Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 265, Section 264: The Tri-School Talks and Aggressive Scrimgeour

Kreacher, the house-elf of the Black family, seemed to have changed completely. He no longer uttered those muttered curses. He stopped calling Sirius Black the spendthrift or the traitor, and instead bowed respectfully and called him "Master."

At the same time, Kreacher no longer called Harry and Ron pure-blood traitors and scoundrels, but instead respectfully addressed them as Master Harry and his friends.

Even Hermione was given the right to receive services. Although Kreacher still didn't want her to touch him, he was at least willing to make Hermione a cup of hot tea.

The changes were unprecedented, and Sirius was almost struggling to adapt.

“Can you believe it? Kreacher actually stepped into my room and cleaned it. In the past, my room was practically a forbidden zone for the entire Black family. If I hadn’t used the Permanent Adhesion Charm, they probably would have scraped the whole room clean.” Sitting at the dining table, Sirius said with an incredulous look on his face, “But when I went back to my room last night, I found it so clean that I couldn’t see a speck of dust.”

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Hermione said happily. “It’s much better than Kreacher wishing you were dead.”

“Yeah, that’s a good thing,” Ron muttered. “At least we don’t have to clean this old house ourselves. A house-elf who’s willing to get moving can do much better than us.”

“That’s right, Ron,” Sirius snapped his fingers and said, “They’re born to do this. You can’t imagine how moved Kreacher was when I promised him in the kitchen that I would cut off his head and hang it on the wall when he died. I dare say I’m now truly his master, at least I don’t have to worry about him deliberately causing trouble for me anymore.”

"...Does it really have to be done that way?" Hermione frowned. "Anyway, beheading is a serious matter..."

A row of house-elves' heads hangs in the porch of Black's old house. They are the heads of Kreacher's ancestors. Only outstanding house-elves who have worked diligently and conscientiously all their lives deserve such an honor. This is Kreacher's lifelong dream—after his master Regulus's revenge was avenged and the locket was destroyed, this is Kreacher's last wish.

“Oh, I know you’ll probably find this custom hard to accept, Hermione,” Ron said, munching on a steak. “But that’s what Kreacher wants. Believe me, if you go and tell him you can’t do it, he won’t be happy. He’ll turn around and yell at you, just like when you first got here.”

“But that’s not right!” Hermione said, somewhat annoyed. “Everything he knows is what others have told him. He grew up in this environment, exposed to these kinds of ideas, and that’s why he’s the way he is. If he knew what the outside world was like—”

“Kreacher has always known what the outside world is like,” Sirius said somewhat impatiently. “Good girl, I know you mean well, but I have to say that’s just how house-elves are. It’s their bloodline, their instincts, and they can’t go against it—and to be honest, I don’t know what’s wrong with that. At least Kreacher is willing to cook now, and he’s pretty good at it.”

Hermione stopped talking and started angrily poking at the steak on her plate with her fork, as if she were stabbing at the bloodline of a house-elf.

“And you? Why aren’t you saying anything, Harry?” Hermione suddenly turned and asked, “You don’t treat Alfred like this.”

“Kreacher can’t be changed, Hermione,” Harry explained patiently. “He’s old enough and doesn’t have much time left, so let him fulfill his wish in the last days of his life. That’s a kind of mercy.”

“That’s a lie!” Hermione said sullenly.

“Perhaps,” Harry shook his head slightly, “but for Kreacher, this was the last thing he wanted. There was no need to shatter his world at the end of his life.”

“…Alright.” After a few seconds of silence, Hermione finally relented, and Sirius immediately looked thankful. “What you said makes sense, Harry.”

“Just like Dumbledore,” Neville suddenly interjected. “Are all headmasters like this? Harry is starting to resemble Headmaster Dumbledore more and more.”

“Well, I’m probably still a long way off, at least I can’t get the beard,” Harry said with a smile, gesturing to his chest. “And as the headmaster, I have to remind you to finish your summer homework and not to overdo it here.”

One sentence was enough to kill Ron Nave's appetite, and their desperate look made everyone burst into laughter.

“Oh, and as a friend, I have to remind you to practice your magic a lot during this holiday,” Harry suddenly said. “You never know when you might need it.”

"What?" Hermione asked in surprise, "What's wrong? Is something going to happen at Hogwarts again?"

"secret."

"Harry!!!"

Principal Potter kept his friends in a state of freshness and curiosity before he had to rush off to France to meet with the principals of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to discuss the Triwizard Tournament in detail.

Harry's plan and the attitude of the British Ministry of Magic had indeed been conveyed to them, but in their reply they neither agreed nor refused, only saying that they had to meet and talk.

The existence of magic certainly made it exceptionally convenient for wizards to travel. Harry traveled directly from England to France via the Ministry of Magic's Floo Network, and then went to Beauxbatons—a magic school located in the Pyrenees Mountains.

Unlike Hogwarts, which is centered around a castle, Beauxbatons is more like a breathtakingly grand manor, surrounded by vast lawns maintained by magic. Upon entering, you can see the huge fountain and statues of Nico and his wife—Nico was a long-time patron of Beauxbatons.

So if we consider Harry's status as Nico's successor, Harry and Beauxbatons can actually be linked... and they're even quite close.

Madam Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, was the second tallest person Harry had ever seen in the world—the tallest being Hagrid. To put it simply, Madam Maxime's height and build initially gave the impression of being a good match for Hagrid, but unlike Hagrid, she possessed an elegant demeanor, exuding a French air, and was impeccably groomed.

