A Minor Headache for the Ministry of Magic

As Dudley downstairs, Harry finished writing his letter to Nicolas Flamel.

He pondered his signature for a long time before finally signing Veratia's name at the back.

Hey, I hope the elderly person won't make a sharp, popping sound after seeing this.

Hmm... But judging from the way LeMay looked when I last saw him, with his osteoporosis as bad as a cookie, he probably wouldn't be able to produce any sharp popping sounds.

To Harry's surprise, Dudley never came back up.

He didn't pay much attention to it and didn't go downstairs until dinner time.

Before going downstairs, he didn't forget to deliver the letter to Nicolas Flamel —he'd have to trouble Hedwig.

He also specifically instructed Hedwig that once it arrived at LeMay family, it didn't need to fly back—he could bring it back with him when he went to France.

As for replying, he believed Mr. LeMay would have a way.

Hedwig: Thank you for still caring about me traveling across the ocean.

Dinner was quite plentiful; Aunt Petunia's cooking skills are actually quite good, otherwise... Uncle Vernon and Dudley wouldn't have gotten so fat.

Sometimes Harry thought that if Aunt Petunia opened a pig farm, she would make a lot of money.

Look, these two at home...

The meal was eaten in silence, and just when Harry thought it was going to end like this, Uncle Vernon suddenly spoke up.

"Harry".

Harry was a little surprised; this was the first time Uncle Vernon had ever addressed him like that.

He usually calls himself "boy," "freak," "Potter," or "Harry Potter," but this is the first time he's called himself Harry.

"Is there something you need?" he asked casually.

"Dudley told me about that Potions," Uncle Vernon said, his face flushed, as if he were embarrassed to say the next sentence. "Do you really think it works? Of course, I don't... well, anyway, does it really work?"

"It really works, Uncle." Harry pulled the glowing vial from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Just add a little to the food, and whoever eats it will be very happy—would you like to try it?"

"Yes," Uncle Vernon nodded.

Harry pulled out the cork and poured a little into Uncle Vernon's glass.

Uncle Vernon picked up his glass and drank it all in one gulp.

Before long, Uncle Vernon's lips curled into an uncontrollable smile.

"I feel very happy."

He turned to look at Harry, his expression a mixture of emotions.

"Honestly, this is the first time in over ten years that I've found you so pleasing to the eye. It's like seeing Dudley again..."

Only then did he realize something was wrong.

"Oh my god! It really works?!"

"Just like I said." Harry shrugged.

"Thanks." Uncle Vernon reached out and patted Harry on the shoulder. "I owe you one, kid."

Harry smiled at Uncle Vernon.

On Harry's birthday, he even received a huge birthday cake at noon.

His cottage was already overflowing with birthday gifts from his friends, as well as letters from Ron, who anxiously asked why he hadn't come over. He had been waiting for a long time, and his whole family was looking forward to his arrival.

Harry wrote him a letter, telling him he would come over that afternoon.

At lunchtime, Harry told his aunt and uncle that he wouldn't be eating at home that evening—especially mentioning that his owl had left.

After his uncle's feigned attempt to persuade him to stay, Harry shook his head in refusal.

He then took Pabbie, hailed a taxi, and arrived at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

Inside the Leaky Cauldron, Ron sat and waited.

Upon seeing Harry enter, Ron quickly put down his Butterbeer and ran over.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" he said.

"Thank you, Ron." Harry patted him on the shoulder with a smile.

"Oh, right, we'll have to wait a bit." Ron glanced behind Harry. "My dad shouldn't be here for a while, then we'll go home together."

He had barely finished speaking when the door to the Leaky Cauldron was opened again.

A slightly thin, middle-aged man walked in. Harry noticed that he was balding, but the little hair he had left was as red as Ron's.

If nothing unexpected happens, he is Ron's father, Arthur Weasley.

He was wearing a green robe and looked travel-worn.

"Dad," Ron waved.

When Mr. Weasley saw Ron, he waved to him and went to his seat.

