"Truman is extremely unhappy with the Ministry of Magic."
"Yes, it was entirely a mistake," Natley said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Truman glanced at Albert beside him, his voice cold. "I need an apology, sir. Do you have any idea how much impact this letter has had on me? Do you know how furious I was when I found out I had been inexplicably fired? And now you just brush it off by saying it's no big deal—do you think a child is easy to bully, sir?"
Truman's tone grew even firmer. The fact that the Ministry of Magic intended to just walk away scot-free made him genuinely angry. Guided by the prep work Albert had done for him shortly before, his initially slightly trembling voice gradually became resolute. "I demand an apology from the Ministry of Magic. This entire incident was caused entirely by your mistake, and I have nothing to do with it whatsoever. Furthermore, the Ministry must compensate me for my emotional distress."
"What? I didn't catch that." Natley's expression froze, and even Headmaster Dumbledore wore a remarkably colorful look.
"I said sorry, and I also want compensation for emotional distress, sir." Truman clenched his fists. "One hundred Galleons."
"My apologies, boy. I regret any trouble this has caused you, but compensation for emotional distress... there is simply no precedent for such a thing," Natley couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
"I do not accept your apology, sir. You have zero sincerity," Truman said angrily. "Do you think that just because I'm a child, I'm fair game?"
Natley and Dumbledore exchanged bewildered looks.
"I think it's entirely reasonable, gentlemen. I was there at the time. When Truman lunged at me after reading that letter, I honestly thought he'd lost his mind. It took me a long time to calm him down and suggest that he write a letter to Headmaster Dumbledore," Albert said calmly, looking at the two men before him without a trace of fear. To be honest, he didn't like the Ministry of Magic—at least not when reading about it in the books, and seeing their handling of this situation made him dislike them even more.
If you're going to make a blunder this huge, the absolute least you can do is offer a sincere apology, you idiots. Who do you think you are, just washing your hands of it and walking away?
When you get right down to it, they were just a bunch of people abusing their authority. No wonder they ended up getting turned upside down by Voldemort.
"And frankly, I also think your apology lacks any shred of sincerity," Albert said, his eyes narrowing into a smile. "Adults like you aren't exactly rare in my experience. One of my former teachers was the exact same kind of person."
Natley's face instantly turned as black as soot.
"Of course, you're free to keep treating us as mere children." Albert suddenly chuckled, patted Truman on the shoulder, and said, "Some people are just like that. Don't let it get to you; let's head back. I'll stay in touch with you by owl, and perhaps we can discuss some academic matters."
Natley left, departing with a thunderous expression. He had no inkling of what was about to hit him.
"Well, goodbye then, Headmaster," Albert said, nodding slightly toward Dumbledore. "Thank you very much for helping Truman sort out this mess. If he had been expelled because of me, I would have felt terribly guilty about it."
"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson, and Mr. Truman," Headmaster Dumbledore said as he left as well.
"Those people are utterly revolting," Truman said, clenching his fists. "What kind of attitude was that? Truly disgusting. I've half a mind to punch him hard."
"So, how about it? Shall we write to the Daily Prophet?" Albert asked, looking at Truman with a smile once Dumbledore had gone.
Just moments ago, he had triggered a quest named "Truman's Grievance."
"Yes, absolutely. We have to expose this."
"Just remember to split the reward with me fifty-fifty." Albert wasn't afraid of stirring up trouble at all. The quest reward was remarkably generous—a cool 3,000 experience points, plus an extra 25 Galleons.
"Alright, you write it. By the way, are your folks really lawyers?" Truman couldn't help asking.
"Of course, they're both lawyers, so I'm actually quite adept at handling this sort of thing. Besides, we're in the right; society naturally sympathizes with the underdog, and people are bound to love seeing a Ministry scandal exposed in the Daily Prophet. We can just have a word with the reporter to keep our names and photos out of the paper, and make sure you keep that letter from the Ministry safe."
Albert knew someone who was exceptionally well-suited for a job like this.
...
In London, Britain, at the headquarters of the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter was pondering her feature story for the day. Lately, there had been no major news to write about, which was giving her a bit of a headache.
People loved reading big news, whether true or embellished, as long as it captured the readers' attention. In Rita Skeeter's eyes, that was the definition of a successful newspaper.
She was questioning her assistant, trying to dig up some gossip that might spark a public debate.
