hotmtlnovel Chapter 253 Inheriting the Estate: Rita Named
Chapter 253 Inheriting the Estate: Rita Named
Chapter 253 Inheriting the Estate: Rita Named
Harry and Scrimgeour had spoken in the fireplace, and within a few days, Scrimgeour sent word back.
Fudge granted Harry and the others' request to move the trial court to Hogsmeade Square.
He further declared that Fudge would build a huge grandstand so that all the people around Hogsmeade could see clearly the crucial points of the trial.
Harry was quite surprised to hear that Fudge had acted so uprightly, but he had no idea what the guy was up to.
He immediately had the idea to find out the truth from Scrimgeour and see what Fudge wanted to do.
However, Scrimgeour was a shrewd man, afraid of getting entangled with Harry, so he only read Fudge's words briefly before disappearing without a trace.
Within three to five days, rumors that Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic would hold a public trial for Harry in Hogsmoot Square spread like wildfire throughout the wizarding world.
Even foreign wizards had heard of it and said they wanted to go to Hogsmeade to see a great spectacle.
"I told you long ago that these guys were up to no good, and it was absolutely the right thing to do not conduct an interrogation at the Ministry of Magic!"
Blake slammed the Daily Prophet onto the table, making the ink bottle bounce three times.
He pointed angrily at the photograph in the newspaper and said, "Harry's trial won't start for another month, not to mention that setting up the venue won't even take a day. What are these guys at the Ministry of Magic preparing at Hogsmeade now?"
"They're definitely acting!"
Lupin rubbed his nose, and after a long pause, sighed, "They seem to want everyone to know about Harry's trial, but what's their purpose in doing that?"
"Is it because Fudge is confident he can convict Harry?"
When he finished speaking, no one in the conference room responded.
A dozen or so wizards sat around a long table, each staring silently at the newspaper.
Seeing everyone's reaction, Harry took a sip of tea, shook his head and laughed, "You are all heroes who have captivated souls with your staffs and traversed the underworld. How could you be intimidated by such a small show?"
"These are just petty scoundrels playing tricks on the government; what's there to worry about?"
Upon hearing Harry's words, a dozen or so eyes turned to him.
Kingsley's dark face twitched, and he couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Potter, do you have some way to guarantee winning this case?"
Harry shook his head vigorously. "No."
Kingsley paused, "Then why aren't you in a hurry at all? The Ministry of Magic is going to convict you."
Harry remained calm, taking another sip of tea. "What's the rush? If I win the case, it'll be my good fortune; if I lose, those brothers in the Boxers who've risked their lives for me aren't pushovers either."
"They are all agile and skilled warriors, adept at wielding powerful spells; storming an execution ground would be a piece of cake for them!"
As soon as he finished speaking, all the wizards in the room were struck dumb, shocked and wide-eyed.
Kingsley's eyes twitched, and cold sweat beaded on his bald head. He hurriedly said, "Mr. Potter, we don't want to clash with the Ministry of Magic. Our goal is to prevent you from being convicted."
As he finished speaking, the shaman in the room, who usually advocated for harmony, nodded hurriedly.
One stroked his goatee and said, "Kingsley is right," while another held his wand and murmured, "We can't be like the Death Eaters," and the room was filled with echoes of agreement.
Harry ignored everyone else, only glancing sideways at Kingsley, and said strangely, "What you're saying is very strange, you black bastard. Fudge clearly wants to put me in jail, so why are you acting like a coward, afraid to actually fight me?"
"You think Fudge will spare you all if you break the magic wand, cut out your tongue, and stick your ass up to the sky?"
"Once you join Dumbledore's ranks, you'll all be worthless thieves who deserve to die."
Though the words were crude, they were like a red-hot iron, searing straight into everyone's hearts.
Kingsley choked so badly his face turned purple, his lips moved repeatedly, but he couldn't utter a single word.
Just as things were getting awkward, they suddenly heard a clanging sound at the door, and someone knocked a few times.
The door creaked open a crack, and Molly poked half her body in, glanced around, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting, but Harry has to come over."
"Harry, some goblins are looking for you."
Upon hearing this, Harry tilted his head back and finished the remaining tea, then suddenly stood up and strode out the door with great strides.
Once he was far away, the wizards in the room looked at each other as if waking from a dream.
After a moment, Tonks suddenly raised his hand and waved it a few times. "So, should we take Harry's advice?"
"To lay an ambush in Hogsmeade beforehand?"
"I object to that," Kingsley said curtly. "We should conserve our strength to fight Voldemort, rather than wasting our limited resources on internal conflicts."
The crowd nodded and shook their heads repeatedly, but couldn't quite put their finger on it. Indeed, they were all gathered together, yet each had their own thoughts.
