Chapter 686: Chaos
Chapter 686: Chaos
Chapter 686: Chaos
Outside a café near the University of Paris, Amandine Zoe and her colleague emerged after paying, only to be surprised by the crowd of pedestrians all gazing in the direction of the Left Bank of the Seine River.
"What are they looking at?" her colleague asked, puzzled.
Amandine silently raised her head, her eyes first landing on the Eiffel Tower a few kilometers away. Everything seemed normal, as if nothing had happened. Then she noticed six or seven small black dots. Were they birds? She quickly dismissed the thought, as two of the dots remained motionless in mid-air, which no bird could do.
In the blink of an eye, one of the stationary dots suddenly unfurled its left wing. The next moment, a massive green symbol hung in the sky, lingering like frozen fireworks.
Distant gasps of shock echoed through the air.
"It’s a person!" her colleague shouted, clutching her arm tightly. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Look—Amandine, is this some kind of large outdoor magic show? Can we invite them? How are they doing it? Wires, cables, reinforced glass?"
"I don’t think so", Amandine murmured.
As they spoke, the six or seven dots suddenly scattered, darting in all directions. One of the black dots approached them, becoming clearer. Now, they could see the black robe the figure was wearing.
"What is he riding? Some kind of flying device?" someone nearby asked.
"It’s a broom! That’s witchcraft!" a disheveled, balding man shouted.
The figure overhead seemed to hear this, turning back and hovering in the air, looking down at the Muggles on the street. He raised his arms, and Amandine saw him holding a small wooden stick. A flash of white light followed.
The disheveled man began to float uncontrollably, panicking and struggling.
"It’s magic!" the man on the broom cackled.
Amandine’s mind wandered, a vague memory surfacing. It was from her school days, when she heard a handsome boy in an Open Class ask the teacher with earnest curiosity: "What if magic really appeared in the real world one day?"
Now, magic had truly appeared!
...
New York, Usa
François Cloutier strolled down Broadway, the heart of American theater and musicals. He had been invited to perform here, but the show was scheduled for the next day, so after giving an interview to the press, he politely declined the staff’s invitation to wander around alone and clear his head.
Unsurprisingly, the journalists had once again brought up his magical experience, but he remained tight-lipped, treating the events of that night at the ‘House of Magic’ in Surrey as a secret known only to him. However, over the years, he had been gathering information on the occult. His theory was that if the mysterious man who had given him a new lease on life wasn’t a ‘god,’ then there must be a group of people in the world with special abilities.
François thought it more likely that the latter was true, especially since the man who had healed his arms later appeared at his concert—real gods probably wouldn’t have the time for such trivialities.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to speak with him, and he didn’t know if the man had understood the meaning behind his compositions.
The Angel of Sorrow... the Goddess of Magic... François didn’t know the source of the power that had healed him. It could be from religion or the magic of a wizard, as he had read in many fantasy novels that wizards often worshiped the Goddess of Magic.
Before he knew it, he found himself in Manhattan, standing before the Woolworth Building. Local staff had recommended some of the area’s notable landmarks, and this skyscraper was among them. François had heard of its name. Built at the turn of the century, the Woolworth Building was once the world’s tallest building and had a legendary status. Even disregarding its height, its neo-Gothic style held great aesthetic value. As he pondered this, a group of men dressed in black suits emerged from a side door.
François glanced at them curiously, having been previously captivated by the grand revolving door and not noticing the smaller entrance. These men moved quickly, their expressions grave, with the leader issuing stern commands.
François turned his back to them but perked up his ears, catching a few words:
"...abnormal exposure of the magical world... definitely related to Grindelwald... went to Britain for the funeral... received authorization from the security chief, can use force if necessary..."
François turned around, intrigued. He seemed to have heard the word ‘magic.’ His heart raced as he quickly followed the group, but he kept his distance, trailing them from afar. They turned into a gap between two buildings, and he quickened his pace, seeing the last man pull a small wooden stick from his suit pocket.
A wand? He thought excitedly, though it seemed much smaller than the ones he had seen in comic books...
