In the office of Bloomsbury Publishing, an old radio crackled with static.
"...Bloomsbury Publishing has officially released Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition). Overseas publication is reportedly progressing steadily..."
Barry leaned back in his chair, holding a steaming cup of coffee, an irrepressible smile on his lips.
"Did you hear that, Christopher?" He turned to his partner on the sofa opposite him. "Our overseas publishing plans are going smoothly."
Christopher sat on the sofa with his chin propped on one hand, his gaze somewhat unfocused.
He seemed to be thinking about something. Only when he heard Barry did he come back to himself and rub between his brows. "That's wonderful."
Barry raised an eyebrow and set down his coffee cup. "Why do you look so distracted?"
Christopher shook his head. "It's nothing... I just keep feeling that something is going to happen."
"Something's going to happen?" Barry laughed. "What could possibly happen?"
"Our books are selling like crazy, we've sold the overseas rights, and the printing presses are running twenty-four hours a day. Everything is going according to plan."
"I know," Christopher said. "But for some reason, I keep feeling uneasy."
The voice on the radio continued. "...Emergency announcement: according to the weather bureau's forecast, parts of Great Britain will experience thunderstorms today. Residents are advised to avoid going out wherever possible..."
Barry instinctively turned toward the window.
A thick blanket of dark clouds had covered the sky. It was as dark as evening, and the entire street lay shrouded in gloom.
A fierce wind had sprung up at some point, shaking the plane trees outside the window violently. Withered yellow leaves were swept into the air, fluttering about in panic.
Lightning streaked across the sky like the roots of an upside-down tree, bursting into dazzling white light across the heavens.
Thirty thousand feet above the ground, several silvery-white cargo planes flew steadily above the clouds.
Rows of cardboard boxes were stacked neatly inside their holds, each printed with the same image: a young boy wearing round glasses, with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
It was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).
The shipment was bound for Bald Eagle Country, with the planes carrying more than a hundred thousand copies between them.
In the cockpit, the pilot, Jack, chewed gum, holding the control column in one hand while adjusting several knobs on the instrument panel with the other.
He pressed the radio button. "...Roger, we're en route. Estimated arrival in Bald Eagle Country in seven hours..."
A muffled sound came through the radio, as though someone was speaking, but the signal was so poor that he could not make out the words.
"Hello? What did you say?" Jack frowned and brought the radio closer to his ear.
He still could not hear clearly.
"What a lousy signal," he muttered. He called his copilot's name. "Hey, why aren't you saying anything?"
The copilot did not respond.
Puzzled, Jack turned and saw his copilot staring fixedly out the window, beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Jack nudged his copilot's arm with his elbow.
The copilot slowly turned his head and swallowed, his voice a little hoarse. "I think I know why the signal's bad."
"Why?"
"Look out the window on my side."
Jack turned in confusion and looked out the right-hand window.
Then he saw something he would never forget for the rest of his life.
An enormous wall of pitch-black clouds towered in the sky, like a mountain range built from storm clouds, stretching alongside their flight path.
Purple-white lightning flashed constantly through the clouds, like enormous glowing snakes rolling through a sea of clouds.
Lightning kept bursting within the cloud mass, each flash illuminating the outlines of the pitch-black clouds, as though some ferocious beast were watching them hungrily.
"Oh God..." Jack murmured.
"Can... can we go around it?" the copilot asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Only then did the radar warning sound.
Jack hurriedly looked at the radar screen. An enormous red area covered almost all the surrounding airspace.
"We can't go around it," he said slowly. "This thunderstorm covers too large an area."
"Then what do we do?"
Jack gritted his teeth and made his decision. "Lose altitude. We'll go underneath the clouds."
"Are you crazy?" The copilot's voice rose sharply. "The air currents below the clouds are even more unstable!"
"That's still better than flying straight into a thunderstorm!" Jack roared. "Hold on!"
He shoved the control column forward, and the plane began to dive.
The aircraft began jolting violently, and the sound of cardboard boxes tumbling about came from the hold.
The copilot gripped his armrests tightly, his face deathly pale.
The light outside grew dimmer and dimmer as they plunged into the clouds.
Rain and hail began battering the windshield. Dense sheets of water poured over the glass, accompanied by the incessant clattering of hail.
Lightning burst around them, each flash bathing the cockpit in a stark white glare.
Jack gripped the control column tightly, his eyes fixed on the instrument panel as sweat trickled down his temples.
"We're still losing altitude..." The copilot read the instruments. "Sixteen thousand feet... fifteen thousand feet..."
"Keep steady," Jack said through gritted teeth.
A violent jolt struck, as though an enormous invisible hand had given the entire plane a vicious shake.
The copilot cried out, and Jack slammed hard against his seat back.
The sound of cardboard boxes collapsing came from the hold.
