Dumbledore Was About to Be in Deep Trouble

After leaving the Ministry of Magic, Lestrange entered the Berlin Philharmonic, not far from Potsdamer Platz.

The walls twisted and turned, and the interior was highly irregular.

As a wizard, he found it genuinely difficult to appreciate this aesthetic.

When the majestic symphonic prelude began, he discovered that the irregular ceiling actually helped direct the sound field.

Magic could achieve even better results, but Muggles deserved respect.

For better performances and a better experience for the audience, they must have spent countless nights racking their brains.

Having cast off his former biased views, Lestrange could understand why Vincent had told him to stroll through Muggle streets when he had the time.

They were not completely worthless. They simply could not use magic.

Voldemort's belief that magic equaled power was itself steeped in discrimination.

It would have been one thing if wizards had been united, but Grindelwald's defeat had already proven that impossible.

As the performance reached its climax, Lestrange closed his eyes and savored it.

At the same time, in Diagon Alley,

The Daily Prophet headquarters.

"Chief Editor Gufei, this is a great chance to salvage our image!"

"If you want to make something up, at least pick a better target. They're all our shareholders!"

Rita clutched the article in her hand tightly.

After agonizing over it for two days, she had still decided to expose the Wizard Cards scam.

The handwriting on the anonymous letter was not impossible to recognize, and this was another bombshell after the Death Eaters feature.

She was not afraid of retaliation from those pure-blood lords. She would expose the dark dealings of wizarding society.

Just imagining it made her blood surge. Why would she care about the status of a few shareholders?

"They're only minor shareholders."

Chief Editor Gufei's expression darkened. "Together, they nearly