François stood at the edge of the building, taking several deep breaths. He mentally rehearsed how he would introduce himself. What about starting with "I know a friend who can do magic"? Once he felt ready, he plunged into the shadow.
François looked around in confusion. All the people had vanished, and all he saw were a dozen or so tilted bicycles. He walked back and forth twice, but nothing unusual happened. He then returned to Broadway.
The street was bustling with people, but there was no sign of anyone he was looking for. Of course, he had no idea about apparition, nor did he know that a battle between wizards was about to take place at the intersection of West 42nd Street and Broadway in Manhattan, not far from where he was.
At the same time, atop the Statue of Liberty on Liberty Island in the Hudson River, a saint gracefully twirled a wand, and the torch held high by the statue burst into flames.
…
London, England.
Mr. Granger was working as usual at his dental clinic, with Mrs. Granger helping out. They had just seen a patient off when Mrs. Granger turned on the clinic's TV and started talking to her husband.
"Hermione is coming home today. We should close early", Mrs. Granger said.
"I remember. I've booked your favorite restaurant", Mr. Granger replied, washing his hands. Suddenly, Mrs. Granger let out a scream, and he rushed out, water dripping from his hands.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
Mrs. Granger stared at the TV, speechless. Mr. Granger looked at the screen, where the camera was shaking, capturing only half of the female reporter's head. She had an exaggerated head of golden curls, but Mr. Granger's attention was completely drawn to the tornado behind her.
If it weren't for the unmistakable Parliament building in the background, he wouldn't have realized the disaster was happening in London. He glanced uncertainly out the window; the weather was unusually good, and he felt no wind at all. The TV blared with an urgent voice—
"Rita! Look, there's someone in the tornado—did you see that? And those two guys who flew by on brooms?"
"Don't tell me what to do!" the female reporter shouted angrily, then took a deep breath to calm herself. She then spoke to the camera: "Ladies and gentlemen—despite how unbelievable it may seem, a tornado has suddenly appeared in the center of London. The cause is unclear, possibly due to the extreme temperature difference? I'm sure meteorologists will provide a reasonable explanation, so please don't believe any rumors—oh, Merlin's beard!"
The reporter cried out in panic. But Mr. Granger couldn't blame her for her choice of words; anyone seeing this would be terrified. A young man suddenly materialized out of thin air, and the screen went dark for a moment. The Grangers could only hear his voice.
"Hey, be careful. Need some help?"
A few seconds later, the screen returned to normal, and the young man who had appeared out of nowhere helped stabilize the camera, a bright smile on his face. "Are you reporters? I think so. Can I give an interview? Allow me to introduce myself. I'm a wizard, a graduate of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The tornado behind me is my creation—my companions helped too. We learned combined spells at school—"
Rita Skeeter was stunned, and so were the Grangers watching the TV, as well as the viewers who happened to be watching.
Rita Skeeter swallowed hard and struggled to say:
"Clearly, this is a mystic enthusiast, or perhaps he's insane. The interview is over. The tornado is coming, and we must evacuate—"
She suddenly fell silent, her body stiff and motionless, like a statue.
As everyone watched in astonishment, the camera was forcibly turned to the other side, and the young man's face filled most of the screen.
"My mind is perfectly fine", the wizard who claimed to have graduated from 'Ilvermorny' said. "Let me repeat, I am a wizard. We can talk—don't worry about the tornado behind me; it won't get bigger. And don't worry about this reporter; a simple petrification curse. Hmm? She looks furious…"
The next ten minutes were entirely his show. Thanks to him, many British citizens learned about wizards, the secrecy law, and a series of magical terms like Grindelwald, Dumbledore, petrification curse, combined spells, and magic schools.
"I personally think Ilvermorny is the best magic school in the world, but the Brits I met today don't agree. Oh, sorry, I forgot I'm in Britain now—" he coughed violently. "Objectively speaking, Hogwarts is pretty good too…"
Finally, he even lifted the spell on Rita Skeeter, allowing her to ask a few questions with a frozen expression. He seemed to have a strong desire to perform and probably would have talked for hours if not for the arrival of police cars and his companions calling him to leave.
...
