Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 269, Section 268: Yes, Prime Minister.
Surprisingly simple.

Harry had initially thought that he and Dumbledore would have to fight their way in and out, from goblins to Aurors, but to his surprise, their infiltration was incredibly smooth and easy, and their exit was even simpler.

They didn't even need to lift a finger; the fire dragon's flames cleared the way for them.

With just a few Shattering Charms and Digging Charms, the dragon quickly broke through the underground passage and arrived at Gringotts' marble entrance hall. Before Harry even stepped outside, he could already hear the screams of goblins and wizards. It was clear that Harry was completely powerless to fight back. Both goblins and wizards were scattering and running for their lives to avoid being smashed to pieces by the dragon.

A fully grown fire dragon would require a team of at least twelve elite wizards working together to control it in the entire wizarding society. Although the dragon Harry saw was not in good condition, it was still a giant dragon with strong scales and a powerful body.

Especially in such a confined space, even those dragon-raising wizards have no way to deal with a dragon.

The dragon finally found a space to spread its wings. It could smell the cool, fresh air from the open door, so it stepped out and pushed the Gringotts doors off the wall. It staggered into Diagon Alley and then took off.

As for Harry and Dumbledore, they had already blended into the fleeing crowd after the car arrived at its destination, and had even Apparated back to Hogwarts.

"Well then, let's start dividing the spoils." Harry's words, barely warmed his seat, made Dumbledore turn his head away.

"Split the spoils?"

The old man almost laughed and couldn't help it.

“Of course it’s about dividing the spoils,” Harry said confidently. “Every adventure ends with a division of spoils, otherwise the crew will start fighting amongst themselves.”

“I know what dividing the spoils means, Harry,” Dumbledore paused for a moment, “I mean, you seem a little… too skilled at it.”

While the two were talking, Harry had already dumped all the gold and jewelry he had brought from the Lestrange family vault onto the table and quickly divided it into two equal piles.

“You get one pile, I get one pile,” Harry said briefly. “It’s fair. That’s how it’s always been divided on every adventure.”

"Uh... thank you?" Dumbledore said dryly.

“You’re welcome, you deserve it,” Harry joked. “Also, congratulations on successfully fulfilling your childhood dream of robbing Gringotts. Don’t forget how you feel today.”

“Thank you, it’s hard to forget,” Dumbledore said humorously. “Here, the destroyed cup. Let me think… and these, the Horcruxes that were destroyed before. Shouldn’t we do some divination now?”

“Of course, I’d also like to know exactly how many pieces Voldemort cut his soul into, and how he kept it from collapsing,” Harry shrugged.

It was a routine divination, nothing out of the ordinary. Harry simply placed Voldemort's destroyed Horcruxes in front of the brazier, and it was perfectly appropriate for him, one of Voldemort's former Horcruxes, to perform the divination.

Inhaling the bluish smoke, Harry vaguely saw endless green flames, an aura of chaos. The fragment of the soul that had devoured the main soul and resurrected seemed to have been resurrected again in demonic form, but it was still in the distorted void.

That's it.

The divination did not change anything, nor did it switch to any unknown place; this was all Harry could see.

“So, your hunch seems to be wrong.” Harry opened his eyes again and said to Dumbledore, “It’s not seven Horcruxes, but six—five to be precise. Voldemort’s soul coming into my body was just an accident.”

“Oh, I think he just hasn’t had time to make it yet,” Dumbledore shrugged. “But if your divination is true, then this is certainly the best news… To be honest, Harry, I’ve never felt so relieved.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “once you find Grindelwald again, you can truly retire.”

“Retirement… haha,” Dumbledore’s expression was somewhat subtle. “That’s a word that’s both distant and close at the same time… well, just like before, call me when you need my help.”

“Speaking of which, do you remember Karkaroff?” Harry thought for a moment and said, “He seemed terrified by Voldemort’s resurrection, even though I repeatedly emphasized that Voldemort was almost dead, he was still uneasy.”

"so?"

“So he’s demanding that you be a judge in this Triwizard Tournament,” Harry sighed. “Otherwise, he’ll run away.”

"Hahahaha!" Dumbledore couldn't help but burst into laughter. "This is truly... well, well, I'll be there."

"Then it's settled."

....................................

The breach of Gringotts and the robbery of its vault have made the already tense magical world even more so, since Gringotts originally had the reputation of being the safest place in the magical world, as no one had ever breached it.

But now, even the proudest fairy can no longer stand up straight and say those words.

When Gringotts underwent emergency renovations and reopened the following morning, a large number of wizards quickly flocked in, eager to retrieve the money they had deposited there.

At first, the fairies would agree to this, but before long, they could no longer bear the feeling of having so much treasure taken from their treasury and refused to provide the wizards with the retrieval service, which undoubtedly angered the wizards who came to visit.

Even though the Ministry of Magic had already dispatched Aurors to the battlefield, some hot-tempered wizards pulled out their wands and started fighting with goblins after the goblins explicitly refused to let them withdraw money. The most bizarre thing was that although the Ministry of Magic's Aurors tried to stop them, to be honest, their efforts were not even as effective as those of a striker who had just graduated from school and joined the team.

There's nothing we can do about it; after all, Aurors are wizards too.
Who told Aurors to deposit money in Gringotts?
But the fairy is now refusing to process withdrawals, which would be unbearable for any wizard.

Before things could escalate further, Scrimgeour himself arrived at the scene. This former Auror office director, who had been promoted to minister, possessed considerable fighting ability. Upon arrival, he quickly disarmed an agitated wizard and took down a goblin who attempted to resist.

