Harry started and looked toward the voice.
A little girl was huddled under the table, wrapped in an overcoat. Trembling, she held out a bottle.
It was Dittany White Medicine, a remedy with miraculous effects on external wounds!
Harry brightened and hurried to take the bottle.
But Hermione snatched it away first.
Steeling herself, she pulled the stone shard out with force.
As blood gushed out, a layer of white powder covered the wound.
Gradually, the bleeding stopped.
At least the blood had been staunched for now.
Feeling Ron's faint breathing, Hermione slumped to the floor and set the bottle down.
The little girl glanced cautiously at the bottle. Seeing that it had all been used up, she looked as though she was about to cry.
Harry picked up the bottle and handed it back to her.
"Don't worry. We'll pay you back."
The little girl panicked a little and instinctively took the bottle.
But dark red blood trickled down from her hand, carrying a foul stench.
Harry frowned, took her hand, and pushed up her oversized sleeve. What he saw made this man, who had spent decades in battle, suck in a sharp breath.
The skin over the girl's entire forearm had rotted into a festering mess, and it was still eating into the flesh beneath, turning it into pus.
"It hurts."
The sleeve seemed to have brushed the wound. The little girl bit her teeth together, tears welling in her eyes.
Seeing a child so much younger than his own daughter enduring such pain, Harry could hardly breathe.
"What happened?"
The girl sobbed twice.
"There was an explosion at the magic factory. Dad was killed, and my hand touched something. It's been rotting ever since. Only this Dittany White Medicine can make it better for a little while."
Harry's brow tightened at once. "Didn't they pay compensation?"
"They did, but not much. After I used the medicine for three years, the money ran out. Mum worked to earn money for the medicine, but she lost her job last month, so there wasn't enough to buy more…"
The girl lowered her arm. Tears mixed with the corroded blood and pus, dripping all the way onto the floor.
And that empty bottle had been her last bottle of medicine.
"Bastards!"
Harry slammed his fist into the floor with a dull thud.
Malfoy and Hermione came over to look, and both frowned.
"These are traces of dark magic mixed into the wound. She needs targeted treatment at a magical hospital."
"It is forbidden to use dark magic to make or manufacture any product without authorization," Hermione said gravely.
"Hah. Authorization."
Harry scoffed, the contempt in his voice so clear that even Malfoy glanced at him.
"Without oversight, authorization is just a piece of wastepaper."
"Then we establish oversight!" Hermione insisted.
Harry met her gaze without fear and pointed outside.
"Hah. Of course the Prime Minister sitting in Downing Street can say that so easily. But do you know how big Britain is? Do you know how big the whole world is? Do you know how much evil is hidden inside those gleaming towers?"
Hermione's breath caught, but her expression remained firm.
"Then we keep going. Every bit longer we hold on means one fewer tragedy like this!"
"What about her, then."
"All right, all right, you two. Instead of arguing here, why don't we figure out how to get out first? At least let Weasley receive proper treatment."
Even Malfoy had not expected the day would come when he had to play mediator, and for Harry of all people, his old rival.
He hurriedly crouched down, looking at the little girl while taking out his phone.
"Do you know where this is? A street or village name would be best."
"Pro... Providenceburg," the girl said timidly.
"Er, which country is that?"
"Canada."
"Well, that's far enough."
Malfoy sent the message.
After a short wait, someone knocked on the door.
Malfoy opened it at once.
Percy stood outside with a solemn expression, an entire strike team behind him.
He was now the President of the Wizarding Confederation. Years of nonstop work had turned his temples gray, and he looked extremely authoritative.
"The situation is very serious right now. Wait, what happened to you?"
He looked at the three of them, all battered and disheveled, then saw Ron lying on the sofa covered in blood and strode over.
"We were attacked," Malfoy said, patting his arm. "Whatever it is, let's get to the hospital first."
Percy's expression turned grave, and he nodded.
Soon, they were taken back to the Confederation Hospital in Zurich, along with the little girl.
