thefictionvixens Chapter 112 Ministry of Magic
Chapter 112 Ministry of Magic
Chapter 112 Ministry of Magic
library.
Mrs. Pince collapsed to the ground.
Hermione's once clear and spirited eyes were now filled with fear; she couldn't accept that her mentor, whom she saw so often, was leaving like this.
"No!" But thoughts always speak faster than words, and it wasn't until she instinctively lunged toward the spot where Mrs. Pince had landed that her grief was finally revealed in words.
She knelt down next to Mrs. Pince, holding her hand tightly, and found that Mrs. Pince was still breathing, but there was a hole in her lower abdomen.
"Run—run—!" Mrs. Pince, lying on the ground, had blood and foam spilling from the corner of her mouth, her heart filled with despair.
That arrow wasn't fatal, but it pierced her abdomen, enough to drain all her strength. If she receives timely treatment, she'll be fine.
With Madam Pomfrey's skill, treating such an injury would probably only require waving her wand or drinking a potion.
But now she's not being given the opportunity to receive treatment.
The enemy is right at the door.
As an adult wizard, she lost most of her fighting ability upon meeting Hermione. She helped Hermione to her feet and cast a spell to stop the bleeding and relieve the pain.
Hermione could feel Mrs. Pince's arm supporting her trembling, her fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of her arm. "You—run!" Mrs. Pince whispered, then knelt down and blocked the young wizard behind her, hoping to buy her students some time to escape.
However, they all overlooked one problem.
Reality isn't a movie. Opponents won't wait for them to finish explaining everything before making a move, nor will they allow them to get hyped up, buffed, plant their flags, and transform before engaging in a fair one-on-one duel.
When Mrs. Pince took two steps forward, defiantly intending to buy herself some time, she was shocked to find that the ferocious centaur sculpture had been reduced to a pile of rubble.
Two young wizards, a boy and a girl, stood at the door.
On the head of the young male wizard was a tiny wolf rider, and in his hand he held a large spear.
"Looks like we're really lucky, we made it just in time."
Ministry of Magic.
The opulent auditorium exuded an air of nouveau riche extravagance.
As soon as he stepped inside, Dumbledore's face revealed a vivid expression different from his usual one, clearly showing his dislike for the decor.
Another invited guest, Professor Flitwick, remained unmoved, as if it were the same wherever he was, except that his gait seemed a little awkward, as if he was not used to his height.
And the last one, today's protagonist, Ryan Welsh, who is about to be awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class, maintains a great deal of curiosity about "himself".
At this moment, everyone in the Ministry of Magic's Great Hall naturally understood, based on their own assumptions, why Ryan Welsh would act this way.
After all, as the most powerful prophet of this century, Ryan did not receive a medal for his prophecies. On the contrary, he made outstanding contributions by promoting communication and exchange within the wizarding world, and was therefore loved and supported by the people of the wizarding world, thus gaining honor.
In other words, the bigwigs behind Ryan don't want him to continue using prophecies to boost his reputation. They're starting to expand people's understanding of Ryan, aiming to package him as a magical genius, an alchemical genius, and someone wizards can trust.
Many people think it's great to have someone backing you up, including some who hold high positions in the magical world.
Even though these people discovered over time how great the communicator was, they still stubbornly believed that it was a sign that Ryan had someone behind him.
Perhaps, as the old saying goes: everything invented before I was born is taken for granted; everything invented between the ages of 15 and 35 is destined to change the world; and everything invented after I turned 35 is anti-human/wizard.
These flies, who live off the rotten flesh called power and profit, are mostly over 35 years old. Their minds are rigid and decaying.
"Reverend Master Wells, it is an honor to meet you." The decaying flies buzzed noisily around the young prophet.
Regardless of the quality of this prophet's invention or what he intends to do.
It's never wrong to cultivate a good relationship; anyone with eyes can see that. This prophetic master will not only be Dumbledore's successor, but also Nicolas Flamel's.
Only a few idiots still basking in Voldemort's glory would be unable to distinguish the situation!
Faced with these compliments, entourages, business cards, and champagne, Lane Welsh remained unmoved and even seemed somewhat disdainful.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the medal-awarding ceremony will begin soon. If we have anything to discuss, we can postpone it until after the ceremony." He declined all invitations and offered his own suggestion.
As the spokesperson for Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel, as the most powerful prophet of this century who has bestowed blessings upon countless people, and as the master of the Tower of Fantasy, which has led the wizarding world, whether people acknowledge it or not, agree with it or not, Lane Welsh is already a true big shot in the wizarding world.
There is no need to dismiss the advice of a truly great figure in the wizarding world because of a short period of time.
So, the people handing out business cards and raising champagne glasses all took their leave.
Watching everyone leave, Lane strode over to Dumbledore and Flitwick and whispered, "Is this what they're going to go through?"
Dumbledore nodded slightly: "Yes, whatever these people think in their hearts, they appear outwardly amicable, because they deserve to be treated with care."
"But if we come ourselves and face these people, we might not even get a single piece of information," Frivi chimed in, his voice full of sarcasm.
"I've heard of people belittling others and fawning over the powerful, but I've never heard of people belittling the powerful and fawning over the weak," Dumbledore said with a smile.
To outsiders, it looked like the three Hogwarts students were quietly discussing something, and their relaxed expressions suggested it was something good.
Those who witnessed the Hogwarts trio's interaction smiled in agreement, filling the entire Great Hall with a joyful atmosphere.
Before long, Fudge, the Minister of Magic, began his opening remarks, followed by the announcement of the awarding of a medal to Ryan by a representative of the Order of Merlin.
Small-scale conflicts continue to erupt in various parts of Hogwarts Castle.
Some were fighting, some were protecting their classmates, and some were following the puppets to harvest the invaders.
While the wolf rider Doro and some minor wizards associated with Ryan drove away the intruders.
Someone walked unhurriedly to the fourth-floor corridor. He stepped through thick smoke, waded through raging fire, and passed by the rubble and ruins that were now in ruins. But every step he took was precise and even calm.
"Cerberus, Rupert," he said softly as he opened the door.
On the other side, Louie, the three-headed dog, felt a strong sense of fear. He put on a fierce and menacing look, arched his back, bared his teeth, and made a rumbling sound from deep in his throat, trying to intimidate the newcomer.
"Just a beast," the man said.