Chapter 257: Albus, You Were Right
Though Harry’s Shield Charm had been cast in haste and wasn’t particularly powerful, the crowd on the stands still gasped in astonishment.
To produce a fully formed, functional spell with such speed and precision—especially one of moderate difficulty—was something many Ministry of Magic employees couldn’t manage!
Whispers spread through the stands, some faces flushing with embarrassment.
Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office, turned to Professor McGonagall and asked, “Has Harry Potter considered becoming an Auror after graduation?”
Professor McGonagall had just finished escorting all the teams into the maze and had returned to the stands to observe the students’ performances.
She paused, taken aback, then replied, “Harry is still far too young to be thinking about such things… though he might one day become a Seeker for the National Quidditch Team. He has exceptional talent in that area.”
A voice from nearby chuckled. “Just like father, just like son. I remember James Potter flying with the same flair.”
“Yes,” another former classmate added wistfully. “He was a Chaser for Gryffindor, but could catch the Golden Snitch with ease.”
Scrimgeour remained utterly undistracted by the murmurs. He fixed Professor McGonagall with a steady gaze and said earnestly, “If he ever decides to become an Auror, I’ll be willing to make an exception—even if his academic results aren’t perfect. Please tell him himself: he has real talent. I truly look forward to welcoming him into the ranks of our elite wizards.”
Professor McGonagall blinked, surprised. Harry was only in his second year, and Aurors were traditionally reserved for the very best wizards.
In recent years, Hogwarts’ student performance had steadily declined, and fewer and fewer graduates were being accepted into the Auror program. Last year, only one had made the cut.
Considering Harry’s personality, she gave a small, thoughtful nod. “I’ll pass on your message… but what he chooses to do in the future should be his own decision.”
Scrimgeour’s voice dropped low. “Of course.”
Even as they spoke, neither of them looked away from the Streaming Mirror.
In the original story, Harry had survived each crisis through a mix of luck, raw talent, help from elder friends, and—most of all—the author’s favoritism. He’d stumbled through dangers more by chance than skill.
But now, Harry moved with practiced ease, deploying spells with confidence. He advanced bravely when needed, retreated decisively when wise, coordinated seamlessly with his friends, and even found time to protect classmates at his side.
Even when compared to teams of near-adult wizards, this second-year group held its own.
Harry perfectly embodied everyone’s ideal of “the young Savior”—and exceeded even their highest expectations.
An elderly wizard, gripping Dumbledore’s arm, nearly wept.
“Albus… I once begged you… begged you to let me adopt that poor child. I promised I’d raise him as my own son… but you refused.”
“Later, I heard you sent him to live with his Muggle relatives. I thought you’d finally lost your mind… because I attended James and Lily Potter’s wedding. I knew what kind of people they were. I said terrible things to you.”
“I owe you an apology… I’m sorry, Albus. You were right. You raised him into something truly extraordinary.”
“I’m sorry I called you a sugar-glazed cockroach, a hopeless, brainless donkey…”
Even Dumbledore—whose heart had weathered countless trials—felt a flicker of discomfort.
Beside him, Professor McGonagall remained rigid, her eyes fixed ahead as if she hadn’t heard a word.
But Dumbledore’s vision remained sharp. He knew, without a doubt, that his deputy was silently laughing inside.
Gently, Dumbledore placed a hand on the old wizard’s shoulder. “I didn’t really do much… Harry’s growth is as much a surprise to me as it is to everyone else.”
It was the truth—but no one was listening.
The old wizard brushed aside Dumbledore’s words, murmuring, “I should’ve realized… you must have had a plan all along. If I’d taken him home, I would’ve spoiled him. That would’ve ruined him completely.”
Dumbledore tried to shift the subject. “Other children are impressive too. Look—most of them managed to cast a Shield Charm.”
The old wizard sighed, voice trembling. “If Lily Potter could see Harry now… she’d be so happy. She even gave me a radio. I’ve kept it ever since. But after she died… I couldn’t bring myself to turn it on again.”
His words silenced the crowd. A few wizards wiped at their eyes, moved by the raw emotion.
Only one figure remained utterly still at the front—Fudge, his face pale, as if rendered invisible.
He felt unappreciated.
More importantly, he had been carefully observing the other young wizards.
Shield Charms. Stunning Spells. Petrificus Totalus. Disarming Charms.
All performed with precision.
Fudge had children of his own, now graduates, placed in Ministry jobs by his own hand.
Though his own abilities were limited, he’d always thought his kids were useless—barely capable of writing a visitor’s name correctly.
But these children…
Their performance confirmed the rumors.
Dumbledore was training an army within Hogwarts.
Preparing to seize control of the magical world, and oust the current Minister—himself.
Fudge’s stomach twisted. He felt like a man cornered by a fearsome dragon, yet somehow still untouched—though he couldn’t understand why.
He trembled, wanting to speak, but dared not command Dumbledore as he once had, invoking the authority of the Ministry.
Even just talking to him felt like standing before a storm.
Fudge stared at the vast, endless maze before him with the eyes of a man confronting some strange, monstrous beast.
Perhaps a new education decree could be issued—banning such games and trials at Hogwarts.
Or perhaps contact Malfoy and the Board of Governors, using their influence to force Dumbledore out.
Fudge imagined himself ruling the school, Dumbledore fleeing like a defeated dog.
Then, reality crashed in.
If Dumbledore truly intended to take over, his orders wouldn’t even leave the Ministry before the Headmaster was already at his door.
Better… to take what I can before I’m gone.
Suddenly, Fudge remembered the proposal made during the recent international wizarding summit—the French Minister of Magic’s suggestion: Reinstate the Triwizard Tournament.
Now, looking at the talented young wizards in the mirror, Fudge’s expression slowly softened into a smile.
(End of Chapter)
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