Foolish Fudge

Harry, who had lost his real name, looked bewildered.

He recognized the newcomer.

Half a body taller than him and three times as wide, it could only be Hagrid.

But... had the Wizarding World stopped caring about the International Statute of Secrecy?

I can get away with it because the Black-hearted Book messes with people's perceptions. But you, Hagrid—you didn't even bring your wand. What makes you think you can?

With a piercing eagle cry, Hagrid landed.

Cracking his knuckles, his tiny black eyes, like those of a beetle, glared at Number Four, Privet Drive, which looked completely out of place beside the surrounding houses. "So clean... cleaner than a house-elf's... You people dare treat Harry like this? Get your father out here—"

Harry was doing high knees, alternating between lifting one leg and the other.

His upper body wasn't idle either. He held both arms out at shoulder height, because it earned him extra points.

Four years had passed, and Harry had been thoroughly molded by the Black-hearted Book.

If Hagrid hadn't suddenly appeared, Harry would've been practicing Healing Fist with one hand and Deadly Palm with the other.

"Harry?"

Hagrid finally spotted the scar on Harry's forehead.

He tried desperately to find signs that Harry had been mistreated, but all he found were perfectly defined muscles, a shirt made of good-quality fabric, jeans, and shoes.

And a perfectly pleasant smile that remained in place even as Harry exercised.

"The Dursleys may have mistreated you, but it looks like they haven't skimped on your food or clothes. They've raised you well, too." Some of the anger visibly drained from Hagrid.

"You're a wizard? What about Dumbledore?" Harry's voice remained steady as he exercised.

"They didn't keep the Wizarding World a secret from you—"

"They didn't." Harry cut Hagrid off. "You didn't know Dumbledore had been here?"

"Dumbledore was busy going to the Ministry of Magic. The letter he left... I saw it said you were living like a house-elf, so I hurried over on Buckbeak. Good thing I still know the way. When I brought you here eleven years ago, you weren't even as big as a Niffler."

"From Hogwarts all the way here?" Only then did Harry notice the frost on Hagrid's beard and hair.

"Buckbeak's a strong lad. Took us less than an hour."

Hearing that, Harry was touched, but also quietly astonished. Math and Geography linked up automatically... from the Scottish Highlands to Surrey, near London... latitude 57.4778°N, longitude 4.2247°W—latitude 51.2362°N, longitude 0.5746°W.

The straight-line distance was about... 430 miles (692 kilometers).

At that rate, Buckbeak's speed was almost as fast as a Boeing 737—and he was carrying Hagrid, too.

The Firebolt only reached 150 miles per hour.

Harry looked at Buckbeak's gray wings.

The wings of a Hippogriff...

Though they couldn't match Voldemort's freakish top speed of 3,800 kilometers per hour when he flew in a fit of rage—fast enough to go from the South Pole to the North Pole in seven or eight hours, 1.3 times faster than a MiG-31 supersonic fighter jet—they'd still be nice to draw.

[The Savior Lord is brimming with fighting spirit. He has encountered a key figure in the Intermediate Training Quest and fulfilled the unlock conditions.]

[Side quest issued... [Speed King of Flight] (100 experience points, 1 Golden Affix draw)]

[Gain the ability to fly within one year of entering the Wizarding World. Rewards will be issued based on the nemesis [Voldemort]'s top flight speed.]

Surpass Voldemort within a year? What about beating him in a strength contest? I wouldn't mind.

Harry imagined turning Voldemort into a little pancake.

[The Savior Lord is advised to abandon thoughts of taking shortcuts and steadily surpass his nemesis.]

[New [Diplomacy] target detected—Buckbeak. Side quest issued... [Hippogriff Is Also an Eagle]]

[Try using [Horse Speech] and [Eagle Speech] to communicate with him (10 experience points).]

