Chapter 78. A Ray of Hope
The impressive throne room of Westminster Palace was filled with a tense atmosphere. The majestic Arthur Pendragon sat at the table, surrounded by his trusted advisors. Their faces expressed seriousness and an understanding of the importance of the situation they were currently discussing. The battle that had occurred on Christmas Eve had left a bitter taste not only in London but in the hearts of everyone present.
Arthur, draped in a lavish cloak, anxiously looked at his loyal advisors. His voice, filled with determination, sounded hopeful and resolute:
"Dear friends, the consequences of our recent clash with the Servants speak of potential dangers that our population faces. If people were to learn the truth about what happened, they will undoubtedly demand protective measures from the government. We are facing not only a difficult situation but also potential chaos."
The valiant Prime Minister, standing next to Arthur, whispered in a voice filled with boundless support:
"Your Majesty, as the head of the government, I promise you that I and my government will support the magical community. We will not allow anyone to harm our land, neither the Servants themselves nor even the Muggles who believe so firmly in the hostility of the wizarding world."
Arthur nodded in gratitude and proposed to meet with the Prime Minister personally, to discuss the details and develop an action plan to prevent a possible conflict between Muggles and wizards. In a calm tone, he said:
"We must take care of the swift restoration of the damages. Today is already Christmas, and people deserve the opportunity to return home and celebrate the holiday happily." At this point, Arthur made a meaningful pause. "As much as possible. I will personally lead the restoration process."
One of the advisors, looking at King Arthur with a serious expression on his face, cleared his throat to get his attention. He rose from his seat and walked confidently towards the king. He had a powerful build, with short dark hair. When he took off his black sunglasses, his gray eyes, full of cunning and vigilance, appeared. There was a slight stubble on his face, giving him a mysterious look. His clothing was simple and practical, emphasizing his desire for comfort. Everything about this advisor indicated that he deserved attention and could surprise with his actions. The king did not ignore him and gestured for him to speak.
"Allow me to address you, Your Majesty. I, Jonathan Strong, deeply respect your desire to lead the magical restoration of the affected areas of London. However, I must warn you of the risk that such a decision may entail. Your presence on the frontlines can be perceived as a symbol of hope and strength for the people, and it is quite likely that it will allow you to better coordinate efforts and inspire others to work. However, there is also a risk to your personal safety. During the restoration, there will be many affected individuals who have suffered loss, and some of them may experience emotional tension and anger, which they may redirect towards you.
Allow me to propose a compromise. You can lead the restoration team, but I suggest organizing additional protection for you. This will allow you to be present, support and inspire the people, while ensuring your safety. A team of gathered specialists will carry out the primary restoration work, and your role will be to coordinate, make key decisions, and communicate with the population.
I am prepared to establish a special security detail that will ensure your safety and monitor access to you to prevent possible threats. This will enable you to personally oversee the progress of the restoration while minimizing risks for you. After all, it is important for the restoration of London to be successful and for the population to feel a sense of security and renewal.
King Arthur, your participation will be a great inspiration for all of us. I believe that through our joint efforts, we can restore the shine and transform the affected areas of London into vibrant and strong communities. Believe in yourself, Your Majesty, and in us, your team, and together we can achieve great results."
When Jonathan finished his speech, his gray eyes reflected a deep gaze and the hope he hoped to convey to King Arthur.
"Do not worry, noble Strong," the king responded with maximum composure. "I do not hesitate in the face of destiny. And if there were any need to feel fear, how would we live and go out into the streets?"
"Your Majesty, on behalf of the lords of the Clock Tower, I fully support your decision to lead the restoration process," Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald spoke. "Your personal involvement in this will give the citizens hope and confidence in a prosperous future. I am happy to offer my services and knowledge of magic to expedite the restoration process."
"King Arthur, I share Lord El-Melloi's opinion," agreed Marisbury Animusphere. "Your guidance in this situation will not only demonstrate your leadership to the people, but also help strengthen the magical community's trust in the government. I am willing to contribute and allocate my resources for an effective organization of the restoration."
"King Arthur, your decision impresses me," said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. "I am confident that your personal intervention will help restore order and coordination among the wizards. I am ready to provide all necessary informational and organizational resources for the successful completion of this important mission."
