The Magical Food God of Hogwarts

Chapter 48 Little Hero Lucas

"We must declare this to be an isolated, minor security incident, in which the valiant efforts of the Ministry of Magic's Aurors successfully thwarted a dark wizard's plot to rob Gringotts. Although the enemy cunningly escaped, the safety of our property and people has been maximized."

Fudge's eyes grew brighter and brighter, and he nodded repeatedly, "Yes, yes! The Ministry of Magic thwarted the plot! Well said!"

"Minister, that dark wizard is extremely dangerous! If we don't issue a public warrant, the Aurors' search efficiency will be greatly reduced!" Scrimgeour's voice was filled with suppressed anger.

"Then send your elite squad on a secret hunt!" Fudge waved his hand impatiently. "I'd rather he escape abroad and never come back than let the whole of Britain descend into panic! I will not allow anyone to use this as an opportunity to attack my ministerial seat!"

Scrimgeour's jaw clenched tightly as he glared at Fudge, but Fudge clapped his hands. "Rufus, Rufus! Don't forget I was the one who supported you becoming the Auror Chief of Staff. If I get into trouble, none of us will be happy!"

Scrimgeour stared at Fudge for a full five seconds before finally nodding coldly: "As you wish, my minister."

He strode away, turned around, and slammed the door shut.

"Oh dear, Scrimgeour is such a rude man," Umbridge said, feigning fear.

"Never mind Dolores, we still need him..." Fudge frowned as he pondered, planning his next move.

"Allocate a large sum of Galleons from the Magical Disaster Relief Fund. Send a generous condolence payment to every wounded person and silence them. Tell St. Mungo's Magical Hospital to place the seriously wounded in VIP single rooms; I want to make sure these people don't utter a word!"

"Brilliant, Minister, absolutely brilliant!" Umbridge clapped. "I also thought you could personally go to St. Mungo to offer your condolences. This would both silence their complaints and earn you a reputation for caring for the people."

Fudge wiped his eyes, touched. "Oh, Dolores, you're always so helpful... Do you have any other good ideas? You know, this robbery—well, this security incident—has hundreds of witnesses. How can we keep them from talking nonsense?"

"Yes, simply suppressing negative news isn't enough," Umbridge's voice was sickeningly sweet. "The public is foolish; they need a more eye-catching story to distract them."

Fudge said urgently, "Go on, Dolores, stop keeping me in suspense!"

Umbridge smiled smugly, his toad-like face relaxing: "Minister, we need a... hero."

She handed Fudge a parchment report.

"This is the on-site operation report submitted by the Auror office. There's a very interesting little anecdote in it." Umbridge tapped on a line in the report with her short, stubby fingers painted with pink nail polish, "After the explosion, a young witch was at the scene fighting with a dark wizard..."

"Brilliant!" Fudge exclaimed loudly. He thought he had grasped Umbridge's meaning and was about to make a decision when Umbridge, unusually, interrupted him.

"My minister, the main character isn't this witch, but rather an eleven-year-old Muggle-born boy who was present at the time, an orphan who wasn't going to Hogwarts until next month, Lucas McGregor."

Umbridge's bulging eyes gleamed: "According to the report, this Muggle boy, who hasn't even started school yet, displayed astonishing courage when faced with the dark wizard's terrifying attack, shielding the witch and saving her life until reinforcements arrived."

Fudge's eyes widened. He instantly sensed the immense value it contained.

"An eleven-year-old Muggle boy, an orphan..." he murmured to himself, his eyes growing brighter.

“That’s right, Minister,” Umbridge coaxed softly. “Think about it, the Daily Prophet’s headline— ‘A Miracle in Diagon Alley! An Eleven-Year-Old Hero Fights Alongside an Auror from the Ministry of Magic!’”

"A brilliant idea!" Fudge slapped his thigh excitedly, all the gloom from before vanishing.

"Ignorant masses always love these heartwarming stories, don't they?" Umbridge said in an aria-like tone, "A Muggle-born child, who hasn't even touched a wand yet, shows such fearlessness in a time of crisis!"

"People will understand that under Cornelius Fudge's leadership, even an eleven-year-old child has the courage to confront the darkness!"

"Yes, yes!" Fudge exclaimed excitedly. "That's so true!"

“This will not only perfectly divert public attention from the casualties, but more importantly…” Umbridge leaned closer to Fudge and whispered, “You can personally meet and honor this boy. This will greatly boost your approval rating among Muggle-born wizards!”

"Yes! Absolutely!" Fudge, beaming, rubbed his hands excitedly in the office. "A multi-pronged approach, genius, Dolores!"

"Contact the Daily Prophet immediately! Have them send their best reporters and photographers!"

Fudge walked back to his desk, picked up a quill, and quickly began writing on a blank parchment bearing the Ministry of Magic's emblem.

"Dolores, I want to reward this child. Once the impact of the reports has built up..." Fudge shouted without looking up, "I'll personally hang the medal on that... what's it called again?"

"Lucas McGregor, Secretary."

"Yes! I want to hang the medal around the neck of our little hero, Lucas!"

......

"My dear, there's a crease on the left side of your robe."

The mirror above the washbasin gave a loud reminder in the early morning. Lucas nodded and smoothed his robe.

Yesterday he had a very unpleasant nightmare, perhaps stimulated by the dark wizard. There were green lights in the dream, and it seemed like there were also pleas and cries that he couldn't hear clearly. He woke up covered in cold sweat.

But now he was awake. After washing up, Lucas regained his composure, and his reflection was clearly visible in the mirror.

He had changed out of all his Muggle clothes and put on a well-fitting, custom-made wizard's robe. His golden wand was tucked into his belt, and on his left hand he wore a bracelet of oak seeds that shimmered with gold.

He was tall and handsome, with fiery red hair and clear, bright hazel eyes.

The mirror was extremely pleased: "Yes, darling, you look so handsome!"

Lucas went out; he planned to take a good stroll around Diagon Alley today and observe the various aspects of magical food.

Down on the first floor of the bar, there were no other customers in the lobby except for Tom and Hannah having breakfast. Tonks was still in bed.

"Good morning, Lucas. Come and have some, there's some for you too," Tom said with a smile.

Hannah suddenly lowered her head, almost burying her face in the plate, and Lucas could see the tips of her bright red ears.

Thinking of yesterday's embarrassment, Lucas could only pretend he hadn't seen it, served himself some oatmeal porridge, and ate some toast and bacon and eggs.

He chatted with Tom for a few moments, acting as if nothing had happened. Speaking of yesterday's Gringotts heist, Tom pointed to a newspaper: "Such a big incident, and only a hundred or so words in the report? The Ministry of Magic must be trying to suppress the news. Our Minister must be having a terrible headache right now; if they can't control it, impeachment letters will come like snowflakes..."

It seems that wherever there are people, whether in the wizarding world or the Muggle world, there is politics.

As Lucas and Tom chatted, Hannah visibly relaxed, her cheeks flushed, and then suddenly glared at Lucas. Lucas seemed oblivious, intently enjoying his bacon and eggs.

After finishing breakfast, Lucas said goodbye to the two of them and headed towards Diagon Alley. Hannah hesitated for a moment, about to follow Lucas, when suddenly there was a muffled thud, a flash of light, and a large plume of purple smoke rose up.

Lucas turned his head in surprise and saw a portly photographer pointing a vintage camera at him, while a woman beside him extended her hand to Lucas.

"Good morning, you must be Lucas McGregor? I'm Rita Skeeter, a reporter for The Daily Prophet."