Ministry of Magic, The Golden Crucible Editorial Office
The editor-in-chief frowned as he flipped through the stack of manuscripts in front of him. This time, the number of submissions was sufficient—but the quality? Dismal. Not a single paper stood out. Although technically acceptable for publication in The Golden Crucible, as the premier potions journal in all of Europe, "acceptable" simply wasn't good enough. The Golden Crucible demanded excellence.
"Editor-in-chief, the typesetting and printing departments are starting to rush us," came a voice.
The editor-in-chief glanced up at the young intern editor who had joined just this year and snapped with some irritation,"Rush, rush, rush. That's all they ever do—rush. Without a decent paper, what's the point of typesetting? Do they want us to print trash? What's the point of rushing, then?"
"Editor-in-chief, how should I reply to them?"
At that, the editor-in-chief looked at the young man with a weary expression. Ever since his former apprentice had officially gone independent last year, he'd reassigned him to preliminary review work. Some of the older staff in the editorial department had already guessed that the editor-in-chief was grooming the young man as his successor—though the intern himself still seemed unaware.
"Why would I reply when I haven't got the material ready?" he said. "There's still time. Delay it for now.
"Also, I'll write to a few masters personally—ask if they have any unpublished high-quality work lying around. It doesn't matter if it's more academic and less practical, as long as the standard is high. If they do, ask them to send it straight to me. Tell them it's by my personal request."
"Understood. I'll go right—"
Before the intern could finish, the door to the editor-in-chief's office was pushed open.
In rushed last year's new editor—now promoted to editor-in-charge—holding a paper in his hand. He strode forward and placed the manuscript squarely in front of the editor-in-chief.
The editor-in-chief recognized the look on his former apprentice's face instantly.He knew this editor well—he had trained him himself.
The urgency in his actions told him everything: he had found a good paper.
Without saying another word, the editor-in-chief immediately picked it up and began to read.
When the intern editor saw their expressions, he tactfully stepped out and left the office to the two of them.
The editor-in-chief carefully read through the paper in his hands, and gradually, his expression grew more and more excited.
"Good stuff, good stuff! If this paper holds true, it will definitely have a profound impact on the wizarding world. It won't just reduce the cost of materials for Wit-Recovery potions—it'll improve their quality as well! Who wrote this paper?"
The responsible editor looked at him and smiled. "Take a look at the name. I think you'll recognize it."
"I will? Could it be from one of the old masters? Have they finally decided to take a more practical approach? If so, I really must thank them."
Chatting and laughing, the editor-in-chief flipped to the cover page and glanced at the author's name.
Sean Bulstrode...Wait—
Sean Bulstrode?!
The grandson of the Bulstrode family?The one whose parents were both Squibs?The same Sean Bulstrode who, just last year, submitted a paper revising the recipe and brewing method for the Potion last time to shorten its brewing time?
He wrote this?
Yes, yes—This paper even builds upon some of the new potion brewing techniques he proposed in that earlier submission. It seems those methods are more effective than I originally thought. I may have underestimated them.
"Editor-in-chief, what do you think of the paper?"
Looking up at his apprentice, the editor-in-chief finally smiled.
"It's not top-tier in academic theory, but in terms of practical value, it's excellent. It alters the Wit-Recovery potions's formula, cuts down on cost, and boosts effectiveness. It's more than qualified to be the cover article of The Golden Crucible this issue."
"Now I really want to meet this Sean Bulstrode… even though he's only, what, twelve or thirteen?"
" No need to dwell on that. Now go ahead, prep the paper and send it for typesetting."
The finalized paper was prepared quickly, and after one last proofreading, it was sent off to the typesetting department.
Pouring himself a cup of black tea, the editor-in-chief sat down comfortably and savored the rare South African brew.
"Editor-in-chief…"
The intern editor walked into the office, looking rather displeased.
"Editor-in-chief, someone from the typesetting department is objecting to the front-page headline. They claim the paper is unnecessary, saying the current Wit-Recovery potion is already quite effective, and there's no real point in improving it just a little more."
The editor-in-chief, still holding his teacup mid-air, froze. The tea hovered at his lips, but in the end, he didn't take that final sip.
Trying to contain himself for a moment, he failed—and then threw the cup down. It shattered with a sharp crack, and what remained of the tea splashed across the floor.
"These idiots! They've probably had it too easy for too long and have forgotten how to distinguish what truly matters. Since when did the typesetting department get to boss around my editorial team? Tell them this: if they try to interfere again, they can get out."
The intern editor pursed his lips and lowered his voice, "The director of typesetting told me to tell you… he doesn't have much of a choice. Someone from the Ministry of Magic is putting pressure on him. He said he needs to take some kind of stand—for the sake of appearances. But he also said not to be angry, and that he'll follow your instructions."
Upon hearing this, the editor-in-chief's brow furrowed deeply. He had originally assumed the typesetting director might have ties to one of the current Wit-Recovery potions manufacturers. But now it was clear—
It wasn't the manufacturers. It was someone within the Ministry of Magic.
With that, the editor-in-chief pulled out a piece of parchment, quickly scribbled a note, and handed it to the intern editor.
"Take this and deliver it to Mr. Gideon Bulstrode—send it with a snow sculpture owl."
The intern editor immediately nodded and turned to leave with the note.
Just before he stepped out, the editor-in-chief added,
"Also, tell typesetting to proceed as planned. Leave the rest to me."
"Understood!"
The intern editor gave a quick nod and walked out swiftly.
The editor-in-chief glanced at the intern editor as he left, poured himself another cup of black tea, took a slow sip, and muttered to himself,
"If Sean Bulstrode had no one behind him, I'd naturally step in. But since he does have powerful backing, there's no need for me to get involved. Let his grandfather deal with it."
Saying this, the editor-in-chief chuckled and returned to enjoying his tea.
At the same time, Gideon Bulstrode looked over the note delivered by the enchanted snow sculpture. After thinking for a moment, he penned a formal letter and sent it directly to the Wizengamot Academic Committee.
The letter emphasized the importance of academic independence and integrity, and stated in no uncertain terms that interference in research and publication would not be tolerated.
In response, the members of the Wizengamot Academic Committee agreed with the stance and promptly began efforts to tighten oversight and regulation in the field.