Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 157 You Have No Right to Judge Me (Part 2)

"The trial on February 13th," Fudge said in a booming voice, while the broad-shouldered, square-chinned witch beside him hurriedly began taking notes, "is the trial of Caliban Mortos for violating the Auror Code of Professional Conduct and the International Law of Secrecy."

Interrogator: Minister of Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge

Trial recorder: Dolores Jane Umbridge.

"Defendant: Caliban Mortos."

Fudge picked up a stack of documents and casually pulled out the top one:
“Morthos, as an Auror, I have to admit it.” Fudge cleared his throat, his voice carrying a hint of forced respect, as if someone were forcing him to admit it.

"You have indeed demonstrated a very high level of professionalism in your work."

The cases you solved and the dangerous wizards you apprehended are beyond the capabilities of even our most seasoned Aurors. The entire Ministry of Magic owes you our gratitude.”

Fudge doesn't want to miss it anymore.

Who wrote this lousy draft? Is this some kind of awards ceremony?

"Why did you stop praising me? I'm listening."

Mortos's voice rang out—Fudge heard a soft laugh from the crowd.

"Silence! Silence!" He had to emphasize this again, glaring angrily at the man locked in the iron chair.

"It seems you have no idea what you did wrong! Do you even understand the situation?!"

Fudge took a deep breath and said angrily:
"As an Auror, you should know perfectly well what is illegal, yet you deliberately and knowingly violated the law at 3:12 PM on February 12th in a bustling downtown area inhabited by Muggles! Less than a hundred meters underground! You used powerful magic capable of causing a magnitude 2 earthquake! Morthos, do you have any remorse for what happened?!"

"No need to shout so loudly, I can hear you."

Damon raised an eyebrow, feeling that listening to this idiot was a waste of time—hmm, this iron chair was really uncomfortable. Damon subconsciously leaned back—even though it was a special interrogation chair completely insulated from magic, it was subtly distorted in his mind, and the taut backrest, which was deliberately meant to make people uncomfortable, had extended into a U-shaped cushion.

Everyone saw this scene, and their expressions were strange.

But none of them spoke.

Fudge saw it too, but he convinced himself that it wasn't important and could be ignored.

"Your actions have seriously violated Articles 13 and 17 of the International Federation of Magicians' Secrecy Law, as you know—"

“Before you convict me, I’d like to ask you something—” Damon suddenly interrupted Fudge’s trial, “Since this black market you’re talking about is so close to central London, why has it been able to continue operating there?”

"—What did you say?" Fudge was a little stunned.

It wasn't that I didn't hear him clearly, but he was actually questioning me? A criminal?
"I'm saying, if there wasn't such a huge black market a hundred meters underground in central London, I wouldn't have needed to cause such a commotion, right?"

This time, no one laughed.

Because they sensed what might happen soon, they quietly withdrew their hands from the table and gripped their wands again inside their wide black robes.

"Is this even important!" Fudge's voice echoed through the hall. "We're discussing your problem now, not—"

"Isn't this question important?" Damon replied softly, his attitude still nonchalant.

In the darkness, Dumbledore looked in Damon's direction, a hint of unease creeping onto his face. "Damon, what are you trying to do? In a place like this, are you going to openly defy the entire Ministry of Magic?"

Amelia's expression turned extremely serious—the conversation couldn't continue like this, or everything would fall apart.

“Of course, that’s a problem.” Fudge paused.

He wanted to say it wasn't important, at least not now, but he couldn't say it.

"Isn't it interesting? I was the one who dismantled the criminal organization hiding in central London, but in the end, I'm the criminal?"

Damon's voice continued, but Fudge was the only one speaking to him.

He let out a nasty sneer as he looked around at the Wizengamo members, seemingly hoping they would understand the joke.

"Yeah, yeah, I knew we'd hear this kind of nonsense."

"Do you think that just because the result is just, you can ignore the process? Do you think that just because you caught the black wizard, you can disregard the International Secrecy Act?"

