It was understandable. The amount of ingredients I'd placed an order for would be enough to make thousands of vials of Wiggenweld potion and keep an ordinary potion seller afloat for years. Nobody could – or would – buy so many healing potions in normal circumstances. Not in the Wizarding World, at least. At best, potion makers sold maybe a dozen vials of Wiggenweld potion a month. And Cyrus Greengrass would have heard if there was a new potion seller in Diagon Alley or one of the other magical towns and villages.
But I wasn't selling my products to witches or wizards. And a ton of Wiggentree bark would be used up quickly, in a month or so based on the current sales I was seeing.
Cyrus clearly looked skeptical of my claim, but I had a way to convince him.
"This is the amount of money I've made since opening my store this summer," I told him, sliding a folded-up piece of parchment his way. Cyrus took it, and his eyes widened comically at the numbers written upon it.
Over fifty thousand galleons in just a couple months was a staggering sum for a business in the Wizarding World. And thanks to my connections with the British Chemical Concern, my goods would be in multiple stores and pharmacies across the UK starting next year, so the amount of money I'd be making would be much higher in the future.
"How… where are you making all this money?" Cyrus demanded, bewildered. 'There's no way this all came from the Magical World,' went unsaid but heavily implied.
"I have customers outside of what is considered 'normal,'" I replied. "Don't worry, I'm not going to infringe on any local potioneers' business. My interests lie beyond Magical Britain."
Cyrus's expression shifted ever so slightly. It was hard to tell, but I was able to pick out his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening. He brought out his wand and flicked it through the air, and I felt wards settle around our table.
"You're selling potions to Muggles?" he hissed out.
"No, no, not at all! That would be silly!" I chuckled. "I'm selling natural remedies and medicine inspired by old herblore. 'Potions' implies magic, after all."
I smirked. "At least, that's the official story. Muggles don't believe in magic, and I have no interest in going against the Ministry of Magic or the Statute of Secrecy."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew he didn't buy my excuse, but I had a plan for that.
"Tell me, Mr. Greengrass, have you ever heard of the Placebo Effect?"
"No, I have not," he replied.
"Allow me to explain," I said. "To put it simply, the Muggles did a study where they gave medicine to some people, but not to others. However, they told everyone they were being given medicine. They took notes of who claimed to feel better afterwards, and discovered that many of the people who'd been given fake pills had indeed gotten healthier purely because they believed they would," I told him.
"That's… how is that possible?" Cyrus stuttered in disbelief.
"There are a bunch of explanations for it, and I don't fully understand the science behind it myself, but the point still stands. If people think it will heal them, their bodies will be tricked into healing on their own," I explained. "All without magic."
"I see… but what does this have to do with your 'business idea?'" Cyrus inquired curiously.
"The point is that unless your product is outright and obviously magical, then most Muggles will believe whatever it is you want so long as it doesn't contradict their own views and beliefs. Hence, selling medicine with slightly magical effects that can be passed off as completely mundane, if exceptional in ability."
"Is it really that simply?" Cyrus muttered, not quite believing me, but at the same time, he was intrigued, and I aimed for that.
"It can be. If you know what to do and how to market your products," I replied.
"What do you want? What is your ultimate goal, here?" Cyrus asked, giving me a suspicious look.
"I want to sell medicine to the Muggles and make money," I told him honestly. "But I need a large amount of resources to produce it all. That's where you and your business comes in."
"The Ministry forbids interactions with the Muggles," Cyrus said, though the way he did so made it sound like he was merely repeating something he'd said many times before, and didn't quite care for it.
"The Ministry forbids revealing the secrets of magic to the uninitiated. As well as a few stipulations about giving or selling things to Muggles with the intent to cause harm. There are no laws about selling semi-magical goods to people who lack magic themselves," I stated. "And trust me, the Muggle side of things is a golden opportunity just waiting!"
"That still sounds like you are dangerously close to crossing a certain line the Ministry would not line to be crossed," Cyrus said slowly.
"Perhaps. But the Ministry is quite blind to what is happening right in front of it. I have no doubt that even if it was beneficial, they'd continue to wallow in mediocrity," I scoffed.
"And do you really believe that?" Cyrus asked curiously. "I recall hearing you say something similar a while back. Tell me, do you truly think that the wizarding world lacks creativity? That we are… behind the times, so to speak?"
"You remember my little rant at the bookstore, I see," I said, letting him know I'd seen him there. When he nodded, I decided to answer. "Yes, I do. How many theaters are there in Magical Britain? How many witches and wizards have put on a play this year?"
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