[Sith Lightsaber Construction Technique]

"Let Harry go!"

"Let him go!"

"You accomplices!"

Before Gringotts, countless wizards raised their wands, aiming at the Aurors who had surrounded Harry and Hagrid.

Some of them had been making ice cream or tailoring clothes for customers moments ago... but now they had transformed into reckless rescuers, carrying themselves with more discipline than the Aurors across from them.

The Ministry of Magic's Aurors were once again reminded of the terror from the end of the last century, when Diagon Alley faced forced demolition, and the wizards united to defy the decree and walk away unscathed.

How many Memory Charms had been cast on the Leaky Cauldron remained a mystery to this day.

The goblins in their scarlet uniforms stopped strutting and began to tremble—what was happening? Had they suddenly returned to the era of goblin rebellions?

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

"That's a Howler," a wizard recognized.

The corners of the envelope had already begun to smoke, and then a wave of sound exploded open.

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

The Aurors, hands clamped over their ears, breathed a sigh of relief.

The leader quickly pointed his wand at his own throat. "Sonorus!"

His voice shot up several decibels, as if he were in a sealed room, echoing off the walls.

"That's Scrimgeour's Howler. We'll release Harry now. Everyone, stand aside."

Seeing the Aurors truly vanish on the spot with a series of cracks from Apparition, the wizards lowered their wands one by one.

The former comrades once again became customers and shopkeepers, haggling over the price of an ounce of dragon liver... all slipping back into their daily lives.

In the crowd, a woman with jewel-studded glasses and outrageously long red nails was trembling with excitement.

"We should head to Gringotts," Hagrid said, his face stiff as he pointed behind him.

"Please~" A goblin scurried down the steps obsequiously.

"As expected of Harry Potter, even the goblins treat him with such respect."

Even as he heard someone in the crowd say this, the flattery on his face didn't fade.

"Haha." Hagrid's face finally cracked. "Harry, you did brilliantly! Lucius Malfoy was dangling upside down from Borgin and Burkes' sign, his shiny underpants showing for all to see. You didn't catch it—the light from that thing was reflecting right off Scrimgeour's face."

"He's too scared to show his face now, probably for that very reason."

"Maybe," Harry said with a smile, but his eyes were distant, completely lost in his own world.

[...Calculated. You have pacified a total of 35 dark wizards, including one Death Eater. Total experience gained: 44. One guaranteed Silver-tier magic knowledge draw opportunity.]

—Draw.

[Sith Lightsaber Construction Technique, localized for this world.]

This was why Harry still couldn't settle his mind.

If it weren't for the fact that the [Gandalf Combat Art Fragment] had remained in his skill slot until a month ago, he would have always thought this dog-eared book's draw range was limited to this world.

But now...

"Harry, Harry, we're here. You alright?" Hagrid, pale-faced, lay in the cart. They had just ridden the cart down a maze of winding, twisting tunnels, and now they were nearly a kilometer underground.

They had even passed an underground lake with stalactites.

"I'm fine."

"Right, you're tougher than a Graphorn."

Hagrid coughed, glanced at Griphook, who was eavesdropping, and said, "As your elder, I have to warn you—never, ever raise a werewolf cub under your bed, don't go fist-fighting trolls in the Forbidden Forest, don't just grab magical creature eggs from the Leaky Cauldron to raise at school, and..."

"Never trust a Slytherin."

"If you really have to..." Hagrid blinked and lowered his voice, "You can come to me. The Forbidden Forest is big enough to hold plenty of magical creatures."

[The great savior must have a loyal, powerful, and symbolic 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].]

—Are you some kind of quest trigger?

Harry complained internally. At least now he could confirm that the rewards were no longer limited to this world.

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

Piles of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and mountains of bronze Knuts appeared before the three of them, accompanied by thick smoke.

Meanwhile, two hundred meters from Gringotts, at the main office of the Daily Prophet.

"Mr. Cuffe, why was my article rejected!" Rita Skeeter felt as though a mountain of gold Galleons was slipping away from her. The jeweled pendant on her glasses swayed as erratically as her mood.

"Rita, you truly are a fast hand—only ten minutes and you had the article finished, along with plenty of valuable photos. But..." Barnabas Cuffe, a mild-mannered man with a goatee, said softly.

"But what?"

"Who gave you the nerve to badmouth Harry Potter? The Ministry—"

"The Ministry? It's not the first time we've spoken ill of them, and even Dumbledore, I—"

"Fool! That's Dumbledore smearing himself—it's his scheme to control that jittery idiot Fudge! Do you dare investigate Dumbledore's true life story? His family? Do you dare? In the wizarding world, while he's alive, no one dares!"

"The Daily Prophet is independent, not controlled by any institution, insisting on publishing its own voice—is that fake too?"

"Fake. That's the persona that made the Daily Prophet the publication with the highest subscription numbers. We've always been influenced by various authoritative bodies—Hogwarts, the Ministry, the Wizengamot. Unfortunately... after Dumbledore took office, we and Hogwarts..." Gufei sighed, "Right, with Fudge under his thumb, he doesn't need us at all."

"Then what about me?" Rita Skeeter asked.

Gufei tossed out a photo, showing a glittering buttocks covered by silk underwear.

"By the way, don't mention the mark on his arm. That's a settled matter, involving too many respectable big shots."

"Big shots, unprecedented big shots!"

Inside Ollivander's wand shop, Ollivander's eyes flickered. "I saw your masterpiece. Without a wand, you wrought such violence. Let me think... what could be worthy of you."

"One of your ancestors' wands that never found an owner?" Harry joked, sunny and cheerful.

With rare free time and no dog-book mischief to stir things up, he planned to take it slow.

Hagrid's sudden arrival had made him miss the meeting with Quirrell and Voldemort, and his first close encounter with the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry was curious to see if the Holly Wand would still choose him.

"Not every 'old' wand is powerful. What matters is its history. Without an owner, even a thousand-year-old wand is just a newborn. Factor in poor maintenance, advances in craftsmanship..."

Ollivander didn't finish, but the pride on his face already betrayed his thoughts.

The wands he crafted now had surpassed all previous Ollivanders.

"Holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches long."

Ollivander directly handed over an open wand box. "I think... this should be the one."