Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 139 The Journey to Azkaban
It wasn't until Vaughn told her the price that Mrs. Granger calculated Hermione's annual Galleon allowance and the cost of textbooks for the new school year before regretfully giving up.

Vaughn was willing to lend them Galleons, or exchange them for pounds at Gringotts' exchange rate.

But the Grangers, who already knew that pounds were worthless in the wizarding world, firmly disagreed, believing that it would put Vaughn at a great disadvantage.

Finally had to give up.

After playing with Guoguocha for a while, Mom was still packing up. More and more clothes and personal items were being summoned, and Arthur was about to collapse. He desperately tried to wink at Vaughn.

But Vaughn was powerless to help.

No one in this family could defy Molly Weasley's will, and no one could refuse Molly Weasley's boundless love!

To avoid becoming a clothes hanger and suffering the same fate as Arthur, Vaughn quickly carried the fruit tea back upstairs.

However, instead of returning to his own room, he delivered the fruit tea to Ginny's room and then gently opened the door to Ron's bedroom.

This was his main purpose in returning to his humble abode.

Ron's room wasn't big. Before he was eight, it was actually the two brothers' shared bedroom, and even after Vaughn moved out, the original furnishings were still kept.

Two beds were placed on either side of the room. Ron was fast asleep on the bed by the window. The floor and the other bed were piled with all sorts of clutter. There were several posters of Charlie's Artillery Corps on the wall, and because they had been there for so long, the magic had gradually worn off, and the images flickered like a broken television.

On the bedside table, there was an iron cage, with Banban curled up inside.

As if hearing someone open the door, the fat rat stirred and woke up from its dream.

Then he saw Vaughn, and the hair on his body stood on end as if he had been electrocuted. He opened his mouth to scream, to warn Ron—the demon was coming!
However, he didn't even have time to utter a sound.

"Legilimency!"

A faint silver light flashed and disappeared in the room. Banban froze in place, all emotion vanishing from her small, dark eyes, leaving only a blank and confused state of mind as if her mind had been controlled.

Vaughn smiled, twirled his wand as he walked in, opened the cage, and a levitation charm pulled Scabbers out of the cage, suspending him in front of him. Then he tapped his wand lightly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve processed your memories. Let me see what you’ve been thinking about lately, Peter?”

In the bedroom shrouded in night, large swaths of silvery-white mist were pulled out from the body of a suspended fat rat.

Amidst the swirling mist, glimpses of images could be vaguely seen flashing by.

There were also scattered, rustling whispers.

"...Master, he's alive! My master is alive..."

“Vaughn Weasley, that horrible monster, he killed his master…”

"...I'm sorry, Harry..."

"I want to run away! I want to run away! Why...why do I want to run away? Why?"

"Who am I? Am I a mouse? No...no, I am Peter Pettigrew, I...yes, I am a mouse..."

They are so chaotic and disorderly, as if they are being interfered with, distorted and corrected by some inexplicable force every second, making them unable to form a system and only able to wander in memory as random thoughts.

From Vaughn's perspective, the existence of this interference is perfectly reasonable.

A faint, hazy net was visible, deeply embedded in the smoke drawn from Peter's body. It was this net that extended countless mycelium-like tentacles, connecting with and influencing Peter's memories and consciousness.

This is a personality suit that Vaughn tailored specifically for Peter!

He stretched out his wand, the tip swirling in the mist of memories, and when he pulled it out, the net was also pulled out.

A faint silver-blue light shone in Vaughn's pupils as he stared at the net, countless images flashing through his eyes.

Soon, Peter's memories and thoughts from the past month were laid bare before him.

Before long, the eerie light in his pupils went out, and Vaughn nodded in satisfaction: "It runs very stably and has a good concealment effect. It borrows some effects from the Confusion Charm and reasonably disrupts Peter's own thoughts. He didn't even notice anything unusual."

"However, there is still room for improvement. The efficiency of locking 'keywords' is still a bit low. It cannot immediately disassemble and block thoughts and memories according to the 'blacklist,' which means that Peter can still occasionally recall his identity. The next step is to strengthen this filtering function..."

Of course, that doesn't have to be done right now.

