North American Ministry of Magic hall in the early morning.
This was originally the most orderly and majestic center of power in the entire Wizarding World, but at this moment it fell into unprecedented chaos and panic.
The dozens of huge fireplaces connected to Floo Network on both sides of the hall were spitting out miserable green flames crazily, and countless Wizardss with frightened expressions stumbled out of them.
There were so many cross-department memo paper planes in mid-air that they looked like a swarm of bats that had lost its direction, bumping around aimlessly under the ceiling.
The mournful cries, questions, and desperate sobs almost overturned the towering dome of the hall.
Three hundred elite Auror, plus several directors and senior officials from powerful departments.
This is almost one-third of the top combat power of North American Wizarding World.
Just last night, this group of people set out in great force, but as of this morning, not even a scrap of parchment could fly back.
The staff on duty who stayed in Ministry of Magic used all the detection spells and went through all the life tracking lists, and finally came to the conclusion that it was like falling into an ice cave.
The magic marks representing the lives of more than three hundred people were all extinguished at a certain time late last night, like candles extinguished by a violent storm.
The whole army was wiped out, and no bones were left.
"What the hell happened! My son just graduated from Ilvermorny and joined Auror Office. He just went on a mission yesterday!"
A middle-aged witch wearing an old robe sat slumped next to the magic fountain in the center of the hall, pulling her hair desperately.
"Did Muggle's army come over? Has International Statute of Secrecy completely failed?"
"Even the director of the Management Department is dead, what can we do to resist that unknown monster!"
Panic is like a virulent infectious disease, spreading rapidly in every Wizards's eyes.
People didn't even dare to speak loudly, for fear that the terrifying enemies who could kill three hundred elites overnight would blast open the door of Ministry of Magic in the next second.
Just when the situation was about to get completely out of control, some people even started to discuss escaping from United States.
On the spiral staircase directly in front of the hall, there was a slow, heavy, but extremely firm footsteps.
An old man wearing a simple dark gray robe, holding a dark red wooden cane, slowly walked into everyone's sight.
He looks too old.
His snow-white hair and beard are meticulously groomed, and he wears a pair of half-moon glasses on the bridge of his nose.
The wrinkles on his face were filled with the vicissitudes of time, and his eyes, which had always shown kindness and wisdom, were now covered with red bloodshot eyes, and their eye sockets were sunken, as if he had been shedding tears for his dead compatriots all night long.
He walked slowly and his body was a little thin, but his spine was straight.
That kind of perseverance in desperate situations was like a needle that calmed the sea, instantly calming the panic of the whole audience.
"It's Your Excellency the Minister..."
"The minister is here."
The crowd spontaneously gave way to a path.
Those Wizards people who were crying in despair just now, when they saw this old man, they were like lost children who had finally found their backbone. Many of them even covered their mouths, and tears burst down the bank again.
Old Minister walked to the fountain in the center of the hall and stopped.
He did not bring any entourage, nor did he show off as a superior official.
He just used his red eyes, full of compassion, to slowly look around at everyone present.
He slowly raised the Wand in his hand, put it against his throat, and recited the spell in a hoarse but extremely clear voice:
"Sonorus."
The old man's voice, blessed by magic, spread throughout every corner of the Ministry of Magic hall.
There was no panic in the voice, only a gentleness and sadness that could calm all fears.
"My children, my colleagues."
Old Minister's voice trembled slightly, with a sadness that made people feel the same.
"I know what you are afraid of, and I also know what kind of pain you are experiencing. Just in the early hours of this morning, I lost my most capable subordinates, Wizarding World lost three hundred of the bravest and most fearless warriors."
The hall was so quiet that only the suppressed sobs could be heard.
Old Minister closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if suppressing the huge sorrow in his heart.
"They didn't die at the hands of some Muggle army, nor did International Statute of Secrecy be destroyed. They died in the trap of a group of vicious and vicious illegal poachers and Dark Magic mercenaries."
Old Minister's eyes suddenly opened, and those kind eyes burst out with righteous anger, which made people awe-inspiring.
"Those shameful villains, in order to plunder our precious Fantastic Beasts and extract those dirty gold coins, actually used the most despicable means and unknown evil forces to ambush our Auror in the dark of night!"
He leaned on his cane and took a step forward. His tall and straight figure seemed extremely tall at this moment.
"They think that with this cruel massacre, they can scare us, make us give up protecting those innocent magical creatures, and make us Wizarding World lower our noble heads!"
Old Minister's voice suddenly rose, echoing under the dome, "But they were wrong! Big mistake!"
He stretched out his wrinkled hands tremblingly and pointed to the midair in the hall,
"Those three hundred Auror died to defend the dignity of Wizarding World! They died to protect the weak! Their blood flowed on this land, not to make us cry and escape here, but to awaken our courage!"
Many young Wizards's blood boiled with excitement and they held the Wand in their hands tightly.
Old Minister took off Half-moon Spectacles from the bridge of his nose and casually wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with his rough cuffs.
At this moment, he was no longer the aloof Ministry of Magic supreme leader, but an old grandfather who had lost his child but still stood strong at the front.
"As long as I stand here for one day, as long as my old bones can still wield Wand."
Old Minister put on his glasses again, looked at everyone firmly, and made an oath word for word,
"I promise you, I will definitely find out the details of those villains! No matter how deep they hide in the ground, no matter what their background is, I will definitely find them out! I want to seek justice for those children who died! Blood debt must be paid with blood!"
With a bang, the whole hall was boiling.
No more panic, no more despair.
Old Minister's upright speech completely ignited the flame in everyone's heart.
Wizards They looked at the old man standing in front of the fountain, their eyes filled with incomparable enthusiasm and respect.
In their hearts, this Old Minister is Wizarding World's purest conscience and the brightest beacon in the darkness.
With such a kind, tenacious leader who will do whatever it takes for justice, Wizarding World will never collapse.
Old Minister looked at the Wizards people around him who had cheered up again and were grateful to him. He bent down slightly and bowed deeply to everyone.