From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

The two looked at the documents and shook their heads. "This is outrageous. It turns out there really are places worse than the Ministry of Magic..."

With the chamber of commerce's name decided, the rest was easy.

The two were very familiar with making medals and banners—they had spent countless hours crafting magical props for pranks over the years, but they never imagined that their skills would come in handy for this purpose before graduation…

-

In the Greek magical world, in a barbershop tucked away in a small alleyway of a commercial street, the owner begins to fiddle with his barber tools.

Those self-cleaning tools are a real gem. They'll grab any customer who tries to ask about prices, put them in a chair, and then immediately start giving them a haircut and shave, leaving them very clean.

Of course, such attentive service comes at a high price—a small note on the sign reads five Galleons per person, a very small amount, but certainly not against the Ministry of Magic's regulations.

"Business is tough..."

Boss Kevin glanced at the street—there haven't been many foreign tourists lately, so it's really hard to overcharge them.

But he can't just move to a different place. He's finally gotten to know all the managers in this area, and it's hard to say what will happen if he moves to a different place.

"Boss, boss!"

The apprentice recruited this year rushed over from the back storeroom with a letter in his haste, making him frown – this guy is just impossible to train…

"What's wrong? Is it some damned magical kingdom that's causing problems again, making us have fewer customers?"

"No, boss, we won an award! The Best Smile Award at the European International Barber Shops!"

What is this stuff?

Upon hearing this title, Kevin frowned.

What are you talking about? He hasn't participated in any competitions—and even if he had, he knows his own shop's limitations. Does he deserve it?

"Bring it here, let me see..."

He took the letter with a dark expression—he always felt that it was a colleague mocking him.

The letter was very thick, bulging and I had no idea what was inside.

To Kevin's Hair Salon:

After a year of calamity for the American magical community, we have finally reorganized the Magical Congress, and all residents of the American magical world will never forget the help they received during these difficult days and the warmth that remains in their memories…

In April of this year, under the guidance of the newly appointed Department of Magical Cooperation of the Magical Congress, our International Cooperation Chamber of Commerce was established. In order to quickly restore our country's international magical trade, a nationwide selection event was held to recognize those chambers of commerce and shops that we could not forget even in the most difficult times...

After extensive investigation and research (Kevin blinked, skipping a long digression)...

Please send a representative from your chamber of commerce (shop) with the relevant documentation and 30 Galleons of activity funds to the xx office in xx city, Greece (xx street xx number) to collect the medal and award certificate.

—Office of the International Chamber of Commerce in Greece

"See, I told you so! We've won awards abroad!"

"Win an award my ass!" Kevin cursed. "It's a fucking competitor!"

"Are they barbers too, boss?"

"Bullshit, robbery!"

Kevin, his face flushed, cursed – Thirty Galleons, they'd taken it all from him?

He's been robbing people on this street for half his life, and today someone actually used an owl to steal his money?

This is more than just a test; it's downright provocation!

"Go," he angrily instructed his apprentice, "and find out from the Ministry of Magic whether they can send that disgusting office to jail—they've been lying to me!"

However, a reply arrived thirty minutes later.

"Really?"

Kevin stared at the letter in disbelief. "They presented a genuine registration form to the Ministry of Magic, confirming it's indeed from the Magical Congress of the United States?"

"What are you standing there for? Hurry up, grab the Galon and go claim your prize!"

He kicked his apprentice lightly. "Now that I've received this beautiful medal and hung it by the door, I can be more confident in collecting these five Galleons from now on!"

After thinking it over, Kevin worried that the apprentice wouldn't be able to handle things properly, so he decided to leave him to watch the shop and collect the money while he hurriedly headed towards the street with the money, afraid that he would miss out on the medal if he was a step too late.

Although I don't know what's wrong with the Americans, they might as well take this award.

But even though he rushed as fast as he could, he was still a bit late. When he arrived, there were quite a few people queuing up at the so-called office.

They were all old acquaintances, which made him particularly unhappy.

The one in front, the one who sells medicinal herbs, shortchanges customers.

The one further ahead, the tavern sells water mixed with alcohol.

