Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 374 The New Minister of Magic
On the morning of March 23, Harry was having breakfast in the Great Hall as usual.

However, just as he was chewing his sandwich, suddenly, owls fluttered in from outside the auditorium in large numbers.

Hedwig launched a dive bombardment, a classic Stuka dive, and tossed the parcel onto Harry's plate, scattering the baked beans in tomato sauce everywhere.

Neville was unlucky; he got a bean stuck in each of his eyes.

"Why is it always me?" he said sadly, putting down his fork.

“Maybe it’s because I’m worse off.” Harry took off his glasses, which were covered in red tomato juice.

After cleaning the table and tidying himself up, he opened the package.

Inside was a copy of the Daily Prophet.

When he opened it, he saw Sirius Black's handsome face.

The front page of The Daily Prophet featured a picture of Sirius Black.

The Godfather in the photo is dressed in a suit, his beard is neatly combed, and his hairstyle is equally meticulous.

Percy followed behind him, also dressed in a formal suit.

Below is a large character.

"Sirius Black has been successfully elected Minister of Magic of the United Kingdom. The Muggle Prime Minister has sent a congratulatory telegram, and the Ministries of Magic of seventeen other countries have also sent congratulatory telegrams."

Below that was a line of smaller print.

"Former Minister of Magic Fudge has been impeached and removed from office. He is facing 27 charges, and Wizengamot is preparing to try him."

"Harry!"

Hermione ran over from the side, followed by Ron.

"Harry!" she gasped, waving a newspaper in her hand. "Did you see that? Sirius Black has been elected Minister for Magic!"

“I saw it.” Harry picked up the Daily Prophet and said with a smile, “Looks like good news really is coming one after another, isn’t it?”

“I received Percy’s letter last night,” Ron said with a grin. “But Percy said Sirius instructed me to keep it a secret and not tell you about it. He’s planning to give you a surprise this morning.”

“It was indeed a surprise.” Harry genuinely didn’t know about it, and he was genuinely happy for his godfather.

Just think about it, only two years ago, the Godfather was a prisoner of Azkaban.

Now, he has risen to the position of Minister of Magic.

“Did you see that?” Draco said from the Slytherin long bench. “My uncle—Sirius Black—has become Minister for Magic, ha ha…”

Ron pursed his lips.

“He is indeed his uncle,” Hermione said helplessly. “After all, his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, is Sirius’s cousin.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

This guy, really...

“Oh, right,” Hermione said again, “Dumbledore is back, and he asked me to tell you to go to the Headmaster’s office.”

“Really?” Harry chewed his sandwich calmly, and after finishing, he stood up and said, “I’ll go check. God knows what he’s been up to, disappearing for so long…”

"Where's the password?" Harry asked, turning back halfway down the road.

"Uh—" Hermione drawled, having arrived in a hurry and forgotten the password for the headmaster's office.

“It’s alright,” Harry waved his hand and said, “I don’t think the statue at the door will make things difficult for me.”

Indeed, the gargoyle didn't give Harry any trouble at all. It didn't even ask Harry for the password before jumping aside and making way for him.

Harry went up the stairs and into the headmaster's office.

The principal's office was still decorated the same way, with some exquisite silverware standing on a long-legged table, quietly emitting smoke and spinning.

The portraits of the male and female principals are dozing off in the photos; some are lazily resting their heads on armchairs, while others are leaning against the frame of the portraits.

Harry noticed that the curtains were not drawn, and it seemed that the headmasters did not know the time.

The office was quiet, everything was still, and only the occasional snore or sniffle from a sleeping portrait broke the silence.

"Harry?"

A familiar voice rang out, and Harry turned to see Phineas.

“What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Phineas said. “No one except the legitimate headmaster is allowed in this office—did Dumbledore send you?”

“You know Phineas,” Harry said with a smile, “the gargoyle at the door won’t give me any trouble. I can get into the headmaster’s office without a password.”

“Well, you’ve never been one for manners, and you’re a true Gryffindor.” Phineas said this without anger, but with a smile: “But you’re also my most outstanding student, aren’t you?”

“Thank you for your compliment, Headmaster Black,” Harry bowed.

“Oh, right,” he said again, “there’s a little thing about my godfather that I’d like to share with you.”

"What is it?" Phineas sat up straight. "What has happened to my most distinguished great-grandson lately?"

“Oh, as I said, it’s nothing serious.” Harry shrugged. “Fudge—that is, the former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge—has stepped down, and the new Minister of Magic was elected last night—none other than Sirius Black, my dear godfather.”

“Oh, that?” Phineas yawned, then jumped up, almost leaning out of the portrait. “What did you say? My most outstanding great-great-grandson is now the Minister of Magic?!”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“You call this a trivial matter?!” Phineas asked excitedly, pacing back and forth in the portrait. “Oh my, my dear great-great-grandson has become Minister of Magic! This is truly a joyous occasion—you know what? Since me, the Black family hasn’t produced any outstanding figures, but now we finally have one… Ha! My great-great-grandson is Minister of Magic!”

His voice was so loud that it woke up all the portraits of the principals.

"What are you yelling about so early in the morning?" Principal Delis de Winter was clearly grumpy. She glared angrily at Phineas. If looks could kill, Phineas's portrait would probably be riddled with holes by now.

“Ha, Delis!” Phineas said happily, “How did you know my great-grandson became Minister of Magic?”

There was a clear moment of surprise on Delis's face.

