Chapter 59: Cooperation Wins
“The news of Harry Potter joining the team spread quickly. Leveraging the fame of the Boy Who Lived, the news of The Three Broomsticks and the Memory Projection Mirror also spread quickly. Almost half of Britain’s wizards had heard about it.”
The room echoed with Borgin’s slightly oily voice: “But not all tavern owners have vision. Ordinary patrons and fans are just joining in the fun. Wright and I calculated on the way here that about 19 buyers are interested in purchasing the Memory Projection Mirror. Those who found me include Old Will from Theo’s Fort…”
Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley had a good reputation. When it came to fresh gadgets like the Projection Mirror that couldn’t be bought through normal channels, everyone went to Borgin.
A few knowledgeable wizards, aware of the Monkstanley family’s reputation, also went to the repair shop a few streets away. After Wright finished speaking at Borgin’s, he quickly added some more names.
“Aida from Godric’s Hollow…”
“Alfie from Tintagel…”
“One-Eyed Jack from Upper Flagley…”
The British wizarding circle was just that big. Wizarding families with heritage were basically all related by blood or marriage. Even the purely victorious Malfoy family had blood ties to the pure-blood disgrace Weasley.
Monkstanley and Borgin each had their own acquaintances. When introducing customer lists, they showed bias. For ordinary customers, they just mentioned a name and where the wizard was from. For close acquaintances, they gave detailed customer situations to win favor with the supplier Levent.
Melvin quietly listened to the two middlemen introduce customers, silently assessing their backgrounds in his mind and picking out a few special high-quality customers.
“The witch Aida from Godric’s Hollow runs a Golden Snitch tavern with ancestral home-brewed beer that the surrounding villagers love…”
This was an ordinary customer.
“Old Will from Theo’s Fort was formerly an Auror. During the last Wizarding War, he went mad alongside Mad-Eye and lost an arm to a Death Eater’s blast. On rainy days, it always itched and hurt, so he could only dull the pain with whiskey. After retirement, he simply opened a tavern specializing in strong liquor. At first, it was his Auror colleagues supporting the business, but later many male wizards went there to drink. Many patrons’ relatives had been murdered by Death Eaters and felt grateful to Harry Potter. Some were Quidditch fans too. When they heard The Three Broomsticks was showing a Hogwarts match, Old Will took his patrons and closed the tavern for a whole week to go to Hogsmeade. Madam Rosmerta almost thought he was there to steal her brewing recipes.”
This one had an Auror background, a high-quality customer.
“Alfie from Tintagel is a fast talker, formerly a Quidditch World Cup commentator. During the 1986 final, he cursed the West German national team on the commentary stand for taking bribes to throw the last group stage match. Afterward, the tournament committee demanded he publicly apologize in the newspaper. Alfie has a fiery temper; he said on the surface he’d apologize, but in front of the reporters, he cursed several heads from the Department of Magical Sports and the committee…
“Alfie eventually quit voluntarily, went back home, and opened a Quidditch club. It’s usually for retired players and referees to kill time. Last week he went to The Three Broomsticks to watch a match and, when paying for drinks, directly pulled out several thousand Galleons for Madam Rosmerta, saying he wanted to buy the Projection Mirror. Malcolm mistook him for a drunk and kicked him out.”
This one had a professional background, also a high-quality customer.
“One-Eyed Jack from Upper Flagley was formerly a Quidditch match photographer, also at that 1986 Quidditch World Cup. To capture the most exciting photos, he got too close to the pitch and had one eye shattered by a Quaffle. After retirement, he started a magazine specializing in Quidditch news and articles, but it was too professional, with sales even worse than The Quibbler. It went bust in less than two years.
“The magazine editorial office turned into a tavern, a literati tavern. The customers there were basically publishers, editors, and reporters—all with the same bad habits: either spouting unsubstantiated rumors without evidence, or chattering on endlessly. You listen and think it’s impressive, but reflect on it later—hey, they actually said nothing. Alfie quit because he insulted Ministry officials, but in their mouths, it became exposing Quidditch corruption and being squeezed out…
Melvin’s eyes lit up. This Jack was even more perfectly suited; his head was surely full of exciting pictures.
“Right, there are also a few pure-blood family wizards. These aren’t for their own businesses; they just buy them to watch at home in their manors. Pure-blood families are like that. I won’t mention names.”
