A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts Chapter 688: Fireplace

Chapter 690 Fireplace (ask for double monthly pass!)

Rita Skeeter walked into the conference room half anxiously and half excitedly. She looked around, and there were several important figures and well-known writers in the newspaper—the fat executive, the serious old woman who was optimistic about her, and her competitors. Melissa, and two or three of the best of their respective genres, one of whom she knew had a good obituary.

They looked dignified, as if something important had happened.

"Rita, you're here." The serious woman said kindly. There were several letters in front of her, one of which had already been opened. "How is the rest? Didn't leave any sequelae, after all, it's those weird magic?"

"It's much better." Skeeter said vaguely, "I slept and felt fine. Oh, yes," she took out two manuscripts from the crocodile bag, "I wrote them. "

The woman took it in surprise.

"This is my review of yesterday's incident. Because I'm not sure about the attitude of the newspaper, I chose two angles to describe it." Skeeter said calmly.

"I'm very satisfied." The serious woman nodded, she flipped through the manuscript casually, and put down the manuscript without looking at it carefully. She put her hands on the table and leaned forward, "But the situation has changed now, we received this." One of her ring-wearing hands tapped the envelope on the table, "And it happens to be related to you."

"Is it related to me?" Skeeter repeated in doubt.

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 card in front of Rita Skeeter.

"Read and read."

Rita Skeeter scraped the card up with the long nail of her little finger, held it in her hand, and carefully read the writing on it. At a glance, she found that the handwriting was messy and not formal enough. Thinking of what Haipu said last night, she guessed that it might have been transcribed by a student? She cleared her throat:

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

Another: A Muggle-born friend of mine recognized the female reporter who appeared on the news. She should be the first person to interview a wizard, right? So we sent it to you. It's over, that's all for the above. "

Rita Skeeter looked up and saw that the reporters present were staring at her jealously, and she suddenly realized that the title of "the first reporter to interview a wizard" had played a role. The serious woman said nothing, and pushed the opened letter over again.

Skeeter opened the letter and read it aloud in public. "I have a friend..." After reading halfway, she locked the sender's identity. The famous Harry Potter is known to everyone in the wizarding world. With the reappearance of the Dark Lord Voldemort, his two friends have also become well-known. Unyielding was established as a model and won the Order of Merlin.

Through various clues, she judged that the letter came from the youngest son of the Weasley family, Ron Weasley.

"It's over?" The fat supervisor said unsatisfactorily, "It's quite interesting, but some words don't make sense." Several other reporters also nodded.

"It's over." Skeeter said dryly. She couldn't see anything interesting at all. If she got the news early, she would definitely create a series of controversial articles. Of course, whether it is praise or criticism Still in between.

A reporter is about to make an opinion, but the serious woman stops him.

"Read the whole letter and we'll discuss it."

Rita Skeeter looked left and right, grabbed the second letter, tore it open, and read it aloud, "I have a friend..." Well, she thought, just had the savior in her head, the savior's letter It just appeared, if it wasn't arranged by Haipu, she dared to eat the parchment.

Then followed the third-and final letter, which Rita Skeeter read for a while, unable to guess who wrote it.

“…I like to lie in the small garden when the weather is hot.

The flower branches of mistletoe divide the sky into small grids, and the sky between the grids flows into each other. The dust in the sun is suspended next to the white berries of mistletoe. It is very beautiful, and maybe the goblins in the garden think so. Goblins are not very good at talking, except for spitting and grimacing, their greatest pleasure is carrying white berries home. I left a boot in the garden when I was little, hoping they would move in one day, and I later built a house for them with my dad.

There are also pimple vines planted in the garden. Often resembling dead tree stumps, this charming plant has a gnarled, occasionally colored scar (some say a bug infestation). Dad won't let me touch it, because the pimple vine is a kind of fragile and kind plant. It can sweep away the bad mood nearby. The secret is the grapefruit-sized pods it produces.

'Those bad emotions are hidden in the pod, and it grows bigger and bigger until it can't hold it and bursts itself. ’ said Dad.

