NABC Chapter 93 The Old Man Who Was Worried About Going to Jail
Chapter 93 The Old Man Who Was Worried About Going to Jail
Chapter 93 The Old Man Who Was Worried About Going to Jail
"Graves, he's undoubtedly a hero." Dumbledore dodged the question, pretending not to have heard what Ryan was saying. Ryan: "Oh, right, right."
"The principal can go to the Great Lakes and see if he can find any clues, so that we can know what happened."
"And while I'm at it, I'll teach those lazy bums in the Magic Congress a lesson." He said, putting down his newspaper and burrowing back into his books.
He didn't tell the principal to be careful on the way, because in Ryan's view, such politeness was purely a personal insult.
Is it true that Dumbledore is in danger?
That's definitely not dangerous; the real danger should be the Magic Congress.
Unless Dumbledore is tricked by villains and drugged by the surviving saints with a bottle of Muggle potion and sent to Nurmengard.
Under those circumstances, Ryan dared not interfere or ask. Who knew how the White Hound, currently the most powerful wizard in the world, could be drugged by a mere bottle of sleeping potion...
"Albus, I think you need to go to the Great Lakes region and see for yourself." Nicolas Flamel seemed quite nervous.
It's like a student with average grades hearing the exam bell before the exam starts, but not yet receiving the answer sheet.
The Magic Congress.
Everywhere there are golden bricks and green tiles, and glazed jade steps. People come and go, dressed in fine clothes, guests come and go, and everyone is in a hurry.
Besides wizards, there are many other magical creatures living, working, and roaming in the Capitol.
"I told you then that this wouldn't work, and now look what's happened! The whole country and the world know about us!" A young witch with a somewhat gaunt face kicked open the door to the Minister of Security and barged in, slamming the Daily Prophet and the Gargoyle's Howl newspaper down in front of the Minister of Security at the Magic Congress.
"Get out, Miss Wilkinson, this is not a place for you." The middle-aged head of security pointed to the door and gave her the order to leave.
"Minister! This is a reasonable question! A reasonable challenge!" The young witch, whose face was somewhat thin, had a voice that was disproportionately loud to her size, making other members of the Magical Congress who were passing by the Minister of Security's office tiptoe to look into the office.
"This has nothing to do with you, Miss Wilkinson. Don't forget, you failed your Auror test." The Minister of Security's face grew increasingly grim, as if he were trying to control his anger.
"Well said, Mr. Wilkinson! Your ancestors will be ashamed of you." Miss Wilkinson angrily left the newspaper on the Minister of Security's desk, turned around, and stomped away in her high heels.
The onlookers whispered among themselves, "Miss Julia is picking on the minister again."
"The father-daughter relationship is rather strained."
"It seems like their relationship has never been good."
"The father and daughter have always had different personalities."
"That's because our minister has a problem," the Wilkinson family lineage traces back to Charity Wilkinson, one of the Twelve Aurors, who, according to the Magical Congress records, was always known for her gentle and kind nature—"
Secretary of State for National Security Wilkinson slammed his fist on the table: "Don't you all have work to do?! Go and deal with the public opinion surrounding this! Remember, if you don't do it, plenty of others will!"
The employees who were just watching the drama scattered like birds and beasts.
"Let's go now!"
"Get to work right away, get to work right away!"
After a flurry of footsteps, the Minister of Security's office returned to silence.
Benjamin Wilkinson picked up the two newspapers his daughter had slapped at him, rubbing his temples vigorously with his other hand. "This British wizard is incredibly audacious. Doesn't the British Ministry of Magic teach these people how to shut up?"
"He can't even shut his subordinates up, which shows Fudge isn't much of a figure. Or is it that old bastard Dumbledore, the self-proclaimed protector of wizards and Muggles, who's behind this?"
Benjamin Wilkinson grew angrier and angrier. He swept various items off the table, scattering them all over the floor with a clatter. Still not satisfied, he grabbed the pen holder and smashed it on the ground.
The staff passing by the Minister of Security's office were all on their hands and feet, afraid of making the slightest noise and being discovered by the minister, who was in a bad mood, and then being called in for a thorough scolding.
The lobby on the first floor of the Magic Congress.
Julia Wilkinson must have some deep-seated grudge against the floor; her high heels pounded against the floor, past several giants and goblins, causing these non-wizard magical creatures to quietly take two steps back.
"I've never seen anyone like this before, how dare they serve as Minister of Security in the Magical Congress!" she said angrily as she walked away. She had strongly opposed this policy of silencing people, but her father had rejected her suggestion on the grounds that she "failed the Auror test"!
"You don't want to investigate the truth, and you won't let me investigate the truth! Just you wait and see, I will definitely find out the truth." She opened the door, rushed into the street, and suddenly saw a kind and gentle old man with white hair and a beard that reached his chest smiling at her from across the street.
Julia was very confident in her observation skills. With just a glance, she noticed that the white-haired old man's nose seemed to have some old scars, as if it had been broken. He wore a pair of half-moon shaped glasses on his nose, and with his well-fitting wizard's robes, he looked like a learned old wizard.
"Sir, this is the Magic Council. Do you need any help?" Based on her appearance, she figured the elderly wizard might be there on business, so she instinctively asked him if he needed any assistance.
"Oh, kind lady, may I ask your name?" the old man asked.
"Julia Wilkinson, you can just call me Julia."
Even when faced with the name Wilkinson, a name renowned throughout the Magical Congress, the old man showed no sign of admiration or surprise.
He simply asked, "Hello, Miss Julia, I'm from England. I have some friends in the Great Lakes wizarding community, and I heard there was some trouble there. So I thought I'd come and check on my friends."
"If that's the reason, you don't need to go to the Magic Council." Julia smoothed her hair, a look of disdain on her thin face, which surprisingly gave her a unique charm.
"Why do you say that, Miss Julia?"
"Under the insistence of a certain shameless Minister of Security, the entire Magical Congress has now adopted a unified narrative: no one has admitted that the Great Lakes massacre occurred. If you were to go in and ask, given that an English wizard has already revealed the matter, your most likely outcome would be to be imprisoned on some charge," she said.
"That's terrible! I've lived all these years and never been to prison before. I don't want to be imprisoned for life by the Magic Council." The old wizard shook his head, looking terrified.