A few mornings later, the London fog had yet to fully clear.
Christopher sat in his office, the telephone in front of him ringing almost without pause.
He had only just hung up after a call from a bookshop in Edinburgh asking for more stock when the phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“Christopher, it’s me.” Barry’s voice was noticeably hoarse.
“How are things on your end?”
“Since six this morning, I’ve taken more than a dozen calls.” Christopher rubbed his temples.
“All of them asking for more books.”
“Same here.” Barry sighed.
“The printing house has been running nonstop for five days.
The workers are on rotating shifts, and the machines are practically smoking.”
“Can we add another production line?”
“We’re already doing that,” Barry said.
“But to be honest with you, even if we add two more, I’m afraid we still won’t keep up with the current demand.”
Christopher fell silent for a moment.
“Do you know what happened this morning?” Barry suddenly asked.
“What?”
“The literary review column in The Times gave the book a small recommendation.
Only about the size of a little block of text.”
Christopher sat up straight.
“Really?”
“Really.” Barry’s voice carried a trace of excitement.
“It was only a few short lines, but you know what that means.”
“The mainstream press is starting to notice.”
“Exactly,” Barry said.
“And it’s not just The Times.
I’ve heard people at The Guardian and The Daily Telegraph are starting to write pieces too.”
Christopher leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.
Suddenly, he felt that everything was happening even faster than he had expected.
“And this is only the first half.”
“That’s right.
This book’s potential is even greater than we imagined.”
“I think this book is going to sell all over the world.”
“When you said that before, I was still a little doubtful,” Barry said, excitement in his voice.
“But now, I completely believe it can.”
The two of them laughed together.
…
At the same time, in an alley in East London, a middle-aged man in an old trench coat was standing in front of the window of a small bookshop.
His name was Edmund.
He was an ordinary journalist in the Muggle world.
Of course, “ordinary” was only from a Muggle point of view.
In truth, he was one of the observers the Ministry of Magic had stationed in the Muggle world, responsible for watching for any unusual incidents in Muggle society.
The job was mind-numbingly dull.
His daily work consisted of sitting in cafés reading newspapers, occasionally strolling through parks, and recording the daily lives of Muggles.
Today, he was out on patrol as usual.
As he passed a bookshop, the corner of his eye caught a poster in the window.
On the poster was a little boy wearing round glasses, with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
A line of text was printed above him:
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One — selling fast!
Edmund’s pupils contracted sharply.
Harry Potter.
There was no one in the entire wizarding world who didn’t know that name.
On the night You-Know-Who fell, this was the boy who had survived. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
He had defeated You-Know-Who himself and brought the wizarding war to an end.
But now, why were his name and image appearing on a book written by a Muggle?
Edmund’s heartbeat began to quicken.
He forced himself to stay calm and pushed open the bookshop door.
Behind the counter, a young clerk was sorting through a pile of delivery slips.
When he saw someone come in, he immediately looked up.
“Welcome!”
“Hello.” Edmund walked to the counter and tried to make his tone sound casual.
“I wanted to ask about the book on the poster in the window…”
“Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone?” The clerk smiled.
“Sold out, sir.
Sold out ages ago.”
“Sold out?” Edmund frowned.
“That quickly?”
“Yes.
That book’s been incredibly popular lately,” the clerk said, lowering his voice a little.
“Our boss says it’s the fastest-selling book he’s ever had since opening this shop.”
Edmund was silent for a moment, then decided to approach the question from another angle.
“This book… what’s it about?”
The clerk paused, then his eyes lit up.
“You haven’t read it?
Then I strongly recommend you buy a copy.”
“It’s about a boy who grew up living in the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt and uncle’s house.
Later, he discovers he’s a wizard and gets accepted into a magic school called Hogwarts.”
“There’s a talking hat, staircases that move, matches played on broomsticks… it’s brilliant.”
Edmund froze.
What did he mean, “grew up living in the cupboard under the stairs”?
Had the savior of the wizarding world truly lived such a miserable life?
No, this wasn’t the time to think about that.
Hogwarts, a talking hat, matches played on broomsticks—that had to be Quidditch.
Weren’t all of those things part of the wizarding world?
How could they possibly appear in a book in the Muggle world?
“Who’s the author?” he asked indirectly.
“Allen Wayne,” the clerk said.
“A debut author.
No one had heard of him before.”
It’s not just you who hasn’t heard of him.
I’ve never heard of anyone by that name in the wizarding world either…
Edmund nodded and asked no further questions.
He turned and left the bookshop, taking a deep breath of London’s damp air.
He had to return to the Ministry of Magic immediately and report this to his superiors.
Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts.
A gray-haired witch stood before the shelves, holding a book in her hands, her brows tightly furrowed.
Her name was Millicent.
She was a regular customer of the bookshop and a long-time subscriber to The Daily Prophet.
Today, she had originally come to buy one of Lockhart’s new books, only to notice a strange book on the counter.
There was no magical trace on the cover, and the paper was rough Muggle printing stock.
But the title made her stop in her tracks.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One.
No mistake.
Those were the words.
“Mr.
Blotts,” she called to the shopkeeper, who was tidying the shelves.
“Where did this book come from?”
Blotts turned around, glanced at the book in her hands, and revealed a peculiar expression.
“Oh, that,” he said.
“A young wizard left it in my shop this morning.”
“Said he brought it back from the Muggle world.
Apparently, it’s selling like mad over there.”
Millicent’s eyebrows rose.
“Written by a Muggle?”
“Yes… probably.” Blotts nodded.
“The author’s called Allen Wayne.”
“It mentions Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and even that boy’s name.”
Millicent opened the book and swept her gaze across a few lines.
She read about the Dursleys.
She read about some of the things that had happened on Privet Drive.
Then she couldn’t bear it anymore.
“This is impossible,” she said in a low voice.
“Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who.
How could he possibly have lived so miserably as a child?”
“This book must be complete nonsense!”
She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
“But how did matters concerning Harry Potter and the wizarding world end up written in a Muggle-world book?”
“I find it strange as well,” Blotts said.
“But this book really has begun circulating in the Muggle world.”
“I heard it’s already sold tens of thousands of copies.”
Millicent was silent for a moment, then closed the book.
“I’ll buy this copy,” she said.
“How much?”
Blotts waved a hand.
“This book was left here by another customer.
I can’t sell it.”
“If you want to know more, you’d be better off going into the Muggle world and buying a copy yourself.”
Only then did Millicent remember that the book belonged to another customer.
She could only put it down and hurry out of Flourish and Blotts, intending to go into the Muggle world to buy it herself.
Blotts watched her leave, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.
“I hear this book’s been snatched clean off the shelves in the Muggle world already.
Going now might be a bit late.”
“Good thing I had Flourish go into the Muggle world this morning to buy a copy for me.”
Just as he was thinking this, a man stepped in through the door.
It was the other owner of Flourish and Blotts, Mr.
Flourish.
“Ah, Flourish!
Where’s the book I asked you to buy for me?” Blotts stared in surprise at Flourish’s empty hands.
“Don’t even mention it.
The Muggle world’s been out of stock for ages.
I ran through several districts, and every single bookshop was sold out!” Flourish said helplessly.
“What?!”
~
Push the book forward by Adding to library and sending powerstones~!