novelnext Chapter 341 The Notes That Fuel the Tide
Chapter 341 The Notes That Fuel the Tide
Chapter 341 The Notes That Fuel the Tide (4K) (2/2)
As he finished speaking, only the faint sound of the thick fog rolling silently outside the tent could be heard.
After a brief silence, the cold voice finally rang out again, its tone flat, yet like a needle pierced by the chill, precisely striking Lucius's eardrum: "Did you have fun tonight, Lucius?"
Each word was clear and slow, as if savoring the meaning of the sentence itself.
There was no roar, no rising tone of questioning, but the meaning it contained made Lucius feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave, and the blood in his body seemed to freeze!
This is not a greeting, nor is it an inquiry.
This is a reckoning!
It was demanding an attitude, a stance, from him for everything that had happened in this camp tonight, for those burning tents, for those terrified screams, and—for those Muggles who had been hung up!
Answering "happy" is tantamount to admitting that you were immersed in and enjoyed the atrocity, no different from the crushed dregs on the ground.
Answering "unhappy" would seem hypocritical and weak; he was indeed in the thick of it, wearing a mask, participating in this ostensibly "for the Dark Lord" carnival.
In a flash, all of Lucius's shrewd calculations turned into his most instinctive will to survive.
Without pausing, the instant the other person finished speaking, he blurted out in an almost frantic voice, "I saved them! Your Excellency! Those Muggles! I insisted on keeping them alive!"
He kept his head bowed, his forehead almost touching the cold, muddy ground, and his voice was slightly distorted with urgency and excitement, quite different from his usual reserved and indifferent tone.
He dared not hesitate for a moment and had to immediately throw out this only bargaining chip that might change the outcome of the trial.
Then, there was silence.
A suffocating, boundless silence.
The thick fog seemed to absorb all sound, leaving only his own frantic heartbeat pounding in his chest, each beat causing his eardrums to ache.
He could feel that gaze still fixed on him, cold and calm, like a tangible weight pressing down on his back, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Time stretched out endlessly, each second feeling like an eternity. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, down his taut cheeks, and dripped into the soil beneath him, yet he didn't even dare to raise his hand to wipe it away.
Countless terrifying thoughts surged uncontrollably within him: Had he spoken too hastily, making himself appear guilty? Did the other party already know the whole story, including his initial dissuasion based solely on a weighing of pros and cons? Was that "Have you had fun?" just a final mockery before execution? He could even picture the cold, condensed magic gripping his throat—
The pressure was like a rising tide, threatening to overwhelm his last shred of reason.
His kneeling posture began to tremble imperceptibly, not from the cold, but from the fear deep in his soul.
He stared intently at the small patch of murky muddy water before him, his pupils constricted, awaiting the final verdict—perhaps a pardon, or perhaps, like his companions outside, to be silently crushed in the mist.
Just as that string called fear was about to snap, "Explanation" came into play.
Lin Qi's voice finally came again, just two simple words, still without any emotional fluctuation, but like a key, it suddenly inserted into the locked space, causing a tiny crack to appear in the almost solidified pressure of death.
Lucius took a deep breath, as if a drowning person had finally surfaced, though the air was still icy cold.
He spoke rapidly but clearly, briefly recounting how he had dissuaded his comrades from killing him when the mission was assigned, citing the need to "create greater panic" as the reason. Finally, with a barely perceptible tremor in his voice, he added, "—So although they are injured, they are still alive, Your Excellency. As long as they are sent to St. Mungo's in time, they will certainly be healed."
After he finished speaking, he held his breath and waited.
After a moment of silence, a very soft, almost inaudible chuckle came from above.
"Heh." There was indeed a hint of laughter in that voice, but it sent chills down Lucius's spine even more than the direct chill.
"Then on their behalf—thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
The "thank you" pierced Lucius's ears, bringing no warmth whatsoever. Instead, it was like a cold, venomous snake, instantly coiling around his heart.
The hairs on his back stood on end, and his head drooped even lower, almost burying itself in the soil.