After confirming that Ron was out of danger, Harry and the others went to visit the little girl.
Through the glass window, a Healer inside was carefully removing the dead flesh from the child's arm so targeted treatment could be applied.
Malfoy hesitated before speaking. "Come to think of it, that child's mother... she should be the woman whose device I took, shouldn't she? Can she still come back?"
"He... shouldn't go as far as attacking an ordinary woman, right?" Harry said, without confidence.
All three of their faces darkened. In their hearts, they already had the answer.
"We owe that child. If she's willing, I'll adopt her," Hermione finally decided.
Because of their guilt, the three of them fell into a brief silence.
"That person is absolutely not Professor Fawley. At least, not the professor we knew," Malfoy suddenly said.
The topic came abruptly.
But Harry and Hermione both agreed without hesitation.
The reason was simple.
"I never put blind faith in authority."
A professor who could say that to his followers would never use such an extreme and disrespectful method to win them over.
But that brought them no comfort at all.
An enemy whose power rivaled the professor's, and a hundred thousand human bombs that might go off at any moment, still pressed heavily on their hearts.
"By the way, what was Percy here to tell us?"
Harry scratched his head, feeling as though they had forgotten something.
The three exchanged glances, then suddenly realized. They hurried out of the hospital and rushed toward the Wizarding Confederation headquarters nearby.
As soon as they entered, a frantic young man ushered them into the emergency affairs office.
Inside the spacious office, an entire curved screen occupied almost a third of one wall.
A world map was displayed on it, and more than a dozen red dots were flashing across different regions.
Percy was in the middle of the crowd, surrounded by chaos.
"Attack on a street in New York! Three dead, over a hundred injured."
"The strike team has arrived in Rio de Janeiro and is fighting the criminal inside the city. Casualties unknown!"
"Three attacks have appeared in Samoa at the same time. Dispatch Strike Team Seventeen as reinforcements!"
Harry and the others found Percy.
"What's going on?"
"Cancel all leave for every strike team. Have them stand by at all times... What?"
In that short span, Percy had already become so busy that sweat was beading on his forehead.
"I'm asking, what exactly happened?"
"Attacks!"
Percy pointed at the map, raising his voice as much as possible to cut through the noise in the room.
"Starting two hours ago, serious magical attacks have been reported all over the world. We need to send support."
"In every case, an ordinary person inserted a bottle into themselves, then suddenly became able to cast highly destructive magic. Wandless magic, no less! Even though they can't survive more than half an hour, the destruction they cause is no weaker than that of any wizard!"
"Twenty attacks in one hour! Before this, we might not have seen one incident like this in an entire week!"
In the brief time he spoke, more and more red dots appeared on the map.
Percy felt almost suffocated by despair.
"What on earth is going on?"
Only then did Harry and the others understand. So the device had not been designed to cause explosions, but to provide ordinary people with magic and the ability to cast spells.
But understanding that now only made their worries worse.
With bitter expressions, they confessed what they had encountered underground.
Percy covered his face in pain, feeling as if his head were about to explode.
A few dozen attacks had already stretched them to the limit.
If there were a hundred thousand, would that not work every wizard in the world to death?
Harry and Malfoy collapsed into chairs, their minds racing so hard they nearly sparked, yet neither could think of a solution.
The office was clearly noisy, yet the atmosphere was as oppressive as a funeral.
A ceremony that might bury the entire wizarding world.
Hermione stared straight at the screen, hands on her hips.
Her heart was in chaos too, but reason forced her to stay calm.
"Calm down, Hermione. Think about what Professor Fawley would say..."
Almost instantly, her will steadied.
Hold on a little longer, even if only for a little while.
"We can't give up. Giving up is the same as failing!"
"There are only so many strike teams and Aurors from each country we can deploy. How could we possibly stop this many attacks?" Malfoy said helplessly.
"If we can't stop the attacks, then we make sure the attacks never happen!"
Hermione stared fixedly at the screen, her eyes bloodshot.
"For example, with one grand lie."