July has arrived.
On an ordinary morning, Morris went to the living room as usual and picked up the day's Daily Prophet from the table.
He scrolled to the very end before finding what he wanted to see—the article about " Phantom " that Rita Skeeter had promised to write for him.
Morris flipped through the pages with great interest.
It must be said that this article is very much in Rita Skeeter's style, filled with exaggerated praise throughout, to the point that Morris thought he had not built a flying broom, but a spaceship.
His broom was described in the article as "a groundbreaking invention worthy of being recorded in history."
"A clever little trick." Morris shook his head.
He saw through Rita's trick.
If his broom doesn't meet the reader's expectations, the report will backfire.
This is known as "praise to death".
But fortunately, his broom really stood the test.
As long as you can attract people, you won't have to worry about selling them.
Come to think of it, so many days have passed, and I wonder how things are going with Mrs Lawson, and whether her first batch of brooms has sold out.
Just then, Yanhua flew in through the entrance, carrying a letter in its beak.
Another letter has arrived.
Morris stood up and took it from the other person's mouth.
It was indeed sent by Mrs Lawson —judging by the time, we should have heard something by now.
He opened the envelope; inside was a neatly folded letter.
The message was simple: he hoped I could go to the Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley this afternoon; I had some good news to tell him.
Good news?
It must be about brooms.
What could be more delightful than a Winky Galleon?
Morris hummed a song as he folded the letter and casually placed it on the table.
In the afternoon, Morris appeared at the Quality Quidditch Supplies carrying a suitcase.
The young shop assistant saw him through the window last time, immediately pushed open the door and came out, her smile brighter than the July sun.
" Black!" he shouted from afar, " The Phantom Mark One is awesome!"
Morris nodded. "Thank you. And Mrs Lawson?"
"It's inside." The shop assistant stepped aside.
Morris went into the store.
A sidelong glance at the shop window revealed that the golden display spot that once belonged to the Firebolt had been replaced by his broom, but it seemed to be just a model, not the real thing.
Inside the store, Mrs Lawson seemed to be in a good mood, tidying up the shelves—the owner here also participates in these routine store maintenance tasks.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up and smiled.
"Ah, Black, it seems you received the letter. I just made some tea."
Morris walked to the counter, placed his suitcase on it, and asked, "How's it going?"
He was naturally referring to his flying broom.
Mrs Lawson went behind the counter, took out two cups, and poured steaming hot black tea into them. "The first batch of brooms is completely sold out. Most customers paid on the spot after the test flight. We also received orders from two local sports teams this morning."
Morris nodded. "I can't supply that many. Twenty at most per week."
Sales were much better than he had imagined.
Although he could make more if he gritted his teeth, he didn't want to spend all his time on this.
His initial purpose in making brooms was to earn money, but now he earns enough to cover his daily expenses.
These brooms are not cheap; they cost more than Firebolt, yet their production cost is negligible.
This leads to incredibly high profits.
Mrs Lawson tentatively asked, "Is there really no way to increase production?"
Just as Morris was about to answer, a loud voice suddenly came from the doorway.
" Mrs Lawson, are you there?"
A robust man in a yellow robe strode in.
" Mr. Bagman?" Mrs Lawson was somewhat surprised, putting down her teacup. "What brings you here? I thought you'd been busy with the Quidditch World Cup."
Morris recognized the person as well.
Ludo Bagman, Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, will be a commentator for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.
There had been several related reports in the newspapers recently, so he was familiar with the face.
"That's right, I'm so busy I barely have time to breathe." Ludo laughed as he walked to the counter, attracting the attention of many customers.
But he wasn't bothered. Leaning against the counter, he asked, " Mrs Lawson, how's the collaboration I mentioned before? Have you made up your mind?"
Mrs Lawson glanced at Morris and introduced him, "This is Ludo Bagman, Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Morris nodded in greeting, "I know, hello."
Ludo, of course, didn't know him, so Mrs Lawson added, " Mr. Black is the broom designer."
"A broom?" Ludo paused for a moment, then exclaimed, "Could it be Phantom...?"
"That's right," Mrs Lawson said.
Ludo's gaze fell on Morris, scrutinizing him from head to toe with a somewhat subtle expression.
"Probably because of age," Morris thought.
Sure enough, Ludo spoke quickly, his tone carrying an undisguised surprise, " Mr. Black, you're much younger than I imagined."
Morris smiled.
Ludo quickly looked away and turned to Mrs Lawson, his tone becoming warmer, "Let's get back to the original topic, Mrs Lawson. What have you thought about our previous proposal?"
Mrs Lawson replied without hesitation, "I've refused many times, Bagman. I will not participate in the betting you've set up."
Opening a gambling den?
Morris couldn't help but wonder, did the Ministry of Magic really allow their people to do this?
But it's none of his business; he's not interested in gambling.
Ludo sighed regretfully, but quickly regained his cheerful expression.
If you change your mind, feel free to contact me anytime.
"I will, Bagman," Mrs Lawson said. "You're not here today just for this, are you?"
"Oh, of course not," Ludo said. "I also want to try out the new broom and see if it can really outperform the Firebolt."
After he finished speaking, he winked at Morris.
Mrs Lawson shrugged. "You've come at a bad time. The last bunch was just sold yesterday afternoon."
Sold out? Not a single one left?
"There aren't any left." Mrs Lawson pointed to the model in the window. "That's all that's left. Would you like to try it?"
Ludo's lips twitched. "Forget it."
"It's alright, I brought a new batch of goods."
At this point, Morris interjected, patting the suitcase on the counter.
Morris thought Ludo Bagman was a very pragmatic man.
At first, the other party probably thought his broom was just an exaggerated product, but after personally test-flying it, their attitude changed completely.
Enthusiasm levels soared.
After leaving the testing ground, he kept his arm around Morris's shoulder, his enthusiasm like that of a long-lost brother.
"Kid, you know what? I've ridden a broomstick for decades, and I've never felt anything like this before—it's so fast! I bet you'll be famous in no time. By the way, want to join my bet?"
"Uh, no need."
Why did the conversation veer towards gambling?
Finally, as Morris was leaving, Ludo insisted on giving him a ticket to the Quidditch World Cup.