Thinking about it, he casually reached into the haze of Peter's memories, and the many whispered words instantly turned into silver specks of light, which he held in his hand.

Give it a firm squeeze.

Crack!

With a faint sound, all the silver light spots vanished.

The deeper one delves into memory magic, the more fragile a person's memories and thoughts become to Vaughn.

After calmly completing all of this, modifying and erasing Peter's memories of himself that night, Vaughn stuffed the "net" back into the memory smoke and dragged the smoke back into Peter's head.

The fat rat remained frozen in place, dazed.

Vaughn took out a camera, took a picture of him, and then put him back in the cage.

"You should be glad you still have some use..."

With a cold whisper, Vaughn left the bedroom.

In fact, ever since he showed hostility toward Peter, the fat rat had been trying to escape, so after learning Legilimency, Vaughn's first experiment was not on Harry, but on Peter.

The traitor who truly caused the deaths of James and Lily had actually been having his memories manipulated for the past six months, though he himself was unaware of it.

That was also one of Vaughn's methods to limit him.

Otherwise, if an Animagus is determined to escape, it would be really difficult to defend against.

……

The next day, Warn prepared a developing solution and developed the photographs.

Molly had also packed her "luggage".

The worry and love from his mother were fully reflected in the mountain of clothes and supplies. If Vaughn hadn't had a small, large-capacity handbag, he probably wouldn't have known how to fit them all in.

Then, in the afternoon, just as Arthur and Molly had predicted, Vaughn received a letter from Dumbledore informing him that his application to go to Azkaban had been approved and inviting him to meet at the Ministry of Magic.

[...The Ministry of Magic will send officials to accompany you; this is a necessary procedure...]

Dumbledore wrote in the letter.

But Vaughn suspected that it was likely a trick by Fudge.

Sure enough, when he arrived at the Ministry of Magic via the fireplace, he saw Fudge, with his belly protruding and his clothes buttoned tightly, standing next to Dumbledore, speaking loudly, with several people dressed as reporters nearby.
“...Normally, we don’t allow any private individuals to visit Azkaban, but who can refuse Dumbledore? He is so respected that his request wouldn’t even reach my desk; there are always people below making things easy for him…”

Hearing that, Vaughn chuckled.

After several setbacks, it seems that the dear minister has changed his strategy again, preparing to put himself in a relatively weak position in an attempt to arouse public resentment towards Dumbledore's domineering nature and sympathy for him.

They are truly indomitable.

It's a pity. If he had put that energy into developing the magical world instead of fighting, Vaughn probably wouldn't have been his enemy.

But that's just how political creatures are.

Their thinking has become fixed; they've gotten used to playing games with the ball of yarn, like a dung beetle protecting the dung ball under its belly, thinking it's the most precious treasure in the world!
Upon seeing Vaughn, Fudge's face darkened for a moment, but as expected, he ignored him, even pretending that Vaughn didn't exist.

This is quite normal. Being expelled from the courtroom by a 12-year-old wizard using magic is hardly a good reputation, and the more he cares about it, the more people like to talk about it.

It's better to ignore it!
Vaughn ignored him and stood aside, watching him jump around with guns blazing, until even the reporters started to get impatient, before finally stopping, still not quite done.

Watching the minister leave, surrounded by a group of people, head held high, Vaughn complained to Dumbledore, "If I were you, I wouldn't allow this clown to sit in the minister's position. His presence is of no benefit whatsoever."

Dumbledore certainly understood this principle as well.

But he was also helpless: "Take him down is easy, but who can replace him?"

Vaughan was speechless.

In theory, both Amelia and Rufus Scrimgeour are suitable; they are both very capable, but they lack a bit of experience.

But in the magical world, seniority is the most important thing.

If we only consider ability, then with so many departments under the Ministry of Magic, I'm afraid no one would submit to anyone else—and since there's no standard for ability, why should you be better than me?
Only qualifications are visible to the naked eye!

Connelly Fudge was able to come to power because, after Buddy Crouch withdrew from the race, only Fudge's qualifications left no room for criticism.