"Is it April Fool's Day, dear?" the red-haired Rebecca stared blankly at the TV and asked.
"I wish—I'd better check the calendar!" Jim said uncertainly.
...
Winnie Valentine hurried out of the law firm and hailed a taxi.
"To that famous jewelry and crafts store on the corner", she said without waiting for the driver to ask.
"Is it called 'Future World'?" the driver asked.
"Right—oh, wait", Winnie pulled at her hair, forcing herself to calm down. She changed her mind. "Let's go to Charing Cross Road instead."
"Whatever you say."
The driver started the car.
"It might be a bit of a detour—there's a traffic jam ahead, apparently due to a rare tornado with low visibility."
"Tornado, tornado?" Winnie stammered.
"I guess the traffic reporter had one too many this morning. How could there be a tornado in the city center?" the driver said casually. "But the traffic jam is probably real."
...
At Grunnings in Surrey, where Vernon Dursley worked as a sales manager, responsible for selling more drills, he seemed especially irritable that morning. He had yelled at nine subordinates in his office, his roars even reaching the floors above and below the ninth. This made him overlook some unusual commotion in the office. After scolding the last subordinate to the point of humiliation, further straining already tense relationships, he closed his office door with satisfaction.
"Don't let anyone disturb me, I have some important calls to make", he barked at his assistant.
As noon approached, his mood improved. He stretched his fat body in the office and decided to buy a couple of donuts from across the street. As he left the company, he met his assistant, who cautiously told him that his wife had called earlier.
Vernon felt a vague sense of unease. Petunia usually didn't call during work hours, but he quickly brushed it off, thinking it was probably a reminder to pick up that freak nephew from the city after work. The thought soured his mood, especially since Dudley's first action upon returning from his break was not to give his father a hug but to rush into his bedroom to check if his comic books were still there. Vernon's anger boiled over.
He stubbornly believed this was a conspiracy by his freak nephew, a form of revenge. He threw a bag of donuts and a bottle of water on the counter.
"Two pounds and fifty pence", the cashier said.
"Two pounds and fifty pence? Why don't you just rob me?" Vernon yelled.
The cashier shrugged.
Vernon grumbled and paid, taking a donut and stuffing it into his mouth while glancing up at the TV hanging from the ceiling. He muttered, "Inflation... what do those worms in Whitehall do... five pence today, ten pence tomorrow, what's wrong with this world?" Gradually, he stopped talking, seemingly captivated by the news on TV.
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, his mouth gaping wide, making his double chin more pronounced. His small eyes fixed on the screen. Then he yelled, rushed out of the store, and ran back to the company, panting heavily, to fetch his car and head home.
While driving, he cautiously watched the sides of the road, afraid some odd-looking person in a cloak might dart out. There seemed to be a traffic jam ahead, and he slammed his steering wheel, honking furiously. "Damn it!"
He drove exceptionally well, reaching his house in just fifteen minutes.
"Petunia, Petunia!" Vernon burst into the house. "I saw on TV—Who are you!?" he said, eyeing the unexpected visitor warily.
In the living room, Petunia and Dudley were sitting on the sofa. Petunia seemed to be trying to hug Dudley, but he was resisting. Both were staring fixedly at the tall, thin man standing opposite them—unfortunately, the man was wearing the robe and cloak that Vernon detested the most.
"I assume this is the male head of the household. Hello, I'm an employee of the Ministry of Magic, working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. You can call me Dudley", the man said.
Vernon's eyes widened as he looked from the man to his son.
"Oh, I noticed this interesting coincidence", the man said cheerfully, "your son is also named Dudley, right? But there is a difference, 'Dudley' is my last name..." The man continued, pulling out a parchment from his pocket. "Perhaps you've already heard, the magical world has been completely exposed to the public, and the entire country is in chaos. To prevent possible dangers, I've been dispatched by the Ministry of Magic to seek your opinion—"
"Danger? What danger? My family doesn't—doesn't do that damned—"
Vernon's face turned red with rage as he spat out the word he despised:
"Magic!"
"Don't be silly", the wizard said pityingly, "to other Muggles, you're one of us."
(End of Chapter)
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