Chapter 686: Chaos - (1)
Chapter 686: Chaos
Exiting a café near the Place de la Bastille in Paris, Amandina Zoe and her colleague paid their bill and stepped outside, only to be surprised by the crowd of pedestrians all gazing in the direction of the southern bank of the Seine.
"What are they looking at?" her colleague asked, puzzled.
Amandina Zoe remained silent, tilting her head upward. Her gaze landed first on the Eiffel Tower several kiloters away, everything appearing normal, as if nothing had happened. Then she caught sight of six or seven small black dots. Were they so kind of birds? But she quickly dismissed that thought when she noticed two of the dots suspended motionless in mid-air. What kind of bird could do that?
In the blink of an eye, one of the stationary dots suddenly spread its wings—Amandina Zoe found it odd because it only extended its left wing—and the next mont, a massive green sign hung in the sky, lingering like frozen fireworks.
Distant cries of astonishnt reached their ears.
"It's people!" her colleague exclaid, grabbing her arm tightly. "Oh my god! Look—Amandina, is this so sort of large-scale outdoor magic? Can we invite them? How did they do that? With wires, cables, reinforced glass?"
"I don't think so," Amandina Zoe said softly.
In the few seconds they spoke, the six or seven dots suddenly dispersed, rapidly darting in all directions. One of the black dots happened to approach them, becoming clearer and clearer until they could make out the black robes the person was wearing.
"What is he riding on? So sort of aircraft?" soone nearby asked.
"It's a broomstick! It's witchcraft!" a scruffy-looking man with sparse hair shouted.
It seed like the person flying above them heard the remark. He turned back, hovering in mid-air, and looked down at the Muggles on the street below. With a wave of his arm, Amandina Zoe saw him holding a small wooden stick, and a flash of white light shot out.
The scruffy-haired man floated uncontrollably into the air, screaming and struggling.
"This is magic!" the man on the broomstick cackled.
Amandina Zoe's expression was dazed. A vague mory surfaced in her mind, back when she was in school, hearing a handso boy earnestly ask the teacher in class, "What if magic really existed in reality?"
Now, magic had indeed appeared!
...
United States, New York.
Fran??ois Crutoy walked along the famous Broadway, the hub of Arican theater and musicals. He had been invited to perform here, but the show was scheduled for tomorrow, so after facing the press, he slipped away alone for so fresh air.
Without a doubt, his miraculous experience was once again dredged up by the journalists for questioning, but as always, he remained tight-lipped, treating the events at the 'House of Magic' in Surrey as his own secret. However, over the years, he had been gathering information on the occult. His belief was: if the person who cured his arm wasn't a 'god', then there must be a group of humans with special abilities in this world.
After much contemplation, Fran??ois Crutoy concluded that the latter possibility was more likely because the person who healed him later appeared at his concert—real gods wouldn't be that idle, right?
Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to speak, nor did he know if that person had understood the aning behind his compositions.
Angel of Sorrow... Goddess of Magic... Fran??ois Crutoy didn't know where the power that healed him ca from. It could be from religion or the magic of wizards. He had read in many fantasy novels that wizards worshipped the Goddess of Magic...
Unintentionally, he found himself in the Manhattan area, standing in front of the Woolworth Building. The local staff recomnded to him so of the more well-known buildings nearby, including this skyscraper which held a significant place on the list.
Fran??ois had heard of it before. The Woolworth Building, erected in the early part of the century, stood as the tallest building in the world at the ti, shrouded in legend. Apart from its height, its Neo-Gothic style added to its aesthetic value. Lost in thought, Fran??ois noticed a group of n dressed in black erging from the revolving doors. ??????о??Ё??
Fran??ois glanced at them in surprise; he had been too absorbed by the grand revolving doors to notice the small one. The n hurried past, their expressions solemn, the leader issuing stern commands.
Fran??ois turned away from them, ears perked up, catching fragnts of their conversation: "...abnormal exposure of the magical world... likely related to Grindelwald... off to England for the funeral... authorization granted for use of force if necessary..."
Curiosity piqued, Fran??ois turned back, did he hear ntion of magic? Excitent bubbled within him as he hurried to catch up with the group. However, he dared not get too close, trailing behind at a distance as they veered into the gap between two buildings. Fran??ois quickened his pace, catching sight of the last man pulling out a small wooden stick from his suit pocket.
A wand? Fran??ois thought eagerly, though it seed smaller than what he had seen in comic books...
Taking a few deep breaths at the edge of the building, Fran??ois pondered how to introduce himself. How about starting with "I know a friend who can do magic"? Feeling prepared, he dashed into the shadows.
Looking around bewilderedly, Fran??ois found the n had vanished. Surveying the area, all he saw were a dozen or so crooked bicycles. Refusing to believe it, he retraced his steps, but nothing happened. He found himself back on Broadway.
The street teed with people, none of whom he sought. Little did he know, not far from there, at the intersection of West 42nd Street and Broadway in Tis Square, a wizard battle was about to unfold.
anwhile, in London...
Mr. Granger was at his dental clinic as usual, with Mrs. Granger helping out. Just as they bid farewell to a patient, Mrs. Granger turned on the clinic's TV, engaging her husband in conversation.
"Hermione's coming back today. We better close up early," Mrs. Granger said.
"I rember. I've booked your favorite restaurant," Mr. Granger replied, washing his hands. Suddenly, Mrs. Granger let out a scream, and he rushed out, hands dripping with water.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
Mrs. Granger stared at the TV, speechless. Mr. Granger looked at the screen, where the cara shook uncontrollably, capturing only half of the female reporter's head, her exaggerated blond curls. Yet, Mr. Granger's attention was drawn to the tornado behind her.
If not for the prominent backdrop of the parliant building, he wouldn't have realized the disaster was unfolding in London. He glanced uncertainly out the window; the weather was surprisingly calm, devoid of any wind. Urgent voices ca from the TV—
"Rita! Look, there are people in the tornado—did you see that? And those two blokes who flew past on brooms earlier?"
"Don't need you to remind !" the reporter snapped angrily, then took a deep breath to calm herself before addressing the cara. "Ladies and gentlen—though it seems unbelievable, a tornado has suddenly appeared in the heart of London. Um— the cause is still unclear; perhaps it's due to the drastic temperature fluctuations in recent days? We believe teorologists will provide a reasonable explanation. Please refrain from believing rumors—oh, rlin's beard!"
The reporter exclaid in panic. But Mr. Granger couldn't bla her for the slip of her tongue; anyone would be terrified— a young man suddenly squeezed out of thin air, and the screen went black montarily, leaving the Grangers to only hear voices.
"Hey, careful there. Need any help?"
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