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HRHL# CHAPTER 218
🕑 Added 2025-06-20 14:24:02 +0000 UTC“I only got my driver’s license a while back when I had some free time,” Veratia said casually, as if sharing everyday gossip with Harry.
Harry gazed out the window and remarked, “Your thirst for knowledge makes me feel a bit inadequate.”
Veratia laughed lightly. “It’s just a wizard who missed a century catching up on the last hundred years. Hardly a thirst for knowledge.”
The two made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, parked the car, and Apparated to the outskirts of Hogwarts.
Inside Professor Scamander’s tent, they found not only his family but also the Flamels and Albus Dumbledore himself.
As Harry approached, everyone stepped forward in greeting. Mr. Flamel even waved his wand, conjuring a string of colorful ribbons.
“Happy birthday!” they all said, clapping warmly.
“Thank you, thank you all,” Harry replied, a bit overwhelmed. “Merlin’s beard, I never imagined so many people would come to celebrate my birthday…”
And it was true. A hundred years ago, his summer holidays were spent at the Malfoys’, where no one ever threw him a birthday party.
Back then, his so-called birthday was just Cassandra sharing some cake with him, followed by the two of them practicing spells together.
“Now you see,” Poppy Sweeting said cheerfully, bounding up to Harry’s side. But Veratia, expressionless, approached from the other side.
Noticing Veratia’s demeanor, Poppy instinctively shrank back.
There was no helping it—Veratia’s presence was simply too overwhelming, enough to make even a unicorn feel uneasy.
Harry reached out, grabbing Poppy’s ears and pulling her back gently.
“What are you doing?” he asked, rubbing her ears. “Why’re you backing away? Did you see something scary?”
“Oh, Poppy?” Veratia sidled up to Harry, a mischievous smile on her face. “I thought you saw something terrifying.”
“Nope,” Poppy declared firmly. “I didn’t see anything. My legs just gave out, that’s all!”
Everyone burst into laughter, even Newt chuckling at his silly aunt.
Professor Dumbledore was in high spirits, pulling Harry into a deep discussion about the Horcruxes Tom Riddle had created. Veratia sat quietly, listening, occasionally chiming in to fill in gaps for Dumbledore and Harry.
Poppy kept bringing Harry bits of fruit, and Veratia pretended not to notice, letting her feed him imported delicacies.
“Recent news from America,” Dumbledore suddenly said, “mentions a young man with red eyes and black hair causing havoc over there. He’s killed several Muggles and some wizards. They’re planning to focus their efforts on capturing him.”
“What’s that about?” Harry asked, intrigued. “If I had to guess, that’s Voldemort, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. He’s infiltrated some Muggle organization and even made a trip to that space shuttle called Columbia,” Dumbledore said, frowning. “But he failed. The American wizarding and Muggle worlds are closely connected. Places like the space shuttle are heavily guarded by wizards.”
“Space shuttle?” Harry asked uncertainly. “What’s he doing at a space shuttle? Trying to launch a Horcrux into outer space?”
His words sparked a thought in Dumbledore.
“That’s not out of the question,” Dumbledore said, nodding seriously. “Voldemort is arrogant but terrified of death. After learning about Muggle technology in America, it’s likely he’d set his sights on their devices. If a Horcrux were sent into space via a space shuttle, we’d have no way to destroy it—no method at all.”
“But if the shuttle exploded, like the Challenger a few years ago,” Veratia interjected, “wouldn’t the resulting flames be enough to destroy a Horcrux?”
Dumbledore glanced at Veratia. “You know about the Challenger?”
“Of course,” Veratia said with a refined smile.
“Only Fiendfyre can destroy a Horcrux,” Dumbledore sighed. “Ordinary flames have no effect. Aside from Fiendfyre, there’s the basilisk’s fang… though we still don’t know why basilisk venom works.”
“Albus, let me remind you,” Mr. Flamel said, arms crossed, “the creator of Horcruxes was Herpo the Foul from ancient Greece. He also bred the first basilisk. It’s hard to say there’s no connection.”
