Chapter 250: Opening (3k)

“Don’t wait any longer, take the caterpillar with you right away—”

The clerk with a broad head and large ears beamed with obsequious smiles.

The floo powder administrator had arrived; they belonged to the Floo Network Administration, a division under the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Transportation.

Responsible for establishing, maintaining, monitoring, and managing the Floo Network.

Now, they had completed the floo powder network in just half an hour.

Once the fireplace ignited with green flames, Wizard Sean could quickly contact Professor Quirrell from any fireplace location—such as Hogwarts’ Great Hall or the Hope Cottage.

But entering Hogwarts via floo powder was unlikely—it would be under tight surveillance.

“Did I ever say I’ve been waiting for you a long time?”

The floo powder administrator with the broad head and large ears was equally respectful.

What a joke—this was Teen Edition Dumbledore, and at eleven years old he’d already earned such honors; his future was visibly brilliant.

“Thank you for your help.”

Wizard Sean responded politely.

…

The opening date for Fairy Tale Workshop was set for the day after the other Trick Shop opened.

Upon learning this, Professor Quirrell was at a loss for words; Mr. Green seemed quite famous within the Ministry… fame could bring money, but it wouldn’t last…

A shop’s success ultimately depended on the quality of its products.

Leaving Fairy Tale Workshop, Wizard Sean went on to visit the Trick Shop.

The Weasley twins were frantically making final preparations; they’d even hired two Hufflepuff prefects.

All products were displayed in overwhelming abundance, and promotional posters blanketed every surface.

The final night before opening was bound to be anything but peaceful.

It was Wednesday—the opening day.

Mrs. Weasley woke them early. Each of them hastily ate five or six bacon sandwiches, then pulled on their coats. Mrs. Weasley lifted a flowerpot from the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

“Not much left, Arthur,”

she sighed,

“We’ll need to buy more today… Alright, guests first! Wizard Sean, you go first!”

She held the flowerpot out to him.

“You must speak those words clearly, child,”

Mrs. Weasley told Wizard Sean as George also reached into the flowerpot,

“You know, magical fire comes in many forms—you must choose the right one, but as long as your pronunciation is clear—

Remember, as soon as you step into the fire, say where you’re going—”

“Mum, Wizard Sean’s walked through it many times already, but—remember to tuck your elbows in.”

Ron warned,

“Close your eyes—there’s soot—don’t move around, or you might pop out of another fireplace— but don’t panic, and don’t come out too soon.”

…

Diagon Alley.

“Come on, children! I’m so excited,”

Mrs. Weasley said.

Wizard Sean followed the enthusiastic Mrs. Weasley—he was the only one she held tightly by the hand.

In her words:

“Every Weasley grew up wandering Diagon Alley; here, only one young wizard needs extra care.”

Diagon Alley was already packed with noise.

Though it was still early morning, mist lingered and the sky hadn’t fully brightened, nothing could dampen the wizards’ joy and anticipation.

Every product line here had sold out across the entire British magical community; low prices, excellent quality, and unique novelty had become the shop’s trademarks.

The only pity was—there were too few.

Wizards had waited so long for the opening; they wouldn’t miss it for anything.

Wizard Sean and the Weasleys struggled through the crowd, which also included magazine reporters snapping photos of the shop with cameras.

The shop now stood out so sharply it made neighboring stores look dull and lifeless.

—Because they were drowned out by announcements.

But Fred and George’s display windows still glowed like fireworks, drawing every eye. Even ordinary passersby couldn’t help turning to stare, and some stood frozen in shock, utterly mesmerized, lining up in front.

The left window sparkled with all manner of rotating, twitching, flashing, leaping, and screaming products.

The right window bore a massive poster emblazoned with blazing yellow letters:

Why worry about headaches?

You should care about Constipation Beans—constipation tortures the nation!

“Mum, let go of the great Green, we’ve got to go!”

Fred shouted.

Her grip on Wizard Sean loosened.

“See you inside.”

Wizard Sean nodded to Mrs. Weasley, then slipped away through a narrow alley behind the shop.

Entering through the back door, Fred and George were still pacing restlessly.

Wizard Sean saw Storekeeper Gert also gazing anxiously ahead, tense yet eager.

The Trick Shop’s popularity surpassed everyone’s expectations.

The wizards flooding in might as well have had written on their faces:

“Take my Galleons, and give me your damned products!”

Wizard Sean quickly pulled Jia Jia Siting and Hermione away from the crowd.

Otherwise, they might have been swept off somewhere by the tide.

“Wizard Sean, oh my god, this is terrifying.”