"No—I wouldn't dare, Your Excellency. I only—did what I should have done," he replied with difficulty, each word carrying immense weight.
"What should be done—" Lin Qi repeated the words with a playful tone, then the fake smile vanished like mist, and his voice returned to its usual cold and flat tone, "So, tell me, besides this unforgettable lesson," what other "things should be done" you planned tonight?
The problem is coming.
A question he could not avoid and had to answer carefully.
Lucius dared not conceal anything, nor embellish anything. Before absolute power and insight, any lie or embellishment was foolish. He remained kneeling, repeating in the most objective and concise language possible: "Yes, Your Excellency. Tonight's operation is divided into three groups. One group is responsible for disrupting the Floo Network nodes in the center of the camp, creating widespread chaos and delays. The second group will set fire to the border between the Irish and Bulgarian supporter camps, intending to provoke conflict and divert the Ministry's attention." He paused, lowering his voice further, "The third group—the one you just saw—was originally targeting the Muggle Administrator's family, with the aim of creating a deterrent effect."
He was concise, omitting the fervent words uttered when the mission was assigned, and not dwelling on the cruel "fun," but simply stating the core framework of the operation.
After speaking, he held his breath again, like a prisoner awaiting judgment. He knew that the "plan" he had handed over might demonstrate a hint of "cooperation," but it also definitively confirmed his role as a participant tonight.
Lucius's concise yet complete statement dissipated in the cold air.
Lin Qi stood still, his exquisite suit, which seemed out of place with the dilapidated surroundings, was spotless, as if the storm of killing and boiling murderous intent that had just occurred had not touched him in the slightest.
As he listened, deep within his gray eyes, thanks to the catharsis he had just vented, the turbulent waves stirred up by the horrific scene and painful memories were calming, solidifying, and settling at an astonishing speed.
The Death Eaters' plan itself was nothing new.
Create chaos, stir up trouble, demonstrate power, and then disappear.
It largely matches the deductions Reggie and he made based on prior intelligence.
The Death Eaters are still the same Death Eaters, their methods are brutal and direct, and their motives are obvious.
The expected folly was not beyond our control.
The only, glaring oversight that nearly drove him to lose control came precisely from the Muggle who was hanging and nearly killed, outside of this "roughly matching" situation.
The anger was not completely extinguished, but it was no longer a wildfire that scorched reason; instead, it had transformed into a deeper, colder fuel for analysis.
His mind raced, filtering out personal emotions, like a precise scalpel dissecting the core of the problem:
Why would a Muggle be in such dire straits amidst the carnival of 100,000 wizards?
The answer is not complicated, and even sadly familiar.
Ministry of Magic.
In managing this unprecedentedly large camp, the pampered bureaucrats found themselves struggling with their conventional methods.
They lacked administrative experience in dealing with the wizarding community.
They need manpower, and they need people who are familiar with the maintenance and management of large venues.
Thus, a "convenient" and low-cost solution was adopted: a pair of local Muggle camp administrators were given a powerful Confusion Charm, which made him and his family "voluntarily" and "professionally" serve them under the influence of magic, handling trivial matters that low-ranking "Mudblood" officials might not even bother with.
Ultimately, this is a contempt that is deeply ingrained in one's bones.
Officials in the Ministry of Magic may appear more "enlightened" in public than those fools who clamor for "pure-blood supremacy," but the arrogance and disregard for Muggles, inherited from centuries of pure-blood families holding power, which views them as tools to be used or harmless background figures, has long been a systemic problem.
They never truly considered the safety of Muggles in the core risk assessments of large-scale wizarding events.
In the Ministry of Magic's contingency plan, the Muggle administrator and his family might just be a vague "background element" that can be soothed or dealt with by magic at any time, rather than a "non-participant" that needs to be seriously protected.
What happened to the Roberts family tonight is the cruelty of the Death Eaters, but isn't it also the inevitable consequence of this systemic indifference?
The arrogance of the wizarding world opened the door to its own "convenience" while exposing the innocent to the claws of darkness.
Lin Qi slowly closed his eyes.
