Voldemort Decides to Strike the Podium

"Disgusting. Even the Minister of Magic has to ride Harry's fame," Hermione snorted coldly. "Dumbledore really is useless as a headmaster. He just lets all these shady people onto campus."

"Hey, Tonks is my cousin," Draco said, catching her veiled jab.

"Annoying. Now the Daily Prophet has practically turned into an academic journal. What's worst is I actually like it," Ron said, flipping a page. "'Spider Walk: hold a live spider in your mouth...' Disgusting. You can climb walls with this..."

His heart stirred for a moment—this was like walking on walls just like Harry.

"You can wait a bit longer and pick one that doesn't require eating a spider," Neville said. "Right now, almost the entire wizarding world is simplifying spells to imitate Harry's special abilities—super strength, anti-gravity walking—all to get into the papers and eventually have their name and spell included in Modern Magical History."

"This one's not bad. 'Slick Feet': just carry a bottle of oil, and the incantation is simple—just point your wand diagonally downward," Draco said, starting to flip through the paper too. "Makes your opponent lose their footing and fall flat."

"I recommend this one: 'Glide Spell,'" Ron suggested. "Only problem is it wastes umbrellas."

In most cases, the materials used to lower spellcasting conditions were destroyed once the spell's effect wore off, impossible to reuse and hard to fix with a Repairing Charm.

In severe cases, they would vanish outright, as if hit by a Vanishing Spell.

"Then you might as well learn 'Feather Fall'—just needs a single bird feather," Hermione rolled her eyes. "If it's a phoenix tail feather, you can even reuse it."

"But that only makes you lighter. It's not gliding," Ron countered.

Everything happening in the library was just a microcosm of the entire wizarding world.

In the staff room.

"I think Hogwarts should try admitting Squibs. Some of them might be able to pass the 'Eschew Materials' hurdle and become real witches and wizards," proposed Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff.

"And become mediocre wizards?" Snape shook his head. "We should acknowledge the gap in talent. Yes, magic can grow with training, and Squibs simply lacked the methods before. But if someone struggles just to step through the door of magic, how can they go further? That would be true cruelty."

"We mustn't give them false hope, create an illusion for them."

"Let's stick to academic topics," Professor Flitwick interrupted. "For example, using everlasting Gubraithian Fire as the material for the Fire-Making Charm."

"Transfiguration simplification is much easier," Professor McGonagall said. "If you want to transfigure a needle, use a needle as the material. But this only works for basic transfiguration, small-scale changes. A palm-sized animal is easy as material, but something a bit larger like a hedgehog or a wild boar—"

"Forgive me, Minerva," Professor Sprout cut in. "That's already Advanced Class material. Not every wizard can take Advanced Class."

In Hogsmeade, adjacent to Hogwarts, inside the Hog's Head Inn, a merchant with half his face wrapped in bandages pulled out a palm-sized metal box.

"This is the Magic Box. It's enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm and stocked with all common spellcasting materials on the market."

"With this, you're as good as a qualified wizard."

London, Knockturn Alley, inside the newly renovated Borgin and Burkes.

The display cabinets were filled with nothing but accessories, making it look like a jewelry store, with no more Dark Magic artifacts inside.

A ruby ring that seemed to burn with flame sat beneath a label:

Reusable spellcasting material—a blessing for fire-type spells.

Office of the Minister of Magic.

Fudge frowned at a piece of parchment while Umbridge stood nervously to the side.

"'Super Cleaning Charm,' a reusable high-grade spellcasting material—Mrs. Scour's All-Purpose Wonder Cleaner. Dolores Umbridge, this is going under my name. What kind of rubbish spell did you simplify?!"

"Do you want everyone to think I'm a housewife?"

"Minister," Umbridge quickly explained. "The Cleaning Charm is one of Harry Potter's commonly used spells, and... Mrs. Scour's All-Purpose Wonder Cleaner is a well-known brand. They're willing to provide over 100,000 Galleons in sponsorship."

"And besides, letting people think I enjoy housework makes me seem more approachable."

Fudge adjusted his tie.

"It's settled."

"When I arrive at Hogwarts, I'll introduce both myself and my 'Mrs. Scour's Cleaning Charm.'"

"The Minister of Magic is coming to Hogwarts?"

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts Office, the Steam Figure snorted coldly.

"Quirinus, don't you think... Harry Potter is becoming more and more dangerous?"

"Dumbledore is preparing to cultivate a younger, stronger version of himself who understands Muggle technology."

"If this continues, when the world speaks my name again, it will only be as Harry Potter's defeated foe."

"I've decided. I will reveal myself. I will use Potter's life as the salute to my return!"

—Master, are you sane?

Quirinus was increasingly doubting whether the moon's magic was just making Voldemort more deranged.

A seemingly rational derangement.

He even began to miss the old master who punished him and drained his life force at every turn.

"Master... but our strength..." he reminded cautiously.

If they truly made a move, it was more likely that they would be shattered by a single punch from the terrifying Savior.

"Then let Harry Potter keep his dog's life!" The moon-white steam began to churn. "I'll reluctantly set my sights on Cornelius Fudge instead. The British Minister of Magic barely qualifies as worthy of my status."

"Quirinus, you will—"

"Master, we still need to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Quirrell reminded him again.

He was much bolder now. Sometimes, he even had the illusion that he himself was Lord Voldemort's master.

"As expected of you, Quirinus, always so meticulous." The Steam Figure's voice was gentle. "Then you won't need to act. I alone am enough. To expose you for the sake of a mere Fudge—Dumbledore would surely laugh at me if he knew."

"Yes."

—Tom, weren't we already exposed?

Quirrell shuddered.

—No, Master.

—Thankfully, Master isn't on my head right now.

Quirrell skillfully employed Occlumency, sealing away his irreverent thoughts.

Over the past month, he felt his Occlumency had advanced by leaps and bounds.

Harry knew nothing of Voldemort's schemes.

The Dogskin Book had not generated a quest to save Fudge.

Gatekeeper Grandpa Fei's quest had long been completed, as simplified magic became a trend.

Now, Squibs only worried about having too much magic to learn.

Some Squibs, cast out of the magical world by their families, had been welcomed back.

As long as they had a powerful magical substance like a phoenix tail feather, a suitable simplified spell, and a wand, it was enough to disguise a Squib as a qualified wizard.

He was now hesitating, uncertain whether to update his title.