13

Eli and Arthur's phone improvement project is going well during the time when the two friends go from a cold war to a good one. Although Arthur can't fully understand the mutual interference of magnetic fields, fortunately, not understanding the theory does not mean that it cannot be modified. There are always many ways to magic.

During the refit, Arthur and Eli communicated very frequently - almost maintained the frequency of one letter a day, sometimes even two a day. In the evening, when Arthur had any new problems, he would send the first letter of the day. Two letters to him. This is also impossible. Eli stays at Hogwarts and has not yet reached the grade to go to Hogsmeade, so he can only communicate with owls. The connection between Arthur and Mr. Smith is much smoother than this - they can call each other, and Arthur can go directly to Smith's house through Floo powder.

Unfortunately, when it comes to the direction of magic and Muggle modification, Mr. Smith is helpless. He has no understanding of magic at all. He can only provide more detailed drawings and explain the mechanical function of each part to Arthur as clearly as possible. It was also a difficult challenge for him, a professor of literature and history, who often had to work late with Arthur.

Mrs. Smith was still quite critical about this - the men were a little too self-absorbed in their discussions. They often had to study enthusiastically until eleven or twelve o'clock. place.

But her mind soon changed. When Arthur's sociable wife Molly Weasley found that she could not dissuade her husband from disturbing others, she decided to hold a dinner at home to entertain the Smiths to express her apology and gratitude.

Mrs. Smith saw a beautiful, mischievous, lively little baby in the crooked burrow of the house.

"It's so cute, isn't his name Bill?" Mrs Smith picked up the baby Bill and stared at him with great interest. "Is he smiling at the goblins that were thrown away in the garden? It's so quirky— - Much more lively than when Eli was a child, he didn't even cry much at that time, he only called me when he was hungry and wanted to go to the toilet, so cute, I was still a little lost."

Bill blinked energetically. Although it was impossible to understand what the person holding him was saying, he took the initiative to wave his short arms, casually touched Mrs. Smith's face, and softly pushed him curiously. Pushed and laughed to himself.

Mrs. Smith was in a good mood: "See, he likes me, Molly!"

Obviously, two-year-old Bill Weasley easily got her favor.

Molly brought out a plate of baked pudding from the kitchen, and walked over nervously: "Sorry, Bill is a little too lively... He didn't make you embarrassed, did he, cousin Linda?"

"There's no need to call me that, we've all been expelled from the family, right? Just call me Linda." Mrs Smith waved her hand to indicate that she didn't mind, and said with great interest, "My next novel is going to be about the domineering wizard and his After running away from the little Muggle wife, after a night of romance, Miss Muggle fled in a hurry, but she was pregnant with Mr. Wizard's child. It was not until five years later that Mr. Wizard and Miss Muggle met again by chance. , Miss Muggle is holding a bright, lively child who is exactly the same as Mr. Wizard... Bill is an inspiration to me, thank you so much, Molly."

Mr. Smith and Molly, who heard this, were surprised at the same time.

Mr. Smith couldn't help but ask: "My dear, you told me before that most wizards value the inheritance of blood, and they have their own ways to keep the blood pure and not have illegitimate children..."

No one paid any attention to his reasonable doubts, Molly covered her mouth excitedly, looked at Mrs. Smith in disbelief, and was full of surprise: "Really? Bill has such an honor! I really like your book, Lynn. Da, how lucky this child is!"

"I still want to be this child's godmother, if he doesn't already?" Mrs. Smith said with a big smile.

This was completely beyond Molly's expectations. Not only did she agree immediately, but she also excitedly chatted with Linda about the plot design of her new book for ten minutes, until the screech of the pot in the kitchen reminded her to lift the lid and take a look. Reluctantly left.

These things Eli learned from a letter sent the next day from home. Mrs. Smith told him that he had an extra godson and that he would take care of Bill more in the future.

Eli doesn't have a problem with this (and it's not his turn to have an opinion), and he and Arthur are now stuck with a critical issue.

Muggle objects are not encouraged in the wizarding world.

The conflict between wizards and Muggles dates back to the Middle Ages, when the international Code of wizarding secrecy was introduced and wizards completely hid themselves. The result of this concealment is a closed interior. After all these years, during which Muggles have experienced two industrial revolutions, including the electric light, telephone, bicycle ride, and airplane, wizarding lives seem to have been left in the Middle Ages, with many old habits deeply ingrained.