"Your Majesty, as a non-magical person, I support your intention to personally participate in the restoration of the damages," one of the Muggle advisors spoke. "Your example will be an important symbol of unity between the magical and non-magical worlds. I am ready to offer assistance in resource mobilization and coordination efforts among the Muggles."
Another advisor snorted, drawing attention to himself.
"Samuel Graves at your service, Your Majesty," the man addressed the king with an intelligent face and an analytical gaze.
The king nodded silently, offering Samuel the floor.
"Your Majesty, I believe that your intention to lead the magical restoration of the affected areas of London after the Battle of Servants in the Holy Grail War is truly noble and commendable. However, allow me to express concerns regarding your personal safety.
Undoubtedly, your presence will hold great significance for the population of London, recovering from the aftermath of this epic battle. However, given the circumstances that remain after the conflict, it might be wise to consider the possibility of leading the restoration efforts not personally and not at this moment.
Your presence at such a massive event may attract unwanted attention and create potential dangers to your personal security. After all, even restoration through magic requires time and resources, and there are individuals who seek to hinder harmony and recovery, seizing opportunities to cause harm or create chaos.
I propose developing and implementing a plan that would allow you to support and guide the restoration process from a command center, enabling us to personally exchange information and consult with you. In this way, we can successfully coordinate our efforts and carry out the restoration without jeopardizing your life and safety.
I urge you to consider these aspects and make a decision that will be best for you, the affected areas of London, and our entire country. Your leadership, Your Majesty, will undoubtedly be invaluable in this process, and I fully support your altruistic intention."
"I thank you, Mr. Graves. I am not one to shy away from difficulties and fear taking on the challenges that destiny presents. If you so desire, I grant you and Mr. Strong permission to organize security. I hope it will not be excessive."
"I thank you, esteemed Mr. Graves. I am not one of those people who shrink from hardships and fear to accept the challenges that fate may send us. If your desire is so great, I allow you and Mr. Strong to organize security, as you wished. Just let it not be excessive, for my attention is always open to good intentions."
The Prime Minister, genuinely touched by Arthur's nobility, agreed, extending his hand in a sign of agreement.
"King Arthur, I share your concern and fully support your decision to personally lead the restoration process. We will do everything necessary, Your Majesty, to prevent potential conflicts and maintain peace between our citizens," he replied with a voice filled with importance and devotion. "This will be a symbol of strong leadership that, I am confident, will strengthen trust in our government and reaffirm our serious commitment to the safety of our people."
Every word and every movement of his testified to his dedication to the well-being of the country and its people. He was a courageous and brave leader, receiving heroic recognition both among his advisors and the citizens of the Kingdom. Nodding decisively, the Prime Minister said, "I would be delighted to hear you, Your Majesty. Let us go to the city and lead our challenging but important task."
This occurred in the grand hall of Westminster Palace, when Arthur Pendragon and the Prime Minister of Britain gathered for an important meeting. Their decision was clear - to face the challenges, restore peace and order in the capital, and find ways to ensure the safety and happiness of their citizens.
On the same morning, Harry Potter went out onto the streets, full of ruins and sadness. He decided to help the victims and uplift the spirits of the townspeople, as Christmas should be a magical time.
As he wandered through the streets, Harry noticed a contrast: the streets were filled with Christmas decorations and festive lights, but the people still looked oppressed and shaken. In that moment, he saw a silhouette on Grimmauld Place, opposite house number twelve.
A lone figure in a blue cloak stood silently on the square, gazing at the destroyed city. Harry stopped, drawn to the mystery of this person. Who was he and why was he hiding his identity? Was it related to the events of the past few days?
The young wizard approached the cloaked figure slowly, hoping to engage him in a conversation.
"Hello," Harry called out. "How did you manage to escape the destruction?"
He didn't even realize what he was saying. That's not what he wanted to ask! He wanted to inquire about how the king found his godfather's home. The figure turned around. The unknown person's face was concealed by a lion mask, and Harry instantly recognized it. He noticed a spark in the eyes, piercing through the mask. It seemed as though the stranger smiled at him underneath it.
"Destruction is a part of nature, but it is our duty to help those who have suffered," replied King Arthur Pendragon in a gentle yet firm tone.
Harry felt that this person had vast life experience and deep thoughts.
