[Sith Lightsaber Construction Technique]

"Let Harry go!"

"Let go!"

"You accomplices!"

In front of Gringotts, countless wizards drew their wands and pointed them at the Aurors surrounding Harry and Hagrid.

Some had been making ice cream or tailoring clothes to fit their customers just moments ago...but now they'd turned into raving maniacs ready to storm a prison, looking even more like a proper army than the Aurors across from them.

The Ministry's Aurors were reminded of the terror from the end of the last century, when the Ministry had tried to forcibly demolish Diagon Alley, only for the united wizards to defy the order and escape unscathed.

Just how many Obliviates had been cast over the Leaky Cauldron remained a mystery.

The goblins in scarlet uniforms were no longer swaggering around. They trembled in fear. What was going on? Had they gone back to the days of the Goblin Rebellion?

An owl flew by, and a red letter drifted down from the sky.

"It's a Howler," one wizard recognized it.

Smoke began to rise from the envelope's four corners, then its roar exploded.

"Let Harry Potter go! He was only attacked and accidentally wandered into Knockturn Alley."

The Aurors, who had been covering their ears, breathed a sigh of relief.

The leader hurriedly pointed his wand at his throat. "Sonorus!"

His voice suddenly rose several notches, echoing off the walls as if he were in an enclosed space.

"That's a Howler from Director Scrimgeour. We'll release Harry at once. Everyone, stand aside."

When the Aurors really did vanish on the spot with a crack, the wizards lowered their wands one after another.

Their colleagues turned back into customers and shopkeepers, haggling over the price of an ounce of Dragon liver...and returning to their everyday lives.

In the crowd, a woman wearing jeweled glasses and sporting exaggerated red fingernails was beside herself with excitement.

"We should go to Gringotts." Hagrid's face was stiff as he pointed behind him.

"Th-this way, please." A goblin hurried down the steps obsequiously.

"As expected of Harry Potter. Even the goblins are so polite to him."

Even when he heard someone in the crowd say that, the goblin's ingratiating smile didn't fade.

"Haha." Hagrid finally couldn't keep a straight face. "You did great, Harry! Lucius Malfoy was hung upside down from the Borgin and Burkes sign, with his shiny underpants showing. You should've seen it—the light from them reflected right onto Scrimgeour's face."

"That's why he doesn't dare show his face now."

"Maybe." Harry smiled, but his gaze wandered. He was completely lost in his own world.

[...After calculation, you have soothed a total of 35 dark wizards, including one Death Eater, earning a total of 44 experience points and one guaranteed Silver-tier Magic Knowledge draw]

--Draw.

[Sith Lightsaber Construction Technique, adapted for local use]

That was why Harry was still so unsettled.

If Gandalf Combat Art Fragment hadn't still been in his skill bar as recently as a month ago, he would have continued to assume the Dogskin Book's draw pool was limited to this world.

But now...

"Harry, Harry, we're here. Are you all right?" Hagrid lay pale-faced in the little cart. They'd been riding it down through the winding, maze-like tunnels, and were now nearly a kilometer underground.

They'd even passed an underground lake filled with stalactites.

"I'm fine."

"Of course. You're stronger than a Graphorn."

Hagrid coughed and glanced at Griphook, who was listening with his ears perked up. "As your elder, I have to warn you: whatever you do, don't raise a Werewolf pup under your bed, don't fight Trolls in the Forbidden Forest, don't take Fantastic Beasts' eggs from the Leaky Cauldron and raise them at school, and..."

"Never trust anyone from Slytherin."

"If you really want to..." Hagrid blinked and lowered his voice. "You can come find me. The Forbidden Forest is big enough for plenty of Fantastic Beasts."

[The great Savior must have a loyal, powerful, and emblematic mount. Obtain a 5X-class magical creature and earn its recognition before the end of this school year.]

[Reward: 100 experience points, one Poké Ball]

--Where'd you come from, mission trigger?

Harry grumbled. Now he could be sure the rewards weren't limited to this world anymore.

"Please, come in." Griphook finally stopped dawdling and opened the door.

Heaps of Galleons, Silver Sickles, and mountains of Bronze Knuts appeared before them in a cloud of smoke.

At the same time, at the Daily Prophet's main office, 200 meters from Gringotts...

"Mr. Gufei, why was my article rejected?" Rita Skeeter felt as if mountains of Galleons were slipping away from her. The jeweled pendants on her glasses bobbed with her restless mood.

"Rita, you really are a quick shot. You finished the article in just ten minutes and got plenty of valuable pictures. But..." Barnabas Cuffe, a kindly-looking man with a goatee, spoke softly.

"But what?"

"Who gave you the nerve to slander Harry Potter? The Ministry of Magic—"

"The Ministry of Magic? It's not the first time we've said bad things about it. Even Dumbledore, I—"

"Foolish! Dumbledore was smearing himself. It was his way of controlling Fudge, that nervous idiot! Would you dare investigate Dumbledore's true history? His family? Would you dare? No one in the Wizarding World would, not while he was alive!"

"The Daily Prophet is independent, controlled by no institution, and insists on having its own voice. Is that a lie too?"

"It is. That's just the image we use to make the Daily Prophet the most widely subscribed publication. We've always been influenced by various authorities: Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot. But unfortunately...after Dumbledore took over, we and Hogwarts..." Cuffe sighed. "Then again, with Fudge under his control, he doesn't need us at all."

"What about me?" Rita Skeeter asked.

Cuffe tossed her a photograph. It showed a glittering backside covered by silk underwear.

"Oh, and don't mention the mark on his arm. That's already a settled matter, and it involves many respectable bigwigs."

"A bigwig—the biggest bigwig of all!"

Inside Ollivander's wand shop, Ollivander's eyes gleamed. "I've seen your masterpiece. You caused such violence without a wand. Let me think...what would be worthy of you?"

"Did one of your ancestors make a wand that never found an owner?" Harry joked, bright and cheerful.

For once, he had some free time without the Dogskin Book causing trouble, so he planned to take things slowly.

Hagrid's arrival had been so sudden that Harry had missed his meeting with Quirrell and Voldemort, as well as his first close encounter with the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry really wanted to see if the wand suited to him would still be that Holly Wand.

"Not every 'old' wand is powerful. What matters is its history. As long as it has no owner, even a thousand-year-old wand is just a newborn. And if you also take poor maintenance and improvements in craftsmanship into account..."

Ollivander didn't continue, but the pride on his face gave away what he was thinking.

The wands he made now had surpassed those of every Ollivander before him.

"Holly, Phoenix Feather, eleven inches long."

Ollivander handed him an open wand box. "I think...this is the one."