aircannonsinc Chapter 256 Are Kings and Nobles Born with a Special Kindness?
Chapter 256 Are Kings and Nobles Born with a Special Kindness?
Chapter 256 Are Kings and Nobles Born with a Special Kindness?
Picking up where we left off, the scarred man couldn't stand the sage's arrogance and declared that he wanted to take his place.
The audience was initially taken aback, then became agitated. Everyone stuck their tongues out and couldn't bring themselves to pull them back in for a long time.
But Fouchi, as if he'd seen a ghost, jumped up abruptly, slammed his hand on a desk with a loud thud, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Ha! I knew you'd been plotting a rebellion all along!"
"You let it slip, Potter! I knew all along that you harbored ill intentions towards Wizengamor and the Ministry of Magic—"
He shouted so loudly that his face turned purple, his veins throbbed, and saliva sprayed far and wide, but no one in the entire audience paid him any attention.
The sage, hearing such blasphemous words, remained unmoved, his cold eyes fixed on Harry as he slowly spoke.
"I look forward to the day when you replace me and become the sage, Mr. Potter."
"But before that, you'll be serving your sentence in New Azkaban. If you behave well, you might be able to get out sooner."
The words were still ringing in his ears when Harry threw his head back and sneered, "Ha! You scoundrel, you're good at patting yourself on the back! Who said I was going to be some kind of sage!"
Upon hearing this, the sage's pupils shrank to pinpoints, and the gentle skin on his face peeled away layer by layer, revealing an iron-blue color beneath.
Fudge, standing nearby, was even more terrified. He shook his head violently, shouting in a trembling voice, "Not a sage? You want to overthrow Wizengamo? You're insane—"
Harry laughed loudly and cursed, "So what if it's overthrown! You occupy high positions, yet you're like clay idols in a temple, receiving incense offerings but showing no divine light! You call yourselves wise, but your bellies are full of fat and grease! You establish laws and constitutions, but there's not a trace of justice in them!"
"Times have changed, and people still don't adapt. They cling to a few volumes of old writings and shamelessly claim to be experts! They are truly unjust and unethical!"
"Those bird-like holy clans, relying solely on the legacy of their ancestors, dare to amass ill-gotten gains and commit countless immoral acts! Some feed on the dead, others join witchcraft parties; they have fallen into demonic ways and practice evil magic. How many of them can maintain their integrity?"
"The rest of them spend their days indulging in fine wines and wearing luxurious clothes, getting drunk in their lavish tents; drinking the finest liquor and lying on brocade beds, living a life of debauchery and madness day and night! Even pigs wouldn't be any different!"
"To teach such fools to discuss laws and regulations is utterly laughable! Even if their ancestors were alive, they would probably curse them to cleanse the family and wipe out their entire lineage!"
These words poured down like a torrent, thoroughly vilifying the nobles and Wizengamots.
Hundreds of people in Hogsmeade Square held their breath, the wind was still, the birds were silent, and even their breathing was swallowed back.
The truth is: one scathing rebuke overturns the dark secrets, and all is silent, no one daring to hear it.
Wizards and goblins alike were frozen in place, as if petrified. Hundreds of eyes stared intently at Harry, so much so that you could hear a pin drop.
Dumbledore, sitting to the side, also turned his head, his lips slightly parted, his expression a mixture of surprise and astonishment, as if sighing and bewildered.
After about half a cup of tea's time, the sage finally came to his senses. His face showed a hint of anger, and he abruptly flung his sleeves, shouting, "Utter nonsense!"
"The Wizengamot, composed of the world's wisest men, is inherently authoritative, political, and legally binding!"
"As the creators and builders of the magical world, the nobles are even more qualified to participate in establishing order within it!"
The sage continued his incessant chatter, constantly emphasizing his seniority, almost claiming that Wissengamo's authority was ordained by heaven and earth, like an ironclad ancestral law.
Scarface became enraged by the nonsense he was spouting, his eyes flashing with ferocity, and his teeth grinding together.
His left arm suddenly tensed, muscles bulging, and several black lines darted out from under his skin.
The snake venom, once released, instantly tore the sleeves of the robe to shreds. The thick iron chain, with a "sizzle" sound, rose with blue smoke, rusted, broke, and scattered on the ground with a "clatter".
Upon seeing this, the chain on the right side quickly loosened its lock and fell to the ground.
Seeing that Harry was freed from his restraints, the sage swiftly drew his wand from his robes, pointed it at Harry, and said sternly, "Mr. Potter, sit back down."
"This is the first warning, and also the last."
"Have you considered the consequences of going against Wizengamot?"
Harry sprang to his feet, his joints cracking. He pointed his right hand at the high platform of Wizengamot, roaring angrily.
"Kings, nobles, generals, and ministers!"
"Are they born with a special destiny?"
These words were truly earth-shattering! The sound shook the doors, causing dust to fall and the roof tiles to rattle.
The sage's noodles turned from purple to green, then blackish, and looked somber, like soot from the bottom of a pot.
