It was unexpectedly simple.
Harry had originally thought that he and Dumbledore would have to fight their way in and out, from goblins to Aurors, but he hadn't expected the process of sneaking in to be so straightforward with almost no difficulty, and getting out was even simpler.
They didn't even need to lift a finger; the dragon's flames cleared the path for them.
With just a bit of Blasting Curses and Reductor Curses, the dragon quickly broke through the underground tunnels and reached Gringotts' marble entrance hall. Before they even stepped out, Harry could already hear the screams of goblins and wizards—it was utter chaos, with no chance for resistance as both goblins and wizards scattered in flight, avoiding being crushed by the dragon.
A fully grown dragon required a team of at least twelve elite wizards casting spells in unison to control it in the wizarding world. Although the dragon in front of Harry wasn't in the best condition, it was still a massive beast with powerful scale armor and immense physical strength.
Especially in such confined spaces, even dragon handlers wouldn't have much of a way to deal with one.
The dragon finally found space to spread its wings. It had already caught the scent of cool, fresh air from the open doors, so it charged out, squeezing Gringotts' gates right off the walls. It staggered into Diagon Alley, then took to the skies.
As for Harry and Dumbledore, they had already blended into the fleeing crowd once the cart reached its destination, and by now, they had even Apparated back to Hogwarts.
"So, let's start dividing the loot," Harry said, barely having sat down, which made Dumbledore turn his head.
"Dividing the loot?"
The old man felt like laughing, and he didn't hold back.
"Of course, dividing the loot," Harry affirmed. "After every adventure, you have to divide the loot, or the team members will start fighting among themselves."
"I know what dividing the loot means, Harry," Dumbledore said after a pause. "What I mean is, you seem... a bit too proficient at this."
As they spoke, Harry had already dumped out all the various gold, jewels, and ornaments he'd packed from the Lestrange family vault onto the table, then quickly divided them into two equal piles.
"One pile for you, one for me," Harry said succinctly. "Very fair. That's how we always distributed it after adventures in the past."
"Er... thanks?" Dumbledore said dryly.
"You're welcome. It's what you deserve," Harry joked. "And congratulations on fulfilling your childhood dream—robbing Gringotts. Don't forget how you feel today."
"Thanks, it's hard to forget," Dumbledore said humorously. "Here, the destroyed goblet. Let me think... and these, the previously destroyed Horcruxes. Next, should we do some divination?"
"Of course. I'm quite curious to know how many pieces Voldemort split his soul into, and how he stabilized it without collapsing," Harry shrugged.
It was a routine divination, nothing dramatic. Harry simply placed Voldemort's destroyed Horcruxes in front of the brazier. As one of Voldemort's former Horcruxes himself, he was the perfect one to perform it.
Inhaling the bluish smoke through his nose, Harry vaguely saw endless green flames—that chaotic aura. The soul fragment that had devoured the main soul and revived seemed to have resurrected again in demonic form, but it was still in the Twisting Nether.
That was all.
The divined vision didn't change; it didn't shift to any unknown place. What Harry could see was just that.
"So, your hunch seems to be wrong," Harry said to Dumbledore as he opened his eyes again. "It's not seven Horcruxes, but six—accurately speaking, five. The piece of Voldemort's soul that ended up in me was just an accident."
"Oh, I think he just didn't get around to making it yet," Dumbledore shrugged. "But if your divination is true, then this is indeed the best news possible... Honestly, Harry, I've never felt this relieved."
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Once we find Grindelwald, you can truly retire."
"Retire... haha," Dumbledore's expression was a bit subtle. "That's a word that's both distant and close... So, like before, call me when you need help."
"Speaking of which, do you remember Karkaroff?" Harry thought for a moment. "He seems terrified by Voldemort's revival. Even though I've emphasized repeatedly that Voldemort is mostly dead, he still doesn't feel safe."
"So?"
"So he insists that you join as one of the judges for this Triwizard Tournament," Harry sighed. "Otherwise, he'll run off."
"Hahahahaha!" Dumbledore couldn't help bursting into laughter. "That's really... Alright, alright, I'll come."
"Then it's settled."
The breach of Gringotts and the vault robbery made the already tense wizarding world even more on edge. After all, Gringotts had once boasted the title of the safest place in the wizarding world, never breached by anyone.
But now, even the proudest goblins couldn't say that with a straight back.
After Gringotts underwent emergency repairs and reopened the next morning, a flood of wizards soon rushed in to withdraw their money.
At first, the goblins would comply, but it wasn't long before they couldn't stand the feeling of so much treasure being taken from their vaults and refused to process withdrawals, which undoubtedly infuriated the arriving wizards.
Even with the Ministry having dispatched Aurors in advance to the scene, some hot-tempered wizards, upon being clearly denied service, drew their wands and started fighting the goblins—the most bizarre part was that while the Ministry Aurors tried to intervene, honestly, their efforts were weaker than a fresh graduate recruit's.
What could you do? Aurors were wizards too, after all.
Aurors deposited money at Gringotts too.
And now the goblins were refusing withdrawals—who could tolerate that as a wizard?
Before things escalated further, Scrimgeour himself arrived on site. The Minister, promoted from head of the Auror Office, had considerable combat prowess. Upon arrival, he disarmed an agitated wizard in a few moves and took down a resisting goblin.
