Chapter 89: The Editor-in-chief Of The Daily Prophet
The last question cooled the pleasant atmosphere somewhat. The tavern owners said nothing and silently left the room, their eyes inscrutable.
Historic taverns all have glorious battle records in their ancestry. On the Hogsmeade side, it was once the headquarters of the goblin rebellion. The Leaky Cauldron once commanded the Charing Cross Road reconstruction operation. The Slurry Tavern was an outpost for blocking giants…
Taverns have always been important venues for the circulation of news and private trade. The wizards present all came through the era of disturbance, having heard, seen, and experienced it, and personally clashed with Death Eaters.
Aida of Godric’s Hollow rejected the overtures of Death Eaters. Old Tom dared to shelter and hide half-blood and Muggle-born wizards under the sky shrouded by the Dark Mark. Old Will once escaped from the pursuit of the Dark Lord. Before Alfie and Jack opened their tavern, they assisted the Ministry of Magic in clearing out dark wizards.
The Dark Lord will inevitably return…
So what?
When the time comes, pick up your wand and keep fighting them.
The meeting room gradually emptied. Melvin sat in a chair holding a glass of soda water, feeling that this kind of warning still had some effect. The wizarding world wasn’t just the Order of the Phoenix daring to resist.
“Click…”
The door was pushed open again. Wright peeked inside, carrying a shoulder bag, grinning cheerfully.
He had recently been in frequent contact and exchange with Nicolas Flamel, with gains in two main areas: first, cuisine. Nicolas Flamel and his wife were French, and French cuisine had basically no rivals across Europe. The two elders were very particular about life, and the various exquisite and abundant dinners gave him a dazzling feeling, making him noticeably rounder;
Then, mindset. Nicolas Flamel was a wizard from the 14th century, and over six hundred years, he had seen all sorts of disasters and upheavals—any two stories he told casually were catastrophes that could topple all of human civilization.
Spending time with such a legendary wizard and hearing many stories made disasters on the level of the Dark Lord seem somewhat underwhelming.
In summary, a broad mind and a fat body.
He sat in an empty seat nearby. Wright rummaged in his shoulder bag for a moment, pulled out a projection mirror, and showed it to him: “Melvin, take a look at this!”
This was a small projection mirror, about 32 inches diagonally, slightly thick, square and upright, clearly referencing the design of Muggle televisions, with a row of grooves at the bottom embedded with crystals that looked like buttons or the like.
“New model? It doesn’t look particularly special.”
“Mr. Flamel and I made it together.”
“This is the result of your exchanges over this time?”
“Yes.”
Wright nodded solemnly, setting the projection mirror on the table: “This is a new model I designed, optimizing the production process and greatly reducing costs. The most valuable thing inside is just that bit of silver mist potion. With the help of a house-elf, the production cost for one such projection mirror is only two hundred Galleons.”
After a simple introduction, he selected a strand of memory and placed it into the projection mirror.
After the silver mist swirled for a few seconds, the mirror surface emitted images and sound, almost indistinguishable from other projection mirrors.
“I call it the home projection mirror.”
Wright pushed it over to Melvin: “This is my thank-you gift to you.”
“What would I do with it?”
“I know you can use it.”
“…”
Melvin picked up the small projection mirror and examined it.
Still quartz material, clear and transparent, filled with the improved silver mist potion, which swirled continuously as he shook the mirror, somewhat more turbid than the cloud-mist between gas and liquid in a Pensieve.
Wright continued explaining beside him: “It’s not just a size change; other components have been added. See the crystals embedded in the grooves? Those are connectors made based on the Floo Network principle.”
Melvin sat up straight, his expression showing more seriousness: “Is it what I’m thinking?”
“Exactly what you’re thinking, like Muggles’ cable networks.”
Wright grinned, trying hard not to seem too proud: “The Ministry of Magic already has the Floo Network, controlled and regulated by the Floo Network Administration of the Department of Magical Transportation. It can connect across space throughout Britain. The entire Floo Network system was set up by the alchemy center in Egypt, with Nicolas Flamel as the chief designer. My grandfather participated in its construction and maintenance, leaving behind a lot of materials. Anyway, we hit it off and designed this home projection mirror.”
