This sort of Magic Mobile Phone, with its enormous screen and controls operated by placing one hand on a stone slab, had a special name: an arcade machine.
Draco thought the name was quite distinctive. A Magic Mobile Phone you could play on the street-calling it an arcade machine made perfect sense.
He was in the queue for the regular Magic Mobile Phones. The adults in front of him sat on tall stools, so he could not see what they were playing.
He turned his attention to the people playing on an arcade machine nearby.
The two wizards were dressed casually, but their eyes held such focus that Draco felt even a Ministry of Magic raid at that moment would not affect them.
Each had one palm resting on the stone slab in front of the arcade machine, all five fingers spread, looking utterly devout.
A question suddenly occurred to Draco: were these slabs cleaned regularly? Otherwise, with so many people touching them, that was far too unhygienic.
On the enormous screen, two figures resembling wizards stood on opposite sides.
The one on the left held his wand horizontally before him, his posture elegant and his feet hovering just above the ground. As he moved, only his clothes stirred slightly, giving him quite the air of a reclusive master.
Draco checked his name. Slytherin-as expected, one of his own illustrious predecessors.
Gryffindor, on the right, looked more easygoing. He walked along the ground, his wand pointed at his opponent in standard form. Every movement conveyed an easy confidence, and he even laughed aloud from time to time.
What a lunatic, Draco grumbled inwardly.
Draco had not tried this game yet, so from his perspective, the two were simply firing waves of light nonstop. Green and silver collided repeatedly with red and gold, while the health bars above their heads rose and fell.
It did look pretty cool.
Draco kept watching and managed to pick up a few things.
The characters had two types of attacks. One consisted of simple minor skills like Incendio and the Freezing Charm, with smaller waves of light and low damage that caused no hitstun even when they landed; the other consisted of major skills like Diffindo and Stupefy, which dealt either high damage or prolonged hitstun, with waves of light that were both wide and far-reaching.
Below the health bars were blue bars that seemed to represent their magic. They increased over time and whenever the two attacked or took hits, allowing them to unleash higher-damage skills.
Aside from those, there were also healing spells and counter spells like Expecto Patronum, the Shield Charm, and Finite Incantatem.
There were even environmental interactions. Draco saw Gryffindor pick up a plank that had been knocked to the ground and use it to block Slytherin's attack.
That sneaky Gryffindor!
Within a few minutes, Gryffindor on the right won the fight. He tucked his wand back into his pocket and wiped a sword he had never drawn with his clothes.
"Unfair!" Draco cried indignantly.
The two sitting at the arcade machine had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Coming out of that exhilarating battle, they exchanged a glance at Draco's shout, then laughed.
"I think it's unfair too. Gryffindor's mana cost for the Shield Charm is too low. All you have to do is turtle and build mana."
"No problem, we've still got time. You play Gryffindor this round, and I'll play Slytherin. Let me show you how to school someone from either side of the matchup."
The two started another round, but this time Slytherin won.
The winner rolled his neck and stood up in satisfaction, patting the other man on the shoulder. "Don't blame the road when you can't walk properly. Slytherin's damage increases based on how much mana he has when he casts. And with this combo of mine, if you fail to block even one hit, I can take off more than half your health."
"Keep practicing."
The two left, laughing and play-fighting, looking like friends who had known each other for a long time.
Their backsides had barely left their seats before someone cast Scourgify with a wand and sat down.
"Invincible Hufflepuff, seeking just one defeat. Waiting for a decent player."
"I'll take you on!"
"..."
Watching another match start so quickly, Draco could not help reflecting: So the Wizarding World is full of warmongers.
"Draco, did you come alone?"
Draco turned to look. Professor Quirrell had appeared beside him at some point.
"With Crabbe and Goyle, Professor Quirrell."
Draco was perfectly polite. The Professor Quirrell before him did not smell of garlic, nor did he have that ugly scarf wrapped around his head, and he spoke with ease. Compared with how he had been at school, he really was much easier to like.
"Don't call me Professor anymore. Just call me Quirrell. I've already been dismissed from my post at Hogwarts." Quirrell waved a hand. "Well, do you have any suggestions for the shop?"
"It's too busy. I can't even get a turn," Draco said with some dissatisfaction. "Why not set up some private rooms for people willing to pay to play?"
Quirrell considered it for a moment. "Good suggestion. Perhaps I'll take your idea into account in the future."
"Also, Quirrell, I'd really like to know who invented the Magic Mobile Phone. If you can open this shop, you must know the answer."
Draco was still preoccupied with getting his own Magic Mobile Phone. He very much wanted to persuade his father to take part in this great undertaking, one that was certain to shake the world.
"It was Director Lorne."
Quirrell made no attempt to hide it. He had once asked Lorne whether he should keep his identity secret. After all, why had Lorne not become the shop manager himself, instead putting Quirrell forward to appear in public?
But Lorne had not cared at all. He said he had made Quirrell the manager purely because he still had to serve other people at Hogwarts. There was no need to publicize his identity, but if someone actually asked, there was no need to hide it either.
After all, he still needed to find some partners.
Draco's face turned ashen. At that moment, he wished Director Lorne's parents were wizards even more than the director himself did.
"Your wait is over, Draco. Enjoy your Magic Mobile Phone," Quirrell reminded him.
Draco nodded and sat down on a tall stool as well. However, he was not tall enough to block anyone else's view. Some adult wizards leaning against the table could see the screen of his Magic Mobile Phone perfectly.
Quirrell continued making his rounds. Every few steps, someone greeted him, and he responded to each with a smile.
Being a shop manager really was quite nice.
In truth, he was already satisfied simply to have escaped Voldemort alive. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, he would have had no complaints or regrets. Yet Dumbledore had actually secured his protection before the Ministry of Magic. Fortunately, thanks to Lorne's warning back then, he had never actually done anything bad.
It could be said that the fact he could still live in the sunlight and greet others with a smile was all thanks to Lorne.
Lorne had even given him a livelihood. Though he had repeatedly said he did not need wages, Lorne had insisted on paying him anyway.
"You're not my house-elf. This is an employment relationship, not one between master and servant. If you're unhappy, you can submit a request at any time."
"Oh, right, you graduated from Ravenclaw, didn't you? I actually have something that's very well suited to you. You'll definitely accept."