A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

Mundungus shrank back, avoiding his gaze, and muttered under his breath, "You know what I do—how many times did you arrest me before you retired? This is it, even if the ban is lifted, no one will want to do business with me anymore."

“A Merlin Second Class Medal,” Ms. Burns said curtly.

Mundungus's eyes lit up. He hadn't gained anything during the last war; his contributions were too few, and the few he did have weren't worth mentioning. Unlike the others present, who had all received rewards after the war.

“If that’s the case…” His tone softened, and he seemed quite tempted. Sirius chuckled, and Burns glared at him. “You continue being my secretary.”

“I refuse,” Sirius said nonchalantly. “I have to go on fieldwork.”

Ms. Burns ignored him. "The third thing is, I need some people to go abroad to gather information on the outside world, including the thoughts of local wizarding communities."

The attitudes of the non-magical world towards wizards, etc.

"Are you worried that the conflict will come from abroad?" Lupin asked astutely.

“That’s right. Our representatives at the Federation are sending back a steady stream of messages,” Ms. Burns said gravely, “but unfortunately…”

As far as I know, most of them have adopted a conservative strategy. As she spoke, she glanced at Felix. If she hadn't suffered a series of mental shocks and been mentally prepared for the crisis of the wizarding world's exposure, she probably would have made the same choice as those ministers of magic—actively retreating and leaving it to fate.

The phrase "leaving it to fate" might be a bit of an exaggeration, but apart from them, no other Ministry of Magic has proactively embraced change. The most radical thing they've done is to revive the proposals she previously submitted and hold a meeting to discuss them. The results are expected in two or three months.

“The living conditions for wizards vary from region to region,” Ms. Burns explained. “Wizards in the Americas have strained relations with local governments, and there is a lack of mutual trust between them; the situation in Africa is even more complex, due to differences in language and customs, there are multiple wizarding autonomous organizations that function similarly to the Ministry of Magic, but are much smaller in scale, and we shouldn’t expect them to reach a consensus in the short term.”

After finishing their business, Ms. Burns relaxed, and the group chatted in small groups.

"Where are Harry and the others?" Lupin asked Felix. "When I arrived, I saw you leading them into a meeting room."

“Yes,” Sirius straightened up, his eyes darting around, “Why don’t we assign Harry to me? We can go on missions together. Aside from lacking experience, his combat skills aren’t much weaker than mine.”

Felix glanced at him. Harry's current strength had completely surpassed Sirius's. Sirius was just trying to make himself look good.

He said slowly, "Don't even think about it, they have a ton of homework to do."

"Homework?" Sirius's eyes widened, seemingly confused.

“Yes, they bear the heavy responsibility of breaking down the barriers between wizards and non-wizards,” Felix said, exchanging a glance with Ms. Burns as they recalled their conversation the previous night in Rita Skeeter’s rented apartment.

After experiencing a close encounter with the tornado in front of the Parliament House, Rita Skeeter took half a day off, citing being frightened. The Sun made an exception for her, showing great leniency towards the world's first journalist to publicly interview a wizard (even if she wasn't, she would be portrayed as one). They considered it a historic event comparable to a third kind of encounter and prepared to create a series of hot news stories around her.

In reality, Rita Skeeter was indeed frightened, but not because she was "struck by a wizard's spell" as her superiors believed. Rather, the wizarding world had been completely exposed, and she spent a long time frantically inquiring before she could barely understand what had happened.

“You must stay, Rita.” After hearing about her extraordinary experiences, Felix said with delight, “You will have plenty of opportunities to access confidential information, not just what is written on paper—you have a keen insight into people’s hearts and know what they want. I hope you will continue to use your talents to dig out their true thoughts from people from all walks of life. Also, in the upcoming reports involving wizards, remain impartial and neutral.”

“I can’t influence the decisions of those in power.” Rita Skeeter’s expression was a mixture of expectation and displeasure. She scratched her chin with her long nails and said slyly, “Unless—well, you allow me to use magic.”

