Harry Potter and the Old Ones

It's almost midnight now, and the Prime Minister of Great Britain is sitting alone in his office, reading a note that suddenly appeared in his hand tonight, but his mind is blank, and he has no idea what the sentence is. What's the meaning--

Or maybe he had some unrealistic guesses in his heart, but he wasn't quite sure whether his guesses were correct.

He seemed to be waiting for a call from the president of a distant country.

On the one hand, he wondered if the unlucky guy would even call, and on the other hand, he suppressed many unpleasant memories of this long and tiring week, so there was not much room for other things in his mind.

The more he wanted to concentrate on deciphering the words on the note in front of him, the more clearly he saw the gloating face of one of his political enemies.

The political enemy appeared in the news that day, not only listing all the horrific accidents that happened in the past week, but also analyzing every one of them as a result of the government's fault.

The Prime Minister's blood pressure rises and his pulse quickens at the thought of these accusations, because they are unfair and untrue. How could his government possibly prevent that bridge from falling?

It is really unbearable that some people have suggested that the government is not investing enough in bridge construction. The bridge was less than ten years old, and the best experts could not explain how it suddenly and neatly snapped in two, sending a dozen cars into the deep water below.

In addition, it was suggested that the lack of police force was responsible for the two well-publicized and vicious murders, and that the government should have foreseen the bizarre hurricane in the West that caused huge damage to people's lives and properties.

Also, is it his fault that one of his assistant ministers, Herbert Cholet, has been acting weird this week, saying he wants to spend more time with his family?

"The whole country is in panic." The opposition finally concluded, barely concealing the smug smile on his face.

Unfortunately, this is indeed the case. The Prime Minister felt it himself.

People do appear to be more anxious than usual, and even the weather is unsatisfactory. It was still mid-July, and it was already filled with cold fog... This is very wrong, very abnormal...

The Prime Minister shivered slightly, stood up and walked to the window, looking at the thin mist that was clinging to the window glass outside. As he stood with his back to the room, he heard a soft cough from behind him.

He froze, his own terrified face in the dark windowpane in front of him.

He was familiar with the cough, he had heard it before.

The Prime Minister slowly turned around and faced the empty room.

"Hello?" he said, trying to sound brave.

At that moment, he knew it was impossible, but he still vaguely hoped that no one would agree to him.

However, a voice answered immediately, the voice was clear and decisive, as if reading a prepared speech.

The Prime Minister knew when he heard the first cough that it came from the little frog-like man in the long silver wig, who was the figure in a dirty little oil painting in the far corner of the room.

"To the Muggle Prime Minister, request an urgent meeting, please reply immediately, you are reliable, Cornelius Fudge." The man in the painting looked at the Prime Minister questioningly.

"Well," the Prime Minister said, "listen...this time is not right for me...I'm waiting for a call...a President's—"

"That can be rearranged," said the portrait without hesitation. The Prime Minister's heart sank. That's what he worries about.

"But I do want to talk to him—"

"We will make the president forget about the call. He will call again tomorrow night." The little man said firmly, "Please answer Mr. Fudge immediately."

"I... oh... well," the Prime Minister said helplessly, "Okay, I'll see Fudge."

He hurried to the desk, straightening his tie. He had just sat down, adjusting his face to the ease and composure he wished, when a bright green flame suddenly burst out from the empty grate under the marble fireplace.

The Prime Minister tried his best to hide his surprise and panic, and watched helplessly as a big fat man appeared in the middle of the flames, spinning like a spinning top.

A few seconds later, the big fat man stepped over the grate, holding a yellow-green bowler hat in his hand, stood on a fine antique carpet, and brushed the ashes from the sleeves of his slender cloak.

"Heh... Prime Minister..." Cornelius Fudge strode over with a smile and stretched out a hand, "Nice to meet you again."

The Prime Minister didn't want to answer this polite remark from the bottom of his heart, so he didn't say anything.

He didn't want to see Fudge at all, and Fudge's previous appearances, aside from being particularly alarming, usually meant hearing some particularly bad news.

"Can I do something for you?" the Prime Minister asked, shaking Fudge's hand hastily, motioning him to sit on the hardest chair in front of the table.

"I really don't know where to start." Although Cornelius Fudge's face was ruddy, he had a frowning expression on his face.

"Then please make a long story short." The Muggle Prime Minister, or Jim Huck, said impatiently but had to be patient.

Jim Huck will never forget the scene where he tried his best to win the cannibalistic party fight, and after successfully staying at No. 10 Downing Street, he was suddenly startled by this chunky wizard who jumped out of the stove. .

"Okay!" Cornelius Fudge replied angrily, "Then I'll make a long story short, first of all—"

"A Dark Lord has risen in our magical world. He is planning to invade the Muggle world, and he can't do anything about our lack of firepower, so I'm here to remind you to pay attention to your safety and ask for your own blessings." Kangnai Lifuji said quickly.

"Dark Lord? Dark Lord!" Jim Huck's face instantly turned pale, "The legendary Dark Lord who can't even be named?"

The day after meeting Cornelius Fudge, a book that was thicker than the Encyclopedia Britannica suddenly appeared on Jim Harker's desk.

There is also a note attached -

"Here's everything you need to know about the wizarding world - Cornelius Fudge"

Jim Huck flipped a few times when he was bored.

Most of them are fairy tales and fantasy novels to him~www.NovelMTL.com~ but only one of them is about a dark wizard named "Voldemort", which looks like a horror story, or the mental journey of a psychopath .

"I'm afraid so." Cornelius Fudge said with shame, "he's on the rise again, and he's stronger than the last time he's been in power, with a stronger army... I mean... He's doing terror all over the UK and there's nothing we can do about it..."

Jim Huck didn't know what to say for a moment when he heard this, but he had a deep-rooted habit of showing he knew everything no matter what he was talking about, so he searched his memory for him before watching it. The story of the Dark Lord.

"That is to say..." Jim Huck suddenly changed his attitude and said sternly, "He's going to start slaughtering non-magic people? And you can't do anything? This is different from what you promised me, Minister Fudge."

"Yes, I'm really sorry, Mr. Prime Minister." Cornelius Fudge nodded humbly and bowed apologetically, "This is our fault, so I'm afraid I have to ask you for help."

"Help?" Jim Huck asked rhetorically, pretending to be angry, "What help?"

"We ask you to secretly send a group of modern troops to the Ministry of Magic for a long time." Cornelius Fudge made Tierra's request.

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