Chapter 817
Ringtone
Chapter 817 Ringtone
"Two teams?" Harry almost jumped up from his seat, instinctively turning his head to look around the cabin. "He has accomplices?"
"Nothing surprising, this kind of madman..."
Sirius gritted his teeth, stood up, and said, "I'm going to economy class right now!"
His gaze met Lupin's for a fleeting moment, then Sirius walked straight to the back, patting old Auror on the shoulder as he passed Moody.
"I'm leaving this place to you, Alastor and Remus!"
Sirius said in a deep voice.
Moody: "...Okay."
He was already standing in the middle of the aisle, leaning on his cane, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Victor's calm profile and Mordis's pale face. His normal eye was filled with undisguised shock and a bewildered confusion about the situation.
Lupin had already guessed what was going on from Wade's attitude, while Sirius's thoughts were more direct. He wasn't in a hurry to understand the whole situation; he just needed to know what he needed to do right now.
Meanwhile, Moody in the back row remained on edge, as if he were shrouded in a fog, his demonic eyes swirling wildly and erratically.
At this moment, the confusion and the anxiety of feeling excluded from the crowd are replaced by a sharper and more specific sense of vigilance.
He nodded solemnly, disregarding the ironclad rule of "concealing magic from Muggles," gripping his wand tightly in his hand, and glancing at Lev Zakharov beside him with a sharp, piercing look.
Zakharov: "...?"
The man remained seated upright, his hands clasped on his knees, seemingly confident, but in reality, he was even more bewildered than Moody.
At least Moody knew who his companion was, while Zakharov's mind was filled with enormous question marks. If it weren't for the rule against disembarking mid-flight, he would have liked to leave right now!
……
Victor's gaze remained unwavering as he continued, "What is the purpose? What is the ultimate goal of this operation?"
"The purpose, the purpose is..."
Modish seemed to have all his strength drained away; his lips trembled slightly, and cold sweat soaked his hair.
He slumped in his chair, Victor's hand hovering near his neck like a guillotine, making it impossible for him to think calmly. He dared not conceal anything any longer, and in a trembling voice, he uttered the order from his superior:
"Kill Wade Gray at all costs..."
"Oh?"
This answer surprised Victor somewhat. He first turned to look at Wade, who had finally turned his attention to him, and then asked to confirm:
"Not an attempt to win them over? Not a form of kidnapping?"
"Do not……"
Modigliani took a deep breath:
"The leader judges that the power of the puppets represented by Vader Gray... this new and unknown realm is too powerful and too difficult to control..."
“Wade Gray, he already has everything we can give him in the wizarding world… and he’s very difficult for us to use or assimilate…”
"If the organization forces him to work for us, it will only backfire and allow him to develop the power to turn against the organization. It's better to... better to eradicate him completely from the root."
Victor asked curiously, "You Purifiers are quite different. You don't seem to covet the power of the puppets at all? I remember your werewolf puppet was quite well made. This doesn't seem like you're uninterested in puppets."
Modisis was speechless, instinctively resisting the urge to reveal more secrets. However, Modi shook his wand, and a spell's light quietly fell upon the man.
Victor suddenly looked up at Moody, his brows furrowing slightly.
Moody was looking at him, his expression both dangerous and astonished.
Victor thought for a moment, seemingly understanding something, a slight smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes glanced at Wade.
Just then, Mordisi, under the spell, shuddered, his expression instantly becoming blank, his eyes moving uncontrollably, and his voice slurring:
"We have mastered the basic manufacturing method of the puppet and will be able to mass-produce it soon... The leader believes that such things are better used if they are a little clumsy and rigid."
“They are tools…tools, they don’t need to be too smart, nor do they need to have a personality…otherwise, they would be…too dangerous…”
At that moment, Hermione gasped and instinctively covered her mouth with one hand.
Her gaze swept quickly, with a hint of fear, over the surrounding passengers before turning to Wade, her face suddenly turning deathly pale.
Lupin's brows furrowed tightly, and an unprecedented solemnity settled over his gentle face.
As his gaze turned to Wade, he heard Harry angrily say from the other side:
"Being smart is too dangerous? That's absurd!"
