In the Prime Minister's office at 10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister sat at his desk with a thick stack of economic reports spread out before him.
Dusk had already fallen outside, and the London sky had turned a hazy gray-blue.
He had been working for almost twelve hours straight, but his productivity had been pitifully low.
The numbers in those reports left him irritated and distracted.
Unemployment was still rising, and although inflation had eased somewhat, it remained nowhere near the expected level.
Manufacturing continued to shrink, and revenue from the North Sea Oil Fields had begun to decline as well.
Meanwhile, in the Europe Community, the people of Gaul and Hans Country were pushing for closer monetary integration, while their own country, once the empire on which the sun never set, still lingered on the sidelines.
He rubbed his temples, feeling deeply exhausted.
Just then, a faint cough suddenly came from the oil painting in the corner.
"To the Muggle Prime Minister. Requesting an urgent meeting. Please reply immediately. Yours faithfully, Fudge," said the little man in the painting.
"All right, ask him to come over." The Prime Minister wearily pressed his fingers to his forehead.
The flames in the fireplace flickered, then suddenly turned green.
They churned and swelled inside the fireplace, forming a swirling green passage.
A moment later, a short, plump man wearing purplish-red robes and a tall, round-topped hat stepped out of the flames and brushed a little soot from his cuffs.
"Good evening, Prime Minister."
A practiced smile on his face, Fudge walked up to the desk, pulled up a chair like an old friend, and sat down.
The Prime Minister took a deep breath and closed the documents before him.
"Mr. Fudge," he said, "this really isn't a good time."
"I know, I know." Fudge waved a hand. "I'm very sorry to disturb you so late at night, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
Fudge took a book out of his pocket and placed it on the desk.
The boy on the cover wore round glasses and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
The Prime Minister glanced at the cover, then looked back up at Fudge.
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," he said. "I've heard of this book. My secretary's daughter is particularly fond of it."
"That's precisely the problem," Fudge said, his tone growing serious. "This book involves secrets of our Wizarding World. A great many secrets."
The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow.
"You mean the things written in this book... are real?"
"I don't know much about that... Wizarding World of yours. I thought it was all made up."
Fudge's expression stiffened, and he coughed.
"That isn't the point." He evaded the question. "The point is that this book is spreading widely throughout the Muggle world. Thousands upon thousands of Muggles are reading it, discussing it, and even-"
"Even what?"
"Even beginning to believe that magic actually exists," Fudge said. "This violates the International Statute of Secrecy. We must take action."
The Prime Minister fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly.
"What do you want me to do?"
"It's very simple." Fudge leaned forward slightly. "Ban the printing and sale of this book in the government's name. Declare it a banned book."
"Then confiscate all remaining stock and make it disappear from the market entirely."
The Prime Minister lowered his gaze to the book's cover. The little boy with round glasses was looking at him with an innocent smile.
"Mr. Fudge," the Prime Minister began slowly, "do you know how many copies this book has sold in the past two weeks?"
Fudge paused. "I don't care about that-"
"Over five hundred thousand," the Prime Minister interrupted. "And that number is still growing."
"This book is driving a whole range of related industries: printing, logistics, retail, toy manufacturing."
"My staff tell me that the indirect economic benefits from this book alone could amount to tens of millions of pounds."
He paused and looked Fudge straight in the eye.
"We are in a recession, Mr. Fudge. Unemployment is high, industrial output is falling, and public confidence has hit rock bottom."
"And this book is getting people back into bookshops, getting them spending again, getting them excited about something again."
"I don't care about any of that," Fudge said, a trace of impatience in his voice. "The secrets of the Wizarding World are more important than your economy."
"Are they?" The Prime Minister's tone cooled. "Then what alternative can your Wizarding World offer my country?"
"Can you create jobs? Stimulate spending? Increase tax revenue?"
Can you make us the center of the world again? the Prime Minister added coldly to himself.
Fudge opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words.
"You can't," the Prime Minister answered for him. "So I will not ban this book."
Fudge's expression darkened.
"Prime Minister, I must remind you-"
"Mr. Fudge," the Prime Minister interrupted again, "I respect the rules of your Wizarding World."
"But my duty is to govern this country and protect its interests. This book is helping me do that."
"I will not strangle a thriving industry for a reason I cannot explain to Parliament."
He rose and walked to the window, turning his back on Fudge.
"I understand your concerns. But my answer is no."
Silence fell over the office.
Fudge sat in his chair, his expression shifting.