"Give me a beer!" he shouted, slumping into a chair, taking off his glasses, closing his eyes, and looking somewhat exhausted.

"What a day!" Mr. Weasley grumbled. "The Auror ' negligence has left us to clean up their mess—"

"What's wrong, Dad?" Ron asked, then introduced, "Dad, this is Harry, the Harry Potter I always tell you about."

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, bewildered. "Which Harry?"

He looked around and saw Harry sitting rather inconspicuously to the side, and immediately jumped up.

"Good heavens, is that Harry Potter? It's so nice to see you. Ron has told us so much about you... Hello, I'm Arthur Weasley, Ron's dad. Thank you for helping my Ron at school."

"Hello, Uncle Arthur, it's my pleasure," Harry greeted with a smile. "You seemed quite busy earlier, was something important?"

Mr. Weasley wore a troubled expression. He waved his hand and said, "Good heavens, there's a Dark Wizard in Knockturn Alley who imprisoned some Muggle. A kind-hearted stranger rescued them—but that kind wizard forgot to erase their Muggle. After they got out, they placed ads in the Muggle newspapers, which gave us a lot of trouble... Tonight, if nothing unexpected happens, you'll see we have to go out and erase those Muggle ' memories again..."

"What are Dark Wizard imprisoning Muggle for?" Ron asked curiously.

"You wouldn't want to know, Ron." Mr. Weasley looked at Ron with the eyes of someone looking at a genius, took the ice-cold beer handed to him by the bartender, and took a big gulp.

"Ah..." He put down his glass. "This is life—"

"Do you know who saved those Muggle?" Ron asked again.

"I don't know. I heard that the Muggle Prime Minister spoke with Fudge and forbade us from using Truth Serum on those Muggle." Mr. Weasley sighed. "But he has a point. After all, those people have already been tortured once. Giving them Truth Serum again... would be inhumane."

"It's tough on us," Mr. Weasley said to Harry, taking another gulp of beer. "I remember Ron said it's your birthday today. Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thank you, Uncle Arthur," Harry politely and obediently.

Mr. Weasley thought to himself with a touch of emotion, "This child... he's really good. He's just like his mother."

"So I heard you've been living in the Muggle world?" Mr. Weasley asked again. "Then can you tell me, what exactly is the rubber duck?"

"It's basically just a toy for Muggle kids to play with in the bath; it doesn't serve any other purpose," Harry described. "It makes a sound when you press it, and the kids really like it."

"Oh! I see!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, the mystery that had been troubling him finally solved.

He added, "I'll take you home first, then I need to go back to the ministry to deal with some trouble. It's really... tiring."

Then he said to Harry again, "It's alright, Harry. Make yourself at home. Your Aunt Molly is always talking about you, especially Ron, who said she prepared lots of good food for you since you're coming back today."

"Really?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Of course." Mr. Weasley, catching his breath, said to them, "After I rest for a bit, I'll take you back."

After Mr. Weasley finished speaking, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest. Ron nudged Harry's ribs and whispered, "He's probably asleep."

No sooner had he finished speaking than snoring began.

"Mr. Weasley is tired enough," Harry patted Ron. "We'd better not disturb him; he'll wake up on his own in a bit."

He felt a little guilty as he said this, because he was the one who hadn't had his Muggle memories erased.

It would be fine if someone else were to suffer, but this Mr. Weasley... is the descendant of his good friend Gareth, and the father of his good friend Ron.

The generational hierarchy... well, it's a bit messy.

"If I find out who that person is, I'll make them pay!" Ron said, still somewhat indignant, not for any other reason than for his father, who had collapsed from exhaustion. "Just you wait, Harry!"

"Um... yes." Harry turned his head away, looking very guilty.

"What are you doing?" Ron patted Harry on the shoulder. "That person isn't you."

Harry thought to himself, "No, that person is me."

Huh?

Wait a minute, he thought about it. Before, he used the alias "Sebastian - This is none of your business" in Knockturn Alley. So what did Sebastian do that had to do with him, Harry Potter?

