A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

“That’s the common perception,” Mr. Weasley said seriously. “The wizarding life isn’t primitive; it’s just two different ways of living. We do use owls to mail letters and packages, but we also communicate in other ways, such as the Floo Network, Apparition, Knight Bus, and so on. And in recent years, something similar to a mobile phone has appeared, called the Mirror of Sound.”

Thanks to the Hogwarts students' continued dedication to writing to the Muggle newspapers, the two sides tacitly understood each other; in addition, government spokespeople would occasionally release some information about wizards, which allowed the audience to roughly understand Mr. Weasley's words. Many people were impressed by the Knight Bus that traveled all over the country and automatically avoided all obstacles wherever it went, and hoped to experience it for themselves. However, some people were skeptical and believed that a vehicle that could leap dozens of kilometers like a toad simply did not exist.

“A microphone,” the host repeated in astonishment, “you mean this thing functions similarly to a mobile phone?”

Mr. Weasley nodded.

"It was invented by my two sons, Fred and George, and it is indeed very convenient to use."

“Uh, your two sons? Their names are—” The host frowned, “Fred and—”

“George,” Mr. Weasley said patiently, “they are twins.”

The host looked at him in disbelief and asked a question that piqued the curiosity of everyone present, "How old are they?"

“They just turned nineteen three months ago,” Mr. Weasley said proudly, puffing out his chest. “They are my fourth and fifth sons.”

“Incredible,” the host said to the audience. “It seems that the principles of magic and technology are completely different, and it’s hard to imagine such a thing happening in reality. I wonder if everyone is looking forward to seeing the real thing… Let’s listen to the next audience member’s question: Mrs. Beverly asks, why does magic seem to be all-powerful, but wizards have the same troubles as ordinary people?”

Mr. Weasley said seriously:

“Magic is not omnipotent. We also need a long period of learning to master specific spells. From what I have observed and understand so far, the lives of wizards and Muggles are quite similar—except for magic. We all need to study and work, have families and friends, and worry about money and various trivial matters in life. There is no essential difference.” He emphasized again at the end, “except for magic.”

"...Our audience has another question, which is about the secrecy law that you have mentioned repeatedly. What is its status? Is it similar to a country's constitution? If so, wouldn't that mean that wizards all over the world share the same constitution?"

“I don’t know how the Constitution defines it, but I understand the secrecy law. It’s less about restricting wizards and more about restricting magic from appearing in the public eye. We have a special department, the Office for Prohibiting the Abuse of Magic…”

When the host turned his attention to Hermione, almost an hour had passed, and Hermione's expression was somewhat stiff.

"Miss Granger, I've read your name in the newspaper. Are you still a student?"

“Yes, I still have one year left to graduate,” Hermione said somewhat reservedly.

"Oh, I think you must be exceptionally talented to have been chosen for this interview."

“I, uh,” Hermione shook her head, “I’m not the best. I think it might have something to do with my expertise in the history of magic—that is, wizarding history—and my identity—”

"identity?"

"My parents are both Muggles, which means they are ordinary people."

"Wow, so you didn't know magic existed before you enrolled? How did you come to accept that magic was real? I mean, most people would probably think they'd been scammed?"

Hermione smiled, as if she had thought of something interesting.

“I did think about it, but some strange things happened when I was a child, which I remember very clearly, so I sent a letter to the school. It turned out that it was unnecessary, as the professors at the school would visit young wizards from non-wizard families.”

"Did that professor convince your parents?"

“You convinced me,” Hermione corrected.

"How exactly was it done?" The host glanced at the audience's reaction and realized that he had once again caught a topic that the public was interested in.

Hermione looked at him hesitantly, and the host encouraged her, "It's okay, our audience is very curious—no one can predict whether their child will become one."

Hermione reached out, and the cup on the table instantly transformed into a beaver the size of her palm. She didn't even use a wand. Perhaps no one in the world knew more about the anatomy of this creature than she did; even wizards wouldn't spend half an hour every week transforming into a beaver.

Everyone stared intently at the agile creature on the table, trying to determine if it was an illusion. The host extended a hand, but the beaver nimbly dodged it. It had transformed back into a cup.

The host picked up the cup and examined it closely, imagining it could run and move. The audience followed his arm movements, their gazes shifting.

"This should be one of the subjects, called change, change—"

"Transfiguration".

"That's right, besides Transfiguration, what other subjects are there?"

"Charms, potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbalism, History of Magic, Ancient Runes, Magical Creatures Protection..."

"The magic that happened in front of the parliament building that day belonged to—"

"A beginner-level ancient rune spell."

……

The topics became more specific, and the host, adept at navigating social situations, kept asking various questions, gradually revealing the differences between the three. Slughorn loved to talk at length about social relationships, and the audience could weave a vast web in their minds based on his words, like a naturalist; however, the old man also had a tendency to boast.

Mr. Weasley was very familiar with the Ministry of Magic, but he preferred to talk about topics that were less dangerous, such as family and friends; the host understood his concerns and intentionally steered the conversation in that direction, and the two had a very pleasant conversation.

