Support me and be 20 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/Draco_
******
It seems that the Ministry of Magic has no way to deal with Harry, the troublesome kid. After sending him several letters, the Ministry's Office for the Prohibition of Magic Abuse eventually gave up. They haven't sent Harry any more letters since.
To be honest, if it were anyone else, they might already be facing an Auror at their door for a chat. However, when dealing with a little demon king who has all his buffs stacked, even the head of the Ministry, Cornelius Fudge, has given in, and the lower-level staff simply pretend not to see it.
The adult world is full of people backing down, compromising, and exchanging interests. When it comes to Sirius Black, the tough stances taken by Dumbledore and Grindelwald led to a series of consequences, leaving anyone connected to Sirius a troublesome mess no one in the Ministry wants to deal with.
The Ministry of Magic has already buried the deaths of four people. Those unlucky enough not to return the Black family fortune have all ended up dead in their own homes, claimed to have suicided. There's no such thing as a Death Eater Party; England's wizarding world has never had any strange-armor-wearing, deathly-mark-bearing executioners.
It's not a violation if a young wizard spends their holidays not wasting time playing, but instead diligently practicing magic and studying at home! If Fudge weren't so busy lately, he would have probably come to personally deliver a "Self-disciplined, Diligent, and Studious" banner.
After the 'ghost' incident at home was resolved, Dudley finally managed to sleep peacefully. A couple of days later, his aunt and uncle returned from a business trip to France, carrying bags of gifts. They were in high spirits, sharing their joy with the family. Uncle Vernon had signed two major drilling contracts this month, and if everything went smoothly, the Dursleys would take another solid step forward in the middle-class ranks.
"You've only been back a week, Harry, and now you're leaving again?"
Aunt Petunia looked at Harry, who was devouring his food at the table, and affectionately patted his head.
"I'll be back for Christmas, and I won't forget to have Hedwig deliver a letter to you. Besides, there's still one more day, right? I'm going to Diagon Alley to buy some books. Would you like to come with me?"
Diagon Alley allows young wizards from Muggle families to bring their parents along, making it one of the few semi-public wizarding areas for Muggles.
"We can go too?!"
Dudley, still chewing on half a meat pie, suddenly looked up, staring at Harry in disbelief.
"Of course. Just don't tell anyone else. The wizarding world still keeps things secret from ordinary people, but as my family, you're fine."
"Unless you accidentally blurt something out while sleep-talking, then an Auror might suddenly appear and modify your memory."
"Ugh~" Dudley made a face of disgust. "Modify memories? You wizards are really... evil."
"That's why we need to stay separate from people who don't know magic. Otherwise, trouble is bound to happen."
Harry shrugged. The advantage of magic over ordinary people is just too great, especially when it comes to keeping things secret.
"To be honest, the wizarding world isn't as great as you think. At least in England, we don't keep using outdated rules from over a century ago to manage today's society, while the Ministry of Magic can't even be bothered to update its regulations."
"What's the impact of that?" Dudley asked, puzzled.
"For example, if the laws were still based on rules from a few hundred years ago..." Harry pointed to the garden outside. "There'd be some black people picking cotton out there."
"Pfft~ cough, cough" Dudley turned bright red from choking.
"I'm not making it up. The wizarding world in England still lives in the medieval era. If it weren't for needing to buy books, I wouldn't even bother going to Diagon Alley. Can you imagine a pub with a floor that hasn't been cleaned in at least a decade? And if we want to go there, we have to walk across that sticky floor and enter through a door next to a trash can to get to that medieval-style shopping street."
"Everything's at least three centuries old. There's definitely a sense of history there."
Harry didn't hesitate to tear away part of the mysterious veil surrounding the wizarding world. After finishing breakfast, Uncle Vernon, who had been promoted and was now busy with a pile of work, apologized for not being able to join them. So, Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed Harry toward central London.
