Chapter 690 Fireplace (Please give me double monthly votes!)

Rita Skeeter walked into the conference room half nervously and half excitedly. She looked around and saw several important figures and well-known writers in the newspaper - the fat supervisor, the serious old woman who was optimistic about her, her competitor Melissa, and two or three outstanding people in their respective subjects. She knew that one of them wrote a very good obituary.

They looked solemn, as if something big had happened.

"Rita, you are here." The serious woman said kindly. There were several letters in front of her, one of which had been opened. "How was your rest? No sequelae, after all, it was those strange magic?"

"Much better." Skeeter said vaguely: "I slept well and feel fine. Oh, by the way," she took out two manuscripts from the crocodile bag, "I wrote this."

The woman took it with surprise.

"This is my review of yesterday's events. Because I was not sure about the attitude of the newspaper, I chose two angles to narrate." Skeeter said calmly. "

I am very satisfied." The serious woman nodded, she flipped through it casually, and put the manuscript down without looking at it carefully. She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. "But now the situation has changed. We received this." She tapped the envelope on the table with one of her ringed hands. "And it happens to be related to you." "

Related to me?" Skeeter repeated in confusion.

The serious woman picked up the opened letter and poured out a stack of folded letter paper and a small card from it. She pushed the small card in front of Rita Skeeter.

"Read it."

Rita Skeeter scraped the card with the long nail of her little finger, took it in her hand and carefully identified the handwriting on it. She found that the handwriting was messy and not formal enough at a glance. Thinking of what Hep said last night, she guessed that it might have been copied by a student? She cleared her throat:

"The wizarding world has been exposed. The adults are busy discussing countermeasures, and my mother is worried. She doesn't want a conflict. A few friends and I decided to write to you - I hope you can realize that, apart from magic, our emotions are the same.

Also: One of my muggle-born friends recognized the female reporter who appeared in the news. She should be the first person to interview a wizard, right? So we sent it to you. That's it, that's all."

Rita Skeeter looked up and found that the reporters present were staring at her jealously. She instantly realized that it was the title of "the first reporter to interview a wizard" that played a role. The serious woman said nothing and pushed the opened letter over again.

Skeeter unfolded the letter and read it aloud in front of everyone. "I have a friend..." She only read halfway before she locked the identity of the sender. The famous Harry Potter is well-known in the wizarding world. With the reappearance of the Dark Lord Voldemort, his two friends have also become famous. They were once set as models for their unyielding loyalty in the face of the Dark Lord and were awarded the Order of Merlin.

Through various clues, she judged that the letter was written by Ron Weasley, the youngest son of the Weasley family.

"It's over?" The fat supervisor said with lingering interest, "It's quite interesting, but some of the prefaces and sentences don't make sense." Several other reporters nodded.

"It's over." Skeeter said dryly. She couldn't see anything interesting at all. If she had gotten the news earlier, she would definitely have concocted a series of controversial articles. Of course, it was still ambiguous whether it was praise or criticism.

A reporter was about to express his opinion, but the serious woman stopped him.

"Read all the letters, and then we'll discuss it."

Rita Skeeter looked around, grabbed the second letter, tore it open, and read it aloud in public, "I have a friend..." Well, she thought, just after she had muttered the savior in her heart, the savior's letter appeared. If it wasn't arranged by Hep, she would dare to eat the parchment.

Then came the third and last letter. Rita Skeeter read it for a while, but couldn't guess who wrote it.

"...When the weather is hot and humid, I like to lie in the small garden.

The mistletoe branches divide the sky into small grids, and the sky between the grids flows with each other. The dust in the sunlight is suspended next to the white berries of the mistletoe, which is very beautiful. Maybe the gnomes in the garden think so too. The gnomes are not very good at speaking. Apart from spitting and making faces, their greatest pleasure is to take the white berries home. When I was a child, I left a boot in the garden, hoping that they would move in one day. Later, my father and I built a house for them.

There are also knot vines in the garden. They usually look like dead tree stumps. This charming plant has knots on the surface, and occasionally it will grow some colorful scars (some people say it is because of insect pests). My father doesn't let me touch it, because the knot vine is a fragile and kind plant. With its presence, it can sweep away the bad mood nearby. The secret is the grapefruit-sized pods it produces.

'Those bad emotions are hidden in the pods, getting bigger and bigger until they can no longer contain themselves and burst.' Dad said.

We watched the scene of the pods cracking in awe.

