Chapter 245: The Rain Has Passed
"Yes... very well."
Wild thoughts flashed through Professor Quirrell's mind, but he still asked nothing. He simply placed the biscuit carefully into a box, masking the trace of worry in his voice.
He felt his knowledge was shallow and couldn't understand what this object truly was. But if it was just another type of biscuit, how could it possibly compete with that famous joke shop?
As he spoke, Diagon Alley remained bustling with people, and no wizard paid any attention to their conversation.
"Professor, you seem distracted," Sean said, looking up at him.
"Oh—oh—"
Professor Quirrell snapped back to reality and handed a contract to Sean.
"Mr. Green, please take a look. Shop Number 77, Diagon Alley. The rent is five hundred Galleons a year."
Hearing this figure, Sean nodded. It was even lower than he had imagined.
This was Britain's largest wizarding commercial street, where every inch of land was worth gold. Rents of several hundred to a thousand Galleons were perfectly normal.
The rent for the joke shop was seven hundred Galleons. By comparison, the rent here was significantly cheaper, though Sean wondered exactly why.
Perhaps it was simply too dilapidated.
Taking the magical contract, Sean didn't sign his name immediately. Instead, he released a paper airplane and waited for his teacher.
After all, one could never be too cautious with contracts infused with magic.
Sean gazed toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where Professor McGonagall's stern features had softened slightly as she chatted and laughed with the impeccably groomed shopkeeper.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The management of this affair had gone through a few twists and turns.
Finally, Professor Terra had convinced Professor McGonagall by saying, "I haven't had an apprentice in seventy years. It is a tradition in the alchemical world for a teacher to oversee their student's workshop."
Before long, Professor Terra, having received Sean's message, would arrive.
Before that, Sean had another necessary task to complete.
He took out a contract and handed it to Quirrell.
"Professor, please take a look at this."
Quirrell took the contract with a slightly bewildered expression.
The word "Salary" on the parchment stung his eyes.
He hadn't done anything for a salary in a very long time. The last time he worked, he had ended up "offering" his entire fortune.
"Annual salary of one thousand five hundred Galleons—this... this is too much!"
Professor Quirrell shivered.
"No, no, I don't need such things, Mr. Green. Quirrell is not an ungrateful wretch... at least, the current Quirrell is not... With such a salary, you could hire so many wizards..."
He had never even thought about being paid. In fact, just moments ago, when Sean revealed what they would be selling, Quirrell had already mentally prepared himself for a grim business struggle.
His body was slowly recovering. With his abilities, covering the rent and operating costs for the first year wouldn't be difficult.
Seeing such a high salary suddenly offered, he became utterly worried. Could their shop earn this back?
The contract shimmered in the sunlight; its contents were detailed yet simple.
The client, Sean, was obligated to pay the agent, Quirrell, a salary of one thousand five hundred Galleons and provide certain potions for the agent.
The agent, Quirrell, was required to resolutely protect the client's interests, keep the client's secrets, assist in business operations, and never conceal anything from or deceive the client, etc...
It could be said that this was fair to both parties. The client paid a high salary, and the agent offered true loyalty.
"I only know one wizard suitable for this task, Professor," Sean said.
Facing Sean's sincere request, Quirrell's eyes turned red.
He hadn't... been treated with such courtesy in a long time...
Diagon Alley was alive with voices. The rainy season had just passed; clouds drifted in from all directions, but shafts of sunlight pierced through from the zenith.
He had many choices now. Without death and fear looming over him, he could do anything, go anywhere.
He stood at the crossroads for a long time. Yet, he signed the contract without even reading the requirements placed upon him—he didn't need to know.
"Professor, you haven't read the requirements at the back..." Sean said in surprise.
"Oh, oh... that isn't necessary, Mr. Green."
Because no contract could demand more loyalty than he was already willing to give.
The air fell silent for a moment.
Professor Quirrell looked at the dilapidated shop, filled with worry.
A few seconds later, a figure walking with a brisk stride appeared not far from the shop.
"My apprentice, a decent location choice."
Professor Terra approached from the distance. First, she crouched down beside Sean, then carefully examined the magical contract before nodding to him.
"Professor Quirrell, what a surprise to see you here."
Soon, Professor Terra began chatting with Professor Quirrell.
Though they were chatting, neither of their gazes strayed far from Sean.
"What do you plan to name your alchemical workshop?" Professor Terra suddenly turned and asked.
"Fairy Tale Workshop, Professor," Sean said after thinking for a moment.
"I should have guessed."
The professor ruffled Sean's hair and quickly hurried away.
Sean soon bid farewell to Professor Quirrell and returned to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall appeared as if she had just finished her shopping spree, dragging Sean along to buy a few more gifts.
At the entrance to Diagon Alley, Sean and Professor McGonagall carried bags big and small. The Professor waved her wand, and the packages transformed into various small trinkets.
"Apparition can be uncomfortable. Drink something, child," Professor McGonagall said.
Sean nodded and waved his wand as well. A bottle of potion floated out of his bag—one of the many potions Professor Snape had provided, excellent for counteracting nausea.
As the light and shadows before his eyes twisted, Sean arrived amidst rolling hills and fertile meadows.
Directly in front of him stood a crooked house, several stories high, with four or five chimneys perched atop its red roof. At a glance, it defied all scientific logic.
But it was very magical. After all, this was a house built by magic.
Standing beneath the house was a short, plump woman with a round figure. Her eyes were bright blue, and she looked very kind.
"Professor McGonagall, so glad you could help bring the child here!" Mrs. Weasley thanked Professor McGonagall sincerely.
"Come, dear. I heard you're quite interested in our old, broken-down house. That's wonderful; you have a whole week to get to know it..."
Mrs. Weasley took Sean's hand and led him away, completely failing to notice the fleeting, unusual look in Professor McGonagall's eyes behind her.
"Goodbye, Professor," Sean said.
"I'll pick you up in the second week. Marcus wants you to know he's missed you for too long."
Professor McGonagall vanished.
The Burrow was large.
A sign stuck in the ground in front of the house read "The Burrow."
Beyond it was the lopsided house pieced together from various rooms.
Behind that was a dilapidated stone shed where several broomsticks could be glimpsed inside.
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