We watch in awe as the pods burst open.

The sun was scorching, and my father and I held a lotus leaf umbrella to prevent sweating. It usually takes several hours to wait, and suddenly there is a popping sound, the green skin splits, and a light green, twisted earthworm-like thing flows out from the inside. They still squirmed at first, but then gradually quieted down, making one wonder if they were dead, but Dad said it was just the bad moods coming out of their shells and becoming annoying buggers.

A harasser gadfly is a noxious creature that floats into one's ear and messes with the mind. They can be invisible, when you hear the buzzing and then get irritated, that's evidence of their presence, Papa worked out a siphon to deal with them, but the pimple vines make too many of them, we There must be another way.

The solution is to perform a special ceremony that looks like some kind of dance.

Let the happy emotions fill the brain first, so that it can briefly resist the attack of the disturbing horsefly, and then dance the arms around the head, while constantly circling in place-like trying to drive away mosquitoes. The purpose of this is to tell the harassment fly that my mind is already occupied by other emotions and I don't need you, so they fly away.

The ceremony is very tiring, but also very happy. In order to reward myself, Dad usually cooks a pot of fish soup with colored balls.

Dad is proficient in many recipes, and I help catch fish in the creek. There are many different types of ballfish, some of them are dangerous, like the bigmouth ballfish, if someone overfishes their kind, they will rush out of the water with their big mouths open and attack them, so I carry Bring some Gordi roots to prevent such accidents (I also keep some sage and mallow for fire divination, or other useful things, such as large agaric mushrooms)..."

Rita Skeeter stared at the outrageously weird words, they seemed so out of place, did something go wrong?

"Harassing Gadfly." The fat supervisor was thoughtful.

"A plant that absorbs bad emotions." Melissa murmured.

"Does it work for ordinary people to practice the dance of repelling harassing horseflies?" asked another reporter.

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

"Okay, that's what I said. The situation has changed." The serious woman sat upright and said, "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 non-painful criticism article...the reason why we are not in a hurry to express our attitude is because we are special. Rita was lucky to have contact with wizards, and even she herself became an excellent material , so I am waiting for her to come back and prepare to create a series of news around her."

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

"...the difference, the journalism industry can't follow others' opinions, you have to have your own thinking. But this is unusual. If wizards are defined as terrorists, we will probably cause trouble if we speak for them. I am in a dilemma At that time, I received these letters. What do you think the newspaper office should do? Should it be handed over to the authorities, or—"

"It must not be handed over!" Everyone shouted in unison.

Smiling on serious woman's tense face. "Very well, if anyone thinks so, I will immediately tell him to pack up his things and leave. The question now is, what attitude should we adopt, and is the content of these letters credible?"

Everyone lowered their heads and thought about it. They all realized that this was an interview. Whoever said what he said was more in line with his heart, and then the resources of the entire newspaper office would revolve around that person.

"How about adopting a neutral attitude and forwarding these letters truthfully, so we stay out of the matter?" The fat supervisor said tentatively.

The serious woman looked at him.

"Perhaps a tactful criticism?" The fat supervisor said uncertainly, "There is too little useful information at present, only a few letters without beginning and end, what if it is the conspiracy of those wizards..."

The serious woman was about to speak when Rita Skeeter interjected, "It's not ruled out." But then she asked, "But does it matter to us?"

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

"Whether there are magical organizations involved or not—oh, from these letters, you should be able to see that wizards are a small organized society, not stragglers. They have schools, hospitals, law enforcement agencies, gathering areas..." Skeeter pointed to the letter and said, "Aside from these specific contents, these letters themselves are equally significant: when other newspapers are still running around like headless chickens, we have already caught up with the mysterious wizard. Line, uh, even though it is only a one-line connection, this is an excellent start."

It's not that other people don't know these things, but that they have a heavy responsibility, and they are hesitating. But Rita Skeeter, a woman, has no psychological burden, and appears very decisive in the eyes of others.