The sun was scorching, and my father and I held up lotus leaf umbrellas to prevent ourselves from sweating. Usually we had to wait for a few hours, and suddenly we heard a popping sound, and the green skin cracked, and light green, twisted earthworm-like things flowed out from inside. They would still wriggle at first, but gradually became quiet, making people wonder if they were dead, but Dad said that it was just the bad emotions that broke out of their shells and turned into annoying harassment flies.

Harassment flies are harmful creatures that will float into people's ears and mess up their brains. They can become invisible, and when you hear a buzzing sound and then feel irritated, that is evidence of their appearance. Dad has developed a harassment fly siphon to deal with them, but there are too many harassment flies produced by the knotty vine, so we have to use other methods.

The method is to hold a special ceremony that looks like some kind of dance.

First let The happy emotion fills the brain, which can temporarily resist the attack of the harassment fly. Then the arms dance around the head, while constantly turning in circles - just like trying to drive away mosquitoes. The purpose of this is to tell the harassment fly that my brain has been occupied by other emotions and I don’t need you, so they fly away.

The ceremony is tiring, but also happy. To reward myself, my father usually cooks a pot of ball fish soup.

My father is proficient in many recipes, and I help catch fish in the stream. There are many kinds of ball fish, some of which are very dangerous, such as the big-mouthed ball fish. If someone overfishes their kind, they will rush out of the water with their mouths wide open to attack them. Therefore, when I catch fish, I will carry some Gedigans with me to prevent such accidents (I will also prepare some sage and sweet mallow for flame divination, or other useful things, such as spotted giant toadstools)... "

Rita Skeeter stared at these weird words. They seemed so out of place. Is there something wrong?

"Harassment fly." The fat supervisor thought.

"Plants that absorb bad emotions," Melissa murmured.

"Will it work for ordinary people to practice dancing to drive away harassment flies?" another reporter asked.

Rita Skeeter was stunned. After a long while, the serious woman coughed twice to let everyone come back to their senses, and then she lit a lady's cigarette. The remaining smoke curled up.

"Well, this is what I said about the change of situation." The serious woman sat upright and said, "At present, the whole country - no, it should be said that the whole world is in chaos. Many newspapers denounced yesterday's atrocities. Of course, we also published a mild criticism article... The reason why we are not in a hurry to show our attitude is because we are special. Rita was lucky to have contact with wizards, and even she herself has become an excellent material, so I am waiting for her to come back and prepare to create a series of news around her."

Skeeter rolled his eyes secretly, knowing that this woman had tasted the sweetness in the last gun ban incident.

"...Difference. In the news industry, we cannot just follow the crowd. We must have our own thoughts. But this matter is unusual. If wizards are defined as terrorists, we will probably get into trouble if we speak for them. Just when I was in a dilemma, I received these letters. What do you think the newspaper should do? Hand it over to the authorities, or--"

"Absolutely not hand it over!" Everyone shouted in unison.

A smile appeared on the serious woman's tense face. "Very good, if anyone thinks so, I will immediately let him pack up and get out. The question now is, what attitude should we take, and whether the contents of these letters can be trusted?"

Everyone lowered their heads and thought. They all realized that this was an interview. Whoever said something more in line with their wishes, the resources of the entire newspaper would revolve around that person.

"Why not take a neutral attitude, forward these letters truthfully, and stay out of it?" The fat supervisor said tentatively.

The serious woman looked at him.

"Perhaps we can make criticisms in a tactful way?" The fat supervisor said uncertainly, "There is too little useful information at present, only a few letters without a beginning or an end. What if it is a conspiracy of those wizards..."

The serious woman was about to speak, and Rita Skeeter interrupted and said, "We can't rule out this possibility." But then she asked, "But is it important to us?"

The serious woman glanced at her, "Tell me what you think."

"Whether there is a magical organization involved or not - oh, from these letters, everyone should be able to see that wizards are an organized small society, not scattered soldiers and guerrillas. They have schools, hospitals, law enforcement agencies, gathering areas..." Skeeter pointed at the letters and said, "Apart from the specific content, these letters themselves, they represent equally important significance: while other newspapers are still flying around like headless flies, we have already established a connection with the mysterious wizards. Well, although it is only a single line of contact, it is an excellent start." It's

not that the others don't know this, but they are all hesitant because of the heavy responsibility. But Rita Skeeter, this woman, has no psychological burden, and in the eyes of others, she seems very decisive.

