Chapter 170: Early Preparations
Five thirty in the afternoon.
The group had already left the Ministry of Magic and returned home separately. Old Will said he had something to discuss with Rosmerta and went back to Hogsmeade with Melvin.
Stepping out of the fireplace at The Three Broomsticks, they found the tavern owner busy upstairs. Old Will didn’t go up to disturb him but turned to Melvin: “Professor Levent, have a drink before heading back to school.”
“Sure.”
Melvin glanced at the elderly old wizard and said with a smile, “Try the honey mead here, Old Will. It’s The Three Broomsticks’ specialty.”
Old Will smiled in agreement, ordered two glasses of honey mead from the server, and found a spot against the wall to sit facing each other.
Several middle-aged wizards sat at the next table, downing a few whiskeys, their faces and necks flushed red, heads fuzzy as they complained loudly about no space on the second floor. Their voices were booming, audible throughout half the tavern, shouting:
“I have a relative working at the Ministry of Magic who knows inside information. He said it! Soon we’ll be able to watch projection mirrors at home.”
Someone nearby mocked him: “What kind of inside information is that? The newspapers have already reported it, haha…”
Hearing their shouting, Old Will and Melvin didn’t find it noisy or grating. That’s how taverns were—rowdy and boisterous for the atmosphere.
Melvin listened with a smile, waiting for the commotion to pass. He first took a sip of honey mead and said softly:
“Family projection mirrors differ from tavern projection mirrors, mainly in two models with smaller areas, convenient for ordinary family rooms. This differentiated design will soon make audiences notice the difference. They’ll quickly realize that watching projection mirrors at home versus in a tavern is a completely different experience.”
Old Will nodded, looking somewhat understanding.
Melvin pondered briefly and continued, “More importantly, the two projection mirrors have different content. When you have time, go stroll around a Muggle city and check out Muggle television and movie theaters.”
Old Will listened quietly, occasionally sipping honey mead.
“I know many of you are pure-blood, but you’re not those stubborn conservatives willing to accept new things.”
“Alfie has already done so.”
“You should go see too.”
Old Will nodded slightly and asked about another matter: “How should we price it?”
“It needs to cover costs and make a profit, affordable for most wizard families. Discuss the specific price with Wright. He has sales experience in Romania.”
Melvin paused briefly, thinking as he said: “We don’t actually need uniform pricing. Old Tom’s Leaky Cauldron and your Oak Barrel pub mainly serve wizards from ordinary families, so price them at normal standards.
“The situation at White Ink Bar is different. Most guests there are wealthy and like expensive things, so price them a bit higher.
“Have Wright make some modifications to satisfy those pure-blood families’ vanity—silver-inlaid cases, gold-plated ones. There’s always pure-bloods willing to pay.
“Make them even more unique, add a few thousand galleons, have the projection mirror display their family crest on standby…”
Listening to the young professor’s suggestions, a smile appeared on Old Will’s aged face.
……
The Floo Network modification work progressed smoothly.
Wright completed all the work in two days without any errors, and the testing passed smoothly.
He wasn’t surprised. He had accumulated rich experience in Romania, prepared thoroughly in advance, and had many staff helping. What should happen naturally did.
In the Department of Magical Transportation lounge, chatting with several Obliviator colleagues and Arthur Weasley about his experiences over the years, they were only curious about the alchemy taught by Nicolas Flamel. Almost no one cared about his early exclusion and resignation, or his time holed up opening a repair shop on Charing Cross Road.
Wright was tactful too, mentioning it only briefly without dwelling on those matters.
While tasting his third cup of tea, Bagman pushed open the door. Seeing Wright, his blue eyes lit up instantly, and a brilliant smile squeezed onto his slightly plump face.
“Wright, old chap!” He came to the sofa, panting as he poured himself a cup. “Still the familiar taste, right? Ceylon tea blended with Assam tea—only Ministry of Magic afternoon tea has this flavor, filling the whole mouth with tea aroma.”