“We will not do that,” Ms. Burns said sternly.

Rita Skeeter rolled her eyes and turned to look at Felix. Felix said carefully, "Using magic to change people's hearts is too risky. This isn't an isolated incident. In modern society, people have all sorts of connections, and a sudden change in attitude can arouse suspicion, especially right now. We'd rather go through the trouble; the situation isn't that urgent yet."

“What if the situation is urgent and there’s no time to lose?” Rita Skeeter pressed.

“You need to think about this: who holds the power?” Felix gave her a meaningful look. “Do your job well, and you’ll become a legend among journalists.”

Rita Skeeter fell into thought; she wasn't annoyed, she knew what she wanted.

"How do you plan to influence the attitude of the newspaper's senior management?" Skeeter asked shrewdly. "I need to know this so I can cooperate with you, right?"

"You've gained some fame from your gun control series, make good use of it, and also that Iphamonny wizard who petrified you."

I know you'd love to give him a piece of your mind, but he's actually created an excellent opportunity for you, so put your resentment aside for now… Well, our original plan was to send some basic information to the newspaper; understanding the situation is the first step to lowering their guard. But I suddenly had a better idea. I have some enthusiastic students around who would be happy to help.”

“Fine, I’ll see…” Rita Skeeter clicked her tongue in dissatisfaction and asked, “What about my safety?”

“The Ministry of Magic will send Aurors to provide protection,” Ms. Burns said.

...

“This is worse than I thought. I thought I would at most make tea, run errands, or write a bunch of nonsensical reports like Percy,” Ron couldn’t help but complain. “But can anyone tell me why we have to write papers in the Ministry of Magic?”

“Ron, what we’re doing is very important!” Hermione said seriously.

Harry didn't speak; he stared listlessly at the parchment in front of him, not a single word on it. He had witnessed the experiences of thousands of wizards in the Pensieve, but none of them could help—none of them had the skill of submitting articles to Muggle newspapers.

He, Ron, Sirius, and the others stayed overnight at the school last night, while Hermione was taken home by the professor. Unexpectedly, they met again in the Ministry of Magic's Great Hall this morning. Instead of having them do chores, the professor led them to an empty meeting room, took out quills and inkwells, and had them write letters. The letters were essentially about their lives as students at Hogwarts. Professor Hyp warned them not to reveal their names, addresses, or any confidential information.

Harry looked around. At first, there were only the three of them, but not long after Professor Hyp went out, he brought back a number of people, all of whom were his classmates at school.

These students can be roughly divided into two camps. The first group is related to the Order of the Phoenix, such as Neville and Ginny, and of course, him, Ron, and Hermione; the second group consists of the families of Ministry of Magic officials, such as Susan Burns, Ernie Macmillan, Cormac McLagan, Zacharys Smith (whom Harry and Ron both dislike), Draco Malfoy, and Cho Chang, who brought her friend. Harry can't remember the girl's name, but it seems to be something like Mary.

However—Harry turned his head, staring at Luna's fluffy pale blond hair, wondering why she was here. Perhaps it was because Luna's father, Mr. Lovegood, had a working relationship with Professor Hyp? He knew that the magazine "Who Decides the Ancient Runes" was printed alongside The Quibbler; he had once discovered an extra page of The Quibbler content while reading an article, and Ron had kept that issue.

Luna looked at Harry with her light-colored eyes.

“My dad and I stayed at Hogsmeade last night, and he wanted to thank Professor Hyp in person.”

“Oh,” Harry blinked, “I heard the room with the three brooms is full?” He actually wanted to ask why Professor Hyp was being thanked, but then he suddenly remembered that the professor had lent Luna the Resurrection Stone, and a realization dawned on him, so he changed the subject.

“Yes, so we stayed at the Pighead Bar,” Luna said happily. “Luckily, when we asked around, there was only one room left. Even luckier, when Dad got up to use the bathroom at night, he happened to see Felix through the window. They chatted for a while, and the professor mentioned that he needed a few students to help him, so I came here.”

