Emotions had never been something humans could control at will.
In fact, looking across the whole of human history, there had only ever been a handful of people who could truly control their emotions perfectly.
Most of the time, most people were controlled by their emotions instead.
So when Norton told Wendel to stay calm, it was more of a comfort than anything else.
What Link Flamel, or rather, Newland, was using now was an open strategy.
Since this wasn't the best time to capture Beauxbatons, surrounding it instead, putting it under immense psychological pressure, exhausting its defenders, wearing them down, and eventually making them collapse under prolonged stress had become the best method of attack.
That would ensure that when the time finally came to launch the real assault on Beauxbatons, the defenders inside would already be at their mental limit.
This tactic was especially effective against the still-young Beauxbatons students, many of whom were still in their teenage years.
Even Norton had to admit that whoever came up with this plan was an absolute genius.
Letting out a sigh, Norton stopped trying to persuade Wendel.
He sat back down behind his desk, flipping through a directory as he said,
"There shouldn't be much of a problem with food. We're wizards. Even if we really use up all the food stored in Beauxbatons, we can still use Transfiguration to turn leaves, tree bark, and things like that into roast chicken or roast duck. We can hold out for a while longer. It'll just feel unpleasant mentally.
"The real issue is the alchemical shells used for defense, along with the alchemical materials needed to maintain the rifled alchemy cannons and the rest of the defensive facilities.
"Can our suppliers still replenish those?
"If they can, we're even willing to pay more Galleons."
"They can't, Headmaster Norton." Wendel clenched his teeth and said bitterly, "Didn't I just tell you? The space around Beauxbatons has already been sealed off. Even house-elves can't Apparate anymore."
"I know that. What I mean is, can they get them in some other way? Dig a tunnel, perhaps? Or use the waterways at night? Heh, don't look at me like that. My ideas may sound stupid and crude, but in reality, simple methods are often the most effective, because everyone assumes the other side couldn't possibly be that stupid."
"I'm afraid that's impossible too! Lionheart Street and the other wizarding markets were also key targets for the British wizards. And now... they're all finished."
"Oh? How do you know that? As far as I remember, we've all been staying inside Beauxbatons Castle lately. No one has gone outside."
"That's right. None of us have gone out. But that doesn't mean we have no way of getting information from outside."
As he spoke, Wendel took out a bundle of newspapers tied together with a rubber band from inside his robes. He spread them out and smoothed them flat on Norton's desk.
The sight left Norton stunned.
He had only just lectured Wendel about how "stupid methods" were sometimes the best methods, yet Wendel immediately gave him a practical lesson in return.
How did you get information without leaving the house?
By reading the newspaper, of course.
Norton looked rather embarrassed and muttered,
"I thought that at a time like this, the French Wizarding Post would have stopped publishing."
"In fact, not only did they not stop, they've been publishing even more frequently."
Hearing that, Norton lowered his head in surprise and realized that every newspaper in front of him had been published either yesterday or today.
And the contents were so awkward they were beyond words.
In chronological order, the main headlines went something like this, the first paper, published yesterday morning, "The stupid British mongrels are boasting that they'll capture our toilet!"
The second paper, published early this morning, "Huge packs of British dogs are gathering around the center of their doghouse!"
The third paper, published this morning, "The terrifying British ogres have officially launched an attack on the sealed French Ministry of Magic!"
The fourth paper, published at noon, "Commissioner Link Flamel of the British Ministry of Magic has occupied the French Ministry of Magic and is advancing toward Lionheart Street. We will defend our homeland to the death!"
The fifth paper, published just a few hours ago, "His Supreme Majesty Link Flamel has descended upon his loyal Lionheart Street!"
Seeing that, Norton let go of the newspaper in his hand and allowed it to fall into a messy pile on the desk. Waving his arms helplessly, he seemed completely at a loss.
After quite a while, he finally managed to calm himself down and said with a bitter smile,
"The Muggles have a joke. They say that one-third of French men went to heaven with Joan of Arc, another third followed Emperor Napoleon into hell, and the last third died in the trenches of Verdun. As for the ones left behind, naturally they were all women.
"I always thought it was just a joke. At least the people they were laughing at were French Muggles. I thought French wizards were still... more manly.
"But who would've thought French wizards are exactly the same as French Muggles!"
"That was inevitable," Wendel shook his head. "Thanks to how open the French magical world is, wizards and Muggles have lived mixed together for a long time. It's only natural they've been influenced by Muggles. But I don't think that's what you should be focusing on. You should take a closer look at what's happened to Lionheart Street and the other wizarding markets."
Norton didn't pick up the newspapers again.
Instead, he slumped back into his armchair.
The condition of France's wizarding markets had already been made perfectly clear through the magical photographs in those issues of the French Wizarding Post.
Especially Lionheart Street.
From the very beginning of the Furstenberg Square riot, Lionheart Street, the busiest commercial district in the French magical world, had already become a living hell.
Large numbers of rioters stormed Lionheart Street and began purging everyone they believed to be lackeys of the French Ministry of Magic.
Close behind them came the Dark Wizards who had long been based near Lionheart Street.
Using the rioters as cover, they slipped into Lionheart Street and immediately began looting the place.
By the time the unrest gradually died down, Lionheart Street had almost been reduced to ruins. More than eighty percent of its shops had been smashed, looted, or destroyed. The French magical world's entire commercial system had collapsed, becoming a stronghold occupied by Dark Wizards and rioters.
Using Lionheart Street's unique importance, the rioters bled the French magical world dry while maintaining complete control over public opinion.
