Chapter 469: The Minister

After the seventh ball ended, it was about time to depart for the Burrow. Since Harry’s Apparition skills weren’t strong enough to transport others, they ultimately chose the Portkey method.

As usual, Harry stayed in Ron’s room; when he entered with his luggage, the first thing he saw was an old newspaper stacked atop a pile of magazines, featuring a large photo of himself and Ron—the headline read “Nations Tremble as a New Era Dawns,” detailing the recently signed Treaty on the Restriction of Strategic Super-Wizard Power and loudly extolling Harry and Ron’s immense strength, claiming they possessed the most powerful super-wizard abilities, unmatched by any nation, leaving all countries in fear.

Of course, the article mentioned nothing about the Knights; many readers assumed they had achieved this solely through their superior magical prowess. It was easy to imagine how much Ron loved this article—he occasionally wanted to reread it.

When Harry picked up the newspaper with a wry smile, he also spotted a copy of The Quibbler from the same issue. Mr. Lovegood either knew nothing of his daughter and son-in-law’s deeds, or simply enjoyed telling outright lies—he analyzed Harry and Ron’s super-wizard powers from the perspective of an utterly oblivious ordinary wizard, attributing much of their success to the Deathly Hallows and Avalon.

“Ahem, Harry, we should go down and get ready for dinner,” Ron interrupted, sounding guilty.

Harry gently set down the two publications and joined Ron in the dining room, where Mrs. Weasley was placing a large pot of stew on the table. As Harry helped set the cutlery, a sharp crack echoed as the current Minister for Magic, Arthur Weasley, returned to his cozy home.

“Phew, phew—” Arthur panted, still visibly excited, “The Prime Minister is coming tomorrow. My goodness, he said he’s coming here—to our house!”

“It’s nothing,” Mrs. Weasley said, scooping a ladleful of stew into his plate. “He came when he was still Minister.”

“It’s different, Molly, different,” Arthur glanced back and forth between Harry and Ron. “I’d bet he’s here for you two—after all, tomorrow is Harry’s birthday, right?”

“Yes, the cake’s already bought,” Molly remained perfectly calm.

Arthur ignored the steaming food on his plate and walked straight over to Harry and Ron, putting an arm around their necks to whisper, “The Prime Minister has mentioned more than once that he believes super-wizard power could reverse our decline—I have no idea what decline he means. If he asks you to do anything dangerous, remember to refuse…”

“Arthur, you’re disturbing the children’s dinner!” Mrs. Weasley complained.

Ron picked up his spoon and said calmly, “Don’t worry, Dad. My strength is far greater than he imagines.”

This was clearly not the answer Arthur wanted—he looked deeply concerned. Harry quickly reassured him: “Don’t worry, Minister. I’ll be very careful.”

Arthur sighed in relief and sat back down, but kept muttering: “I’m completely baffled—suddenly there’s a flood of Muggle stuff I don’t understand. Hark keeps saying things I can’t follow—Ron, you must listen to Harry. Clearly, he’s much smarter than you.”

Ron said nothing, just kept shoveling food into his mouth.

After Mrs. Weasley repeatedly interrupted him, Arthur couldn’t finish his speech at the table, so as soon as dinner ended, he said: “Harry, Ron, come with me—I need to talk to you properly.”

“You’ll be late for work this afternoon!” Mrs. Weasley called from behind.

Arthur rubbed his head. “Ah, yes, I’ll try to be brief.”

“Where to begin? Ah, Yanayev—he’s interfered with the Ministry, so the Prime Minister thinks we should integrate our Ministry more closely with the Muggle government. He started bringing this up last month, but a little investigation shows most wizards, like your mother, have zero interest in Muggle affairs. The Prime Minister is deeply dissatisfied—he keeps talking about ‘sausage tactics’ and ‘better than nuclear winter’—I have no idea what he’s thinking!”

“Perhaps the Prime Minister fears Yanayev,” Harry said—he often read The Daily Mail and could guess some of it—“He worries Yanayev will use wizard forces to launch an attack, and if we don’t help, the Muggle world will be helpless.”

Arthur gave him a skeptical look. “I don’t believe that. Do their wizards really want to fight for Muggles?”

Hard to say, Harry thought. Kodovstritz had philosophy classes—their wizards might have a different mental state.

