A certain Hogwarts professor of runes

Chapter 725 Pages

As Christmas approaches, the festive atmosphere is overshadowed by a solemn and dignified air. Everyone's heart is heavy, as if they, like the Christmas trees in the auditorium, are adorned with invisible holly and mistletoe ribbons. News and photos about New York Harbor are increasing, from traffic jams caused by blizzards to the deployment of army, navy, air force, marines, and coast guard troops to the harbor, and the United Nations headquarters' call for calm and restraint from both sides... all of which are increasingly stirring up the public's already tense nerves.

Initially, the White House did try to portray the conflict as an "exercise"—"helping wizards understand the situation and their place in the world." But it quickly found that this wouldn't work.

As the unusual silence and resilience of the entire wizarding world, coupled with the growing global outcry over the news of "hundreds of young wizards being illegally imprisoned and abused for over two decades," quickly turned their guns on the legitimacy of the Federation and Alliance Charter.

The White House publicly stated that wizards are a minority and should abide by US law. However, when reporters pressed him for his opinion on the 200-page list of criminals provided by the International Federation of Wizarding Societies and the International Pan-Magic Alliance, the spokesperson remained silent. Meanwhile, the federal courts, representing justice and public order, collectively fell silent at this crucial moment.

A public relations expert from across the ocean, much like Luna, succinctly revealed the unpleasant truth:

"The secret of the conflict is written on the last page of the Charter of the Federation and Alliance."

When people, filled with curiosity, picked up magnifying glasses to carefully examine the densely packed signatures on the document, they were astonished to discover that the truth was so simple:

Next to the signature of 'Felix Heap'—a name now known to everyone, with over three hundred organizations in North America alone inexplicably trying to associate themselves with him—a line of small, dark green text clearly reads:

"The above laws are acknowledged and signed by all representatives of the magical world, and are authorized to be enforced by the Archmage."

Some people suddenly realized what was happening, recalling the solemn announcement made a few days earlier by the spokesperson of the International Federation of Wizards that Felix Heap had been ordered to take away American wizards facing personal threats, but before that, he would participate as the sole wizard representative in what the spokesperson said in a mocking tone—a so-called peace exercise.

"This is Mr. Hyp's personal choice, and I don't want to analyze his intentions in detail. All I can do is pray for him, just as we waited for the outcome of that legendary duel half a century ago."

In the days that followed, various tabloids used eye-catching words such as "cruel" and "bloody," and some even went so far as to use the headline "Black Christmas."

On the morning of Christmas Eve, the time came and the whole world quieted down.

The dawn light was a cool, deep blue; the weather was cold and dry. Dozens of warships loitered like ghosts a few kilometers from the harbor, their movements creating a turbulent atmosphere in the ice-free port. At least hundreds of Earth-observation satellites were pointed at the area, capable of capturing images down to the centimeter level.

In an underground command center deep within the port, the atmosphere was unusually tense. Just over ten minutes earlier, a phone call had come in, informing them that "it has begun." Thus, an operation bearing the word "hunt" was launched in earnest. Suddenly, an abnormal disturbance appeared in a satellite image.

A group of people gathered around the satellite screen that had malfunctioned.

"What happened?"

"It's unclear at the moment!"

"What about ground radar?"

"Aside from the marked helicopters, fighter jets, and warships, no moving targets were detected."

At this moment, a civilian staff member raised his hand to signal: "Report, report, the current situation is similar to one of the situations described in the issued manual."

"explain!"

"Magic disturbance".

The commander looked utterly bewildered. "Someone on the satellite?" A monitoring officer with his back to the general muttered quietly, "That guy's even been to the moon." His unspoken implication was that compared to the moon, what was the distance of a satellite? The general rudely interrupted, "There's absolutely no evidence that he ever landed on the moon! Except for that bit of dust—"

As soon as the words were spoken, a young profile appeared on the screen, the corners of his mouth moving as if he were talking to himself, but unfortunately, the sound couldn't be heard. Then the screen went dark.

The general swallowed hard and asked, "Did anyone see what he said?"

The command room was completely silent. After a few seconds, a voice came from the corner, "Judging from his English pronunciation, I think he meant..." The voice paused, seemingly incredulous, "U...S...A..."

