Chapter 694: Grand Fireworks - Part 1
Amidst the crowd's anticipation, the agreed-upon time arrived.
The square in front of the Parliament Building was packed with people. Anti-wizard demonstrators had chosen this day for their protest, drawing crowds from all the counties around London. Even some "freelancers" had traveled from the north, hastily unpacking banners and flyers from their suitcases to join the march, barely pausing to eat.
But there were just too many people. The printed flyers were insufficient, and many in the crowd eagerly sought them, even approaching the organizers with smiles, depleting their stock of pamphlets. The crowd slowly moved forward, occasionally lifting their voices in chants.
"Who are all these people?" the organizer couldn't help but wonder.
After a brief reconnaissance, his assistant returned to report.
"There are many foreigners, as well as people from nearby counties. They've come to witness this significant historical event," the assistant explained hastily, noticing the organizer's incredulous stare. "Of course, we also have many allies. I saw six or seven familiar organization names, all recently formed."
He spoke the truth. At this point in time, while the internet existed, its influence still lagged behind traditional media. This meant there were no nationwide anti-wizard organizations yet—most were based in counties, with few able to operate across multiple regions. To spread their message, many organizations published articles in newspapers, along with addresses and contact numbers.
What they didn't know was that a small number of wizards were also mingling in the crowd.
The march always attracted individuals in extravagant attire, providing a safe environment for wizards to conceal their identities. Some wizards walked with the procession for a while but soon found it unbearable and withdrew.
"There are so many people against wizards," Ernie Macmillan said pale-faced, his legs swaying as if unsteady, sweat beading on his forehead, overwhelmed by the massive turnout.
"More than the crowds at the New Year parade," Justin Finch-Fletchley added with lingering trepidation.
The sky was overcast and gloomy, with thick clouds. Though there had been a light rain in the morning, the clouds had not dispersed by afternoon; instead, they grew heavier. The sky above resembled spilled ink, ominously dark, threatening a downpour at any moment. In the distance, a bleak grayish-white light hinted at foreboding.
More wizards chose to stand on rooftops, having received news from magical radios and newspapers, waiting for the outcome. From above, the winding, colorful procession filled the streets, intermittently erupting with boisterous chants. Closer to the Thames, the focal point of these converging processions became clear—the Parliament Building.
In one corner of the square in front of the Parliament Building, various news vans were already parked. Renowned media outlets from across the country—and indeed, the world—had come, eager for firsthand information. Both the wizarding and non-wizarding worlds could easily draw one conclusion:
Everything about to unfold today was of paramount importance, representing the first formal encounter between wizards and the general populace, with implications too vast to gauge.
"At the scene, the police are maintaining order. We can see that The Daily Prophet has dispatched several prominent journalists, including Skeeter, who gained national fame in the recent gun control series—two weeks ago, she had a brief conversation with a wizard during the riots; it remains to be seen if she can continue her streak today..."
A reporter shouted into the camera, his voice reaching countless households in the next second.
In the London city area—the Granger couple sat on the sofa, hands clasped tightly together; Mr. Finch-Fletchley's coffee sat untouched in mid-air, having grown cold; in Surrey, Aunt Petunia cursed as she turned on the television, muttering familiar obscenities.
Cornwall, Umbria County, Devonshire, the Isle of Wight, Kent—the hearts of all were stirred by the scene unfolding in front of the Parliament Building...
On a tall building across the Thames, two figures suddenly appeared. The sky was gray, and the wind was blowing, so no one noticed them. The two seemed like they were cut from the same mold.
"Oh, it's you, George," Fred said seriously.
"Yeah, what a coincidence. How did you end up here?" George replied with perfect timing.
"I suppose it's because we both Apparated here together," Fred grinned.
"Alright, you two!" Mrs. Weasley shouted in frustration, with Ginny and Penelope by her side. "I warn you, don't cause any trouble today. If either of you dares to sprinkle candies below—"
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
"It's too brilliant, Mum. Why didn't we think of it? We only brought the latest Weasley fireworks—"
"—You should have been consulted as consultants for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
"Both of you, shut it!" Mrs. Weasley said furiously, waving her wand as if brandishing a poker. Fred and George cowered in fear.
"What about Bill and Fleur?" Fred looked around.
"—And Charlie," George added.
"Yeah, I never realized how big he actually is," Fred remarked.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes blazed, but she forced herself to calm down; after all, there were Muggles below. She lowered her voice to scold, "Both of you, simmer down! Your father and Percy are cooperating with the Ministry, Bill and Fleur are blending into the crowd to maintain order, as for Charlie..." She hesitated, "His work is confidential."
