Less than two hours after opening, the five hundred copies on the counter had sold out.
The shop assistants had no choice but to keep bringing stock out from the warehouse, but every time they placed a fresh batch on the shelves, the waiting customers swept them clean.
By three in the afternoon, Alfred had no choice but to call the publisher and place an urgent additional order.
“Send another thousand copies!” he shouted into the phone.
“As quickly as possible!”
The same scene was playing out in Manchester.
The long queue outside Simon’s Bookshop made even the owner of the bakery next door terribly envious.
Simon stood personally at the shop entrance, maintaining order, a broad smile fixed on his face the entire time.
“No need to rush, no need to rush!
There’s enough for everyone!” he shouted to the people in line.
“We ordered two thousand copies this time.
Plenty to go around!”
A young girl at the very front of the queue hopped excitedly.
“Really?
I can finally buy one!
I’ve gone to several bookshops, and every one of them said they were out of stock!”
“Don’t worry, young lady.” Simon patted his chest.
“Today, I guarantee you’ll get one.”
After the girl bought her copy, she walked out of the bookshop holding it as though it were some priceless treasure.
She sat down on a bench by the street and impatiently opened to the first page.
Meanwhile, in Liverpool, the telephone in Regional Manager William’s office rang one call after another.
“What?
Eight hundred copies are sold out?
We’ve only been open for four hours!”
“Transfer another five hundred over?
No, our central warehouse stock is nearly gone too.”
“Hello?
Bloomsbury?
I need to add to my order!
Yes, another three thousand copies for the entire Liverpool region!”
On that day, sales of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone across Great Britain surpassed five hundred thousand copies.
However, what truly caught Barry and Christopher off guard was the explosive popularity of related merchandise.
It all began with a boy named Jack.
The same Jack who had bought one of the first copies.
After finishing the first half, he had become completely obsessed with the magical world in the book.
He especially loved Harry’s holly wand.
“If only I could have a wand exactly like that.”
Jack lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and muttering to himself.
He ran to a toy shop, but there was no Harry Potter merchandise at all.
So Jack made a bold decision.
He would make one himself.
He carved a branch into the shape of a wand, painted it brown and grey, and finally glued a small transparent plastic bead to the end, pretending it was a phoenix feather.
Once it was finished, he waved the “wand” around his room for half the day, feeling as if he had truly become a wizard.
The next day, he brought the wand to school.
“Whoa!
What’s that?” His deskmate Tom’s eyes went wide when he saw it.
“Harry’s wand,” Jack said proudly.
“I made it myself.”
Tom took it and examined it carefully.
“It actually looks pretty close!
Can you make one for me too?”
“Of course.”
And just like that, Jack began making wands for his classmates one after another.
After word spread, more and more people came to him to place orders.
By the weekend, he had already received more than twenty orders.
Jack was so busy he could hardly have been happier, but his mother was far less pleased.
“Jack, your room is a complete mess!” his mother said from the doorway, frowning at the wood shavings and paint scattered all over the floor.
“Mum, I’m doing business,” Jack said without looking up.
“What business?”
“Making wands.
Fifty pence each.
I’ve already earned ten pounds.”
His mother froze for a moment, then shook her head, half amused and half helpless.
Meanwhile, far away at Bloomsbury Publishing, Barry also noticed this trend in a report from the marketing department.
“Barry, take a look at this.”
Emily, the head of marketing, walked into Barry’s office holding a report.
Barry took it and glanced over it.
“What’s this?”
“Our market researchers have found that in several major cities, quite a few children are spontaneously making props from the book.”
“Wands, wizard robes, even Sorting Hats.”
“And there’s a great deal of demand for these homemade items.
Some children are even willing to pay for them.”
Barry set down the report and tapped the desk thoughtfully.
“You mean…”
“We should launch official merchandise,” Emily said.
“Properly licensed wands, wizard robes, scarves, badges.
“That’s a good idea.” Barry nodded.
“But we’ve never made merchandise before.
We’ve no experience in that area.”
“We can partner with professional toy manufacturers,” Emily said.
“I’ve already contacted three interested companies.
They’re all very keen.”
Barry thought for a moment, then made his decision.
“All right.
I’ll leave this to you.
Put together a proposal as soon as possible.”
Emily nodded, turned, and left the office.
Very soon, the first batch of officially licensed Harry Potter merchandise went on sale.
The products included Harry’s wand, made to look like holly with a decorative phoenix-feather core; Gryffindor scarves in red and gold; Hogwarts school robes in black, complete with House badges; and a miniature Quidditch model set, including a Golden Snitch.
The moment these products were released, they immediately triggered a new wave of buying frenzy.
In toy shops across London, parents queued in long lines to buy wands for their children.
One middle-aged man bought three wands at once, and the shop assistant asked curiously, “Sir, do you have three children at home?”
“No,” the man said with a smile.
“One is for my son, one is for my nephew…”
“And one is for me.”
He lifted his head proudly.
The shop assistant froze for a moment, then smiled knowingly.
In a Manchester shopping centre, Gryffindor scarves sold out on the very first day.
A young girl who couldn’t get one was so anxious she nearly cried.
In the end, the shop assistant took the scarf off the display mannequin and sold it to her.
“Thank you!” the girl said, hugging the scarf and breaking into a smile through her tears.
“You’re welcome,” the shop assistant said helplessly.
“But please come earlier next time.”
In a gift shop in Edinburgh, the miniature Quidditch model became the most popular gift item.
An elderly grandmother bought five sets in one go, saying she wanted to give them to her grandchildren as Christmas presents.
“You have quite a lot of grandchildren,” the shop assistant remarked.
“No,” the old lady said, shaking her head.
“I’m keeping one set for myself too.”
“This book reminds me of the feeling I had when I read The Chronicles of Narnia when I was young.
It’s simply wonderful.”
The shop assistant smiled as she helped wrap the sets, inwardly sighing with emotion.
The charm of this book truly crossed every age.
Of course, what the Muggles did not know was that among the crowds queuing in bookshops and merchandise shops, there were also some rather special customers.