Chapter 1234 The War with the Ministry of Magic
McGonagall gasped, her face turning deathly pale, her voice trembling slightly with rage.
"He can't! This...this is tyranny! Taking away the children's last bit of happiness in the castle? At a time like this?"
Dumbledore nodded calmly. "Minerva, that's a word I use. Mild, but still tyrannical in nature."
McGonagall rushed forward urgently, “We must stop him! The Bylaws… his decision violates the Hogwarts Bylaws signed between the school and the Ministry of Magic!”
Dumbledore gave a wry smile and walked to the small round table, where the Pensieve reflected his solemn face.
“I made my position clear to him. I told him that if he insisted on implementing this law, I would regretfully end the long-standing friendly relationship with the Ministry of Magic as the headmaster of Hogwarts.”
A flicker of shock crossed McGonagall's eyes, which quickly turned into firm agreement. "You threatened him. That's a risky move, Albus. It will only make him see you as an enemy even more."
“We have been, Minerva.” Dumbledore’s deep gaze fell upon the flowing silver substance in the Pensieve. “His threat is more direct than mine; he sees Vincent as a dark force.”
McGonagall's small hands clenched tightly together. "He...he's completely insane! Isn't driving Vincent away enough? Does he want to drive all of us away?"
Dumbledore slowly nodded and then shook his head. "He has never been willing to relinquish the power he holds, perhaps..."
He raised his head, his gaze sharpening. "Things have taken an unexpected turn, and we must prepare for both possibilities."
First, he might temporarily back down because of my threats and dare not rashly issue decrees, but this means he will double down on making trouble for us in other ways, infiltrating, monitoring, and using every means possible.
McGonagall straightened her back. "Let Dolores and her little spies come. As long as I am the vice-principal, they won't be able to do whatever they want in the castle."
Dumbledore looked at her approvingly, but his eyes remained heavy. "Second, and worse, he might resort to desperate measures, ignore the threats, and forcefully implement the decree. In that case, we will face a more direct and open confrontation."
A brief silence fell over the principal's office, broken only by the occasional soft chirping of Fox.
McGonagall's expression returned to its usual calm and resolute. "Then we'll fight back. If the decree comes down, I'll personally tell every Quidditch captain in every house to continue training as usual. Also, I'll reopen all the club activity rooms. If the Ministry of Magic wants to punish me, let them punish me first."
Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of barely perceptible guilt. "Minerva, I always put the heaviest burdens on your shoulders."
“No.” McGonagall’s lips were tightly pressed together, without a trace of a smile, but with a firm strength. “Albus, you carry the weight of the whole world, while I can only carry this castle for you.”
From the Vigilantes and Grindelwald, to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and then to the Ministry of Magic and Fudge.
Dumbledore slowly turned his head to look out the window.
As night deepened, only a vague outline of the forbidden forest could be discerned in the distance.
"Before the real storm comes, we must make sure that children are as safe as possible, and, as far as possible... have a decent childhood."
His words drifted through the night sky; it was both a plan and a wish.
The war with the Ministry of Magic has spread from the front lines to the final and most important stronghold, Hogwarts.
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Hong Kong, Causeway Bay
Inside a small room in a hotel.
Rufus Scrimgeour, the Auror Chief of Staff, whose signature lion-like mane now resembled a bird's nest ravaged by a typhoon, was crammed into the cramped room with two Aurors, seriously discussing the pursuit plan.
The magic map covered all four walls, marked with a flashing cursor indicating their fruitless search route over the past two weeks. The room was filled with the smell of sweat, disappointment, and takeout wonton noodles.
"Director, we've already made three trips to Longzhai City."
An Auror with panda eyes weakly pointed his wand at the map. "Those stall owners all remember us. Last time I went to investigate, they thought I was some kind of suspicious person. If I hadn't run fast, they would have arrested me long ago."
Scrimgeour let out a low growl, like an old lion suffering from rheumatism, "Keep searching! Wayne was here. Even if we can't find any trace of him, we must find a clue about him!"
Damn it, Fudge! Vincent hasn't even been in Hong Kong for ages. With so many foreign tourists in Lung Chau, how could the stall owners possibly remember a blond, blue-eyed foreign wizard?
Frustrated, Scrimgeour picked up the remote and turned on an old television set in the corner of the room.
This was their only form of entertainment for the past two weeks, a way to learn about this "bizarre and wonderful" Muggle world of the East.
The screen is replaying a very popular local TV series, "Detective Investigation Files".
The Muggle police officer protagonist in the series uncovers a chilling truth while investigating a series of cases: what initially seemed like an innocent double suicide turned out to be a meticulously planned murder.
Scrimgeour watched very intently, not only because of the plot, but also because of the Muggle police officer's unconventional investigative methods.
After one episode, he rubbed his temples and was about to turn off the TV with the remote when he accidentally pressed the wrong channel.
A burst of powerful music started playing, and he immediately perked up.
The television screen showed a performance, and the three men were deeply moved by the man wearing a black felt hat who slid backward as if in slow motion.
How does this Muggle star manage to dance like this without relying on magic?
Scrimgeour was completely baffled when suddenly, a familiar figure flashed across the television screen.
"Chief! It's Wayne!"
Although it was just a fleeting moment, even if Vincent were reduced to ashes, the three of them would still recognize him.
With panda eyes, Auror's voice was hoarse, as if the world was collapsing, "Director... we've been looking for him for half a month, searching every black market and magical stronghold in Hong Kong... but he..."
Another Auror, his cheeks sunken, added with a sob in his voice, "And then... he actually attended a Muggle awards ceremony, and he was laughing so happily."
Scrimgeour's facial muscles twitched violently; he felt his dignity, along with the authority of the Ministry of Magic, being brutally shattered by the old television set in the corner of the room.
He remained silent for a full minute, then, with all his might, he squeezed out a sentence through clenched teeth: "Notify the International Department of Magical Cooperation, and say... the target has been identified, and the location is..."
After another brief silence, "Notify everyone! Find out the location of this awards ceremony immediately!"
After saying that, he abruptly turned off the television, as if that would erase the humiliating scene from just now.
Two weeks of hard work and meticulous planning couldn't compare to an awards ceremony for a Muggle star.
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