Early the next morning, Barry handed the manuscript of the second half to the editorial team.
Incidentally, Christopher’s holiday plans had now been completely ruined.
He had entered work mode once again, suffering and enjoying himself at the same time.
The entire Bloomsbury Publishing house had fallen into a state bordering on insanity.
The editors took turns reading through the manuscript.
Every one of them wanted to be the first to finish it, yet none of them could bear to read too quickly.
Suppressed gasps and low curses kept sounding from the office.
At the same time, good news came from the printing houses.
Starting today, the daily output of [Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One] had reached an astonishing fifty thousand copies.
The problem of insufficient stock had been completely resolved.
In its place was a steady, continuous supply capacity.
Christopher immediately told Barry the news.
“Tell all our partnered distributors,” Barry said to his assistant after putting down the phone.
“Starting today, supply is unlimited.
However many they want, that’s how many we’ll give them.”
The news spread through bookshops across Great Britain like wildfire.
The first to receive the notice was Alfred, manager of the Oxford Street flagship bookshop in London.
After putting down the phone, he suddenly sprang up from his chair.
“Mary!” he shouted toward the door.
“Bring me the purchase order!
Cross it all out and fill it in again!”
His assistant Mary hurried in, still holding a stack of unfinished order forms.
“Manager, what happened?”
“The publisher says Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One is now available in unlimited supply!”
Alfred rubbed his hands together, the smile on his face almost overflowing.
“How many should we order?”
Mary thought for a moment.
“Previously, we could only get two hundred copies each time.
If there’s no limit now… five hundred?”
“Five hundred?”
Alfred shook his head.
“Too stingy.
One thousand.”
“O-one thousand?” Mary’s eyes widened.
“Manager, this is still a book by a debut author.”
“A debut author?”
Alfred laughed.
“Mary, go and look outside.”
“We haven’t even opened yet this morning, and there are already more than thirty people queuing.
Every one of them is here for that book.”
“One thousand copies, and I’m worried it still won’t be enough.”
Mary opened her mouth, but in the end, she said nothing.
She lowered her head and wrote the number 1000 on the purchase order.
In Simon’s Bookshop in Manchester, Boss Simon was grinning so broadly over the phone that he could barely close his mouth.
“Hello?
Is this Bloomsbury?
This is Simon from Simon’s Bookshop in Manchester.
Yes, that’s right, the one who previously ordered five hundred copies.”
“What?
There’s no limit now?
Excellent!
I want two thousand copies!”
“Two thousand?!” The publishing house employee on the other end sounded rather shocked.
“Mr.
Simon, are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
Simon leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.
“Last time, five hundred copies sold out in three days.
This time, two thousand copies will probably only last a week.”
“Just send the stock.
I’ve already cleared the space on my end.”
After hanging up, Simon gave the clerk beside him a thumbs-up.
“See?
That’s what you call vision.”
The clerk smiled helplessly.
“Boss, you said the same thing when you ordered five hundred copies last time.”
“And they still sold out…” he added quietly.
“Er, that time was an accident.”
Simon awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
In a chain bookshop in Liverpool, regional manager William was holding an emergency meeting.
“Everyone, I’ve just received news.
The supply issue for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One has been resolved.”
Standing in front of the whiteboard, he wrote a huge number with a marker.
“I intend for each of our seven Liverpool branches to order eight hundred copies.”
A chorus of sharp intakes of breath filled the meeting room.
“Eight hundred copies for each shop?
Doesn’t that mean we’ll be ordering five thousand six hundred copies?” one branch manager asked, raising a hand.
“That’s right.” William nodded.
“And this is only the first batch.
If sales are good, I’ll immediately place another order.”
“But Manager, can this book really sell that many?”
William walked to the window and pointed downstairs.
Through the glass, they could see a long, winding queue already forming outside the bookshop.
There were at least seventy or eighty people.
There were students in school uniforms, office workers carrying briefcases, young parents pushing prams.
Among them were even a few young people dressed in strange outfits. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
They wore black cloaks and held objects that looked like a tree branches.
Apparently, this was a kind of cosplay that had suddenly become popular recently.
“Do you see those people?” William said.
“They’re all here to buy that book.”
“If we don’t order enough stock, they’ll go to other bookshops.
We can’t hand business over to our competitors.”
The branch managers looked at one another, then finally nodded.
In an independent bookshop in Edinburgh, the owner, Duncan, was gesturing wildly as he spoke into the phone.
“Three thousand copies!
Yes, three thousand!
You heard me correctly!”
“Mr.
Duncan, didn’t you only order fifty copies before?” the publisher’s employee on the other end asked in confusion.
“That was because there wasn’t enough stock before!” Duncan said with perfect confidence.
“Now that there’s stock, of course I have to order more!”
“But three thousand copies… can your small shop even hold that many?”
“I’ve cleared out all the old books in the warehouse!
The entire storeroom is empty now, just waiting to be filled with Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone!”
After hanging up, Duncan rubbed his hands together and said to his wife beside him,
“Darling, we’re going to make a fortune this time.”
His wife was knitting behind the counter.
Without even raising her head, she said,
“You said the same thing last time when you ordered that New History book.
There are still three hundred copies piled up in the basement.”
“That’s different!” Duncan said.
“That one was an academic work.
This one is a novel!
Novels sell quickly!”
“I hope so,” his wife said mildly.
Duncan did not argue any further.
He walked to the window and looked at the people queuing outside, a confident smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.
This time, I’m definitely going to sell big.
Bookshops throughout Great Britain were welcoming an unprecedented boom.
Almost every bookshop hung up a custom-made giant poster on the same day.
On the poster, a little boy wearing round glasses stood in front of a steam train.
Above his head stretched a brilliant starry sky, and beneath his feet lay a stone path leading toward a distant castle.
At the bottom of the poster, large gilded letters read:
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One – Now Fully in Stock!
In the window of the Oxford Street flagship store, the poster occupied an entire wall.
Alfred stood at the entrance, watching the queue stretch from the door all the way to the street corner.
His heart was filled with both excitement and nervousness.
“Will one thousand copies be enough?” he asked himself in a low voice.
The answer was:
Not enough.