"Alright, my dear, let's not talk about these depressing topics anymore." Dumbledore's expression quickly brightened again, and he raised his arms, gesturing for Vaughn and the Ministry of Magic official who was pretending to be mute to grab them: "It's time to get going. I haven't been to Azkaban in ages, and I'm quite excited about it!"

Vaughn rolled his eyes at him and grabbed his arm.

Once everything was ready, with a crackling sound, the three of them twisted and disappeared into the air.

A few seconds later, in the North Sea, thousands of miles away from London.

On a magically shrouded island in the vast sea between England and Denmark, three people emerge from thin air.

After recovering from the brief dizziness of the long journey, Vaughn saw a vast, endless ocean before him.

The waves rise and fall.

The deep-colored sea stretched towards the horizon, merging with the cloud-covered sky.

The sky was devoid of sunlight, blending seamlessly with the monotonous sea surface, making everything appear as if shrouded in gray.

Like a cold wind blowing in your face, it brings no warmth to your body or your eyes.

Even the coastline beneath our feet is a mudflat with jagged rocks.

"Gentlemen, welcome to Azkaban!"

The nameless Ministry of Magic official, arms outstretched, tried to force a smile, seemingly hoping to lighten the mood.

But the strong sea breeze made him cough repeatedly.

Ignoring his embarrassed and disheveled appearance, Vaughn turned around, looked at the small island behind him—monotonous, gray, and cold—as opposed to the ocean and sky, and curled his lip: "It should be 'Welcome to Hell'!"

As far as the eye can see, this island, surrounded by oceans, has no greenery whatsoever, not even a speck of soil.

Everywhere there were dark, oddly shaped stones.

They extend from the coast into the interior of the island, pressing and stacking against each other to form bare "hills," with the terrain rising higher and higher towards the center.

At the edge of the field of vision, a precipitous cliff rises abruptly from the ground, like a blade pointing to the sky. A huge stone fortress stands on the cliff, shrouded in clouds and mist.

Hearing Vaughn's complaint, Dumbledore smiled and said, "Yes, this place is indeed hell. Promise me, my dear, never be locked up here."

"Okay, you too, Albus!"

After retorting to Dumbledore, Vaughn turned to the Ministry of Magic official and asked, "Hey you, aren't you going to notify the prison?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley!"

The poor, unlucky official, who had no desire to participate in the power struggles of the big shots but was forcibly sent by the minister, hurriedly agreed while pulling out his magic wand and pointing it to the sky.

The red magic signal flew into the air and exploded.

With this signal, a muffled horn sounded from the fortress perched on the cliff in the distance.

Before long, several wizards riding brooms flew over, escorting a carriage.

"Hell Island and Thestral carriage, what a wonderful combination."

Dumbledore spoke cheerfully, as if nothing could affect him, and he turned and waved to Vaughn: "Come, my dear, Azkaban is about to unveil its mysteries to you!"

Vaughn ignored his teasing and just looked at the wizards flying in. "Albus, are you sure Fudge won't set some trap in Azkaban and lock us up?"

Dumbledore laughed heartily: "Ha ha, he doesn't have the guts!"

The Ministry of Magic officials broke out in a cold sweat and echoed, "Yes, Minister, you absolutely did not... uh, you would never do such a thing, I assure you, Mr. Weasley."

Vaughn remained noncommittal: "Anyway, let me make this clear from the start: I will not hand over my wand, nor will I allow the Aurors to search me. Sir, you'd better talk to your colleagues first to avoid any unpleasantness later."

Dumbledore smiled and remained silent, letting Vaughn "bully others with his power".

"Yes, of course, I will communicate; that's my responsibility."

The official kept wiping away sweat.

It's not that he lacks mental fortitude; everyone in the Ministry of Magic knows that Vaughn Weasley is arrogant, domineering, and possesses formidable magical abilities.

Even the Minister dared to unleash a curse and blast him out of the courtroom.

He didn't dare to provoke the other party. What if they were in a bad mood and cast a curse on him? Who would he be able to reason with then?

Hoping for good fortune?

forget it!
With a feeling of frustration and trepidation, the official hurriedly stepped forward to negotiate as the wizard and carriage approached from afar.

