"I need to contact the Misinformation Office so they can get in touch with the Prime Minister directly? Isn't that what the Muggle Liaison Office and the Muggle Problem Mediation Committee are for?"
"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 Accidents Department is the one that's supposed to deal with Muggles... What? The Misinformation Office handles the most serious, extreme conflicts between magic and Muggles? Wizards are magical creatures too?"
"Is Harry Potter's situation really that serious?"
"Why did nobody tell me before!"
Even after Dumbledore had explained it carefully, Fudge still seemed rather bewildered at being treated like a child.
Dumbledore wasn't surprised. Fudge had become Minister because of him.
The Pure-bloods needed a foolish, weak, easily controlled figurehead.
The people of the Wizarding World needed a mouthpiece for Dumbledore.
The Ministry of Magic's employees needed a boss who was easy to fool, too.
Dumbledore continued patiently, "How about this? I'll go straight to the Misinformation Office and speak to them."
Fudge was silent for nearly a minute. After repeatedly failing to connect contacting the Prime Minister—a mere Muggle—with someone trying to take his position as Minister, he forced a smile. "That would be perfect. Just tell them it was all on my orders."
Having said that, he imagined he'd displayed the Minister's authority and taken credit for Dumbledore's efforts. He raised his chin, feeling rather proud of himself.
Hagrid raised his chin with some pride. "I'm here to collect Harry because I'm the person Dumbledore trusts most!"
[Task: [Go to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies] (10 experience points)]
Harry's eyes gleamed with hope as he looked at the newly appeared task.
How easy! I just have to go to Diagon Alley. Maybe all the tasks in the Wizarding World will be like this! The suffering I'm going through now is only temporary!
At that moment, he completely forgot that he'd already evolved beyond the need for sleep, and that his daily training tasks filled nearly all twenty-four hours.
He even forgot to comment on Hagrid's words.
He just nodded eagerly.
"Sorry, Harry. I forgot to bring your letter of admission, but it's all right. I remember every single thing you'll need."
A moment ago, Hagrid had been standing tall and proud. Now he slumped.
A trace of doubt flashed in Vernon's eyes, and even Dudley's, at the claim that Hagrid was "the person Dumbledore trusts most."
"Oh no, my wand—"
Hagrid finally remembered the little pink umbrella he'd left behind at Hogwarts. His wand was hidden inside it.
At the Ministry of Magic, he was still a suspect in Moaning Myrtle's death and wasn't allowed to use a wand. The wand that had been snapped in half had only become usable again after Dumbledore repaired it, and even then Hagrid had to sneak around with it.
An eagle's cry rang out from inside the house.
"The short house-elf is always forgetting things. I'm used to it by now. (Eagle Speech)"
Buckbeak stood on the carpet, so spotless it had no trace of dust, with sharp talons and mud caked on his feet. The polished floor reflected the ceiling perfectly.
Petunia, a neat freak, and Vernon, who couldn't stand anything unusual or miraculous, both pretended not to see him.
After four years, they'd gotten used to Harry's training, too.
As far as the Black-hearted Book was concerned, they were Harry's followers as well.
After living for four years in a room without a speck of dust, cleaner than a sterile lab, alongside Harry, the most abnormal person of all, they desperately yearned for noisy surroundings and for company that was rude and didn't bother with manners.
They wanted footprints all over the floor, a hole in the carpet, a kitchen sink that didn't look silver-plated, and a stove and oven door that weren't so polished they reflected everything. They wanted more signs of life—smoke stains and food scraps.
Now, they welcomed Buckbeak with open arms.
"Does the little fellow need something to eat? There's plenty of fresh meat in the fridge!" Vernon's eyes brimmed with affection, as if the beast before him were Dudley and it wasn't their own sofa that had been pecked apart.
"Ha!" Hagrid was even more pleased with the Dursleys. "That old woman, Figg, must not know much about wizards. I liked running around and jumping about when I was a kid, too. I used to lift my old dad over my head all the time. He loved sitting on my shoulders."
As he spoke, Hagrid's cheerful expression crumpled. His eyes reddened again, and he began sobbing like a child.
"Shouldn't we get going?" Harry prompted gently.
"Couldn't you stay a little longer?" Vernon spoke for the whole Dursley family. He would have loved Hagrid and his beast to spend the night in their house. No—to stay forever.
Dudley brought out a bowl of fresh beef and held it in front of Buckbeak.
"You're all such good people!" Hagrid wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. He'd never been welcomed like this before.
"It won't take long to get to London and back," Harry said gently again.
Dudley nearly stumbled. Harry's gentle tone sounded like a demon's voice to him. He remembered all too well that Harry had said the same thing whenever he coaxed Dudley into training with him.
Dudley glanced miserably at himself and at the sleek lines of muscle on his parents. He swore that once Harry left, he'd eat his way back to a double chin and a potbelly!
That was the result of Harry turning the Black-hearted Book's lessons on their head: "How could the Savior shine alone? He should help the people around him become outstanding, too!"
Harry's Healing Fist had even reached the silver level through training on the Dursleys.
"Couldn't you at least leave the little fellow here?" Vernon, once a burly man with a round, broad face but now as sharply defined as if carved by a knife and axe, looked at Buckbeak.
Petunia nodded in agreement, her arms nearly as thick as most people's thighs.
Hagrid hesitated for a moment, but when he saw Buckbeak devouring his food, he relaxed. "That might be best. I was wondering how I'd manage on the way. The wizards at the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley aren't as open-minded as you good people."
"We'll take good care of him!" x3
The family wept with joy.
Hagrid set off with Harry, brimming with anticipation, and walked out of the Dursleys' front door.
The next moment, Harry crouched down into a sprinter's stance. "Destination... Charing Cross Road. Route... via the A3 Road Corridor, Lambeth Bridge, Victoria Street, Whitehall, Trafalgar Square... Approximately... 48 kilometers. At about 13.3 meters per second, I can get there in an hour."
"Harry, Harry, what are you doing?!"
Hagrid stumbled as he ran through Trafalgar Square, chasing after Harry's figure ahead of him and drawing stares from passersby.
Even with Giant blood in his veins, speed wasn't his strong suit.
They'd nearly run the whole way. Charing Cross Road was only 600 meters away.
He badly wanted to stop. They'd just passed Whitehall, and the Ministry of Magic was underground there. If Dumbledore was still around, they could go see him.
But Harry showed no sign of slowing down. He wasn't even red in the face or out of breath. His speed, beyond that of an ordinary person, seemed no more than a jog to him.
"We're here."
Harry stopped on a bustling street lined with shops and crowded with people.
Charing Cross Road—the place the Black-hearted Book had never let him near—where the Leaky Cauldron stood, and where the entrance to Diagon Alley was.
[Savior Lord, on your way here, you displayed noble character and guided your friends from the Wizarding World to the sights of the Muggle World...]
[Custom task [Run to Charing Cross Road] completed. Experience +1...[Running][Breathing][Mathematics][Geography] proficiency +1... Merged into [Literature and Sports Both Bloom]... Proficiency +0.1]
"It's finally... over." Hagrid panted heavily.
Before you continue