As July approached, the days beca cloudless and sweltering, making one wish for nothing more than to stroll down Diagon Alley with a few pints of iced pumpkin juice. Perhaps a raspberry and chocolate ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour would go down nicely too; their ice cream was always delicious.
It was on just such a day in late June—an ordinary yet extraordinary day—that a shop opened without any prior advertisent.
The shop manager was a handso but sowhat worried-looking wizard. If any Hogwarts students had been there, they would have recognized him as Professor Quirrell, the man who had successfully defended against a Dark wizard.
Rumors were rife that he had been injured by the Dark wizard and cursed, aning he could never return to Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in this lifeti.
This made the students who had once mocked Professor Quirrell blush with sha; consequently, when they applauded him at the End-of-Term Feast, their cheers were the loudest.
Morning.
Diagon Alley was still shrouded in a thin mist. The joke shop still had a long queue, but in front of the Fairy Tale Workshop, there wasn't a single wizard.
In a few minutes, it would be eight o'clock—opening ti.
Looking at the situation, Quirrell even doubted whether they could sell the fifty items they had prepared.
Even so, their prices remained exorbitant, with the cheapest item costing several hundred Galleons.
It seed they hadn't considered whether anyone would actually buy them.
Professor Quirrell understood that these might be powerful alchemical creations, but he truly couldn't fathom why a biscuit could be worth so much.
Just as when the first mobile phone appeared, no one knew how valuable that little black box could be.
There were no wizards queuing at the door of the Fairy Tale Workshop, but outside of Britain, the entry applications from alchemists had flooded the Ministry of Magic.
So alchemists declared bluntly:
"Whether the Ministry agrees or not, at eight o'clock this morning, we will arrive at Diagon Alley in Britain."
The entrance to the Fairy Tale Workshop was filled in an instant. Distinctive wizards appeared at the door the second the clock struck eight.
Quirrell had never seen such a scene—these wizards seed to appear out of thin air.
He didn't even know which countries these wizards were from: so wore sharp, practical silk robes; others wore headdresses made of feathers and expensive leather clothing; one was simply a black panther that agilely snatched a spot near the front.
However, without exception, they all recognized Professor Terra, who was presiding over the shop.
"Master Terra..."
"So glad to see you, Master Terra. The weather is lovely, isn't it..."
"You really picked up a gem, Terra."
They exchanged greetings, then eagerly turned their gazes to the window display.
"Seizing the magical authority of magical beasts... alchemical techniques akin to miracles. Let see—"
A Latina witch snapped her fingers, and a series of Fairy Tale Biscuits floated into her hands.
"Uagadou's Human Transfiguration has reached its limit, but in the vast magical world, there is always sothing waiting... Ten of each!"
As soon as she finished speaking, the surrounding wizards glared at her.
"Do you think the alchemists here can't afford the price? I advise you to calm down, miss. If you haven't missed the notice on the wooden board at the entrance, you should know that each person is limited to purchasing two items," a wizard in black robes said coldly.
Everyone glanced at her frostily, then began to select two suitable items from the four types of biscuits.
For the vast majority of wizards present, the research value of these biscuits far outweighed their practical use, so the choice had to be made with extre caution.
Before Professor Quirrell's brain could process the series of events, a group of wizards in Ministry uniforms entered.
They were from the Departnt of Magical Law Enforcent of the British Ministry of Magic. This departnt's subordinate offices included the Auror Office, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, the Improper Use of Magic Office, and the Wizengamot Administration Services.
It was the largest departnt in the British Ministry of Magic.
At this mont, they looked eager and anxious. The British Ministry of Magic had expended great effort to block the entry applications of Ministry officials from other countries, aning that being here was practically a perk exclusive to local wizards.
Among them was Mr. Weasley, with his red hair, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
Just this morning, he had received trendous news—
The alchemical workshop of the wizard revered as the most gifted in the alchemical world for six hundred years, the winner of the Gold Award for Pioneering Contribution at the Udala International Alchemical Symposium, was opening in Diagon Alley.
Every departnt in the Ministry had fought tooth and nail to represent the Ministry, but ultimately, the qualification went to the Departnt of Magical Law Enforcent. As ntioned, it was the largest departnt.
"Three thousand Galleons?!"
Mr. Weasley was startled by the price as soon as he entered.
That was nearly two or three years of his salary.
His face fell. The funds allocated by the Ministry were simply not enough. The cheaper categories had already been sold out, and the funds he currently held were insufficient to complete the task assigned by the British Ministry of Magic.
On the other side of the shop, the alchemists were incredibly lavish.
"I am willing to pay triple the price for another one."