"You're not your average guests, are you?" Harry said, bewildered, trying to find the right words. "It seems like you know more than you're showing."
The masked figure nodded and approached Harry.
"The mask is not only a way to keep one's identity secret, but also a symbol of strength and courage," said the figure. "Tell me, Harry Potter, what do you know about the battle of yesterday and what is happening in London?"
Harry felt that he could trust this person.
"I know that Jeanne d'Arc Alter and Mordred fought against Hercules. I decided to help the victims as soon as I learned about it from the newspapers."
The masked figure remained silent, looking meaningfully at Harry before speaking.
"You know more than you think. This battle is just one of many heralding a historical anomaly occurring in our world. And the Servants terrorizing London are just the beginning."
Harry felt a surge of desire to learn more about the upcoming events. "What does this mean? What else awaits us?"
"A lot, my young friend," replied the masked figure, as if reading his thoughts. "But you have the strength and willpower to overcome it. Don't let yourself be broken, and remember that even in the darkest times, small moments of joy and kindness can bring light to the abyss."
Harry felt deep excitement and gratitude towards this enigmatic person.
"Thank you for supporting me. I will try not to forget this."
The masked figure nodded, lowering their head and whispered, "Strive to help others when you have the opportunity. And remember, the forces of good always prevail over evil."
Harry thanked the mysterious person with a smile and walked away, filled with determination and hope. He understood that his encounter with the Lion Mask held significant meaning for his future and the future of the world.
Arthur Pendragon watched as Harry disappeared into the crowd. His heart filled with pride and hope. All the steps he had taken, all the good he had done, had been justified. The mask of the lion kept the secrets of his identity, but even through that mask, he hoped that his kindness and determination could inspire and help the young wizard.
Arthur looked at the destroyed city and decided that the task of defending and rebuilding the world was more important than ever. He became a symbol of hope and strength for many, and he was ready to accept this role with humility and courage.
"Who was that?" the prime minister asked the king, approaching him accompanied by guards.
"A ray of hope for the future of our world," Arthur replied.
Christmas in London has always been a truly magical holiday. However, this time it was particularly special thanks to the incomparable grandeur of King Arthur Pendragon and his allies. Harry was quite surprised to see that the king personally overseeing the restoration work of the damaged quarters of London after the great Battle of Servants.
The entire street was adorned with torches, their flickering light enveloping the festive night with a gentle, mysterious glow. Magnificent banners supporting peace and unity hung all around, and the center of the celebration was a large square adorned with towering Christmas trees and arcs made of living flowers.
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge did not leave King Arthur's side for a moment, trying to support him in this challenging event. The tall man with graying hair and a scruffy beard, strongly resembling an ancient Greek sage, walked by his side, occasionally nodding or answering questions from his immediate superior.
Under one of the lanterns, surrounded by eternal flames and blooming lilies, a small crowd soon gathered, led by His Majesty Arthur Pendragon himself. Seated at the table, covered in wet, polished wood, was Arthur, majestic and noble in his silver velvet cloak. His motionless lion mask reflected infinite determination and love for his land.
Among his advisors stood the Prime Minister himself, looking important as he attempted to listen to reports from the officials sent to talk to the city's residents. The news of the king's appearance quickly spread among the people. The crowd pressed forward with increasing strength. People gathered from every corner of the capital, just to catch a glimpse of their king. Some tried to approach the king and his advisors directly, but the vigilant security guards formed a barricade and did not allow anyone through to His Majesty. Snipers moved along the roofs of nearby and even distant houses, while military helicopters hovered within a mile radius, ready to pick up the king and engage in battle with any potential enemies at any moment.
In the shadow of the burning ruins of houses, Harry worked hand in hand with his brave friends. They were united, embodying unwavering strength and persistence. Hermione, always the curious intellect, Ron, irresistibly tanned with black battle scars on his face, Cedric, glowing with a golden radiance of youth, Tonks, with her marvelous ability to change her appearance, Lupin, with a dark gaze full of hidden darkness, Sirius, with a proud and desperate expression on his face, Grum, with a gloomy and enigmatic gaze - they silently continued their mission.