The fat supervisor frowned and said, "What if these letters are just isolated cases, from a few - um, a few wizards in school, my God! Wizards actually go to school, how can it sound so weird - well, I mean, what if this is just a whim of a few wizard students in school?"

"I do have this worry." The serious woman said. She was afraid that because she spoke for the wizards, or criticized and analyzed them not sharply and comprehensively enough, she did not make full use of these materials, and was overtaken by other media.

"I don't think so." Skeeter said confidently. Her confidence did not come from analysis, but from the conversation last night. After knowing the conclusion, the process of reverse deduction became unusually easy.

"Think about it. After these articles are sent out, no matter if they are just a few students' impulse, as long as one of the contents in the letters is true - that is, wizards have their own law enforcement agencies, they will definitely find out about this. There will be only two results at that time:"

Rita Skeeter became more and more confident as she spoke. She raised two thick fingers:

"The first result is that the law enforcers come to our door and order those students not to write to us again, but this approach -" "

It doesn't make much sense," the serious woman continued, "because the wizards have already exposed their existence, and doing so is just pretending to be deaf and dumb."

"That's right," Skeeter said loudly, "The second result is that the law enforcers of the magical world acquiesce to the behavior of these students, at most secretly guiding them to avoid leaking secrets or something; or as we just worried, all of this was designed by wizards... In either case, it means a steady stream of exclusive reports!"

The breathing in the conference room became heavy.

Rita Skeeter glanced at the others calmly. She just thought of a perfect title for herself: the uncrowned king.

...

At the same time, the most powerful people in the British government were participating in a cabinet meeting. Every participant was carefully selected, including the leader of the opposition.

"Can we send out troops..." The Minister of Defense said tentatively in the middle of the meeting.

"I disagree!" The Prime Minister slammed the table.

"Mr. Prime Minister, don't forget that you are our Prime Minister." The leader of the opposition warned the Prime Minister, and he said maliciously: "I suspect that you have been bewitched by those wizards... In fact, this possibility is very high. Legend has it that wizards can summon demons and brew mind-confusing potions. Only burning crosses can subdue them..."

"Are you a fool?" The Prime Minister said angrily, "Or do you plan to launch a modern witch hunt? But your opponents are not the defenseless women of centuries ago, but the guys who really control magic. The strongest of them can destroy a city with just one person, and - damn, yes, that person happens to use the fire you are proud of!"

"This is impossible! How can they be so strong?" The Home Secretary shouted.

In fact, what he wanted to say was, why are wizards so strong and willing to hide?

"There are only a few who are that strong, and they are rare," the Prime Minister said with a strange expression: "According to what I saw in the data, there have been only four in the past two hundred years, and three of them are in the UK. I don't know whether I should be proud or uh-" "Are

they all still alive?" The Chancellor of the Exchequer asked cautiously.

"Two of them died," the Prime Minister said: "To put it in a way we can understand, one of them is good and one is bad. The good one is highly respected. He is the headmaster of a wizarding school. He fought against two generations of Dark Lords alone. Unfortunately, he died recently. If it weren't for him, wizards and us might have gone to war a long time ago."

He really felt it was a pity. Although the Prime Minister had never met Dumbledore, just from the attitudes of the two Ministers of Magic, he could outline in his mind an image of a man whose political prestige was so high that no one could match him.

The leader of the opposition asked coldly: "What if a war breaks out? Will we lose?"

The Prime Minister looked at him strangely.

"Haven't I made it clear enough? Or do you insist on having a street fight with tens of thousands of people with strange abilities on British soil? They are organized and have a regime similar to ours, which means they are more difficult to deal with than terrorists. I remember the last time we sent hundreds of police to deal with a dozen violent elements, and ended up destroying a whole block! Even if we win in the end, what can we gain - oh, not to mention that they now have two great wizards who can destroy cities at will, one of whom is restricted by the magic oath, and the other intends to integrate wizards into society through negotiations. Do you plan to ruin this situation and let two humanoid nuclear bombs join hands to deal with us?"

"Does what you said represent the "Rose Support Stupid Milk" attitude?" The Prime Minister asked aggressively, not forgetting to set a trap for his opponent.

The leader of the opposition was speechless. After a while, he asked a sharp question:

"Are you sure all this information is true? I haven't heard of any city being destroyed by wizards. Only we have done it ourselves -" He stopped talking awkwardly.

"The answer you want is in the information." The Prime Minister shirked responsibility and said, "As for whether it is true or not, I am not sure, so I came to discuss it with you."

