5:30 PM
The group had left the Ministry, each heading home. Old Wil mentioned he had business to discuss with Rosmerta and joined Melvin in returning to Hogsmeade.
Stepping out of the fireplace at The Three Broomsticks, they found the pub bustling, with Rosmerta occupied upstairs. Wil didn't disturb her, instead turning to Melvin. "Professor Levent, how about a drink before you head back to school?"
"Sounds good," Melvin replied, glancing at the aging wizard with a smile. "Try the mead, Wil. It's a specialty here."
Wil chuckled, ordering two meads from the waiter and choosing a quiet table by the wall. Nearby, a group of middle-aged wizards, flushed from whiskey, complained loudly about the lack of upstairs seating. Their voices carried across the pub.
"My cousin works at the Ministry—inside scoop!" one bellowed. "Soon, you'll be able to watch the Shadow Mirror from home!"
Another scoffed, "That's no scoop! It's all over the papers!"
Melvin and Wil didn't mind the noise. A pub's charm lay in its clamor. Melvin listened with a grin, waiting for the uproar to subside before taking a sip of mead. "Home Shadow Mirrors are different from pub ones," he said softly. "Two smaller models, designed to fit in regular homes. People will soon realize watching at home versus in a pub is a completely different experience."
Wil nodded, half-understanding.
Melvin paused, then continued, "More importantly, the content will differ. You should visit a Muggle city sometime, check out their televisions and cinemas."
Wil sipped his mead, listening attentively.
"I know many of you are pure-bloods, but you're not rigid traditionalists. You're open to new things," Melvin said. "Alfie's already doing it. You should too."
Wil gave a slight nod, then shifted topics. "How should we price them?"
"Cover costs, make a profit, but keep it affordable for most wizarding families. Talk to Wright for specifics—he's got sales experience from Romania." Melvin paused, thinking. "No need for a universal price. Tom's Leaky Cauldron and your Oak Barrel cater to regular families, so price them normally. But White Inkwell's clientele are wealthier—they love expensive things. Charge more there. Have Wright tweak some models for the pure-bloods' vanity—silver casings, gold gilding. They'll pay. For a few thousand Galleons extra, add a feature to display their family crest when the Mirror's idle."
Wil's weathered face broke into a grin at the young professor's ideas.
---
The Floo Network upgrade progressed smoothly. Wright completed the work in two days, flawlessly, with successful tests. He wasn't surprised—his experience in Romania, thorough preparation, and Ministry staff support ensured success.
In the Department of Magical Transportation's break room, chatting with Silent colleagues and Arthur Weasley, Wright shared his experiences. They were only interested in Nicolas Flamel's alchemical teachings or Shadow Mirror development, not his past struggles—being pushed out of the Ministry and running a repair shop on Charing Cross Road. Wright mentioned it briefly, not dwelling.
On his third cup of tea, Ludo Bagman burst in, his blue eyes lighting up at the sight of Wright. His chubby face split into a beaming smile. "Wright, old mate!" He plopped onto the sofa, panting as he poured himself a cup. "That familiar taste, eh? Ceylon blended with Assam—only Ministry afternoon tea hits like this. Pure tea bliss."
Everyone watched his performance.
"The whole upgrade was seamless, done in two days!" Bagman gushed. "I was ready to lend Sports Department staff if you needed help. Shame I missed out."
"You're as enthusiastic as ever, Ludo," Wright said with a smile.
"Always am, for everyone!" Bagman waved it off. "Kindness and enthusiasm pay off, especially with good folks like you, right?"
Wright played along. "Anything I can help with?"
Bagman's eyes gleamed, his tone eager. "Wright, my dear Wright, I know Professor Levent runs the Mirror Club, but you're the Shadow Mirror's creator. About those sales channels…"
The room caught his drift. After failing to sway Levent yesterday, he was trying Wright today.
Wright shook his head. "Sorry, Ludo, I fully respect Professor Levent's decisions."
Bagman's enthusiasm dimmed, but he covered it with a gulp of tea. "No worries, just asking."
"The Mirror business is off-limits, but…" Wright paused, "I've got other ways to make money."
Bagman's head snapped up, expectant.
"You were a Quidditch player, now head of the Sports Department. You're in constant contact with clubs and regional teams, right?"
Bagman clutched his cup, puzzled. "True, but what's that got to do with money?"
"If you can get exclusive match footage, sell it to the Mirror Club. The better the footage, the higher the price. National team-level matches? We'll pay handsomely."
Bagman lunged, hugging Wright and thumping his shoulder. "Wright, you're my lucky star!" Not foolish despite his eagerness, Bagman stayed to chat rather than rushing off. He wasn't technical, so the conversation turned to the Monkstanley family's Ministry contributions and Wright's old days there, inevitably mentioning Umbridge, now Senior Undersecretary, who'd forced him out.
