The straight-line distance from London, England to the Armenian Forest is almost more than 3,000 kilometers.
This is far beyond the casting range of the Apparition, and the ultra-long-distance cross-border door key must have extremely clear destination coordinate information and super magic power before it is set up. Both of these are not available in the British Ministry of Magic for the time being. Regular entry procedures
It would take at least half a day to walk.
Then there is only one way for them to "travel": Floo network.
In the magical world, at least in the European magical world, the Floo Network is the most common way for wizards to travel medium and long distances.
Unlike Phantom Travel and Portkeys, the magical worlds in various countries have relatively closed-loop floo management networks.
In each Ministry of Magic, there are also fireplaces that connect to neighboring magical governments, which are equivalent to customs for the non-magical world. However, these "special fireplaces" are usually used more as fast passages between nearby magical governments, rather than for supply.
Ordinary wizard family travel.
"The situation is urgent. In order to reach the Armenian Forest as soon as possible, we may need to carry out multiple floo network transmissions."
Cornelius Fudge drew his wand and waved it towards the dark peacock blue ceiling above the foyer.
Those moving and changing golden magic symbols gathered quickly, and instantly unfolded into a huge world map above everyone's heads.
"Our first stop is the hall of the French Ministry of Magic. We will go to the Italian Ministry of Magic through the French Ministry of Magic, followed by the Greek Ministry of Magic and the Turkish Ministry of Magic. It is not yet known whether the floo networks of the Armenian Magical Government and the Turkish Ministry of Magic are connected.
Sure, but as long as we arrive in Turkey and there is an Armenian forest next to it, even if we cannot teleport directly to the Armenian Ministry of Magic, we can still phantom directly..."
Perhaps in the eyes of some top wizards, Cornelius Fudge and Ministry of Magic employees are equal to mediocrity and bureaucrats.
However, mediocrity and mediocrity do not necessarily mean incompetence. It is obviously difficult for the professors at Hogwarts to understand the term administrative ability.
As the former Director of the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters, Cornelius Fudge is at least at the forefront of the Ministry of Magic in terms of on-the-spot reaction and execution ability. Under his deployment arrangements, the "Auror Expedition" quickly determined the teleportation
Paths, as well as the most basic action groups and goals.
"In short, if you encounter any animal in the forest, don't hesitate to recite the spell directly!"
Cornelius Fudge looked at the wizards surrounding him, put on his top hat again, and let out a breath.
"If there are no problems, let's get ready to leave now..."
"But, Mr. Minister, this is not in compliance with the international wizarding society's entry and exit approval process——"
Amelia Bones, the director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, frowned heavily and was a little worried.
"Mr. Barty Crouch will properly handle these issues. These are things that the Department of International Magical Cooperation needs to consider, aren't they? I believe Mr. Crouch can handle these. Besides, our operation was originally a just joint encirclement and suppression."
, just make it up after the process.”
Connelly waved his hand and replied nonchalantly, turning to look at the honest and silent wizard not far away.
"Kingsley, please write a letter to Mr. Crouch for me later and briefly explain the situation."
Among all the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley is undoubtedly the one that satisfies Cornelius Fudge the most: he comes from a pure-blood family, he does not have the murderous old-fashioned style of those old Aurors, he has a strict tone of voice, is loyal and reliable, and has good strength.
The most important thing is that it is much "cleaner" and "safer" than Umbridge.
After this period of observation, Kingsley Shacklebolt has become Fudge's first candidate to succeed the Auror Director.
Perhaps, when this matter is over, the British Ministry of Magic's reform of Auror early retirement should also be put on the agenda.
"Then, the security of the Ministry of Magic depends on you, Mr. Scrimgeour. Just in case, right?"
Cornelius Fudge glanced meaningfully at the "old lion" with a livid face, and tapped his wand lightly on the fireplace on the right.
A few wisps of sparkling powder slipped from the edge of the fireplace, and the bright green magic flame ignited in the fireplace.
"Gentlemen, it's time for us to set off -"
Cornelius Fudge looked around, cleared his throat, and read clearly.
"The French Ministry of Magic."
Following Cornelius Fudge's movements, the Aurors also drew out their wands and tapped on the empty fireplaces around them.