"Morthos, we are not barbarians! We are enforcers, representing the order and image of the entire magical world—your actions are a slap in the face to all of us!"

We are judging precisely your arrogant and conceited attitude!

"Am I the arrogant one?" Damon laughed. "Or is it someone else?"

"Enough, enough!" Fudge interrupted Damon with an arrogant expression. "Morthos, it seems you have no awareness of your crimes and no sense of responsibility. I am sorry and disappointed!"

Therefore, your sentence must be extended!

Now, based on the crimes you have committed, I will sentence you to twenty years in Azkaban! I hope you will serve well during this time—”

"Shut up, Fudge."

Damon scoffed, interrupting him dismissively, a surge of anger rising within him—knowing these people's true colors was one thing, but actually facing them was quite another.

"What did you say? How dare you talk to me like that?" Fudge's face showed surprise, then turned into unprecedented anger!
“A troublemaker—do you know who you're talking to? Do you know who cleans up the mess you've made? Do you know how many messes I've cleaned up for you?”

Fudge's voice roared throughout the hall, a secret delight in his heart—Morthos was so arrogant, perfect, now he would never have a chance to turn things around!
As he spoke, he observed the expressions of the people around him and found that they all looked tense, clearly feeling the same anger as he did!
Yes, Mortos! Go and reflect on your mistakes in Azkaban!

"Enough, Fudge. You're not as great as you think. You didn't save those Muggles. I was the one who saved them."

“Morthos, it seems we can’t reach an agreement?” Fudge’s expression grew increasingly mocking.

He casually spread his hands, convinced he looked dashing—unfortunately, the trial was not open to the public; otherwise, if the photograph had been published, this moment might have been hailed as one of the pivotal moments of the nineteenth century.

“Yes, I am utterly disappointed in you, and in all of you—” Damon’s gaze swept across the room, like a monarch surveying his own territory, “I am utterly disappointed in all of you.”

Wherever his gaze swept, every member of the Wizengamo lowered their head, none daring to meet his eyes.

Why are you still saying that—

"I told you to shut up, Fudge!"

boom!
Suddenly, a pair of leather shoes slammed heavily on the long table, the sound like thunder striking the hearts of everyone present!
They looked up in horror and saw that the shackles binding Mortos were breaking off on their own!

"Thump thump thump thump thump thump!"

Those leather boots were placed on the long table, facing everyone, facing Fudge, trampling everyone's dignity under their feet!

"In Merlin's time! Wise and kind wizards walked among the earth and mountains—" Damon stood on the long table, wandless in his hands, yet with each movement, boundless light shone from them, illuminating the faces of everyone present, their astonishment unmistakable. "—And their first task was to expel the world's villains—fools—and you useless politicians!"

Damon walked up to Fudge and kicked the documents in front of him away.

"Merlin believed that wizards should help Muggles, so he founded the Order of Merlin to advocate for Muggle rights and established rules prohibiting the use of magic against Muggles. The Muggles that the Order of Merlin decided to protect cannot be used by you people to attack me."

"The four giants have emerged from the forest, determined to reform the savage wizards. Your empty brains contain only bloodlines and power—monstrous brains are unworthy to judge me. And I—the reason I do not wish to judge you is out of mercy!"

His voice was not particularly loud, but calm, like that of a deity issuing a decree.

The wizards in the room hurriedly stood up, their hands gripping their wands tightly, but none of them dared to make a move—"Do you think wizards should coexist peacefully with Muggles? We have insurmountable barriers between us."

Damon glanced at the unfamiliar old man in front of him and replied dismissively:

"Your closed-mindedness is the thick barrier that has caused all of this."

"I don't want to hear that evil and justice are two sides of the same coin, existing forever—I want evil to disappear, justice to endure, and all the fools who stand in my way, the maggots in the shadows—no matter what you do, as the wheels of history roll ever onward, you will all be eliminated!"

Damon finished speaking in one breath, and when he saw Fudge's expression, which looked like he had seen a ghost, he couldn't help but burst into laughter.

