Kasenhis walked down the street, listening to Dumbledore explain the origins of the Statute of Secrecy.
In the 17th century, wizards were completely defeated by Muggles armed with pitchforks, steel blades, and single-shot firearms, shattering their once-proud arrogance and forcing them to implement the Statute of Secrecy.
This situation has continued into modern society.
What made it even more ridiculous was that wizarding progress slowed to a crawl, while Muggles entered an era of rapid technological advancement, widening the gap between the two worlds.
If in the past, wizards could have waged a prolonged war against Muggles but chose to retreat out of fear of casualties,
Then now, it was pure fear.
Except for a few inbred, brain-rotted pure-blood families who still deluded themselves with the idea that wizards were superior and that Muggles were nothing,
Even they only dared to throw their weight around within the wizarding world, or at most, bully a defenseless lone Muggle.
You never saw them marching into a military base to mess with Muggles—because bullets could pierce right through a wizard's Shield Charm and send them straight to meet Merlin.
Some quick-witted wizards had come up with two solutions:
First, the Muggle-Repelling Charm, which made Muggles suddenly remember something extremely important and turn away.
However, if Muggles en masse ever discovered the wizarding world, their most important thought would probably be launching guided missiles straight at Hogwarts.
Another idea was to use the Imperius Curse to control Muggle leaders, but Dumbledore, while acknowledging its ingenuity, also pointed out its major flaws.
First, while the Unforgivable Curses ban is about as effective as a leaky sieve—easy to bypass if you know where to look—actually using them was still incredibly difficult.
On top of that, the main combat force in the wizarding world today consisted of pure-bloods and Muggle-born wizards.
Pure-blood wizards had their combat skills drilled into them by their families, but they were also arrogant toward Muggle society and, most importantly—not the brightest in general.
Muggle-born wizards, on the other hand, grew up in a world where magic was something out of fairy tales, making them more prone to idolizing it.
Because of this, they saw magic as a tool to master, and were often more diligent in their studies.
But at the end of the day, they were still Muggle-borns—their mothers were Muggles, their neighbors were Muggles, their entire childhood was spent being doted on by Muggle parents and communities.
Why the hell would they ever side with the wizarding world in a war against Muggles, only to end up as second-class citizens after victory?
Then there were half-bloods and less fanatic pure-blood families.
For them, magic was something they were simply born with, like having a third arm—just another natural ability.
To them, Hogwarts wasn't a magical stronghold, but more like a combination of a gym, a math class, and a home economics course.
Without the strict magical training of pure-blood families, or the idolized view of magic held by Muggle-borns, their magical ability was often quite average—spending seven years at Hogwarts blending into the background.
After graduating, if they were a bit talented and good at talking, they might get a job at the Ministry.
If they were less fortunate, they'd be the type to sell tickets on the Knight Bus or push the snack trolley on the Hogwarts Express.
The most commonly used spells for them? Household cleaning charms and Alohomora—perfect for unlocking doors when someone else's hands got a little too sticky.
Outside of that? Their magic was basically just a flashlight and a floating grocery bag.
This was also the average skill level of most wizards in the Ministry of Magic—excluding professors, Aurors, and Hit Wizards.
Even Neville's Levitation Charm could probably drop them flat and make a paste. Strictly speaking, they weren't even as competent as Lockhart.
At least Lockhart was a true master of Memory Charms, having turned them into an art form.
And as for the fifth method—someone had actually tried it before.
The first wizard, clueless and naive, walked straight into Buckingham Palace, only to realize that England had been a constitutional monarchy for years.
Fortunately, the royal family was already aware of the wizarding world's existence, and—on top of that—Queen Elizabeth had been a bit tipsy that day.
So, his attempt failed spectacularly.
The second wizard, having done his research, headed straight for 10 Downing Street—the office of the Prime Minister.
However, the Prime Minister's secretary, after listening to him ramble on about bows, muskets, and knights, immediately realized what was going on.
Without even bothering to inform the Ministry of Magic, he quietly reached out to the British government's secretly recruited squad of Muggle-born wizards.
In no time at all, the second wizard was swiftly eliminated.
The third wizard, having learned from the failures of his predecessors, went in with a full plan—
After casting the Imperius Curse, he immediately started issuing commands about nuclear bombs, missiles, armored divisions, and military deployment—all aimed at France.
France, of all places.
What had France even done wrong this time? Sure, they were historical rivals, but still…
Of course, that order had to go through several layers of approval, and as soon as the Cabinet ministers reviewed it, they instantly realized that the Prime Minister had once again been placed under Imperius.
The Muggle-born wizard unit was deployed once more.
The third wizard was swiftly eliminated.
After those three failed attempts, wizards basically gave up on this kind of nonsense.
After all, controlling the Prime Minister alone wasn't enough—if they really wanted to take over a government, even if they rounded up every single pure-blood wizard, it still wouldn't be enough.
So they just accepted reality—it wasn't like they couldn't survive under the Statute of Secrecy.
At least, until Grindelwald the revolutionary and Voldemort the lunatic came along....
"So, after hearing all that, what are your thoughts?" Dumbledore asked.
"The Statute of Secrecy has done more harm than good..." Kasenhis replied.
For the first time, Dumbledore's face actually paled a little. "Ahem, well, you can't say that. The Statute of Secrecy did protect the wizarding race. If not for it, official records show that by the 17th century, there were barely over three thousand wizards left."
"As for abolishing the Statute now, that's even less of an option. In the 17th century, wizards had a common enemy in Muggles and were united in survival.
But modern Muggle-borns are the prized children of Muggle secret agencies and nobodies in the wizarding world.
If the Statute collapsed now, wizards themselves would split apart first, and the only possible outcome would be absolute destruction…"
Dumbledore rushed through his explanation, trying to stamp out any dangerous ideas brewing in Kasenhis's mind.
"…What if—and I'm just saying if.. What if I let magic bloom in the soul of every single person?"
Kasenhis suddenly said.
"!!"
Dumbledore suddenly stopped walking, and Kasenhis looked at him in confusion.
"…This would require a process. If you restore sight to someone who has been blind since birth, they won't immediately marvel at the beauty of vision—they'll be terrified," Dumbledore quickly recovered and hurried to explain.
"…A process?" Kasenhis murmured.
"Stop overthinking it… we're here. Downing Street. The Prime Minister's office… let's go in."
Dumbledore pulled Kasenhis into a narrow alleyway, and in the blink of an eye, they appeared inside the Prime Minister's office at 10 Downing Street.
"I don't think Fudge made an appointment with me... Please take a seat."
The Prime Minister looked at the unexpected visitors with clear awkwardness, putting down his pen and motioning toward the seats across his desk.
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