Over the camp at five o'clock in the morning, a thin white mist swept away with the wind like a light veil.

Clark and the others slept for only a few hours before they were woken up by Mr. Weasley.

"We've got to hurry, we're sure there's a lot of people in a minute."

He magically put the tent away in his backpack and left the camp in a hurry with Clark and the others.

On the way, they also saw Mr. Roberts standing at the door of his small stone house, waving goodbye to them in a trance, and muttering "Merry Christmas".

"He'll be fine," said Mr. Weasley as they strode toward the swamp, "and sometimes, when a man's memory is altered, he is momentarily confused...... Besides, what they wanted him to forget was such a big thing. ”

Still, they underestimated the impact of the Dark Mark, and even when they got up at five o'clock, they heard many people yelling eagerly there.

"Hey, I came first, hurry up and give me the doorkey!"

"Don't cut in line, okay?"

"Get out of here, this is my position, I'm going to chant a spell if I don't leave!"

“%@……&#@！ @**……”

Clark and the others saw that a large group of wizards surrounded Mr. Basil, the keeper of the portkey, clamoring to leave the camp as soon as possible.

Mr. Weasley stepped forward and consulted with Basil for a few words, and they all took up the line, and at last they received an old tire before the sun had even risen, and relied on it to return to Stoatt Mountain.

In the twilight of dawn, the Weasleys, Clarke, and the others walked through the village of Otrie-St. Cachpole along a wet path toward the Burrow.

Along the way, they were seldom willing to talk, because they were all tired and got up early, and all they wanted was to hurry home for breakfast, and then get some sleep.

However, when they turned a corner, and the Burrow appeared in front of them, there was a shout from the path not far away.

"Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness, you're finally back!"

Mrs. Weasley had apparently been waiting for them in the front yard when she ran towards them, wearing the slippers she wore in her bedroom.

Her face was very pale and her expression was very nervous, and the only reason she was like this was because she was holding a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand.

"Arthur - I'm so worried- I'm so worried—"

Mrs. Weasley threw her arms around her husband's neck, and The Daily Prophet slipped from her feeble hands to the ground.

Clark looked down and saw that the headline turned out to be: "Shocked! At the Quidditch World Cup, there was such a horrific scene", and at the bottom of the title, there is a glittering black-and-white photo of the Black Magic mark hanging from the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered in shock, letting go of her husband and looking at them one by one with a pair of red eyes, "you're all alive...... Oh, son...... It's so nice......"

To everyone's surprise, she grabbed Fred and George and hugged them fiercely.

Because of the force, the twins' heads "banged" together.

"Ouch! Mom-you're going to strangle us-"

"I'm yelling at you before you leave!"

Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but cry.

"I've been thinking about this! What if the mystery man took you away, and the last thing I said to you was that your .ls exam did not do well? Oh, Fred...... George ......"

Harry and Ron couldn't help but snicker as they snickered.

"Alright, alright, Molly, we're all safe."

Mr. Weasley comforted her, pulled a pair of twins out of her arms, and led her towards the house.

"Bill," he said, lowering his voice, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says......

They all squeezed into the small kitchen, and Hermione offered Mrs. Weasley a strong cup of tea with lots of sugar cubes to it.

But before it was served, Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a little Ogden Aged Spirits into it—

"Molly prefers wine to sugar." Mr. Weasley said with a wink, taking the teacup from Hermione's hand and placing it in front of Mrs. Weasley.

Then, Bill handed the newspaper to his father.

Mr. Weasley opened the newspaper and hurried through the first page, as Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it was going to be like this," Mr. Weasley said heavily, "and the Ministry of Magic panicked...... The offender was not caught...... Loose security...... The Dark Wizard is at large...... Bring shame on the country...... Who wrote this? Yes...... Naturally, it's her...... Rita Skeeter. ”

"That woman likes to go against the Ministry of Magic!" Percy said with some displeasure, "She said last week that we should have done our best to get rid of the vampires, but we spent a lot of energy trying to please the foreigners, saying it was a waste of time!" ”

As he spoke, he couldn't help but complain to Clark, "Anyway, aren't you a shareholder of the Daily Prophet, why can you tolerate such a nonsensical reporter in your newspaper?" ”

Clark spread his hands, "Because readers like it." ”

"In this world, dogs bite people are not news, people bite dogs are news.

Readers don't want to read those serious news, don't you know, Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart are the first and second best-selling authors every year.

She is the ace reporter of the "Daily Prophet", and the sales of the newspaper depend on her, and I am only one of the shareholders, but I don't have that much right to fire her. ”

Percy was speechless, but Clark didn't seem to be satisfied, and continued, "Actually, the key to this problem is not Rita Skeeter, but the Ministry of Magic. ”

"How is this still a problem for the Ministry of Magic?" Percy asked.

"How not? The citizens themselves have the right to speak, and the Ministry of Magic can't shut the mouths of the public!

What you need to do is to solve the problem of arrogance brought about by the huge volume, and to constantly supervise the public opinion environment of the people, respond quickly, and reply as soon as possible.

Instead of something going wrong, wait until public opinion ferments, and then come out to make up for it, which consumes the credibility of the Ministry of Magic itself.

Not only that, but I found that your Ministry of Magic still can't sink down in this kind of public opinion handling.

In the face of the doubts of the masses, you always have a natural sense of arrogance, thinking that you are an official and can ignore the opinions of the masses at the bottom.