Wright talked until his mouth was dry and chugged some beer.
Old Tom and Borgin, from pure-blood families, showed awkward smiles. Borgin cleared his throat, his expression lacking confidence: “Finally, it’s us in Knockturn Alley. Knockturn Alley gathers wizards who can’t show their faces conveniently. Among them are die-hard Quidditch fans and Harry Potter fans too. They usually hide underground in Knockturn Alley but drink a few cups in their leisure time to relax… In short, we also need a Projection Mirror.”
Melvin pondered briefly. Knockturn Alley was more complex; they were channel merchants, also high-quality customers.
Having listened to the other buyers, Old Tom compared himself to them and suddenly realized he had no competitive advantage. He hurriedly spoke up: “The Leaky Cauldron is willing to cooperate with the school. As long as we have a Projection Mirror like The Three Broomsticks, I’m willing to give the school team a profit share, plus your commission, Professor.”
“Like The Three Broomsticks…”
Melvin looked at him with deep eyes: “The Memory Projection Mirror is free. I supply the content for free. The tavern just provides the venue, no operating risk—it’s basically zero-cost business. Anyone would want in.”
Old Tom scratched his head with a shy smile, the sight somewhat startling.
“The Memory Projection Mirror costs thirty thousand Galleons to make. How much profit share can your tavern give? A few hundred Galleons a month—over a dozen years to break even…” Melvin simply explained the situation, then concluded, “The Three Broomsticks is a special example for promoting the Projection Mirror. Later taverns joining won’t get this price.”
Old Tom and Borgin nodded thoughtfully, without much doubt. Similar memory-displaying products were on the market for over ten thousand, and as businessmen, they knew no one did loss-making business.
Only Wright blinked, his expression subtle.
Thirty thousand Galleons? How didn’t he know? Last time, a large Projection Mirror cost nearly ten thousand, mostly R&D and trial production. Even including that, it was just nine thousand. How did Melvin’s mouth turn it into thirty thousand?
Whatever, thirty thousand it was.
Wright, who didn’t understand business, silently drank his beer.
Borgin, as a veteran Knockturn Alley businessman, vaguely sensed the young professor wouldn’t sell at cost: “Professor, what do you mean?”
“The Memory Projection Mirror can be sold to you at a discount. Cost price thirty thousand, thirty percent off. Moving picture content negotiated separately, guaranteed favorable price.”
Thirty percent off thirty thousand… saving twenty thousand directly!
Old Tom gulped down a whole glass of beer, dazed by the surprise price.
“But with additional conditions.”
“What additional conditions? Professor, just say it!”
“Tavern owners buying Projection Mirrors need to join our Magic Mirror Club.”
Without waiting for questions, Melvin explained: “This club is an organization Wright and I established, mainly responsible for producing and reviewing Projection Mirror content. Later joining club members must follow regulations and cooperate with us to develop and produce more interesting moving picture content.”
Old Tom and Borgin instinctively glanced at Wright.
Wright stayed silent, silently drinking his beer with his head down.
Don’t look, don’t ask—he was just learning this now too.
Old Tom had drunk a bit too much beer tonight, his head not clear: “Professor, I still don’t quite get it. Tell me specifically what this club does?”
Melvin wasn’t impatient and patiently explained: “Memory Projection Mirror—Memory Projection Mirror, a magic mirror that plays memory moving pictures. Not just my memories; all your memories can play too. Old Tom, you heard those buyers’ identities earlier—they surely have memories from past Quidditch World Cups, even insider views, exclusive perspectives, behind-the-scenes reveals. When playing, it can analyze the match too…”
Melvin turned to Borgin: “And you, Borgin. Knockturn Alley often has traders from various countries passing through; their footprints cover the world. They can surely get memories from other Quidditch events—World Cup group stages, intercontinental matches, teams’ usual training matches, even house matches from other magic schools…”
The three on site listened to the young professor’s slowed words, as if a door slowly opened before their eyes, revealing an even vaster world beyond.
“I know you don’t care about business, Old Tom, but you surely want to see those exciting matches with your own eyes.” Melvin, like an excellent guiding professor, led them to imagine the bright future. “Join our club, collect the world’s exciting Quidditch matches together, allocate resources uniformly, produce content—so time and space no longer limit watching. Then you won’t need to go out to see Hogwarts matches, Charlie’s Cannons matches, Armenia youth national team matches…”
Old Tom unconsciously chugged another beer, slammed the glass on the table, and shouted: “The Leaky Cauldron is willing to join!”