Though Harry was driving without a license, he wasn't worried about getting pulled over by the police. He was now nearly six feet three inches tall, having grown eight inches in a year after eating who-knows-how-many magical creature meats and drinking all sorts of potions for strength. With his bronze-colored muscles, some people would believe he was 22 years old.
With his massive biceps resting on the window, even a 200-300-pound police officer in London wouldn't dare approach a one-handed, driving Harry for questioning.
"We're here."
After parking the car, Harry led them to the side of a music store and pointed to the empty wall ahead.
"There's a door here?"
Dudley, with a suspicious look, reached out and touched the hard wall.
"Just a bit of subtle magic," Harry smiled at his cousin, then opened the worn oak door of the Leaky Cauldron.
Upon entering the dimly lit space, both Dudley and Petunia instinctively looked around, but the dilapidated state of the place quickly killed their interest. The Leaky Cauldron looked the same as it had the previous year, with a few scattered patrons drinking and smoking. The shabby bar and the equally shabby customers matched perfectly.
Petunia, who had a clean freak's temperament, turned pale the moment she stepped onto the sticky floor. She immediately regretted it.
"I think I'll wait outside," she said weakly, covering her mouth to keep from gagging. The magical world she once dreamed of had completely shattered at this moment.
"Want to check out Diagon Alley first? It's much cleaner in there."
After hesitating for a moment and sighing, Petunia shook her head gently. "I'm not a witch anyway. Forget it. Let Dudley go with you."
"I'll go to the mall outside and buy you two new outfits. You've grown so much this year, the ones in your wardrobe won't fit anymore."
She lovingly patted Harry's head, then left through the still open door without looking back.
"Mom ran away scared."
Dudley shrugged, somewhat speechless, but he knew that his mother had a bit of a cleanliness obsession. Even he himself felt a bit uncomfortable with the strange, soft sensation underfoot, so he could only imagine how she must feel.
"Well, let's hurry up and get back, so Aunt Petunia doesn't have to wait too long," Dudley suggested.
The walls to the side shifted apart, revealing a wide path. Upon seeing this, Dudley's impression of the magical world improved slightly, and the scene outside the brick archway looked just as Harry had described.
As he walked down the ancient street, Dudley took in the surroundings with interest. However, after the initial excitement of magic wore off, the crowded commercial street began to look pretty ordinary. Aside from the Quidditch shop, which was still a bit of a novelty, he was starting to feel bored as he followed Harry around buying various supplies. "Hey, Harry! Do wizards really have celebrity crushes too?"
After leaving a shop that sold magical supplies and potion ingredients, Dudley pointed to a crowd gathered in front of the Leaky Cauldron and asked curiously, "What's going on over there?"
"Uh... I guess so?" Harry responded, glancing at the large magical banner hanging above the shop. He had deliberately chosen the last day of his break to visit Diagon Alley, hoping to avoid any unwanted encounters.
Harry had really hoped that Professor Remus Lupin would be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts that year, instead of Gilderoy Lockhart. But the position had a long history of trouble. Although Grindelwald had taught the class without incident for an entire year, he was still... Grindelwald. The most powerful Dark wizard in Europe, who was very much alive. In contrast, Voldemort, though cruel, was dead, so the curse on the position only affected those who were alive to suffer it.
Hogwarts had a long-standing tradition of losing one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor each year, and it had been like this for decades. People joked that even someone like Grindelwald couldn't last, so maybe the curse was even worse now.
It was no wonder that Dumbledore had to select from the shortest of candidates for the job. The people willing to work for the salary—500 Galleons a month—were rarely competent. Most of them had been whittled down by the many years of danger, leaving only a few misfits hoping to die in the position and sue Hogwarts for compensation.
The charming and famous bestselling author, Gilderoy Lockhart, stood out as the most plausible candidate. He was more interested in fame than money, and his past as a "traveler" had earned him some credibility.
