The Christmas Gift

Some time ago, the news of a break-in at Azkaban had stirred up quite a commotion, and Artel was well aware of it. Later, he learned that the individual responsible had been ruthlessly tormented by the madwoman in Slatrange. The Ministry of Magic in London had to put in considerable effort to secretly imprison the person with the consent of the International Confederation of Wizards. Rumor had it that even the great Dumbledore himself had paid a personal visit.

Now, the elderly wizard standing before Artel claimed that this person was his friend—a Hobbit?

Munch, the on-duty guard, eyed Artel cautiously, sensing that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary individual.

Artel observed the guard's changing expressions, smiled subtly, and spoke in a low voice:

"So, can you let me meet my friend?"

"Sorry, your friend is currently not available for visitation. If you wish to see him, please wait until the working day to register again. This matter is now under the jurisdiction of the Department of Mysteries..."

Munch's words were cut short as he saw the old wizard across from him raise his scepter.

"What are you planning?"

Munch held his wand, fixated on Artel, ready to release magic at the first sign of trouble.

"You are now suspected of trespassing at the Ministry of Magic and attempting to harm Ministry of Magic officers. Drop your wand immediately!"

Munch barked, and Artel grinned.

The scepter in his hand gently touched the ground, and an old voice echoed in Munch's ear:

"Don't be so tense, young one. I'm just here to visit a friend. Since it's inconvenient now, that's fine. But it's Christmas Eve tonight, and since I'm here, I'll bring some presents."

Artel surveyed the golden hall with its gleaming dark wood floors and peacock blue ceiling, saying:

"The Christmas spirit is a bit lacking here, so let me gift you a Christmas tree."

Artel's wand emitted a humming sound, and Munch felt that something was amiss. He shouted, "What are you doing? Stop... oh! Merlin's beard, what is this?"

A white layer enveloped Artel's body as he cast a protective light shield spell on himself. Through the system, he summoned the giant oak at his side.

As an Ent, the giant oak stood at five meters tall, with a human face and a tree-like body. Its tan eyes emitted occasional flashes of dark green light, hinting at a subtle yet menacing fury.

Munch had never encountered such a creature, but he harbored no doubts about its destructive potential.

"Merry Christmas."

Artel greeted the astonished Munch, then directed his scepter towards the statue of the Magic Brothers in the center of the hall. Activating the power of the Ring of Air, Artel used magic to leave a message on it.

[Merry Christmas to the Ministry of Magic in London - Saruman of the White Council]

Having accomplished this, Artel smiled at Munch, and then his figure vanished. Only now did Munch react, swiftly pressing the emergency alarm under the inspection table.

Meanwhile, the giant oak fully awakened.

Having spent considerable time in Artel's system space, its head felt a bit foggy. It wasn't until it breathed in fresh air that it gradually regained awareness.

Of course, this fresh air was relative to the enclosed environment of the system space. It was undoubtedly incomparable to the air of Fagon Forest.

The giant oak opened its eyes, discomfort evident in its reaction to the grand halls of the Ministry of Magic. The roaring fireplaces surrounding it inexplicably angered the creature.

"This is not Falgon Forest... Where is this?"

Doubt tinged the voice of the giant oak. The folds of bark on its face shifted as it noticed Munch, who stood guard with caution.

"Humanity?"

The giant oak's voice whispered, reminiscent of a terrifying giant.

"It's your conspiracy again! Send me back to Fagon Forest; this place... stinks!!"

The giant oak roared loudly, its eyes flashing with a green light. The two branches wrapped around its arms raised high and slammed into the security checkpoint in front of Munch.

In the blink of an eye, the once mundane security checkpoint transformed into a chaotic spectacle.

"Damn it!"

Munch hastily cast a protective armor on himself, the residual shock still ringing in his ears. Coughing, he cautiously raised his wand, hesitating to cast any spells on the colossal oak. The fear of provoking the formidable entity held him back.

Alone in the chaos, Munch harbored no intentions of sacrificing himself for the Ministry of Magic, especially on this splendid night of the Christmas Eve.

As the emergency alarms blared, guards from other floors rushed to the scene, witnessing the destruction wrought by the giant oak. Expressions shifted from anger to confusion, then to outright panic.

"Merlin's..."

"Alert the director and the minister!"

"Get in touch with the Auror office!"

Several guards on duty shouted, yet none dared to approach. A brave soul attempted a fire-making spell on the oak, igniting a small flame on its towering crown.

"Fire?"

The giant oak paused momentarily, its branches and leaves quivering.

"Damn flames! Damn humans!"

A thunderous roar echoed, and the oak's limbs whipped like furious whips. The hall's decorations, walls, and anything the giant oak touched crumbled to pieces instantly.

The guard who cast the fire-making spell found himself the target of the behemoth. As the colossal oak bore down on him, terror seized the guard.

"Super armor protection!"

In the nick of time, a voice echoed in the guard's ear. His vision blurred into white, followed by a sharp pain, and then he was sent flying, unconscious and sprawled on the ground.

.....

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