Chapter 257: Albus, You Were Right All Along

Although the Shield Charm Harry hastily cast wasn't particularly powerful, it still managed to astonish everyone in the audience.

Executing such a well-formed, moderately difficult spell with such speed and agility was something even many Ministry employees couldn't achieve!

The crowd erupted into murmurs, with some people displaying expressions of shame.

The head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour, turned and asked:

"Has Harry Potter considered a career as an Auror after graduation?"

Professor McGonagall, having sent all the teams into the field, had returned to the stands to observe the students' performance. She was momentarily taken aback by the question but replied:

"Harry is still too young to be thinking about these matters... However, he might also end up as a Seeker for the national team—Harry has an extraordinary talent for that as well."

Someone nearby chuckled and said, "Like father, like son—I remember James was an excellent flyer too."

"Indeed," another old schoolmate said nostalgically. "He was a Seeker for Gryffindor, but he could easily catch the Golden Snitch as well."

Unperturbed by the chatter around him, Scrimgeour kept his focus on Professor McGonagall and said earnestly:

"If he wishes to become an Auror, even if his grades in certain subjects fall short, I'd be willing to make an exception. Please convey this to him—he's incredibly talented, and I'd look forward to having him join the ranks of elite wizards."

Professor McGonagall was slightly surprised, as Harry was only a second-year student, and the Auror program was notoriously selective and accepted only the very best.

In fact, due to declining standards among Hogwarts students in recent years, fewer graduates were being recruited by the Auror Office. Last year, only one student made the cut.

Thinking of Harry's personality, Professor McGonagall nodded lightly and said:

"I'll let him know... But what he chooses to do in the future is ultimately up to him."

Scrimgeour replied in a low voice, "Of course."

As they spoke, they didn't take their eyes off the scenes unfolding in the streaming mirrors.

In the original plot, Harry often faced challenges and crises relying on a mix of luck, talent, the guidance of mentors and friends, and a touch of authorial favoritism to stumble his way through.

But now, he was skillfully employing various spells, advancing courageously when needed, retreating decisively when required, coordinating seamlessly with his friends, and even occasionally shielding his nearby classmates.

Even compared to some of the outstanding near-adult teams, this group of second-year students was not inferior in the slightest.

Harry perfectly embodied the crowd's expectations of a "young savior," surpassing even their most optimistic predictions.

An elderly wizard grasped Dumbledore's hand, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

"Albus, I once begged you... begged you to let me adopt that poor child. I promised to love him as if he were my own son, but you refused me..."

"Later, when I heard you had sent him to live with his Muggle relatives, I thought you had finally lost your mind... Because I attended James and Lily's wedding—I knew what kind of people those relatives were. So I said some awful things to you..."

"I need to apologize—I'm sorry, Albus... You were right all along... You've raised this child to be truly exceptional..."

"I regret calling you a syrup-brained cockroach, an incorrigible fool, and a stubborn mule..."

Even someone as composed as Dumbledore couldn't help but feel awkward at this moment.

Professor McGonagall, who was standing nearby, kept her gaze firmly forward with a tense expression as if she hadn't heard a word of the old wizard's emotional outburst.

But Dumbledore's keen eyesight, unaffected by age, caught the faint hint of amusement in his deputy headmistress's demeanor.

Supporting the elderly wizard by the arm, Dumbledore sighed and said:

"I truly didn't do much... Harry's remarkable growth surprises even me."

This was the honest truth, but no one around seemed inclined to believe it.

The elderly wizard ignored Dumbledore's modesty and continued rambling:

"I should have realized it earlier. You must have had a grand plan for him all along... If I had brought him home, I would have spoiled him, and that would have truly ruined the child..."

Dumbledore tried to steer the conversation away. "The other children are exceptional as well. Look at them—they're all able to cast the Shield Charm so skillfully..."

The old wizard interjected, "If Lily could see Harry now, how happy she would be! You don't know this, but she once gifted me a radio—I've kept it all these years. But after she was killed, I couldn't bring myself to turn it on again..."

This remark brought a moment of silence over the group. Some of the more sentimental wizards had tears glistening in their eyes.

Sitting at the very front, however, was Cornelius Fudge, who looked thoroughly displeased, as though he had been forced into invisibility.

Fudge felt he wasn't receiving the respect he deserved.

But more than that, he had been closely observing not just the so-called "Savior" but the other young wizards as well.

Fluent casting of the Shield Charm, Stupefy, Petrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus...

Fudge, who had children of his own—children who had already graduated and, thanks to his influence, now held positions in the Ministry—couldn't help but reflect.

Though Fudge's own magical skills were limited, he inwardly admitted that his offspring were little more than incompetent layabouts. He feared they might even misspell visitors' names while working basic registry jobs.

But these children before him...

Their performance seemed to confirm the rumors that had been circulating—

Dumbledore was training a powerful army within the school, preparing to seize control of the wizarding world and oust the current Minister—Cornelius Fudge himself—from power.

Fudge felt a wave of panic, as if he were being cornered by a ferocious dragon at the edge of a cliff, unable to fathom why the beast hadn't simply pushed him off yet.

He trembled inwardly and opened his mouth several times to speak, but he no longer dared to wield the authority of the Ministry against Dumbledore as he had before.

Even engaging in normal conversation with the man left Fudge feeling immense pressure.

His gaze fixed on the massive, seemingly endless maze before him, as though staring at some kind of monstrous creation.

—Perhaps I could issue a new Educational Decree, banning Hogwarts from holding such games or competitions in the future.

—Or I could rally Lucius Malfoy and other board members, leveraging their influence to force Dumbledore out of the school.

Fudge imagined himself reigning supreme over the school, with Dumbledore slinking away like a defeated dog...

But then, with a sigh of resignation, he realized that if Dumbledore truly intended to seize power, his orders wouldn't even make it out of the Ministry before the headmaster confronted him directly.

—It may be better to seize some advantages while I am still in office...

Suddenly, Fudge remembered the suggestion made by the French Minister of Magic during the last International Confederation of Wizards meeting:

Reinstating the Triwizard Tournament.

Now, it seems like an excellent idea.

With a new perspective, Fudge looked again at the talented young wizards displayed in the reflecting mirrors and gradually broke into a smile.

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