Seven core members of the Monte Family were seated in the reception room of the mansion, most of them middle-aged and no longer young. There was only one young wizard, who looked about sixteen or seventeen.
But faced with the family head's question, for a moment no one dared to speak rashly.
"Gregor, as the family heir, I want to hear your thoughts," Rusev Monte suddenly said, calling out the young wizard by name.
"I..." Gregor Monte was momentarily at a loss for words. The image of that young wizard, the one who had once rested a hand beside his wooden bed, crouched down, and calmly watched him, had appeared again on the Television. Over the years, he had lost count of how many times that scene had appeared in his dreams. If what had awaited him that time had not been a Petrification Curse, but a Killing Curse...
A middle-aged wizard in his fifties, with an air of self-importance, spoke up to remind him, "Gregor, the family head is asking you a question. Please don't lose focus..."
"Ah, sorry! Uncle Franz!" Gregor gave a violent start, then hurriedly gathered his words in a timid, hesitant manner. "Allen Harris drove away Dumbledore, defeated the Dark Lord, and now he can raise a city all by himself..." Seeing the family head Rusev Monte's face grow ever darker, he cautiously changed his tone and tested the waters. "Perhaps, when facing such a powerful wizard, we shouldn't adopt a stance of direct confrontation... We should com... compromise. At least make some compromises on the surface, so the other side doesn't make us their target?"
"Family head, I have a different view. We must never compromise with Harris. Although right now it seems no country can rely on itself to oppose the United Kingdom,