The fat director frowned and said: "If these letters are just isolated cases, it's a few—well, a few wizards in school, my God! Wizards also go to school, why does it sound so weird—cough , I mean, what if this is just a whim of a few wizarding students at school?"

"I do have this concern." The serious woman said. She is afraid that she will be overtaken by other media because she speaks for wizards, or because her criticism and analysis are not sharp and comprehensive enough, and she does not make full use of these materials.

"I don't think so." Skeeter said confidently, her confidence did not come from the analysis, but from the conversation last night. After knowing the conclusion, the backward process becomes extremely easy.

"Think about it, after these articles are sent out, no matter whether it is the impulse of a few students or not, as long as one of the contents of the letter is true-that is, wizards have their own law enforcement agencies, they will definitely find out This matter. At that time, there will be nothing more than two results:”

The more Rita Skeeter said, the more confident she became. She raised two thick fingers:

"For the first result, the law enforcement officers came to the door and ordered those students not to write to us again, but this approach—"

"It doesn't make much sense," the serious woman answered, "because the wizard has already exposed his existence, and doing so is just pretending to be deaf and dumb."

"That's right," Skeeter said loudly, "in the second result, the law enforcement officers of the wizarding world acquiesced to the behavior of these students, at most secretly guiding them to avoid leaking secrets or something; or as we just worried about Yes, all of this was designed by the wizard... No matter what the situation is, it means a steady stream of exclusive reports!"

The breathing in the conference room became heavy.

Rita Skeeter glanced at the others calmly. She had just thought of an excellent title for herself: the Uncrowned King.

…

At the same time, several of the most powerful people in the British government are participating in a cabinet meeting. Every participant is carefully selected, even the leader of the opposition party.

"Can we send troops..." In the middle of the meeting, the Minister of Defense said tentatively.

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

"Mr. Prime Minister, don't forget that you are our Prime Minister." The leader of the opposition party warned the Prime Minister. Sorcerers can summon demons and brew potions to deceive people, and only the burning cross can subdue them..."

"Are you a fool?" said the Prime Minister angrily, "or are you going to launch a modern witch hunt? But your opponents are not the unarmed women of centuries ago, but the real magicians. The strongest group can destroy a city with only one person, and—damn, yes, that person happens to use the flame you are proud of!"

"It's impossible! How can they be so strong?" the Home Secretary cried out.

Actually, what he wants to say is, why is the wizard so strong, and why he is willing to hide it?

"There are only a few that are so strong, it can be called rare," the Prime Minister said with a strange look: "According to what I have seen in the data, there have only been four in the past two hundred years, and three of them are in the UK. I don't know. Should I be proud or uh—"

"Are they still alive?" asked the Chancellor cautiously.

"Two died," said the prime minister. "In terms we can understand, one of them was good and the other was bad. The good one was highly respected. He was the headmaster of the wizarding school. He fought against two generations of Dark Lords by himself. Unfortunately, he passed away recently. If it weren't for him, maybe the wizard and us would have broken out at war long ago."

He really felt sorry. Although the prime minister had never met Dumbledore, he could picture in his mind an image of political prestige that no one could match just from the attitude of the two ministers of magic.

The leader of the opposition party asked coldly: "What if there is a war, will we lose?"

The prime minister looked at him strangely.

"Am I not clear enough? Or are you determined to fight a street battle with tens of thousands of people with strange abilities in the UK? They are organized and have a regime similar to ours, which means They're harder to deal with than terrorists, I remember the last time we sent a few hundred cops to a dozen violent ones, we smashed up a block! Even if we win in the end, what do we gain - oh, let alone what they're doing now There are two archmages who destroy the city at every turn, one of them is restricted by the magic oath, and the other intends to integrate the wizard into the society through negotiations, you plan to ruin this situation and let the two humanoid nuclear bombs join hands to deal with us?"

"Does what you said represent the attitude of your party?" The Prime Minister asked aggressively, not forgetting to dig a hole for his opponent.

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

"Are you sure these materials are true? I haven't heard of any city being destroyed by wizards, only we have done it—" He stopped talking embarrassingly.