After a friendly exchange, he returned in high spirits: "I have accomplished my mission, gentlemen. There was no search, and you don't need to hand over your wands. Please get in the carriage, and we will depart immediately!"

Having successfully defused a potential conflict, the official's mood improved. He warmly invited Dumbledore and Vaughn into the carriage, even sharing a broomstick with an Auror to make the two distinguished guests more comfortable. Therefore, he had no idea that the two guests, once inside the carriage, held him and his current predicament in rather low regard.

“There are loopholes everywhere. As the most secure prison in England, the screening of visitors is so lax. After arguing with a Ministry of Magic official, he actually agreed to my request, which was clearly not in accordance with the regulations!”

As he watched the scenery outside the window gradually recede into the distance, Vaughn narrowed his eyes slightly.

Dumbledore's smile faded, and he sighed, but still defended him, saying, "It's mainly because of the Dementors. With them around, no one can escape Azkaban..."

“Really not?” Vaughn interrupted him.

Dumbledore was speechless.

Since Barty Crouch joined Vaughn, Dumbledore had guessed the hidden story behind it and naturally understood that there was something fishy about Barty Crouch Jr.'s "death" in Azkaban a few years ago, and it was probably a smokescreen.

He paused for a moment, then asked, "What do you intend to do with this question?"

He didn't believe Vaughn would care about the Azkaban system.

When asked, Vaughn didn't hide anything: "Fudge is too annoying, I need to find him something to do!"

For example, convene the Wizengamo Conference and question the Ministry of Magic about the loopholes in Azkaban's system. If someone manages to escape, that would be even better!
……

In the dark, cold depths of the prison, in a cell.

When the horn sounded, Sirius Black, who was huddled in the corner, stirred. He looked up at the skylight, which was only about half a foot square, and the faint light was the only source of light in the entire room.

During his more than ten years in prison, apart from the sea breeze blowing in through the skylight and the howling of the madmen around him, he rarely heard any other sounds.

The bugle call wouldn't sound for several years at a time.

"Is it some big shot putting on a show again?"

he thinks.

Those political animals always like to do meaningless things, such as caring for criminals. But who among those who are locked up here deserves such care?

Especially that idiot Minister of Magic who came to power the year before last, he comes here every year, shouting about human rights while standing nervously outside the cages to take photos with these criminals.

hypocritical!

Of course, apart from him, the other criminals in Azkaban still liked Fudge.

When facing the camera, that idiot would always fulfill their small requests, bringing them newspapers, chocolates, or something similar. Although they couldn't escape hell, it was still some consolation.

Just then, Sirius heard a madwoman's voice from deep in the corridor: "Hehehehe—Fudge, dear Fudge, is that you?"

The laughter, carrying the melody of a children's song, echoed through the dark prison, sending chills down one's spine.

"Bella, shut up!"

An Auror on guard shouted a reprimand.

But the woman named Bella didn't care at all, and continued to laugh loudly and shrilly, the piercing sound echoing in the dark corridor like the hooting of an owl.

The guard, probably enraged, chanted a spell, and a few faint flashes of lightning illuminated the darkness.

crackling and popping...

The sounds of electric shocks hitting the body, the sounds of convulsions, suppressed screams, and then, after the screams, even more maniacal laughter.

"Hehehehe—a little harder, my little cutie, hahaha—"

This dark space is like a purgatory.

madman!

Sirius thought indifferently that he knew that crazy woman, Bellatrix Lestrange. Lestrange was her surname after she got married; her original surname was Black, and she was his cousin.

But that doesn't stop Sirius from being hostile to the other side.

In his mind, Bellatrix was a madman, a psychopath, and a loyal lackey of the Dark Lord. Ever since the day she joined the Dark Lord's ranks, the so-called kinship no longer existed in his eyes—in fact, their relationship had always been quite ordinary.

The Black family was never a warm and welcoming one; like all old things, it reeked of decay.

He hated everything about it from a young age. He hated its outdated and strict rules, loathed the rottenness beneath its glamorous surface, and loathed the twisted people cultivated by that corrupt and stinking system!
Bella is one of the best among them.

Madness, perversion, brutality...

These terms, which would never appear in a normal person, are her labels.