The vast execution ground fell into a deathly silence; even the wind seemed to freeze.
The hundreds of spectators below the stage were completely stunned, dumbfounded, and speechless. Their mouths were agape, their eyes wide, their souls practically leaping out of their heads. Their minds were filled with nothing but the thunderous roar of Harry's manhood, like a giant bronze bell pounding wildly within their very being.
Just then, a man wearing a felt hat suddenly emerged from among the owl sellers.
The man didn't say a word, but simply tossed a gray owl from his arms into the air. The owl soared into the air, letting out a strange, piercing howl that seemed to drill straight into the brain.
After the owl's cry, onlookers from all four directions roared in unison, and a tremendous surge of energy erupted. Truly, a single owl's cry shattered still waters, instantly stirring up a raging torrent!
The group of vendors selling fresh dragon meat on the east side tossed the dragon offal and meat on their stall into the air, then pulled out a foot-long cleaver from their waists and their magic wands from their sleeves. They killed any private soldiers they encountered.
The Quidditch vendors on the west side simply flicked their light wheels and comet brooms, which instantly transformed into a variety of weapons, all of which whistled through the air and swept straight into the execution ground.
The porter delivering goods to the Bee Duke from the south didn't say a word, but instead lashed the horse's rump with his whip! The horse, in pain, dragged the cart into the crowd, overturning more than a dozen yamen runners and tearing a bloody path through them.
The guest who was delivering the owl from the north jumped off the carriage, pulled out a magic wand and a pistol from his waist, and slaughtered the government troops until they were terrified.
Seeing the chaos erupting around them, the Aurors and their private soldiers rushed towards Fudge, surrounding him in three layers. Their wands pointed outwards, forming an impenetrable circle.
To everyone's surprise, Fudge seemed to have taken some kind of madness, leaping three feet high into the air from the crowd, craning his neck to peer out, and screaming like a pig being slaughtered, "They're Potter's men! These guys are Potter's men!"
"Look, they're using cold weapons!"
This series of events, though seemingly long and complicated, was actually fleeting.
At the owl's cry, Dumbledore darted to Harry and shouted, "Guardians of the Law!"
A burst of white light erupted from the tip of his staff, instantly forming a magical barrier over three zhang wide.
He then reached back to grab Harry's arm, urging, "Harry, you should go." Before he finished speaking, his five fingers slipped through Harry's arm as if probing the void.
Dumbledore was startled. When he looked up sharply, he saw that the scarred man was motionless, fading away inch by inch, and in a moment he dispersed into a few wisps of smoke and disappeared without a trace.
Is it an illusion?
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief.
It seems Harry has already escaped back to Number Two in Grimmauld Place —
No, how could he possibly escape!
Dumbledore glanced at the Visengam Tower and noticed that a cloud of blue had gathered in the air.
The clouds were a ghastly green, eerie and shifting between light and shadow, as if hundreds of green snakes were writhing within them.
Just as they were observing, they heard a "crack" sound, and a bolt of green lightning struck down from the clouds, hitting the sage squarely on the top of his head.
Before the sage could even groan, the divine light in his eyes vanished instantly, and he fell straight backward, startling his attendants who hurriedly drew their wands to defend themselves.
Fudge, who had been jumping and shouting just moments before, turned pale at the sight before him. He frantically raised his wand haphazardly above his head and cowered in the crowd, repeatedly urging, "Don't stand there like an idiot! Get out of here right now!"
The guards then pushed Fudge through the crowd and stumbled their way out of the arena.
Listen, dear reader: If Harry were to go to the execution ground, he would certainly have tried to kill Fudge first to prevent future trouble. Now, having arrived at the execution ground, he has come to realize that these wise men of Wizengamo are truly the root of all evil, corrupting the nation.
Therefore, he let the lucky rat scurry away and focused his attention on the wise men.
He was shrouded in black mist, hovering high above the clouds. He pointed his wand rapidly at several spots of flowing clouds around him and shouted, "Gather! Avada Kedavra!"
As soon as the incantation ended, the clouds from all directions rolled together into a large mass, and a pale green light peeked through the white clouds.
He cast another thunder spell, and the emerald cloud flickered between light and darkness, as if a ghost's eyes were opening and closing.
A series of cracking sounds were heard as several deadly bolts of lightning pierced down from the clouds, striking the wary old woman directly.
Before the old woman could even raise her wand, a deadly lightning bolt struck her head, extinguishing her life.
There was a bald man at the Visengam seat, with an aquiline nose and hawk-like eyes. He glanced menacingly into the air, and his gaze seemed to pierce through the clouds and fog, striking Harry's face directly.
Seeing that he seemed to have a good method, Harry spun his wand rapidly, urging the clouds to work harder.
Green lightning bolts flashed wildly in the clouds, then suddenly coalesced into seven or eight bolts of thunder as thick as a person's embrace, all of which blasted towards the bald man.
The bald man didn't move, but simply swept his magic wand through the air. The lightning bolts seemed to encounter a lightning rod, obediently twisting and turning, all heading towards the tip of his wand. They crackled but didn't cause any damage.