"I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefact Department at the Ministry of Magic," said Harry. Arthur told Eli uneasily in his letter. "Random magical modifications on Muggle objects are forbidden in this department, although the original intention is to prevent their re-introduction into Muggle society and causing problems... Anyway, a lot of people in the Ministry are far too conservative at the moment, and I'm afraid they won't accept the promotion of magic phones, but we need permission."

It's a real struggle. After a long period of confusion, the two men came to the conclusion once again that the promotion of magic telephones was completely absurd without changing wizards' attitudes towards Muggle objects.

But how exactly do you change people's perceptions? Eli thought for a long time, and finally made up his mind. He spread out a piece of parchment, and after a long pause with his quill, he decided to write the first line.

On the amazing conveniences that the Proper Use of Muggle Objects can bring to a wizard's Life.

Although his mother urged him to be discreet in school and not to express superfluous opinions, Eli felt that this was clearly not an opt-out situation, and that it was necessary to stand up -- Eli actually discovered that when you do decide to do something, it becomes clear what you need to do.

Eli's article was published in the Daily Prophet.

This was actually a bit of a surprise to Eli, who had been expecting to be rejected when he submitted his article, but was simply trying to establish initial contact with the paper's editor and ask about other sources of publication -- the kind that would cost a bit of money, which Eli found acceptable.

But he did not expect to see the response he received from the editors on the third day of his submission -- they had taken a quarter of the paper and printed a truncated version of his article, mangling its idea and central argument beyond recognition into a pale-faced, whimsical example of pro-Muggle stupidity, He then spent the remaining three-quarters of the book mocking and criticizing him.

- In this week's mail to the Daily Prophet, we received a particularly ludicrous pro-Muggle claim, whimsical enough to be worthy of being shared as a newspaper joke. We are publishing it in full. We can see that some wizards have unrealistic visions of Muggles, not only treating stupid, weak Muggles as their own kind, but even trying to persuade all wizards to use their stuff together -- how ridiculous! We noticed that the submission had even been sent from Hogwarts, and that the author was even a student. What on earth was Dumbledore doing in the school, the newspaper asks, encouraging students to say stupid things to bring the school into disrepute? Was he too senile to continue as Headmaster of Hogwarts? What is certain is that we cannot continue to let Dumbledore bring this atmosphere to the school, which is destroying our precious next generation!

In the early morning noise of the Hogwarts Great Hall, Eli sat frozen, newspaper in hand, unable to return to his senses.

He had not expected to face such a situation at all -- he thought that after he sent out the article, there might be some people for it, maybe more against it, and he was not afraid of that. He is clear in his thinking and determined in his purpose, and he can demolish every argument for conformism, trying to convince everyone who listens that it is a long way to go before the trend catches on and then the whole population changes.

But it had never occurred to him that he would not even be able to make his own voice heard -- that the newspaper would manipulate the contributions of its contributors and put them up for comment and ridicule, that it would stage a play of its own, and that the point of attack would penetrate him and then be directed at Dumbledore.

Who does this newspaper, the mouthpiece of the British wizarding community, speak for? Eli had an uncontrolled cold war.

He was not the only student who had subscribed to the Daily Prophet. Soon, one after another began to look around curiously and vacantly.

"A student from my school? How dare he? He's still learning. What can he write at a high level? It's normal to be laughed at."

"Eli Smith, I've heard of him, first-year Gryffindor, they say he's as clever as Ravenclaw."

"So the sorting Hat didn't make a mistake, did it? He doesn't have a Ravenclaw mind, but this recklessness is pure Gryffindor, and people in that house do stupid things like that all the time."

"The papers said that about Dumbledore..."

"That's right, isn't it? If he hadn't been senile, he wouldn't have allowed his students to submit such articles. I think three hundred points should be taken from Gryffindor, to make up for the damage done to Hogwarts' reputation."

Eli, deaf to the chatter on the long table, slowly turned his head to the very center of the teacher's table.

Dumbledore was not there; he was staring at the empty seat, overwhelmed by the flood of guilt and embarrassment.