A few more flashes of lightning lit up the distance, Bella's screams and maniacal laughter continued, and the prisoners in the surrounding cells began to clamor.

Whistling.

The same manic laughter.

For a time, it was like a chaotic dance of demons.

The guard was furious: "Madmen! Madmen! You want to see the merciful Minister Fudge and expect him to bring you some amusement? Dream on! This time it's Dumbledore, the wizard your dead master fears most!"

Dumbledore!

The name seemed to possess some kind of magic; the howling corridor immediately fell silent, and even Sirius Black, who was numb and had lost all will to live, couldn't help but raise his head.

As if in response to the guard's words, a faint yet incredibly clear whooshing sound of a speeding car came from outside.

"Did you hear that? You scum, that's the Thestrals sent to pick up Dumbledore!"

Sirius, leaning against the damp, slippery stone wall, struggled to his feet and looked up at the small skylight above. The background there was still the same as usual, densely covered with gray clouds.

But there are differences.

In the gray sky, a flying chariot glided smoothly by. The carriages used to welcome guests were all marked with magical symbols to indicate the identity of the passengers. At this moment, the shield-shaped emblem of Hogwarts was outlined on the surface of the carriage.

Sirius stared blankly, not looking away even after the carriage had disappeared.

Perhaps it was because of Dumbledore's intimidating presence.

Outside the cell, the place returned to its usual lifeless state, and even Bella, who had been provoking the Aurors, remained silent.

The Auror cursed and scolded a few more times before continuing his patrol, gradually approaching.

Sirius, who had been lost in thought, suddenly snapped out of it. He limped over to the cell door, gripped the bars with both hands, and tried to press his head close to the gaps in the fence.

The Auror holding the Fluorescent Charm was startled; Sirius's appearance was truly terrifying under the faint light of the Charm.

After more than a decade of imprisonment, his body had long since deteriorated. Now he was emaciated, almost skin and bones, with sunken eye sockets and prominent eyeballs and cheekbones.

Having never seen sunlight for years, his skin was sickly white and covered with years of accumulated dirt, while his eye circles were an even more sickly scarlet.

At that moment, his wide-eyed expression resembled that of a corpse crawling out of a grave.

Auror roared angrily, "What are you doing? Go back!"

Sirius remained unmoved, only opening his mouth, his voice dry: "Dumbledore... what are you doing in Azkaban?"

"It's none of your business. What, do you expect Dumbledore to save you? Give up. You killed James Potter, and Dumbledore has already shown mercy by not killing you with his own hands!"

...Yes, I killed James...

Sirius thought slowly, then gradually let go of his hand and curled back into the corner.

For over a decade, the self-blame, guilt, and regret that had plagued him resurfaced. If he hadn't been so clever back then, replacing him with Peter as the custodian of the Potter mansion, then…

He buried his disheveled head deep in his knees.

Yes, I deserve it... I deserve to die here...

……

The Thestral carriage circled the fortress several times before finally stopping on the rooftop terrace.

The Auror squad stationed in Azkaban, led by their squad leader, warmly welcomed Dumbledore, dressed in white robes, and... Vaughn, dressed in Wizengamot attire!

In fact, when the carriage door opened and he saw that iconic purple-red robe, the Auror squad leader named Wayne's face turned green.

But circumstances forced him to force a smile: "Welcome Dumbledore, welcome... esteemed member of the Wizengamot, Mr. Vaughn Weasley, welcome to Azkaban!"

As if oblivious to the forced look on his face, Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully: "Ah, Wayne Wright, good boy, I was just wondering who the Auror in charge of Azkaban is... My dear, it's been ten years since you graduated, hasn't it?"

“Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore…”

The squad leader was pulled aside by the respected headmaster for pleasantries, leaving the other Aurors to attend to Vaughn. They then discovered that this little fellow, who had specially changed into a crimson robe in the carriage, was indeed difficult to serve:
"The fortress looks very clean!"

This is what Vaughn said to one of the Aurors beside him after surveying the area around the fortress.

The Auror was initially quite pleased, repeatedly stating modestly, "Only a clean environment can be beneficial..."

Then he was interrupted by Vaughn: "I mean, where are the Dementors?"

