Chapter 55: Machionni's Magic Workshop
Machionni was a man obsessed with wealth—his greed was never hidden, always worn on his sleeve with brazen honesty. As soon as the Covenant was signed, he pushed for immediate next steps, unwilling to waste even a second of potential profit. This time, Professor Mor assigned Steven Mor to entertain the guests, while he himself accompanied Wade to Machionni’s Magic Workshop.
“Best to have the first batch on shelves before term starts,” Machionni declared with fiery enthusiasm. “Students and their parents will empty their pockets to buy our products. We can offer different packaging, varying quantities, distinct quality tiers. Even a little pattern on a Parchment sheet, a sprinkle of Gold Powder—pure-blood nobles will pay triple for it. Oh, and I must rush to produce a batch of posters! I’ll have them up on Diagon Alley by tomorrow morning!”
Wade couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Will there be time?”
“Of course!” Machionni winked. “My dear, beloved Wade—magic has no limits!”
Wade had expected some kind of miraculous Spell to accelerate production. But upon arriving at the workshop and using Floopowder, he realized the truth: it was simply money at work.
The main hall was vast, its center dominated by a flowing miniature waterfall. Above the water, the words Aslan Magical Workshop shimmered in golden light. The arched ceiling was painted with vivid murals of Fantastic Beasts—some even moved slowly, as if alive. Around the perimeter, burning Fireplaces flickered with emerald flames, and wizards kept stepping out of them in quick succession.
“Why the sudden overtime during Christmas Holiday?” a young man grumbled, clearly unaware his boss was nearby. “I had plans to travel to Italy!”
“Apparently there’s urgent production needed,” another witch chimed in, grinning. “Overtime Pay is triple the usual!”
The young man instantly calmed down. “Oh, well… that’s not bad then.”
“Move it—step aside—please!” A goblin bellowed, struggling to push a box that towered like a mountain. His progress was slow, hindered by the crowded hall, making him look furious.
The sudden surge in workload had thrown everything into chaos. A few House-elves darted through the crowd, zipping back and forth between people, carrying bundles and parcels. Above, swarms of colorful Paper Airplanes circled the ceiling, swooping down at random, like tiny, mischievous spies.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” A wizard suddenly yelped as a Paper Airplane pierced his hat. He yanked it off, unfolded it, and stared in horror. “What—how did I not notice the Scalescale Fish Oil is nearly gone? I specifically said we needed a stock check before the break! If anything’s missing, it’s someone’s negligence—I’ll find out who!”
He bolted through the crowd, nearly knocking over the goblin, who dropped his box in rage and cursed loudly.
Wade was stunned.
From the current state of the workshop, it was clear Machionni had ordered overtime immediately after seeing the Book of Friends’ potential—right when everyone was still clinging to hope and negotiating with Professor Mor. But Machionni, ever the strategist, had already mapped out the next steps in his mind.
“Sorry, this place is a mess today—it’s never like this normally,” Machionni said, leading Wade and Professor Mor through the throng. “Come with me—this way.”
They stepped into a private Elevator, and Machionni exhaled, loosening his collar as he pressed the button labeled Sixth Floor – Technical Department.
“You’ve got seven floors now?” Professor Mor squinted at the row of Elevator buttons. “I could’ve sworn it was only five last time.”
“Indeed,” Machionni said proudly. “We’ve grown steadily over the years. The Magical Radio overhaul was the biggest project—thanks to your generous licensing, Professor.”
“Few wizards are open to embracing new things—especially transforming Muggle devices,” he continued. “Most still see Muggles as clumsy, inferior creatures. Utterly foolish.”
“When I first arrived at school,” Machionni mused, “I saw that Crimson Train thundering across the Scottish Highlands like a beast reborn. I was awestruck—by the wisdom and power of Muggle innovation. After graduation, I even considered enrolling in a Muggle university to study Books… but in the end, I had to give up. Various reasons.”
“—Various reasons?” Professor Mor shot back, sharp as a dagger. “You mean, because you couldn’t understand a single word?”
“Hahaha—Professor, please! Don’t be so blunt in front of the child!” Wade suddenly realized: though Professor Mor often mocked Machionni, their relationship was far deeper than the surface suggested. In private, there was a quiet, unspoken understanding between them.
Wade said nothing. He simply watched the posters on the Elevator walls, listening in silence.
On the sixth floor, the Technical Department housed two goblins and half a dozen wizards, all already gathered at their workstations, tools ready. Unlike a Muggle office, the room was alive with moving magical objects, glowing in hues of blue, green, and violet. Faint, constant hums and chimes filled the air, punctuated by soft clinks and whispers.
Professor Mor and Machionni settled at an empty table to sip tea, leaving Wade to discuss the project with the team.
Wade began by demonstrating the full process of crafting the Book of Friends. For the time-consuming potion mixtures, he brought pre-made batches. The experts watched once, and within moments, they grasped the core workflow. Then, step by step, they broke it down—until even 80% of the procedures were simple enough for a Hogwarts third-year student to handle.
Others started calculating ways to cut costs, experimenting with material combinations. Within half an hour, the production process for the first batch was finalized. The entire workshop had officially entered high-speed operation.
Throughout this time, Machionni remained mostly quiet, chatting occasionally with Professor Mor—yet all the while, his eyes never left Wade.
The boy was still short, barely taller than the average student. After finishing his demonstration, he spoke little. But every time he did, it was precise, insightful, directly to the point. Several technicians attempted to tweak his Magical Script Circuit—before even touching it, Wade predicted the consequences: reduced stability, or signal delay, even data loss.
He was always right.
Machionni silently rolled his tongue. Now he understood why Professor Mor had always dismissed his own level of skill—despite having scored an E (Good) on the Ultimate Wizard Registration Exam.
Look at this child. Not only did he possess genius-level creativity and relentless dedication, but he also carried the rare, hard-won discipline of a true experimenter—someone who’d tested, failed, adjusted, and perfected hundreds of times until every variable was second nature.
No wonder even Professor Mor—so esteemed, so respected—was willing to set aside pride, to step into the arena and fight for this boy’s future.
Genius was common. Too common. Many such minds faded into obscurity—some even spiraled into Azkaban Enrichment, their brilliance twisted by arrogance.
But Wade… if he survived the journey, his success was guaranteed. His light was already visible.
How could one win such a mind over?
Machionni adjusted his strategy once more—this time, the third revision in less than a minute.
Eleven years old… really? Could this boy truly be only eleven? It made Machionni feel like he’d spent thirty years crawling through the mud of a Flobberworm’s lair.
Could it be…?
Suddenly, Machionni leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “Professor—Professor Mor—tell me the truth. Is this boy actually your illegitimate son?”
Wade, mid-sentence in a discussion about lead powder ratios, froze. He turned—only to see Machionni sprawled on the floor, rolling in mock agony.
Professor Mor smiled calmly, gesturing that all was well.
—Though there was something unnervingly sharp in that smile.
Wade blinked, utterly bewildered.
(End of Chapter)
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