Cornell's Thoughts on National Crisis and the Need for Outstanding Generals

Chapter 279 Cornell's Thoughts on National Crisis and the Need for Outstanding Generals

Now, Voldemort, in a fit of rage, sent a challenge to the Seven Kingdoms, intending to turn the magical world upside down.

The Death Eaters around him, their blood boiling, were filled with turmoil. They immediately knelt down in a dark mass, received the order, and scattered like a whirlwind.

Seeing that everyone had left, Lucius kowtowed several times to Voldemort and then crawled away. As he passed Crabbe's corpse, he silently grabbed a lock of hair from the corpse before retreating into the shadows.

It was late morning, the darkest time of day, and the earth-shattering news had already been swept away by the cold wind.

Upon hearing this news, the allied ministries of magic were stunned and speechless for a long time. Although they were extremely unwilling to go to war, not one of them dared to rub the Dark Lord's whiskers.

They had no choice but to draft a petition and burn it in the fireplace at the Ministry of Magic of the Seven Kingdoms.

Inside the British Ministry of Magic, it was late at night. Fudge was fast asleep in his office chair, an empty bottle of flaming whiskey lying across his desk.

He dreamt of the Duke of Zhou, but in his daze he saw Scrimgeour returning from Azkaban, his prison clothes tattered and worn, but his eyes wide open like copper bells.

He stood before a hundred or so reporters, shouting incessantly, saying that someone wanted to murder him.

Then, two Aurors jumped out from the crowd to testify; they were Fudge's trusted men whom he had secretly dispatched to escort them that day.

"We were forced; we were ordered to kill Mr. Scrimgeour on our way to Azkaban."

"That's right; you all know this person!"

The photographers' cameras flashed incessantly, the light so bright it was blinding. Several reporters, twisting and turning like eels, pushed their way forward, shouting at the top of their lungs, "Who is this person?"

"It's the minister!"

Upon hearing this, Fudge cried out in surprise, jumped up from his chair, clutched his chest and panted like a broken bellows, his whole body soaked in cold sweat.

"Hoo—hoo—it was just a dream—"

He was calming down when he suddenly heard a loud banging on the door, followed by his assistant's panicked cry: "Minister!"

"Something terrible has happened!"

Upon hearing the shout, Fudge's heart leaped into his throat. He dashed to the door, ripped open the latch, grabbed his assistant's collar anxiously, and cried out, "What happened in Azkaban?!"

The assistant stumbled as he was pulled, and after a moment of surprise, he shook his head vigorously, like a rattle-drum, and shakily handed over a roll of parchment.

"No, Minister, the message came from Poland."

Upon hearing about Poland, Fudge's heart sank. Seeing his assistant's ashen face and trembling lips, he knew something was wrong and snatched the letter away.

He unfolded the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the first few lines. When he saw the word "declaration of war," it was as if he had been hit over the head with a blunt object. He froze on the spot, his eyes unable to move.

Fudge felt a white blur before his eyes, and his ears were ringing as if a thousand cicadas were chirping in his head. Half of his soul had already been scattered, and he stood there like a wooden statue.

A mysterious figure has declared war on us?

When did I send people to Warsaw to carry out a terrorist attack?

No, that's just an excuse. The mysterious person wants to start a war!

He was startled, and by the time he came to his senses, the petition had already landed on the ground, and he found himself half-paralyzed in his assistant's arms.

"Minister?" the assistant said bitterly, "What should we do?"

Fudge, seemingly drawing strength from nowhere, straightened his back and broke free from his assistant's embrace, sternly ordering, "Go write to our allies first and see what their attitude is."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud bang was heard, the office door was flung open, and an assistant stumbled in, clutching a stack of letters. Before he could even steady himself, he shouted, "Minister! Our allies are questioning you about the mysterious man's declaration of war!"

These words felt like a fishbone stuck straight into Fudge's throat. He felt a tightness in his chest, as if his breath had blocked out, and his face turned purple. He then changed his tune and roared, "Go and fetch Scrimgeour!"

Meanwhile, Harry and his group traveled through the clouds and mist, returning to Hogwarts.

Before they even landed, they could see a towering figure standing in the clearing of the forbidden forest from afar; it was Maxim.

As soon as Norbert landed, Maxim rushed over, craning his neck and anxiously asking, "Is Hagrid back?"

Did you bring him back?

Harry jumped down, clasped his hands in a fist and said, "Sister-in-law, please don't worry! Since we're going, we'll naturally protect my brother."

"Now he's perfectly fine, not a single hair on his head is missing, let alone any broken bones."

