It wasn't a war between wizards, but a counterattack against foreign invaders.
The Wizengamot handed out Orders of Merlin like they were splashing water, probably the result of Dumbledore visiting those old friends over the past two days.
But unlike the Orders of Merlin that Lockhart had bought with money, at least these people's awards were truly deserved, with no one raising any objections.
If anyone had objections, they'd be sent to the front lines next time.
Heroes couldn't be allowed to bleed and then shed tears too, but for Harry, what was more important right now was taking up his position at Hogwarts.
"What do you mean by leaving it all to me?"
Standing amid this, um, pile of ruins, Harry said to Dumbledore.
"Just the literal meaning, Harry," Dumbledore replied quite casually. "You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts, aren't you? So the task of repairing this place and arranging it however you like is yours."
The two of them were currently in the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor... or rather, what used to be the Headmaster's office. The battle between Harry and Voldemort's soul fragment had destroyed it. Even though the Fel corruption clinging to the walls, ceiling, or floor had been fully purified, the place still looked utterly chaotic at a glance, filled with broken stones and damaged objects.
Given that Dumbledore's office might contain many important or dangerous items, Professor McGonagall hadn't cleaned it up, planning to let Dumbledore sort through them himself once he returned. During this time, the Sorting Hat had been staying in Professor McGonagall's office.
Rumor had it that the hat was chattering every day, driving Professor McGonagall to distraction.
"Oh, I'm glad Voldemort didn't do anything to them," Dumbledore said with relief. "It seems Hogwarts still holds some weight in his heart."
"This is... the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance?" Harry said after examining them.
A book with a black dragon leather cover, though some of the dragon scales on it had started to peel. Just from its appearance, one could sense its ancient history. Beside the book sat a small silver inkwell, with a faded quill inserted into it.
"Yes, that's them," Dumbledore confirmed. "When a child in Britain first displays magical talent, the Quill of Acceptance flies out of the inkwell and tries to record that child's name in the Book of Admittance—ah, just like this."
As Dumbledore spoke, the book suddenly opened on its own, and the seemingly tattered quill flew up from the inkwell beside it. It attempted to write a name on the open page—[Omi—]
It was a silvery, glowing liquid. Harry took a deliberate look; the inkwell was empty, but the quill was indeed producing silver writing—though only the beginning.
"Ah, it seems this child's talent isn't clear enough yet," Dumbledore said regretfully, as the name on the book slowly faded until it vanished completely.
"Was he rejected?" Harry asked.
"I don't know, Harry. No one can know the Book of Admittance's thoughts," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "From my observations over the years, I only know that the Quill of Acceptance has a more lenient standard than the Book. Only children approved by both can become Hogwarts students."
"So that child needs to show his magical talent again—like a magical outburst or something—to get his name recorded," Harry summarized.
"Yes, it won't misjudge due to residual magic from the child's parents or other reasons. That's the real reason Hogwarts has never admitted a single Squib in over a thousand years," Dumbledore said leisurely. "People always say this castle is the soul of Hogwarts, that it's everything about the school, but that's not true—these are."
"As long as the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance exist, a new Hogwarts could be rebuilt anywhere, even if not in the Scottish Highlands." After a fond glance at the dragon leather book in his hand, Dumbledore handed them over to Harry without hesitation. "Now, safeguarding them is your responsibility, Harry."
"I swear I will," Harry said, standing straight with a serious expression as he accepted the two treasures. "No one will destroy Hogwarts. Enemies would only find them over my dead body."
"Oh, no need to be so serious, Harry," Dumbledore said, waving his hands. "I think with your strength, protecting them won't be a problem. Just remember not to take them outside of Britain."
After handing over Hogwarts' most core treasures, Dumbledore seemed much more relaxed overall—no longer fretting over the ruined Headmaster's office or worrying about trivial administrative duties. Now, it was Harry who had to deal with the headaches.
"...I'm sorry to say I can't call you all 'children' as warmly as Dumbledore did. After all, forget white beard—at my age, I haven't even grown a black one yet."
At the first evening banquet after the new Headmaster took office, Harry, now seated in the center of the high table in the Great Hall, got the originally tense students below laughing with that one line.
"Don't worry, I won't ban your various clubs, big or small. I won't ban Quidditch, and I won't ban older students from going to Hogsmeade every weekend," Harry said, and the students' cheers grew louder with each point. "Yes, all the school rules will stay the same as when Dumbledore was Headmaster. I think the rules he set are excellent and good for your growth, so I don't plan to change them."
"Of course, I do have to remind you on behalf of my apprentice Filch that the list of forbidden items in the castle is still in effect. No casting spells in the corridors, no deliberately breaking things... You know what I'm talking about, Fred, George."
"Hahahahahahaha!"
The students loved this friendly vibe and laughed heartily.
"Oh, no! Headmaster! We haven't even started yet!" In this cheerful atmosphere, Fred shouted playfully.
"That's right, you can't punish us for things we haven't done," George chimed in. "Unless we actually do them!"
"Whatever you say," Harry shrugged. "But I have to remind you: Professor McGonagall is still Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress. If you're bold enough, go ahead."