“Anything else?” Theseus asked. “What other news from the American wizarding world?”
“Not much else,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “Though I’ve heard he’s searching for something tied to myths and legends.”
“Myths and legends?”
Everyone froze.
Theseus asked, stunned, “America’s barely two hundred years old. What myths and legends do they have?”
“That’s unknown to outsiders. If you want answers, you’d have to ask Voldemort himself. I’m sure he’d be delighted to tell you,” Tina said to Theseus.
“So, what’s your plan, Dumbledore?” Newt asked suddenly. “Are you going to America to see what Voldemort’s remnant is up to?”
Dumbledore chuckled.
“You know, Newt, they won’t allow a foreign wizard like me to enter and meddle in their country’s affairs.”
Newt nodded knowingly. He was all too familiar with the American wizarding community’s arrogance—save for Tina.
Proud, self-important, and described by every negative adjective imaginable.
“Any other news?” Harry pressed. “Besides Voldemort—we know he’s wreaking havoc in America, and we’re powerless to stop his evil plans. Anything else?”
“No other news, Harry,” Dumbledore said, sounding slightly regretful. “You know, compared to Voldemort, nothing else seems to matter.”
“What about Horcruxes?” Harry asked again. “Like in Gringotts’ vaults?”
Newt spoke up. “Oh, right, Dumbledore. If Voldemort chose a vault for his Horcrux, there’s a high chance it’d be with the Lestranges. If I recall, you told me Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, is one of Voldemort’s most loyal followers.”
“The Lestranges?” Dumbledore frowned. “As far as I know, the entire Lestrange family is in Azkaban. And without a token, we can’t access their vault. I doubt Bellatrix would hand over the key.”
“Plus, Gringotts won’t let us in without a token,” Dumbledore added. “It’s a matter of their principles and reputation. If they break that, no one would trust Gringotts with their money.”
“I have an idea!” Poppy said suddenly.
“What’s that?” Harry asked, intrigued.
“Why not disguise ourselves as Bellatrix Lestrange?” Poppy suggested. “Like, get her hair and use Polyjuice Potion…”
“It’s a good idea, but how do we get the Lestrange family token?” Newt asked, lowering his head.
Harry cleared his throat. “I suggest a practical little spell… like the Imperius Curse.”
Everyone turned to stare at Harry.
The Imperius Curse?
Alright, that’s a bit extreme.
But it wasn’t entirely unfeasible, at least in theory.
“I’ll do it,” Veratia volunteered boldly. “I’ll infiltrate Azkaban, get the Lestrange token, and disguise myself as Bellatrix Lestrange…”
You?
Dumbledore, who had been half-dozing, snapped awake.
My dear senior, please don’t go to Azkaban…
“No need,” he said with a hearty laugh. “I have a way to handle this. I suggest Miss Grindelwald stays here and waits while I retrieve Bellatrix’s hair. Agreed?”
“I’m fine with that,” Veratia nodded.
“But I’ve heard,” Newt said hesitantly, “Bellatrix Lestrange is a notorious madwoman. I’m not sure Miss Grindelwald could pull off her likeness…”
“Who knows?” Veratia said with a light chuckle. “We won’t know until we try, will we?”
The plan was set, and no one objected.
The birthday party was lively, at least in Harry’s opinion. Poppy, however, wasn’t thrilled—Veratia had smeared cake all over her face.
After the party, Harry didn’t return to the Dursleys’ but stayed at the Leaky Cauldron.
Dumbledore, as promised, went to retrieve Bellatrix’s family token.
The Leaky Cauldron wasn’t the most comfortable place, but it was spacious enough. Everyone there knew Harry and greeted him with nods and smiles.
Harry enjoyed his time there. He’d already told the Dursleys he wouldn’t return for the rest of the summer, planning to stay at the Leaky Cauldron.
After all, at the Leaky Cauldron, he could use magic freely without worrying about the Ministry catching him. At the Dursleys’, he didn’t have that freedom.
It wasn’t that he feared the Ministry—just that it was a hassle.