Everyone in the room watched his performance.
“The whole modification work was orderly, completed in two days. You all are…” Bagman beamed. “I was saying if you needed any help, our Department of Magical Sports staff have free time. Such a pity.”
“Ludo, you’re as enthusiastic as ever.” Wright said with a smile.
“Yes, I’m enthusiastic to everyone.”
Bagman waved it off, saying it was nothing: “I believe kindness and enthusiasm get returns, especially from kind wizards like you. Don’t you think?”
Wright played along and asked: “Is there anything I can help with?”
That was exactly what Bagman waited for. His eyes lit up, expression eager: “Wright, my dear Wright. I know Professor Levent owns the Magic Mirror Club, but you’re the projection mirror maker. About sales channels, what do you think…”
Hearing this, everyone in the room understood his intent. It didn’t work with Professor Levent yesterday, so he was trying with Wright today.
Wright shook his head: “Sorry, Ludo. I fully respect Professor Levent’s decision.”
Bagman looked disappointed, the light in his eyes dimming. He gulped his tea while covering for himself: “Oh, no matter. It’s nothing. I was just asking.”
“Projection mirror business can’t include you, but…” Wright paused. “I have other ways to make money.”
Bagman looked up sharply, watching him expectantly.
“You were a Quidditch player before, now Department Head of Magical Sports. You often contact various Quidditch clubs and have connections with teams in all regions, right?”
Bagman held his teacup, his plump face puzzled: “That’s right, but what does that have to do with making money?”
“If you can get exclusive match footage, sell it to the Magic Mirror Club. The more exciting the footage, the higher the price. For national team level matches, our offer will satisfy you.”
As Wright finished speaking, Bagman hugged him tightly, joyfully patting his shoulder: “Wright! You’re my lucky goddess!”
Though Bagman urgently needed money, he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t immediately leave Wright but stayed in the lounge drinking tea and chatting. This Department Head of Magical Sports didn’t understand technology, so his topics weren’t very professional.
Discussing the Monkstanley family’s contributions to the Ministry of Magic, and mentioning things from when Wright worked at the Ministry, inevitably brought up that director Umbridge who forced Wright out—now the Senior Deputy Minister.
“Heh heh! You don’t know, do you? Fudge and Umbridge are hiding on the first floor refusing to show up—not moving offices, but afraid of running into Wright and Professor Levent.”
“This Floo Network modification thing made them lose all face.”
Wright sat quietly on the sofa holding his tea, a faint smile always on his face, showing no joy or sorrow.
Back when he was at the Ministry, he always avoided that Umbridge, anxious about her making trouble. Now with a new identity returning here, it was Umbridge avoiding him, unwilling to appear on this floor.
They chatted until evening. When leaving, Bagman walked bouncing along as if springs were under his feet, in a state of extreme excitement.
Wright left with them, entered the Great Hall fireplace, but didn’t go home—instead teleporting to The Three Broomsticks. He ordered half a dozen honey meads in six wine glasses, filling a tray exactly.
Without disturbance, Wright sat in the corner quietly savoring.
Until night fully fell and he finished the honey mead, Wright stood to leave. Looking up, he saw the young professor Melvin sitting across from him unnoticed.
“Melvin.” Wright sat back down.
“Procuring supplies for the new term, happened to pass by and saw you hiding in the corner drinking alone. Felt a bit lonely…” Melvin smiled mildly: “Why hide here instead of going home? reminiscing the past?”
Wright shook his head: “Nothing worth reminiscing from the past. I prefer my life now.”
“Hope you’ll still think so in a bit. Projection mirrors are about to go on sale, orders from everywhere will pile on you.”
“I prepared inventory in advance. Per the original plan, I won’t be too busy.” Wright glanced at him, tone somewhat resentful. “But I didn’t expect your bad idea to Old Will.”
“Extorting those pure-blood families, a bit tiring is fine.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not doing the grunt work.”