"Are Harry and Ron more important?" Fred and George asked curiously.
"That's different," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "They don't need to keep it a secret; it's already been in the newspapers. Fourteen children in total... they're so young and already carrying the future of the wizarding world on their shoulders..." She wiped her eyes.
"Don't upset Mum!" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "She's been crying in secret several times."
"Don't worry, Professor Harp will protect them," Penelope added. "And there are wizards hidden around."
"Yeah, I think at least a tenth of the wizarding population is here; Diagon Alley is half empty," Fred said, looking around. He pointed in a direction. "I saw familiar faces over there, the Davies family. Did you see Cedric waving at us?"
"Should we go say hello?" George asked, tilting his head.
"You're speaking to my heart," Fred said with a grin. The two of them linked hands and Disapparated. Mrs. Weasley huffed like a bullfrog, puffing up her chest. "Always keeping us on our toes!"
Ginny's eyes sparkled; she wanted to go out and explore too, but she was a step too late.
Soon enough, Fred and George returned, bringing news from nearby.
"Cedric said he can't reach Cho," Fred said. "I told him, just give it another half-hour, and his girlfriend will drop from the sky—such a shame we've graduated; otherwise, we might have sneaked in—"
"Fred!"
"Alright, they're all doing fine, emotionally stable for now—except the Perkins family picked a fight and ran into some Muggle enforcers, had to relocate!"
"Is old Perkins still hunched over?" Mrs. Weasley asked with concern.
"Mom, I didn't think you'd ask that question. He's been giving away camping gear for the past two years—oh, don't change the subject, Mom, we also saw the Lovegoods, dressed like two canaries. By the way, have we cast protective spells?"
"They've been cast."
If the procession on the ground resembled the ebb and flow of waves, then the rooftops of surrounding buildings were like the rocks in the sea, seemingly occupied by wizards, protected by Muggle-Repelling Charms, everyone anxiously awaiting.
Finally, the procession converged in front of the Parliament building, waving various colored flags and banners (and raincoats). Every now and then, a group would shout slogans like "Expel Wizards" or "Punish Lawbreakers." Of course, among them were some odd characters, a handful of young people with mystical symbols painted on their faces, two with wizard hats and a banner reading "Welcome Wizard Rule the World." But they were outnumbered and ended up getting roughed up by angry passersby, looking dejected.
More people sat in front of their televisions, eagerly anticipating a glimpse of the wizards.
The Parliament building, formerly known as the Palace of Westminster, was the largest Gothic building complex in the world, occupying over 8 acres with more than a thousand rooms, serving as the seat of the British Parliament. As a famous national landmark, it naturally hosted other events, such as today's occasion.
A squad of soldiers, wearing bearskin hats and red velvet military uniforms with black trousers, stood guard at the gates. They had accompanied the Queen here an hour earlier, surrounded by the Prime Minister and several ministers, before disappearing inside.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, the Great Bell in the northeast corner of the palace chimed on time, its resounding toll quieting the restless crowd, echoed by radio broadcasts nationwide. Everyone perked up; the time had come.
The Queen and the Prime Minister emerged from the palace, followed by a group of cabinet ministers and members of Parliament, along with their elegantly dressed wives and families—although everyone knew what was going on, at least nominally, the Queen had merely extended an invitation to wizards for her afternoon tea party, with the possibility of a bonfire party later if things went well.
"How's the Science Division doing?" a parliament member asked an attendant.
"They're still calibrating the equipment. It's their first close observation of magic, and they're all very enthusiastic, believing they'll gather useful data."
"I'm not as confident as you."
The gates slowly opened, and the Queen's entourage stood taller. Everyone (including those watching on television) craned their necks, speculating on how the wizards would appear.
"Are the tomatoes and rotten eggs ready?" a group of people hid under a large banner, someone whispered.
"They're ready. I guarantee they won't escape, no matter where they come from," another person beside him said firmly.
"Don't forget, those creatures can fly."
"We have water guns filled with pepper oil, and I heard someone brought electric shock guns too!"
"We should give them a taste of our colors! Give me a rotten egg—no, make it a tomato."
"Look up!" someone with keen eyes shouted.
Black and dark gray clouds churned continuously, then a section turned orange, and blazing columns of fire pierced through the thick clouds, like leaks from a faucet forming a beautiful fan shape. The ground erupted into chaos and exclamations—"It's a dragon!" More people looked up, and a black, sinister creature appeared in the clouds, covered in black scales, with bronze horns glinting coldly on its head, yellow eyes peering down, carrying some people on its back.
The appearance of the mythical creature silenced the crowd below; journalists dropped their microphones at some point.
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