Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 136 Everyone started applauding.

At one moment, a sparse round of applause broke out, then thundered in the next second, before quickly ceasing.

Dumbledore, whom everyone had been eagerly awaiting, finally appeared—and he refused Fudge's request for a private conversation, which nearly drove the Minister of Magic mad.

He didn't understand why Dumbledore's attitude towards him had changed subtly, nor did he understand what trick Dumbledore was up to.

Below the stands, his expression was somber and anxious—depending on what Dumbledore had said, he might consider deploying Dementors to control the school.

In the stands, Dumbledore smiled as he supported a wheelchair in front of him—on which sat the white-haired Lockhart.

Yes, he was still alive, but it was no different from being dead—Voldemort's curse power against the Dark Arts was completely poured into Lockhart. Strictly speaking, Voldemort was not resurrected at that time; he merely used the power of the curse to amplify Lockhart's negative emotions step by step. After gaining further control over Lockhart, he used the Imperius Curse to strengthen this control, ultimately combining it with the power of the Basilisk and draining Lockhart's life force to achieve the previous effect.

According to Mrs. Pomfrey, Professor Lockhart might not live more than two weeks.

He didn't seem to be in good spirits either; the Imperius Curse had almost destroyed his brain. Now, sitting in a wheelchair, he was cheering loudly because of the previous applause, looking like an excited monkey.

"Are they cheering for me? I'm so famous, haha~ Whew~~~!"

Lockhart was so happy in front of everyone that he almost danced, leaving the audience stunned. Some of the ladies who admired him were on the verge of tears.

They had already anticipated some kind of tragedy.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Lockhart's shoulder—which quickly calmed him down.

"Dear friends."

Dumbledore's voice was as clear and calm as ever.

"As you can see, this is a tragedy."

Dumbledore didn't portray Lockhart as a tragic hero, and Damon guesses he simply didn't want to.

He simply recounted everything that had happened in the secret chamber, explaining Myrtle's death and clearing Hagrid's name.

Then, under Fudge's stern questioning, he connected Lockhart with the terrifyingly mysterious figure, revealing a truth that shocked and terrified everyone present—at some point, Voldemort had returned using the curse of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Impossible! This is impossible!"

Fudge's neck veins were clearly visible; he had decided to take control of the place—he simply could not accept the news of Voldemort's return!

Fortunately, Dumbledore's next words dispelled his fear.

"Don't worry, I've defeated him again."

Dumbledore gazed calmly at Fudge, a hint of deep disappointment flashing beneath his azure eyes—Fudge was indeed not the right person.

He might be a conservative figure who maintains the status quo in peacetime for the sake of his honor and reputation, but he would only be a burden once Voldemort returns.

But who else can we choose?
Dumbledore's mood soured, and he immediately convinced himself not to think about it for the time being.

"Then what about the Fiery Blaze? Was the Fiery Blaze...was it emitted by the mysterious person?"

Questions began to be asked from the audience, all of whom were distinguished guests sitting in the first three rows.

"Yes."

"Hogwarts is hiding such a dangerous secret, Headmaster Dumbledore. Can we still trust the school's safety?"

“I’m very sorry that this happened, but I assure you that there are no such places on campus anymore and that nothing like this will happen again.”

Even Dumbledore's assurances seemed somewhat powerless at this moment.

"How can we believe you? How can we believe everything you say? This is all your own opinion!"

"The school board member, Lucius Malfoy, is shouting, his face even more ashen than Fudge's, utterly devoid of color—that sir has actually returned briefly? He's not completely dead?! If Voldemort were to return one day, how would they, the 'traitors,' face themselves?"

Not only him, but many people's faces turned grim—the rise of Caliban Mortos was already a headache for them, and now there was something even more troubling.
“If I am not enough on my own, I also have a respected master who went through this with me. I think that will be more convincing.”

Dumbledore looked down at the audience, and Damon walked onto the stage at his invitation.

When Damon took the stage, there was another gasp from the audience, and the flashbulbs kept going off—both Dumbledore and Master White were people who rarely showed this side of themselves.

"That's right, Professor Dumbledore and I fought Voldemort together."

Damon calmly uttered the name 'Voldemort,' causing those in the stands to clutch their hearts in disbelief.

"Dumbledore, he's just a child, and you actually let a child vouch for you!"

Fudge, who had been praising Master White, stepped forward again, but this time the great master he had been praising had become a child who had accomplished nothing.

But he is the only one.

Anyone who has read Damon’s paper published in Transfiguration Today would never consider him a child.

In fact, this was the first time many of them had ever seen Damon—and how to put it, he was exactly as they had imagined, even better than they had imagined.

Apart from Fudge, no one was willing to doubt that such a person could lie, especially when he was standing with Dumbledore.

"Master White, do you mean Dumbledore brought you, a second-year student, along to face that terrible fellow?"

Another reporter spoke up from the audience, and Damon glanced at her—exquisite, stiff curls paired with a face with a large chin—it was Rita Skeeter.

No wonder he said such inflammatory things.

Faced with her questioning of his abilities and insults to Dumbledore's character, Damon did not respond, but simply snapped his fingers.

No wand, no spell, just a snap of the fingers.

The ground behind him instantly rose two meters high, transforming into a sculpture—Lockhart with a human head and a snake's body, his body flowing with stone flames that looked as if he were burning, while opposite him stood Dumbledore with a calm expression.

He chose to respond with actions.

"But what does that prove—"

"Shut up, you idiot!"

Clearly, Rita Skeeter couldn't grasp the significance of this weaponless transformation, but many others in the room understood—the earlier incident where the hook-nosed old man angrily stopped Rita, then stared wide-eyed at Damon's back.

Someone recognized him—the president of the Transfiguration Society, a position the old man had held for fifty years since Dumbledore stepped down.

His roar was clearly powerful.

The atmosphere suddenly became quiet and eerie.

Those who didn't understand were completely bewildered, while those who did understand were trembling with fear—Master White had already mastered Transfiguration to this extent? What was that just saying? Oh, he was just a second-year student, but he and Dumbledore fought Voldemort together.

Second grade?
"Clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap

The young wizards in the audience didn't understand what was happening, but that didn't stop them from supporting Damon.

So they started clapping.

As a result, those who were confused became even more confused, while those who understood became even happier.

Everyone started clapping.

(End of this chapter)