Chapter 257: Albus, You Were Right All Along
Even though Harry's hastily cast Shield Charm wasn't particularly strong, it still surprised everyone in the stands.
Casting a formed spell of considerable difficulty so quickly and deftly—many Ministry of Magic employees couldn't even do that!
People murmured, some looking ashamed.
Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, turned and asked:
"Has Harry Potter considered a career as an Auror after he graduates?"
Professor McGonagall, who had just seen all the teams off and returned to the stands to watch the students, paused at his question before replying:
"Harry isn't old enough to be thinking about those things yet… but he might also become a Seeker for the national team—Harry has exceptional talent in that area too."
Someone nearby chuckled, "Like father, like son—I remember James was an excellent flyer too."
"Indeed," another former classmate said nostalgically. "He was a Gryffindor Chaser, but he could catch a Golden Snitch with ease."
Scrimgeour was completely unfazed by the surrounding chatter. He continued to look at Professor McGonagall, saying earnestly:
"If he wants to become an Auror, I'd be willing to make an exception for him, even if his grades in certain subjects aren't perfect. Please tell him for me—he's very talented, and I look forward to him joining the ranks of elite wizards."
Professor McGonagall was slightly surprised. After all, Harry was only in his second year, and Aurors typically only accepted the very best wizards.
In fact, due to the declining standards of Hogwarts students in recent years, fewer and fewer graduates were being accepted into the Auror force; last year, there was only one.
Considering Harry's personality, Professor McGonagall nodded slightly and said, "I'll tell him… but what he chooses to do in the future will ultimately be up to Harry himself."
Scrimgeour said in a low voice, "Of course."
As they spoke, they didn't ignore the scenes playing out in the Streaming Mirror.
In the original story, whenever Harry faced challenges and crises, he stumbled through, relying one-third on luck, one-third on talent, one-third on older friends and mentors, and the remaining one-third on the author's favoritism.
But now, he skillfully used various spells, bravely advancing when needed and retreating decisively when necessary, coordinating seamlessly with his friends, and sometimes even protecting his classmates nearby.
Even compared to those few high-performing, nearly adult teams, this team of second-year students was hardly inferior.
It was safe to say that Harry perfectly met everyone's expectations for the "young Savior," even exceeding what they had imagined.
An elderly wizard, almost teary-eyed, gripped Dumbledore's hand.
"Albus, I once begged you… begged you to let me adopt that poor child. I promised I'd cherish him like my own son, but you refused me…"
"Later, when I heard you sent him to his Muggle relatives, I thought you had finally gone mad… because I attended James and Lily's wedding and knew what sort of people they were, so I said some very harsh things to you…"
"I need to apologize to you—I'm sorry, Albus… You were right all along… You've raised this child to be truly exceptional…"
"I'm so sorry I once called you a cockroach with syrup-covered brains, a hopeless idiot, a donkey…"
Even Dumbledore, with his robust constitution, felt a pang of awkwardness.
Professor McGonagall, beside him, stared intently ahead, as if she hadn't heard a word the old wizard said.
But Dumbledore's eyesight hadn't deteriorated with age; he was certain his deputy headmistress was secretly smirking.
Dumbledore steadied the old wizard's arm and said helplessly:
"I actually didn't do much… Harry's growth into such an excellent wizard surprises me as well."
This was essentially the truth, but no one around him believed it.
The old wizard automatically tuned out Dumbledore's words and rambled on:
"I should have known, you must have had a long-term plan for him… If I had taken him home, I surely would have spoiled him, and that truly would have ruined the child…"
Dumbledore tried to change the subject: "Actually, the other children are excellent too, look, almost all of them can perform the Shield Charm…"
The old wizard continued, "If Lily could see Harry now, how happy she'd be! You wouldn't believe it, she even gave me a radio once, and I've kept it to this day. But after she was killed, I couldn't bear to turn it on again…"
His words caused a moment of silence among those nearby, and some more emotional wizards found their eyes welling up slightly.
Only Fudge, sitting at the very front as if forced into invisibility, wore a grim expression.
He felt he wasn't receiving the respect he deserved.
But more importantly, he observed carefully and also noticed the performances of the other young wizards, not just the Savior.
Skilled Shield Charms, Stunning Spells, Petrificus Totalus, Disarming Charms…
Fudge himself had children who had already graduated from school and were working at the Ministry of Magic through their father's arrangements.
Although Fudge's own magical ability was limited, he genuinely believed his children were utterly useless, so much so that he worried they might write visitors' names incorrectly even in clerical jobs.
But these children before him…
Their performance seemed to confirm the rumors—
Dumbledore was training a powerful army at the school, preparing to seize control of the Wizarding World and depose the current Minister—Fudge himself.
Fudge felt a sudden chill, like he was a dragon being forced to the edge of a cliff, only he didn't know why the other party hadn't pushed him off yet.
He trembled, repeatedly trying to speak, but he no longer dared to use the Ministry of Magic's authority to pressure Dumbledore as he had before.
Just speaking to him normally made Fudge feel immense pressure.
Fudge stared at the massive, endless maze before him as if it were some kind of monster.
Perhaps I could sign a new Educational Decree, forbidding Hogwarts from holding similar games or competitions in the future.
Or maybe I could contact Malfoy and others, using the power of the school governors to force Dumbledore out of the school.
Fudge fantasized about himself lording over the school, with Dumbledore retreating like a defeated dog...
Then he was disheartened to realize that if Dumbledore truly intended to seize power, his orders would likely not even leave the Ministry of Magic before the Headmaster came knocking.
Might as well try to gain a bit more capital before I'm out of office...
Suddenly, Fudge recalled the suggestion made by the French Minister of Magic at the international wizarding conference.
To restart the Triwizard Tournament.
Now, it seemed like a truly excellent idea...
As he looked at the talented young wizards in the Streaming Mirror with new eyes, Fudge gradually began to smile.
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