Melvin waved for half a dozen honey meads and a fish and chips: “Think positive—what’s the earnings this time?”
“Filling a vault shouldn’t be a problem.”
“…”
The two smiled at each other, glasses clinking—the sound of galleons jingling in their money bags.
Setting projection mirror matters aside, the young professor talked school affairs: Dumbledore occupying the position doing nothing, Professor McGonagall exploiting staff. Procuring outside meant missing dinner, filling up on fish and chips at the tavern.
How professor work was, Wright didn’t know. When at the Ministry, he thought himself pursuing alchemy’s mysteries, not caring about such things. Later encountering Umbridge, he had to resign and leave the Ministry, hiding outside Diagon Alley opening a repair shop.
These two days back at the Ministry, watching department heads smile at him, hearing colleagues praise, thinking soon pure-blood fools would buy his casual creations with gold—he felt a decade of frustration vanish instantly.
Wright started somewhat thanking Borgin for bringing that professor to his repair shop that day.
……
From January 15 to 22, a full week, Bagman spent almost all his energy visiting various team managers.
Unlike tavern owners, insiders like Alfie and Jack collected official match footage. Bagman’s visits to these managers targeted unknown underground matches.
Not illegal events, just less formal: impromptu training matches between two teams, revenge matches after official games, same-ground training swaps, star players switching positions for fun matches, even club owners whimsically starting games.
Compared to proper matches, this footage was more interesting, revenge matches more brutal. In short, these matches were more exciting.
Friday of the fourth week of January 1993, the last weekend before Hogwarts term started and eve of projection mirror sales, Bagman ordered an expensive red wine at The Three Broomsticks to meet the Magic Mirror Club head, Professor Levent.
The server set out food and wine glasses, opened the ten-year vintage red wine. Melvin watched, finding it somewhat novel.
Wizards opening red wine also did the ceremony bit. Clearly doable with a wand wave, yet they insisted on a complex ritual—definitely learned from Muggle royalty.
“Professor Levent, we meet again!”
“Good evening, Mister Bagman.”
“…”
Bagman smiled broadly. Hearing Melvin’s quote on match footage, his smile grew more eager, corners nearly to his ears.
Wright said this business made money—didn’t expect it to make this much!
Though busy running around this time, he only thought of paying off gambling debts, not getting rich quick.
Amid surprise, Bagman was puzzled. Poor student grades didn’t mean no brains. He analyzed the Magic Mirror Club business carefully.
Tavern owners profited from Quidditch match footage via alcoholic beverages. Sending it to wizard homes was a different model. No matter how exciting the match or riled the audience, it couldn’t drive other spending.
Pricing so high—really profitable?
Whatever!
What did it have to do with him?
Downing red wine, Bagman felt his head heat up and said gruffly: “Professor Levent, thanks for your generosity. For any Quidditch matters in the future, just come to me!”
“I will…”
Melvin smiled mildly. He tasted the red wine—odd flavor, not as good as honey mead. Setting down the glass: “Mister Bagman, if I recall right, next Quidditch World Cup is next year, final in Devon?”
“…”
That was just politeness, but this professor really had something for him to do?
Bagman paused, head cooling slightly: “Professor, World Cup is a global wizard event run by a dedicated committee. Our Department of Magical Sports just assists—might not help much.”
“Not helping me—helping the fans.”
“Ah?”
“For such a worldwide event, only a few can attend in person. Most fans huddle by radios for commentary. Don’t you think they need help?”
“…”
Bagman wanted to tell the professor each World Cup final brought about 100,000 wizards in person—not a minority.
As for fans by radios—what did they have to do with him?
Having just closed a big deal, Bagman couldn’t refute this benefactor. Silent a moment, he hesitantly asked: “You mean?”
Melvin smiled softly: “I’d like you to contact the committee for our Magic Mirror Club to broadcast next year’s World Cup.”