The boy clenched his fist and said angrily, "The danger is never intelligence, but your desire to exploit other people's minds and labor, while not allowing them to resist. That's why you're afraid of people who are smart and have their own personalities!"
"Because you are afraid—afraid of no longer being able to control everything as you please, afraid that those who are treated as tools will have their own will!"
Harry was unaware that at that moment, everyone in first class was watching him.
He also failed to realize the issues that Hermione and the others had connected to—
For example, some passengers on an airplane may not be real "passengers," but rather incredibly real puppets.
Harry's thoughts were still lingering on the purpose that Mordis had just confessed, and then he pieced together the connection by cutting off the beginning and ending—
Those people were willing to kill his friend at all costs... just because he was too smart?
What's wrong with being exceptionally intelligent? Only incompetent and mediocre people would think that Wade's intelligence is a threat!
And the fact that only those who accept their rules and are willing to be ordered around and assimilated can survive is even more outrageous!
Harry couldn't help but picture a figure wearing a tattered pillowcase—Dobby.
Look! Even house-elves, who have been enslaved by wizards for a very long time, yearn for freedom and crave rewards, let alone humans who are born free!
"It's like how Malfoy and his ilk think that house-elves can only be slaves to their families and can't have their own thoughts!"
Harry said emphatically:
"But the real danger lies not in a clever and free spirit, but in the desire to enslave others!"
Mordisis was in a daze and naturally couldn't stand up to refute Harry.
But the boy's words struck the others like a bolt of lightning, instantly illuminating the shadows in their hearts and dispelling the growing fear.
In that instant, Hermione's eyes shone brightly, and an unparalleled resonance and agreement welled up in her heart;
Lupin gave a truly gentle and gratified smile as he looked at Harry, as if he could see Lily's soul, which sought justice and equality, shining in the boy.
Even Moody's face showed a barely perceptible flicker of emotion.
He never trusted any non-natural existence, and the puppet with its own thoughts made every nerve in his body scream with danger.
But Harry's words revealed a most basic set of values that even Moody found deeply moving—
Wizards, goblins, house-elves, and perhaps even other intelligent beings like centaurs and giants—in the boy's eyes, they were only black and white, distinguished by their own good and evil, but not by race. This kind of thinking was extremely rare among wizards, even those of Muggle origin or half-blood.
"Hahahahahaha..."
Suddenly, a loud and hearty laugh rang out in the cabin.
With a smile on his rugged face, Victor looked at Harry and said, "A wizard like Mr. Potter is truly a rare find. Now I understand why you were called the 'Savior' at such a young age!"
Harry's face instantly turned bright red.
The fact that this shameful title was uttered by a seemingly powerful adult wizard, and not with the malicious mockery of Snape, only made Harry feel more embarrassed, wishing he could become a cushion in his chair.
He frantically waved his hands, saying, "No, no, no... I didn't save the world! It was... it was my mother's magic that deflected Voldemort's spell, not my own power... I... I was just lucky..."
Isn't luck a form of ability?
Victor dismissively said, "If you feel you don't deserve such a weighty title, then work hard to grow and become worthy of it as soon as possible!"
Harry paused for a moment, then nodded seriously.
Beside her, Hermione's once clear eyes became confused again.
—Could this "Viktor Kravchuk" really be just a puppet, as she suspected?
She subconsciously looked at Wade again, only to see that Wade, who had seemed detached from the matter, now had a barely perceptible upward curve at the corner of his mouth, revealing a faint yet meaningful smile.
His eyes held understanding and approval, but he made no comment on Harry's point of view, simply saying naturally:
"What the enemy thinks is not really important to us... at least not right now. The priority now is to find out the Purifiers' second team before they do anything more dangerous."
Victor's smile faded, he glanced at the bewildered Modigliani, and said gruffly:
"It's a pity that this guy doesn't know the other party's identity either, otherwise this matter would be much easier."
Then, as if carrying a light piece of luggage, he picked up Modigliani and tossed him to the terrifying-looking Moody.
"Here, it's all yours now! Professional work should be done by professionals!"
Victor clapped his hands, as if they were dusty, and said:
"I don't carry around any sophisticated stuff like truth serum. You can take him back; we have plenty of time and ways to make him spill everything he knows!"
