A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

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 archmages.'

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 air 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, capable of capturing images down to the centimeter level, were pointing their lenses at the scene.

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 the ground radar?"

"Apart from the marked helicopters, fighter jets, and warships, no moving targets were found."

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 manual that was issued."

"Say!"

"Magic disturbance".

The commander looked utterly bewildered. "Someone on the satellite?" a monitoring officer with his back to the general muttered quietly. "That person'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 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 finding it unbelievable, "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 radar power to maximum, and tell 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 dodged a few times as a token gesture, followed by various types of cannons, air-to-air missiles, and laser-guided bombs. The sky turned into a fireworks display, flashing wildly amidst deafening thunder. As another fireball with a radius exceeding 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 trying to turn around, seemingly not satisfied and wanting to try again.

“At this altitude, we should be able to see very clearly, right?” Felix muttered to himself. 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 as soon as possible." With preparation, 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, veering and plummeting downwards.

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.

"It was inevitable that things would develop to this point. If it hadn't been the United States, it would have been some other country. The more I considered things, the more meticulous my plans were, even taking into account chaotic places like Africa to avoid war as much as possible... the more I found 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 either rebel, compromise, or hide even deeper, and some places would be engulfed in war... Chaos would inevitably last for several years or even more than a decade, but this process would also allow 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 believes this place could 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 forth, merging with the surrounding biting wind, causing clothes to flutter wildly. This magic was like dye dropped into a pool, spreading out in 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 Akinbad and Ms. Burns were probably ringing off the hook by now.

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 was 'lined up'. He deliberately avoided the wizarding families hidden in the shadows; they were intact and stood out starkly among the jumbled 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.

Chapter 724 Floating

Felix took a silver pocket watch out of his coat pocket, popped open the cover, and glanced at the time.

“Horace, get your men to arrange the evacuation as soon as possible. To be honest, I’m not sure if a big guy will appear above our heads in a minute. It’s hard to figure out what those people are thinking… Seriously, I don’t like politics.” He paused. “If there’s real danger, I can probably give a warning a minute in advance.”

Horace Greenstinch nodded knowingly; a minute was enough to get a lot done.

A briefcase appeared out of thin air, and Felix handed it to Greenstinch. The latter looked surprised and tentatively asked, "I heard... Mr. Scamander had a very large briefcase when he was young?"

"Ah, the principle is the same. I had Newt verify it."

Horace Greenstinch's face immediately showed a look of recollection. Ever since Serafina Picqueli, every president of the Magical Congress of the United States had been told at the beginning of his term to be wary of magizoologists who traveled around with their suitcases.

With mixed feelings, he walked out of the harbor and fired a signal with his wand. The Aurors and staff of the Magical Congress of the United States arrived first, their faces still showing disbelief, as if they hadn't fully woken up. They looked around in astonishment as a young Auror stretched out his hand, his fingers passing through lines of varying depths without any obstruction. Where there had been an old-fashioned red fire hydrant, with a rat perched on it, was now.

“I’ve only ever seen similar scenes in comic books,” the Auror said absentmindedly.

Another wizard, dressed in harem pants, cautiously glanced in Felix's direction and whispered with a look of awe, "What do you think the world looks like through Mr. Hyp's eyes?"

A moment of silence.

"Maybe it's a book?" the young Auror chattered on. "Maybe even a comic book. Ugh—it's terrifying, I can't imagine how he did it."

"Mr. Hyp should be able to beat Grindelwald, right?"

“I think it’s feasible! At least Grindelwald couldn’t do something like that,” the young Auror said excitedly, his eyes looking around with fervent admiration.

“But both of them are recognized as great mages,” the other said hesitantly.

"There will always be a difference between strong and weak..."

At that moment, Horace Greenstitch strode over carrying a box. He glanced at the speaker and said, "Archmage are not defined by strength. They are at least outstanding figures who far surpass their contemporaries in some aspect. Alright, let's get to work."

Wizards began to descend from the sky. These people brought their families and carried large and small bags of luggage. Horace Greenstinch's mood grew as heavy as that of the Aurors present, but he couldn't utter any words to persuade them to stay—most of them had children with them.

After today, the situation for American wizards may not worsen further, but there are no signs of improvement either. The bloody scars won't heal quickly, and the barrier between them is as vast as a chasm; they will continue to hide their identities for a long time to come.

“Chairman Greenstinch, all members of the Reformation Society support your decision,” Yuria said softly but firmly. “We are the chosen generation.”

Horace Greenstinch opened the box, and several Aurors leaned over to look down. A long staircase stretched down, where wizards from all over the country lined up silently. They would live in new accommodations arranged by the Federation and the Pan-Magical Alliance, with the first choice being countries that had already signed contracts with wizards.