"Get this!" Bagman chuckled. "Fudge and Umbridge are hiding on the first floor, avoiding you and Levent. This Floo Network fiasco's made them a laughingstock."
Wright sipped his tea, a faint smile on his face, showing neither joy nor sorrow. Back in his Ministry days, he'd dodged Umbridge, always wary of her schemes. Now, returning in a new role, it was Umbridge avoiding him, too embarrassed to show her face.
They talked until evening. Leaving, Bagman practically bounced, brimming with excitement. Wright joined them through the Atrium fireplace, not to his home but to The Three Broomsticks, where he ordered a half-dozen meads, filling a tray.
Seated alone in a corner, he savored the drinks quietly. As night fell and he finished, he stood to leave, only to find Melvin sitting across from him, unnoticed until now.
"Melvin," Wright said, settling back down.
"Buying supplies for the new term, just passing through," Melvin said, his smile gentle. "Saw you sulking in the corner with your drinks. Feeling a bit lonely?"
Wright shook his head. "Nothing worth reminiscing about. I prefer my life now."
"Hope you still feel that way when the Shadow Mirror launches. Orders will pile up on you."
"I've got stock prepared," Wright said, a hint of resentment in his tone. "Wasn't supposed to be too busy, but then you gave Wil that awful idea."
"Extorting pure-bloods? A bit of hard work's worth it."
"Easy for you to say—you're not the one slaving away."
Melvin ordered another half-dozen meads and fish and chips. "Look on the bright side. How much will you make?"
"Enough to fill a vault, probably."
They shared a grin, clinking glasses, the sound of Galleons jingling in their minds.
Putting the Mirror business aside, Melvin griped about school duties—Dumbledore hogging his post, McGonagall overworking staff, and missing dinner due to errands, stuck eating pub food. Wright, unfamiliar with teaching, recalled his Ministry days chasing alchemical secrets, indifferent to office politics until Umbridge forced him out. Returning now, with directors fawning and colleagues praising him, and knowing pure-bloods would soon pay for his trinkets, he felt a decade of frustration melt away.
He owed Borgin for introducing him to Melvin.
---
From January 15 to 22, Bagman spent a week tirelessly visiting team managers. Unlike pub owners or insiders like Alfie and Jack, who dealt in official match footage, Bagman sought underground matches—not illegal, just informal. These included impromptu training bouts, post-match revenge games, mixed-player fun matches, or quirky contests sparked by a club owner's whim. Compared to standard games, these were more thrilling, revenge matches fiercer, and overall more engaging.
On the last Friday of January 1993, the final weekend before Hogwarts' term began and the eve of the Shadow Mirror's launch, Bagman booked a private room at The Three Broomsticks, ordering a pricey ten-year-old red wine to meet the Mirror Club's head, Professor Levent.
The waiter set out food and glasses, uncorking the wine with flourish. Melvin watched, amused. Wizards had adopted Muggle royal pomp for opening wine—something a wand flick could do—making it needlessly elaborate.
"Professor Levent, good to see you again!" Bagman beamed.
"Good evening, Mr. Bagman."
Bagman's smile widened at Melvin's offer for match footage, his grin stretching ear to ear. Wright had said it'd be profitable, but this was beyond expectations! Though he'd been hustling to clear gambling debts, Bagman hadn't dreamed of such a windfall.
Still, he wasn't brainless. Despite poor school grades, he'd analyzed the Mirror Club's model. Pubs profited from drinks sold during screenings, but home broadcasts wouldn't drive sales. Could such high prices really turn a profit? No matter—it wasn't his problem.
Downing his wine, Bagman's head buzzed. "Professor, thank you for your generosity! Any Quidditch matters, I'm your man!"
"I'll hold you to that," Melvin said, sipping the odd-tasting wine—mead was better—and setting it down. "If I recall, the next Quidditch World Cup is next year, in Devon, right?"
Bagman froze. His offer was just courtesy—did this professor really have a job for him? Cooling off, he said, "The World Cup's a global event, run by a dedicated committee. Our Sports Department just assists. I might not be much help."
"Not for me—for the fans," Melvin clarified.
"Huh?"
"Only a minority can attend the finals in person. Most fans are stuck with radio commentary. Don't they deserve better?"
Bagman wanted to point out that 100,000 wizards attending wasn't exactly a "minority," and radio fans weren't his concern. But, fresh off a lucrative deal, he couldn't rebuff his benefactor. After a pause, he asked hesitantly, "What do you mean?"
Melvin smiled softly. "I'd like you to contact the committee to let the Mirror Club broadcast next year's World Cup."
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