Over the next ten minutes, the hundreds of panels on the large screen went out one by one, the images like flames extinguished by an unseen hand in the darkness when humanity first took control of civilization. The air conditioner in the room seemed to have completely broken down, and the temperature was as suffocatingly cold as the freezing weather outside.

Three more minutes passed, and the image continued to appear. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; less than half of the satellite image remained intact. Just as they were catching their breath, the phone in the command center rang incessantly.

"Shut those good-for-nothings!" the general roared. "The target may have been abandoned. Immediately mobilize the remaining satellites, turn the radar power to maximum, and tell the helicopters, reconnaissance planes, and fighter jets to search with all their might—"

Hundreds of fighter jets patrolled the sky, leaving long white contrails. The sky was cut into fine fragments by the "white smoke," like an intricate chessboard, encircling the morning star that had not yet completely disappeared.

When the early warning aircraft had climbed to an altitude of nearly 30,000 meters, it finally transmitted a message: "Target detected!! Should we launch an attack?" Then came military radar and satellite positioning, and the image gradually became clear, although it only showed the back of a head.

"Attack," the commander coldly commanded.

Felix was suppressing the urge to use magic, letting himself drift down slowly like a feather. Even though he could fly himself, Felix was still in the mood to make the best of a bad situation by calculating that at his current speed, he would probably land in about three hours…that was a truly long time.

The orange-red flames connected in lines, then intertwined into a net, rushing towards him like a torrential downpour. But thanks to the mental cabin that extended dozens of kilometers away, Felix knew even earlier than the pilots in the fighter jets whether these high-speed machine gun bullets would hit their target—himself. Because this was absolutely a technical feat, and he was simply too small compared to the size of the aircraft.

Felix symbolically dodged a few times, followed by various types of cannons, air-to-air missiles, and laser-guided bombs. The sky turned into a fireworks display, flashing wildly and accompanied by deafening thunder. When another fireball with a radius of over two hundred meters exploded around him, attempting to annihilate him, Felix solemnly merged into the air.

Silence returned. Felix carefully observed the black smoke nearby and the much brighter sky. In the distance, various fighter jets were attempting to turn around, seemingly wanting to come back a few more times.

"At this altitude, we should be able to see very clearly, right?" Felix muttered to himself. Of course, he wasn't speaking to the pilots, or even to the ground commanders, but rather to more than two hundred countries and regimes on Earth—conventional weapons were ineffective against him.

Felix extended his hand and said calmly, "Then let's finish this quickly." With preparations in place, he had plenty of options at his disposal.

Amidst a dazzling pale green light, the sound of a baby crying arose, growing clearer and louder before abruptly ceasing. Felix stood in mid-air, expressionless, lowering his arm. Within the area enveloped by the mind-house, streamlined fighter jets suddenly went out of control, plummeting downwards at an abrupt angle.

The cry of a mature mandrake can be deadly—a spell he had originally intended to seal away forever.

Before long, information about it will be on the desks of world leaders. Its magical effects are comparable to a nuclear bomb—under the influence of immense magical power, it can almost effortlessly envelop a city, creating a dead zone in the blink of an eye, from which even mosquitoes and cockroaches cannot escape. Felix suddenly felt like a merchant peddling death—a spokesperson for Death, demonstrating the product's capabilities to potential buyers, and, fearing the customer might not recognize its value, even including an instruction manual.

Felix knew no one could hear him now, but he still wanted to say something.

"The way things have developed to this point is inevitable. If it weren't the United States, it would have been some other country. The more I consider things, the more meticulous my plans are, even taking into account chaotic places like Africa to avoid war as much as possible... the more I find myself standing on the opposite side of the entire world."

"As a powerful group, wizards should have been put to use by various countries the moment they were exposed, but I delayed this process, which led many to suspect that wizards were all bark and no bite. Indeed, without me... top-tier combat power, wizards would have either rebelled, compromised, or gone into hiding, and some places would have been engulfed in war... Chaos would have inevitably lasted for several years or even decades, but this process would have allowed everyone to give a more realistic assessment. A new order was established in blood and fire, at the cost of countless lives."