Borgin keenly realized the business opportunity inside—a very promising one—and hurriedly agreed.
The only one left on the table was a certain repair shop owner silently drinking.
Wright looked up at their gazes, utterly speechless: “Why look at me? I can’t agree for those tavern owners. At most, I’ll relay tonight’s talk to them, but that needs to wait until after Christmas Holiday—some are traveling abroad.”
“…”
After some discussion, the four reached an agreement.
Old Tom and Borgin got the thirty percent off price, grinning ear to ear. Wright had to relay messages back but earned two hefty repair fees, with more in the future.
Only the young Professor Levent sacrificed his own interests for the wizarding world’s benefit—admirable.
Everyone had a bright future.
“…That’s it then. Interested customers can meet me face-to-face this weekend.” Melvin set down his wine glass and stood up. “That’s all for today; I’m heading back to school first.”
“Professor, let me walk you…” Old Tom stood and followed.
Wright and Borgin watched their backs recede, withdrew their gazes planning to say something, then suddenly noticed Melvin’s beer was untouched, not a drop moved—while they had drunk over half their glasses.
Recalling the words they heard upon entering, the two exchanged a glance and fell silent.
…
Christmas Holiday slowly drew to a close.
Wizards returning from vacations came home, preparing for the new year’s work and studies. Wizard settlements across Britain regained prosperity, with each wizard tavern reopening for business.
Night fell, and two figures emerged from Hogsmeade’s alleys. Malcolm and Tucklot walked shoulder to shoulder, chatting about holiday anecdotes. Nearby passersby stayed silent, eyes glancing at them, inwardly puzzled.
But soon, the familiar argument rang out on the street again.
“Whether a Seeker can catch the Golden Snitch has nothing to do with finger length. Harry Potter’s victory is the best proof! Lamont lost because he lost—his skills weren’t good enough! Can’t blame teammates! Can’t blame his parents!”
“Is that the same? One’s a house match, one’s the World Cup!”
“What’s the difference! His fingers are even shorter than Lamont’s, and he still won the match!”
“Is that the same? He’s Harry Potter!”
“So what!?”
“He defeated that person while lying in his crib!”
“…”
Watching the two start shoving each other, passersby let out long breaths of relief. The familiar voices, familiar actions— the pre-Christmas neighbors were back.
Listening to their bickering all the way to The Three Broomsticks, residents suddenly noticed the tavern had a brand-new signboard. The glass window had a poster from a year ago: Lamont riding a broomstick in high spirits, with the title below—
Scotland vs Canada: The 1990 Showdown!
…
Eight o’clock at night.
London Westminster, Charing Cross Road entrance. It looked quiet from outside, but stepping into The Leaky Cauldron, the boiling roar of the crowd surged into the ears.
Frenzied fans crowded before the Silver Mirror. Each goal drew deafening cheers from the audience. Old Tom squeezed in the front row watching the match, cheering with the customers, while several Abo family nephews carried jugs, too busy to touch the ground.
“…”
Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt stood quietly at the counter’s edge corner—a spot inconspicuous yet overlooking the whole room.
This was a regular patron; the shop assistant recognized the tall, dark-skinned bald Auror, handed him his Butterbeer, and teased about ending vacation so early.
Shacklebolt gave a helpless smile, saying he didn’t want to work either.
Hearing the wizard’s deep, slow voice, the overly busy and irritated shop assistant calmed down and threw in free fish and chips.
Shacklebolt leaned on the counter, watched the shop assistant go, and took in the room’s situation.
Holiday had a few days left; he didn’t want to return to duty so early either. He had leftover vacation days from recent years, but his job was extremely special. The Ministry had holidays, but 10 Downing Street needed him early.
At the Ministry, he was captain of the Auror Second Squad in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In the Muggle Prime Minister’s office, he was the soon-to-be-promoted assistant secretary.
Shacklebolt’s gaze swept over the picture on the Silver Mirror, his eyes calm.
Memory Projection Mirror—it looked like a magical upgrade of Muggle television. If that Director Umbridge found out, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be busy again…
