Early the next morning, Barry handed the manuscript for the second half to the editorial team.
Incidentally, Christopher's vacation plans had completely fallen through, and he was now back at work, suffering yet enjoying himself.
The whole of Bloomsbury Publishing entered a state bordering on frenzy.
The editors took turns reviewing the manuscript, each wanting to finish it first yet reluctant to read too quickly.
Stifled gasps and muttered curses kept coming from the office.
Meanwhile, good news arrived from the printing plant.
Starting that day, daily production of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Part One) had reached an astonishing fifty thousand copies.
The inventory backlog problem was completely resolved, replaced by the ability to supply books without interruption.
Christopher immediately passed the news on to Barry.
"Tell all our distributors," Barry said to his assistant as he put down the phone. "Starting today, there's no limit on supply. However many they want, that's how many we'll give them."
The news spread like wildfire through bookstores across Great Britain.
The first to receive notification was Alfred, the manager of the flagship bookstore on London's Oxford Street.
After putting down the phone, he sprang out of his chair.
"Mary!" he shouted through the doorway. "Bring me the purchase orders! Cross everything out and start over!"
His assistant Mary hurried in, still holding a stack of unfinished order forms. "What's wrong, sir?"
"The publisher says there's no longer any limit on supplies of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Part One!" Alfred rubbed his hands together, his face practically overflowing with smiles. "How many should we order?"
Mary thought for a moment. "Before, we could only get two hundred copies at a time. If there's no limit now... five hundred?"
"Five hundred?" Alfred shook his head. "Too stingy. A thousand."
"A... a thousand?" Mary's eyes widened. "Sir, that's a book by a debut author."
"A debut author?" Alfred laughed. "Mary, go take a look outside."
"We haven't even opened this morning, and there are already more than thirty people waiting in line. Every one of them is here for that book."
"I'm worried even a thousand copies won't be enough."
Mary opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing. She lowered her head and wrote the number "1,000" on the purchase order.
The same scene played out simultaneously across the country.
At Simon Bookstore in Manchester, the owner, Simon, was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke into the phone:
"Hello? Is this Bloomsbury? This is Simon from Simon Bookstore in Manchester. Yes, that's me, the one who ordered five hundred copies before."
"What? There's no limit now? Wonderful! I'll take two thousand!"
"Two thousand?!" The publishing employee on the other end sounded somewhat surprised. "Are you sure, Mr. Simon?"
"Absolutely." Simon leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "The last five hundred sold out in three days. These two thousand, I reckon, will only last a week."
"Just send them over. I've already cleared the space."
After hanging up, Simon gave the shop assistant beside him a thumbs-up. "See that? That's what you call foresight."
The assistant smiled helplessly. "Boss, you said the same thing when you ordered five hundred copies last time."
"But they did sell out..." he added quietly.
"Uh, that time was a fluke." Simon awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
At a chain bookstore in Liverpool, regional manager William was holding an emergency meeting.
"Everyone, I've just received word that the supply problem for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Part One, has been resolved."
Standing before the whiteboard, he wrote an enormous number with a marker. "My plan is for each of our seven Liverpool branches to order eight hundred copies."
A chorus of sharp intakes of breath filled the meeting room.
"Eight hundred per store? Wouldn't that mean ordering five thousand six hundred copies?" one store manager asked, raising a hand.
"Exactly." William nodded. "And that's only the first batch. If sales are good, I'll place an additional order immediately."
"But sir, can this book really sell that many copies?"
William walked to the window and pointed downstairs.
Through the glass, they could see a long, winding queue outside the bookstore, with at least seventy or eighty people.
The queue included students in school uniforms, office workers carrying briefcases, and young parents pushing strollers.
There were even a few young people in outlandish outfits, wearing black cloaks and holding things that looked like twigs.
Apparently, this was the cosplay that had suddenly become popular recently.
"See those people?" William said. "They're all here to buy that book."
"If we don't stock enough, they'll go to other bookstores. We can't just hand our business over to someone else."
The store managers exchanged looks, then finally nodded one after another.
At an independent bookstore in Edinburgh, the owner, Duncan, was gesticulating wildly as he spoke on the phone.
"Three thousand! Yes, three thousand! You heard me right!"
"Didn't you only order fifty copies before, Mr. Duncan?" the publishing employee on the other end asked in puzzlement.
"That's because there weren't any more available!" Duncan declared confidently. "Now that there are, of course I want to order a few more!"
"But three thousand... can your little shop hold that many?"
"I've cleared all the old books out of the storeroom! The whole storeroom is empty now, just waiting to be filled with Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone!"
After hanging up, Duncan rubbed his hands together and said to his wife beside him, "Darling, we're going to make a fortune this time."
His wife was knitting a sweater behind the counter and spoke without looking up:
"You said the same thing when you ordered A New History last time, and there are still three hundred copies piled in the basement."
"That's different!" Duncan said. "That was an academic work. This is a novel! Novels sell fast!"
"Let's hope so," his wife said flatly.
Duncan did not argue further. He walked to the window and watched the people queuing outside, a smile of absolute confidence on his lips.
This time, I'll sell copies like crazy.
Bookstores throughout Great Britain experienced an unprecedented boom.
Almost every bookstore put up custom-made giant posters on the same day.
On the posters, a little boy wearing round glasses stood before a steam train, with a brilliant starry sky overhead and a stone-paved road beneath his feet leading toward a distant castle.
Large gold-foil lettering at the bottom of the posters read:
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Part One), now fully in stock!"
In the Oxford Street flagship store's display window, the poster took up an entire wall.
Alfred stood at the entrance, watching the queue stretch from the door all the way to the street corner, feeling both excited and nervous.
"Will a thousand copies be enough?" he asked himself quietly.
The answer was no.