“At least,” Ron asked, “we’re not unwilling to offer some advice, right?”

“Maybe it’s the same principle as sausage-making,” Arthur gestured, “First he asks us for advice—we give him a few ideas. Then he demands support—just slogans, maybe wizards don’t mind. Then protection, technology, logistical aid, even spellcasting behind the front lines—finally, he wants us on the front lines. Yes, Yanayev must be using this exact tactic.”

“So I absolutely cannot open that door—not even in thought,” Arthur sighed deeply. “The Prime Minister was raised a wizard himself—why doesn’t he side with us?”

“Because he’s the Prime Minister of the whole nation,” Harry said carefully. “Could it be that the magical world’s desire to bury its head in the sand is just too selfish?”

Arthur looked wounded. “How can you say that! We’ve faithfully upheld the Statute of Secrecy—it benefits both sides!”

“Xuan Jun and Yanayev have long wanted to break the Statute of Secrecy, but were held back by the Death God’s presence,” Harry countered. “So—is the Statute of Secrecy truly good?”

“But what’s wrong with the Statute of Secrecy?” Arthur retorted. “If it were bad, why was it signed in the first place?”

“Perhaps because times have changed. Wizards once looked down on Muggles, but now they want to enjoy the conveniences of the Muggle world,” Harry said—he still hoped for televisions and computers to enter the magical world, filling the gap in people’s dull entertainment.

“But clearly, it’s the Muggles who want to break the Statute—and they want wizard power to win wars. I won’t risk the magical world for minor conveniences,” Arthur insisted. He glanced at his watch, grabbed his coat, and hurried off. “I have to get to the Ministry. Ah, the Prime Minister keeps wanting me to help him—why doesn’t he help me deal with Malfoy? Annoying!”

“I think Dad doesn’t understand the situation,” Ron said the moment Arthur left. “Maybe we should talk directly to Hark.”

“That’s the idea,” Harry nodded. “Hark is a Muggle Prime Minister who was raised a wizard, while your father knows nothing about the Muggle world. Talking directly to Hark would be more efficient.” He paused. “But why did Hark come to your father first?”

“Huh?”

“Because, as your father said, most wizards don’t want to meddle in Muggle affairs—even he, as Minister, is only half-informed and somewhat resistant. If that’s true, even if Hark tried to command wizards directly, he couldn’t.” Harry analyzed. “Unless he first convinces your father, then uses the Ministry’s authority to mobilize wizards—that’s the only viable path.”

“But from another angle, I don’t think the situation is urgent enough to immediately summon wizards,” Ron suddenly offered his insight. “We’re a powerful island nation. We shouldn’t waste energy helping the European continent—whether it’s divided among nations or swept clean by Yanayev, it won’t greatly affect our lives.”

“Good heavens, Ron, you’ve actually thought about this?” Harry exclaimed.

“Er, Hermione brought it up,” Ron scratched his head sheepishly. “Just like Xuan Jun makes Yanayev dare not move in the Far East, she thinks as long as we’re here, he’ll never dare cross the English Channel.”

“But we won’t always be here,” Harry said, feeling some urgency was necessary. “Look at how Yanayev treated Dumbledore and Voldemort.”

After a brief silence, Ron sighed. “Yanayev really is a villain. Why must he be so ruthless? Can’t he just live his life in peace?”

“Maybe he uses external aggression to cover internal contradictions,” Harry recalled some conclusions Zhang Qiu had shared with him.

Before they could delve deeper, Mrs. Weasley’s loud voice rang out: “Harry! Ron! Come help right away—there’s so much to do! The Prime Minister can’t delay our wedding!”

Harry admired her attitude toward life. With a different kind of respect, he joined Ron beside Mrs. Weasley, who was wiping the dining table, while Ginny, Ivy, and Zhang Qiu were washing a mountain of dishes piled high in a large basin.

“Do you want to clear the gnomes from the garden, tie ribbons on the gifts, or help me bake the appetizer pancakes?” she asked politely.

“I’ll take the gnomes,” Ron said listlessly. “That sounds a bit closer to Kamen Rider Holy Blade.”

Harry couldn’t help smiling. He slung an arm around Ron as they walked outside, saying seriously: “Hey, mate, remember—we fought tooth and nail for power to protect this warm, bustling, ordinary life from being shattered by Yanayev.”