"I abhor chaos, so I single-handedly brought about the birth of the Charter of the Federation and Alliance, just as the four most outstanding wizards and witches joined forces to establish Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a thousand years ago. Thinking about it carefully, I had foreseen this scene, as if I saw the future—well, in a way, that's not wrong—so I have a responsibility to ensure that this future becomes an inevitable reality."

From this day forward, everyone will know what it truly means to stand against an archmage, especially an archmage in the realm of ancient runes.

Felix's figure suddenly vanished, and when he reappeared, he was already standing at the edge of the harbor, able to smell the sea. He stretched out his left hand, palm up, and a book, richly colored with magic, appeared out of thin air. He opened the book of magic runes with his right hand, his fingertips lightly brushing the pages, and one of the pages instantly fell off, floating in the air like a feather, completely unaffected by any force.

But in the eyes of skilled sorcerers, this page carries unimaginable magic.

Felix stood ramrod straight, slowly raising his head and scanning the surroundings—though this was unnecessary, as the Mind Chamber had already told him that the nearest helicopter was two kilometers away, the fleet lingering outside the port had not yet turned around, snow was piling up in the distant city, and the reflections from the glass and telescopes on the high-rise buildings were intertwined. He could even faintly hear the roar of motorcycles and excited shouts.

He completely understood. The city before him covered an area of ​​over a thousand square kilometers and was home to nearly eight million people. Of course, most people had temporarily evacuated, causing a massive traffic jam, but a small group of people stubbornly chose to stay and watch the spectacle. The deserted streets left empty gave these people the opportunity to unleash their primal violent desires in broad daylight: steel, leather jackets, motorcycles, muscles, sweat…

Felix estimates that this place may become a source of inspiration for many artists in the coming week.

The next second, the book pages fell to the ground.

Ancient magical runes danced like ice crystals, and icy blue magic suddenly surged, merging with the surrounding biting wind, causing clothes to flutter wildly. This magic was like dye dropped into a pool, spreading out ripples—Felix had cast this spell before, more than once, but the magic it consumed was far less than one-thousandth of what it was now—and the result was that, centered on him, all colors began to fade, leaving only clear lines of buildings and people, with a faint halo reflecting off their surfaces upon closer inspection.

The magic's reach was so vast that it encompassed all the soldiers, command posts, and some warships scattered along the coastline. These people were still alive, of course, but for the next week, they would fall silent along with the city, as if transformed from reality into a panel in a comic book.

Having done all this, Felix stepped out and appeared outside the harbor. The complete silence around him reminded him of his first experience in space, and a daring idea suddenly popped into his head—to roll up New York City like he rolled up Groop's hut in the Burrow and hang it on the door of the White House in Washington. But even he thought the idea was too crazy; he figured that all the available contact methods for Akimbad and Ms. Burns were probably already overwhelmed with calls.

The noises coming from the Mind House reminded him that he had important business to attend to. Felix stood high above, looking down. The sea seemed to have a clear dividing line, one half being the real sea, and the other half being the wave shape he'd only seen in a comic book. He looked at the city again. Not everyone had been 'lined'. He deliberately avoided the wizarding families hidden in the shadows; they were intact and stood out starkly among the chaotic black and white lines.

The most prominent of these is Woolworth Building, which is the headquarters of the Magical Congress of the United States and houses several hundred wizards.

As Horace Greenstinch flew toward him on a broomstick, Felix suddenly realized that the Magical Congress of America might be about to undergo its sixth relocation.

Comments are not showing up right now, but I can see them in the backend. I've already reported the issue, but it might take a while to process due to the holiday.

Also, I noticed some readers in the group didn't understand Felix's actions and reasons, so I'll briefly explain this part of the plot:

Felix and the International Confederation of Wizards and the Ministry of Magic have always hoped that wizards would peacefully integrate into the outside world, and they have done a good job by signing cooperation treaties with various countries through a series of means.

However, the biggest problem is that because the considerations have been too comprehensive, no large-scale conflict has broken out so far. This has resulted in the world's war potential and deterrence level against wizards remaining only on paper. The common idea among all countries is that they actually hope for a conflict (as long as it doesn't happen in their own country). It can be said that this is the last hurdle before moving towards peace.

Felix took on this responsibility all by himself.

……

……

Finally, I wish everyone a happy Dragon Boat Festival!!!

(End of this chapter)