Moody stared intently at Victor, silently took Modigliani from him, and roughly shoved him into the empty seat next to him.
Unlike Hermione, who was bewildered, Moody's Magic Eyes could see through clothes, through the thin layer of skin on a person's body, and see the blood flowing through each person's body and their pale bones.
However, Alastor Moody did not have a hobby of spying, nor did he want to measure the size of a person's skull before seeing them.
Therefore, he usually restricts the power of his magic eye, using it only to find out if others are hiding weapons or doing anything underhanded behind his back.
However, at this moment, when he looked closely... he naturally figured out the identity of the "person" opposite him.
Victor seemed to know this too; he even smiled slightly as he handed the man to Moody, as if he were provoking him.
Moody's temples throbbed with veins as he struggled to control himself and refrained from unleashing the spell directly.
Lu Ping frowned and said, "A group of dangerous individuals whose identities, appearances, and even their exact numbers are unknown... how do we find them?"
He habitually turned his gaze to Wade, his tone filled with trust and inquiry: "Wade, what are your thoughts?"
Wade finally put away the endless book of friends and stood up from his seat.
"We're certain they're not in first class. As for who they are... perhaps we should go check it out ourselves."
Wade said meaningfully, "Maybe the moment we show ourselves, the other side will give themselves away?"
……
Adebayor adjusted his hat, his cold gaze sweeping over the man who kept repeating "privilege," "injustice," "Corneles," and "Rena," a hint of impatience flashing in his eyes.
The man held the lives of everyone on the plane in his hands, but Adebayo was certain that the man had no intention of actually detonating the explosives; he simply wanted to use them to coerce others into paying for his daughter's medical treatment.
Even though communication on the other end of the line was extremely difficult, and the airport and CNN reporters were unable to find an institution to treat "Corneles" or make any definite promises, Quevin Martin's emotions gradually stabilized under the reassurance from the other end.
The reporter named Kerry didn't offer any empty promises; instead, he spoke with utmost sincerity—
“Mr. Martin, please trust us. Even if you are taken away by the police after the plane lands safely, our promise to Renina will still stand.”
"CNN will use its global media resources to find every possible treatment for her and will cover all medical expenses."
After a slight pause, Kerry said solemnly:
"You don't need to worry that we will break our promise afterward—CNN is a global news organization, and the promises we make to a global audience need to be kept more than any political declaration!"
"This is the foundation of our company. I think you are well aware of this, which is why you insisted on connecting with us, right?"
His gentle and understanding words touched the softest part of Martin's heart.
The man's arms fell to his sides, his tense shoulders relaxed, and the anger he had been holding back receded like a tide, replaced by a torrent of tears.
"Thank you... thank you..."
He choked back tears, his voice filled with guilt and relief: "I'm so sorry everyone... but I really had no other choice... to save Renina, I had to take this path..."
At that moment, Martin's breakdown and sobbing on the live broadcast channel, along with host Kerry's tearful expression, were transmitted via satellite to screens in millions of homes.
—Although individualism is prevalent in the United States today and family ties seem weak, the human resonance for family affection and the yearning for a better life have never been extinguished.
Countless viewers were moved by this scene, their eyes welling up with tears as they prayed for the girl and breathed a sigh of relief that the hijacking incident was finally coming to a perfect end.
Quevin Martin's act of hijacking a plane to save his daughter, risking his life, is far more noble and moving than that of many irresponsible fathers.
At this moment, countless people made up their minds to petition for leniency for Quevin Martin—to ask the court to exempt him from or reduce his punishment.
However, on the plane, Adebayor watched all of this indifferently, his face showing no emotion, only extreme impatience and a hint of offended irritation.
“Disgustingly weak emotions!” he muttered. “What a waste of time… I thought you’d have more guts!”
He glanced down at his watch and muttered to himself, "Mordish hasn't reacted at all. He's probably been caught. What a useless piece of trash... Oh well, we can't wait for him to retreat any longer. The mission must be completed!"
The next moment, there was no warning, no countdown.
Adebayor reached into his pocket, found a small cell phone he carried with him, and dialed the number he knew by heart without hesitation.
Suddenly, a series of clear bell sounds rang out from the cargo hold below the plane:
"Jingle Bell……"
(End of this chapter)