A short while later, several letters were placed on Rita Skeeter's desk. She opened the envelopes. Some contained hate mail, while others offered inside tips, but one particular letter succeeded in capturing her full attention. After reading it, Rita Skeeter knew she had found the story she wanted, especially since it came accompanied by a photograph.
A few days later, the Misuse of Magic Office of the Ministry of Magic found itself infamous. In the pages of the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter painted the department as a blunder-prone bureau that constantly messed up, refused to apologize for its own mistakes, and handled problems with an utterly appalling attitude.
Natley was singled out by name, turning the poor fellow into a target of public condemnation for countless readers.
Rita Skeeter wrote at the end of the article that the victim had expressed deep doubts as to whether the Ministry of Magic remained worthy of trust. He had exposed the matter to the Daily Prophet and demanded 50 Galleons as compensation for emotional distress, which the Ministry had been unwilling to pay. That sum ought to have been paid by the Ministry in the first place, she noted, and they still owed the boy a heartfelt apology.
When Natley saw the newspaper, he suddenly felt that his initial decision had been a truly disastrous one. He recalled the words the boy had spoken: "Do you think that just because I'm a child, I'm fair game, sir?"
Yet the other party had proven through cold, hard facts that he was far from easy to bully.
Scarcely had the paper hit the stands when it immediately caused a sensation.
Natley was forced to take a temporary suspension without pay because the Misuse of Magic Office was inundated with a deluge of angry mail.
With her pen, Rita Skeeter showed everyone the lethal power of the written word. Having obtained the accounts and descriptions from the two boys, the reporter skillfully wielded her prose to fabricate the narrative she desired, incidentally turning the Ministry of Magic into absolute chaos.
She wasn't the least bit worried that people wouldn't believe her, because the article included the contents of the actual letter from the Ministry's Misuse of Magic Office. Trying to brush this off was simply out of the question.
Truman was in high spirits. He had received 25 Galleons as compensation for emotional distress—a sum of money that was entirely beyond his imagination.
Furthermore, the female reporter had not exposed his or Albert's names. Just as Albert had predicted, the Daily Prophet ran the story as their front-page headline, fiercely slamming the Ministry of Magic and incidentally dragging those responsible down in ruin.
Albert was in a similarly cheerful mood. His quest was completed, he had secured Truman's friendship, and the two kept in touch frequently via owl throughout the summer holidays, with Truman providing him with a bit of extra help concerning magic.
As for his share of the Galleons, Albert used it to take out a subscription to the Daily Prophet.
Chapter 12: Before the Term Begins
Summer vacation always flies by in a flash. In the blink of an eye, the end of August arrived, and the start of the Hogwarts term was just around the corner.
To say he wasn't looking forward to going to Hogwarts would be a lie, even though Albert would have preferred to stay home and slack off for a while longer.
Still, time waits for no one.
When it came to magic, groping around blindly and haphazardly on one's own was definitely not a good idea. It was like a blind man feeling his way with a cane—nobody knew what lay ahead.
Albert still understood magic only superficially, even though he had already read through all of his textbooks.
He maintained his pen-pal relationship with Truman, exchanging letters every three days.
This Hufflepuff student's academic performance was only average, and whatever knowledge he had in his head was completely picked clean by Albert within a few days.
Truman thought Albert would likely be sorted into Ravenclaw, given the immense interest he showed in magical knowledge, and he even expressed regret over it.
As for which house he would be sorted into, Albert didn't really mind. As long as he didn't end up in Slytherin—after all, Muggle-born wizards weren't welcome there. Besides, given Albert's status as a Muggle-born wizard, he probably couldn't get into Slytherin anyway.
"Good job, go get some rest." Albert stroked the owl's head and placed some food inside the birdcage.
Albert was quite satisfied with this owl. At least, after he repeatedly asked her, Shera had stopped bringing back any more prey.
He was certain Daisy wouldn't appreciate finding dead mice while cleaning the house.
Shera let out a tired hoot, hopped into the cage to eat, and prepared to get some proper rest, completely ignoring Tom's baring of teeth nearby.
"Knock it off, Tom." Albert scooped up the shorthaired cat and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Today, Herb had some free time at home. Recently, he had taken a liking to the Daily Prophet, showing immense interest in this moving newspaper.
Daisy would also huddle around to read the Daily Prophet, hoping to gain a better understanding of the wizarding world.
"I made corn chowder specially this morning." Daisy smiled warmly as she scooped a large bowl of soup for her son, knowing how much Albert loved it.