Dumbledore was away from school for the next few days. The closed space of the school was insulated from most of the elements of the outside world, but it was also a small society that could faithfully reflect some real things, especially in Dumbledore's absence.

The professors didn't take Gryffindor's share, but almost every one of them looked at him with mixed looks and stopped talking. Among the students, it was even more obvious. Eli, who had always been one of the most popular people in the past, felt isolated for the first time.

Fortunately, even though everyone looked at him strangely, no one, not even the Slytherins, came face-to-face to give him any trouble, which probably had something to do with the fact that his mother was a famous best-selling author. Eli passed them in silence, all looking at him, avoiding him at a distance, not communicating with him at all, not believing anything he said, only with a strange look of deserved or pity in his eyes.

Eli has been alone lately, and it's not that he doesn't have friends on his side. Lily, at least, is firmly on his side, dismissing his ideas as a lack of evidence. James, on the other hand, thought he was so courageous that he looked upon him as some sort of defiant hero, having recently met him with exaggerated enthusiasm (how did you even think of writing to a newspaper! Great, I'm going to try it! . Even Snape had remained silent amid the taunts of Slytherin, and there seemed to be some special understanding between them that made it easy for them not to try to intervene or persuade each other when they disagreed.

Eli appreciates the kindness of his friends, but he doesn't even have much contact with them these days. He knew very well that he was in a situation where innocent people were likely to suffer, and he had already compromised Dumbledore and did not want that to happen again.

But he was only now discovering that walking in the shadows, away from people, was a little cold.

Eli pressed against the wall by the window. He had just finished class, and he was going straight to the library, where he would be judged at lunchtime, going the wrong way with the army, quietly passing small groups of students, many eyes following him.

He left it at that and kept walking up until he came to the empty corridor on the eighth floor, but he could not help himself and sighed softly, softly.

Spring had arrived in Scotland, and the sun was warm outside, but there was no temperature to warm him. He stood in front of the window and turned his face a little to look out at the spring light. Half of his face was lit up, and at last there was an unmistakable dimness in his eyes.

Instead of going on to the library, he spent a long time at the window. Until something came closer and closer -- Eli realized it was an owl flying straight toward him, clutching the letter in its claws.

Lily's owl. Eli's heart gave a sudden jump and he stood still, watching the owl fly through the open window and drop the letter. Not a very heavy letter, carrying the wind in, like a falling feather.

Eli looked startled for a moment as he raised his hand to catch it and read the name on the envelope. He opened the letter and the familiar writing appeared before him.

-Eli:

-Lily wrote to me and told me about the situation you're facing. I can't believe you didn't say anything in your last letter. I asked Lily's owl to wait for me a little longer, so that I could write a reply and send it off at once, to you as soon as possible -- I wondered if he would understand me, I had repeatedly told him, hoping that magical owls were smarter than I thought.

- I'm angry now, very angry -- those stupid wizards with no sense at all! Muggle society was as different a hundred years ago as it is now. With all the advances in technology, the wizarding world has managed to remain unchanged for thousands of years, even priding itself on being pedantic and inflexible! This is beyond reason! But I know you're not like them, Eli, and you're always the right one.

- Yes, you must be on the right track, not from blind assertions of ignorance, but because I know you well enough. I know what you're trying to do is good, I know you're not doing it on a whim, and I know you definitely don't deserve what's happening to you. I know this must be hard, but if you think it's right, you don't need to worry about it. The truth is always in the hands of the few.

-Frankly, I feel strongly powerless that you didn't choose to tell me this in the first place. Your time at Hogwarts, with all the magic you face every day, is nothing like the routine routine of my life. You have a thread in your hand, when you choose to loosen your hand, you and your world are so far away from me. But this disappointment is not with you, it is with me -- I know very well that I can not intervene in anything, I am not even qualified to defend you. I know you don't need my meaningless support, but I want to say that I know you better than the newspaper slurs, I know what you are like, I believe in you, and I believe that you are doing the right thing and will succeed in the end.

- Sincere wishes, distant support, and unwavering trust from your distant friend Penny.

Eli held the paper, his eyes fixed on it. You could see that Petunia was writing in a hurry, and the letters were falling over one another. He looked at it for a long time and felt something slowly coming back to him, feeling come back to life as if they had been awakened from a dream, and the spring sun, belatedly real, falling on him, warming him from the inside out.