Court Wizard

The advent of controllable nuclear fusion symbolizes a new era of energy revolution. Its birth signifies the obsolescence of all existing energy sources, posing immense challenges to nations whose global hegemony relies on traditional energy.

The Queen never expected that the important matter Vincent spoke of would be so significant, transcending national boundaries and representing a dream for all of humanity.

After a brief moment of astonishment, she saw confidence and sincerity in Vincent's eyes.

With current technology, true controllable nuclear fusion is still decades away.

But Vincent is a wizard, a wizard from a Muggle background.

The Queen couldn't suppress her rapid breathing; her hand, holding the delicate teacup, trembled slightly, betraying her extreme inner turmoil.

"Lord Wayne, you are severely violating the regulations of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

"I know," Vincent replied with a wry smile. "Your Majesty, do you know why I'm wanted by the British Ministry of Magic?"

The Queen gently shook her head.

"Because Voldemort, he's back."

Her furrowed brow slowly began to relax.

She had witnessed countless significant historical events in her life and understood very well that certain truths should be utterly buried.

Truths like Voldemort's return, which could destabilize the wizarding world, should be buried. But there was no need to make someone else a scapegoat for it all, especially when Vincent was so young.

He should have had a bright future, becoming a great wizard like Dumbledore.

It was just that due to the Ministry's misjudgment, he had become the third Dark Lord of this century.

The Queen felt a pang of regret, but seeing no trace of sadness in Vincent's eyes, she couldn't help but feel a sense of respect.

"Lord Wayne, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Wizards or us, which side do you favor?"

Vincent remained silent for a moment before shaking his head. "I favor humanity as a whole. Wizards and Muggles should coexist peacefully, which is why I aim to prove the necessity of magic through the realization of controllable nuclear fusion."

The Queen seemed to grasp his intentions.

Since ancient times, both Muggles and wizards have harbored significant prejudices. Magic, as the most distinct difference between the two, proving its necessity would indeed unilaterally reduce Muggle prejudice against wizards.

Conversely, the realization of controllable nuclear fusion would also allow wizards to deeply understand that technology is not without merit; Muggle technology is as great as magic.

The Queen looked at Vincent with exceptional kindness. "Lord Wayne, since it is for the benefit of all humanity, I have no reason to refuse my help."

Genuine gratitude appeared on Vincent's face. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

The Queen's smile was particularly warm. "Lord Wayne, I suddenly have an idea. Although we don't have a formally appointed court wizard, I hope you will consider taking on this special position."

The British Royal Family had only ever had one official court wizard in its history: Merlin Ambrosius, who famously assisted King Arthur in his ascension.

There had been many court sorcerers, but they lacked official appointments and were not involved in political or ceremonial functions.

The court wizard the Queen spoke of clearly possessed the core responsibilities of the elder Merlin: political assistance, forecasting major events, medical aid, and magical practice.

Vincent, without hesitation, decisively shook his head and refused the royal family's offer.

"Thank you for Your Majesty's favor, but I'm afraid I must disappoint you."

The Queen raised her hand in a gesture of understanding. "Lord Dumbledore also refused this offer in the past. In my opinion, Lord Wayne seems to be of the same ilk as him."

Vincent's eye twitched slightly.

Dumbledore's refusal was simply due to his fear of losing himself in the vortex of power, while Vincent's refusal was equally straightforward: he simply detested politics.

The official court wizard of the British Royal Family could be considered a top-tier position in the Muggle world. Even the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards would be somewhat hesitant due to the political influence this title carried.

However, accepting this position would mean placing a shackle upon himself, which went against the very founding principles of the Succession Society.

The Queen keenly sensed his displeasure. "Lord Wayne, do you have any conflict with Lord Dumbledore?"

Vincent let out a few dry laughs. "Your Majesty, what conflict could we possibly have? Without Professor Dumbledore's teachings, I wouldn't have achieved what I have today."

He emphasized the word "achieved" with a hint of gritted teeth, which piqued the Queen's curiosity.

Just then, Vincent's expression suddenly changed.

It was a wizard's presence, and more than one.

"Lord Wayne?"

"Your Majesty, other wizards have arrived. I must take my leave."

The Queen understood. "Lord Wayne, I will inform the Prime Minister of your situation. As for the specific arrangements, that will be up to you all to decide."

Vincent expressed his gratitude once more, then donned his Imposter mask and vanished into a black and white vortex.

He reappeared outside the castle, startling Kingsley, who was on high alert and immediately drew his wand.

Judging by Kingsley's reaction, the arrivals were likely not wizards from the Ministry.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, do you have any leads?"

"You have so many enemies in Britain, how could I possibly know who it is?"

If not from the Ministry, it could only be that group of pure-blood lords.

But why would they target Vincent if there was no profit to be made?

Wayne Enterprises had already withdrawn from the British market; they should have been popping champagne to celebrate.

Vincent took out the Serpent Staff. "Mr. Shacklebolt, they're after me. You go protect the Queen."

Kingsley didn't need Vincent to tell him; that was his plan all along.

In the blink of an eye, Vincent's figure vanished into thin air.

On a hill a kilometer away, over a dozen wizards clad in black robes appeared one after another.

They all exuded a faint aura of dark magic, clearly professional dark wizards who specialized in dirty work.

"The target has left the castle. We can move now."

"Where is he?"

"Outside the castle—no, he's gone!"

An old wizard looked around in terror.

His pride and joy, his detection magic, had yielded no response whatsoever. Clearly, they had underestimated the target's magical prowess.

One of the witches among them urgently sent a message via Magical Communicator, while the remaining wizards cast magical barriers.

The hill fell into a silence so profound a pin could be heard dropping. The old wizard had spread his magical power across a 100-meter radius, ready to detect any disturbance immediately.

Although there was a slight deviation from the original plan, they had successfully lured the target here and only needed to wait patiently for him to appear.

However, while they had patience, Vincent, standing a hundred meters away, had even more.

He had already set up the anti-materiel sniper rifle, transformed from Pandora, and was observing their every move through an alchemically modified scope.