As the imperceptible black veil, visible only to wizards, floated ominously, Auston Greengrass found himself playing in Diagon Alley with his little sister, Astoria Greengrass.
“Brother, what’s been keeping you so busy lately? Why don’t you spend time with your family?” inquired Astoria as she peered into a shop window. However, Auston remained unresponsive.
Astoria had to turn and look directly at Auston, whispering, “Big brother?”
At that moment, Astoria noticed Auston’s vacant gaze fixed on the distant black thread of yarn.
“Astoria, what are you asking me about? Here’s your answer! For the glory of the Greengrass! For the greater good!” Auston suddenly exclaimed.
Astoria, taken aback, gazed at her brother with astonishment.
To her surprise, Auston was trembling and blushing, not out of fear but as if overwhelmed by an indescribable excitement.
Not far away, Lucius, accompanied by his wife Narcissa and their son Draco, observed the approaching black veil from a distance.
“Father, what is that? I’ve never seen anything like it before. It looks so impressive!” Draco exclaimed, his eyes filled with excitement as he scanned the surroundings.
Lucius, however, had a pallor about him that contrasted with his usual fair complexion.
His voice trembled as he spoke, “It’s a legend manifesting itself in the world, reigniting old conflicts.”
Narcissa, standing beside Lucius, wore a similarly horrified expression.
She urgently grasped Draco’s arm and pleaded with her husband, “Let’s go home—quick! Better yet, let’s leave England, now!”
In the bustling streets of London, a street magician had just completed a magic trick.
He held his magic hat with one hand, allowing the audience to deposit banknotes into it.
As the audience tossed their banknotes into the hat, the magician respectfully bowed and then straightened.
However, moments later, he appeared frozen in place, leaving the crowd bewildered.
Suddenly, the magician burst into laughter, and those closest to him noticed a glistening tear at the corner of his eye, sparkling in the sunlight.
“Everyone, I present to you the final magic trick of the day! Please watch closely!” he announced.
With that, the magician tossed a red cloth into the air. The cloth descended slowly, seemingly intent on enveloping him completely.
Yet, when it finally landed on the ground, the magician had vanished.
“Mom! Mom! Did you see that? It’s real magic!” exclaimed an adorable girl dressed in a Lolita outfit, tugging at her mother’s hand.
The girl’s mother lovingly embraced her and replied, “It’s called magic, sweetheart.”
The little girl insisted, “No, Mom! This is real magic!”
“Alright, you’re absolutely right. It’s magic!” her mother conceded, gently caressing the girl’s long blond hair.
Few in the audience noticed, however, that beneath the magician’s worn clothes, a tattoo loomed on his chest—a triangular eye with a vertical line running through it.
Meanwhile, a ragged old man with a scruffy beard and a bottle of wine in hand sat huddled in a corner of a London street.
His gaze was unfocused, and from time to time, passersby would drop coins beside him.
The old man remained unresponsive, lost in his thoughts.
Yet, he felt as though something was slowly blocking his mind, furrowing his brow as he opened his eyes.
Suddenly, his gaze fixed on something, and he clambered to his feet in disbelief.
After a while, he burst into laughter.
His sudden actions startled a couple passing by, causing them to halt in their tracks.
Few noticed that a tattoo had materialized on the old man’s chest, concealed beneath his tattered attire.
It resembled a triangular eye with a vertical line intersecting it.
As the black veil continued its relentless advance, not far from the British Ministry of Magic, in a Muggle-populated hotel, several well-dressed men stood before a window, trembling as they beheld the black veil.
These men appeared dignified and noble.
Behind them, however, stood a striking blond girl, blessed with an exceptional figure and beautiful features.
Had Wentworth been present, he would have been astonished to recognize a resemblance between this young girl and the wizard hunter who had ambushed him in the woods not long ago.
Suddenly, one man turned to face the girl, Kristen Graves, and grabbed her arm tightly, his voice trembling with urgency, “Kristen! Kristen Graves! This is all your doing! I warned you ages ago that we should leave England, or at the very least, London!”
“It’s impossible to eliminate Wentworth while Dumbledore protects him! And now you wanted to assassinate Wentworth within Hogwarts? I begin to doubt if Lert, who infiltrated the Congress disguised as your grandfather, was part of your grandfather’s plan or your doing!”
“See now! Wentworth hasn’t just escaped unharmed; he’s thoroughly incited the Alliance against us! Do you realize they’re all…”
Before the man could complete his sentence, he was abruptly struck by a powerful force, rendering him unconscious.
Kristen, holding her wand, had acted swiftly.
As the witnesses looked upon Kristen with her wand drawn, and the unconscious man lying against the wall, they were left dumbfounded, uncertain of how to react.
Kristen then stated, “There’s nothing wrong with my plan! The only way to eliminate Wentworth is by persevering! We might fail countless times, but as long as we succeed once, we emerge as victors!”
As Kristen spoke, the black veil passed by the window, casting its ominous shadow. Kristen couldn’t help but pause, gazing at the world enshrouded in darkness.
“If I’ve made any mistake, it’s that I shouldn’t have blindly trusted the intelligence services! Treating the Umrah Party as the remnants of an old, feeble, and sickly group.”
“In the intelligence department, someone blundered gravely! Someone committed a monumental error!”
Toward the end of her declaration, even this resolute young woman’s voice quivered with emotion.
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