Chapter 315

The old knight was eagerly looking forward to this Christmas, especially since he had a string of glorious, age-defying stories to impress the children with. While the servants at Downton were cleaning and decorating the rooms, Sir Crowley used this rare moment of reunion to recount his experiences in Albania.

"The former leader of Albania was named Hozha, a leader of considerable skill, wisdom, resolve, and charisma—in fact, today's Aliya is merely imitating his policies without originality." The old knight's expression turned slightly wistful. "Aliya struggles to hold things together. When I went there, their situation—how to put it? was still somewhat chaotic."

"Aliya's leadership is unstable; he lacks Hozha's charm and cunning, so he sought allies—and chose the Ministry of Magic. I must say, this all began with Yanayev's precedent." The old knight now seemed thoroughly familiar with the magical world, though he still viewed matters purely from a Muggle standpoint. "With the Ministry's backing, his thinking broadened considerably, and he creatively proposed using wizards to counter nuclear deterrence."

"What?" Harry hadn't expected Albania to be so radical on this issue.

"The founding of Gilmnes undoubtedly gave him great help—not only expanding domestic wizarding strength, but also helping him seize complete control over domestic politics." The old knight said. "He then creatively proposed the concept of total national defense, attempting to link the magical energy of Hozha's remaining bunkers to create a nationwide nuclear defense system."

"The Grimmauld Wall was one such attempt." The old knight revealed the original purpose of the project in a single sentence.

"So if the Grimmauld Wall succeeds, Aliya plans to build a massive magical defense array across all of Albania? One capable of defending against nuclear bombs?" Harry thought the idea was utterly insane—but he also admitted it was deeply appealing.

"No, this array can only block radiation—even so, it lets through much of the shockwave." The old knight said. "But it still greatly eases the pressure."

From a magical standpoint, Gilmnes—thanks to the TARDIS's spatial technology—could now defy nuclear deterrence entirely. Harry couldn't help but marvel: Ollivander had truly preserved the Doctor's most precious legacy.

"Of course, these are only the things he was willing to tell an outsider like me—who knows what secret plans he's hiding?" The old knight shrugged with a smile. "More importantly, he's loosened restrictions on foreign investment and allowed me to set up factories there."

"Wow." Harry exclaimed.

"I invested two hundred million pounds—this is a massive sum even for Downton—but I believe the Wolf Brand will become a treasured inheritance passed down through generations, not merely because it's reasonably profitable, but because it embodies a new kind of noble spirit: when it comes to money, we must continue to acknowledge the binding of rights and duties." The old knight suddenly grew serious. "I realized this long ago. If I were merely an ordinary old man studying law, I could only keep fighting for oppressed workers. But since I possess so much wealth, I should open factories myself and provide workers with positions where they are never mistreated."

"Unfortunately, London's fierce commercial competition left me in a constant dilemma: if I wanted profit, I had to extend working hours—or else cut wages. That's why I say Albania is the place where I truly realized my ideal. Thanks to Aliya's policy incentives, the Wolf Brand became a truly ethical company—for both consumers and employees alike…"

As the old knight excitedly described his enterprise, Harry only then realized that the people involved in canning and food processing weren't just the werewolves of Gilmnes. Indeed, relying solely on those werewolves, the brand would never have reached Diagon Alley so quickly.

After Sir Crowley finished telling the story for the first time, whenever he recalled even a single additional detail, he immediately had to share it with Harry—or relive it again right before his eyes.

While Harry listened to the story, Sirius was watching television. Having lived his entire life in the magical world, he was deeply curious and utterly captivated by the new cable TV installed at Downton, while Ivy patiently explained every Muggle object and concept on the screen—while sternly silencing the servants who gossiped that the Night Lord was a country bumpkin.

On Christmas morning, Harry cheerfully began opening his gifts. The Weasleys sent him another sweater and some magical sweets; Neville gave him a jar of pickled beans; Hermione gave him a notebook; Zhang Qiu gave him a bronze bell that induced pleasant dreams. Notably, Cedric also sent him a gift: a pair of reflective mirrors designed to attach to a broomstick, adjustable for better use on the pitch—though the Quidditch League seemed to be discussing banning them.

