Mysterious Journey

Chapter 572: The Fragility of Adults

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It was the year 999 of Hogwarts, 1992 in the Common Era.

April 21st, 9:40 AM. (See Chapter 361 for details on the magical era.)

Around the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, crowds surged, resembling a grand feast of revenge.

Ravenclaw prefect, Melpomene, covered her mouth, exclaiming in disbelief.

"Good heavens, I've never seen so many people at Hogwarts before!"

"Don't even mention it. I've taught at Hogwarts for decades and have never witnessed such a sight," Professor Flitwick shook his head, equally astonished as he watched the wizards flooding into the pitch. His feet floated a foot above the ground, barely keeping him from being obscured by the dense throng.

Having heard of the importance of the public trial taking place today, wizards from all over the country had gathered to be the first to learn the outcome of Peter Pettigrew's trial, and the ultimate fate of their life savings.

You see, with the sudden disappearance of the "Magical Federal Reserve," the majority of wizarding families felt as if the sky had fallen, plunging them into a state of impotent rage. At this moment, the Ministry of Magic's discovery of the company's registration information, along with Hogwarts' capture of Peter Pettigrew, was like the only glimmer of hope in their despair.

Nearly every wizard's face was etched with gloom. The fury of being swindled out of their entire fortune had completely consumed their minds. So much so that, despite the rare return to Hogwarts, they didn't even enter the castle, heading straight for the Quidditch pitch.

However, for the Gryffindor students, this was hardly a pleasant affair.

Because the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry happened to be right next to the Gryffindor's potato patch…

"Hey! Don't step on that soil! You imbecile!"

"If you're so capable, just fly in! Don't trample our potatoes!"

A dozen or so young lions in Gryffindor robes stood guard over their potato patch, their faces hostile as they watched the expressions on faces of those coming from outside the school gradually turn manic.

"Go around! Go around! Did you hear me?!"

After another futile attempt to dissuade them, a boy drew his wand and roared at a wizard who was trampling the vegetable patch not far away.

"This is too much! You stepped on the potato I planted! *Impedimenta*!"

The searing beam of magical light shot out, striking the middle-aged wizard who was hurrying by, sending him sprawling face-first into the mud, resulting in a particularly undignified faceplant.

"You little brats? I was already in a bad mood, and now you're…"

The middle-aged wizard quickly recovered, scrambling to his feet while cursing and drawing his wand, ready to teach the student a lesson. Having lost all his savings, he was looking for an outlet for his pent-up anger.

However, before his arm could fully rise, he heard a series of incantations.

"*Expelliarmus*!"

"*Expelliarmus*!"

"*Protego*!"

"*Muro*!" (Mud Wall)

"*Lapifors*!" (Turn Mud to Stone)

"*Impedimenta*!"

Seeing the adult wizard preparing to cast a spell, the effectiveness of the Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons over the past few months immediately became apparent.

Several Gryffindor students reflexively formed two tactical squads of three, swiftly establishing a defensive front and providing magical fire support, as Professor "Otto Apocalypse" had taught them in class.

As the young wizards took the initiative, the remaining Gryffindor students guarding the edge of the potato patch finally abandoned their futile attempts at persuasion and directly drew their wands, joining the small-scale magical conflict of the Potato Defense War.

At first, these wizards, coming from all directions, strangers to each other, and filled with anger, tried to fight back.

After all, most of them were filled with frustration. In this volatile emotional state, they didn't care if they were facing a group of students who hadn't even graduated. Or rather, it was precisely because they saw that they were just students that they chose to use this as an excuse to vent their pent-up resentment and rage.

However, harsh reality once again gave these wizards, who had graduated years ago, a lesson.

According to the Ministry of Magic's previous statistics, after graduation, many wizards in the magical world continued to increase their magical power, but their skills and knowledge in magical combat had fallen behind. Many people in the Ministry of Magic couldn't even use "*Protego*" properly.

Moreover, most of the wizards who had slightly better grades back then had joined the Ministry of Magic and wouldn't have gathered sporadically from all directions like this, impatiently crossing the signs and heading straight for the Quidditch pitch.

Facing a group of students who cooperated well and received personal guidance in magical combat techniques from the first Dark Lord every week.

After only the first two waves of magical fire coverage, this group of adult wizards who had rashly invaded the Gryffindor potato patch were all knocked to the ground, wands scattered, groaning in pain as they curled up.

And some of them, who were already full of bitterness and repression, had finally returned to school intending to get an explanation, but before they could even see the culprit, they were pinned to the ground by a group of students and beaten up, their eyes even reddening at this point.

"So many people, so many people invested, why would something like this happen… I don't want interest, I don't want it, I just want my savings, those are my savings for so many years… Please give it back to me…"

"Peter Pettigrew, you murderous fiend! I'm a pureblood too! Why did you swindle my money…"

To the surprise of the vigilant students, the middle-aged wizards who had been knocked to the ground by the spells didn't become angry or act excessively again, but instead sat listlessly in the mud, muttering somewhat frantically.

"Fred, George, what do we do now…"

"Of course, we follow the professor's instructions in class, collect the wands, clear the battlefield, and check for magical items…" Fred Weasley rolled his eyes at Lee Jordan beside him and replied without thinking.

George Weasley nodded in agreement, adding.

"Don't forget, if you encounter resistance or someone muttering incantations, don't approach them. Just add two more spells first."

The adult wizards who came to attend the public trial were too weak, even inferior to the Slytherin squad of the same grade. This was completely beyond Fred's expectations, especially…

Fred looked at those wizards whose hands were bound by spell ropes, their faded wizard robes bearing several spell marks, their eyes seemingly red. The adult wizards who had been defeated by their spells in one encounter, he shook his head helplessly.

Alas, these adults were all too fragile.

"Stop! Those are just children, don't attack the students…"

"Ministry Aurors, I order you to stop immediately…"

Only then did a surprised voice come from the direction of the castle gate not far away.

The Ministry of Magic's delegation, having just arrived at Hogwarts en masse via Portkey, was marching towards them under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore and a group of professors. The angry voice was only half-spoken before it was replaced by astonishment.

"Oh, dear God, what in the world is going on here?"

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Chapter 1.

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