My Hogwarts has a serious problem.

Chapter 430, Section 427: Sweaters and Scrap

Massachusetts.

Most people may not recognize the name, but its other names, Massachusetts or Massachusetts State, are familiar to many.

Several of the United States’ most famous universities, including world-renowned institutions such as Harvard University and MIT, are located in this state.

Massachusetts is not only a major state for education in the United States, but also an educational center for the entire world.

This world is certainly not limited to the Muggle world.

In the wizarding world, Massachusetts also holds a special place.

One of the greatest magic schools in the magical world, Ilvermorny Academy of Magic, is located atop Mount Greylock in western Massachusetts.

This is also a magnificent castle, which has been enchanted by American wizards, so Muggles can never see the full view of the magic school under normal circumstances.

Sometimes, the stone walls can only be seen faintly under the cover of clouds and mist.

It was summer vacation, and the castle of Evamony was very deserted. Apart from the Pukchi (distant relatives of the British fairies, but they had a good relationship with the founder of Evamony and had once helped the founder of the magic academy defend against foreign invasion, and later served as the school's security guards and construction workers) who were patrolling around, there were very few wizards to be seen.

In a small, cramped office.

The place was filled with all sorts of crystal balls and teacups, leaving barely enough space for two people to fit in.

At that moment, two people squeezed into the small room.

"Why don't we go out and talk? Why do we always have to do it here?"

The speaker was Tina Picqueli, the head of the Major Crimes Investigation Division of the Magical Congress of the United States.

She was a well-dressed witch who looked to be around thirty years old. She was wearing a light, long overcoat and sat in the small room in a somewhat awkward posture.

Sitting opposite her, calmly sipping hot tea, was a middle-aged male wizard whose eyes were covered by a black cloth.

The wizard seemed perfectly comfortable, lounging comfortably in the small, cramped chaise lounge, his voice gentle and clear.

"This is my most familiar environment, where my body and soul can relax. Your coming to see me must be something special, so naturally you'd want me to be in my best condition, right?"

His reasoning was sound, and Picqueri had no room for rebuttal.

The director of the Major Crimes Investigation Division took a deep breath.

"Alright, I do have an important question for you today. Have you heard about the plan that the Executive Division is preparing to begin?"

"I've heard about it."

"So, can you see its future?" Piqueli asked cautiously.

The blindfolded wizard smiled and shook his head, but this was not a denial.

Do you remember what I said to you the last time we met?

"What?" Piqueli was stunned.

"I understand that you are a high-ranking official in Congress and are very busy every day, so may I repeat myself?"

The wizard's voice was very pleasant, like a whirlpool in water, capable of deeply and firmly attracting one's attention.

"Prophecy and spellcasting are essentially no different; they are both abilities gained by generations of wizards who have mastered the rules of magic. It's just that most people can't see through the rules of prophecy, but once you master the method to see through these rules, the result of prophecy is like a sweater made of yarn. If all the yarns are woven into the sweater according to the predetermined pattern, the prophecy will come true. But if even one yarn goes wrong, the sweater will become a waste."

Do you know which line is the easiest to make a mistake with in every sweater?

No, I don't know.

Even though the wizard's eyes were covered, he still gave the impression that he was intently staring at Picqueri the whole time.

"Whether I reveal this prophecy or not is the line where things are most likely to go wrong."

Everyone in Europe knows that the most famous prophecy of the second half of the twentieth century was the one about Voldemort's death.

Voldemort knew he would be killed by the boy born that night. Although he was lawless and didn't believe he would have such a fate, he still planned to kill the boy on the night of his birth. But as you know, he was defeated by a newborn baby.

If this prophecy hadn't been known to outsiders when it was first uttered, perhaps the future would have unfolded differently, and the finished sweater would have become a useless piece of junk.

"You mean," Piqueli said softly, "that Voldemort wouldn't have died if he hadn't heard that prophecy about his death?"

The wizard shook his head.

"It's just a possibility, or perhaps the wizard who prophesied Voldemort's death was more astute; she saw the implications of this line and knew that if the prophecy were made public, it would become a finished sweater."

But my skill level isn't there yet. I don't know if my prophecy will come true if I speak it aloud, just like last time. If your people hadn't stolen that crystal ball, I would never have spread that prophecy.

Picqueli argued, "We didn't steal it; we just happened to catch the thief."

The wizard didn't argue with her, and nodded in agreement, saying, "Alright, let's leave it at that."

Piquéli remained unfazed by this; those who hold office for a long time not only develop a black heart but also a thick skin.

"After Fontana's plan failed, Dumbledore kept questioning Congress about it at the International Council of Wizards. Congress never responded and denied that we were involved. He kept vetoing all the proposals in Congress at the meeting, but compared to that prophecy, it was all a trivial matter."

"So do you think the actions we take after learning of the prophecy will have the same consequences as Voldemort's? You don't need to tell me the outcome, just tell me whether the consequences are good or bad."

The wizard still wore that friendly smile.

"The future I envision is not ideal for Congress."

Piqué suddenly stood up from the small stool.

"As you said, a prophecy can become a complete sweater, or it can just be a piece of junk. I think we'll turn that prophecy you made three years ago into a piece of junk."

The wizard shrugged, watching Piqueli's departing figure, and muttered to himself.

"You want to ask me questions, but you don't like my answers. Since you don't believe in fate, why did you come to me? Women are such troublesome creatures."

(End of this chapter)