Pomona saw an advertisement in the Daily Prophet: Miraculous potion, permanently eliminates excess fat, guaranteed effective or your money back at the original price.
She looked down at her waist, then back at the newspaper.
"That's a scam." The Potions master flipped through another copy of the Daily Prophet. "If you buy it, all you'll get is a pile of useless snake oil."
"But it's a big company," Pomona argued.
The master curled his lips in mockery. "Do you think that because they develop many varieties of potions and employ lots of people, they're a big company?"
"What else would they be?"
"They're simply good at lying. Do you really think they'd refund your money if their slimming potion didn't work?"
Pomona anxiously glanced at the newspaper again.
"You aren't fat, Pomona. It's only the effect of Polyjuice Potion," he said softly. "You should focus your energy elsewhere."
"I'm not interested in Quidditch either." She set aside the newspaper, which was filled from cover to cover with Quidditch reports, and continued concentrating on how to arrange the maze.
The Potions master continued reading on the sofa in her office.
In Britain and America, there was a trading system known as the potions stock market. Though somewhat similar to the Muggle securities market, it was not quite the same.
Scamander's memory-erasing potion had once been of great use in New York. He had even dispersed it through rainfall, making it more convenient and safer than a large-scale Memory Charm. If he had listed that potion on the market, its value would have risen rapidly in an era when Grindelwald was causing so many magical disasters. In peacetime, however, it would have held little value.
Making this potion required Doxy venom. Scamander's had been "freshly squeezed." If the venom's memory-erasing effect