No, did I just ask him that question?
“I know you want to congratulate me,” Phineas said smugly, “but it’s nothing to celebrate. My great-grandson has simply returned to the position he’s rightfully in…”

Principal Derwent's fist hardened. She roared and lunged at Phineas, along with the other portraits.

Soon after, Phineas was tied to a chair.

Just then, Dumbledore walked in from outside.

"It looks really lively, doesn't it?" Dumbledore chuckled, stroking his beard as he watched Phineas being bound with great interest.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry turned around.

"Good morning, Harry." Dumbledore extended his hand and gestured to Harry.

Harry greeted him in return, saying, "Good morning, Professor Dumbledore—where have you been all these days? Or rather, for the past six months…"

"Oh, there's something," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "But it's nothing serious. I'm tracking down Voldemort."

“And then?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore didn't speak, but instead pulled out a snake.

“This snake,” Dumbledore said, placing the snake on the ground with a somewhat dazed look in his eyes, “I feel like I’m familiar with it… well, it’s like I know it, but… Voldemort has turned it into a Horcrux.”

Harry nodded and said, "Since the professor thinks it's familiar, we should try to extract Voldemort's soul fragment without harming it, instead of brutally killing it."

Upon hearing Harry's words, the large snake hissed at him.

It's breathing on it.

Without thinking, Harry took out his wand and hit the snake on the head.

"Don't breathe on me!" he hissed in a snake-like voice.

The giant snake was clearly taken aback.

"Can you speak the language of snakes?" it asked.

“Not just me, he can too,” Harry said, pointing at Dumbledore.

The giant snake sat up and glanced at Dumbledore.

"He looks familiar, but I can't remember who he is... Ah... Hiss..."

Before it could finish speaking, it began to roll violently on the ground.

"Kill! Kill!" it hissed, yet twisted its body, trying to get away from Harry and Dumbledore: "You... get away... I can't control myself... hiss..."

"Professor, you know snakes too?" Harry turned to Dumbledore and asked, casually using a binding spell to tie up the large snake.

Dumbledore always felt the answer was right on the tip of his tongue, but every time he tried to grasp it, the answer would sneak away.

Where exactly have I seen it before?
He felt he was about to find the answer.

“It seems its nature isn’t inherently bad,” Dumbledore nodded. “It’s because the fragments of Voldemort’s soul are twisting its personality, which is why it’s become like this… I need to find out what it really is…”

“It’s a snake,” Harry replied, then asked Dumbledore, “We’ve found six Horcruxes now, haven’t we? Hufflepuff’s cup, Slytherin’s pendant, Ravenclaw’s tiara, Riddle’s journal, Marvolo Gaunt’s ring, and this snake.”

"To be precise, there are seven," Dumbledore said with a smile, pointing at Harry. "Have you forgotten? You yourself were an Horcrux that Voldemort created unintentionally."

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Harry said, slapping his forehead. “Professor, how many Horcruxes do you think Voldemort made in total?”

“As I said before, seven is a magical number,” Dumbledore nodded. “Although you are a Horcrux he created unintentionally, I think his limit is only seven Horcruxes. After all, if he were to tear apart the soul again, his original body would have no reason left.”

“I don’t think he’s any of his senses right now,” Harry shrugged. “So, Professor, do you have any clue where Voldemort is?”

"I don't know," Dumbledore answered truthfully. "The last time I heard of him was in Canada. As for his exact location, I don't know. I've been tracking him for half a year and all I've found is this snake Horcrux."

"It's not a complete loss," Harry said with a smile. "At least Voldemort is now a fugitive, and if we can capture his true form, we can destroy him completely."

“It’s hard to say,” Dumbledore sighed. “Optimism is a good thing, but you mustn’t forget that there are two Voldemors these days, one is Riddle the Diary, and the other is the Voldemort himself—and the prisoners of Azkaban have escaped and left England. As for where they are going, I don’t know.”

Harry glanced at Dumbledore suspiciously, only to receive a knowing smile from the man.

Okay, okay, did you do it on purpose or by accident?

It's easy to guess where these Death Eaters will go—most likely to America to join that effeminate Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore also seemed to harbor resentment towards the Magical Congress of the United States. He had heard Vivi mention several times that Dumbledore had tried to enter the United States to track down Voldemort, but had been firmly rejected by the Magical Congress.

The reason given was that he had an improper relationship with Gellert Grindelwald—Harry didn't know why the Magical Congress of the United States would use this reason, which was actually quite damn undignified.

It seems the Americans will pay the price for their arrogance.

Boring, I want to see rivers of blood!
“Of course,” Dumbledore said again, “I also want to thank you, Harry, for standing up to protect the students and professors of Hogwarts at a crucial moment.”

“It’s what I should do,” Harry nodded. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a backup plan, Professor Dumbledore. Are you just going to let that pink toad Umbridge cause trouble at Hogwarts if I do nothing?”

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then nodded and said, "My backup plan is you, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath.

What you said makes so much sense, I'm speechless.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes, hidden behind his half-moon spectacles, gleaming, it was hard to tell whether it was reflected light or simply radiant.

Dumbledore didn't think much of the fact that Harry was the backup plan.

Although Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry may be young, but he is Dumbledore's senior!

If not now, when will you ever be able to rely on your parents?

Trust your senior, okay?

Harry clearly hadn't expected that he, a mere sixteen-year-old, would be taken advantage of by the old man Dumbledore.

“By the way,” Harry asked, “do you have a suitable candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts?”

"I haven't considered that yet," Dumbledore said truthfully. "But I think we could rehire Lupin. What do you think?"

(End of this chapter)