"Ah?"
Hagrid and Harry stared, mouths open in surprise.
"What do you mean, 'ah'? I'm strong enough to hold on to Hagrid, and sitting up high is safer. Hagrid is even stronger than I am, so carrying me isn't difficult. This is the best solution!"
Dudley's reasoning had always been sound and well-supported.
"Oh, Dudley! You're a fine lad!"
Hagrid thought Dudley was considering Harry's safety. He admired him greatly and spared no praise.
Harry, meanwhile, believed that since his cousin had done this, he must have had his reasons. He should just do as he was told.
So Harry nimbly jumped into the cart, while Hagrid laboriously climbed inside.
As expected, the cart was completely filled.
Dudley's eyes flashed. After a short run-up and a leap, he grabbed Hagrid's elbow for leverage and landed perfectly on Hagrid's shoulder.
From this position, Dudley could secretly search the upper pockets of Hagrid's coat and shirt.
If everything went smoothly and no outsiders interfered, Dudley's "prince-for-a-raccoon" plan would be easily completed on the return trip after they retrieved the contents of the underground vaults.
"Hold on tight! We're setting off!"
Griphook gave them a warning, and the cart—with no power system whatsoever—shot down the twisting tracks.
"Ahhh—"
Harry and Dudley cried out excitedly. They thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of speeding through the darkness.
Hagrid didn't feel the same way. The cart lurched left and right so violently that he wanted to vomit, but Dudley had wrapped his arms tightly around his huge head, making him even dizzier.
As they sped toward the Gringotts Underground Vaults,
Dudley sat high up, shouting excitedly, yet his mind remained perfectly calm.
System, fuse three bags of Harry's magical blood! he gave the command through his thoughts.
[Command received! Consuming 1 D-rank Magic Item Fusion Opportunity.]
The three refrigerated blood packs tied tightly beneath Dudley's jacket, wrapped in tin foil and cotton, instantly shriveled. Every last drop of blood inside transformed into invisible, colorless light and merged into Dudley's body.
[Congratulations, Host!] [You have obtained Weak Wizard Bloodline!] [From this moment onward, you are no longer a Muggle. You have become a useless little wizard with no potential for growth, capable of learning at most five ordinary spells!] [You have obtained Weakened Mother's Love Protection!] [Now, Lily Potter's love and sacrifice can offer a little protection to her sister's son!] [Until the Host reaches adulthood, you may briefly withstand and reflect one instant-death attack. Both the damage blocked and reflected will equal eighty percent of the instant-death attack's power. By touching someone filled with murderous intent toward the Host, you may inflict backlash upon them. The backlash damage will equal half of their murderous intent.]
As the cart raced along at breakneck speed, Dudley felt a faint warm current envelop him. It was very pleasant.
At the same time, Dudley, having successfully obtained a Wizard Bloodline, experienced his first magical outburst of his life!
An extremely weak gust of air appeared and gave the speeding cart a tiny "push" from behind.
Then... there was no then.
It wasn't even as strong as Hagrid blowing hard!
How was that a magical outburst? It was clearly a magical squirm!
Dudley had expected this outcome, but he still couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed.
Fortunately, he had never placed his hopes of becoming stronger on Harry's blood in the first place.
Aboard the speeding rail cart, Dudley silently changed from a Muggle into a wizard, and neither Hagrid, Harry, nor Griphook noticed in the slightest.
Harry was still marveling at the stalactites of all sizes hanging above the underground passage, as well as the faint glimmers of flame in the distant darkness that seemed to come from a captive Fire Dragon.
Griphook was using Goblin magic to control the cart, while Hagrid was still nauseous and dizzy from all the jolting and swaying.
Everything was so harmonious.
Meanwhile, in a mysterious ancient castle far away, at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before term began, two ancient artifacts passed down for a thousand years had come into conflict.
"Professor Dumbledore! Professor Dumbledore! The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance are fighting!"
Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts's nominal deputy headmistress but actual working headmistress, hurried toward the Headmaster's Office.
After speaking the name of a bizarre sweet as the password, Professor McGonagall passed through the blockade of the statue at the entrance to the Headmaster's Office and met the greatest wizard of the twentieth century.
A white-haired old man with a long white beard and a crooked nose.
"Don't get so worked up, Minerva! Would you like a Fizzing Whizbee?" The wise old man always wrapped himself in childlike innocence.
"No, thank you, Dumbledore! Rather than eating sweets, I think you should come with me and see what's happening with the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance. They fought over a name!"
The diligent Professor McGonagall was clearly more practical.
A short while later, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall arrived at the place where the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance were kept.
By then, the dispute between the two ancient magical items had already subsided.
After sensing and investigating for a while, the Book of Admittance agreed to the Quill of Acceptance's request to write.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall watched helplessly as the Quill of Acceptance added a name to the end of the list of little wizards due to enroll that school year in the Book of Admittance:
Dudley Dursley.
"Dursley?! The Dursley household where Harry was placed?!"
Professor McGonagall looked utterly incredulous. "How could that be? If the child born to those harsh Muggle parents had potential, his name should have appeared in the Book of Admittance eleven years ago!"
Dumbledore's expression turned somewhat grave as well. Over the years, through Squibs among the Order of the Phoenix—Mrs. Figg, Mr. Diggle, and several other unofficial wizards—he had maintained a general understanding of the Dursley household's situation.
He knew Dudley Dursley to be an outstanding little Muggle with his own thoughts and attitudes, whose conduct often surpassed ordinary expectations.
For that reason, Dumbledore had even concealed himself and observed Dudley and Harry at close range during their daily lives at school and play.
Dumbledore could be one hundred percent certain that Dudley Dursley was not someone with wizarding talent. He was merely a curious little Muggle interested in wizards and mysticism.
In that respect, he was somewhat like his mother as a child.
But now...
"The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance are not damaged," Dumbledore said after sensing them. "And they have never made a mistake!"
"So... this little Dursley really changed from a Muggle into a wizard?!"
Professor McGonagall still could not believe it. This challenged everything she knew. Muggles could not become wizards; that belief was an iron law deeply rooted in the hearts of modern wizards.
"Hagrid sent me a letter. He arrived at the Dursley household last night and met Harry and Dudley. In Harry's previous reply, he said he wanted his cousin Dudley to accompany him while purchasing his school supplies.
At this hour, Hagrid should already have brought them to Diagon Alley. They may even have entered Gringotts."
Dumbledore analyzed the situation bit by bit.
A thought suddenly struck Professor McGonagall, and she came up with a guess. "Gringotts? Dumbledore, you sent Hagrid to retrieve that item? Could Dudley becoming a wizard be because of..."
"Minerva, do not tell anyone else about this. Let everyone assume that Dudley Dursley's name was written in the Book of Admittance eleven years ago! Now, I need to make a trip to Diagon Alley!"
After pondering for a moment, Dumbledore made his decision.
A fiery red bird answered the summons, flying from the Headmaster's Office and circling above Dumbledore's head.
The crooked-nosed old man in half-moon spectacles stretched both his old arms toward the sky and nimbly caught the Phoenix's talons.
The next instant, a spiral of fiery red light flashed.
The old man and the great bird both vanished.
Before you continue