In his capacity as Minister of Magic, Scrimgeour ignored the goblins' horrified expressions and forced them to provide services to any wizard who wanted to take their money, a right that wizards were entitled to.

At this moment, Scrimgeour had no time to soothe the elves' emotions. Well, or rather, the emotions of magical creatures like elves had never been a priority for wizards; the most important thing was always the wizards' own people. What was giving Scrimgeour a bigger headache now was the fire dragon that flew out of Gringotts yesterday.

Even with the emergency recruitment of wizards to supplement the Ministry of Magic's manpower, it was still operating at full capacity, with numerous traces of elemental spirit activity needing to be concealed every day. Under these circumstances, a fire dragon flew directly over London, traveling from the city center to the outskirts. Such a colossal creature was naturally seen by countless Muggles.

Photos, webcams, the internet...

The truth can no longer be hidden.

The existing manpower is simply insufficient to conceal these piled-up traces of magic. Muggles have openly begun to suspect the existence of magic and dragons, and even the Muggle government's efforts to cover it up have had little effect. Because yesterday, the half-blind dragon, perhaps unable to find its way after taking off, circled high in the sky above London for several minutes before flying off into the wilderness.

Who can hide this now?
The memory erasure team members have already gone so far as to suggest asking Master Newt Scamander for help, to beg his Voldemorts to use a torrential downpour containing Voldemort venom to make Muggles forget everything—from London to Ireland, to make everyone forget! Forget!! Forget!!

The idea is good, but unfortunately it's not very realistic... After all, Muggles didn't have the internet when the magic leak crisis happened in the United States.

Times are different.

“That’s how it is, Mr. Prime Minister,” Scrimgeour said wearily, sitting behind the round table.

"Oh," the British Prime Minister across from him nodded.

He seemed to understand, but also seemed not to understand... Harry thought the man seemed to understand, but didn't know what to say.

“Hmm, I think… I mean—Humphrey?” The Prime Minister’s eyes began to dart to his side, toward his cabinet secretary.

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Humphrey’s face immediately lit up with a smile. “I think our Prime Minister means that the magical world can no longer remain hidden?”

"Yes."

"You intend to inform everyone about the existence of magic?"

"Yes."

"Has the Queen agreed?"

"What does this have to do with the Queen?"

“Oh, according to records, many wizarding nobles have sworn allegiance to the Queen’s ancestors,” Humphrey shrugged. “That certainly requires the Queen’s consent.”

“She will agree,” Scrimgeour said expressionlessly. “You’re missing the point, sir. It’s not that I want to make magic public, but that we can no longer hide it.”

“That’s really surprising,” Humphrey said in astonishment. “Even your magical powers won’t work? I mean, we can keep it as private as possible, after all, secrecy is the principle—we can claim that nothing happened.”

“And then?” Scrinkefair asked. “They always see it, especially when they see the cheese in their own house start dancing and the milk overflowing from the cup and starting to mop the floor.”

“Then we should declare that something may be happening, but we shouldn’t act rashly,” Humphrey replied immediately.

Harry couldn't help but clap his hands.

applaud.

“And then?” Harry asked. “What happens when Muggles, that is, ordinary people who don’t have magic, ask to know more?”

“Then declare that we should perhaps take action, but there’s nothing we can do.” Humphrey nodded firmly. “That’s right, unquestionable, absolutely correct—after all, there really is nothing we can do. We don’t have magic, sir… Headmaster.”

"Excuse me," the Prime Minister next to him couldn't help but raise his hand, like a student wanting to answer a question, "I know this may be a bit presumptuous, but—are you really the headmaster of a magic school?"

The British Prime Minister, Jim Harker, seemed to be in a good mood.

“Of course he is,” Scrimgeour said somewhat irritably. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the best magic school in all of Europe, with a history of over a thousand years.”

“Thousands of years!” Humphrey immediately adopted an expression of amazement. “That’s truly ancient, noble, and historically significant.”

“Oh, so you look like this… uh, so you’re actually an old man?” Hack gestured excitedly with both hands. “You just used some kind of magic to make yourself look so young… I don’t mean to offend you, sorry.”

“Let me put it this way, Mr. Prime Minister,” Harry decided to satisfy the Prime Minister’s curiosity, “my age is not greater than my appearance, which means I am indeed very young—the reason I was able to become the Headmaster of Hogwarts is because my magical abilities surpass those of the vast majority of wizards.”

"Talent," Humphrey immediately said, "Exceptional talent is a ladder that mediocre people can never reach, I understand."

So Huck turned to look at Humphrey.

“Is this the time to talk about this?” Scrimgeour grew increasingly impatient, tapping the table as he said, “And in the end, you can’t always appear incompetent in front of your people.”

“Yes, that’s the problem,” Humphrey nodded. “That’s why we have to keep it a secret, after all, we are a democratic society.”

“Yes, a democratic society,” Haq nodded repeatedly. “Democracy, yes, that’s it.”

“The essence of democracy is that people have the right to make mistakes, and our duty is to prevent them from exercising that right,” Humphrey continued.

"Hmm? Is that so?" Huck turned his head.

"Yes, Prime Minister."

“Well—yes, that’s what I meant too.” Huck nodded, looking back at Harry and Scrimgeour.

“…You can’t keep this a secret forever,” Scrimgeour said with a helpless expression. “What will you say then?”

“We could have done something back then, but it’s too late now,” Humphrey said with a smile.

“The problem hasn’t been solved,” Harry said seriously.

“Yes, but at least by then, we had all left the company,” Humphrey said casually. “If something is worth doing, then it is worth—delaying.”

(End of this chapter)