Early one morning a few days later, London's fog had yet to clear.
Christopher sat in his office, the telephone before him ringing almost nonstop.
He had just hung up on a bookshop in Edinburgh chasing an order when it rang again.
"Hello?"
"Christopher, it's me." Barry's voice was distinctly hoarse. "How are things on your end?"
"I've taken more than a dozen calls since six this morning." Christopher rubbed his temples. "All chasing orders."
"Same here." Barry sighed. "The printers have been running nonstop for five days. The workers are taking shifts, and the machines are practically smoking."
"Can we add another production line?"
"We already are," Barry said. "But to be honest, even two more lines probably wouldn't keep up with the current demand."
Christopher fell silent for a while.
"Do you know what happened this morning?" Barry suddenly asked.
"What?"
"The literary review column in The Times gave the book a little recommendation."
Christopher sat up straight. "Really?"
"Really." There was a hint of excitement in Barry's voice. "It was only a few short sentences, but you know what that means."
"The mainstream media is starting to take notice."
"Exactly," Barry said. "And it's not just The Times. I hear people at The Guardian and The Daily Telegraph have started writing pieces too."
Christopher leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling.
Suddenly, he felt that all of this was happening faster than he had expected.
"And this is only the first half."
"Exactly. This book has even more potential than we imagined."
"I think this book is going to sell well all over the world."
"I wasn't quite convinced when you said that before," Barry said, his voice excited. "But now I fully believe it can."
They both laughed.
Meanwhile, in a little alley in London's East End, a middle-aged man in an old trench coat stood before the window of a small bookshop.
His name was Edmund, and he was an ordinary journalist in the Muggle world.
Of course, that "ordinary" was from the Muggles' perspective.
In fact, he was one of the observers the Ministry of Magic had stationed in the Muggle world, responsible for watching for unusual incidents in Muggle society.
The job was utterly boring.
His daily work consisted of sitting in cafés reading newspapers, occasionally strolling through a park and recording the Muggles' daily lives.
Today, he had gone out on his usual patrol. As he passed a bookshop, a poster in the window caught the corner of his eye.
The little boy on the poster wore round glasses and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
A line of text read:
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Part One)-selling fast!
Edmund's pupils abruptly contracted.
Harry Potter.
There was arguably no one in the entire wizarding world who did not know that name.
On the night You-Know-Who fell, this was the boy who had lived.
He had personally defeated You-Know-Who and successfully ended the war in the wizarding world.
But why were his name and likeness now appearing on a book written by a Muggle?
Edmund's heart began to race. Forcing himself to calm down, he pushed open the bookshop door.
Behind the counter, a young shop assistant was sorting through a pile of stock order forms. Seeing someone enter, the assistant immediately looked up.
"Welcome!"
"Hello." Edmund approached the counter, trying to sound casual. "I'd like to ask about the book on that poster in the window..."
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?" The assistant smiled. "Sold out, sir. It sold out ages ago."
"Sold out?" Edmund frowned. "That quickly?"
"Yes, it's been incredibly popular lately." The assistant lowered their voice a little. "Our boss says it's the fastest-selling book he's ever had since opening the shop."
Edmund fell silent for a moment, then decided to try a different line of questioning.
"What... is the book about?"
The assistant paused, then their eyes lit up. "You haven't read it yet? Then I highly recommend buying a copy."
"It's about a boy who grows up living in the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt's house. Then he discovers he's a wizard and gets accepted into a magic school called Hogwarts."
"There's a talking hat, moving staircases, a sport played on broomsticks... it's fantastic."
Edmund froze. What did they mean, "grows up living in the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt's house"?
Could the Chosen One of the wizarding world really have had such a miserable life?
No, this wasn't the time to think about that... Hogwarts, a talking hat, a sport played on broomsticks-that had to be Quidditch.
Weren't those all things from the wizarding world? How could they possibly appear in a book in the Muggle world?
"Who is the author?" he asked, probing indirectly.
"Allen Vane," the assistant said. "He's a new author. No one had heard of him before."
Never mind you, I've never heard of anyone by that name in the wizarding world either...
Edmund nodded and asked no more questions.
He turned and left the bookshop, taking a deep breath of London's damp air.
He had to return to the Ministry of Magic immediately and report this to his superiors.
Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley.
A witch with greying hair stood before a bookshelf, holding a book in her hands, her brow deeply furrowed.
Her name was Millicent. She was a regular customer at the bookshop and a longtime subscriber to the Daily Prophet.
She had originally come to buy Lockhart's new book today, but had spotted a strange book on the counter.
There was no trace of magic on its cover, and its pages were coarse Muggle print.
But the title had stopped her in her tracks.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Part One).
Thinking she had misread it, she rubbed her eyes and looked again.
There was no mistake. Those were the words.
"Mr. Blotts," she called to the shopkeeper, who was arranging the shelves. "Where did this book come from?"
Blotts turned, glanced at the book in her hands, and an odd expression crossed his face.
"Oh, that," he said. "A young wizard left it in my shop this morning."
"He said he'd brought it back from the Muggle world. Apparently, it's selling very well among Muggles."
Millicent raised her eyebrows. "Written by a Muggle?"
"Yes... I believe so." Blotts nodded. "The author's name is Allen Vane."
"It mentions Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and even that boy's name."
Millicent opened the book and scanned a few lines.
She read about the Dursleys and some of the things that had happened on Privet Drive, then could stand no more.
"That's impossible," she said quietly. "Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who. How could his childhood have been so miserable?"
"This book must be making it all up!"
She took a deep breath to compose herself. "But how did Harry Potter and matters concerning the wizarding world end up in a book in the Muggle world?"
"I find it very strange too," Blotts said. "But this book really has been circulating in the Muggle world."
"Apparently, it's already sold tens of thousands of copies."
Millicent was silent for a moment, then closed the book.
"I'll buy it," she said. "How much?"
Blotts waved a hand. "Another customer left this book here. I can't sell it."
"If you want to know more, why not go to the Muggle world and buy a copy yourself?"
Only then did Millicent remember that someone else had left the book there. She could only put it down and hurry out of Flourish and Blotts, intending to buy it in the Muggle world.
Watching Millicent leave, Blotts's lips curled into a smile. "Apparently, it was snapped up in the Muggle world ages ago. I'm afraid you're too late now."
"Good thing I sent Flourish to the Muggle world to buy it for me this morning."
As he was thinking this, a man stepped through the doorway.
It was none other than Mr. Flourish, the other owner of Flourish and Blotts.
"Oh, Flourish, where's the book I asked you to buy?" Blotts's eyes widened in surprise at Flourish's empty hands.
"Don't ask. It's been out of stock in the Muggle world for ages. I went to several different areas, and not one bookshop had a copy!" Flourish said helplessly.
"What?!"