Deeper in the ruins, Mordred, with a face distorted by anger after someone's failed joke, Jeanne, with a self-satisfied and laughter-filled eyes, and Mash, conserving her strength for the final battle for other people's lives, set out to search for survivors. Their footsteps echoed in the empty space, their hearts beat with hope of finding at least one person saved. They searched, they listened to every rustle, striving to catch any sign, any indication that someone was still alive.
The work continued non-stop throughout the day. The guys took turns, supporting each other, constantly gathering and dispersing, but only the Servants remained relentless, without rest or a moment of respite. And by sunset, a couple of hours before the onset of winter twilight, the joker Sam Brightwood joined them. He came, despite all the horrors and dangers around, laughing as if he had never known the bitterness that had engulfed each of them. With him came a mysterious girl with pink hair, who, as if in one swift move, revitalized the gloomy ruins with her presence. She was lively and cheerful in conversation, bringing a little light into this endless darkness. And how surprised they were when this girl suddenly called herself by a male name:
- Noble knight Astolf at your service!
But they were not the only ones who joined this dangerous mission. A little earlier, the noble Katie Mellowhate arrived, bold and determined like a lioness among the ravaged walls. With her came the thoughtful Agatha, her eyes full of starlight, shining with shadows of concern and boundless love for the world. So different, yet merging together, they created an incredible combination of unity and sweet harmony.
Together, in their collective work and with desperate determination, they proved that even in the toughest times, in the most hopeless moments, the power of friendship and hope can break through the darkness and reach the light.
In the arduous task of rebuilding the destroyed quarter, Harry suddenly noticed an unexpected guest. Among the adults, busy with their own affairs, a small figure stood out like a white raven. It was a little girl who somehow managed to slip into their work zone.
She had light hair, with long locks cascading down to her waist. Her face was remarkably serious for her age, and her big dark brown eyes stared at them with genuine interest. She was dressed in expensive clothes so lavish that even Draco Malfoy would envy.
But despite her luxurious attire, she didn't assert herself. She simply stood on the side, observing them, as if trying to understand what they were doing. Her gaze was so focused and serious that Harry couldn't help but notice her.
However, when he turned around to look at her again, she had vanished. She disappeared so quickly and silently that Harry didn't even notice how it happened. He looked around, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. She disappeared just as abruptly as she appeared, leaving behind only memories of her short presence.
The darkness consumed the ravaged quarter of London, with only the lights in the broken windows of houses flickering in the distance. Jeanne, clad in her usual attire, stood on the rubble, her eyes reflecting the blazing lights and the shadow of indescribable bitterness that enveloped the ruins.
Her hands, toughened by past battles, skillfully moved through the debris, as if clinging to the last chance to save someone's life. Twilight had already enveloped this desolate corner, but inside Jeanne burned a bright fire of determination and hope.
Her heart beat in tune with cries for help coming from under the rubble. Compassion smoldered in her eyes, and her face expressed boundless strength of will. She was not afraid of the darkness and danger, for she had a purpose in front of her - to save lives, even if it would be her final feat.
Every step Jeanne took was filled with a deep understanding of the value of every life. She herself was amazed by this. She reached for the debris as if the soul yearned for light, despite the silent cry of the past, even if it seemed impossible.
Jeanne did not speak a word, but her gestures and expression spoke more than thousands of words could. Her soul was filled with the strongest desire to save the lives of others, and anyone who met her gaze could not help but share her feelings and emotions.
The smell of smoke surrounded her, and scattered debris and severed wires were strewn everywhere, creating a labyrinth of hopelessness.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter listened carefully to the crackling flames and the sound of destruction surrounding her in this devastated district of London. She felt the pain and suffering that permeated this ravaged land. Her heart burned with the desire to help the people who had suffered from this cruel act of violence.
Catching sight of the mist-covered windows, Jeanne jumped into the black abyss, ready to risk her life for those in need. Her body moved with a speed unimaginable for a mere mortal, like an arrow racing towards its target. Sprays of defeated enemies rose into the air, like symbols of victory possessed by her young will.
As Jeanne pierced the broken buildings with her gaze, she saw not only broken bones and burns, but also sparks of hope reflected in the eyes of the people. Without words, she felt their fear, despair, and faint sense of hope.
