The next morning, Bloomsbury Publishing was bustling with activity.
Barry slammed the publication plan for " Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Part 1)" onto the conference table, and everyone in the editorial department crowded around to look.
When they saw the number "Chapter 11", someone whistled softly.
"Eleven chapters? This one is longer than the previous two."
What about pricing?
"The usual price, three pounds."
Where's the poster?
"It's already in the design phase: a dark purple background with a black dog and castle silhouette, and the title in silver foil."
"Okay, let's do it that way."
The news spread like wildfire.
The bookstores were the first to react.
On the afternoon of the same day that Alfred, the owner of the flagship bookstore on Oxford Street, received the notification from the publisher, he cleared out half of the store window to make room for new posters.
Simon, the owner of the bookstore in Manchester, confirmed with the publisher several times on the phone, then turned to his clerk and said, "Clear out the warehouse; I want to order 50,000 copies this time."
"Fifty thousand copies? But the other books in the warehouse haven't all been sold yet, the warehouse definitely won't be able to hold them all—"
"If they don't sell, just throw them away! This is Harry Potter, not one of those unsellable novels. When have you ever seen a Harry Potter book that doesn't sell?"
The shop assistant thought about it and realized that the boss made sense, so he obediently went to clear out the warehouse.
At the entrance of Duncan Bookstore in Edinburgh, Duncan didn't even use a ladder this time; he simply pasted the poster onto the door panel, with a handwritten notice pinned below it:
" Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Part 1) will be released on September 1st at 9:00 AM."
In the Liverpool bookstore chain, regional manager William cleaned the whiteboard in the dispatch room and rewrote the stocking plan for the seven stores.
His assistant, looking at the number on the whiteboard, couldn't help but ask, "Manager, isn't 20,000 for one store too much?"
William didn't even turn his head. "Have you forgotten that when ' The Chamber of Secrets ' was released last time, the line outside the flagship store stretched two blocks to the next street?"
"That's true..."
"Prepare this quantity of goods; I'll take responsibility if anything goes wrong."
Newspapers in the Muggle world quickly followed suit.
The Times ' culture section published a brief preview in the first week of August:
Bloomsbury Publishing announced that the third book in the Harry Potter series, * The Prisoner of Azkaban *, will be officially released on September 1st.
The Daily Telegraph's supplement dedicated half a page to a feature article titled " Harry Potter is back."
The Guardian's opinion section offered some alternative perspectives.
"I admit this series has its charm," wrote a columnist named Peter Thorne.
"But generating the same buzz at the same time and in the same way for three consecutive years seems more like a marketing strategy than a literary phenomenon."
"I'm not saying Harry Potter is badly written, I'm just saying, shouldn't we calm down a bit?"
"The phenomenon of a book being pre-selected as 'best of the year' before it's even published is not necessarily a good thing for a healthy reading ecosystem."
This article sparked considerable debate in the reader's letter section.
" Thorne is right, the atmosphere is indeed too frenzied."
"Why do you care what books people buy? Readers are willing to line up; what business is it of yours?"
"Exactly, it's a good thing that someone is willing to get up at 3 a. m. to queue up for a book. Why do you have to pour cold water on that idea? Do you think you're so clear-headed?"
"I just feel that the quality of a book shouldn't be determined by its sales figures."
"Then who decides? You decide?"
Similar arguments are taking place everywhere – in cafes, office break rooms, and subway cars – and they're raging on.
But no matter how much controversy there is, people's enthusiasm for " Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban " is undoubtedly getting higher and higher.
In a narrow back alley in London, a skinny black dog lay on the wet cobblestones.
Its ribs protruded one by one, and its black fur was covered with mud and rainwater.
In front of it lay a newspaper that had been tossed on the ground; it was yesterday's the Times, with the culture section facing up, revealing the announcement about the upcoming release of " Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."
The black dog's nose was almost touching the paper, and its gray eyes stared at the line of text for a long time, a thoughtful look that shouldn't be present in an animal's eyes flashing across them.
It made a very low sound in its throat, then raised its head and looked out at the street illuminated by the morning light at the alley entrance.
It slowly stood up, its four legs supporting its emaciated, skeletal body as it walked north.
As it walked out of the alley, a passerby frowned, glanced at it, stepped aside, and muttered, "Where did this stray dog come from?"
The black dog ignored him, and simply walked north along the base of the wall step by step with its head down.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere at Number Four, Privet Drive was much livelier than usual.
Vernon, wearing a blue suit jacket that he usually wouldn't wear, paced back and forth in the living room, glancing at the wall clock every now and then.
Petunia was busy preparing afternoon tea in the kitchen. The aroma of cakes wafting from the oven mingled with the steam rising from the teapot, making the whole house feel warm and cozy.
" Dudley!" Vernon called upstairs, "Your aunt will be here soon, come down and tidy up the living room!"
Dudley poked half his head out from the stairs: "I'm busy right now--"
"What are you so busy with! Get down here!"
Dudley shuffled downstairs, still clutching his handheld game console.
Vernon glared at him, reluctantly stuffed the game console into his pocket, and began slowly tidying up the cushions on the sofa.
Harry stood in the kitchen doorway, watching this scene, feeling somewhat uneasy.
Aunt Marge.
He had seen her a few times, but each time it only lasted a few days.
In my memory, that woman had a large, red face, and her voice was as loud as Vernon's, but even more Vernon.
She lives in the countryside year-round, keeps a pack of bulldogs, and rarely goes out to visit others.
In Vernon's words, "She couldn't bear to abandon the dogs."
She neither read books nor newspapers; every time she came to the Dursley family, it was only to see Dudley.
She liked Dudley... Dudley liked her too, because Aunt Marge always brought him gifts.
Harry's relationship with Aunt Marge has never been good, or rather, Aunt Marge has never been very polite to him.
"When will she arrive?" Harry asked.
"The train arrives at 3:40," Vernon said without turning around. "I'll pick her up at the station at 4:00. You just need to stay in your room as much as possible."
"Knew."
Harry turned and went back upstairs.