Dumbledore stopped at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic's atrium, which was now exceptionally chaotic.
Ministry employees were running through the ruinous corridors, shoving documents at each other before rushing back the way they came; others were waving their wands like windmills, repairing fireplaces that still had a chance of being salvaged. Everyone seemed to be short-tempered, shouting at each other.
Dumbledore's gaze swept across the hall. The once-glorious Ministry of Magic atrium now resembled a dilapidated alleyway after a Muggle bombardment.
Fragments of the golden fountain statue, shattered into more than a dozen pieces, were scattered across the floor. The deep blue ceiling was broken into chunks, and the once-glossy, dark wooden panels now only retained their "darkness." The floor was littered with shards of glass and charred stones—conventional spells could restore fractured stone slabs, but they couldn't straighten or wax warped, charred panels. Perhaps this was one reason why some Ministry employees were so irritable.
Is this the final result of what some people call "holding back as much as possible"?
Dumbledore's eyes twitched slightly. He selectively ignored the fire dragon whimpering softly in the shadows not far away.
It was a good thing Newt hadn't participated in tonight's operation. Otherwise, given that fellow's stubbornness, he probably would have drawn his wand and fought back the moment Grindelwald laid a heavy hand on the fire dragon... or maybe released even more fire dragons or something else...
"Professor Dumbledore, thank goodness, you've finally arrived—"
Before Dumbledore could continue his musings, several Ministry employees finally noticed the belated old wizard.
Like dominoes, the originally busy and chaotic Ministry atrium suddenly paused for a few seconds.
Many people subconsciously stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Dumbledore standing at the entrance. As the most powerful wizard in the current magical world, Dumbledore was admired not only for his magical strength but also for his extensive knowledge of various magical fields.
After all, every wizard in the British magical world between the ages of eleven and one hundred, without exception, had to call him "Professor."
At least, when they encountered magical problems they couldn't solve, this was the simplest and most direct way to ask for help...
"Professor Dumbledore, the Floo Network is still not restored. I've tried to re-establish the connection, but it's not working."
Madam Emork, the head of the Floo Network Office, looked like she'd seen a savior. "Those Dark Wizards used some bizarre magic. The entire Floo Network in Britain has been cut off. Would you mind taking a moment to help us see what's going on?"
Besides her, the head of the Department of Mysteries, fireplace repairers, elevator operators, Auror Office...
Almost all the wizards crowded around. The destruction left behind by "You-Know-Who" and the Death Eaters was more troublesome than they had imagined. Although the goblins from Gringotts Wizarding Bank were assisting them with undoing the curses, people still hoped to find some more reliable shortcuts, and Albus Dumbledore was clearly the answer—if even Dumbledore said there was no way, then they would have a reply they could give.
The magical foundation of these Ministry graduates is weaker than I thought... that kid was right.
Dumbledore looked around at the officials who were overwhelmed by simple magical tricks and sighed silently in his heart. He had originally thought that Hogwarts' educational results were at least average, but who knew that the reality "outside" was so much worse than he had imagined.
As for the few students who were doing okay...
"Mr. Dumbledore, the Minister and the department heads are in a meeting to discuss the relevant matters. Please wait here for a moment. I'll go inform Minister Cornelius Fudge. If there are any urgent messages, I can convey them to the Minister and the others later."
Kingsley Shacklebolt said in a deep voice. Compared to the other wizards, this dark-skinned Auror was as calm and composed as ever.
The only pity was that this reliable elite Auror was not considered part of the "Ministry of Magic" in Dumbledore's mind.
As a key member of the Order of the Phoenix, a high-ranking agent of the Tianming Group, and a Level A member of the Foundation, Kingsley couldn't possibly be used as a reference for the average strength of the Ministry of Magic. And the most outrageous thing was that even though Kingsley was trying his best to hide his talent, he was still one of the most reliable wizards in the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore couldn't imagine what it would be like if all the "moles" in the Ministry of Magic disappeared overnight.
"I understand, Mr. Shacklebolt. There are no additional messages."
Dumbledore shook his head and drew his wand to help the Ministry of Magic clean up the mess.
It seemed that the supplementary teaching plan for Hogwarts' "adult magic continuing education" should also be put on the agenda as soon as possible.
"Before those gentlemen reach a consensus, I seem to have quite a few things to do—if possible, I may also need you to help sort out and compile a list later, to see what areas I can help with, so that everyone doesn't have to keep surrounding me..."
…………
The "restart" of the Floo Network was not complicated.
For Dumbledore, the problem was how to make this task seem "complicated."
You should know, none of the devilish methods that Elena had prepared were needed. The British magical world's Floo Network was merely subjected to malicious "address hijacking." It wasn't a "data stream" attack or "underlying code" tampering...
As one of the culprits who provided the initial ideas and magical principles, Dumbledore knew where the problem was even with his eyes closed.
After diligently "studying" for five minutes, the most powerful white wizard in the current magical world tapped the fireplace lightly with his wand.
"Very clever. It seems that they understand the Floo Network's operating principles better than you do, Madam Emork—"
Dumbledore glanced at the nervous witch. His wand traced mysterious and complex patterns in the air.