Bending down in front of herself, Jeanne firmly grabbed the hand of the person hanging over the abyss with a maimed leg. Her touch was full of compassion and strength, which she transferred like the gift of life to the desperate. Weakness gave way to hope when this person met her eyes. Their fates intertwined in an irresistible connection.
Then Jeanne directed her attention to another human figure, lost in the dark corridors of a ruined building. She was darting about like a cornered beast, searching for a way to freedom and survival. Silently, Jeanne walked alongside her, secretly providing strength and assurance. Their wordless agreement triumphed over the chaos surrounding them.
The mechanical movement of her hands, barely discernible in the frenetic rush, became a sign of salvation. Jeanne rescued the wounded, covered in dust and ash, from the chimneys of shattered homes. Her movements clearly conveyed immense power, but also tenderness that tamed fear and cruelty.
When the saved found refuge in silence, Jeanne briefly touched her face, covered in ashes and blood. With a gaze full of sincere compassion and gratitude, she drew strength from her depths and continued to save, knowing no fatigue or fear.
Pouring herself entirely into her mission, Jeanne carried within her a multitude of emotions—strength and courage, sadness and pain from the suffering around her, as well as indomitable resolve and love for life. She experienced all of this without uttering a single word, but transmitting her emotions, feelings, and strength to each person she saved.
This moment was filled with a majestic balance between the devastation of the world and the impact of one girl who, though wounded in spirit, would never let darkness prevail. The light of strength and hope shone in her eyes, and each of her movements resembled strokes from the brush of a great artist, painting a picture of strength and compassion.
Jeanne stood on the rubble of a destroyed building, casually coughing from the dust and smoke. Surprise and horror still lingered in her eyes from what had transpired. Minutes seemed to stretch into eternity, and her heart beat so loudly that it threatened to burst from her chest.
She slowly surveyed the surroundings. Destruction and annihilation everywhere. The remaining standing building was measured to crumble under the pressure of time and destruction. Jeanne took a step forward and immediately part of the floor cracked, threatening to take her down.
But her attention was drawn to a faint child's cry. Ignoring her own safety, Jeanne directed her gaze through the ruins. A little girl, scared eyes filled with tears, was buried under impassable debris. Jeanne felt her legs fail, and she knelt down to take the girl in her arms.
Jeanne slowly rose from under the rubble, trying to gather her thoughts after the horrifying battle. Her clothes were torn and stained with dirt and blood. But she didn't care about that at all, because in front of her, amidst the ruins, worry, and dust, lay a little girl.
The little girl, startled by the sound, looked up at Jeanne with frightened yet hopeful eyes. She had seen Jeanne fly through her room and therefore knew that she was her only chance of salvation. Fueled by this conviction, Jeanne moved closer.
She tentatively reached out her hand, as if asking for permission to come closer. The girl nodded. A deep sense of warmth filled Jeanne, as if she had received a revelation from above. In that approval and the smile that followed, there was so much simplicity and purity that Jeanne couldn't believe her luck.
She immediately started clearing the debris, moving with mechanical skill and precision. Without hesitation, she picked up the girl, feeling her warmth and tremor. Jeanne held the child close, as if trying to transmit all the love and protection that she could summon in seconds from her emotionally overwhelmed soul.
With anger and despair, she stared intensely at the complete devastation around her, exerting her willpower to hold back a cry of pain. But then she realized that in this little being in her arms, there was hope - hope to overcome pain and loss, to resist the evil that also mysteriously dwelled within Jeanne.
And then the girl, gently stroking Jeanne's cheek, spoke such simple yet powerful words that Jeanne couldn't hold back tears.
"You're a superhero, right? Teach me how to fly."
In her trembling hand, Jeanne held a small sheet of paper, on which a simple child's drawing was sketched - yet it was priceless to her. Bright colors portrayed her own portrait, drawn by this little artist. But in this simple and innocent creation, Jeanne discovered the resurrection of her own heart.
In the picture, she soared high in the air, like a famous Superman, reaching out both hands swiftly. For her, it was a precious touch of the unattainable - something she had never been able to feel, never believed was possible; something she had long pushed aside, never wanting to touch it. In these innocent drawings and the unconscious sincerity of the girl, Jeanne realized that her own heart was filled with the most incredible volumes of sincerity and faith, long lost to her in the past. Tears filled her eyes, expressing immense relief, and she knew that only they could soften the immense burden that had suddenly overwhelmed her and threatened to crush her at any second.