So, in a sense, Link Flamel leading his forces to capture Lionheart Street had actually been a good thing. It could even be called a liberation.
At the very least, Lionheart Street was in far better hands under the British Ministry of Magic than under those rioters.
But that only applied to ordinary wizards who had suffered under the rioters and Dark Wizards.
For Norton, it was terrible news.
Almost all of Beauxbatons' supplies came through Lionheart Street.
That supply line had continued even while Lionheart Street was under the rioters' control.
The profits involved were simply too great. Even the rioters couldn't ignore them.
But now those supplies were undoubtedly gone.
The British Ministry of Magic would never aid the enemy just because the profits were high. If Link Flamel found out, whoever did it would be skinned alive!
Frowning, Norton said to Wendel,
"Lower the engagement range of the rifled alchemy cannons. Stop having them target enemies in the air. Conserve as much ammunition as possible. It looks like we won't be getting any more shells for a very long time. I don't want to face Link Flamel when he finally comes only to discover we don't have a single shell left."
"What about the other protective spells?" Wendel nodded. "Should we lower the energy output of the outer barrier as well? That would save some power."
"No, no! That's the one thing we absolutely can't save on. Believe it or not, the moment we lower the barrier's power output, those British Aurors outside will stop pretending and break straight through our defenses."
As soon as Norton finished speaking, another series of explosions came from outside the window.
The expressions of both men changed as they looked up.
Sure enough, Newland and the others were once again streaking across the skies above Beauxbatons, beginning another round of teasing attacks.
This time, however, they went even further than before.
While attacking, they also scattered huge numbers of surrender leaflets over Beauxbatons.
Norton opened the window and hooked a finger lightly.
A flood of leaflets immediately flew into the office on their own.
As he read them, his expression grew darker and darker.
The leaflets didn't just contain the usual messages like "Surrender and you won't be killed." They also included magical illustrations that exaggerated what was happening inside the French Ministry of Magic.
Anyone who still considered themselves a French wizard would grind their teeth in anger after seeing those pictures.
After all, the French Ministry of Magic might have been incompetent, but it was still the symbol that French wizards believed in.
Most importantly, Norton knew that the majority of what those illustrations showed was actually true.
Letting out a long sigh, Norton said wearily,
"This is attacking the mind."
"Headmaster Norton, if this harassment continues, I don't think we'll be able to hold out much longer." Wendel also looked deeply troubled. "This isn't about whether we have enough supplies. The students and professors simply can't withstand this kind of mental assault."
"Wait a little longer... just a little longer. Let me think of something. There has to be a way. There has to be..."
Leaning back in his armchair, Norton waved weakly.
His voice became softer and softer until even Wendel could no longer hear him.
...
"Extra! Extra! Commissioner Link Flamel has led the British Ministry of Magic coalition to capture the French Ministry of Magic! Those French frogs were no match at all! We've won!"
In Diagon Alley, a young man wearing a newsboy cap waved the latest issue of the Daily Prophet as he shouted while running down the street.
There actually weren't many people in Diagon Alley at the moment.
To wage war against the French Ministry of Magic, Link had taken away a large portion of Britain's young and middle-aged men, leaving mostly the elderly, women, and children on the streets.
And even among them, many were in terrible spirits.
After all, their husbands had been thrown into the meat grinder called war. Whether they would ever return was still unknown.
Once the excitement of the beginning had faded and fear of the unknown settled over them again, they naturally directed their resentment toward the British Ministry of Magic.
As a result, the whole of Diagon Alley had become rather lifeless.
Most people walking the streets wore gloomy expressions and hurried along as though rushing off to take revenge.
At a time like this, someone like the young newspaper seller, shouting noisily through the streets, naturally drew plenty of annoyed looks.
It only made everyone's already gloomy mood even worse.
However, once they actually heard what he was shouting, everyone froze.
Wherever the young newspaper seller passed, the streets first fell into sudden silence.
Then, deafening cheers erupted from the surrounding crowd.
Many people began chasing after him, eager to buy the latest edition of the Daily Prophet.
Even more, however, hurried toward nearby shops with Floo Network fireplaces.
They were more rational and knew that newspaper sellers like him served only to spread the news. Buying a copy of the Daily Prophet from him was practically impossible.
The best way to get the latest and most complete information was naturally to hurry home.
After all, for important frontline news like this, the Daily Prophet would certainly take it very seriously. The newspapers carrying the full report had probably already been delivered to their homes.
The commotion outside also reached the Leaky Cauldron.
By now, the Leaky Cauldron had been completely transformed.
Thanks to the Galleons spent by the innkeeper Tom, the goblin construction crew had rebuilt the once-ruined Leaky Cauldron in less than a week.
The new Leaky Cauldron adopted an imitation Viking pirate style, while also incorporating some modern alchemical equipment to improve practicality.
The combination stood out even among the many newly built taverns and teahouses in Diagon Alley.
As a result, the Leaky Cauldron's business had only continued to improve.
Those who hadn't gone to war because of age, disability, or other reasons gathered there almost every day, complaining that Commissioner Link Flamel had failed to recognize their worth while also praying for victory at the front.
Old Tom couldn't have been happier.
After all, there was no better seasoning for a drink than emotion.
"Hoo..."
Taking a deep breath, Tom looked out at the lively scene outside the window, smiled knowingly, then lowered his eyes back to the newspaper in front of him.
As one of the best-informed people in all of Diagon Alley, indeed, in the entire British wizarding world, he had naturally received reports of the French Ministry of Magic's complete collapse long ago.
He had even gotten today's latest edition of the Daily Prophet well ahead of everyone else.