The wizard from Uagadou approached Quirrell, who was still dazed—ten minutes after opening, half the biscuits were already sold.
"Rules are rules."
Quirrell snapped out of it and refused firmly.
"On the seventh of every month, the shop will restock, miss."
This was also written on the notice board at the entrance.
"..."
The wizard from Uagadou was silent for a mont. Seeing Terra, currently Uagadou's strongest alchemist, presiding over the shop, she sighed helplessly.
"Damn Terra, won't sell even one extra..." she muttered.
The Fairy Tale Workshop was buzzing with noise, not much different from the joke shop next door.
More importantly, the purchasing power of the wizards inside the Fairy Tale Workshop was truly formidable. To them, a few thousand Galleons seed like just a number. They spent it without blinking an eye.
The description under the glass counter for each biscuit perfectly explained the reason for all this:
"Fairy Tale Biscuit Series: Provides the ability to transform a wizard into a true magical beast. Currently available: Thestral, Bowtruckle, Hippogriff, and Dragon."
Seeing this description, Professor Quirrell himself felt an overwhelming surge of desire.
He imdiately looked toward the partitioned area of the shop where Mr. Green was quietly practicing magic.
He fully understood now. The Daily Prophet's report hadn't exaggerated in the slightest, nor had his fleeting thoughts been wrong.
...He had been foolish to doubt.
The biscuits in the Fairy Tale Workshop were disappearing at a visible rate. Mr. Weasley was sweating with anxiety.
"Not enough funds—too expensive—"
His murmurs were drowned out by the noise.
Wizards outside the Fairy Tale Workshop were curious seeing the strangely packed shop. So tried to squeeze in to see what was happening but were pushed aside by a group of reporters with caras.
They tried to force their way in without explanation, but Quirrell blocked the entrance.
"No reporting allowed."
"We're from the Daily Prophet, sir!" the wizard at the front said.
" Witch Weekly, sir! Witches are dying to know about this young master," a young witch said with a face full of anticipation. She had heard this master was incredibly young and handso...
"Mr. Agent, Transfiguration Today hopes you can give us thirty minutes. No, ten minutes will do," a scholarly-looking wizard spoke last.
But no matter how they explained, Quirrell ultimately didn't let a single wizard in.
While a verbal battle raged outside, things weren't much better inside.
Compared to other wizards begging Master Terra for more quota, Mr. Weasley was too embarrassed to ask for a lower price.
Sean had been studying Professor Dumbledore's notes on cross-species Transfiguration, but he accidentally overheard Mr. Weasley's complaints.
After roughly understanding the situation, he walked out of the partition.
"Mr. Weasley."
He greeted him.
"Green! So glad to see you here—are you here to learn?"
Mr. Weasley put aside his anxiety for a mont. No matter how anxious he was, the mission was likely failed anyway.
At worst, he'd get a reprimand. The Ministry shouldn't fire him over this... right?
An annoying face unconsciously floated into his mind—Lucius Malfoy, who was always good at making a fuss over such small matters.
"I'm here to watch, sir," Sean explained.
This was his alchemical workshop, after all.
Although Professor Terra was personally presiding over it, allowing him to stay behind the scenes and avoid the bewitching rhetoric of those wizards, he still had to watch silently.
"Watch?"
Mr. Weasley didn't quite understand, but he didn't ask further. Instead, he cast his worried gaze back to the products.
"One thousand five hundred Galleons. It would be enough to buy the cheapest Bowtruckle series for seven hundred Galleons, but now even the cheapest available Hippogriff series costs a thousand Galleons. I can't make up the difference..."
Mr. Weasley muttered to himself.
He involuntarily walked over to the Bowtruckle section, which had long been sold out—it was empty before they even entered.
He could explain the reason, but those Ministry officials might not listen.
While he was lost in thought, he suddenly heard a voice:
"Sir, there seem to be so left."
"Ah, Green, how could that be..."
He smiled bitterly, but suddenly noticed sothing new in the glass cabinet before him. Looking closer, there were actually two boxes of the Bowtruckle series.
With lightning speed, he grabbed the two biscuit boxes. After happily paying, he suddenly realized that the funds allocated by the Ministry had a surplus of one hundred Galleons.
This delighted him greatly.
But after the excitent faded, doubt filled his mind. Where did these biscuits co from?
Just then, Professor Quirrell entered the shop with a middle-aged witch.
He spotted Sean in the secluded corner imdiately.
Ignoring Mr. Weasley next to Sean, he spoke in a careful and respectful tone:
"Mr. Green, it's a special interview from the Chocolate Frog Card Committee. They wish to collect so information about you."
As he finished speaking, Mr. Weasley's jaw dropped as if he could fit an egg inside.
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