Chapter 250: Grand Opening
"Don't wait, take the worm and go—"
The clerk with the broad head and large ears wore a fawning smile on his face.
The Floo Network administrators had arrived. They belonged to the Floo Network Authority, a division under the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry of Magic.
They were responsible for setting up, maintaining, monitoring, and regulating the Floo Network.
Now, it had taken them only half an hour to speed-run the setup of the Floo connection.
Once the green flames roared to life in the fireplace, Sean could contact Professor Quirrell quickly from anywhere with a fireplace—such as the Great Hall at Hogwarts or the Room of Hope.
However, entering Hogwarts via Floo powder was unlikely to be permitted; the connection would be strictly monitored.
"Have I mentioned how long I've been looking forward to meeting you?"
The Floo Network administrator was equally respectful.
Are you joking? This was the adolescent version of Dumbledore! To achieve such honors at the age of eleven meant his future was visibly brilliant.
"Thank you for your help," Sean responded politely.
The opening date for the Fairy Tale Workshop was set: the day after the opening of the other joke shop.
upon learning this, Professor Quirrell didn't know what to think. Mr. Green seemed to have quite a reputation at the Ministry... Fame could bring money, of course, but it wouldn't last...
Ultimately, the development of a shop depended on the quality of its goods.
Leaving the Fairy Tale Workshop, Sean made his way to the joke shop.
The Weasley twins were frantically making final preparations; they had even hired two Hufflepuff upperclassmen to help.
The shelves were stocked to the brim, and overwhelming promotional posters had already been plastered everywhere.
The last night before the opening was destined to be restless.
Wednesday. Opening Day.
Mrs. Weasley woke them all up at the crack of dawn. They hurriedly ate five or six bacon sandwiches each and pulled on their jackets. Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot from the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Alright, guests first! Sean, you go first!"
She held the flowerpot out to him.
"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Sean as George dipped his hand into the pot. "And get out at the right grate..."
"Remember, step into the fire and say where you're going—"
"Mum, Sean has done this plenty of times, but—remember to keep your elbows tucked in," Ron reminded him. "Close your eyes, there's soot—don't fidget, or you might fall out of the wrong fireplace—but don't panic and get out too early, either."
Diagon Alley.
"Come on, children! I'm just so excited," Mrs. Weasley said.
Sean followed behind the enthusiastic Mrs. Weasley. He was the only one whose hand she was holding tightly.
As she put it: "Every Weasley grew up wandering Diagon Alley; there's only one young wizard here who needs a bit more looking after."
Diagon Alley was already bustling with noise.
Although it was very early in the morning, with a thin mist still lingering and the sky not yet fully bright, nothing could dampen the joy and anticipation of the wizards.
Every product series here had been a bestseller across the British wizarding world. Low prices, excellent quality, and novelty had become synonymous with this shop.
The only pity was that stock was always too low.
Now that the wizards finally had a grand opening to look forward to, they certainly wouldn't miss it.
Sean and the Weasleys squeezed through the crowd with difficulty. Mixed in the throng were magazine reporters, snapping photos of the shop with their cameras.
The shop stood out so much today that the surrounding storefronts looked dim by comparison.
—Because they were buried under notices and flyers.
Fred and George's window display attracted attention like a fireworks show. Even ordinary passersby couldn't help but turn their heads to look, and some stopped in their tracks, looking fascinated as they joined the queue.
The left window was a kaleidoscope of colors, filled with all sorts of spinning, twitching, flashing, bouncing, and screaming products.
The right window was covered by a massive poster with dazzling yellow letters printed on it:
WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT A HEADACHE?
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT CONSTIPATION KERNELS—THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!
"Mum, let go of the Great Green, we have to go!" Fred shouted.
The hand holding Sean's loosened.
"See you in the shop."
Sean nodded to Mrs. Weasley, then slipped away from the shop front via a small alley that led to the back of the joke shop.
After entering through the back door, he found Fred and George pacing restlessly.
Sean saw the manager, Gertie, gazing anxiously out the front, looking both nervous and expectant.
The popularity of the joke shop exceeded everyone's expectations.
The wizards pouring in practically had "Take my Galleons and give me those damn products!" written on their faces.
Sean managed to pull Justin and Hermione out of the crushing crowd just in time. Otherwise, there was no telling where the mob would have swept them.
