Church Wright, a short, chubby man with a friendly smile, introduced himself.
"Hello, my name is Church Wright, and I'm from England."
"Oh, you may not recognize me, but... I work for Blake Green."
His affable personality and eloquence made him the perfect choice for Blake to send on a business negotiation with Mr. Delacour.
Mr. Delacour spoke some English, and upon hearing Blake's name, he immediately understood. The Daily Prophet, under Grindelwald's influence, had widely publicized Blake's accomplishments. The youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, a creator of a life-extending potion—Blake was an impressive young man. However, if only he didn't have such a complicated connection with his daughters, things would be perfect...
Despite the distance, Mr. Delacour had considered buying a bottle of the life-extending potion himself. After leading Wright to the living room, he got straight to the point.
"Are you here to discuss cooperation?" he asked.
Wright's smile widened. The conversation was off to a great start.
"Aha, since you already understand my purpose, you must also know about our life-extending potions. So... do you have any interest in cooperation?"
"The potion has received positive feedback. Honestly, I see no reason to refuse," Mr. Delacour admitted. "But these are just claims. I'd like to see it for myself."
Wright immediately pulled a small vial from his pocket and placed it on the table. "This is a high-quality life-extending potion. Feel free to try it."
Blake's potion shop sold two types: ordinary and high-quality. The ordinary version cost 3 Galleons per bottle, while the high-quality one sold for a staggering 1,500 Galleons. Despite the exorbitant price, no one questioned Blake. The potion's effectiveness spoke for itself, and compared to other magical potions like Felix Felicis, which cost 20 Galleons per bottle, this was a bargain. The potion's materials were expensive, and brewing success rates were low, making each successful batch incredibly valuable.
Mr. Delacour was surprised. Even a small sample of such a costly potion was generous. Without hesitation, he opened the bottle. A strong herbal scent wafted out—a deliberate choice by Blake to maintain consistency. Wright watched eagerly as Mr. Delacour drank.
In mere moments, he felt rejuvenated. His fatigue melted away, and his body felt younger. If such a small dose had this effect, a full bottle's power must be incredible!
Seeing his expression, Wright knew the deal was sealed. Mr. Delacour, still savoring the effects, apologized. "Sorry, Mr. Wright, but this potion is truly remarkable."
"It's an honor that you like it," Wright replied. "So... about our cooperation?"
"Let's discuss the specifics now. If this potion is as potent as it seems, our Delacour family is willing to partner with you."
"Fantastic! Blake is indeed a remarkable young man."
Just as they were about to go over the contract, Gabrielle entered, holding a baby with rosy cheeks.
"Dad, I heard someone talking about Blake? Is he here?" She glanced around, as if expecting him to pop out from behind a pillar.
Mr. Delacour's cheerful mood dimmed. Suddenly, Blake didn't seem quite as wonderful...
Meanwhile, in Borgin and Burkes, Lucius Malfoy stood before the counter, his face strained with frustration.
"Five hundred Galleons in total," Borgin said, peering at the items through gold-rimmed glasses.
Lucius clenched his jaw. "Surely you can offer more?"
"At most, four hundred," Borgin countered. "If not for our long-standing relationship, I wouldn't even offer five."
Lucius seethed. The Ministry had been raiding his estate, forcing him to offload his dark artifacts. Somehow, Borgin had learned of his predicament and slashed his prices accordingly. Thousands of Galleons worth of items, reduced to mere hundreds!
"I won't sell!" Lucius snapped, gathering his items.
Borgin merely shrugged. "As you wish, Lucius. But remember, nowhere else in Britain will take such 'unique' merchandise in bulk. Your only option would be smuggling them abroad."
Just then, Narcissa Malfoy stormed into the shop. Without a word, she seized the items from Lucius, slammed them onto Borgin's counter, and declared, "A thousand Galleons. Otherwise, we'd rather destroy them."
Borgin blinked in surprise. "I... I can do seven hundred at most."
"Deal."
"What?" Lucius sputtered. He had expected more negotiation.
Narcissa shot him a glare. "This isn't about money. It's about moving on. Let the past go, Lucius. Think of Draco."
Lucius clenched his fists but reluctantly accepted the purse of seven hundred Galleons. As they left, he realized Narcissa's determination to leave their dark history behind. Perhaps it was time he did the same.
At the Three Broomsticks, Blake sat across from Professor Kettleburn, who was enjoying a drink, his face flushed with warmth.
"Blake, I'm planning to retire at the end of this semester," Kettleburn announced. "I've already submitted my application to Dumbledore."
Blake listened quietly, sipping his butterbeer.
"I've always loved magical creatures," Kettleburn continued. "But after years of injuries—losing an arm, half a leg—I think it's time. Still, I have no regrets! Love is life, after all."
"But you don't seem like the type to sit around," Blake observed.
"Exactly!" Kettleburn chuckled. "I plan to spend my remaining years in the dragon reserves. Majestic wings, blazing flames... truly marvelous creatures!"
Blake grinned. "What a shame. I was looking forward to your class. But since you've made your decision, I have a gift for you."
Kettleburn laughed. "A set of enchanted prosthetics, perhaps? Dumbledore's already promised me a new set."
Blake shook his head. "Not prosthetics. Something better."
Kettleburn's eyes twinkled with curiosity. "If it's not artificial, then it must be... real?"
Blake simply smiled.
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