His gaze swept around, noticing the helplessness and astonishment in Amelia's eyes. As for Dumbledore—he didn't want to look at him anymore; let old Dumbledore think what he wants.

Damon turned and strode away across the long table.

At this moment, he felt an unprecedented sense of exhilaration. The increase in power allowed him to finally ignore the constraints of these fools, and he gradually found his own direction—the reason he practiced magic was to make his wishes come true!

It's not magic that makes your wishes come true, but using magic to make your wishes come true!
What he likes, he keeps.

What he doesn't like, he lets fend for itself.

What he dislikes should disappear.

A white, eyeless dragon roared out from his body, but at this moment, the dragon no longer seemed devoid of any spirit as before. Golden vertical pupils had appeared on its surface without anyone noticing!

The Guardian Angel Spell and this moment have finally come to a perfect conclusion.

It's simply because Damon has realized what he wants to protect—the struggle between wizards and Muggles will happen sooner or later—what he wants to protect is his 'self' who once had a Muggle identity, and at the same time, his 'future' who has a wizard identity.

His advanced vision made him realize that the exposure of wizards was inevitable, and the development of Muggles would eventually make wizards tremble with fear—even Dumbledore might not be able to stop this war.

But Damon can do it, and only he can.

His job was to gradually guide everything onto the right track.

However, let's just let all of this happen slowly. At least in my current capacity, it's impossible.

Mortos, it's time to leave the stage.

"Morthos! Where are you going!"

Suddenly someone spoke up and asked.

"I am not welcome here, but there are places that will welcome me. But be careful, because I will be watching you."

This time he really left.

No one dared to stop him, even after Mortos's figure had completely disappeared, Fudge's voice rang out, "Striker! Where's the Auror! Grab him!"

"I'm going to issue a level-one arrest warrant for him! How dare he! How dare he!"

"Shut up, Fudge."

Upon hearing the familiar tone, Fudge instinctively flinched, but he quickly realized that the person who had terrified him was gone, and he was the ultimate victor!
So he looked in the direction of the voice and questioned:

"Who's telling me, the Minister of Magic, to shut up? Has the Ministry of Magic become a place where justice is completely ignored?"

“He’s right, shut up, Fudge.”

This time it was a member of the Wissenga membrane.

He didn't even look at Fuguita, who was still staring in the direction Mortos had left. "We should let him lead everything."

"It might be painful, but as he said, it was all destined to happen, and no one could stop him."

Fudge looked warily at the two elders who had spoken, his expression grim, but he remained silent.

After its dramatic highs and lows, the trial left nothing but a mess.

Many people then realized that, even now, they were still tightly clutching their magic wands, though they dared not cast a single spell on Morthos.

In front of that person, their wands offered them no sense of security.

For the first time, they realized just how much pressure those Death Eaters had to endure when facing that man. No wonder more and more Death Eaters have been trying to completely erase the Dark Mark lately.

To those people, wasn't Morthos just like a commoner wizard facing Voldemort during wartime?

"I go first."

Someone let out a disappointed sigh and left on their own.

Even before Fudge announced the end of the meeting, there should still be some follow-up discussions about this trial—for example, whether to issue an arrest warrant for Mortos, and the fact that they have lost an ace hitter.

But nobody's in the mood to discuss these things anymore.

"Yeah, I'm going back too. I'm not in the mood to go to work today. I don't want to be a foolish politician."

Someone let out a self-deprecating laugh and walked away with their arm around the first person's shoulder.

As Fudge watched the crowd depart, he felt power slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do.
He instinctively searched for Dumbledore in the crowd. "Dumbledore, look!"

Fudge breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dumbledore walking towards him.

But to his surprise, the old man only said one sentence to him before leaving.

"It's all over now. I'm going to focus on celebrating Valentine's Day. Don't contact me anytime soon."

"Valentine's Day? Dumbledore? What kind of Valentine's Day are you going to celebrate!"

Fudge shouted at Dumbledore's retreating figure, but the venerable old man paid him no further attention.

(End of this chapter)