Melvin examined the crystal in the groove, still feeling shocked, but upon closer thought, it seemed quite reasonable.
The wizarding world’s social structure was relatively primitive, but its productivity and technological level were not primitive at all—advanced to an unimaginable degree in certain aspects.
After all, magic didn’t have to obey physical rules. With the Floo Network, forget light signals—a handful of Floo powder ignited green flames, and physical matter could easily cross space.
Outlandish, but reasonable.
“Can it be used to make television programs?”
“Yes.”
Wright nodded, then shook his head: “It’s designed based on the Floo Network, so to function, it needs cooperation from the Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Transportation.”
“Oh, needs Ministry cooperation.”
Melvin repeated his tone lightly, paused for a few seconds, then countered, “Two months ago, Umbridge tried to classify projection mirrors as contraband. Fudge is in a deadlock with the school over films. Do you think they’ll agree to cooperate?”
“Why ask me? That’s your problem to solve.”
Wright straightened his back, righteous and confident—this was the assurance of a technician.
…
Walking on the Hogsmeade streets, warm sunlight bathed his body as Melvin sorted through his thoughts.
Broadway stages have sizes, and Muggle screens have sizes. Big screens suit immersive content like films and Quidditch matches; small screens are better for light entertainment or information-dense content.
Extending the medium into every wizarding family was a future endeavor. The equipment issue was solved, but without content, it couldn’t advance for now. One person alone couldn’t support such massive demand…
Various ideas flashed in Melvin’s mind as he followed the path Muggles had already taken, but the wizarding world environment was different—he couldn’t rigidly copy it.
Wait a bit first; the timing wasn’t ripe yet.
Passing the Hog’s Head Inn, he saw the shop door half-open from afar. Melvin glanced inside unconsciously and locked eyes with a middle-aged wizard at a round table by the doorway.
A male wizard in his forties or fifties, medium build, with carefully groomed graying hair and beard, slightly high hairline, hooked nose, wizard robe ironed straight, a quill pinned to his chest.
Melvin noticed him at once—after all, in the Hog’s Head Inn, wizards willing to show their faces were extremely rare.
The wizard also spotted Melvin, his eyes lighting up slightly. He set down his burning Flame Whiskey and immediately came forward.
“Professor Levent, finally meeting you.” The middle-aged wizard smiled and extended his hand, his voice rich and resonant, his face well-maintained, beard neatly trimmed, giving an impression of elegance with a touch of slyness.
“And you are?”
“Barnabas Guffey.”
“Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet?”
Surprise flashed in Melvin’s eyes, quickly suppressed as he offered a polite smile and shook hands.
Unlike that star reporter or the guest columnist Miss Beetle, this middle-aged wizard wasn’t the exposé type, nor did he much use twisted facts or sensational headlines to attract eyes. He was more like a behind-the-scenes manipulator, carefully arranging newspaper layouts to steer public opinion.
He was adept at reading the times. During the Wizarding War, he knew how to report news without enraging Death Eaters while passing information to other wizards.
After Voldemort’s fall, 《the Daily Prophet》 became the Ministry of Magic’s propaganda mouthpiece. His articles could be read as official line or as subtle resistance between the lines, and he would timely question power from the reader’s standpoint, maintaining the paper’s reputation.
A slippery old fox.
“Professor Levent actually knows my name—quite an honor.”
Barnabas Guffey smiled warmly: “After the films were released, I wrote to request a visit, but got no reply… You’ve probably received a lot of letters lately.”
“More Howlers.”
“Some people ignore the truth, thinking that burying their heads in the sand will prevent disaster.”
Barnabas shook his head with a sigh, then got to the point: “May I invite the professor for a drink? The Three Broomsticks, not the Hog’s Head.”
“Mr. Guffey was waiting here specifically for me?”
“I heard that almost all taverns in Britain have bought and installed projection mirrors, except the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade, which remains unchanged and unaffected in business—very unique. I came to see for myself.” Barnabas replied, “Only upon entering did I realize the location is excellent, convenient for observing wizards entering and leaving the village.”
“It was once the headquarters of the goblin rebellion—indeed very unique.”
