Many people let out short gasps, and instinctively ducked to avoid, instantly breaking the deathly silence of the trial atmosphere.
Fontana, who had fallen at the bottom of the steps, also moved his gaze, looking towards the direction of the sound.
One of his students quietly waved a Magic Wand, trying to untie Fontana, but the Spell had no effect. Helplessly, he looked around at others, only to find that it seemed like no one saw Fontana's predicament.
After overcoming their initial panic and confusion, everyone turned and saw Laira Piqueley, whose face was like frozen frost.
The magnificent podium that symbolized the chairman's authority in front of her had vanished for the most part, leaving only a charred base and a few stubbornly smoldering embers swirling around her feet, her whole being exuding terrifying anger.
"Enough!"
Her voice wasn't loud, yet it seemed to carry more authority than Hosone ever did, making the few people closest to her subconsciously step back half a step.
Laira's gaze slowly swept across the crowd, resolutely saying, "I can no longer remain silent!"
She stepped forward, the sound of her boot heels striking the ground unusually clear in the silence.
Laira did not look at the Flow Mirror, nor did she acknowledge the voice coming from it.
She only gazed upon the people in the room, especially those Wizards who were not long ago clustered around Fontana, showcasing deep pain, heavy disappointment, and a kind of decisiveness that arises when forced to defend at the brink of despair.
"What we are witnessing—"
She raised her hand, pointing to the Flow Mirror, her arm firm as a rock.
"Is not an exposure, not justice. But a meticulously planned, extremely malicious celebration of defamation and entrapment!"
She swiftly swung her arm:
"The enemy—those truly hiding in the shadows, fearing our unity, dreading our regained strength and dignity—they have gone mad! They will stop at nothing to break us from within, to see the Magic Congress descend again into division and paralysis!"
"They might attack me, slander me, pin Hosone's crimes, Selena's death, and even the goblin outburst from ten years ago all on me, but I fear nothing!"
"Ever since standing here, I was prepared for the most despicable and fierce attacks from the enemy!"
Her gaze was piercing as she looked at everyone, even directly confronting Samuel, Selena's brother, loudly saying:
"But they should not use such means—not forge documents, splice illusions, manipulate truths, using such disgraceful lies to attack a revered headmaster! To assault our shared belief in safeguarding the Magic World!"
"The woman on the screen is merely a journalist from the United Kingdom adept at fabricating scandals in third-rate tabloids, a most infamous liar! She has deceived you with tears, bewildered you with fabricated evidence!"
"But you—"
She suddenly spread her arms, everyone felt as if she was speaking directly to them:
"—all American Wizards present, is there anyone who didn't graduate from Ilvermorny? Is there anyone who hasn't been watched over by Headmaster Fontana? Do we not know what kind of person he is?"
Unable to speak, Fontana was moved to tears, as if his innocence was finally being vindicated.
For students who attended normally, Fontana was always a tolerant, gentle, and kind teacher and elder. Everyone seemed to have some warm little stories with the headmaster, sometimes a word of encouragement, sometimes covert support.
Recalling these, many showed expressions of shame, their faces flushed for having been deceived by the performance in the Flow Mirror, while some ran to try to untie Fontana.
Of course, they did not succeed.
A complex feeling arose in Fontana, suddenly realizing something wasn't quite right... something was amiss...
He strained to look upwards, wanting to convey his discovery to Laira.
But on stage, Laira's gaze was sweeping across all the faces that were either doubtful, shaken, or reignited with anger, unable to pay attention to her own feet.
Her voice reached a peak, saying with immense grief and indignation:
"Here, I want to tell those rats lurking in the gutter: you have chosen the wrong target! You have underestimated the resilience of the American Magic Congress, and even more underestimated our steel will to protect the future of the Magic World!"
"This despicable farce should end! Now, I ask everyone—open your eyes, stand your ground! Don't let yourselves be led by the nose! Let us answer these slanders with facts, with action, with faster and more decisive investigation and counterattack!"
"Sloan Paul, Director!"
Her gaze shot towards a man in the crowd—who was the newly and hastily promoted director of the Auror Office.
"Here!" Paul was startled and responded loudly.
Laira said: "You will immediately lead the elite squad, track down the source of this illegal broadcast, arrest all planners and participants!"
"This is not a debate, this is the most rampant provocation against the International Confidentiality Law and our entire Magic Congress! It's an act of war! Absolutely not to be tolerated!"
Director Paul loudly said, "Yes!"
He thought he and his group were certainly doomed, yet unexpectedly Laira managed a comeback, and in his excitement, his response was especially loud.
The ringing, powerful voice seemed to carry a natural sense of justice, steadiness, and persuasiveness.
The Auror Director swiftly departed, and then Laira unexpectedly walked straight to the front of the Flow Mirror, lifted her head, facing the journalist on the screen accusing "Laira Piqueley and her clique", as if through the lens, directly confronting foes lurking in the shadows.
Her voice lowered, carrying anger as she said:
"Let me see, coward hiding in the gutter... beyond these forged fragments and incited lies, what other decent tricks do you have?"
The light from the Flow Mirror reflected on her upright silhouette, as well as the array of varied faces below the stage.
Laira's uncompromising, grief-stricken righteousness, her absolute confidence and refusal to back down, all carried powerful persuasive allure.
Many people are naturally easily swayed by emotions rather than guided by reason, let alone the evident stance of Fontana on Laira's side.
Thus their looks of panic and suspicion were replaced by outrage, the balance within their hearts instinctively tilting towards Laira, trembling at the thought that the contents of the Flow Mirror might have spread nationwide, worldwide, sensing this as an unprecedented scale conspiracy.
Yet there were also those whose eyes maintained a cold clarity.
They were not convinced by the impassioned speeches on both sides, yet could see Rita Skeeter indeed presented substantial evidence.
Even now, as Skeeter began presenting more facts, part of the screen kept scrolling and switching evidence, some appeared to be remnants of experimental log pages, all with remarkably clear notes and ink-smudged traces of varying depths.
If falsified... who could fake it to such an extent?
And Laira... what she described might also exist, but it was, in essence, avoiding the real issues. She had slogans and anger, but nothing real and tangible.
Laira indeed temporarily regained some discourse, but she could not completely erase the doubts already impressed in people's minds and hearts.
Power had not yet fallen, but the string suspending it was taut to the extreme, emitting a subtle and sharp wail about to snap.
"Boom!!!"
The heavy oak doors of the atrium were suddenly pushed open, battered against the walls on either side, making a massive dull sound.
All eyes immediately turned over.
At the entrance where light poured in, stood a slender, frail, weakened figure.
Her hair was silver as snow, her face marked by the weariness of recovery from illness, those eyes strikingly similar to Laira's were like cold stars, seeming to have flames quietly burning within.
And Laira gazed at the suddenly appearing figure, her pupils slightly contracted, fingers unconsciously twitching for a moment.
Seraphina Picquery.
Decades ago, the chairman of the Magic Congress, who led the American Magic Congress through its hardest years, Laira Piqueley's aunt, and also... reportedly a "serious patient" under strict supervision at the Magic Hospital, unable to receive visitors.
Her standing here was like an answer itself.
Stella supported her frail aunt, but everyone ignored the girl, moreover no one noticed a seemingly ordinary young man standing behind them.
Vid lifted his eyes, first seeing the stunned Laira, then Fontana bound like a rice dumpling, finally locking eyes with one of the guests.
That person bent their eyes, revealing a particularly satisfied smile.