his mother’s hand and changed the subject.
“Mom, what’s wrong with their backgrounds?
Why can’t they apply to magic school?” “Most come from Muggle neighborhoods on the edge of the city,” she said quietly.
“At least one parent’s a Muggle.
That’s the rule—only kids with two wizard parents even get to apply to Hogwarts or the European schools.
And the schools dig deep into family history before they approve anything.” “What about the boys?” Harry asked.
It didn’t seem fair that only the girls got this shot.
“Boys from mixed families go with the plain-looking girls to the Silent Tower for basic training.
After that they become magical laborers—cleaning up the wasteland, that kind of work.
But if one of them manages to marry into a proper wizard family, their kids get full wizard status and can apply to school like anyone else.” It still sounded rough, but at least there was a way out—as long as the jobs didn’t kill them first.
They kept walking past window after window without slowing down.
Harry was starting to wonder what they were actually here for when a thick wave of sweet perfume rolled over them.
“Darling Lily!
It’s been forever!” The voice was high, dramatic, and way too loud.
A man in a bright pink dress, a fluffy fur stole draped across his shoulders, and ridiculous crescent-moon heels minced straight toward them, hips swinging like he owned the runway.
Harry blinked.
The guy was definitely male—makeup caked on thick, but still a man.
He watched, weirded out, as the man stopped right in front of Mrs.
Potter.
Those heels looked like they’d snap an ankle on anyone normal, but he moved like he’d been born in them.
“Jones,” Mrs.
Potter said warmly.
“It really has been a long time.” “Twenty-one years, love,” Jones replied, forcing his deep voice into that strange, breathy falsetto.
“I’ve been wondering when I’d see you again.
I send invitations to the Potter family every single year, you know.” Harry looked up at the strange man, curiosity winning out.
This was one of Mom’s old friends?
They sounded pretty close.
“And this must be your boy!
Goodness, you and Mr.
Potter kept him hidden well.
Not a whisper until he’s almost eleven.
When’s his birthday?
Has to be before September first, right?
Otherwise Hogwarts wouldn’t have accepted him.
What kind of gift should I get the little prince?” Jones reached out with a hand covered in bright, colorful nail polish and gave Harry’s cheek a playful pinch.
The touch made Harry’s skin crawl.
He ducked behind his mother fast.
“This one’s a little shy,” Mrs.
Potter said, shielding him with one arm.
“Oh, this little rascal’s got spunk—and that face?
Pure trouble for the girls.
One look and half the pavilion will be dreaming of class jumps.” Jones fluttered his fingers in front of his mouth and laughed, his whole body shaking like a tower in the wind.
“Jones,” Mrs.
Potter said with patient amusement, “let’s save the catching up for later.” “Right, right—business first!” Jones clapped his hands.
“VIP room, this way.
I’ll have the register sent over immediately.” He spun on one heel and sashayed deeper into the pavilion, leading the way.
Harry followed, glancing back at the windows one last time before tugging his mother’s sleeve.
Mrs.
Potter looked down, eyebrows raised in question.
“Mom,” Harry asked quietly, “did you and Dad meet here?” She smiled, soft and a little nostalgic.
“We did.
So don’t get the wrong idea about this place.
It’s a special children’s welfare program—a big, extended family.” Harry stopped for a second as it all clicked into place.
The attendant shouting the Potter name.
The sudden shift in the air.
The hungry stares from every girl in the windows.
Lily Evans had pulled off a miracle right here.
She’d met James Potter and written the perfect love story that everyone still talked about.
Now the Potter family’s young master had shown up, and plenty of people were probably hoping lightning would strike twice.
As Harry and Mrs.
Potter followed Jones toward the VIP room, outside the Rose Pavilion…