That's not going to work......"

Clark's mouth kept talking, and Percy nodded repeatedly, seemingly agreeing with him.

"When you say that, the ministry does have this problem.

Perhaps I should write to the Minister and suggest the creation of a propaganda department to deal with public opinion. ”

"All right, Percy," said Bill, yawning, "you don't say any more. ”

"Mentioned me."

At this point, Mr. Weasley read the end of the Daily Prophet article, and his eyes suddenly widened behind the lenses.

"Where?" Mrs. Weasley choked on a sip of whiskey tea and coughed and asked, "If I had seen you, I would have known you were still alive!" ”

"The newspapers don't name names," Mr. Weasley said, "except that shortly after the Dark Mark appeared, a Ministry of Magic official appeared, claiming that no one was harmed, but refusing to reveal any more. ”

“…… It remains to be seen whether his words will be enough to quell the rumors that several bodies were brought out of the woods an hour later. ”

"Oh my God," Mr. Weasley said angrily, handing Percy the paper, "no one has been harmed. What should I say? Rumors of several bodies being carried out of the woods...... Well, now that she's writing something like that, it's bound to be a rumor. ”

"Maybe Clark is right, we do have to have our own propaganda department," he sighed deeply, "Molly, I need to go to the office, this matter needs to be clarified." ”

"I'll go with you, Daddy," Percy folded the newspaper as well, "Mr. Crouch must need everyone to take their places." ”

With that, he rushed out of the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley looked very sad. "Arthur, it stands to reason that you're on vacation! This has nothing to do with your office; They can handle it without you, can they? ”

"I must go, Molly," said Mr. Weasley, "I made things worse." I'm going to change into my robes and go......"

He and Percy took their coats, got up and went into the fireplace, disappearing into the turquoise flames.

As for the Clarks, none of this had anything to do with them, and after breakfast, they slept well, and the energetic Harry even had a Quidditch match in the orchard.

For the week that followed, Mr. Weasley and Percy were rarely home.

Every morning, before the family got up, the two of them left the house and did not return until long after dinner was ready.

"It's really a mess!"

It was a Sunday evening, and the next day they were going back to Hogwarts, and Percy sat at the table, telling them in a matter-of-fact manner.

"For a whole week, I felt like I was fighting a fire. People kept sending yelling letters complaining about the safety of the World Cup and asking us to compensate them for the damage to their finances.

But most of them want to fish in troubled waters.

Mundungus Fledge claimed a tent with twelve bedrooms and a jacuzzi, but I found out that he had actually spent the night under a cloak supported by sticks. ”

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the old clock in the corner, with nine golden needles on it, each engraved with the name of a Weasley family.

At this moment, all eight needles point to the position of "home" on the clock face, and only the one representing Mr. Weasley, the longest of the nine, still points to "work".

Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Since the day the mystery man lost power, your dad hasn't had to work overtime on weekends." "Now they're going to wear him out," she said. If he doesn't come back quickly, his dinner will be ruined. ”

She and Percy complained about the trouble Rita Skeeter had caused their family, and the rain outside was crashing against the living room window.

In the corner of the living room, Hermione sat on the couch, reading intently the Standard Spell, Level 4, and Mrs. Weasley bought a copy each for her, Harry, Clark, Neville, and Ron in Diagon Alley.

Charlie was knitting a fireproof hood, Harry was tending to his fire-bolts, and Neville was smearing his sword with oil and polishing it with fawn skin.

Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley asked, "By the way, why didn't Clark come down for lunch?" ”

The twins, who were writing things on the side, said without raising their heads, "He was resting in the room, saying that he had no appetite and didn't eat dinner." ”

"Well, you'll have to eat somewhat," Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but want to get up and call Clark down, but when she looked at the wall clock, she had to stop, "Oh, your dad is back!" ”

Mr. Weasley's needle suddenly jumped from "going to work" to "on the road", and after a clock, it trembled and stopped at the "home" position along with the other needles.

At this moment, everyone heard Mr. Weasley's shouting from the kitchen.

"Here it is, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley hurried out of the room.

A moment later, Mr. Weasley walked into the warm living room with his dinner on a tray.

"Alas, things are getting out of hand."

He sat in an armchair by the fireplace, listlessly fiddling with the cauliflower on his plate, looking exhausted.

"Rita Skeeter has been camping around all week, searching for more chaos to report on at the Ministry of Magic......"

While Mr. Weasley and his family were chatting about work, Clark was standing in front of an open window in the attic of the Burrow, looking out into the distance.

The dense raindrops crackled against the tiles above him, mixed with the howling and groaning of gusts of wind, causing the ghouls guarding the door to stir restlessly.

However, none of this seemed to affect Clark, his empty eyes focused on a certain point in the void, as if the whole person had been out of his body, and his consciousness was no longer here.

If you follow the direction he looks, through hills, mountains, and plains, and across rivers and oceans, you will arrive at a mysterious castle hidden in a mirrored shadow space.

And in this castle, our Clark (Crystal Servant) is doing the mental work for the wizards who were thrown into Azkaban for causing trouble at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Kneel down and offer your purest loyalty to your master!"

Dressed in blood-red robes, Clark (Crystal Servant) strolled through the prisons, spreading his glory under the horrified gaze of the wizards in the prisons.

With his demagogic voice, these originally terrified wizards gradually became dazed, like puppets with strings, and knelt down obediently one by one.

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