"Hahahahahahaha!"
Seeing Professor McGonagall's face brewing with anger, Fred and George immediately shrank back into their benches, pretending to be obedient good kids.
And just like that, without any waves or objections, Harry smoothly took on the duties of Hogwarts Headmaster. Dumbledore didn't even attend his inaugural banquet. According to the old man, a territory doesn't need two lords; his presence might not be a good thing.
Even after shedding one heavy burden, Dumbledore still couldn't sit idle. He wanted to search for his old flame—after all, he and Grindelwald had disappeared together, but now he had returned to the real world, while Grindelwald remained missing.
Moreover, the old man said he seemed to have found a clue about a Horcrux. To wipe out Voldemort completely, he needed to investigate thoroughly.
In short, he vanished again, the only difference being that owls could still find Dumbledore this time.
Harry's appointment as Hogwarts Headmaster didn't face opposition from British wizards. When the Daily Prophet published the news, most British wizards reacted with celebration—or rather, a sense of pride they boasted about.
No one questioned Harry's strength, though there were voices doubting whether someone his age could handle Hogwarts' various affairs maturely and reliably. But once they learned Professor McGonagall was still Deputy Headmistress, those doubts vanished.
In the end, it was the French wizards across the sea who questioned whether Britain's magical community was short on talent, to the point that a twelve-year-old could become headmaster of a thousand-year-old magic school. Naturally, British wizards weren't happy being mocked by their old neighbors, especially the French.
Well, the already busy Ministry of Magic suddenly had another task: arresting wizards from both countries who were dueling privately along the border coasts over this... The existence of magic made wizards' mobility a bit too high.
After taking office, Harry truly didn't have a moment's rest. As Hogwarts' Headmaster, he immediately faced the same dilemma Dumbledore had dealt with—finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the students.
After all, this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Lockhart, had died without even a sliver of soul left. Currently, the class was being covered by Snape, who had volunteered... At the time, Snape had come alone to the Great Hall, made his request, and then fallen silent, just staring at Harry with an air that said he wouldn't leave until Harry agreed.
After looking into the history of teachers for this course, Harry discovered that whenever a new professor died mid-year, Snape would step in as substitute—and most importantly, Snape had always survived unscathed without any torment or danger while substituting. So Harry approved his request.
But this didn't change the fact that Harry urgently needed to find a new professor for the class. After all, the Christmas holidays had long passed, and the school year was nearing its end. If he didn't want Snape to meet an untimely end in the new term—and then have to find a new Potions professor too—he needed to act fast.
It was only at this point that Harry realized where he fell short compared to Dumbledore as Headmaster. Over a century of experience had built Dumbledore an endless network of contacts. As long as the old man used his clever mind to think, he could always pull a suitable old friend from the corners of his memory to serve as professor.
Well, according to Dumbledore, after he'd personally seen off more than a dozen old friends, his remaining ones would vanish or hide whenever they heard he was visiting before the summer term started.
No wonder the old man had smiled so happily and relaxedly when warning Harry to find a new professor quickly... He'd truly escaped a big hassle.
Harry had even considered recruiting a senior Auror from the Ministry to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. At first, the Aurors were eager to sign up when they heard Harry wanted to invite them to Hogwarts as professors. But as soon as they heard it was for Defense Against the Dark Arts—they all suddenly fell ill, with aches everywhere, especially stomach pains. In short, they just couldn't go.
"We're all Hogwarts graduates, Professor Potter," one Auror said frankly with an embarrassed expression. "No one knows better than us what a nightmare teaching that class is—at the end of the year, leaving with just serious injuries is the best outcome. Many have even died on the job."
That's the downside of everyone being Hogwarts alumni—you couldn't fool them even if you tried.
By the time the students' final exams ended, the school year fully concluded, and the Hogwarts Express pulled into the platform once more to take the students home, Harry still hadn't found a new victim... I mean, new professor.
He was starting to feel a genuine sense of anxiety. Harry wouldn't allow himself, as Headmaster, to fail in providing the students with a qualified professor who could teach the subject, leaving the class vacant in the end. Honestly, he was even tempted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts himself.
His current knowledge of wizarding magic might still not match old wizards like Dumbledore or Grindelwald, who had delved deep into the field for years, but it was more than enough to teach seven years of students.
Unfortunately, this idea was vehemently blocked by Professor McGonagall. Hogwarts absolutely couldn't afford an accident where a young, newly appointed Headmaster died from the curse... Considering that the professors for the past three years had all met unnatural deaths, Professor McGonagall didn't dare gamble on luck.
Harry could become Headmaster because his strength was sufficient to protect the students, but if something happened to him, Hogwarts might truly have to close.
So in the end, somehow Sirius got wind of it and came bounding into Harry's office, jumping around and insisting on applying for the position.
"You're doubting my magical prowess, Harry!" Sirius slammed a hand on Harry's desk, fuming. "Just a year ago, everyone thought I was a powerful dark wizard! The kind who could go a few rounds with You-Know-Who!"
"Yes, I am doubting it. You can sit back down," Harry said without a moment's hesitation, not even looking up. "I've already lost my parents—I don't want to lose my godfather at such a young age too."
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