"Damn it!" Jack swore. "These air currents are too strong!"
He fought desperately to steady the control column and bring the plane back into balance.
But the wind was simply too strong. The plane tumbled like a leaf in the gale, pitching up and down and swaying from side to side.
The copilot's face had gone utterly white. "Are... are we going to make it?"
"Shut up!" Jack roared. "Hold on tight!"
The plane gave a sudden shudder, and the needles on the instrument panel began jumping wildly.
"The engine... something's wrong with the engine!" the copilot shouted in terror.
Jack glanced at the instrument panel. The left engine's RPM was dropping rapidly.
"Left engine flameout!" he roared. "Activate the backup procedure!"
The copilot fumbled frantically with the switches on the panel, but the engine's RPM continued to fall.
"It's no use! The backup procedure won't activate!"
Jack gritted his teeth and made a difficult decision. "Shut down the left engine. We'll fly on one engine."
"On one engine? In this weather?"
"Do you have a better idea?!"
The copilot opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing and silently carried out the order.
Powered by a single engine, the plane continued struggling in the gale.
Jack held the control column in a death grip. He could feel the plane gradually losing altitude, but he could no longer worry about all that.
He only hoped they could land alive.
On the grounds of Hogwarts, Hagrid was securing the fence beside his hut.
With the gale arriving so suddenly, he was afraid his fence would be blown down.
His beard streamed behind him, and his cloak snapped in the wind. He had to hunch over just to barely keep his footing.
"Merlin's beard!" he muttered, tying one corner of the fence to a wooden post with a thick rope. "This blasted weather! How did it change so suddenly?"
Just as he crouched down to tie a knot, something struck his back and fell to the ground.
"What was that?" he muttered, turning around.
A book lay on the ground.
The young boy on the cover wore round glasses and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).
Hagrid paused, then bent down and picked up the book. He turned it over to look at the back cover, then opened it to check the publication details on the title page.
"Huh? Where did this fall from?"
He looked up and saw the scene in the sky.
The gale howled, and dark clouds churned.
Among the dark clouds, small black specks danced in the wind.
The black specks were densely packed, like a flock of birds swept up by the wind, or rain falling in reverse.
Hagrid narrowed his eyes and took a closer look.
Those black specks... were books.
"Merlin..." he murmured. "Could the gale have blown them here from the Muggle world?"
He knew about the temporary law the Ministry of Magic had recently passed, so naturally he understood that this book could not possibly appear in the wizarding world.
"But I am curious about what happens next in this book," he said to himself.
He glanced at the fence. Most of it was already secured, and the remaining sections could wait until the wind died down.
So he turned and went into his hut, eagerly closing the door behind him.
The fireplace inside was blazing, filling the hut with warmth.
He brewed a steaming cup of tea and opened the book.
In Diagon Alley, Blotts was hurrying back to Flourish and Blotts.
He had just been chatting with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron about the recent situation in the wizarding world.
He had not expected the sky to turn so overcast in the blink of an eye.
"The weather certainly changes quickly," he muttered, quickening his pace.
Just then, the sound of pages flipping rapidly came from behind him.
He instinctively turned, and a book smacked him squarely in the face.
"Ow!"
The impact sent Blotts stumbling back two steps, and the book fell to the ground.
"What inconsiderate lout threw a book in my face?!" he cursed angrily, bending down to pick it up.
He instinctively glanced at the title.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).
His cursing stopped short.
He hurriedly tucked the book against his chest, stood up with a nonchalant expression, and glanced around.
Fortunately, no one was nearby.
He sighed in relief and instinctively looked up in the direction the book had come from.
Countless books were dancing in the wind.
The books kept falling from the sky, spinning and tumbling in the gale like a blizzard made of paper.
Some struck rooftops, some landed in the street, and some were blown farther away.
Blotts stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly at this "rain of books," his mouth open wide enough to fit an egg.
"Merlin's beard..." he murmured.
Clutching the book, he hurriedly ran toward Flourish and Blotts.
Meanwhile, Rita Skeeter sat at the desk in her home, a stack of blank parchment spread before her.
She was planning her next article about Harry Potter.
Her previous article about the Chosen One's childhood had sent sales of the Daily Prophet soaring.
The editor-in-chief had grinned from ear to ear and given her a generous bonus.
But Rita knew that had only been the first half of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
There was a second half, and it had reportedly already been published in the Muggle world.
Unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic had suddenly issued a ban on the book, making it very difficult for her to obtain the second half now.
If she could get hold of its contents, she would certainly be able to write an even more sensational article.
Just as she was considering how to get the book, a sudden thud came from the window.
Startled, Rita rose from her desk and walked over to the window.
A book had struck her window and then fallen onto the windowsill.
From where she stood, she could just make out the title:
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).