Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

After finishing the cake, Hagrid took Harry to London.

To be honest, Harry was curious—why, as a member of the magical world, couldn't Hagrid simply apparate like those wizards who vanished and reappeared effortlessly on the street? Instead, he had to take the subway like an ordinary non-magical person—oh, right, wizards called them Muggles.

When Harry raised this question, Hagrid stammered and struggled to form a coherent response—he clearly wasn't good at lying.

But Harry understood... Hagrid had his difficulties.

Since that was the case, there was no point pressing further.

"So why do wizards keep their gold with goblins?" Harry asked while carefully examining an ancient key—his parents' keepsake that Hagrid had handed to him. "From the way you described them, their greed for gold sounds just like goblins. No sane person would willingly entrust their money to goblins. It's harder to retrieve your own money than asking for their lives—even if it's rightfully yours."

Banks weren't unheard of in Azeroth either, but neither the Alliance nor the Horde would ever let goblins control their banking systems. From Hagrid's descriptions, goblins here essentially held sway over the wizarding economy.

"Goblins?" Hagrid looked startled, shaking his head. "Goblins aren't just pesky garden pests; they've even started uprisings before."

So wizards entrusted their economy to a greedy, unaligned race? Harry found it baffling.

Or maybe he just didn't fully understand the wizarding world yet. There had to be reasons for their decisions.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hagrid reassured him. "Though I don't much like the goblins at Gringotts, you won't have any trouble getting your money."

"Well, that's a relief," Harry nodded but couldn't help asking, "By the way, Hagrid, did my parents leave me a sizable inheritance?"

"I'll need a good warhammer and a shield," Harry said eagerly, "and if possible, a custom-fitted chainmail suit. Speaking of which, do wizard blacksmiths craft armor that automatically adjusts to the wearer's size? Otherwise, it could be tricky to forge armor properly."

The mere thought of new equipment made Harry excited. The pure joy of upgrading gear never faded. But when he glanced at Hagrid, he saw a bewildered expression on his large face.

"A w-warhammer? A shield?" Hagrid stammered. "Young wizards don't need such things, Harry! Didn't the letter list what you need? I don't recall seeing anything like that."

"I saw... three sets of black work robes, a hat, a pair of protective gloves, and a cloak," Harry sighed. "None of these cloth items offer any sense of security, Hagrid. I wear chainmail; cloth armor would just weaken my combat abilities."

In Azeroth, plate armor offered the highest defense, followed by chainmail, leather, and then cloth. Shamans wore chainmail even though they were spellcasters, as it provided additional benefits in combat—protecting allies, enhancing them, and sometimes personally defeating enemies was part of their role.

"Well, there's no such thing here!" Hagrid's face flushed. "Why would you even think of that? There haven't been blacksmiths in Diagon Alley for ages, Harry! Don't mention this at school, or the other young wizards will laugh at you!"

Hagrid's expression suggested he had endured such ridicule before.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said calmly. "Let them talk. I'll do what I must—the Earth Mother will protect me."

The teasing of young wizards? Ha, what did that amount to compared to the storms Harry had weathered?

As a human hero of the Horde and the Tauren, Harry was seen by the Alliance as a traitor, despite his many contributions during world-threatening crises. Most Alliance members, except a few close human friends, harbored animosity towards him. The SI:7 intelligence agency had even attempted assassinations to erase this "human stain."

Though some extremists in the Horde also rejected him, the Tauren always considered him one of their own.

So—Harry didn't care.

Truly, he didn't.

Long ago, he had learned to ignore hateful words and animosity—unless someone confronted him directly. In such cases, Harry would wield his storm-infused warhammer to make their heads bloom. Perhaps it would even bear fruit next year.

"Well... okay, okay." Hagrid was taken aback by Harry's composure and determination, realizing it wasn't an act. He murmured, "Fearless courage, eh? Harry, you'll surely end up in Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" Harry mused. "Actually, I think Hufflepuff might suit me better." He recalled Hagrid's descriptions of Hogwarts' four houses, which were clearly colored by personal bias.

Gryffindor was brave, Hufflepuff was clumsy, Ravenclaw was bookish, and Slytherin was full of dark wizards—according to Hagrid, at least.

"Absolutely not!" For the first time, Hagrid was firm. "If you ended up in Hufflepuff, people would go mad—me included... though I know you wouldn't care. Anyway—welcome to the Leaky Cauldron."

Before Harry stood an aged wooden door nestled between a large bookstore and a record shop, blending into the narrow space without a sign or anything unusual to distinguish it.

Harry noticed that while passersby saw him and Hagrid standing there, none of their gazes landed on the door—more wizard magic, no doubt.

"Before we go in, Harry," Hagrid said, gripping the door handle, "you're far more famous than you realize. Stay calm."

Without waiting for a reply, Hagrid pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron.

The bar was cramped and grimy—no matter how much Hagrid had praised it earlier, Harry's first impression was simply that.

It was not only cramped and grimy but poorly lit. Some robed figures gathered at tables, drinking or smoking and chatting in small groups.

Still, it was better than the worst adventurers' taverns Harry had visited.

As Harry took in this supposed gateway between the wizarding and Muggle worlds, Hagrid greeted the bar's owner. But that wasn't the main event—what mattered was that everyone in the bar stood up and rushed toward Harry, faces brimming with enthusiasm.

Frankly, Harry was thankful his warhammer wasn't with him. The last time so many humans surrounded him, it hadn't been a friendly encounter. Thankfully, Hagrid used his broad frame to shield Harry from the grasping hands and forcibly guided him away.

There were simply too many people.

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