Thinking this way, Harry felt less guilty.

A moment later, Mr. Weasley snored, as if he had choked, waking himself up.

He chewed his lips sleepily and asked, "How long have I been asleep?"

"Half an hour," Ron said.

Mr. Weasley reached out and rubbed his face haphazardly a couple of times, then let out a long yawn.

"Let me wake up," said Mr. Weasley. "I'll Apparition you two home in a bit—oh, I forgot to drive today, otherwise I would have definitely shown Harry our car..."

"I remember Mr. Granger seemed quite interested in flying cars," Harry said, looking at Ron. "At Christmas, at Hermione's house, Ron talked to Mr. Granger about your car, that flying car."

"Really? Haha!" Mr. Weasley said with a hint of pride, "I put a lot of effort into modifying that—you mean Mr. Granger, right? Hermione's father? I remember Ron often telling me about a little girl named Hermione who you two get along with quite well?"

"Yes, we're members of the Dueling Club," Harry said with a smile.

"I've heard about your dueling organization, Harry." Mr. Weasley patted Harry's arm. "If you don't mind, you can bring Fred and George along. Those two have endless energy every day. It's better to let them expend it on practicing duels than to have them playing pranks at school."

"Sure," Harry said, not refusing Mr. Weasley's request.

"Very well," Mr. Weasley stood up. "You two come with me to the door, and I'll Apparition you."

A moment later, the three appeared at the Weasley family ' door.

As soon as Ron landed, he vomited all the Butterbeer he had just drunk onto the ground.

"No matter how many times, I don't like this feeling," Ron groaned.

"Just go inside and have some water," Mr. Weasley patted Ron on the back, trying to make him feel better.

Harry looked up at Ron's house.

To be honest, Ron's house was very simple—it used to look like a big stone pigsty, and then rooms were added here and there, piled up to several stories high, crooked and twisted, as if it were built by magic.

Harry swore that the house would have collapsed long ago if it weren't for magic.

There are four or five chimneys on the red roof, and a sign sticks out at an angle in front of the house that reads "The Burrow".

Some high-top leather boots lay discarded beside the gate, along with a Scabbers crucible. Several plump brown chickens pecked at the ground in the yard, looking quite content.

"Not so good, is it?" Ron turned his head away somewhat embarrassedly, his ears turning red.

"It's absolutely wonderful." Harry genuinely put his arm around Ron's shoulder. "I mean, it feels so homey, so cozy."

"Really?" Ron finally smiled. "I think so too—it may be a bit simple, but it's definitely a cozy home."

"Well, children," Mr. Weasley sighed, "I won't be attending the dinner tonight. I have to go back to the ministry, oh dear..."

"Be careful, Uncle Arthur," Harry said politely.

"Thank you, Harry." After saying this, Mr. Weasley disappeared from the spot.

Ron waved in the direction where Mr. Weasley had disappeared and said to Harry, "Let's go inside..."

"Wait, I brought a friend with me," Harry said, opening his wallet and letting Pabbie out.

As soon as it came into contact with the sunlight, Pabbie let out a soft cry and then happily hopped around twice.

"Blood Mother Hell! You actually brought out Unicorn?!" Ron pointed at Pabbie, his expression one of utter shock.

He really didn't expect his good friend to be so brave as to smuggle Unicorn!

"Relax, we're all friends." Harry patted Pabbie on the waist.

Before Ron could say anything, an owl flew over from the distant horizon.

"Whose owl is this?" Ron asked, looking up.

Soon, the owl gave him the answer.

The owl flew over to Harry and tossed a rather ornate-looking envelope in front of him.

"Oh, it's your letter."

Ron bent down to pick it up for Harry, glanced at the letter, and then at Harry.

"Nicolas Flamel?! Harry, you know Nicolas Flamel? He actually wrote to you?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he heard that.

Nicolas Flamel?

How did he know that I wrote that letter?!

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