Then, a few snow-like, glowing white spots appeared out of thin air and silently merged into the temporarily out-of-order fireplaces in the Ministry of Magic—although those spots looked so faint, almost like a light charm cast by a bar owner, no one present would confuse them with the floating snow effects of the Leaky Cauldron: this was Albus Dumbledore's large-scale curse-breaking demonstration in a public setting.
People widened their eyes, trying hard to see what special techniques were inside those spots of light that merged into the fireplaces.
However, nothing happened... it was as if those spots of light were merely...
"That should be fine now, I think. Madam Emork, you can try reconnecting."
Dumbledore said gently, explaining with a smile before everyone could ask, "You were all fooled by the complex and cumbersome magical network. In fact, as long as you calm down and think back to the knowledge you learned in Transfiguration class, you'll find that this is actually an ingenious Transfiguration spell—those uninvited guests used magic to deceive the Floo Network, causing them to cut off the feedback information when pointing to the destination path, creating a so-called illusion of interruption."
As he spoke, Dumbledore casually grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and sprinkled it into the fireplace in front of him.
"Diagon Alley!"
Boom!
As his voice fell, a ball of green flames rose from the fireplace.
"Well, I merely untied the knot. The subsequent Floo Network detection, reconnection, and querying work..."
"Thank you very much. Leave the rest to me, Professor Dumbledore," Madam Emork replied quickly.
Coming back to her senses, she quickly tapped the edge of the re-ignited fireplace with her wand.
As the Floo Network returned to its original state, the stalled work of the Department of Transportation also began to operate again—they had to seize the time to sort out the point of origin of those Dark Wizards. This was the request of Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office. They planned to use this list to arrest people.
This was not a complicated task. Excluding the fireplaces of the Ministry of Magic employees, the rest were all highly suspicious.
Every step, all within that little witch's calculations...
Dumbledore watched as Madam Emork and others began to trace back and analyze the trajectories of the Ministry of Magic's fireplaces tonight. He shook his head with a complex expression and turned to take the "assistance list" that Kingsley had prepared, beginning to help other wizards clean up the mess.
He did not give any hints because all the suggestions seemed to have been "thought" out before he arrived.
His role tonight was more to provide some "magical technical" assistance to the Ministry of Magic, and as a bystander, to set the tone for this farce, and to observe firsthand how much school knowledge government officials actually remembered in practical work...
And from the current situation, the efforts of the Hogwarts professors were almost all in vain.
…………
"Riddle House? What kind of place is that?" Cornelius Fudge frowned.
"I don't know, but all the fireplace traces in the atrium have the place name 'Riddle House'—"
Madam Emork hesitated for a moment, and said uncertainly, "Perhaps I'm mistaken, but before today, I've never seen the name 'Riddle House' on the Floo Network's fireplace access list. Perhaps, it's just a non-existent..."
The Ministry of Magic's records of the distribution of wizards throughout Britain were stored in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Naturally, with the "fall" of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, those files naturally fell into the hands of the Dark Wizards.
"Wait, Riddle... that name..."
Amelia Bones murmured, her face changing slightly.
However, before she could speak, Dumbledore's voice suddenly rang out.
"The northern edge of Sussex, the village of Little Hangleton—if I remember correctly, Riddle House is there."
Dumbledore sighed softly, looking at the Ministry of Magic officials in the room who wanted to say something but held back.
"Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle. Riddle House is his father's house—they can steal the paper files stored in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but they can't steal the memories stored in people's minds. Decades ago, Bob Ogden happened to visit there. In order to explore Voldemort's background, I found him before he died and persuaded him to tell me that memory..."
"Ha, Dumbledore, how many things are you hiding from us?"
Cornelius Fudge grumbled unhappily, but he also knew that now was not the time to complain.
"Well, now we know You-Know-Who's lair, albeit after they launched an attack on us—"
"Forgive me for speaking frankly, but based on my understanding of Tom, he wouldn't choose Riddle House as his lair."
Dumbledore shook his head, a clear confusion in his blue eyes. "In fact, I also don't understand why he would choose Riddle House to launch an attack. It's the residence of his Muggle father. In theory, it should be the place he hates and rejects the most."
"I don't care about the logic of a mad Dark Wizard. I just hope you can tell us in advance next time—"
"You may have forgotten, I did indeed remind you in advance."
Dumbledore peered at Fudge sternly from behind his half-moon spectacles, and Fudge stammered.
"But fortunately, it's not too late. Voldemort thinks we don't know the specific location of 'Riddle House.' We can immediately send people to that place to investigate. If you're worried about safety, I can go with you..." Dumbledore took out the pocket watch with twelve hands from his pocket and glanced at it. "It's four in the morning now. If I don't return by six, go to Nurmengard Castle immediately—"
"Nurmengard? You can't mean—"
Cornelius Fudge's mouth opened wide, as if some terrible thing was rolling in his throat.
"If I die, then the only person in this world who has the chance to kill Voldemort is Grindelwald."
Dumbledore said calmly. "He and his subordinates can definitely compete with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Of course, this is only in the worst case scenario. If all goes well, we will soon figure out what happened and..."
The old wizard didn't finish his words, but meaningfully swept his gaze across the Ministry of Magic officials in the room.
"In short, we better leave as soon as possible..."
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Hooray!