"They, um, what abilities do wizards have? I mean, have you seen it with your own eyes?" The Minister of Defense asked a reliable question.

The Prime Minister thought for a moment and said, "I have only dealt with two Ministers of Magic. They will not cast spells in front of me casually, but it is just what I saw with my own eyes-" His expression suddenly became serious and solemn.

"Wizards can stick things to the wall, and conventional means cannot be removed; wizard portraits have wisdom and can communicate with people-I am not sure if it is all like this; they can also turn objects into small animals, and the naked eye cannot distinguish between true and false. It is called Transfiguration. They have a series of magical disciplines-" "

Can wizards become another person?" The Minister of Defense asked breathlessly.

"I don't know." The Prime Minister shook his head and continued, "They can also appear and disappear out of thin air, but I have only seen it once. Most of the time they appear through the fireplace-"

"Fireplace!" The Minister of Defense and the Home Secretary shouted in unison, as if they were terrified.

"Why?" The Prime Minister asked curiously.

"Have you ever counted," the Home Secretary said grimly, "how many fireplaces are there in the whole UK?" The Prime Minister

was startled at first, then the rest of the expression on his face disappeared, and fear emerged little by little.

No need to say more - the British have a strong love for fireplaces. Basically, every household will buy a beautiful fireplace, even if it is not burned several times a year, but it must be there!

The government also regards the fireplace as an important position of British traditional culture. With the continuous development of technology, people no longer need fireplaces for heating, but the government still strives to provide people with cleaner fireplace coal.

Think about how many scenes of warmth, power, or family reunion in British literary works have fireplaces?

In the blazing flames, the fireplace has witnessed the warmth and happiness of countless families, the beautiful vows between lovers, and the laughter of friends... And now, if you have hostility towards wizards, the first thing you do is to call on the public to tear down tens of millions of fireplaces?

The Prime Minister couldn't help but shudder.

His already unsteady heart was shaken even more at this moment. The connection between wizards and ordinary people was much closer than he thought. If he wanted to deal with wizards, he had to start a fireplace war without gunpowder. That was cutting flesh! If all the influence of wizards was eliminated, what would be left of this land?

"These wizards are so abominable!"

"Rats in the sewer!"

"Too shameless!"

After a fierce condemnation. The conference room was quiet again, and everyone looked at each other. The Prime Minister looked around, and finally asked helplessly: "So-does everyone agree to tentatively contact wizards?"

No one said anything.

"I understand, I hope everyone will continue to adhere to this resolution in the next congressional meeting."

Outside the conference room, Kingsley, as the Prime Minister's assistant, pricked up his ears. Fireplace? He never thought that a small fireplace would become the key. Maybe he was too accustomed to it. He walked away quietly. The discussion in the conference room continued, but it was no longer relevant to the overall situation-

"Should we seek help from the church? They are professionals." Someone suggested.

"Idiot, haven't you dealt with them? If they can really spread miracles, would they still be like that? They themselves are blasphemous!"

"Cough cough cough!" The Prime Minister coughed rapidly.

"Well, at least they might keep some records."

"Speaking of this - it suddenly occurred to me that the Queen is nominally the supreme leader of the church..."

"You want the royal family to get involved?"

"For such a big thing, it's better to share some of the pressure..."

...

The Dursleys.

"I knew it, just watch!" Vernon pointed at the TV and said triumphantly, "Those guys in the gutter can't hide anymore. Someone will stop them. I really hope the government will catch them one by one -"

He suddenly propped up his body, his little eyes turned twice vigilantly, "If that's the case, will they use our home as a refuge and forcibly requisition our house? I think that the staff of the Ministry of Magic is sneaky and has no good intentions."

Dudley stared at his father.

"Alas, not everyone who has anything to do with Dudley is as nice as you," Vernon quickly said, turning to look at Petunia, "Should we call the police secretly - while that kid is not here?"

"No!" Aunt Petunia shouted, and said fiercely: "Absolutely no one should know!"

Vernon's fat body trembled, and he muttered softly: "Okay, okay... I just said it casually, it's all the fault of that freak," he suddenly got angry, "He doesn't know any etiquette, just like his father, he just asked someone to bring back a message -"

He spitted and cursed for ten minutes, then leaned on the sofa and panted, turned his head to look at the photo on the mantelpiece - although they used an electric stove to keep warm in winter, they still maintained this tradition, otherwise they would be gossiped.

The neighbors around knew that the Dursleys were a very, very obedient family.