Harry Potter, hiding in the hidden cloak, watched everything coldly, the young witch who grew up, had already realized that her hands were covered with blood, and in England, his motherland, had to set off a violent revolution.

Under his wide sleeves, he tightly held his wand. The powerful magic power from the Magic Net system gave him the ability to accurately control all the variables in the studio.

When the field staff put their hands on the camera, they were shocked to find that the camera was as if it was welded with space, and no matter how hard it was pushed, it would not move.

Host Hancock still spoke nonsense on the stage, telling all kinds of inside stories unrestrainedly, from cabinet ministers and diocese bishops who like to raise ** to top producers in the entertainment industry who like to replace the teeth of dead black people for themselves.

As a gold medal host, Hancock has enough steps to touch some "confidential" news, not to mention that he also has a male lover as a blood noble.

According to backstage statistics, the ratings of this morning news have soared and are close to the historical peak of the BBC. Obviously, this program that unscrupulously exposes the true faces of the "big figures" is in line with the aesthetic interests of the people.

Unfortunately, not everyone is happy about it.

If the director of the program could turn the anger into substance, he might have burned everyone present to ashes. He no longer thought about why the camera position was still moving, but stared with his eyes wide and roared sharply: "Hurry up, drag him down!"

The big and round-waisted field staff immediately broke into the center of the camera, bypassed the long table, and plagiarized the left and right sides towards Hancock.

Unexpectedly, this bloated, out-of-body gold medal host suddenly burst out with unimaginable power, throwing all the field staff away, combing their bow tie to the camera, and calmly said: "First of all, please allow me to introduce myself."

"I am greedy, I desire power, I am complacent, I indulge in desire, I am a sinner, my name is Hancock Wallace, your faithful old friend."

The program director's breathing was stagnant for half a beat, and it was obvious that everything that happened on the scene had completely exceeded the control of this elite.

He had a sense of déjà vu. He himself, Hancock, who was in front of the camera, and the British people who were watching the morning news, all followed the scripts that had been designed, and the scenes in front of him seemed to be similar.

If used in French, it should be the most appropriate.

Hancock sat down slowly, put his legs on the edge of the table, drooping naturally, putting down his former reserve and arrogance, and said calmly: "Prime Minister Rachel Ross's emergency decree has been implemented for a month now.

Here I have to sigh that human adaptability is so strong, and human beings, an animal that claims to be the primates of all things, has such deep-rooted herdness and surrenderity.

It's only a month since we've been able to get used to the curfew imposed at 9 o'clock in the evening; we've been able to get used to the dwindling TV entertainment; we've been able to get used to all instructions from 10 Downing Street.

It cannot be denied that Prime Minister Ross is a master who plays with people's hearts.

She and her think tank accurately calculated our tolerance level, constantly exploring on the verge of the outbreak of the people, erasing our bloody nature of courage to resist.

She succeeded, we were domesticated.

I, like many people in front of the TV, enjoy the comfort of this regular life, the security of familiar faces, and the peace of day after day.”

Under Harry Potter's manipulation, Hancock grinned. The gold medal host who was once involved in the sexual assault scandal stretched out his palm, held his double chin, and said in a harmonious voice,

“It’s October 5th now, and one month left, we will usher in the day of Guy Fox, which we regarded as a fireworks ceremony.

In previous years, we have placed the scarecrow of Fox on a fire, mocking his overestimation, mocking his struggle for the great democracy, mocking everything about him—for he failed, on November 5, this sad day.

But now, I hope that in this way, I can have a good talk with people from all over the UK and talk about November 5 this year.

Of course, some people don't want us to speak.

At this moment, outside the studio where I was, a large number of security personnel had already stood, smashing the door with engineering hammers - they were trying to prevent me from further speaking more shocking news.

In addition, on the phone of the confidential channel, yelling orders from major figures from all sides, the fully armed soldiers will soon be on the road - these people are not coming to me, they are going to the suburbs to deal with a vicious massacre case.

A few hours ago, in an ancient manor outside London, more than a hundred elites from all walks of life in British society were holding a cult ceremony.

They plundered pure and lovely girls, used the British Empire's complicated bureaucratic system to shirk the girls' parents and relatives, and blocked any organization or individual trying to investigate in black or white.