The one further ahead, claiming to be selling banned books, has titles that are all borderline on the forbidden, and it's full of Muggles from who-knows-where, without even illustrations. It's been reported multiple times by infuriated people but still can't get in. It's a real black-hearted and unscrupulous merchant.

And the one in the middle, charging for two menus, that's practically robbery.

'Damn it, how did I end up with these people? Is the ministry planning to wipe them all out?'

Kevin's calves felt a little tight; he was very worried that something had happened, but someone at the front was already carrying out a gleaming gold medal.

'The craftsmanship and design are exquisite!'

He exclaimed in admiration, "It's truly excellent craftsmanship."

The person was just awful—he recognized the smug guy; he was a bastard, the worst of the worst, a guy who deserved to be cursed to death.

That guy's name is Old Sibby, a barber who runs a street not far away.

'Best craftsman? He doesn't deserve that title! All his tools are knockoffs of mine!'

Kevin really wanted to hit someone, but he held back in the end—forget it, let's get our own stuff first.

-

"Hello, I'm Lucy, the receptionist at the business. This is my ID badge."

When Kevin went in, he was shocked—wait, is this organization really that legitimate?

She was a particularly beautiful girl, and her metal identification tag looked exceptionally professional (inspired by the identification tags in the Ministry of Magic's telephone booths, something the twins had grown tired of playing with).

His fluent English almost overwhelmed him, but fortunately a translator followed him, which made the chamber of commerce look more professional.

'The offices inside are a bit basic... but there's nothing we can do, it's just a temporary office...'

He made up an excuse for it, then looked at the middle-aged man in charge of the matter who looked quite serious.

"Hello, I'm Kevin, the owner of Kevin's Hair Salon. And you are..."

"I am Sim, the person in charge of this trip to Greece."

Speaking fluent English, and clearly an American, the middle-aged man shook hands with him and briefly explained the reasons for the award ceremony and the purpose of the event.

"We feel obligated to let everyone in the magical world know what the ray of sunshine in our hearts is during difficult times. Mr. Kevin, although your shop's business methods are not entirely well-received, many people still write to us saying how beautiful the hairstyle is and how invigorating it is..."

'So that's how it is...'

Kevin himself was starting to believe it—making money was one thing, but having his skills recognized was something else entirely…

He happily paid the fee with Miss Lucy and then received his medal and certificate.

"how…"

He stared blankly at the medal in his hand—why is it so small? Is my award really not as good as that guy's?

"What's wrong, Mr. Kevin?"

"This medal..."

“That’s the basic medal, Mr. Kevin. If you’re willing to pay more for materials and production costs, we can provide a deluxe version…”

Kevin looked at Mr. Sim and laughed, a hint of dazedness appearing in his eyes.

But the previous large, deluxe version of the medal…

"How many?"

"Seventy Galleons are needed."

...

"Hang it up for me!"

A new, enchanted gold medal was hung in the store, and Kevin looked at it with a broad smile.

Just hang this one thing up, and it becomes an internationally renowned store!

Moreover, not everyone gets this award; he found out he was the only one on this street to receive it! What's that called? That's an honor!

"It's just...those Americans are too shrewd..."

He sighed and went back to polishing his tools for making money. For some reason, looking back now, he always felt like he had been robbed.

-

"Deducting the cost of the translation..."

"Deducting the cost of the venue we rented..."

"Further deducting the costs associated with our event..."

"And then there's the cost of using compound decoctions..."

"There are 1,500 Galleons left!"

Fred did the calculations quickly, and a look of delight appeared on his face.

"We also have to pay the fees we borrowed from Mr. Karkaroff and the fees he paid to smooth things over—so when you add it all up, we only made a hundred gallons."

"Wait, you also have to deduct compensation for the emotional distress caused by dressing up as a receptionist..."

"Expenditure of seven Galleons... then..."

Seven Galleons? You're kidding, brother!

"Never mind, let's go to a few more countries first. Our goal isn't to make money, but to play pranks. Next time, I'll be the host..."

"That's more like it..."

What should we do with the extra Galonnaise we have?

"We'll use part of the money to open the shop, repay part of Mr. Black's investment, and use the rest to buy supplies and donate them to the general public in the American wizarding world..."