Chapter 794: Chapter 794

Meanwhile, some of the most influential figures in the British government were engaged in a cabinet meeting, carefully selected attendees, including even the leader of the opposition.

"Should we deploy the military...?" the Defence Minister tentatively suggested midway through the meeting.

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

"Prime Minister, don't forget you are our Prime Minister," the leader of the opposition warned, his tone laced with suspicion, "I suspect you've been influenced by those wizards... and indeed, it's quite plausible. Legends say wizards can summon demons, brew potions that beguile the mind, and only burning crosses can subdue them..."

"Are you daft?" the Prime Minister retorted, annoyed, "Or are you intending to start a modern-day witch hunt? But your opponents aren't unarmed women from centuries ago; they're individuals who truly wield magic. Among them, the strongest can destroy a city single-handedly, and—damn it, yes, he happens to wield the very flames you boast about!"

"That's impossible! How can they be so powerful?" the Home Secretary exclaimed.

What he really meant to ask was, why are wizards so powerful yet willingly remain hidden?

"The exceptionally powerful are rare, to say the least," the Prime Minister said with a peculiar expression, "According to the information I've seen, in the past two centuries, there have been only four, with three of them in Britain. I'm not sure whether to be proud or—"

"Are they all still alive?" the Chancellor cautiously interjected.

He genuinely felt it was a loss. Although the Prime Minister had never met Dumbledore, he could envision a figure of immense political stature based on the attitudes of two successive Ministers of Magic.

"Even if war breaks out, do you think we'll lose?" the leader of the opposition coldly inquired.

The Prime Minister looked at him strangely.

"Am I not being clear enough? Or are you intent on engaging in street battles with tens of thousands of individuals with peculiar abilities right here in Britain? They are organized, with a similar governance structure to ours, which means they're harder to handle than terrorists. I recall the last time we sent hundreds of police officers to deal with a dozen violent individuals, and it ended up demolishing a whole neighborhood! Even if we emerge victorious, what do we gain—oh, not to mention they now have two individuals who can level cities at will, one of whom is restricted by magical oaths, and the other intentionally seeks to integrate wizards into society. Do you intend to disrupt this balance and have these two humanoid nuclear bombs join forces against us?"

"Are you speaking for your party with those words?" the Prime Minister pressed, aggressively setting a trap for his opponent.

The leader of the opposition was left speechless, and after a moment, he posed a sharp question:

"Are you sure this information is accurate? I haven't heard of any cities being destroyed by wizards, only by our own actions—" He awkwardly trailed off.

"The answers you seek are in the documents," the Prime Minister deflected responsibility, "As for their authenticity, I'm not certain, which is why I sought your counsel."

"What, uh, abilities do wizards possess exactly? I mean, ones you've seen firsthand?" the Defence Minister asked a sensible question.

The Prime Minister paused, then said, "I've only interacted with two Ministers of Magic. They wouldn't casually perform magic in my presence, but from what I've personally witnessed—" His expression suddenly turned serious and grave.

"Wizards can stick things to walls, things conventional means can't remove; wizard portraits possess intelligence and can communicate with people—I'm not sure if all of them are ; they can also transform objects into small animals, indistinguishable to the naked eye, a practice they call Transfiguration. They have a range of magical disciplines—"

"Can wizards turn into other people?" the Defence Minister asked, holding his breath.

"I don't know," the Prime Minister shook his head, then continued, "They can also apparate, vanish into thin air, but I've only seen it once; most of the time, they appear through fireplaces—"

"Fireplaces!" both the Defence Minister and the Home Secretary exclaimed simultaneously, looking alarmed.

"What's wrong?" the Prime Minister asked, perplexed.

"Have you ever counted," the Home Secretary said, his face turning grim, "How many fireplaces there are in all of Britain?"

The Prime Minister first looked puzzled, then the remaining expressions on his face disappeared, replaced by a creeping sense of fear.

There was no need for further explanation—Britons had a deep-seated attachment to fireplaces; practically every household had a beautiful fireplace, even if it was seldom used throughout the year, it had to be there!

The government also considered fireplaces as important bastions of British traditional culture. In today's era of continuous technological advancement, the populace no longer needed fireplaces for warmth, yet the government still endeavored to provide cleaner and cleaner coal for the people.

Think about how many scenes of warmth, intrigue, and family reunions in British literature involve fireplaces?

In the roaring flames, fireplaces bore witness to countless families' warmth and happiness, lovers' beautiful vows, friends' joyous laughter... And now, if there were to be hostility towards wizards, the first thing would be to call upon the public to dismantle tens of millions of fireplaces?

The Prime Minister couldn't help but shudder.

His already unsteady heart was now even more shaken. The connection between wizards and ordinary people was far tighter than he had imagined. To deal with wizards, one must first engage in a silent war, a battle without smoke, a cutting. What would remain of this land if the influence of wizards were entirely removed?

"These wizards are despicable!"

"Rats in the sewers!"

After a fierce denunciation, the meeting room fell silent again, everyone exchanging glances. The Prime Minister looked around and, finally, reluctantly asked, "So... is everyone in agreement to tentatively engage with the wizards?"

"I understand. I hope everyone will continue to uphold this resolution in the upcoming parliamentary sessions."

Outside the meeting room, Kingsley, the Prime Minister's assistant, perked up his ears. A fireplace? He hadn't considered a simple fireplace could be crucial, perhaps taking it for granted. He quietly slipped away, leaving the ongoing discussion in the meeting room, which was now irrelevant.

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

"Idiot, haven't you had dealings with them? If they truly could perform miracles, would they behave like that? They blaspheme themselves!"

*Cough cough cough* The Prime Minister emitted a series of urgent coughs.

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

"Speaking of which... I suddenly remembered, the Queen is the nominal head of the church..."

"Do you want to involve the royal family?"

"Given the gravity of the situation, it might alleviate some pressure..."

"I knew it, just watch!" Vernon pointed at the television, smugly saying, "Those sewer rats can't hide forever. Someone will stop them. I really hope the government rounds them all up—" ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel•fire.net

He suddenly straightened up, his small eyes alert as he looked around, "If that happens, will they consider our house as a refuge and forcibly take it over? I've seen those Ministry workers sneaking around, up to no good."

Dudley glared at his father.

"Ah, not everyone associated with Dudley is as decent as you," Vernon quickly tried to amend, then turned to Petunia, "Shouldn't we call the police quietly—while the boy's not around?"

"No!" Aunt Petunia exclaimed, her tone vehement, "Absolutely not! We mustn't let anyone know!"

Vernon's fat jiggled as he muttered under his breath, "Fine, fine... just a passing thought. Blame that weirdo," he suddenly erupted, "No manners at all, just like his father, sending messages through people—"

He spat out invectives for ten minutes, then slumped back on the couch, panting heavily, turning to look at the photos on the mantelpiece—even though they used an electric heater for warmth in winter, they maintained this tradition, lest people gossip.

The neighbors knew well that the Dursleys were a very, very rule-abiding family.

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