“That’s lucky,” Harry said, knowing all too well how awful the Hog’s Head pub was. But he couldn’t help wondering who the professor was meeting at Hogsmeade.

"Is Aberforth alright?" Hermione interjected.

“He’s probably never seen so many guests in his life. I wonder if that’s a good thing for him,” Ron said, frowning.

"He's fine," Luna said earnestly, "but he's planning to sell the bar."

"What's going on?" Harry asked, looking surprised.

Luna slowly shook her head. "He didn't say. I think he has something more important on his mind."

Harry refocused his attention on the parchment. He glanced to both sides and saw that Hermione had already filled a third of the parchment, and she was clearly writing very seriously, biting her lip and constantly brainstorming. Ron had only written two lines. Harry stared at the freckles on Ron's nose for inspiration, only to find Ron looking surprised and then seemingly bursting with ideas, scribbling away.

Harry couldn't resist his curiosity and leaned closer.

The first sentence is, "I have a friend." Harry paused, then continued reading, "He was abused by his Muggle relatives from a young age—Muggles meaning non-magical people. He lacked food and clothing, and once his uncle locked him up, almost starving to death. Luckily, I sensed something was wrong and rescued him in my flying car. Don't be alarmed; although we had only just finished first year, it wasn't our first adventure..."

"Ron," Harry couldn't help but protest.

"What's wrong? I didn't mention your name," Ron said with a grin.

Harry sat back down, sulking to himself. He wondered if he should also write an essay titled "My Muggle Aunt, Uncle, Cousin and Family." If he and Ron were both chosen, they could testify to each other. But he didn't want to give Ron the benefit, so after thinking about it, he also started with "I Have a Friend."

I have a friend whose whole family are wizards. His parents had seven children, so they weren't exactly well-off (though they're much better off now). But that doesn't matter, because they are the kindest people I've ever met, especially compared to my relatives.

Harry paused, then couldn't resist subtly mentioning the Dursleys, feeling a bit stingy. 'I met this friend on the train. His two twin brothers helped me with my suitcase. He was the first person my age I met in the wizarding world—' At this point, Harry realized something was wrong. The first person his age he actually spoke to in the wizarding world was Draco Malfoy. So he crossed that out and changed it to, 'He was the first person my age I met on the train, and also the first friend I made in the wizarding world, but I quickly made a second and a third friend!'

There's an elective course at school called Muggle Studies. The textbook is incredibly outdated and completely behind the times, but another friend of mine (who also comes from a Muggle family and therefore knows a lot about this stuff) says it's fascinating to look at these things from a wizard's perspective. I've read her paper:

Why do Muggles need electricity? My first friend also looked into it, and he asked a lot of questions, even though he didn't take the course. I think that's a shame…

Around noon, Felix came over and read through all the dozen or so letters.

“McLagan, there’s no need to mention your father’s connections at the Ministry of Magic repeatedly in your letter;”

"Smith, the sense of superiority in your writing is too strong. I can't guarantee that its readers won't want to punch you."

"Luna, your perspective is unique and detailed, but you mentioned several unverified magical creatures. Oh well, that suits your style perfectly."

"Hmm, Granger—yours isn't quite right. It's too rigorous, analyzing the similarities and differences between Muggles and wizards from both perspectives. It sounds like it came from an expert in this field. What I need is something written by a sixteen or seventeen-year-old. But you can submit it to the Daily Prophet."

“Miss Burns, your perspective as the ‘Minister of Magic’ is very interesting. You might as well write more about it, and you can decide the appropriate level of detail yourself.”

"Weasley, you have confessed to your illegal and disorderly conduct, and those psychological descriptions in particular were quite brilliant; it's clear you were the mastermind."

—No need to change it, it's quite interesting, but I suggest you cross out the part about suspecting me of being the heir to the secret room.

“Potter, I’m not sure—well, how did you know Mr. Weasley snores? Oh, Ron told you, okay? So Arthur’s garage has all sorts of good stuff—did Molly know?”