In his spare time, Harry visited Borgin and Burkes to browse rare items or sought out hidden spots where ordinary wizards wouldn’t go, buying things unavailable elsewhere.
He searched for mallowsweet leaves but came up empty-handed and eventually gave up.
September was approaching, though, and mallowsweet would be harvested then, so there was no rush.
Now, Harry stood outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, staring at a stunning broom.
The shop’s entrance was crowded with wizards marveling at it. It was breathtaking, a jewel of wizarding craftsmanship.
“Just released… a prototype broom…” a square-jawed wizard told his companion.
“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” a boy younger than Harry squealed, swinging on his father’s arm.
“The Irish International Team just ordered seven of these beauties!” the shopkeeper announced. “They’re the stars of the World Cup!”
Harry noticed the sign beside the broom and read softly, “The Firebolt represents the pinnacle of broom craftsmanship. Its ash handle is streamlined, exquisitely polished with diamond-hard finish, and bears a hand-carved registration number. Each twig in its tail is hand-selected for perfect aerodynamics, ensuring unmatched balance and precision. The Firebolt accelerates to 150 miles per hour in ten seconds and features an enchanting braking system. Price on request.”
Price on request.
That meant it wasn’t cheap.
Probably tens of thousands of Galleons, Harry thought—equivalent to fifty thousand pounds, enough to buy Mr. Granger’s Bentley.
But comparing a Bentley to a Firebolt wasn’t quite fair. Both were luxurious in their own way, at least to Harry.
He forced himself to look away from the broom.
His vault could cover the cost, but what then?
Spend all his money on a broom and struggle later?
He already had a Nimbus 2000, good enough to win Quidditch matches.
What more did he need?
Besides, if he bought it, the ever-frugal Veratia would scold him to death.
Still, every time he passed by, his eyes were drawn to the Firebolt like a compass to true north.
Sometimes, he bought supplements for Hedwig. Owls needed proper nutrition—feeding her dead mice every day wouldn’t do.
This year, Flourish and Blotts was quieter than last, now that Gilderoy Lockhart, the fraud, had been exposed by a respectable old lady.
Harry spent several Galleons to buy all the books he needed for the year.
Tucking them into his bag, he settled into his room at the Leaky Cauldron, content. Most of his time was spent practicing spells.
After some effort, Harry mastered disarming multiple targets at once.
Theoretically, it was similar to a chain Avada Kedavra, but a chain Expelliarmus was far more acceptable. Using light magic or harmless jinxes for marking was progress—no need for Azkaban-worthy curses like the Imperius or Cruciatus.
The Leaky Cauldron was noisy, situated in a Muggle street with Diagon Alley’s clamor in the back and Muggle car horns in the front. Without a Silencing Charm, Harry would’ve been driven mad by the racket.
He ran into Neville, who was with his grandmother.
Augusta Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother, was ten times stricter and more old-fashioned than Professor McGonagall. Surprisingly, though, she took a strong liking to Harry.
She even treated Harry and Neville to the latest, most luxurious nut-flavored ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s.
“Good boy, you’re so thin,” Augusta said, pinching Harry’s cheek. “Thank you for looking after our Neville at school.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” Harry replied politely, smiling.
On the second-to-last day of summer, Hermione and Ron showed up at the Leaky Cauldron.
“Harry,” Hermione called, knocking on his door. Harry, just waking up, rubbed his eyes and opened it to find her and Ron standing there.
“I feel like you two are hiding something from me,” Harry said, yawning.
“What could we be hiding?” Ron laughed, clapping Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, mate, let’s grab some food downstairs. Oh, and brush your teeth first. We’ll wait for you. My parents miss you—they want to say hi. Also, Dad’s got something to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.
“You’ll find out downstairs. Go freshen up,” Ron said with a grin.
Harry shrugged, not pressing further, and headed to the bathroom to get ready.
When he was done, he went downstairs.
Something felt different about the Leaky Cauldron today. On the walls… was that a wanted poster?
The man on the poster caught his eye.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