Having said that, he took Hagrid, who had already been awakened, from his arms and put him down. He then drew his wand and tapped it. Hagrid's body crackled and popped, growing taller in the wind, and in the blink of an eye, he regained his towering figure.

Hagrid stepped forward and said with a smile, "Long time no see, Orim."

Maxim's eyes were already red, and now he could no longer restrain himself, charging into Hagrid's arms like a bull charging into battle. Two large, fan-like hands cupped his face, and without a word, he kissed him.

Oh my! That kiss was truly earth-shattering.

The two mouths were stuck together, making smacking noises. Sometimes it sounded like a gourmand gnawing on a trotter, smacking with juice, and sometimes like a rogue pulling out a cork of wine, making a loud popping sound. The birds roosting in the forest were startled and flew away in all directions. It was truly a sound that echoed throughout the forbidden forest!

This scene was truly earth-shattering, even the toothbrush that came to greet its master was stunned.

Dumbledore clicked his tongue in admiration and quietly left first. Harry's eyelids twitched as he watched, and he immediately bowed and said, "Brother and sister-in-law, please continue your conversation. I will take my leave now."

After saying that, he tugged at Hermione's sleeve and turned to leave.

Maxim was lost in the kiss when he heard Harry's words. Suddenly remembering something important, he quickly pulled half his face out of Hagrid's arms and called out, "Wait a minute, Harry."

"Where did Mr. Helbo go? If possible, I would like to thank him in person."

"If he hadn't volunteered to be a hostage, I probably would never have met Rupert."

Harry thought for a moment and then laughed, "There's no need for a formal thank you. Brother Halbo is probably back in that cave, fast asleep."

After saying that, he and Hermione strode off toward the Gryffindor common room, each going their own way back to their dorm rooms.

When Harry pushed open the bedroom door, he saw Neville and Seamus sleeping sprawled out, snoring loudly.

When Ron looked again, he was dressed neatly, sitting cross-legged against the bedpost. Although he was holding Willow Cudgel in his arms, he had already turned his head and started snoring softly.

Harry cast a spell and laid Ron flat. He then climbed into bed, his mind replaying Halpert's dying words.

Just as he was pondering this, his eyes glazed over and his bones felt weak, he suddenly heard a house-elf whisper in his ear, "Mr. Harry Potter, Professor Dumbledore is looking for you. Something terrible has happened!"

These words struck Harry like a dagger, instantly banishing all traces of sleepiness.

He sat bolt upright in his seat, demanding, "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, sir, Professor Dumbledore will only speak to you when you get to his office."

Harry, upon hearing this, knew something terrible must have happened. He hastily threw on his robes and put one arm around the house-elf's shoulder.

It snapped its fingers, and the two figures vanished instantly. When they opened their eyes again, they were standing in Dumbledore's office.

The old headmaster, unusually, was not at his desk, but sitting upright in front of the fireplace. Green flames rose from the hearth, and faces floated in the firelight, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing, as if whispering to Dumbledore.

Harry rushed forward, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, "Professor, why did you summon me in the dead of night? What terrible calamity has befallen you?"

Dumbledore simply sprinkled a handful of silver dust into the fireplace. The various faces in the fireplace hissed and vanished into the smoke.

He then pulled a roll of parchment from his sleeve and handed it to us, saying slowly, "Voldemort has declared war on us."

Harry was taken aback, picked up the parchment to examine it closely, and then sneered, "What an arrogant scoundrel! How dare he openly issue this challenge? Do you think that I, along with all the heroes of the world, are paper Guan Yu, unable to lift a sword?"

He then asked, "What does Fudge have in mind?"

"Kingsley told me that he had brought Scrimgeour back from Azkaban."

Harry's eyes widened, and he gasped. "Wow! This scoundrel can actually get something done!"

"I always thought he was clutching that ministerial seal like it was his lifeblood, but I never imagined he'd actually have a moment of desperate urgency!"

Dumbledore remained silent, staring intently into the fireplace. After a long while, he sighed and said, "Harry, we started this war."

Harry nodded, pulled over a chair and sat down, looking up and saying, "Professor, please speak."

Dumbledore paused for a moment upon hearing this, then raised his voice and said, "Don't you understand? The lives of these dead are to be credited to us."

Before he could finish speaking, Harry shook his head repeatedly and said, "Professor, you're mistaken. How can you attribute hundreds or thousands of lives to us?"

"This war should have been fought long ago! It's just a shame that Fudge didn't do anything about it!"

"You think Voldemort will simply crumble on his own by issuing a few proclamations and hurling a few insults?"

"The longer we endure, the more Voldemort's minions will grow. When his army arrives, we will all be fish on a chopping block, and the casualties will be a hundred times worse than they are now!"

