Chapter 936
Sunset in the Chairman's Office
Chapter 936 Sunset in the Chairman's Office
In the office of the president of the Magic Congress, the documents and files that were piled up a few days ago are now reduced to just a few scattered on the large mahogany desk.
The evening sunlight slanted in, illuminating the slowly floating dust particles in the air, and also the meager "to-do list" on the table.
Ezra Hughes frowned, picked up the top document and glanced at it—"Investigation Report on the Substandard Quality of Potion Materials Sold by Multiple Shops in Echo Alley".
His lips twitched slightly, then he tossed it aside.
The second document was submitted by the Department of Magical Animal Management, concerning the frequent incidents of goblin disturbances.
Then came a draft proposal forwarded by the International Department of Magical Cooperation, suggesting exchanges and learning among magic schools in various countries.
Each one was more insignificant than the last, more trivial and absurd than the last.
Hughes slammed the stack of papers he was holding onto the table with a thud. His chest heaved violently, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.
"You're still sitting in your office; you haven't officially stepped down yet!"
He growled in a low voice, trembling with rage.
"How dare they—how dare they use this garbage to fill out this office! Do they even have any respect for the chairman? Do they even have any respect for the Magic Congress?!"
Behind his desk, Hawthorne remained silent. He simply got up and walked to the window, looking down at the employees gathered in small groups in the atrium below.
The place was once filled with solemnity and efficiency, but now it seems to be permeated with an invisible atmosphere of inertia and wait-and-see.
Or rather, they were all waiting... waiting for someone, the one everyone hoped would take the stage.
Leila is handling the important business now, isn't she?
"Lyra Picqueli..."
Ezra Hughes slowly uttered the name, his voice filled with the sting of betrayal and unbelievable disappointment.
“I originally thought she just had some petty thoughts, but she knew the rules and could consider the big picture… I even considered her a colleague I could work with.”
“But we all misjudged her! Nickloh…”
He said with a heavy heart, "This person's ambition far exceeded our expectations. But I don't understand how she managed to convince others to support her?"
Nicklo Hawthorne looked out the window; the sky was overcast, as if it were about to rain.
Upon hearing Ezra Hughes's words, he slowly turned his head, a slight smile even appearing on his face.
He raised his hand, rubbed his aching temples, and said casually:
"Since everyone is more supportive of Ms. Picqueri—perhaps this is the best outcome for the American magical community right now."
He said in a hoarse voice, “Democracy is always accompanied by choice, and the people… well, my colleagues who represent the people… have already made their choice.”
“A foolish choice!” Ezra Hughes roared.
Hawthorne chuckled, patted his old friend lightly on the shoulder, and said:
“To be honest, Ezra, I’ve been wanting to rest for a long time. These years have been too tiring… Maybe it’s time to go back and spend time with my family and take care of my almost abandoned book collection.”
"Nicholson!"
Hughes could no longer contain himself. He took a step forward and shouted, "This isn't rest! This is betrayal! It's their betrayal of you, their trampling on the dignity of the Speaker of Congress! You can't just... just accept this with a smile!"
As Hawthorne looked at his loyal friend, a crack finally appeared in his mask of feigned composure.
A deep weariness, helplessness, and a hint of pity—something Hughes had never seen before—fleeted across his eyes. He sighed, his voice low and devoid of any feigned ease.
“Ezra, anger won’t change what’s done. Lyra won the majority, and her methods…though dishonorable, were effective.”
"I only understand now... In this position, 'being right' is far less important than 'interests'—even very short-term and superficial interests."
Hawthorne paused, his gaze distant, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips, and said:
“I fought back, in my own way. When you weren’t looking, I visited a lot of people and wrote dozens of letters… But now, I’m tired… I know it’s time for me to leave.”
“But Ezra, even if I no longer sit in this office, you are still here… conserve your strength and stop being so forceful in opposing them.”
“My friend, your anger and your principles are precious; don’t waste them on defending me. The Magic Congress… needs people like you who, at some point in the future, will still remember what is right.”
Ezra Hughes gritted his teeth. He saw a deeper anger and weariness in Hawthorne than in himself, and a disheartened calm.
He couldn't bear to continue.
At this moment, yelling at Hawthorne won't change anything.
Hawthorne smiled at him, seeing that he was finally willing to accept the truth.
The congressional speaker did not complain or sweep the trivial documents aside, but instead sat back down in his chair and picked up his quill pen.
"Forget about all that! This is an insult!" Hughes roared again.
"Even if it's just to wrap up the last part of my work..."
Hawthorne said calmly, his voice, though not loud, clearly echoing in the office: “To finish well, Ezra.”
He lowered his eyes and began to examine the absurd documents.
The pen tip grazed the parchment, making a soft scratching sound that was unusually clear in the excessively quiet room. His annotations were meticulous, with neat handwriting and rigorous logic.
Ezra Hughes turned his head and stared at the crowd below the window, his eyes filled with resentment and disgust. A burning rage raged within him, searing his heart, yet he had nowhere to vent it.
Finally, a few minutes later, Hawthorne finished reviewing the documents.
He put the quill back into the inkwell, neatly stacked the documents on the corner of the table, then stood up, took the slightly worn but ironed dark blue robe from the coat rack, carefully put it on, and smoothed out the wrinkles on the shoulders.
"Let's go, Ezra."
He turned to Hughes, who was still standing there with a somber expression.
Hughes paused for a moment, then walked over and asked, "Where are we going?"
“Before I officially step down, there’s one more thing I want to clarify.” Hawthorne walked toward the door and said in a deep voice, “We’re going to visit Mrs. Serafina Picqueli.”
Hughes' pupils contracted slightly.
Seraphine Picqueli, Lyra's aunt, the legendary former chairman who lived for a long time on her own estate and was almost forgotten by the political arena, and an old friend of Dumbledore.
Should I go see her at this sensitive time?
"Of course, there are some things I've wanted to talk to her about face-to-face for a long time, but I just haven't been able to find the time..."
Hawthorne paused, then said, “Come with me, Ezra. This may be… the last useful thing I can do for you, for the Magical Congress.”
(End of this chapter)