The Weeping-with-Joy Dursley Trio

"I need to contact the [Misinformation Office], and they can directly contact the Prime Minister? Not the [Muggle Liaison Office] or the [Muggle Problem Mediation Committee]?"

"What? The [Misinformation Office] is under the [Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures], not the [Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes]!"

"The Department of Accidents is clearly responsible for dealing with Muggles... What? The [Misinformation Office] handles the most severe and extreme conflicts between magic and Muggles, and wizards count as magical creatures too?"

"Is Harry Potter's problem really that serious?"

"Why didn't anyone warn me before!"

Even with Dumbledore chewing up his words and feeding them like baby food, Fudge was still somewhat dazed.

Dumbledore wasn't surprised by this. Fudge had become Minister only because of him.

The purebloods needed a stupid, weak, easily manipulated mascot.

The wizarding public needed a mouthpiece for Dumbledore.

And the Ministry employees needed a boss who was easy to fool.

Dumbledore still spoke patiently, "How about this—I'll go directly to the [Misinformation Office] and talk to them?"

Fudge was silent for nearly a minute. After repeatedly failing to connect [contacting the Prime Minister of mere Muggles] with [stealing his own Minister position], he squeezed out a smile. "That would be for the best. Just say it was all my orders."

With that, believing he had asserted his authority as Minister and also snatched Dumbledore's achievement, he lifted his head with a hint of pride.

Hagrid lifted his head with a hint of pride. "I came to get Harry because I'm the person Dumbledore trusts most!"

[Quest [Go to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies] (10 EXP)]

Staring at the newly popped-up quest, a glimmer of hope flickered in Harry's eyes.

—How easy, just one trip to Diagon Alley. Maybe all future tasks in the wizarding world will be like this! The current pain is only temporary!

At this moment, he completely forgot that he had already evolved past the need for sleep, and his daily training quests filled nearly every hour.

He also forgot to mock Hagrid's words.

He just nodded repeatedly.

"Sorry, Harry. I forgot to bring your Hogwarts letter, but no matter—I remember exactly what supplies you need."

The Hagrid who had been puffing out his chest a second ago immediately deflated.

A flicker of doubt crossed Vernon's, and even Dudley's, eyes about "the person Dumbledore trusts most."

"Blast it, I left my—"

Hagrid finally remembered the little pink umbrella he'd left behind at Hogwarts, the one hiding his wand.

At the Ministry, he was still a suspect in Myrtle's death, without the right to use a wand. His broken wand had only been repaired by Dumbledore so he could use it on the sly.

An eagle's cry rang out from inside the house.

"The short-statured poop-scooper is always so scatterbrained. I'm used to it (Eagle-speak)."

On the floor so polished it reflected the ceiling, on the carpet without a speck of dust, stood Buckbeak the hippogriff, his sharp talons and feet caked with mud.

Petunia, with her cleanliness obsession, and Vernon, who rejected anything miraculous or abnormal, both pretended not to see it.

Over these four years, Harry had trained them well.

In the black-hearted book's perception, they were also Harry's retainers.

In this room, where not a single speck of dust appeared—cleaner than a sterile lab—after surviving four years with Harry, the greatest abnormality of all, they all desperately craved noisy environments and interactions with rude, impolite people.

They wished the floor was covered in footprints, the carpet had a hole, the kitchen sink wasn't polished like silver, the stove and oven doors weren't so mirror-bright—more traces of daily life, food scraps.

Now, they welcomed Buckbeak with open arms.

"Does the little fella need something to eat? There's plenty of fresh meat in the fridge!" Vernon's eyes were full of affection, as if the giant beast before him was Dudley, and the sofa being pecked wasn't theirs.

"Ha~" Hagrid was even more pleased with the Dursleys. "That old bat Figg must not know wizards very well. When I was little, I loved running and jumping around, and I'd hoist my old dad over my head every now and then. He loved sitting on my shoulders."

At that, Hagrid, who had just been beaming, reddened his eyes again and started sobbing like a little child.

"We should get going," Harry urged gently.

"Could you stay a little longer?" Vernon spoke for the Dursley family, practically wishing Hagrid and his giant beast would spend the night—no, live there until the end of time.

Dudley directly brought out a basin of fresh beef and set it in front of Buckbeak.

"You're all such good people!" Hagrid pulled out a rag to wipe his eyes. He had never been welcomed like this before.

"We'll be back from London soon," Harry said gently again.

Dudley nearly stumbled. Harry's gentle tone sounded like a demon's voice in his ears. He vividly remembered that every time Harry made him "volunteer" to train together, he said the same thing.

Dudley cast a mournful glance at himself and his parents' sleek, muscular physiques. He swore that once Harry left, he would eat his way back to a double chin and a potbelly!

This was the result of Harry reverse-training the black-hearted book: "How can the Chosen One bloom alone? He should make those around him excellent too!"

On the Dursleys, Harry's [Healing Fist] had even turned silver.

"At least leave the little fella behind." Vernon, whose burly, round face had become chiseled, looked at Buckbeak.

Petunia, whose arms were nearly as thick as an ordinary man's thighs, nodded in agreement.

Hagrid hesitated for a moment, but after seeing Buckbeak devouring his meal with gusto, he lowered his guard. "That works too. I was just worrying about how to handle the journey. The wizards at the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley aren't as open-minded as your good family."

"We'll take good care of him!" x3

The family wept for joy.

Hagrid, carrying hope, walked out of the Dursleys' front door with Harry.

The next moment, Harry crouched down into a starting stance. "Destination... Charing Cross Road, route... A3 Road Corridor, Lambeth Bridge, Victoria Street, Whitehall, Trafalgar Square... approximately... 48 kilometers, at about 13.3 meters per second, I can arrive in one hour."

"Harry, Harry, what are you doing!"

Hagrid stumbled along Trafalgar Square, chasing the figure of Harry ahead, drawing stares from passersby.

Even with his giant bloodline, speed was not his strong suit.

They were nearly at the finish line now, only 600 meters from Charing Cross Road.

He wanted to stop—he had just passed Whitehall, and the Ministry of Magic was underground. If Dumbledore was still around, he could go find him.

But Harry showed no sign of stopping, his face not flushed, his breath not labored. His superhuman pace seemed like nothing more than a light jog to him.

"We're here."

Harry stopped on a bustling street lined with shops and crowded with people.

In the past, the Black Heart Book had never allowed him near this place—Charing Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron stood, the entrance to Diagon Alley.

[Savior Lord, you have displayed noble character along the way, guiding a friend from the magical world to the sights of the Muggle world...]

[Custom quest [Run to Charing Cross Road] completed. Experience +1... [Running] [Breathing] [Mathematics] [Geography] proficiency +1... Merged into [Literature and Sports Both Bloom]... Proficiency +0.1]

"Finally... it's over." Hagrid panted heavily.