"The French Ministry of Magic."
"The French Ministry of Magic."
"The French Ministry of Magic..."
…………
Ukraine, Nikolaev city, Nikolaev shipyard.
During the former Soviet Union, this was the largest shipyard in the Black Sea region and the only aircraft carrier construction and assembly plant in the former Soviet Union.
Several aircraft carriers in the Soviet era - "Moscow", "Leningrad", "Kiev", "Minsk", "Novorossiysk", "Gorshkov", "Kuvar"
"Znetsov" and "Ulyanovsk" were all built here. Compared to St. Petersburg, which has a population of 4 million and is open to foreign tourists, the city of Nikolaev is not open to the public.
Work is easier.
With the sudden disintegration of the former Soviet Union, the already quiet and deserted city of Nikolayev has now become even more deserted and quiet.
In fact, since the unfinished aircraft carrier was forced to be dismantled into steel, the lights of the Nikolayev Shipyard have never turned on again. The once noisy and noisy shipyard is now as quiet as a ghostland, even if it is
Even the naughtiest kid won't play here after dark.
Snap, snap.
The monotonous sound of footsteps echoed in the empty dock.
In the thin mist at night, a faint orange halo swayed in the dock.
"Huh, it's so quiet. Don't you think so, Ulyanovsk?"
Makarov finished inspecting the No. 0 dock as usual, and finally stopped at the edge of the empty dock. He raised his head and stared at the water and sky in front of him that seemed to be shrouded in endless mist. He subconsciously passed the lantern in his hand forward, seeming to illuminate
Some huge shadow that doesn't exist.
Unfortunately, at the end of the faint orange halo of the lantern, there was nothing except the penetrating mist.
A few months ago, at the request of the Ukrainian government, he and a group of workers personally dismantled the ship they were most proud of in their lives.
According to the government's original statement, this was to free up enough space to complete large-scale merchant ship orders from Norway. Unfortunately, when the dismantling work was completed, the Norwegian company suddenly tore it up on the grounds of "economic downturn and cost reduction."
The order, after paying a small amount of compensation, quickly disappeared like ice and snow in summer - of course, Makarov was not surprised, after all, the economy in the United States is not good now.
Fortunately, I heard that the dismantled pile of special steel was finally sold for a good price in Austria.
"Thirteen million dollars? Hey, those politicians don't know where they found such a savior."
Makarov casually placed the lantern on the iron pillar, rubbed his hands, and puffed out thin mist in the air.
As the director of the Black Sea Shipyard, he has stayed here for almost half of his life. He knows every piece of land, every workshop, and every machine here. He can clearly name hundreds of senior technicians.
, can skillfully tell the length and width of each dock, but he cannot clearly recall what happened in the past few months in his mind... things that should be unforgettable and extremely heartbreaking for him.
Those memories seemed to be covered with a thin veil. He was sure that he must have been there, but at the same time, he had a strange feeling as if he was watching a movie.
And the most important thing is...
Makarov's eyes moved on the empty dock floor.
So clean, no scratches, no dents, not many cut marks and bump grooves.
Perhaps in the eyes of most people, this is nothing, but in the eyes of an old man who has been dealing with ships for most of his life, this place does not look like a construction site where a 29,000-ton ship was once dismantled. Those remaining carvings
, most of the dents were left when the Ulyanovsk was originally assembled and spliced. Makarov searched all his memories and did not find many new traces.
The old man took out a well-packaged black notebook from his arms and skillfully opened it to one of the pages.
In the pale yellow light, the familiar handwriting on the notebook looked particularly unfamiliar.
"1992.06.30, today is the last day of dismantling work."
"Perhaps, I will spend the rest of my life in confusion, regret, and pain, but I have no regrets, and I will not pursue the answer - the Ulyanovsk has not disappeared, it is hidden in every cloud in the sky
, just like Ulyanov has never left."
On the horizon...on every cloud?
Makarov's rough fingers gently rubbed the words.
He raised his head and looked at the boundless sky just like he did every night in the past.
A large group of thick dark clouds drifted from the sky at some point, blocking the moonlight that originally shone on the dock.