Harry Seeks a Way to Make Money

Chapter 280 Harry Seeks a Way to Make Money

Picking up where we left off, Harry read the newspaper and was so shocked to see that Voldemort had conquered six cities in one night that he was speechless for a long time. He read the battle report three or four more times, but still couldn't figure it out.

He slammed the report on the table and exclaimed in astonishment, "Damn it! Even if there are six empty strongholds, we still have to kick down the doors one by one to occupy them."

How could France have allowed six cities to be breached in a single night?

Hearing this, Hermione thought for a moment and then comforted her, "That's normal, after all, they're French."

Harry ignored this, shoveled down a few mouthfuls of food, pushed his bowl away, and mumbled, "I need to report to the classroom soon, so please excuse me, elder sister and brother. I have to go to Hogsmeade to find Percy and get some details."

Having said that, he suddenly stood up and left the auditorium in a gust of wind.

Once outside the castle grounds and with no one around, Harry used Apparition and instantly appeared in front of the Shrieking Shack.

He then concealed himself, moving with practiced ease through the corridors and courtyards, heading straight for Percy's office.

Just as I was about to push open the door, I suddenly heard a series of snores coming from the doorway next to me. Looking over the lintel, I saw it was Scrinker's office.

Harry became suspicious and tiptoed over, pushing the door open. There he saw Scrimgeour slumped in his chair.

Seven or eight empty wine bottles lay overturned on the table, the room reeking of alcohol. Truly, it was a scene of drunken revelry: The bones of heroes are buried in the land of intoxication, wine stains still clinging to their old robes.

Harry was startled to see Scrimgeour there. He rushed forward, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him, saying, "Brother! What happened to you, drunk here?"

Naskringer was jolted awake, but only managed to open his eyelids a crack before turning his head away, drunkenly saying, "Don't disturb my sleep—"

Seeing that it wasn't the right one, Harry pulled out his wand and silently cast a water spell. With a "whoosh," a stream of cold water suddenly gushed out and poured over Scrimgeour's face.

The water felt like a bucket of snow, and Scrimgeour shuddered violently, jumping up with a cry of "Ouch!"

He hastily wiped the water off his face, glared at Harry, and asked in surprise, "Harry? What are you doing here?"

Harry said, "My brother came to ask me, and I was just about to ask him myself. I heard that Fudge went to Azkaban to invite my brother to come out of seclusion and serve as his advisor, so how come he's here in Hogsmeade now?"

"You mean this?"

Scrimgeour reached out and rummaged around on the table for a moment, then grabbed a bottle with a few drops of wine left. He tilted his head back, took a few drops, and said in a hoarse voice, "Fudge doesn't trust me."

Listen carefully, dear reader: When Scrimgeour was pardoned and returned to the Ministry of Magic from Azkaban, he felt as if a dragon had returned to the sea and a tiger had returned to the mountain, and his heart was filled with excitement.

When they arrived at the minister's office and discussed the matter of the undulating demons raising an army, he meticulously explained the terrain, troop deployment, and key points of attack and defense.

Not only was Fudge stunned by what he heard, but even the sages of Wissengamo beside him stroked their beards and nodded, all marveling at the sight.

With all the plans finalized, Scrimgeour was just waiting to be given another important role and lead his troops into battle. But Fudge said something like, "Although your suggestions are very constructive, you are still guilty."

He was immediately sent back to Hogsmeade to live a peaceful life as a sheriff, all his dreams of commanding troops on the battlefield and serving as a military advisor vanished. It was truly a case of: "Full of lofty ambitions soaring to the clouds, only to fall to the dust by a mere transfer order."

Harry, upon hearing this, stared in disbelief and exclaimed, "Damn it! Even discarding a used tool wouldn't be this fast! Fudge is truly a heartless scoundrel!"

Scrimgeour leaned back in his chair and chuckled dejectedly, "That's not all."

"Fudge dispatched a large number of Aurors to the front lines, but the supplies he provided them were pitifully small."

"He gave most of the magical tools and stockpiled potions to the apprentices of the sages in Wizengamor."

Harry was even more horrified upon hearing this. "Oh dear! To train soldiers to fight to the death, yet treat them like dirt, while fattening up those who know nothing of substance! What kind of utterly absurd logic is this!"

"My apprentices are more loyal and reliable than Aurors," these were the sage's exact words at the Ministry of Magic.

"Clearly, Fudge firmly believes this."

Upon hearing these words, Harry felt as if his heart was in turmoil. He paced back and forth in the room several times, then stamped his foot and sighed, "My brother has such great abilities, yet he cannot serve the magical world. This is the fault of the Ministry of Magic."

"Perhaps, but none of that matters to me anymore."

Scrimgeour draped his robe over himself, closed his eyes as if to sleep, and said, "I have done all I could. Now I just want to retire peacefully."

"Even if Voldemort really marches into Britain, there will be those wise men of Wizengamor to help him out."

Look at Scrimgeour, once a man of steel, a legendary figure. Now, before his hair has even turned white, his ambition has been completely worn away. Truly: a tiger fallen into the plains still retains its might, but a hero's waning spirit is the most heartbreaking.

But Harry couldn't bear to see a hero grow old. He immediately jumped forward and slapped Scrimgeour on the shoulder, making him jump.

"Brother, you're mistaken!"

"Now that the nation is in peril, it is a critical moment of life and death, a time to save the nation from collapse! How can we, standing between heaven and earth, turn a blind eye to this crisis?"

Scrimgeour sighed, pried Harry's fingers apart, and said with a wry smile, "Harry, I've already told you, Fudge doesn't trust me."

"And I'm pretty sure he doesn't trust you either."