Meanwhile, outside the door, Harry followed Molly through the corridors and alleys, heading straight for the fireplace on the first floor. The woman walked hurriedly, her skirts creaking as she swept the stairs.
Harry came downstairs and turned to ask, "Which goblin are you referring to, Madam? Is it that scoundrel Legnak?"
"Oh, darling, I'm sorry, I don't know either." Molly shook her head. "All I know is that they're standing outside the door of number four Privet Drive right now."
Listen carefully, dear reader: ever since Black's old house became a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, ordinary people have been barred from entering. If Harry has any secret dealings, he goes to number four Privet Drive.
Anyway, the Dursleys had already packed up their valuables and fled, leaving behind an empty house. Wouldn't it be a pity to let it go to waste?
So Harry made a path through the fireplace in the house on Privet Drive, but by throwing a handful of Floo Powder, he could travel back and forth between the two houses without any trouble.
When they came downstairs, Molly handed them a cloth bag filled with Floo Powder.
Harry took it and bent down to crawl into the fireplace, only to see Molly pull out a roll of parchment from her bosom. She squinted at it in the windowlight for a while, then twisted her neck and said, "They're Gringotts goblins. There are three of them. They're probably here to deal with the inheritance issue."
Harry was taken aback by this and asked doubtfully, "How did you know the truth, Madam?"
"Because the guards at number four Privet Drive have arrived." Molly rolled up the parchment and laughed, "Goodbye, darling, remember not to kill indiscriminately."
Harry pretended not to hear, pondered for a moment, but had no idea who Molly was talking about.
He suppressed the thought, pulled out some flying powder, tossed it into the furnace, and shouted, "Privet Road Number Four!"
But then the green flames exploded, and the figures had long since turned into wisps of smoke and disappeared.
In the blink of an eye, the firelight in the fireplace at number four Privet Drive flickered again, and Harry stumbled out, covered in dust.
The doorbell was ringing like a death knell. Harry patted his robes and suddenly saw a person curled up on the sofa in the hall.
Upon closer inspection, a surge of joy filled her heart. She stepped forward, clasped her hands in greeting, and exclaimed, "Oh my! What brings you here, elder sister?"
When they got three steps closer, they saw that Hermione's eye sockets looked like two crushed rouge balls, and the tip of her nose looked like it was stained with a half-coral bead, clearly showing that she had just stopped crying.
Harry was startled and rushed to his side, angrily saying, "Where did this 'bird-headed' sister come from? Tell me what she got into, and I'll teach her a lesson she won't forget!"
Hermione paused for a moment, then forced a wry smile. "Don't be silly, Harry. After I've fused with the Elder Wand, there aren't many wizards in the world who can beat me."
Harry was even more puzzled. "If that's the case, why is my eldest sister so sad?"
Upon hearing this question, Hermione immediately lowered her head, buried her face in her knees, and mumbled, "I cast a forgetting spell on my parents."
After listening, Harry pondered for a moment, then said seriously, "Simply erasing the memories is not enough."
Hermione pulled her head off her knees, leaned back on the sofa, and sighed, "So I had them sell the house and then sent them to China."
"Mr. Liu is willing to take them in for a while."
Harry clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Now Europe is divided into two factions, and the Americas have all fallen under Grindelwald's control. Only Asia and Africa are spared from disaster, and going to China is a safe haven."
As the two were talking, the doorbell rang more and more urgently, sounding like a woodpecker pecking at a hollow tree trunk.
Hermione gave Harry a shove on the shoulder. "Go open the door. Those goblins have been waiting outside for ages."
Harry nodded, secretly channeling his magic to exhale a puff of mirage, and Hermione's figure vanished as the mist swirled.
He straightened his clothes, opened the door, and saw three fairies standing on the steps, all with grayish-blue skin and wearing sharp suits.
The streets were bustling with traffic and countless pedestrians, yet everyone seemed to have their eyes clouded, not glancing in their direction at all. It seemed as if some kind of illusion had been used to block their view.
Upon seeing Harry, the leading goblin bowed and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. We hope we haven't disturbed you."
Harry didn't say much, and stepped aside to let the three of them in.
As they strolled into the living room, the lead goblin looked around and said in surprise, "Oh, Mr. Potter, you don't seem to live here? This place doesn't look like anyone lives here."
Before he could finish speaking, Harry's iron-like hand slammed onto his skull, and he said coldly, "How I live is none of your business!"
"Did some scoundrel send you to probe my strength?"
The goblin felt his bones go weak from the pressure, and he quickly smiled apologetically, "Of course not, Mr. Potter, I was just saying it casually."
"Ahem! I think we should get to the point quickly, which is about Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart's will."
Harry then released his grip, led the three goblins to the dining room, pulled over an old chair, sat down with an air of superiority, and said with a sidelong glance, "Spit it out if you have anything to say, I'm listening."