The two chatted about tavern specialties around the area, turning back toward the Three Broomsticks with a tacit understanding.
Barnabas was a newspaper editor-in-chief, knowledgeable about various secrets. Melvin was quick-minded, creating an atmosphere of delightful conversation.
Half an hour later, Melvin brought Barnabas back to the Three Broomsticks and, under Madam Rosmerta’s surprised gaze, ordered some food to be sent to the third-floor room.
Barnabas traced from the origins of the Leaky Cauldron to the establishment of Diagon Alley, analyzing the intentions of the first owner Daisy Dodderidge, recounting the Abo family’s takeover of the tavern, and even linking to interference with Muggle government plans for Charing Cross Road.
At the end of the 19th century, the Muggle government planned to build Charing Cross Road, which would have demolished the Leaky Cauldron. Numerous wizards united, using masses of Obliviate spells to alter the memories of relevant personnel, preserving the Leaky Cauldron.
“…In the recent few hundred years, Muggles have created unprecedented brilliant achievements, and Charing Cross Road is one of them. What do you think, Professor Levent?”
“The Leaky Cauldron has a long history with many legendary stories, but the drinks there are too traditional in taste, and the hygiene is dreadful. The Three Broomsticks does it much better…”
In front of this Muggle Studies professor, Barnabas tried hard to steer the topic toward Muggles, but Melvin never took the bait, sticking to taverns. He introduced a few signature brews of the Three Broomsticks and explained brewing recipes.
Both were playing dumb while fully aware.
After half an hour of tugging, this young professor was still discussing what material oak barrel gives better flavor for mead, then shifted to the optimal tasting temperature for butterbeer. Barnabas was getting impatient.
“Professor Levent, actually, I want to cooperate with you.”
Barnabas chose bluntness: “《The Daily Prophet》 plans to produce a news program for playback on projection mirrors. We’ve consulted several tavern owners, and the Magic Mirror Club seems to have intended this from the start. The contract even encourages all parties to make their own programs, though they thought such programs would be limited to Quidditch matches. We want to be the first to eat the crab.”
Melvin rubbed his wine glass, feigning thought.
Barnabas continued persuading: “Hear me out, Professor. Though some old diehards still preach pure-blood supremacy, more wizards are starting to engage with Muggle life. They enjoy those novel things, and the future will surely be an era of harmonious coexistence between wizards and Muggles.
“Shortsighted witches like Umbridge can’t stop Muggle things from entering the wizarding world. The real trend is unstoppable, like the Wizarding Radio Alliance, like memory projection mirrors…”
Melvin listened to the middle-aged wizard’s lecture, feeling deeply moved.
Different wizards have different ideas—not all are shallow and ignorant, trying to keep the wizarding world closed off. There are always some sharp-minded wizards leading the way.
Can’t underestimate wizards everywhere.
“…Projection mirrors have much untapped potential. We can make small projection mirrors, play less polished programs, gain even stronger influence, even change the entire wizarding world.”
“News programs—indeed a great choice.”
Melvin looked at the editor-in-chief before him, pretending to ponder: “For the Daily Prophet, such programs are right up their alley—just convert paper content to images. Production is swift and fast, quickly building a large fixed audience, convenient for controlling discourse and agenda-setting.”
He revealed a meaningful smile: “Then they can manipulate public opinion. Superficially, it can affect a tavern’s business; deeply, it can interfere with officials’ elections. Quidditch match win-loss odds—what do you think, Mr. Guffey?”
“…”
Barnabas couldn’t help holding his breath, momentarily unsure if this was a young professor just out of school or a scheming old wizard.
He reined in all his thoughts, faced the professor squarely, pondering how to gain trust from this Magic Mirror Club manager, tallying what chips the publisher could offer, without speaking rashly.
Melvin sipped his soda water, his dark, deep eyes hiding a smile:
“This is just my personal speculation. Projection mirrors do need a news program, but the timing isn’t ripe yet. Current mirrors are all in taverns; thrill-seeking patrons need exciting matches more than daily news.
“The Daily Prophet will also need time to refine the program. Wait a bit—when the time comes, I’ll contact Editor-in-Chief Guffey myself.”