Felix supervised their revisions, and finally crafted a very targeted opening for them. He then selected a few letters and handed them to an Auror.

"Send it to the Sun newspaper's office."

.

In the afternoon, the press conference was held as scheduled in the Ministry of Magic's conference room, with countless wizarding families glued to their magical radios. Felix's calm and confident voice resonated throughout every household:

"...We were forced into an unprecedented historical tide, and everyone was caught up in it. I hope that when we look back on this history years from now, each of us can point to the world behind us and proudly tell future generations that it was the era we created."

Meanwhile, the front desk of The Sun newspaper also received several letters from enthusiastic young wizards.

Chapter 688 Fireplace (Seeking double monthly votes!)

Rita Skeeter walked into the meeting room, half nervous and half excited. She looked around and saw several important figures and well-known writers from the newspaper, a fat manager, a serious old woman who had high hopes for her, her rival Melissa, and two or three writers who excelled in their respective fields. She knew that one of them was very good at writing obituaries.

Their faces were grave, as if something big had happened.

“Rita, you’ve arrived,” the stern woman said kindly, several letters laid out before her, one of which had already been opened. “How was your rest? No lasting effects, were there? After all, it was those strange magic spells, wasn’t it?”

“Much better,” Skeeter mumbled. “I slept and feel mostly fine. Oh, by the way,” she pulled two manuscripts from her crocodile bag, “these are what I wrote.”

The woman took it with considerable surprise.

“This is my recounting of yesterday’s events. Because I was unsure of the newspaper’s stance, I chose to describe it from two different angles,” Skeeter said calmly.

“I’m satisfied.” The serious woman nodded, glanced at the manuscript casually without looking at it closely, and put it down. She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “But now things have changed. We received this.” She tapped the envelope on the table with one of her ringed hands. “And it happens to be related to you.”

"What does this have to do with me?" Skeeter repeated doubtfully.

The serious woman picked up the opened letter and poured out a stack of folded letters and a small card. She pushed the card towards Rita Skeeter.

“Read it.”

Rita Skeeter used her long pinky fingernail to scrape up the card and carefully examined the handwriting. She immediately noticed the messy, informal style of the handwriting, and recalling what Hyp had said the night before, guessed it might have been written by a student. She cleared her throat:

"The wizarding world has been exposed. The adults are busy discussing countermeasures, and Mother is worried; she doesn't want conflict. A few friends and I decided to write to you—hoping you can realize that, apart from magic, our emotions are the same."

P.S.: A Muggle-born friend of mine recognized the female reporter in the news; she's probably the first person to interview a wizard, right? So we sent it to you. That's all for now.

Rita Skeeter looked up and found the reporters staring at her with envy. She instantly realized that her title as the first journalist to interview a wizard had come into play. The stern woman said nothing and pushed the opened letter towards her again.

Skeeter unfolded the letter and began to read it aloud. "I have a friend..." She only read half of it before she recognized the sender. The famous Harry Potter was known to everyone in the wizarding world. With the reappearance of the Dark Lord Voldemort, his two friends also became somewhat famous. They had been honored with the Order of Merlin for their unwavering loyalty in the face of the Dark Lord.

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

"Is it over?" the chubby manager said, still savoring the moment. "It was quite interesting, though some parts didn't quite make sense." The other reporters nodded in agreement.

“It’s over,” Skeeter said dryly. She couldn’t see anything interesting about it. If she had known earlier, she would have definitely written a series of controversial articles, whether they were praise or criticism was still debatable.

A reporter was about to express his opinion, but the stern woman stopped him.

"Read the entire letter first, then we'll discuss it."

Rita Skeeter looked around, grabbed the second letter, tore it open, and read it aloud in front of everyone, “I have a friend…” Well, she thought, she had just been thinking about the Savior, and now the Savior’s letter had appeared. If it wasn’t arranged by Hyp, she would have eaten the parchment.

Then came the third—and final—letter. Rita Skeeter read it for a while, but couldn't guess who wrote it.