Harry was already used to the side quest pop-ups and voice prompts that appeared from time to time. He kept smiling as he raised his knees, executing the movement perfectly according to the Black-hearted Book's requirements.

Daily quests simply didn't carry as much weight as side quests.

This was just what he needed right now.

Harry abruptly stopped moving, interrupting his daily quest.

Under Hagrid's puzzled gaze, he walked toward Buckbeak with a smile and let out a clear eagle cry. "Hello. (Eagle Speech)"

"You can speak our language. (Eagle Speech)" Buckbeak replied.

[...Quest complete. Received 10 experience points.]

Inside the house, the Dursleys watched through the window, their faces drained of color.

"Mom, Harry's gone crazy again." Dudley was trembling.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's magic. In fairy tales, princesses can talk to animals. Everyone knows that." Petunia forced herself to sound encouraging. As the family's foremost expert on magic, she had to stand tall in front of her husband and son.

"Why wasn't it Dumbledore who came?" Vernon stroked his shotgun. "That giant rode over here on a monster. Surely lots of people saw him."

"Dumbledore! Lots of people saw a Hippogriff fly through a Muggle town! One of your people was riding it, too." Minister for Magic Fudge pushed open the door.

He was dressed strangely, wearing a green Muggle suit beneath a garish wizard's robe.

Though he sounded accusatory, he seemed a little more bluster than bite.

"I arranged it," Dumbledore said calmly from inside the Memory Erasure Command office.

He held no official power at the Ministry of Magic, yet he seemed to be the master of the place. The staff around him instinctively followed his instructions.

"Oh... I see. I'm sure you had your reasons." Fudge's fat face twisted into a smile.

"The most urgent thing now is to give Harry a suitable reason to disappear from the Muggle World for a while each year." Dumbledore stood up. "UKMT-JMO champion, star player representing the ISA Cup—Harry shines just as brightly in the ordinary world. Almost no one in Britain doesn't know his name. He's exceeded my expectations."

A flicker of confusion crossed Fudge's fat face. He glanced at the staff who kept appearing from and disappearing into the green flames in the fireplace. "Couldn't Pisgood and the others handle it? All you need to do is send a letter. You don't have to come in person."

He was wary of Dumbledore being at the Ministry, though he tried his hardest to hide it.

Dumbledore sighed. "They can't do it on their own. The last time we altered memories on a large scale in this country was in the nineteenth century, when we built Platform 9 3/4 in central London and requisitioned a train from the Muggle World."

"Do you think I'm not as capable as Evangeline Orpington?" A flash of humiliation crossed Fudge's foolish face. "She was the most accomplished Minister for Magic, and she solved the problem of wizards traveling by train."

"She was Queen Victoria's friend. The Ministry then had 457 employees on its payroll. Now there are only 278." Dumbledore turned his face away. "With all due respect, most of the Ministry's current employees, aside from front-line workers like the Aurors, can't even cast a decent Shield Charm. Let alone Obliviate."

Obliviate wasn't simply about deleting memories. It also involved rebuilding and altering them, and placed high demands on the person casting it.

Fudge had only heard Dumbledore say how many employees the Ministry now had.

I didn't even know that, but he does. Dumbledore must be eyeing my job as Minister for Magic.

The suspicion on his face grew even more obvious. Even Arnold Pisgood, who had just returned from Devon after modifying the memories of a tour group of Muggles—they'd encountered a Welsh Green Dragon, and one of them had broken his leg—and was still bleary-eyed with sleep, noticed it.

Dumbledore naturally noticed, too. But he had extraordinary patience and endurance, and enough wisdom to deal with foolish people.

"This is your chance to surpass Evangeline Orpington."

"Really?" Fudge immediately forgot to be wary.

Perhaps he'd remember again one day, but his own intelligence would force him to seek Dumbledore's help, and then he'd forget his suspicion once more. The cycle would continue.

This had happened many times already.

Everyone in the office believed it would keep happening until Fudge's term ended.