Chapter 157: The Protest Escalates
"Ryan just contacted you," Ralvin's friend said, his voice low and worried, mindful of the bookstore setting. "He said things have escalated. The crowd's mood is infectious, building on itself... all that pent-up negative energy needs an outlet." He hadn't disturbed the shopkeeper standing by the door, engrossed in the unfolding drama outside.
"Look at this, the Strong Severing Charm. Its origins trace back to the era of ancient runes," Ralvin replied, seemingly ignoring his friend's message, pointing to a spell in the book he held. The description spanned five whole pages. Besides the name, incantation, and wand movement, the rest was filled with case studies left by previous authors—examples of both success and failure. These texts were enough to leave any wizard who tried to study them seriously feeling mentally exhausted, their eyes dry, their head throbbing. Deciphering runes was tedious work, and it was as if some ghost were sealed within the book; the words themselves seemed to whisper faintly as you read.
"The Strong Severing Charm, anciently known as the 'Eternal Scar'..." Being an outstanding Hogwarts graduate himself, Ralvin's friend naturally knew of the charm; he'd studied it out of curiosity back in school. He sighed. "Ah, it really has been a long time since I've read a book... It feels like ever since leaving school, I've been cut off from them." He remembered being an excellent student who frequented the library, yet in the years since graduation, he hadn't bought a single book... A shared sense of time flying and age catching up washed over both of them.
"Wait, wait," his friend snapped back to the present. "You still haven't said what we're going to do! Stop sighing! Where's the emotional flashpoint you prepared?"
Ralvin continued to ignore him. After a while, he glanced at the time displayed on his Communicator, put the book back on the shelf, and straightened his wizarding robes. "The atmosphere has been built up to this point. You can't just suppress the accumulated emotions. Naturally, we need to go along with the protesters' desires." He strode towards the door, his spirits suddenly lifted, as if marching towards an imminent victory. "Let's go. Time to head back to the Ministry."
"You lunatic!" his friend hesitated for a moment behind him, then followed Ralvin out the door. The shopkeeper by the entrance instinctively stepped aside, watching them leave.
Ralvin weaved through the protesting crowd. When he encountered Aurors from his own office, he casually tucked his wand back into his pocket and greeted his colleagues.
"Deputy Head Ralvin, not working today?"
"Had some business outside. Heading back to the Ministry now."
"Please be careful, Deputy Head. It's very crowded."
After seeing off their youngest Deputy Head, the Ministry Aurors suddenly noticed the slogans becoming more radical, the atmosphere more heated. Someone had started chanting, "Storm the Ministry, capture Cornelius alive!"
"Watch your words! Understand?!" the Aurors immediately began trying to maintain order verbally—and only verbally. But their words were like pouring oil on fire. It was like performing an 'aggressor-exciting' boxing routine in front of a knife-wielding attacker—it only served to hype them up further. Faced with the Aurors' half-hearted verbal enforcement, the protesting wizards became even more energized.
"Let's go!"
"To the Ministry!"
"Let's go ask Fudge what he meant by those decrees!"
A newly recruited Auror asked nervously, "The protesters are heading to the Ministry... are we really not going to stop them?"
An old hand just watched the spectacle unfold. "Why would we? For all we know, our own aunts and uncles are in that crowd. And for the protesters, their relatives and friends work at the Ministry. Why would they actually attack?"
"But their slogans—"
"That's just the heat of the moment, words blurted out. Don't worry about it," the veteran said confidently.
The young Auror nodded uncertainly, then nudged the older one, pointing at a witch who had suddenly appeared in Diagon Alley and was gesturing wildly. "Shouldn't we do something about that either?"
The veteran was about to dismiss it as the rookie being inexperienced when he heard a magically amplified voice, sickeningly sweet and slow, lecturing the crowd on the supremacy of the Ministry. Which lunatic is adding fuel to the fire now?! He looked towards the source of the voice and saw the newly promoted Deputy Minister, Dolores Umbridge, standing defiantly before the procession, lecturing them with the misguided bravery of someone facing down an army alone.
"Maybe we should intervene..." the young Auror said, still possessing a sense of responsibility.
"Forget it. Just worry about yourself. Tell our people to watch out for their own safety," the veteran warned, grabbing the rookie's robes as if seeing a great terror descending. He sensed bloodshed was imminent and warned the younger wizard not to try and be a hero. Looking out for oneself was paramount.
As they argued, Umbridge delivered what she believed to be her ultimate checkmate: "Minister Fudge has already begun regulating the newspaper industry! Xenophilius Lovegood of The Quibbler has been locked away in Azkaban! His house is now empty except for his child!"
"You all have families, children—you all have weak spots! Remember, the Minister has the power to issue decrees!"
The last straw can break a camel's back, and the last snowflake can trigger an avalanche. For many, the line defining that "last" is blurry. For a crowd, it defaults to the lowest common denominator. It only takes one person, pushed over the edge, to incite everyone else.
And so it was. The crowd, already worked up by magic and manipulation, was finally ignited by Umbridge's final incendiary remark.
"That old hag! She's threatening to throw us in Azkaban!"
"And leave our children orphans!"
"They abuse their power and toy with the people!"
The cacophony of voices forced Umbridge back a step. She felt a flicker of panic, but only because it was so loud. She was still confident she could control the situation. She was, after all, the Deputy Minister of Magic.
But before she could regain her composure and issue more threats to these "rioters," she heard someone shout something. Gradually, the chaotic slogans merged into a single, unified chant.
"WE WANT ANSWERS!"
"WE WANT ANSWERS!"
"WE WANT ANSWERS!"
In the last second before losing consciousness, all Umbridge saw was a blinding hail of spells flying towards her.
~~~
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