"Does that mean I don't have to drink milk?" Nia looked delighted, as she detested having to drink milk every day.
"Of course not, you still have to drink it." Daisy placed a glass of milk in front of her daughter.
"Did Albert learn a new spell again?" Nia glanced sideways at the milk and quietly changed the subject.
This trick was one she had learned from Albert, and the girl intended to pour the glass of milk into Tom's cat bowl the moment her mother wasn't looking.
"Nia." Daisy appeared behind her daughter seemingly out of nowhere, her hands on her hips, staring straight at the unfolding maneuver.
"Mom, I'm just getting breakfast ready for Tom; he loves milk," Nia hastily fabricated an excuse.
"It's fine, Nia, I've got another one right here." Daisy poured a fresh glass of milk and placed it in front of her daughter, adding a stern reminder, "Make sure you drink every drop."
"I hate drinking milk every day," Nia couldn't help complaining.
"Doesn't Albert drink it every day?" Daisy pointed out. "And he never complains."
"That's different. I've never seen Albert dislike anything since he was little." Nia felt a bit glum; her family always loved using Albert to shut down her arguments. "You guys can't always compare me to him. He's an exception."
"Oh, actually, your brother didn't like cheese very much when he was younger," Daisy said, raising an eyebrow. "Though he eats cheese now."
"Lies." Nia flatly refused to believe it, because Albert's plate of potato pancakes was currently loaded with plenty of cheese and ham.
"It's true. There are certain types of cheeses Albert avoids, especially the ones with a really strong smell—he won't touch those," Herb chimed in, finding the conversation quite amusing. Come to think of it, his son really wasn't a picky eater; even foods that most children thoroughly loathed were eaten without fuss.
"Children who aren't picky eaters grow up tall," Albert remarked without missing a beat.
"Why would I want to grow that tall?" Nia retorted.
"Growing a bit taller makes you look prettier," Albert pointed out. "Case in point: Mom."
Daisy clearly adored this compliment and beamed even wider.
"Sycophant," Nia muttered under her breath, and under Daisy's "affectionate" gaze, she reluctantly finished her milk.
However, she shared half a cup with Albert, offering the rationale that drinking more milk would help Albert grow even taller and as handsome as Dad.
Both Daisy and Herb were on the taller side, and thanks to their professions, they paid close attention to their personal appearance and maintained great physical fitness. More importantly, they were still quite young.
Originally, Herb had planned to use his free time today to take the family to the zoo. With school starting soon and Albert heading off to Hogwarts, they probably wouldn't have another opportunity for a family outing this year.
However, once Albert stated he didn't want to go, and Nia chimed in that the zoo was boring anyway, the family changed their original plans and huddled together in the living room to chat and watch television.
Nia wanted to ride her toy broomstick, but Herb sternly vetoed the idea because the last time she had ridden it, she had nearly crashed straight into the television.
The living room wasn't spacious enough, and riding a broom outside was inappropriate—it would be too hard to explain if someone saw her.
Consequently, the toy broomstick Luke had just bought for Nia was promptly locked away in the cabinet by Herb.
Actually, Albert had tried riding the toy broomstick once himself, which gave him the fleeting illusion that he might be suffering from a severe case of middle-school syndrome. The toy broomstick didn't fly very high, and finding it rather pointless, he never tried it again.
However, to Nia, who had no idea what middle-school syndrome was, flying freely on a broomstick clearly held a powerful temptation.
After watching television for a while, Daisy went to the kitchen to prepare black tea and cake. The family of four, plus one cat, sat in the living room reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
This storybook was a collection of fairy tales from the wizarding world.
The fairy tales inside were somewhat different from the stories they had heard growing up, such as Sleeping Beauty.
The story went that a medieval witch, envious of a local king's daughter's beauty, coated a spinning wheel with the Draught of Living Death. She lured the young princess into touching the spindle, casting her into a deep, unending sleep.
Later, a wizard smeared a stimulating potion across his lips and woke the princess with a kiss.
Well, the magical version of Sleeping Beauty certainly lacked a bit of romantic flair. Still, the family listened with rapt attention, even though they had no earthly idea what the Draught of Living Death and stimulating potions actually were.
At that moment, the Anderson family was reading The Tale of the Three Brothers, taking turns reading a section each in a very engaging process.
"Is there really a stone that can bring people back to life?" Nia asked with curiosity.