"Even if you can convince those students' parents, Fudge won't send you and your men to the front lines."

"Of course, it's not because he cares about your safety; he's just afraid you'll build up a greater reputation on the front lines."

He valued the ministerial position more than Voldemort.

Harry said, "I know what you mean, brother. Even if we can't go to the battlefield, we can still help our comrades on the front lines."

After saying this, he reached into his pocket, took out a check, added 20,000 Galleons to it, and handed it over.

Scrimgeour instinctively gripped the check, but froze after only glancing at the densely packed zeros. He rubbed his eyes, looked closer, and suddenly jumped up from his chair as if on fire, stammering, "Harry, what...what do you mean by this?"

Harry clasped his hands in a fist salute, "The rise and fall of a nation is the responsibility of every citizen; donating funds to save the country is an inescapable duty. I do not trust the cronies of those bird sages, but I trust the Auror brothers."

"If Fudge wants to be a stepmother, I'll treat her like my own flesh and blood! My brother used to hold a high position, so he must know all sorts of wealthy merchants."

"Please exchange these 20,000 Galleons for life-saving potions and protective artifacts, and deliver them directly to the brothers."

Scringer stared at the check, feeling as if it weighed a ton, unable to utter a single word.

Seeing his expression, Harry leaned forward and asked, "Brother, are you perhaps unwilling to take this job?"

"Of course not!"

"Is 20,000 Galleons too few?"

Scrinker rubbed the check in his palm a few times, and after a long while sighed, "No—I just didn't expect you to trust me this much."

Harry laughed loudly, "If I can't trust my brother, then who in this vast world can I trust?"

Upon hearing this, Scrimgeour's chest heaved twice as he carefully folded the check and tucked it into his inner shirt. His earlier dejection vanished in an instant.

He said seriously, "Don't worry, Harry."

"I guarantee that all 20,000 Galleons will be sent to the front lines."

Harry returned the gesture with a fist and palm salute, saying, "It's all thanks to my brother's thoughtfulness."

He immediately resigned from Scrimgeour's, did not seek out Percy, left Hogsmeade, and went straight back to Hogwarts for classes.

Today happens to be Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and since Helbo has disappeared without a trace, Umbridge has no choice but to bite the bullet and come to fill in.

Although she took up the teaching baton, the students had already burned all their textbooks, so she had no choice but to teach according to the method that Helbo had used in his previous practical lesson.

Ron, who was huddled in a secluded corner, suddenly brightened when he saw Harry return. He opened his mouth to call out, but swallowed the words back, silently nudging Hermione beside him with his elbow.

"Hermione, Harry is back."

Hermione glared at Ron, then stepped forward and whispered, "How did your talk with Percy go? What did he tell you?"

Harry sat down cross-legged on the spot and waved his hand, saying, "I didn't see Percy. I ran into Brother Scrinker on the way and we chatted for quite a while."

He then explained in detail the office conversation, the donation, and other matters.

Ron was disappointed to hear that Percy hadn't been found. Hearing about Fudge's shady dealings, he gasped, "Fudge is absolutely insane!"

"No, those old guys in Wisengam must have gone mad too, letting Fudge run rampant like this!"

"Are they hoping the wizarding world will become even more chaotic?"

Harry didn't even glance at Hermione, but stared at Ron and slapped his thigh. "Brother, that's exactly what I wanted to say!"

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulders. Hermione's hands gripped his body like iron clamps, twisting him around forcefully.

But then she saw a sudden surge of rage in her eyes, as if she wanted to devour someone alive, and she gritted her teeth, saying, "Twenty thousand Galleons?"

"Twenty thousand?!"

"How long has it been since you checked how much money is left in your vault?!"

That was a valid question. After all, when Harry and Black visited Malfoy Manor, the nobles who managed the Potter family business paid back the interest they had owed for over a decade, box after box.

From that time on, Harry never counted how many mountains of gold and silver were piled up in Gringotts’ underground vault.

He chuckled and said, "Elder sister, there's no need to worry. I think we still have some Galon to spare."

"You're gone," Hermione said coldly. "Once this year's and next year's military pay are all paid, you'll be officially classified as impoverished."

Upon hearing this, Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He exclaimed, "Big sister, are you serious? Our family's savings of generations have been squandered just like that?"

Hermione said coldly, "You have thousands of wizards under your command, you've donated money to the front lines, and there's Fred and George's magical research..."

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"Haven't you realized that you've been doing things that the Ministry of Magic should be doing?"

Harry pondered for a moment, then shook his head and said, "Now that we have a formidable enemy at hand, it is precisely the time for everyone to unite as one. Although Fudge acted unfairly and showed favoritism, he ultimately didn't cause any major disaster."

"If I were to raise the flag and start a disturbance now, wouldn't I be condemned by everyone?"

Hermione sighed helplessly, "Harry, what I mean is, I hope you won't take on responsibilities that aren't your responsibility."

"Even though you're a super-rich second-generation heir, you can't afford this kind of drain."

"Unless you can find a way to make more money than selling hair growth products."

Ron pondered for a while before finally saying, "Perhaps we could find some work for everyone to do?"

Harry shook his head again and said, "An army is raised for a thousand days to be used in one. There's no reason to teach soldiers hard labor."

He pondered for a moment, a plan he had long ago come to mind, and clapped his hands to comfort her, saying, "Sister, please put your mind at ease. As for making a fortune every day, I do have a brilliant idea."

A true hero, with a pure heart, would give away his fortune for righteous cause; a courageous warrior, he would never let his comrades feel cold. Such generosity and righteousness truly make one a hero, finding a way to make money even in dire straits. What ingenious plan Harry devised to generate wealth? We'll find out in the next chapter.