The girl will be inserted into hundreds of syringes. Her blood flows outward along the syringe tube, and is consumed by the powerful and powerful who long to obtain life, strength and youth from the blood."

Hancock exhaled a breath and said with a wry smile: "Don't worry, friends in front of the TV, I know you may think I'm crazy, think I'm old and confused, think I'm a narrow biasist.

But the truth is that our great country has been completely eroded by the blood clan.”

The program director only felt dizzy. For hundreds of years, the blood clan has been blocking the news of his existence to civilians in the most strict way. No matter how powerful or powerful he is, as long as there is a slight intention to leak the news of the blood clan's existence, it will be ruthlessly erased.

And Hancock, he actually said it without any defense or any concern.

"By winning over the elite, these blood clans have gradually controlled the political arena in Britain and even Europe. All European prime ministers, presidents, prime ministers, and even the sadly inefficient and poor EU are all fucking dolls in the hands of blood clans.

The introduction of refugees in the Middle East is also one of the great plans that these blood clans want to implement. They try to provide more efficient blood-pack food by changing mainstream European races."

Hancock pursed his lips and said softly: "This news has been strictly sealed for a long time. These blood clan elites who have an absolute advantage still refuse to reveal any news.

Even they racked their brains to seal our mouths, blocked our ears, covered our eyes, and let all communication languages ​​die out in the estrangement.

Why?

Because although silence replaces conversation, words always retain its power. Words provide a way to express insights, and it can tell those willing to listen to the truth,

And the truth is that some things in this country are terriblely abnormal, right?"

Hancock smiled miserably and lamented in a compassionate tone: "In the land of the British Empire, we have had the freedom to oppose, freedom to think and speak,

And now, what we have is just a censorship and surveillance system that keeps lowering our tolerance line,

How did this happen?

Of course, some people have to bear greater responsibilities than others, and those who make accomplices for tigers under the banner of the blood clan will pay the price for it,"

Harry Potter clenched his fists, and accordingly, Hancock on the screen also clenched his fists and said in a deep voice: "But then again, if we want to find the culprit, just look in the mirror.

What can we see in the mirror?

The answer is a terrified, confused face.

It is this face that should be responsible for the current situation of us becoming two-legged sheep.

War, terrorist attacks, diseases, similar social problems in the British Empire are emerging one after another, trying to destroy your reason, deprive you of common sense, fear controls you, and makes you cast in chaos on our beloved Prime Minister, Ms. Rachel Ross,

She promises you order, she promises you peace, and the reward she wants is your obedience and silence,"

Hancock seemed to remember something, with a playful smile on his face, and moved slightly closer to his body.

“Last night, we decided to end this silence,

Last night, we destroyed Old Barry Street to remind the country of what it has forgotten,

More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen planned to engrave November 5 forever into our memory, and he hoped to remind the world of fairness, justice and freedom.

So, if you are willing to fall into depravity and still know nothing about the crimes committed by this government, then I suggest you let the 5th of November pass in a dull way,

But if you see what I see, if you feel what I feel, and you are willing to find what I look for, I ask you to stand side by side with me on the night of November 5 this year outside the Parliament Building, and we will leave them a November 5th that will never be forgotten."

Hancock stood up and said softly: "We are Wan, we are one, we have a unified name, Lord Voldemort, meaning Voldemort.

Of course, you can also call it V for short.”

He jumped off the table, put the fat face in front of the camera, with real tears in his eyes, and said softly: "My beloved compatriots,

If the sky is dark, then survive in the dark; if it is dangerous to make a sound, then remain silent;

If you feel powerless to shine, then you will be curled up in the corner of the wall.

But don't just defend darkness just because you're used to it;

Don’t be proud of your own misfortune;

Don’t laugh at those who are braver and more enthusiastic than yourself;

We can be as humble as dust, and not twisted as maggots."

The scenes of the TV show, as Hancock's whisper gradually faded, everything returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.

Harry Potter took back the Soul-Snatching Curse, and the door of the studio behind him collapsed. The secret police officers who obeyed Downing Street rushed in and dragged Hancock away with a confused look on their face.

The young witch followed the team of these secret policemen and walked out of the studio door.

He had sowed countless seeds, and just waited for them to grow silently, take root and sprout in the dark and dark underground, and accumulate strength.

There is still one month left before November 5th.
Chapter completed!