"The information contains the answer you want." The Prime Minister shirked responsibility and said, "As for the truth or falsehood, I'm not sure, so I consulted with you."

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

The prime minister thought for a while and said, "I have only dealt with two ministers of magic. They don't cast spells in front of me at will, but it's just what I saw with my own eyes—" His expression suddenly became serious, dignified.

"Wizards can stick things on the wall, which cannot be removed by conventional means; the portraits of wizards are intelligent and can communicate with people-I'm not sure if this is the case; they can also turn objects into small animals. Unable to distinguish between true and false, it is called transfiguration, and they have a series of magical disciplines—"

"Can a wizard become another person?" asked the Secretary of Defense under his breath.

"I don't know." The Prime Minister shook his head, and he continued: "They can still appear and disappear out of thin air, but I only saw it once, and most of the time they appeared through the fireplace-"

"Fireplace!" cried the Secretary of State for Defense and the Secretary of the Home Office in unison, seemingly terrified.

"What?" the Prime Minister asked strangely.

"Have you ever counted," said the Home Secretary grimly, "how many fireplaces are there in England?"

The prime minister was startled for a moment, then the rest of the expression on his face disappeared, and fear emerged little by little.

Needless to say - the British have a strong fireplace plot, basically every household will buy a beautiful fireplace, even if it can't be burned a few 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 science and technology, people no longer need fireplaces for heating, but the government still strives to provide people with cleaner and cleaner fireplace coal.

Think about how many scenes in British literature that are either warm, intriguing, or reunited with relatives and friends have fireplaces?

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

The Prime Minister shivered.

His unsteady heart was shaken even more at this moment. The connection between wizards and ordinary people is far closer than he imagined. If you want to deal with wizards, you must first fight a fireplace war without gunpowder smoke. ! Take out all the influence of wizards, what is left of this land?

"These wizards are too hateful!"

"Rats in the sewer!"

"Too shameless!"

After a burst of fierce condemnation. The conference room fell silent again, and everyone looked at each other in blank dismay. The Prime Minister looked left and right, and finally was forced to ask helplessly: "So——everyone agrees 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 meeting room, Kingsley, who was the assistant to the Prime Minister, raised his ears. fireplace? He never thought that a small fireplace would be the key, maybe he was too used to it. He walked away quietly, and the discussion in the conference room continued, but it was irrelevant—

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

"Idiot, haven't you dealt with them? If they can really spread miracles, what kind of virtue will they be? They themselves are blasphemy!"

"Cough, cough, cough!" The Prime Minister let out a series of hurried coughing sounds.

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

"Speaking of this - I suddenly remembered that the queen is the nominal supreme leader of the church..."

"You want to involve the royal family?"

"For such a big matter, it's better to share some pressure..."

…

The Dursleys.

"I knew it, just watch it!" Feinon pointed to the TV and said triumphantly, "The guys in the gutter can't hide at last, someone will stop them, I really hope the government will take them all out." Grab them all—"

He suddenly supported himself~IndoMTL.com~ His small eyes turned twice vigilantly, "If this is the case, will they use our house as a refuge and forcibly requisition our house? I see that the Ministry of Magic The staff is sneaky and has no good intentions.”

Dudley stared at his father.

"Well, not everyone who has anything to do with Dudley is as nice as you," Fernon said quickly, turning his head to look at Petunia, "shall we call the police secretly—while that kid isn't around?"

"No!" Aunt Petunia yelled, vehemently: "It must not be known!"

The fat on Fernon's body trembled, and he muttered under his breath, "Okay, okay... I'm just saying it, it's all about that freak," he suddenly became angry, "I don't know etiquette at all, Like his father, he asked someone to bring back a message—"

He slobbered and cursed for ten minutes, then leaned on the sofa, panting, and turned his head to look at the picture on the mantelpiece—even though they used an electric stove for heating in winter, they still maintained this Tradition, otherwise people will gossip.

Neighbors around knew that the Dursleys were a very, very well-behaved family.