Horace Greenstinch repeatedly reminded the wizarding families passing by, "There's plenty of food and water inside, and different scenery to see... It's like taking a train ride, nothing to worry about." As dawn broke, the long queue thinned out, until only staff remained. Throughout this time, Felix stood at a distance, gazing at the abstract city. The seawater was crystal clear, seaweed and algae floating on the waves, and schools of fish, drawn with simple lines, seemed to soar through the sky, lifelike—except for being frozen by magic.

Finally, Horace Greenstinch came over and handed the box to Felix.

“There are nearly a thousand wizarding families inside,” he said solemnly.

“They won’t be hurt at all,” Felix assured them. “They’ll have a chance to come back later.” He added reassuringly.

“I know,” Horace Greenstinch murmured. Wizards’ identities are not in the hands of the Muggle government, but that doesn’t mean they will move around at will. If given a choice, they would prefer to stay in familiar surroundings unless absolutely necessary—the large-scale migration of wizards in the British wizarding world occurred when Voldemort was at his most unbridled.

After handing over the box, Horace Greenstinch breathed a sigh of relief, as if the pressure he had been under for so long had suddenly vanished. For him, the next task was to hide the remaining wizards as much as possible; he even had the leisure to joke around.

"I thought you were going to build a giant flying carpet, but I didn't expect you to use a suitcase."

“More or less,” Felix said seriously. “I told reporters before that I would let them leave openly and honestly, and now we’ve only done half of it.”

"What's the other half?" Horace Greenstinch asked curiously, glancing suddenly behind Felix as if something else was hidden there, perhaps—as he put it—a flying carpet that could hold thousands of people.

……

Beyond the long coastline, Felix, Greenstinch, Julia, and a few curious Aurors who had followed stood in the air, marveling to themselves. Beneath their feet was a field half the size of a Quidditch pitch, and—it really did seem to be a pitch—they looked up, quite certain that they could see ringed sticks in the thin air fifty feet above them, somewhat like the small plastic sticks children use to blow soap bubbles.

“Hogwarts,” Julia whispered. The others suddenly realized that this might be two sides of the same coin as the magic that enveloped New York Harbor; the former turned real objects into blurry, ethereal forms, while this was the opposite.

Horace Greenstinch was still reeling from the shock.

An island, a floating island—putting aside the immense magical power required (which, after the previous events, he figured might not be much for Hyp), simply considering how to maintain the magical effect for a long time was an insurmountable problem. In his imagination, if the entire Magical Congress of the United States worked day and night, casting thousands upon thousands of levitation charms, it might indeed be possible to raise an artificial island several kilometers in diameter, but such a massive spectacle could only last for a week or two at most, which seemed rather impractical to him…

Perhaps this is Haipu's purpose?

Horace Greenstinch, lost in thought, traversed an area of ​​sea before the magic wore off, demonstrating the wizard's power—a truly significant act. Felix's body blurred, and he appeared in the distance. His eyes gleamed with silver light, dotted with magical symbols, and his pupils reflected the deep, dark image of a book of runes—

He opened his mouth and uttered the incantation with difficulty.

In an instant, the gradually brightening light behind him seemed to be swallowed up, tearing open a large, dark green hole, as if someone had torn away a bright blue background during a movie shoot, revealing a dirty curtain behind it. Felix then exuded an aura of mystery. Lightning-like streaks flashed across the background behind him, and then both the dark green background and the lightning streaks began to dent and distort, their shape becoming increasingly clear—it was a giant serpent, dark green being the color of its body, and lightning the folds of its scales—after spending half a month by the Black Lake, Felix's new guardian spirit was revealed to the world for the first time. Its size reached an astonishing several thousand feet, and this was not its limit.

Felix found himself never as powerful, as close to the essence of magic, and as close to having his wishes fulfilled as he had ever been at this moment.

He was still an archmage, and he didn't believe his understanding of magic surpassed Dumbledore's, but every cell in his body was sending him a message—even if all the archmages of history were combined, they couldn't defeat him now. This was because he had gathered most of the magic power accumulated from the twelve most prestigious magic schools in the world, and this magic power had just been contained within the Book of Runes and released through a new Patronus.

Guardian deity...

Felix felt that calling it a guardian deity was a bit unfair. This magic had been completely transformed under his constant improvements. If one studied it carefully, they would be absolutely astonished by the knowledge it contained: Rowena Ravenclaw's memory nodes, memory magic, the branch of memory magic called emotion magic, ancient magic, and the technique he had recently mastered for constructing stable magical channels...