Hermione Granger, a student, surprised the host the most. When talking about wizarding history, she spoke for ten minutes straight, and seemed to have anticipated that few of the people in the audience might not be good at historical dates, so she thoughtfully supplemented her speech with contemporary British history after each section.

For example, Henry VII actually recruited real wizards as court sorcerers. Of course, both sides maintained a tacit understanding regarding the witch hunts, and neither discussed it openly. The host privately felt that as more information about wizards is revealed, anyone with a modicum of sense will begin to have doubts about that period of history.

How many wizards were actually burned to death in history? The exact number might be enough to make many people despair, which may explain why religious groups in China have remained silent about this.

"Miss Granger, what do you think about wizards being exposed to the world? As someone who understands both sides, which side do you personally lean towards?"

"I agree that the issue should be resolved through negotiation, and both sides should coexist peacefully," Hermione said, downplaying the seriousness of the matter.

"But the negotiations have reached a stalemate. The wizard is unwilling to abide by modern laws. You should be able to understand the risks involved, right?" the host asked. He wasn't deliberately trying to make things difficult, but rather the young girl opposite him was showing a keen political sense.

“Wizards have their own laws, and they’ve worked well before,” Hermione emphasized. “Now that there are no new laws, it’s necessary to continue the old ones. And new laws shouldn’t be made from one side’s perspective; they should be convincing and accepted by both sides—a professor who taught me in my third year said—well, the purpose of laws is to use limited words to express our expectations of this society.”

Hermione carefully chose her words:

"In my view, the law cannot fully calculate human behavior and will always face new challenges, such as the situation we are facing now. These problems are difficult to solve in the short term, but the relationship between the two must not stagnate. The best way is to stop and think carefully about what we really want: conflict or peace? If we can't figure it out, even if we draft a thousand or ten thousand laws, it will be useless."

"This is a clash of two ideas."

Hermione finished speaking fluently and frankly, expressing her truest thoughts, which she had finally managed to say all at once. The audience fell silent. She instinctively glanced at their reactions, and suddenly her eyes widened, her heart nearly leaping out of her throat—a familiar face sat in the crowd.

It was Professor Hep! He was wearing a bright blue suit, his crisp striped trousers crossed, and he was clapping with a broad smile, as if to say, "Well done."

She glanced around discreetly, but no one noticed anything amiss. Instead, they seemed to be caught up in the applause and joined in. The host asked another question, but she paid no attention.

“Miss Granger? Miss Granger?” the host called to her.

Hermione quickly looked away and apologized softly, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you?"

A soft chuckle came from the audience.

"Oh, my question is, you seem very confident about the future?"

Hermione seemed a little embarrassed by her earlier panic, but she was surprisingly calm. She subconsciously smoothed her hair and, after a few seconds, answered seriously:

"...Yes, I believe it's inevitable. There have been periods in history when ordinary people and wizards lived together, so we are not making history, but rather taking a segment from many years and inheriting it. The question is whether we choose suffering or a more promising path, even though both are fraught with thorns. My companions and I are ready..."

Felix was lost in thought. How many people realize that the elderly tend to reminisce about the past, while the young dream of the future, because the young themselves represent the future? Magic is a power that reaches the soul; in this turbulent era, how many wizards will truly rise to prominence?

He seemed to see the curtain slowly rising, a drama that wasn't just for one person.

Chapter 704 Halftime

As expected, the television interview sparked heated discussion the next day.

A series of fresh reports sprang from the machine like freshly toasted bread slices, eagerly awaiting to be buttered and jammed and stuffed into people's bellies. Fred and George's private radio station came in handy again, picking out interesting news items after their morning clippings to broadcast to "those who still retain a childlike heart."

After reading the news article "Utopian Society: Progress or Regression?", Fred asked his listeners for help: "Does anyone know if 'utopia' is actually an insult? I still don't understand after reading the whole thing. This guy who calls himself an anthropologist thinks that wizards are a group of freaks practicing some large-scale social experiment that conforms to their ideals. It gives me the illusion of working for free. Listen to this: 'When material wealth is extremely abundant and individual survival capabilities reach their peak, the social structure of humankind will inevitably shift from strict to loose. At that time, the concept of the nation-state will be weakened, and individuals will come together because of shared ideals...'"

Naturally, no one responded to him. After George finished reading an exclusive advertisement for Weasley's Magic Tricks Studio, Lee Jordan introduced the audience to the world outside of Britain, which he had learned from relatives abroad.

“The situation is not optimistic,” he said on his latest radio program. “My cousin, who is several generations removed from me, scoffs at my hairstyle. His whole family looks down on people, which gives me a bad feeling. People like them would never seek refuge with poor relatives or choose to live under someone else’s roof unless they are absolutely desperate. And I happen to have plenty of information to prove that the number of people fleeing—or, to put it more politely, temporary residents—is increasing recently.”