"Furthermore, those who risk their lives for him, if they have any backbone, they will rebel against him. If they are afraid to live, they will cower and hide."

"But if we are to go into battle and someone takes our lives with a single curse, we will have to accept the consequences on our journey to the underworld, and we cannot blame anyone else for this!"

Harry's words were truly powerful, and the portraits of past headmasters on the wall nodded in approval.

Dumbledore remained silent for a long time before shaking his head and saying, "It seems we have very different views."

Harry added, "As the ancients said, a gentleman seeks harmony but not uniformity, while a petty person seeks uniformity but not harmony. But at this moment, there's no need to concern ourselves with such trivial matters. The most urgent task is figuring out how to deal with Voldemort."

"I think we'll have to check this morning's newspaper. The official body is the British Ministry of Magic, not the Order of the Phoenix or the Boxers."

Dumbledore stood up, grabbed a handful of powder, and crawled into the fireplace, saying, "I'm going to Wizengamor. I might not be back by tomorrow morning."

"I'll have to trouble you with the task of calming the students down."

As soon as he finished speaking, the powder was tossed aside, a flash of fire shot into the sky, and Dumbledore vanished, leaving only a few sparks flickering in the furnace.

Harry paced back and forth in his private office for a while, then suddenly summoned his house-elf and said, "Lead the way, I'm going to my Slytherin bedroom to meet Draco Malfoy."

The house-elf was taken aback, about to argue that the Gryffindor student shouldn't be going to Slytherin. But then he remembered that it was Harry Potter speaking, and he didn't hesitate any longer.

He immediately hooked up with Harry, snapped his fingers, and took him there.

The two figures appeared and disappeared in an instant, arriving at Draco's bedroom. The bedroom was damp and dark, with only two snoring sounds vying for attention.

Gore lay on his back, his mouth agape, his throat churning like a bellows, while Crabbe lay on his side, gritting his teeth and groaning like a millstone being pushed. The sounds rose and fell, shaking the bedposts and causing dust to fall.

Harry went straight to Draco's bedside, intending to wake the person on the bed, but unexpectedly Draco suddenly sprang up, pulled out his wand and went straight for Harry.

"Who is Mr. Potter?!"

Draco recognized the newcomer and lowered his wand slightly, but still dared not withdraw it.

"What brings you here?"

Harry wasn't afraid at all, and just crossed his arms and laughed, "I just wanted to have a few private words with you, no need to be alarmed."

"Tell me, do you know that Voldemort has issued a challenge to the British Isles?"

Draco trembled violently, exclaiming in a trembling voice, "A declaration of war against Britain?!"

Despite the shout, Gore and Crabbe's snores continued to race, one snoring softly like a leaky bag, the other rumbling like a carriage crushing stones, showing no signs of weakening.

Harry said, "This news is no doubt about it; you'll know once you read the paper during the day. And let me ask you another question: has your father let anything slip lately?"

Draco's mind raced, but he forced himself to remain calm and shook his head repeatedly, saying, "My father never said that the Dark Lord intended to start a war."

"If you don't believe me, I can show you the letters my father has been sending me these days."

Harry didn't answer, pondering for a while before suddenly asking, "When I asked you to pass on that secret method for exorcising Dementors, did your father reply? It's like he's disappeared without a trace."

Draco responded fluently, saying, "Father said the Dark Lord is very cautious; he doesn't trust things from you, so he burned the talisman."

Harry pondered for a moment upon hearing this, then raised his hand and patted him on the shoulder, "You should go to sleep now, I've asked all the questions."

Having said that, he took the house-elf and vanished in a wisp of white smoke.

As the smoke cleared, Draco felt his spine go limp, and he slumped onto the bed, muttering, "They've started a war?"

The next morning at dawn, Harry and his friends went to the Great Hall for dinner. As soon as they were seated, they saw hundreds of owls flying around.

Owls from all over the world—from their own, from the public, from the post office, from pets, from homes—truly a hundred owls came together, offering everything imaginable.

Ron was stunned and said, "What's going on? I've been to school for five years and I've never seen so many owls."

Harry looked up at the air, grabbed the newspaper that Snow White had thrown at him, and said, "Brother, you'll know just by reading the newspaper."

Ron muttered to himself, picked up his subscription to the newspaper, and then exclaimed, "What the hell?! Voldemort has declared war?"

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Hermione, having also read the newspaper, exclaimed in horror, "They were already fighting in France early this morning!"

Harry looked closely, his blue eyes widening in disbelief, and cursed, "Damn it! How could we have lost six cities?!"

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