Hermione was still shaken.

“It looks like both shops might not be enough…”

Jia Jia Siting analyzed.

Then both eagerly followed Wizard Sean as he picked out items.

“What’s this?”

Jia Jia Siting held up a device resembling a telescope.

“I don’t know.”

Wizard Sean said.

“What about this?”

Hermione stood surrounded by a cluster of witches admiring bright pink products.

“I’m not sure.”

Wizard Sean said.

“Then what do you know?”

Hermione was baffled.

“These aren’t my creations.”

Wizard Sean explained, but before he finished, he saw Jia Jia Siting’s eyes had turned dark, and his expression was resigned:

“Can someone tell me who thought it was a good idea to shove a fist into a telescope?”

After applying a special ointment, Jia Jia Siting’s dark circles vanished.

But not every wizard here was so lucky; screams erupted frequently.

Wizard Sean watched silently, listening to the noise, then waved his wand—scattered products floated back to their proper places on their own.

Doing this was no easy task; each object needed to drift in a different direction, requiring varying strengths of magic based on weight.

Wizard Sean couldn’t have done it before, but now, after months of practice, he could.

“Three Galleons, nine Sickles, one Knut,”

Fred’s voice rang out at the staircase entrance as he examined the pile of boxes in Ron’s arms,

“Pay up.”

“I’m your brother!”

“Almost forgot. Three Galleons and ten Sickles—I’ll count the Knut as a Sickle.”

“Why does it keep going up?! I don’t have that much money!”

“Then you’d better put the stuff back—remember, don’t put it on the wrong shelf.”

Ron dropped a few boxes, muttering under his breath.

…

The shop fell quiet before nightfall.

Customers were disappointed—the products were completely sold out.

Even though Wizard Sean and the others had prepared so much, they’d still underestimated the British wizards’ buying frenzy.

Fred and George felt as if each customer they served was walking away with a breathing Galleon, their hearts aching unbearably.

But when they saw the warehouse piled high with Galleons, they nearly threw Wizard Sean up in the air.

Where there is joy, there is sorrow.

Professor Quirrell, witnessing the massive crowd, looked as if his worry would spill out of his eyes.

After observing Wizard Sean emerge from the Joke Shop, his concern only deepened.

“Mr. Green… the Animal Party series from that shop is truly impressive—perhaps we could arrange another time…”

He offered his suggestion cautiously.

He had little faith left in tomorrow’s opening.

Anyone could see that wizards had come solely for the Joke Shop, and many had already purchased their desired items.

Once these items were put into use, wizards’ expectations would rise. And that Joke Shop offered superior products at low prices—no other shop could compete.

Moreover, no one even knew where their products were stored.

The night was quiet.

Occasionally, wizards leaving the Joke Shop passed by, glancing curiously at this place before walking away with little interest.

It seemed to confirm Professor Quirrell’s words.

Wizard Sean now placed several boxes of biscuits on the shelves—fewer than fifty boxes in total—further unsettling Professor Quirrell.

“What is this?”

Professor Quirrell froze, stunned.

“Our products,” Wizard Sean explained.

“Oh—oh… I see… I see…”

Professor Quirrell stammered, his face twisted in distress, saying nothing.

Yet inside, he made a silent decision.

“Relax, Professor Quirrell.”

Seeing Quirrell’s prolonged gloom, Wizard Sean comforted him.

Wizard Sean didn’t know how to explain it—he’d understand tomorrow.

Suddenly, the shop’s bell rang. Professor Quirrell looked up with hope—only to see Professor Tera, silver-haired and elegant.

“My student, as I said, tomorrow is the only day we open to the public.”

Professor Tera stepped forward, her gaze sharp.

“Only day open to the public…”

Professor Quirrell paused for several seconds, then repeated it blankly.

“For truly great alchemists, their creations initially exist only in the hands of a select few.”

It’s not merely about price—it’s about many factors.”

“Take Floo Powder: its first distribution is always secret, for it is too vital to be left uncontrolled…”

“Yet alchemists don’t wish their creations to begin in obscurity, so they open publicly for just one day.”

Professor Tera was explaining this to Wizard Sean, but also letting his agent hear.

“So… these biscuits… the official public sale lasts only one day?”

Professor Quirrell’s vision darkened—limited quantity, no public sales, and a neighbor who was an overwhelmingly powerful competitor…

His vision went black—because he saw no future.

Even though he vaguely sensed something was off, the cascade of bad news had paralyzed his thoughts.

Later there’s a 3k-chapter.

There will be a 3k-word chapter later