"Here I would also like to remind you young listeners that if there are strangers in your home, but your parents insist that you are related to them by blood, you must persuade them to register with the Ministry of Magic and abide by the local laws; otherwise, you will be subject to a hefty fine and an unscheduled Azkaban experience—given that it is already full of Death Eaters, now is not a good time to show your personality and courage."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione's voices would occasionally appear on the radio, which Ron found amusing. He seemed to enjoy broadcasting his voice so much that he even forgot the real purpose of returning to the Burrow.

“A wedding, Ronald Weasley, your older brother’s wedding!” Mrs. Weasley glared at him menacingly. “I didn’t call you back so you could just laze around.”

“Mom, I’m doing something important—they have that right,” Ron protested loudly.

“Yes, but you also have the right to do housework,” Mrs. Weasley said with a hint of sarcasm. “Now you’re cleaning up the goblins in the garden. They’re getting bolder and bolder. One day they’ll climb onto the dining table and ask me to change the magic radio station.”

“This proves a point,” Ron said in a low voice, “You get tired of listening to the same song all the time.”

So Harry and Ron went to the garden and bent down to search for goblins in the grass. These creatures looked like mutated potatoes and had the same intelligence as when they were still planted in the ground, so it was just a physical task. Hermione was invited to help Ginny choose colors for the gifts, ribbons and flowers. Of course, the flowers hadn't returned yet, so Mrs. Weasley gave the task to Fred and George.

"You went back to the Dursleys' last night?" Ron asked in surprise from the garden. "Tell me more!"

“Go get the things,” Harry said with mixed feelings. He found it hard to describe the scene when he met the Dursleys. It was his first time back since the wizarding world was exposed. He had only sent a letter before, but the Dursleys were clearly unhappy about it.

This discontent festered over time and finally erupted the moment he appeared. Uncle Vernon roared like a bloated spring, loudly questioning the Ministry of Magic's purpose in casting spells in his house and saying that he hadn't slept well for a month. When Harry asked him why he hadn't asked when the Ministry of Magic staff were still around, Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to rush over and hit him.

“This is to protect you. With this protection, the neighbors will still remember that you have a child who lives in a boarding school—” Harry paused, then said expressionlessly, “nephew, but they will subconsciously ignore my face and my name. That’s why. Basically, all students from Muggle families are protected in this way.”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged a glance. This answer clearly resolved a long-standing question in their minds: why had Harry attended the Queen's afternoon tea without any neighbors coming over to bother him? They sincerely prayed that their neighbors were dizzy with excitement—though the hope was slim, because their neighbors, like Aunt Petunia, had a natural keen sense for trendsetting topics and were willing to spend a great deal of time investigating the details.

Or perhaps the neighbors' attention was completely drawn to the wealthy wizard professor in charge? They were secretly relieved for a while because of this.

"So... you've finally decided to come back? How long are you going to stay this time?" Uncle Fern asked angrily.

“I’m not back to stay,” Harry said. “I’m here to pack.” Aunt Petunia dropped her frying pan, the hard metal denting her favorite wooden floor. Dudley, on summer vacation, frowned, seemingly trying to figure out the complicated reason why Harry had to pack his bags as soon as he got back.

Harry could almost hear Dudley's rusty brain struggling to function. Harry tried to avoid looking at him. If there was any new or interesting change in the family over the past few years, it was that Dudley seemed to have developed a tiny bit of interest in magic.

Uncle Vernon suddenly jumped up, startling everyone. He frowned and paced back and forth in the living room, occasionally scrutinizing Harry with a sharp and deep gaze, making one wonder if he had learned Legilimency.

"Is there anything else?" Harry asked impatiently as their eyes met again, making a move to leave.

“Don’t leave yet, I still have something to ask!” Uncle Vernon said. Harry stopped and looked at him, but Uncle Vernon hesitated again, his expression constantly changing, which Harry found quite amusing. Finally, before he could choke on his own words, he spoke: “Is there going to be a war?”

“Finnon—” Aunt Penny shrieked.

“Don’t interrupt, Penny,” Vernon yelled. His face turned a deep purplish-red.

Harry stared at him, unable to comprehend Uncle Vernon's thought process, even after living together for eleven years and spending several summers together.

Why would you think that?

“Otherwise, why did you suddenly decide to move?” Uncle Fernon said, his small eyes gleaming with cunning. “You must have known something beforehand, didn’t you? The negotiations didn’t go well, that’s right—it’s all in the newspapers, I should have known.” He clenched his fist, his expression pained.

"Kid, we're your relatives, you can't run away alone!"

“You’re wrong, that’s not the reason,” Harry said curtly.

"Why is that!?"

“I’m an adult now,” Harry said, feeling a sense of relief. “I’m an adult now,” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, “so I’m moving out of here. You won’t have to worry about me showing up at your house and causing gossip anymore. You’ll just have to put up with an owl card occasionally, like on Christmas days…”

An eerie silence fell over the room.

“Well,” Uncle Vernon muttered after a moment, “since that’s the reason—”

“Wait, you’re not an adult yet,” Aunt Penny said in a shrewd tone honed from haggling in a store. “You’re still a few days short.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Harry said.