The mingling of emotions shook Jeanne, causing her to lose control over the emotions that filled her essence. Yielding to their frenzy, she gripped the girl's hand, striving to capture this miracle in her memory, vowing never to forget it.
In that moment, Jeanne felt she was no longer alone. Being a warrior in Paris, she had always been lonely. But now, there was fire beside her - the fire of hope that had once extinguished in her heart. And she promised herself: this fire would never go out again.
Suddenly, out of the blue, Jeanne felt her loneliness shattered. Throughout her life, spent in endless battles on the streets of Paris, she had been a lonely wolf, acquainted only with the coldness of solitude. But in this moment, in this magical moment, she felt something different.
It was fire. Not the fire that burns and destroys, but the fire that warms and empowers. The fire of hope that had once, in ancient times, extinguished in her tormented heart. It reignited, filling her soul with warmth and light that she had long missed.
Suddenly, Jeanne felt something incredible awakening in her heart. It was like an explosion, but instead of pain, she felt joy. She wanted to scream and jump, rejoice and dance, laugh and sing. She wanted to run and cry tears of happiness that had suddenly pierced her heart.
She didn't understand what was happening to her. It was so strange, so unfamiliar. Just a couple of years ago, she only knew pain and suffering. But now, a fire of joy burned in her heart, and she didn't know what to do with it.
She wanted to scream, but instead, she just smiled. She wanted to jump, but instead, she just raised her head and looked at the sky. She wanted to rejoice, but instead, she just closed her eyes and savored the feeling.
She didn't understand what was happening to her. But she didn't want this feeling to ever leave her. She wanted it to stay with her forever. Because it was the most beautiful thing she had ever felt.
And in that moment, standing amidst the ruins and chaos, she solemnly promised herself. This fire, this light of hope that had reignited in her heart, would never extinguish. It would shine in the darkness, guiding her path, and she would follow it, no matter the obstacles in her way.
And so, Jeanne continued to save the girl, moving through the debris and shattered glass, now with confidence and determination. In her heart, wrapped in rags and metal, a flame ignited - a flame of hope that she spread with each person she saved.
Jeanne kept moving forward, but now she did it with a new confidence and determination. She knew that there was still enough strength and courage in her heart to save many more lives. And let its flame ignite alongside those saved and inspire others on the edge of the abyss.
She knew that this girl was the epitome of what Jeanne had always strived to protect. And each person saved meant not only a victory over evil but also her own victory over the darkness she had only recently been in herself. It was the most beautiful and wonderful feeling in her life - a feeling so real, so strong, and so beautiful that it brought the most sincere smile to her face.
The fire of hope, which suddenly ignited in her heart, was something completely new and incomprehensible to Zhanna. This warmth, this light, they were so foreign to her, so impossible. Just a few years ago, she only knew cold and darkness. But now, a fire burned in her heart, and she didn't know what to do with it.
In the evening, she went to bed but couldn't fall asleep. She tossed and turned, trying to understand these new feelings that had taken hold of her. She felt the warmth of the fire penetrating every cell of her body, the light illuminating every corner of her soul. It was so strange, so unfamiliar. But at the same time, it was so pleasant.
She lay there, listening to her heartbeat, which synchronized with her new emotions. She felt herself changing, becoming someone else. And it was scary. But at the same time, it was beautiful.
Eventually, she fell asleep. There was a smile on her face, a smile of kindness and tranquility that she hadn't seen there in a very long time. And in her dreams, she saw light, the light of hope that now burned in her heart.
Voldemort stood, leaning over the black mirror. His long fingers with sharp nails touched the glass. His slitted eyes with vertical pupils stared intensely into the darkness of the reflection.
He nodded slightly. Ripples spread across the mirror. The silhouette of an unknown figure appeared in a hood.
Voldemort licked his bloodless lips and curved them into a cruel smirk. The shadow nodded in response, and a tremor ran through its hood - whether laughter or a growl of approval.
Voldemort's fingers clenched into a fist. He mouthed:
"Soon..."
The figure in the mirror tilted its head slightly. Its eyes flickered with anticipation of bloodshed. They understood each other without words.