The Spring of Hope, the Winter of Despair
There goes Willy Wagstaff again. Since this "war" started he's felt entitled to bother the rest of us. Daily announcement of murders and other "mysterious happenings" he says. If he made his announcements quietly, via owl perhaps, to people who actually cared, I wouldn't want to jinx him quite so much. But there he goes, banging on his cauldron (probably all he has left after the Ministry finished with him) shouting names and dates like any of us give a fig, and scaring off customers to boot.
And today of all days, I ask you! It ain't exactly the best time, Willy. With my dear Fortescue long gone and even Ollivander missing, all I can mourn are my poor lost Galleons. And what luck, I'm introducing a new line of robes today, it's been planned for years. But who, and I ask you, will buy them? Strangers in masks? I know what I'll just do, I'll write to that Scrimgeour fellow about dealing with the sort of element that has lately been infesting our poor innocent Alley. He's meant to be the rough sort, ain't he?
I don't understand it! Maybe those of us who aren't, oh well, tops at curses and curse words aren't important these days, my, but I've a living to make, and I'll make it yet! Who's Rufus Scrimgeour without his robes, I ask you? A great nobody, I say. Everyone needs robes. I've made robes these forty-three years in London and I've never yet posted a loss. Not until this awful business with Dumbledore and that What's-His-Name. I've half a mind to start cursing people myself if business don't improve.
Merlin's beard, Willy, put a lid on it! Those of us who've actually got something to lose aren't interested in your politics or your stories or your silly loose-bottomed cauldron. Maybe if I offer a discount on the robes and post an item in Witch Weekly I can make up the deficit. I would do it too, nobody can call this shop proud. We've served the great and small alike. Why, even last year we had the Malfoys in for a look, and some Muggleborns as well.
Oh, but what's the use, I ask? Willy will bang his cauldron and Wizards will wear rags forevermore, that's all. I think my cousin Morris still needs help around the place... The shop is done for, I know it, just like everyone else knows, or else they'd be here buying up my brand new inventory wouldn't they. Nothing I can do. Except maybe give Willy what's coming to him...
Oh! Oh! Here's patrons, patrons! They look a common sort but their sickles spend. I'll let Willy go for now, he ain't hurting anything. Oh, the poor dear, he's loosed his bottom. Well never mind, we've business! How's my hair? My robes? I smell a sale, I do.
“Hello my dearies, hello! Welcome to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions! We have whatever you need for whenever you need it! Bless you, Willy, clear off!”