“Welcome, Headmaster Potter,” Madam Maxim had to bow slightly to allow Harry to kiss the back of her hand, and even then Harry had to stand on tiptoe, making the gesture of a hand kiss rather difficult.

“I had anticipated Dumbledore’s retirement, but I never imagined his successor would be so…young.” Carefully choosing her words, it was clear that Mrs. Maxim did not want to offend Harry in any way. “This shows that you are indeed a capable person, otherwise I cannot imagine that British wizards would choose a twelve-year-old child as the headmaster of a magic school—even the British would not do such a strange thing without reason.”

“I’m actually thirteen,” Harry joked. “As for my abilities, I’m pretty sure I’m capable of taking on the responsibilities of a headmaster.”

“That would be perfect,” Mrs. Maxim said with a smile. “Come on, Principal Potter, Principal Karkaroff, and all the ministers have been waiting for quite some time. Well, I hope you won’t feel too awkward in Beauxbatons. After all, this is practically another home for you—you should know about Nicole’s relationship with Beauxbatons, right?”

"I know," Harry nodded slightly. "You know?"

“Yes, I know you. Nico is also my friend,” Mrs. Maxim said. “As Nick’s successor, you should be closer to Beauxbatons, but the fact is that this is your first time here.”

“This…this is indeed quite unexpected,” Harry said somewhat helplessly. “Your attitude is better than I expected. I thought French wizards would have a hard time accepting that I inherited Nico’s knowledge.”

“Oh, of course they will,” Mrs. Maxim laughed, “but you don’t need to worry about it. After all, Nico hasn’t seen outsiders in a long time, and his only friends are all elderly people.”

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your situation, nor will I let Principal Karkarov know," the two chatted casually as they walked. "It's a pity it's summer vacation now, otherwise you would have seen many beautiful and enthusiastic French girls."

A beautiful and passionate French girl... What does that mean?
Harry pretended not to hear her and followed Mrs. Maxime to a meeting room in Beauxbatons.

Headmaster Karkaroff was already waiting there, looking anxious and impatient. Although he appeared surprised when Harry came in, he wasn't foolish enough to question him directly.

Those present were not only the headmasters of the three magic schools, but also the British Minister for Magic, Scrimgeour, and the French Minister for Magic, Fernando—only these two ministers, because Durmstrang is located in a very northern part of Europe and receives students from many small countries, so it is impossible to have a permanent minister.

If all the ministers of magic from those small countries came, that would be too many people.

Harry sat next to Scrimgeour.

"Now that we're here, let's get started," Headmaster Karkaroff said hastily after Harry and Mrs. Maxim were seated. "Regarding your proposed new Triwizard Tournament, Headmaster Potter, are you serious? Are you really prepared to face this openly, even in front of Muggles?"

“Wait a minute, Headmaster Karkaroff,” Harry interrupted, raising his hand. “I don’t know how the British Ministry of Magic communicates with your respective local Ministries of Magic, but the New World Championship is a done deal at least at Hogwarts and in Britain—regardless of whether Beauxbatons or Durmstrang are involved, the tournament will definitely be held; it’s just a matter of what it’ll be called.”

“The Hogwarts Tournament, the Wizarding Championship… whatever you call it, the point is that it’s already been confirmed,” Harry said in an unquestionable tone. “So if you’re trying to say you disagree with this tournament or anything like that, you can save your breath.”

After Harry finished speaking, an eerie silence fell over the meeting room. Even Mrs. Maxim, who had led Harry in, stared at him in astonishment, completely surprised that the polite and kind Harry would start with such a firm and uncompromising attitude.

Everyone else turned their attention to Scrimgeour on the other side, but they didn't see what they wanted to see; Scrimgeour simply nodded in affirmation of Harry's words.

"Ha, I really didn't know that the will of the Headmaster of Hogwarts could directly represent the British Ministry of Magic," Karkaroff couldn't help but laugh. "What's this?"

“We agree,” Scrimgeour said seriously, his gaze sharp as a lion’s, fixed on Karkaroff’s face. “Is that right? Karkaroff—if I remember correctly, I caught you myself thirteen years ago, a former Death Eater. You implicated quite a few people to barely escape trial. I never expected you to become the principal of Durmstrang. It seems that the saying that the school is rotten to the core is not an exaggeration.”

Scringer's aggression was a bit too much; he directly exposed Karkaroff's true colors, almost causing the unfriendly-looking principal to jump up from his chair in a fit of excitement.

“That’s slander! I was controlled by the Imperius Curse! I’m innocent!!” Karkaroff stood up and shouted.

The atmosphere of the meeting seemed less than pleasant, and it quickly descended into a standoff.

“Calm down, everyone,” French Minister of Magic Fernando tapped the table with a helpless expression. “Those are all things of the past. I thought we were gathered here today to discuss the Triwizard Tournament.”

“That’s right, wait a minute, Rufus,” Harry nodded and said, “Please sit down too, Headmaster Karkaroff. Whether you are a Death Eater is not for us to judge, but for those Death Eaters who escaped… We all know what happened back then. After all, I have a very good Potions professor, and you should understand what I mean.”

Karkarov was speechless. He just tugged at his collar, his face flushed red, and after several seconds he sat back down.

This time, however, there was no longer any contempt in his gaze towards Harry.

(End of this chapter)