He stared at the Prime Minister's back for quite some time before finally standing.
"This book is certain to cause serious trouble in the future. You'll regret this," he said.
"Perhaps." The Prime Minister did not turn around. "But that's my business."
Fudge gave a cold snort and turned toward the fireplace.
He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the fire. Green flames rose once more.
"The Ministry of Magic will not tolerate this book's existence." With those words, he disappeared into the flames.
The green flames slowly faded, returning to their normal orange-yellow.
The Prime Minister remained by the window, looking out over London at night.
He felt a deep exhaustion from within.
He thought back over everything since he had taken office.
Great Britain had once ruled a quarter of the land on Blue Star, yet now it resembled an old man in his twilight years, struggling to survive amid one crisis after another.
The bipolar confrontation had put Great Britain in an awkward position.
Both Lighthouse Country and Hairy Bear Country were courting Europe, but Great Britain was neither a core nation of continental Europe nor a close ally of Lighthouse Country.
Instead, it was awkwardly stuck in the middle, pleasing neither side.
The economy was in even more of a mess. The previous Prime Minister's legacy was a double-edged sword: she had indeed revitalized Great Britain's economy, but she had also torn society apart.
Miners' strikes, waves of unemployment, a widening gap between rich and poor... these problems remained unresolved.
And on the question of Europe, his party had already split into two camps.
The former Prime Minister's faction firmly opposed any surrender of sovereignty, arguing that Great Britain should maintain its independence.
The other faction believed that Great Britain had to integrate more deeply into Europe to secure a place in Blue Star's future competition.
He had tried to take the middle road, only to please neither side.
The former Prime Minister's faction criticized him as weak, saying he had betrayed her legacy.
The other faction called him indecisive and lacking in leadership.
The media mocked him mercilessly, calling him "the mediocre Prime Minister," "a coward," and "the man forever living in his predecessor's shadow."
As a Prime Minister who had inherited a tangled mess, he longed to prove himself.
He longed to escape that woman's shadow and build a political legacy of his own.
He hoped to establish a more compassionate conservatism, a society that could maintain economic vitality while caring for the vulnerable.
He hoped Great Britain could play a central role in Europe rather than hovering indecisively at the door as it did now.
He hoped to become a respected leader rather than a transitional figure mocked by the media.
Yet those hopes seemed so feeble in the face of reality.
He turned, walked back to his desk, and looked down at Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
The appearance of this book, however, had been an unexpected blessing for him.
It had not only brought economic benefits; more importantly, it had put Great Britain on a path toward becoming a center of cultural exports again.
For a nation in decline, that was an intangible asset.
And for him, it was undoubtedly a straw to clutch at. Whether or not it could turn the current situation around, he could not give up that asset.
He picked up the telephone and dialed a number.
"This is the Prime Minister," he said. "Put me through to the Ministry of Publicity."
A flurry of call-transfer sounds came from the other end.
A few seconds later, a voice answered. "Prime Minister, this is the duty secretary at the Ministry of Publicity."
"I need you to do something for me," the Prime Minister said. "You know that book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good," the Prime Minister said. "Once the complete edition is published, I want every major newspaper to give it detailed, favorable coverage. Not just a comment or two, but full-page features."
"Sir... are you sure? This book is children's literature, after all-"
"I'm sure," the Prime Minister interrupted. "And not just domestically. I want you to contact the Foreign Office and have them export this book overseas as widely as possible through cultural promotion channels."
"Lighthouse Country, Maple Leaf Country, Kangaroo Country, Gaul... cover every English-speaking country."
"But sir, we know absolutely nothing about this book's author-"
"That isn't important," the Prime Minister said. "What matters is that this book is making the whole world pay attention to Great Britain's cultural exports again. We cannot let this opportunity slip by again."
"Understood, sir. I'll make the arrangements as soon as possible."
"Good," the Prime Minister said. "One more thing."
"Your instructions, sir?"
"Have the BBC produce a special program. About this book's phenomenal success and its significance for Great Britain's cultural industries."
"Understood."
The Prime Minister hung up, leaned back in his chair, and wearily closed his eyes.
He did not know whether what he was doing was right, but he knew that, for now, he had no other choice.
Like a drowning man who spotted a straw, he would grab it without hesitation, whether it was useful or not.
He opened the copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone on his desk. Although he was not someone who enjoyed reading fantasy novels, he sincerely hoped this book would be a tremendous success.
"I hope you don't disappoint me," he whispered, his gaze falling on the open book.