The Evil Thoughts of Hogwarts and the Genie

Chapter 102 Third-Party Forces

Before the Unforgivable Curse was fired at Oscar Soman, just one hour into the Christmas dinner,

Everything was calm and peaceful.

Several elderly wizards with graying beards sipped their wine and hummed German songs; a group of formally dressed Ministry of Magic officials chatted and laughed, their beards twitching.

The ladies in beautiful dresses mostly chatted and laughed about everyday things; the witches in formal attire also huddled together, whispering to each other.

The children either stayed in the side hall or lingered near the dining table. Only the little ones seemed interested in whether the food would be delicious or how many desserts would be served.

Overall, only the unfamiliar faces who spoke English stood out. Curious and enthusiastic wizards struck up conversations with them, quickly ascertaining their identities: celebrities and politicians, which was not surprising.

However, the presence of these British wizards reminded the locals of that strange rumor that, for some unknown reason, Deputy Minister Soman had the idea to invite Albus Dumbledore to a banquet.

The German wizards who heard the rumors generally did not believe it. Although old Mr. Soman was ultimately no match for Dumbledore and had to send his only son to study in England in a humiliating way, this also proved that his conflict with Dumbledore was still there and there was no possibility of reconciliation.

Right, right?

The Soman family members whispered amongst themselves; many of them were deeply involved with the UMNO party, forming a veritable community of shared interests.

When Grindelwald fell from power, it was this group of people who hated Dumbledore the most.

The Ministry of Magic members also frowned. Grindelwald had been out of office for a long time, and these young people were no longer willing to "repent" for what happened nearly thirty years ago. Ultimately, what business was it of them, the successors, of making mistakes? The vast majority of them respected the Deputy Minister far more.

There's nothing that can be done about it! In the last twenty years, the German Ministry of Magic has had four ministers, but Mr. Soman has remained the deputy minister without fail. Anyone with a brain wouldn't go against the deputy minister's wishes for a minister whose position might be jeopardized at any moment.

In general, even those who heard the news simply considered it another provocation from old Mr. Soman. After all, similar situations had occurred before!

So what about Dumbledore? Yes, he is indeed very famous, but doesn't he still have to consider the international situation of wizarding? If someone dares to attack German officials without cause or trial—is there no law in this world?!

Therefore, it was not only impossible for them to believe that Oscar Soman not only wanted to admit defeat to Dumbledore, but was even preparing to surrender to him!

Everyone stayed in their own places, thinking about things that were "perfectly reasonable," and no one thought that anything extraordinary had happened at the banquet.

Thinking back, probably no one could have imagined that the final battle between Dumbledore and Grindelwald would take place on that day, 26 years ago.

The moment Mr. Soman stepped into the banquet hall, the entire space fell silent for at least a second. For some reason, he was dressed very simply today, not even wearing a priest's robe.

However, his supporters naturally interpreted it as a natural and relaxed expression of closeness, rather than an attempt to elicit sympathy or play the victim.

"Mr. Deputy Minister!" "Your Excellency Soman!" "Oscar, dear Oscar!"

Greetings spread like ripples, and wherever old Mr. Soman went, these fawning smiles, perfectly timed bows, and warm greetings followed.

But Oscar couldn't smile today. Fortunately, he usually appears aloof and reserved, so no one thought he was in a bad mood.

However, when his gaze swept across the crowd and he didn't see that—the "protagonist" who should have been there—old Mr. Soman felt a sudden pang of unease. He turned to ask the butler, and after hesitating for two seconds upon receiving the reply, he finally gave an order.

A moment later, Elena arrived, looking puzzled. She was as beautiful as ever; her red hair alone surpassed all the jewels in the world, making her more beautiful than any flower.

Oscar hadn't seen Elena for months. Neither of them would budge on that matter, and the rift between them was widening, gradually becoming irreparable, even surpassing the mystery of Istas's death, becoming an insurmountable chasm between them.

This made his gaze greedy, precious. A storm was brewing, and Oscar cherished every second he could have with Elena. —Therefore, therefore, it took him several seconds to realize:

"Elena, my dear—where is he?"

After saying this, old Mr. Soman's face turned pale.

Wearing a moon-white evening gown, Elena testified that Oscar rarely mentioned his son, which made her vaguely aware of something strange.

"Edmund took his little friend to my dressing room," Elena replied softly. "The boy and the girl were dressed rather simply."

Elena sighed softly as she finished speaking.

"And he didn't prepare a Christmas present for the child, but said he would give her a piece of jewelry as compensation."

"But the girl dared not accept it—" Elena smiled complicatedly.

Old Mr. Soman was already getting impatient. He was anxious, even though he knew perfectly well that the thing could never know his plans. He hadn't told anyone about his decision, not even his wife!

Therefore, the genie couldn't have escaped beforehand, right? He didn't need to be so agitated, refusing to even listen to his wife.

Having barely calmed himself down, Oscar overheard his wife's last words. This stirred up his memories, and inexplicably, he suddenly remembered that the girl Ed had invited, in terms of family background, actually bore a resemblance to Elena.

And her reluctance to accept expensive gifts is very similar to that of Elena in the past.

Whether Elena also remembered the bitter past, she looked up at Oscar and saw that her husband was also looking at her.

"It's just a gift," Oscar said softly. "Nothing special. Let him take it—I can find something better for you, darling."

He took his wife's hand, something he hadn't done in a long time, and Elena didn't refuse.

The woman smiled slightly, still with that same shy demeanor:

"Sometimes I can't help but think—he's a lot like you."

Oscar froze.

Whether Elena noticed or not, she continued talking.

"He loves to put on airs, and sometimes he's so glib."

Furthermore, I'm not sure, but I have a feeling that he also likes the redhead.

Elena shook her head with amusement and took her husband's hand tightly.

"I'm so happy today, Oscar—darling. I'm so glad you've come to this realization—after all, what conflicts can there be between a father and son?"

"He's throwing a tantrum, are you going to throw one too? He's your son, Oscar—that has never changed."

Leaving aside how old Mr. Soman felt a chill run through him and gradually felt despair after hearing his wife's words.

For some reason, things went wrong at the banquet, where they shouldn't have. A scream rang out from the crowd.

The guests became restless.

The Somans had no choice but to put aside their unfinished conversation—which they couldn't reach an agreement on—and hurry off in that direction.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out that a female customer had fallen to the ground, but for some reason, bright red blood had stained the hem of her skirt.

The witch looked up, and Oscar was immediately pleased. It turned out to be Alan Graham from the Memory Deletion Command. The witch had always harbored ulterior motives towards him, which annoyed him greatly. Oscar stopped in his tracks, put his arm around his wife, and did not go any further.

"Call the therapist!" Old Mr. Soman calmly ordered, his gaze sweeping over Allen's deathly pale face.

The witch seemed to have applied an exquisite and bizarre exotic makeup to her face, with gold powder floating at the corners of her eyes.

When he looked at her, Allen's expression twisted, his lips trembled, and his body struggled forward—she seemed to want to say something to him, but the pain prevented her from speaking.

The atmosphere immediately became awkward, with glances shifting between Allen and Elena. This offense, this implication...

This was something Oscar could never tolerate. He coldly glanced back, causing the onlookers to awkwardly look away. Only then did he help his wife away, completely ignoring the complex pain and pleading in Alan's eyes.

？■

Therefore, he neither heard nor saw anything. Allen, who had been speechless for a long time, stared at his back and made a sudden, strange click of his tongue.

"Like."

This was just a minor accident, an unnoticed interlude. Therefore, naturally no one realized that the devil had arrived.