The Auror was a little confused: "Mr. Weasley, this..."

Vaughn didn't even look at him, but continued aggressively, "Aren't Dementors Azkaban's jailers? Where are they? I thought I'd see a bunch of tattered robes flying around as soon as I got off the train, but sir, please look around. If I wasn't sure Dumbledore wouldn't have made a mistake, I would have thought I was at a Muggle beach!"

Sweat beaded on Auror's forehead as he pressed her for answers.

"Uh... Dementors are monsters after all, and we're afraid they might offend our two distinguished guests..."

Before he could finish speaking, he saw Vaughn snap his fingers, and a quill pen and a piece of parchment flew out of his robe.

He heard Vaughn coldly order: "Write this down. In Azkaban, the Dementors can be temporarily removed in order to welcome superiors or so-called distinguished guests!"

The Auror was almost numb: "Wait, Mr. Weasley..."

But Vaughn ignored him and walked toward the fortress.

Although stationed in the North Sea, far from England.

But the Aurors are not isolated from information. It's not just the Daily Prophet that's driven by a frenzy for sales, claiming to deliver freshly printed newspapers from the North and South Poles.

The fact that internal communication was not prohibited was enough for the Aurors to learn about the major and minor events in the magical world on this isolated island far from civilization.

According to regulations, Azkaban is not allowed to communicate with the outside world without authorization, but since Fouché came to power, such regulations have long been ineffective. In order to win over various departments to support his rise to power and prevent them from being outwardly compliant but inwardly defiant, Fouché's cabinet of ministers has made huge concessions.

As long as you are obedient, even if you slack off at work or date, the kind-hearted minister can pretend not to see it!

The same applies to small-scale internal communications.

Therefore, these Aurors who have been stationed in Azkaban for two years are actually very familiar with Vaughn.

After all, for the past year, he has not only been a regular in the Daily Prophet, but also the undisputed protagonist in many rumors circulating within the Ministry of Magic.

For example, slapping Fudge in the face, playing with Fudge, beating up Fudge, etc.

But before that, since I had never met him, I didn't really have a real feeling about him, and I felt that the descriptions of Vaughn Weasley in the rumors were a bit exaggerated.

How arrogant can a 12-year-old wizard be?

Today, they've truly had their eyes opened!

"Records: Azkaban is isolated overseas, and the local authorities are suspected of dereliction of duty, failing to impose any restrictions on prison visitors..."

This was his instruction to the automatic quill and parchment when the Aurors did not stop him from entering the criminal detention area.

When the Aurors realized what was happening and tried to stop him, their double standards were simply dazzling:
"Records indicate that Azkaban, isolated overseas, seems to be operating outside the Ministry of Magic's control, obstructing Wizengamot members' surprise inspections in every way possible, suggesting ulterior motives..."

Local management department: "..."

Have you said both the good and the bad things?

After this happened three times, the Aurors simply gave up and let him roam freely throughout the various prison areas within the fortress.

No one even wanted to stay by his side anymore—

It's very simple. Everyone has a temper. Who would want to stay with someone who is always finding fault with them?
Anyway, with the Dementors around, no one can escape Azkaban. Let him see!
And that was precisely Vaughn's goal.

With a stern face, Vaughn surveyed the cell floor and returned to the magical elevator shaft. He asked the Auror who operated the elevator, who looked utterly dejected, "What kind of prisoners are held on the next few floors?"

The Auror replied listlessly and resentfully, "Death Eater, esteemed Mr. Weasley!"

Vaughn dismissed it: "The Lestrange brothers, and Bellatrix and his gang?"

"Yes, and there are also the vicious Black, Roll, Rozier, Selwin, Travers, and so on—in short, all serious criminals who will be locked up in Azkaban until the day they die..."

As he spoke, Auror smiled enigmatically and offered a "friendly" reminder: "Dear Mr. Weasley, I suggest you don't go. Those places are full of vicious villains... Oh, of course I'm not saying you should be afraid of them, but you are, after all, of noble birth, and in case..."

Tch, what a clumsy attempt at provocation.

Vaughn remained expressionless, then, in an attitude befitting the other party's expectations, bluntly demanded, "Take me there!"

(End of this chapter)