In the name of the Minister for Magic, Scrimgeour ignored the goblins' faces, which looked like they'd lost their parents, and ordered them to process withdrawals for any wizard who wanted their money. It was the wizards' rightful entitlement.
At this point, Scrimgeour couldn't be bothered to soothe the goblins' emotions. Well, or rather, the emotions of magical creatures like goblins had never been a priority for wizards—the most important were always their own kind. What was giving Scrimgeour a bigger headache now was that dragon that had flown out of Gringotts yesterday.
Even with the Ministry urgently recruiting more wizards as reinforcements, their staff was still operating at full capacity. Every day, there were massive traces of elemental spirit activity that needed covering up, and in this situation, a dragon flying straight over London from the city center to the outskirts—a colossal beast like that was naturally seen by countless Muggles.
Photos, cameras, the internet...
The incident couldn't be concealed anymore.
The current manpower simply couldn't cover up these piled-up magical traces. Muggles were openly suspecting the existence of magic and dragons, and even with the Muggle government trying to help cover it up, the effect was minimal.
Because that half-blind dragon, after taking off, perhaps unable to find where to go, had circled in the London skies for several minutes before heading to the wilderness.
How could anyone hide that?
Some Obliviate Squad members had broken down to the point of suggesting they call in Master Newt Scamander—beg for his Thunderbird, mimic the response to the American magical exposure crisis back then, and use a rain laced with Thunderbird venom to make Muggles forget everything—from London to Ireland, make everyone forget! Forget!! Forget!!!
It was a nice idea, but unfortunately not very realistic... After all, when the American magical exposure crisis happened, Muggles didn't have the internet.
Times had changed.
"That's the situation, Prime Minister," Scrimgeour said wearily from behind the round table.
"Oh," the British Prime Minister across from him nodded.
He looked like he understood, but also like he didn't... Harry figured the man more like understood but didn't know what to say.
"Ahem, I think... I mean—Humphrey?" The Prime Minister's eyes kept darting to his side, toward his Cabinet Secretary.
"Yes, Prime Minister," Humphrey's face immediately filled with a smile. "I believe what the Prime Minister means is that the magical world can no longer remain hidden?"
"Yes."
"You're going to reveal the existence of magic to everyone?"
"Yes."
"Has the Queen agreed?"
"What does the Queen have to do with it?"
"Oh, according to records, many wizarding nobles once swore allegiance to the Queen's ancestors," Humphrey shrugged. "This naturally requires the Queen's consent."
"She'll agree," Scrimgeour said expressionlessly. "You're missing the point, sir. It's not that I want to reveal magic's existence—it's that we can't hide it anymore."
"This is quite surprising," Humphrey said with an air of astonishment. "Even your wondrous magic can't manage it? What I mean is, we can try our best not to reveal it. After all, secrecy is the principle—we can claim nothing happened."
"And then?" Scrimgeour challenged. "They'll still see it, especially when they see the cheese in their homes starting to dance, or milk spilling out of cups and starting to mop the floor."
"Then we declare that perhaps something is happening, but we shouldn't act rashly," Humphrey replied immediately.
Harry couldn't help but want to applaud.
Clap.
"And after that?" Harry asked. "When Muggles—that is, non-magical ordinary people—demand to know more?"
"Then we announce that perhaps we should act, but there's nothing we can do," Humphrey nodded affirmatively. "That's right, without a doubt, completely correct—after all, we truly can't do anything. We don't have magic, this... Headmaster sir."
"Excuse me," the Prime Minister beside him couldn't help raising his hand like a student eager to answer. "I know this might be presumptuous, but—are you really the headmaster of a magic school?"
This British Prime Minister named Jim Hacker seemed quite delighted.
"He certainly is," Scrimgeour said irritably. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the best magic school in all of Europe, with over a thousand years of history."
"A thousand years!" Humphrey immediately adopted an astonished expression. "That's truly historic, ancient, noble."
"Oh, so your appearance... er, so you're actually an old man?" Hacker gestured excitedly with both hands. "You've just used some magical means to make yourself look this young... No offense intended, sorry."
"Let me put it this way, Prime Minister," Harry decided to satisfy the man's curiosity. "My age doesn't exceed my appearance—meaning I am indeed young. The reason I became Headmaster of Hogwarts is that my magical prowess surpasses that of most wizards."
"Talent," Humphrey said immediately. "Exceptional talent is a ladder that the mediocre can never reach. I understand."
So Hacker turned to look at Humphrey.
"Is this the time for such talk?" Scrimgeour grew increasingly impatient, tapping the table. "And finally? You can't forever appear incompetent in front of your people."
"Yes, that's the problem," Humphrey nodded. "That's why we must conceal it even more—after all, we're a democratic society."
"Yes, a democratic society," Hacker nodded repeatedly. "Democracy, yes, that's it."
"And the essence of democracy is that the people have the right to make mistakes, and our duty is to prevent them from exercising that right," Humphrey continued.
"Hm? Is that so?" Hacker tilted his head.
"Yes, Prime Minister."
"Then—yes, that's what I mean too," Hacker nodded again, turning back to Harry and Scrimgeour.
"...You can't conceal it forever," Scrimgeour said helplessly. "What will you say then?"
"Say that perhaps we could have done something back then, but now it's too late," Humphrey said with a smile.
"The problem hasn't been solved," Harry said seriously.
"Yes, but at least by then, we'll all be out of office," Humphrey said leisurely. "If something is worth doing, it's worth—delaying."