Once all the lightning had been drawn in, he slammed his wand hard on the ground, and the clusters of lightning, like rivers flowing into the sea, all poured into the earth and disappeared.
Just then, a sage dressed as a wife cast a wind spell, and a fierce gust of wind suddenly swept up in the square.
The howling wind initially resembled the roar of a hundred beasts, but in the blink of an eye, it transformed into a towering tornado, scattering several clouds in mid-air.
Even Harry was swayed by the gale, as if he had been caught off guard by the banana leaf fan.
He recited several incantations to stabilize his body, pressed down on the cloud, and thought to himself:
No wonder these birds are called sages; they're truly no ordinary people. In a one-on-one fight, they can't do anything to me. But these dozens of them side-by-side are a real handful.
Just as he was thinking this, the wise men of Wizengamo had already discerned his location, and twenty or thirty spells attacked him in the blink of an eye.
Some of the more agile individuals suddenly rose from the ground, taking up positions in mid-air and trapping Harry completely.
Seeing that things were not going well, Dumbledore was about to step forward to provide support when he was blocked by three wise men skilled in defense.
The old sage at the head of the group said in a deep voice, "Albus, stop. There's no need for us to fight pointlessly."
"That's not necessarily true." Dumbledore's beard and hair moved without wind as he raised his wand. "I've always been curious about the little tricks you've been up to behind the scenes."
"No! Albus, the problem is with you, not us."
"Eliminate your weapon."
Seeing that they could not agree on what to say, the three sages shouted and each used their skills to fight each other.
As the saying goes, "Two fists can't beat four hands, and even a hero can't withstand a crowd." The wise men of Wizengamo were no ordinary men, and now, when they were determined to capture Harry, spells flew everywhere, shouts rang out, and the battle was fierce and evenly matched.
A burly man, armed with a crossbow, charged through the crowd, hacking and slashing his way through the throng.
Seeing Harry surrounded, he was filled with rage. He spat on the ground, then twirled the fire crossbow bolt in his hand like a windmill, held it upside down, and charged straight at Harry.
"Old fools! Stop staring at the sky and lower your heads!"
Upon hearing the shout, the wise men instinctively ducked, only to see a hundred-foot-long staff, its entire body ablaze with emerald flames, sweeping across their waists.
"Armor for protection!"
"Obstacles are numerous!"
The sages each cast protective spells to defend themselves, and the staff collided with all sorts of demonic spells, resulting in a thunderous explosion that sent waves of demonic energy surging forth.
Do you think this burly man wielding the stick is who he is? It's none other than Ron, the Desperate Sixth Brother!
It turned out that the vendor selling fresh dragon meat, the merchant selling Quidditch supplies, and even the porters delivering goods to the Bee Duke's house were all heroes of the Boxer Rebellion in disguise.
To avoid attracting attention, these men all took age-enhancing drugs, making themselves appear to be in their thirties or forties, so that no one could tell their true age.
The group of guests who brought the owl were actually henchmen sent by the Order of the Phoenix, all of whom had been given a compound potion to change their appearance.
Ron's meddling diverted the attention of more than a dozen sages.
Harry, catching a glimpse from mid-air, laughed loudly, "Good brother! Today, let's join forces and slaughter these bastards!"
Before the words were finished, a crimson incantation light suddenly burst forth in mid-air, like a blood rainbow piercing the sun, and exploded violently!
The sound reverberated throughout Hogsmeade, the cursed light lingered in mid-air, and then transformed into a sentence:
Auror arrived. One of the sages looked up and couldn't help but exclaim, "Who is this? He actually possesses such immense magical power—poof!"
'
Before he could finish speaking, the sage suddenly coughed up a mouthful of black blood, and his flesh was sizzling as the snake venom corroded it. In the blink of an eye, only a skeleton remained.
Harry seized the opportunity, pointed his wand at his throat, and shouted, "Get out of here!"
At this command, the crowd scattered like a receding tide. Harry also leaped into the air, transforming into a gust of black wind and disappearing into the distance.
The wise men were about to give chase when suddenly a deafening explosion was heard, and the carriage carrying the Bee Duke's goods in the execution ground was blown apart.
The carriage exploded, and a burst of white light erupted, like ten thousand suns shining forth, illuminating half of Hogsmeade.
"Ah! My eyes!"
"I can't see! I can't see anything!"
"We can't let him get away! I'm going after him!"
The bald man, who had just discovered Harry's whereabouts, roared, endured the stinging pain in his eyes, cast a spell, and flew into the air, gritting his teeth as he chased after him.
However, after chasing for only a few hundred steps, a loud "bang" was heard, and a flash of red light appeared. A bowl-sized hole exploded in the back of the man's head.
The wind suddenly dispersed and he fell straight down into the pile of rocks, clearly beyond saving.
Through the crack in the window of the Pighead Bar, Fred quietly holstered his gun, took off his sunglasses, gave George a high five, and grinned, "Done."
"The range of this sniper rifle is simply perfect."