Moody's gaze flickered for a moment, then finally fixed on Kingsley, as he said in a muffled tone:
"I ran into Vid at the venue. When the incident happened… I felt he wasn't surprised at all."
"Not surprised…"
Kingsley closed his eyes for a second, and understood the intention behind this whole setup—
"To test the people present? Vid thinks that among those people there are some who are colluding with the Scourers? But doesn't he know…"
He paused, then said heavily: "…doesn't he know this is not some simple test at all! This is opening Pandora's Magic Box!"
"Hmph." Moody let out a cold snort. "It's not like there's only one clever person in the world! If there were no Vid, you think no one else would think of using… what's that… the power of the media like this?"
"When all's said and done, it's the American Magic World that nurtured a monster like the Scourers. Decades ago they had nothing, and they could still stand on the street handing out flyers; now that there are more convenient channels, you think they wouldn't consider how to use them?"
"If the Ministries of Magic in various countries were smart enough, they should instead learn from this 'prank,' and get their contingency plans and preventative measures in place! Instead of waiting until disaster truly strikes, only to find that it's already too late!"
At first Moody's tone still carried a touch of forced justification, but the more he spoke the more reasonable he felt he sounded, and his voice grew a few degrees louder.
Kingsley rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache, and said:
"But the American Magic Congress wasn't prepared—does that mean the British Ministry of Magic is prepared? When he noticed the crisis, he should have informed the Ministry of Magic so we could get ready, instead of using it to test one or two moles in the Magic Congress!"
Moody fell silent for a moment, and that Magic Eye of his stopped its frenzied spinning, fixing steadily on Kingsley.
In that instant, he suddenly became aware of the difference between the two of them.
Even though in their respective tenures they were both called "the finest Auror," yet…
Perhaps it was because he had been retired for many years, while Kingsley was currently in a key position;
Perhaps it was because he had been neighbors with the Grey Family for a long time, getting along well, whereas to them Kingsley was an unfamiliar stranger;
Or perhaps it was because of Moody's own habit of suspicion—mocked as a "madman" for many years, with many in the Ministry of Magic treating him as a joke, their eyes always tinged with ridicule;
Whereas Kingsley was heavily relied upon and respected: the last two Ministers of Ministry of Magic, as well as several candidates, all saw him as indispensable talent, and the younger Aurors followed his word without question;
All in all, when he heard Kingsley's criticism—which was entirely correct, possessed great strategic vision, and came from the standpoint of the Ministry of Magic…
Moody only felt a wave of discomfort in his chest.
In that moment, he understood that even though he was still willing to fight to the death for the safety of the Magic World, yet… some things, in the end, were no longer the same.
The scars on his face cast ferocious shadows under the light, and his voice carried a faint, indescribable depth.
"Since you're so worried, why don't you ask Vid yourself?"
He paused for a moment, then added: "After all… Pandora's Magic Box can only be shut by the one who opened it."
When they first arrived in the United States, Kingsley and Moody had reached a consensus—they would absolutely not take the initiative to contact Vid.
The Auror squad was a known quantity, under certain people's watchful eyes at all times. If they made contact rashly, those "eyes" fixed on them might notice Vid lurking in the dark.
Conversely, when Vid needed their help, it would be easy for him to find them, and there were no restrictions. Of course, Kingsley felt there was an understanding between them; they would not lightly break this mutually isolated state.
They were supposed to be two parallel lines that would never intersect; that was the safest way, and the most consistent with security protocols.
But now, with the lingering shock of "the Magic World being completely exposed" still echoing in his chest, Kingsley weighed it for a moment, then finally took out the Friendship Book.
[Kingsley: Why open the box?]
A moment later, a line of text flowed onto the page:
[Vid: Have you heard the story of 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'?]
…
Late at night, the main control hall of FMC's American Branch was still brightly lit.
It was not like the Ministry of Magic, full of flickering candlelight and fluttering parchment, nor were there paper airplanes streaking overhead with a whoosh.
In the very center of the hall was a massive curved main screen wall, divided into some twenty-odd sections of various sizes, constantly switching images, its surface flickering with snowflake-like specks of light.
The FMC staff all had the night off; in the vast hall, only a handful of people remained.
Supervisor Nelson, though nearly forty, at this moment resembled a nervous intern stepping into the office for the first time, carefully carrying a freshly ground hot coffee into the main control hall himself.
His gaze fell on the boy standing with his back to him, and his eyes involuntarily shone with a near-burning worship and longing.
The boy was writing something in the Friendship Book, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, and Nelson felt that every strand of his hair seemed to radiate the light of wisdom.
That curly-haired fellow named Antoine was bent over at his side, openly looking on. Even though Nelson had secretly glared at him several times, he showed no intention of moving aside.
Nelson cursed that curly-haired guy twice in his heart, but since the other man was a friend brought by Vid Gray, he could only swallow his displeasure, and stand a few meters away like a butler, not peeking at what Vid Gray was writing.
A moment later, Vid put away the Quill and closed the Friendship Book, and only then did Nelson tiptoe over.
"Mr. Gray, your coffee."
Nelson set the coffee on the table, his voice unconsciously respectful.
"Thank you, Mr. Nelson." Vid smiled. "Borrowing your place at such short notice—I'm afraid we've imposed."
"You're too polite!" Nelson waved his hands quickly, his tone even a bit flattered. "It's our honor that you're here! There's absolutely no such thing as imposing!"
"Besides, the boss already instructed us: whenever you need anything, we must do our utmost to help, at any time! You don't have to treat us like outsiders!"
He bowed in a fluster, saying, "Then I'll step out for now. If you need anything, please ring for me at any time. Rest assured, I will keep silent about everything I saw and heard today, and will never divulge anything about you!"
When he spoke of "keeping silent," he emphasized the words, sneaking a sideways glance at Antoine, clearly with a point to make.
Then Nelson gave a slight bow and withdrew from the room, looking a little ill at ease.
The moment the door closed, Antoine couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter and reached out to ruffle Vid's hair.
"See? You can now casually run into admirers wherever you go, Vid," Antoine said. "Even in other countries."
"Haven't I had this kind of admirer for a long time?" Vid glanced at him sidelong, raising a brow. "Otherwise, why would I have gone to Gray Castle in the first place?"
"Hahahahaha…" Antoine burst out laughing. "That's true!"
Grindelwald had gone to great lengths to personally kidnap a boy, then brought him back and pampered him with good food and drink… judging from that alone, how could he not count as a "rabid fan"?