The surging emotions were completely suppressed, transforming into a frozen lake.
His senses were no longer confined to this body, but extended silently outwards along the invisible, pervasive mist that was connected to his will.
Fog is his eyes and ears, his antennae.
At this moment, the drama unfolding throughout the camp is being fed back in the form of silent "images" and magical "ripples".
The first to sense it were the Death Eaters.
The masked figures were not completely thrown into panic by the fog.
Conversely, in some areas, they appear to become more manic and destructive.
Small groups moved through the fog, their targets clearly defined: tents yet to be ignited, and vulnerable structures.
And wizard families who were separated from their families due to panic.
The light of the incantation flickered in the mist, igniting new sparks, shattering supports, and triggering more screams and fleeing. Like a swarm of enraged bees, they lacked unified command but instinctively expanded the ripples of destruction in the chaos. The scale seemed even larger than expected; it appeared that Nott and his men's underground operations over the past few years had indeed recruited and awakened many old ghosts.
Immediately afterwards, he sensed another, more concealed and orderly flow.
Those were people of the First Order.
They are like true shadows in the fog, more adept at manipulating this veil of chaos than the Death Eaters.
Lynch's "vision" captured the scene in the fog:
At the border between the Irish and Bulgarian supporter camps, the tents set ablaze by Death Eaters were ablaze, and some drunken men and radical fans, still unaware of the situation, glared angrily and hurled insults. In the mist, several figures, almost blending into the background, moved swiftly. They weren't fighting the fire, but rather "controlling" its spread. A precise gust of wind silently deflected a spark drifting towards a pile of flammable flags; a brief, localized "fire and water impervious" spell was cast on the curtain of a tent inhabited by the elderly and children, while the adjacent, unoccupied pile of debris was deliberately ignored, left to be consumed by the flames, creating a more horrifying visual effect and thicker smoke.
At the entrance to a passageway crowded with panicked people, several tents were set ablaze, the fire spreading and blocking the main evacuation route. A few Death Eaters grinned in the distance as they unleashed new fire spells. In the mist, several silent, faint yet precise "Water as Spring" and "Freeze-Fire" spells shot out from extremely tricky angles, cleverly containing the most intense fire and the most likely point of stampede in the Death Eaters' blind spots. Simultaneously, a barely perceptible, guiding breeze quietly swept past the edge of the crowd, "pushing" a portion of the panicked flow towards a narrow but safe gap to the side.
He also "saw" a young witch, separated from her family and sobbing softly, being gently led by a figure wearing an ordinary hood and with an indistinct face to the shadow of a half-collapsed but structurally sturdy tent. The figure placed a warm stone, gleaming with a steady, faint light, whispered something quickly, and then silently disappeared into the mist, as if it had never been there. The girl's sobs gradually subsided, and she clutched the warm stone tightly, a hint of calm returning to her terrified eyes.
These operations were dispersed, covert, and efficient.
They don't perform on stage, but hide in the background, gently plucking the strings to make the chaotic music composed by the Death Eaters play louder and more jarringly, while always avoiding the notes that would break the strings completely and cause blood to splatter on the spot.
As his senses receded like the tide, Lin Qi opened his eyes.
He looked back at Lucius, who was lying on the ground, his gaze deep.
This figure, who has always been a representative of pure-blood wizards, finds his position and pitiful "role" even more delicate in this chaotic interplay of power struggles and hidden agendas.
"Get up, Mr. Malfoy." Lynch's voice regained its penetrating calmness, devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable weight.
Lucius trembled slightly, almost unable to believe his ears.
He hesitated for a moment before bracing himself with his hands and standing up, looking somewhat disheveled but trying his best to maintain his composure. His expensive dragon-skin boots and suit trousers were covered in mud.
He still dared not raise his head fully, his gaze respectfully lowered to the ground.
"The information you brought is somewhat valuable," Lynch continued, his gaze seemingly sweeping over Lucius's head, looking deeper into the camp where the swirling mist and faint firelight still lingered. "Now, I need you to do something."