Although Dumbledore knew that there were issues with Lockhart's books, at least he could rely on the fact that Lockhart wouldn't ruin his reputation for the sake of fame. Given this hope, Dumbledore had chosen him as this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts? I'll just learn it myself," Harry muttered as he noticed Lockhart glimmering in the crowd. "Once I figure out what's going on with the Awakened, I'm transferring to Durmstrang. I can't stand being at this rotten school anymore."
As Harry, now towering over most of the crowd, prepared to push through, a sudden shout rang out from the front. Lockhart, seeing Harry's scar, jumped up and called out, "Isn't this Harry Potter?!"
As a fame-hunter, Lockhart was willing to teach at Hogwarts just for the opportunity to meet Harry. After all, Harry was the Boy Who Lived, England's savior. If Lockhart had known Harry was at school last year, he would have sent his job application a year earlier. The sooner he could latch onto Harry's fame, the better.
Lockhart had carefully planned it all out—his dream was to become a world-renowned celebrity. The book signing at Flourish and Blotts was just a cover to sell his books under the guise of teaching at Hogwarts. But more importantly, he wanted to "accidentally" bump into Harry, grab him for a photo, and announce to the world that he was Harry Potter's teacher. After all, the Daily Prophet reached far more readers than The Wizarding Weekly, and this could land him on the front page.
The crowd parted to make way as Lockhart eagerly approached, but Harry was simply too strong for him to pull toward him. Lockhart struggled but couldn't budge Harry, who didn't even flinch.
"Ahahaha," Lockhart laughed awkwardly, his face flushed with embarrassment. He quickly regained his composure, flashing a bright smile. "I'm sure you're here to buy my books!"
"This is wonderful," Lockhart continued enthusiastically, "I know you—"
"Uh? Uh? Uh?"
Before Lockhart could continue, Harry interrupted, ignoring him and walking straight ahead. With Harry walking away, Lockhart's self-congratulatory chatter made him look even more like a fool.
"Looks like our Harry Potter is a bit shy," Lockhart said with a charming smile, as if trying to play it off.
"Wandering with Werewolves," Harry remarked, glancing at a pile of Lockhart's books on the counter.
"Ah, so this is the one you like!" Lockhart beamed, immediately grabbing the book and preparing to hand it to Harry. He was eager to continue riding Harry's coattails. At the same time, he signaled to a photographer standing nearby to snap some pictures.
"No, what I mean is, I could punch a werewolf to death in one blow," Harry said, giving a chilling smile that made Lockhart's scalp tingle.
"Wh-what? You must be joking."
"No, I'm serious." Harry gestured toward the other books on the counter. "Ghouls, ghosts, banshees, vampires, werewolves—you've written about all these creatures. I guarantee I can punch every one of them to death. The Yeti might be a little tougher, but I'd still beat it in a few minutes. A troll would be too strong for me, but with a simple Confundus Charm, it would knock itself out."
The crowd, which had been murmuring excitedly, fell silent. They were now questioning their understanding of the world.
"You should face something more challenging," Harry said with a kind smile, patting Lockhart's shoulder. Harry, now able to hit over half a ton of weight with a punch, didn't even hold back, and Lockhart crumpled onto the floor with a soft thud.
"These little creatures are meant for kids," Harry added nonchalantly. "Sorry, but I'm not interested in your storybooks."
Lockhart glanced at the new book he was trying to sell, but it was clear he wasn't as skilled in dealing with these "little creatures" as he made out.
"Let's go, Dudley. We'll buy the textbooks, and then get some snacks. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans are amazing—you've got to try them."
Click, click, click.
The flashes of the camera filled the air as the photographer excitedly captured the moment, clicking away at the chaos. The journalists, already buzzing with excitement, had already come up with their headlines!
"Shocking! Bestselling author Gilderoy Lockhart and the Boy Who Lived—what they have to say!"
"Is he a kindergarten killer or a brave traveler? Adventure biography turns into a storybook, as Harry Potter himself tells all!"
(End of Chapter)