Chapter 23: Why Are You Obsessed With That Stinking Stink Bomb?
“Professor, what do you want to ask?”
“Put my matter aside for now…”
Melvin glanced at the books spread out in front of them, then at the content on the notebook, his voice mild: “What are you two doing squatting here?”
“Discussing the difficulties encountered in alchemy.”
“Why are you so obsessed with developing stink bombs?”
“Our dream is to open a joke shop, just like Zonko’s Joke Shop, and dungbombs are their signature product…”
George and Fred took turns answering one sentence at a time.
“So you want to make a stink bomb.”
“That’s right!”
“How’s the progress?”
“We have a new idea.”
“Tell me about it.” Melvin squatted down.
George and Fred noticed the distance between them and the professor had closed, feeling something peculiar. Due to some inexplicable trust, the twins felt this professor wouldn’t report them to Professor McGonagall.
George naturally let down his guard and explained their design plan: “We were previously troubled by how to buy Muggle chemicals, but then we suddenly realized that the design idea for the stink bomb is to disperse the stinky substance through an explosion. Ammonia water and sodium metal aren’t irreplaceable; many magical raw materials can achieve the same effect.”
Fred spread out their notebook, pointing to the abstract simple drawings on it, his tone somewhat proud: “Ammonia water can be replaced with fire dragon urine. My brother Charlie raises fire dragons in Romania and brought back half a bottle last summer vacation. Professor, you probably haven’t smelled that stuff up close. A light sniff hits you like being full-force charged by a graphorn, leaving you dazed for half a day—definitely more terrifying than ammonia water.
“Sodium metal can be replaced with Filibuster fireworks. They have a large burst area, scatter everywhere, and the explosion has no lethality.”
“The idea is very clever.”
Melvin affirmed their idea, but only the cleverness was worth affirming: “However, from a product development perspective, your design is dreadful. A stink bomb produced this way would definitely be a failed product.”
“Why!?”
George and Fred widened their eyes, unable to accept it for the moment.
“Muggle wisdom: Designing a successful product requires systematically balancing multiple factors, including user needs analysis, feasibility studies, market competitor research…” Melvin saw their expressions gradually turning bewildered and waved his hand. “Forget it, you’d not understand if I say too much. Let’s analyze the flaws in your design from two angles.
“First, cost control. Fire dragon urine is generally used for herb composting or wilderness deterrence of other animals. Though not a rare magical material, it’s not cheap either—at a few sickles per ounce. Filibuster fireworks are already a mature product. If you use Filibuster fireworks as raw material, how much would the stink bomb cost to produce? If considering selling, how would you price it? You know, dungbombs on the market are priced similarly to Filibuster fireworks.
“Second, audience psychology. Your audience is basically underage wizards. You’re making prank toys, not biochemical weapons. From what you said earlier, you considered this and even factored in the explosive power of Filibuster fireworks. But you overlooked the power of urine—not just physiologically, but psychologically…”
George and Fred quietly listened to Professor Levent’s lecture, their thoughts gradually clarifying, as if something long blocked in their minds had been cleared.
Melvin tapped their notebook, his tone unhurried: “Pranks and jokes are meant to make people feel happy and joyful. Using ammonia water as raw material gives a urine stench, but at least it’s not real urine. Friends or classmates might laugh it off, then Whirlwind Sweep Clean and Scourgify, a wave of the wand and they’re happily playing again.
“But real urine?
“Imagine if you were really splashed with a body full of urine—would just cleaning it with a spell make it go away?
“You’d still feel uncomfortable mentally. Even after showering and changing clothes, it’d feel off. From the victim’s perspective, would you feel happy? Would the pranksters nearby feel happy?
“Moderate offense and teasing is a joke; excessive and inappropriate offense is malicious bullying. Dungbombs are accepted because they don’t contain real dung. Similarly, stink bomb raw materials can’t have real urine, or how is your joke different from Peeves’ low-class mischief?
“Are you the same as Peeves?”
George and Fred were stunned and hurriedly shook their heads.
Though their design was criticized and negated by the professor, they didn’t feel discouraged at all. Instead, they felt enlightened.
Previously, they pranked based on preferences and intuition, dreaming of opening the most fun joke shop after graduation, realizing all their wild ideas one by one, producing prank products everyone found amusing.
But implementing it left them bewildered. They didn’t dare discuss with parents or professors, didn’t know where to start, had no specific ideas or theoretical guidance. No one had ever told them the definition of pranks and jokes.
Their accumulated experience over past years had sparked thoughts on limits and proportions, but no one had ever pointed it out so clearly—jokes should make both the prankster and victim feel happy and amused.
Professor Levent seemed to light a lamp for them, the lights dispelling the fog and pointing out a path.
“Product effect is one aspect, audience psychology another factor.” Melvin smiled. “As long as you understand, scrap it and redesign.”
Fred drew an X in the upper right corner of the draft. George belatedly realized and recalled the initial question: “Professor, what did you want to ask us?”
“I want to consult on some prank product matters.”
Melvin looked down at the Zonko’s Joke Shop product catalog: “You’re more familiar with this. Help me think: is there any prank product that can affect wizards, at least hinder their actions, make them tense unknowingly, but not cause real injury—ideally with some scare elements.”
“Hinder actions…”
“Scare elements…”
George and Fred flipped open the product catalog, slightly turning to show Melvin the product images and descriptions.
“Signature product, dungbomb: mild explosion releasing dung stench, scent intensity optional;
“Bestseller classic, biting snuffbox: touches the box and viciously bites the victim’s nose;
“Back-to-school special, Filibuster fireworks: ignite automatically on contact with water, can’t be extinguished by regular spells, fireworks turn into fire dragons, colorful phoenixes, etc., rampaging around;
“Underrated gem, joker box: opens to deliver a hook punch…”
“…”
Until flipping the last page, Melvin saw no satisfactory product: “Too jokey, and too classic. Anyone familiar with Zonko’s Joke Shop would recognize it instantly.”
“That just shows these products are outstanding.”
“I believe you’ll make even better ones in the future. For now, I’ll go ask the professors.” Melvin shook his head and turned to leave.
“Goodbye, Professor.”
George and Fred watched the professor walk away, then huddled together whispering:
“The effect the professor wants is probably those cursed dark magic items.”
“Dark magic items really injure people. It must be damaged old dark magic items.”
“Like the ghoul upstairs at the Burrow.”
“…”
Their later discussion reached his ears, and Melvin showed a thoughtful expression.