The goblin sat down sideways, placed his briefcase across the table, and rummaged through the files without looking up. "I must say," he said, "Mr. Potter, you are the luckiest person I have ever met."
"Oh, please don't misunderstand, what I mean is, after all, you are the leader of that organization called the Boxer Rebellion."
His words were tinged with a hint of sourness and a touch of envy, like dates soaking in a vat of aged vinegar.
Harry, curious, said, "Stop with the small talk. Tell me, how much gold did Lockhart actually leave behind?"
"Oh, let me think—Mr. Lockhart has written a total of fifteen books, each of which has topped the bestseller list. Oh, and there's also the unfinished draft of 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,' making it sixteen books."
"Aside from his personal property and the Harry Potter series, he sold the copyrights to Gringotts for all the other books, so fifty percent of his estate is one-fifth."
The goblin shook out several parchments from his briefcase, scanned them a few times, and read in a high-pitched voice, "The total is—one hundred and fifty-four thousand seven hundred and fifty-six Galleons, plus seven Silver Sickles."
Hearing this number, even Harry, who was used to seeing mountains of gold and seas of silver, felt his heart skip a beat.
He thought to himself: Lockhart is quite the spendthrift. Half of his fortune alone is a whopping 150,000, and he's willing to give it all away. He's usually so timid and unassuming; I never imagined he was so extravagant at heart.
As he was pondering, the demon shook his head and recited the contents of the document one by one.
For example, a travelogue plagiarizes a wizard's adventures, or a legendary tale steals a wizard's secrets; how much are the royalties, and how are the compensation payments calculated?
He rambled on for most of the hour, until foam appeared at the corners of his mouth before finally stopping.
After the details were sorted out, the fairy pushed a stack of documents across the table, handed over a quill pen, and sighed, "I have to say, if Mr. Lockhart hadn't told the truth in his will, I probably would never have guessed that the contents of those best-selling books were based on other people's experiences."
"This is truly—surprising."
After he finished speaking, Harry didn't reply; all that could be heard was the scratching of the quill pen.
The fairy licked her lips, leaned forward, and said in a low voice, "Mr. Potter, you should know how serious this fraud is."
"I dare say that once this gets out, the copyright value of Mr. Lockhart's books will be greatly reduced, and those wizards whose life experiences were stolen will definitely demand exorbitant compensation—"
Harry, annoyed by his rambling, slammed his quill on the table and yelled, "What's with all this rambling? Just spit it out!"
"Oh, I mean, there's no need to make everyone unhappy, right?"
The fairy shrank her neck and said meaningfully, "Moreover, the compensation that accounts for forty percent of the inheritance can also be used for other things—"
Before he could finish speaking, a loud "thud" was heard. Harry yanked his ring knife into the table and sneered, "You worthless wretch, don't you know the dead are the greatest?"
"Since he wants to travel cleanly, I will ensure he is not stained by even a speck of dirt!"
Seeing that Scarface Lang was truly angry, he cursed his bad luck inwardly, quickly fell silent, and like a quail, pulled out another contract from his bag and pushed it over.
"Well, Mr. Potter, if that's the case, then we'll have to revise the details regarding your inheritance."
"After the copyright of his work is significantly reduced, you will probably only receive around 100,000 Galleons."
Harry glanced down at the document he had just signed; the ink was still wet. Instantly, a surge of anger rose within him.
He pulled the knife from the table with a backhand motion, the tip pointing directly at the demon's nose, and roared angrily, "You son of a bitch! What kind of reputation do you have, you scoundrel! I'll kill you all today, and then go slaughter yourselves in Gringotts!"
When the demon saw him like this, it was as if his three souls left his body and his seven spirits ascended to heaven.
He jumped up, scrambling back four or five steps, and cried out, "As you wish! Mr. Potter! Let's do it the way you've signed!"
'
Upon hearing this, Harry sheathed his sword, sat back in his chair with a flourish, and coldly said, "The missing tens of thousands of Galleons, you can go elsewhere to make up for it. If I find out you've touched a single bronze knuckle from Lockhart's estate, I'll kill you without mercy!"
The demon's jaw muscles twitched, and she finally managed to force a smile that was more like a grimace, and nodded.
"There's one more thing. Since he has to repay the debts to those aggrieved parties, you all should settle this matter for him. As for the commission, just take it from my share of the inheritance."
The fairy forced herself to stay alert. "Then—do we also need to handle the money Mr. Lockhart left for his family and Miss Rita Skeeter?"
Harry pondered for a moment and said, "His family members' share should be handed over according to custom. As for the Skeeter, you should have her come to me at number four Privet Drive."
"These five hundred Galleons, I will give to her myself!"
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