Sirius and Lupin gave him a set of books on Dark Magic, which greatly helped him understand Grindelwald's notes—though Harry had no intention of delving deeply into Dark Magic for a long time. As he flipped through the small gifts from Order members, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his finger.

It was a wallet with fangs from Hagrid.

Harry felt a pang of sadness. Once, he had seen Hagrid as a rare giant friend—but now he had quietly categorized him among "those useless members of the Order." Harry touched his face, pulled out Hagrid's gift, placed it among the other presents, and told himself he'd have another proper afternoon tea with Hagrid when he returned.

He hadn't finished opening all the gifts when two sharp cracks sounded outside the window—it was Fred and George.

"Harry, look—we've got two more huge boxes of Weasley fireworks just for you." They hoisted two massive crates. "You deserve it, mate!"

"How many fireworks have you already given me?" Harry said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "I'm afraid they'll blow this place up."

"Don't worry—without magical input, they can't be activated…"

The moment they set the crates down, a piercing screech erupted from the pile of gifts. Harry gritted his teeth and rummaged through them—he found it was the Mirror of Cresset, which had apparently mistaken the fireworks for hazardous items.

"Oh dear." The twins looked embarrassed.

"These fireworks must be banned," Harry sighed. "That's why you're hiding them with me."

"It's not our fault—why else would the Ministry have issued new rules?" George complained. "Now they classify any Muggle item with greater destructive power than a Stunner as a weapon—"

"But these aren't ordinary Muggle fireworks—we've enchanted them to be prettier… and more powerful." Fred said, sounding slightly guilty. "But they're still magical items."

"The person who made this rule clearly understands Muggle items well," Harry suddenly realized. "And understands the Weasleys even better."

The brothers couldn't help laughing. After a few more words, they vanished with two sharp cracks.

As Harry finished tidying up and prepared to go downstairs for breakfast, he noticed Sir Crowley had just hung up the phone.

"What's wrong?" Harry noticed Sir Crowley looked puzzled, as if holding back something. "Who did you just speak with?"

"A political friend told me the Prime Minister plans to replace the new Defense Minister. Strange—why pick right before Christmas?"

"Maybe he's just leaking rumors to test public reaction?" Harry guessed.

"If there's too much opposition, he'll back down? No—I heard party insiders pleaded with him in vain. The Prime Minister is determined to do this regardless."

"So replacing the minister is a done deal—only the timing of the new minister's appointment remains uncertain?"

"Something like that. And we've never heard of this man—Restrade…"

The television suddenly fell silent.

"Say that again—what's the name of the new Muggle Defense Minister?"

"Not officially appointed yet, but according to rumors, it's a man named Gregor Restrade." Sir Crowley frowned. "Even if he's not that useless detective, Restrade is clearly a French surname—how can we allow someone like this to become Defense Minister?"

"Calling him useless is unfair—he was once Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Sirius said calmly. "If they're planning to announce this after Christmas… why would Restrade be transferred to the Muggle world as Defense Minister?"

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement—is that a position in the Ministry of Magic?" Sir Crowley removed his glasses.

"Yes—it's second only to the Minister."

"Does he oversee the wizarding military?"

"You could say that—he's the superior of the Head of the Auror Office."

Sir Crowley slowly sat down at the table. After a long silence, he looked up and said: "Perhaps we, too, must follow Albania's example and integrate wizarding forces into the national defense system."

"Albania already does that—the Defense Minister is a wizard, so he can command both wizarding and Muggle forces without violating the Statute of Secrecy." Sir Crowley frowned again. "But our nuclear deterrence system is working fine, isn't it?"

"But we don't even have enough wizarding forces—and even if we did, they wouldn't obey the Ministry's orders." Sirius added. "The wizarding world is in a cold war: two factions, mutually hostile, with their enlightened members trying desperately to avoid open conflict."

"Then I still don't understand what's going on." Sir Crowley sighed, standing up. "Anyway, this country already has more than enough inexplicable things—this one more won't hurt."