Special Forces for Handling Magical Affairs

Hunter is a soldier, and what he hates most is formalism and bureaucracy.

A makeshift team takes the stage and talks big, squandering a winning hand, ultimately harming the general public.

After downing another glass of whiskey, he looked at Vincent with a complicated expression.

She told him so many top-secret secrets about the Wizarding World; she certainly wasn't just looking for him to complain.

He chuckled self-deprecatingly, "So, tell me, your personality is just like that old devil Eric's. What favor do you want me to do for you this time?"

Vincent blinked his big eyes, looking slightly embarrassed. "Uncle Hunter, you have such a keen eye! You're incredibly accurate in your judgment of people and things. I truly admire your insight."

Hunter immediately became alert. "No—the more you say that, the more scared I get."

Actually, you can't blame him. Last year, the Wayne family claimed to be visiting an air force base, but then they disassembled a state-of-the-art fourth-generation fighter jet right in front of him, and they took it apart completely, not even leaving a single screw behind.

If he hadn't miraculously managed to get back in, he would have been killed by the old men in the military long ago.

"Ahem—" Vincent straightened his posture, making Hunter tense up.

"Uncle Hunter, Voldemort's return will undoubtedly trigger a new round of wizarding wars, which will involve the Muggle world just like it did a decade or so ago."

Hunter frowned. He had encountered many terrorists before. These people didn't consider the consequences of their actions; they would do anything, no matter how heinous, as long as they could achieve their goals.

If Voldemort suddenly decided to go to the Houses of Parliament or Buckingham Palace...

Hunter's gaze sharpened. "Your Ministry of Magic refuses to acknowledge Voldemort's return, but if things get critical, they might not even be able to protect themselves."

Soldiers don't have many tricks up their sleeves. If Voldemort, such a dangerous figure, were to return, any British Ministry of Magic with any power would choose to secretly eliminate him.

However, this is not the case in reality; in order to conceal the truth, they would even rather make a child a scapegoat.

Vincent forced a smile. "Although I hate to admit it, ordinary wizards aren't actually that much better than Muggle."

Hunter shook his head and filled the empty glass in front of him with whiskey. "Your father took me on a tour of the Wizarding World. Most of the wizards I saw in Diagon Alley weren't very intimidating. If it were a one-on-one fight, I'm confident I could take him down before he even pulls out his wand."

Muggle's fear of wizards stems from the unknown, not from magic itself.

Once you understand the conditions for casting magic, wizards aren't anything to be afraid of.

Vincent nodded in agreement. "Once an ordinary wizard loses his wand, it's almost equivalent to losing all his fighting ability. Their over-reliance on magic leads them to neglect physical training. Even if they have the best physique, they are nothing more than a punching bag."

Hunter became alert again.

Shouldn't a wizard's weakness be a top secret? How could it be revealed so easily?

He took a sip of whiskey to calm himself down. "In that case, we can't count on the Ministry of Magic at all. We can only rely on ourselves, right?"

Vincent nodded and then shook his head. "Uncle Hunter, if you had a special forces unit, the situation would be completely different."

Hunter gripped his crystal glass tightly, his brows furrowing even deeper. "A special force dedicated to dealing with magical affairs? If the old men in the military knew about the existence of the Wizarding World, they would definitely dream of establishing such a force."

He suddenly sighed, "But you also know the relationship between our army and the royal family. If we had a force like that, they wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

The Britain has the Royal Air Force and the Royal Navy, but the Army does not have a Royal title.

This all dates back to the Britain Civil War in the 17th century, when the Parliamentarian army defeated the Royalists and executed Charlie, leading to resentment of the restored monarchy towards the army.

The Bill of Rights of 1689 explicitly stipulated that the king could not maintain a standing army during peacetime, and that the army had to be established with the approval of Parliament. Therefore, legally, the army was under the jurisdiction of Parliament.

The Britain Parliament is divided into the House of Lords and the House of Commons:

The House of Lords is composed of non-elected members, including royal descendants, hereditary peers, life peers (such as former prime ministers), bishops, and judicial peers.

Members of the House of Commons are elected directly from their constituencies, serve a maximum term of five years, and exercise legislative power on behalf of the people.

Although cabinet members and the prime minister are almost all from the House of Commons, only the prime minister in the House of Commons is aware of the existence of the Wizarding World, unlike the royal descendants and nobles in the House of Lords, whose ancestors had more or less come into contact with wizards and most of them knew of the existence of the Wizarding World.

If the Army were to establish a special force specifically to deal with magical matters, the House of Lords would certainly not stand idly by and allow the Army, which is labeled as "anti-royal," to have full control over such an important force.

Hunter was getting a headache just thinking about all the political problems that lay ahead. He clinked glasses with Vincent and then took a big gulp of whiskey.

We cannot establish a special force dedicated to dealing with magical matters under the name of the army, but there are other ways to go.

Vincent gently swirled the dwindling whiskey in his crystal glass. "Uncle Hunter, weren't you promoted to lieutenant colonel? You have your own troops now."

Hunter was taken aback at first, then glared at him fiercely, "You little brat, I'm still your uncle. I even held you when you were less than a month old. I never expected you to want to see me dismembered by those high and mighty members of parliament."

"How could that be?" Vincent drank the whiskey in his crystal glass. "Uncle Hunter, you need to trust me more. The British Ministry of Magic mobilized almost the entire staff, and they still sent me to France."

He put on an innocent expression and said, "I'll definitely be able to get you out before the congressmen dismember you."

Hunter smirked. "Get lost. There's no room for negotiation."

Vincent picked up the bottle and obediently poured him a drink. "Uncle Hunter, just think about it, if you were to establish such a significant unit, your name would definitely be written into human history."

"Heh—so what? Who will remember me hundreds of years from now?"

In Hunter's view, the existence of magic is equivalent to a state secret, and the government will not choose to make it public for decades or even centuries to come.

Vincent put the bottle down, his eyes as deep and mysterious as the ocean. "It doesn't have to be hundreds of years. Maybe it will be in the next few years."

"Huh?" Hunter felt completely unfamiliar with him for a moment.

Maybe it's just in the last few years? What makes him think that?

Wait a minute—this kid's other teacher was a revolutionary, although he failed in the end, he recently went to Germany and rescued all the old men.

Could it be that...

Hunter forced himself to remain calm and took a small sip of whiskey, but his slightly trembling hand betrayed his complex emotions.

"Uncle Hunter, I intend to reveal the existence of magic."

With a muffled "boom," Hunter's head started buzzing.

He stared blankly into Vincent's eyes. "What did you say? I didn't hear you."

"I said I intended to reveal the existence of magic."

Hunter said "Oh," and suddenly stood up. "Um... I have a mission, so I'll leave it at that for now. You'll stay in this room tonight, and I'll let the front desk know."

He walked quickly to the door, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn the doorknob.

That brat is just like his father!

Hunter turned around and came back, grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was in front of Vincent, and chug it down his throat.

"You win, brat."