"Sean, my goodness, this is terrifying," Hermione said, still shaken.
"It looks like two shops might not be enough..." Justin analyzed.
Then, the two of them followed Sean with great interest to pick out items.
"What's this?"
Justin picked up something that looked like a telescope.
"I don't know," Sean said.
"And this?"
Hermione was surrounded by witches crowding around some dazzling pink products.
"Not sure," Sean said.
"Then what are you sure about?" Hermione was confused.
"I didn't make these," Sean explained.
Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Justin's eye turn black. At the same time, Justin looked rather resigned.
"Who can tell me, whose idea was it to put a fist inside a telescope?"
After using a unique ointment, Justin got rid of the black eye.
But not every wizard in the shop was so lucky; screams erupted frequently.
Sean watched silently. Listening to the cacophony, he waved his wand, and products scattered on the floor flew back to their respective sections on their own.
Doing this wasn't easy, as each object had to float in a different direction and required different intensities of magical force based on its weight.
Sean couldn't have done this before, but now, he had been studying for a while.
"That'll be three Galleons, nine Sickles, and one Knut," Fred's voice rang out from the stairs. He looked carefully at the boxes of various sizes in Ron's arms and said, "Pay up."
"I'm your brother!"
"Almost forgot. Three Galleons, ten Sickles. I'll round that Knut up to a Sickle for you."
"Why did the price go up?! I don't have that much money!"
"Then you'd best put some back. And remember not to put them on the wrong shelves."
Ron threw a few boxes down, muttering under his breath.
The shop quieted down before evening.
The customers were disappointed; there simply wasn't enough stock.
Even though Sean and the others had made so much, they had still underestimated the purchasing enthusiasm of British wizards.
Every time Fred and George had to turn a customer away, it felt like sending away a breathing Galleon. Their hearts ached beyond measure.
However, when they saw the warehouse full of gold, they nearly hoisted Sean up and tossed him in the air.
Where there is joy, there is also worry.
Seeing such a spectacular crowd, the anxiety in Professor Quirrell's eyes was about to overflow.
Especially after seeing Sean walk out of the joke shop.
"Mr. Green... the Animal Party series from that shop is indeed outstanding. Perhaps we could choose a different time..." he suggested cautiously.
He had lost all confidence in tomorrow's opening.
Anyone could see that the wizards were here for the joke shop, and a large portion of them had already bought what they wanted.
After using those items, the wizards' standards would be raised. Moreover, the joke shop offered high quality at low prices; it would be hard for any shop to compete.
And up until now, no one knew where their own products were.
The night was quiet.
Occasionally, wizards leaving the joke shop would pass by, glance curiously at the empty shop, and then walk away with little interest.
It seemed to verify Professor Quirrell's prediction.
At this moment, Sean placed some biscuit boxes on the shelves. There appeared to be no more than fifty boxes in total, which made Professor Quirrell even more uneasy.
"This is?" Quirrell stood somewhat dazed.
"Our product," Sean explained.
"Oh—oh... I... I see..."
Professor Quirrell started to stutter. He looked miserable and said nothing more.
Internally, however, he made a grim decision.
"Relax, Professor Quirrell."
Seeing Quirrell so depressed for the past few days, Sean tried to comfort him.
Sean didn't know how to explain it; the Professor would understand tomorrow.
Suddenly, the shop doorbell rang. Professor Quirrell looked over with a glimmer of hope, only to find the silver-haired, brilliant Professor Terra.
"My apprentice, as I said, tomorrow is the only day we are open to the public."
Professor Terra walked over, her gaze sharp.
"The... only day open to the public..."
Professor Quirrell paused for a few seconds, then repeated the words in confusion.
"For some truly great alchemists, their creations exist initially only in the hands of a select group of people.
"This isn't just decided by price, but by many factors.
"Take Floo powder, for instance. Its first distribution was forever secret because it was too important and had to be strictly controlled...
"But alchemists don't want their creations to remain unknown at the start, so they will open to the public for a single day."
Professor Terra was explaining this to Sean, but incidentally letting his apprentice's agent hear it too.
"So... the actual time these biscuits are available for sale to the public... is only one day?"
Professor Quirrell felt his vision go dark.
Low stock, non-public sales, and a ridiculously powerful competitor right next door...
His future looked pitch black—because there was no future.
Even though he vaguely felt something was wrong, the succession of bad news had caused his brain to stop working.
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