The magical world was full of infinite possibilities. Since the alchemist Nicolas Flamel had reportedly lived for centuries using the legendary Sorcerer's Stone, having a stone that could resurrect the dead didn't seem entirely impossible.
"Nia, there's no such thing in this world," Herb reminded her. "Besides, as you just heard, the second brother's loved one wasn't truly brought back to life."
"It's a fairy tale; there's a saying that fairy tales are all lies," Albert said with a smile.
"Albert is so annoying, can't you leave me a shred of anticipation?" Nia couldn't help complaining, though she well knew that things in fairy tales were entirely fictional.
Chapter 13: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
On the first of September, Albert woke up bright and early. He climbed out of bed, got dressed, and stretched his body slightly to wake himself up completely.
Today, he was finally going to Hogwarts, and he couldn't help feeling a little excited.
After washing up, Albert began checking his luggage.
"Are you awake? Then come down for breakfast," Daisy said, pushing the door open while wearing an apron as she looked at Albert checking his trunk. "By the way, put your robes and pointy hat right at the top of your luggage so they're easy to find when you need to change on the train."
"Albert, are you really not taking Tom to school?" Nia asked, rushing into the room in her pajamas while hugging the shorthaired cat.
"Let Tom stay behind to keep you company," Albert said.
"What about Shera?" Nia asked again.
"She'll fly to Hogwarts to find me on her own. I checked—there's an owlery at the school, and she'll stay there." Albert didn't want to drag an owl to King's Cross Station; it would attract far too many stares.
Breakfast was as simple as usual. Daisy had prepared a ham sandwich and a canned beverage for him to eat when he got hungry.
Naturally, food was sold on the train, so Daisy wasn't worried about Albert going hungry. Herb had given him all the remaining Galleons—a very respectable sum. They weren't worried about Albert spending money recklessly because there was no precedent for it.
Albert cast a Levitation Charm on the heavy trunk, easily lifting it into the car.
"Did you bring the camera?" Herb asked. "The one your grandfather Luke bought you?"
"I brought it. I'll write home every week and mail back photos at the same time," Albert assured them he hadn't forgotten, promising to snap pictures of things at Hogwarts and share them with the family.
"Good," Herb nodded. "Let's go."
The family arrived at King's Cross Station before ten o'clock. Herb helped Albert load his trunk onto a luggage trolley.
Albert pushed his cart toward the brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10. Giving a quiet, casual wave of his hand, he reached into the wall, and sure enough, his hand passed right through.
Albert breathed a sigh of relief, turned back to Herb, and said, "Alright, I'm heading in."
"Remember to write," Herb said. "And send pictures."
"Will do." Albert looked over at his little sister. "Nia?"
"So sneaky, I want to go too." Nia reached out and gave Albert a hug.
"Don't cause trouble at home, and don't make extra work for everyone," Albert instructed.
"I wouldn't dream of it." Nia turned her head away, pretending to be cross.
"Son, see you at Christmas." Daisy gave Albert a parting hug, kissed him on the cheek, and said, "We'll take you skiing then."
"Got it, see you at Christmas." Pushing his cart, Albert looked left and right to ensure no one was watching before breaking into a light jog straight toward the brick wall.
"He disappeared," Nia said, pointing at the spot where Albert had vanished.
"Magic is always so amazing. Let's head back," Herb said, wrapping an arm around his wife and daughter. "Don't worry, Albert will take good care of himself."
On the other side of the brick wall, Albert found himself standing at a different station. A scarlet steam engine was parked next to the platform, and a sign hanging on the train read: Hogwarts Express.
There weren't many passengers on the platform yet. The train was scheduled to leave at eleven, and since it was not yet ten, he had arrived an hour early.
Upon entering the platform, a new system notification popped up: Discovered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, earned 100 experience points.
Exploring the map yielded experience too, though very little. Albert didn't pay it much mind. Remembering something, he quickly stepped away from the entrance to avoid being plowed into by whoever came through next.
The spot that had been the ticket barrier was now a wrought-iron archway, bearing a sign that read: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
True enough, it matched the description in the books.
To be fair, this was the first time Albert had ever ridden this kind of vintage train—what a genuine antique.
Pushing his luggage along the platform, he casually selected an empty compartment, used the Levitation Charm to shift his trunk inside, tucked it away in a corner, and slid the door shut. Then, he set about changing into his wizard's robes.