Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 145 The Way of the Snake and the Rat
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, please take care."

Mundungus bowed and scraped as he saw him off, only straightening up after Vaughn had apparated away.

Lupin disapproved of his arrogant yet obsequious attitude: "He's already gone, are you putting on this act for me?"

Mundungus raised his comically thick eyebrows: "Whether Mr. Weasley sees it or not, I will show it. It's called heartfelt respect, dear Remus."

"Ha, the nickname was definitely right, Dunge (meaning defense in English)!"

Mundungus, unfazed by Lupin's mockery, said, "Go ahead and criticize me, Remus. I have a feeling Mr. Weasley values ​​me highly, and maybe I'll be able to join his ranks someday, and perhaps even climb over you."

"dream!"

"No, no, no, this is not a dream. Mr. Weasley is a big man, and big men like him need a scoundrel to do the dirty work for them. Unfortunately, I love being that kind of scoundrel!"

Mundungus chuckled; his words were indeed heartfelt.

More than ten years ago, when Dumbledore came to recruit him, he also decisively clung to the White Lord's coattails...

Lupin and Mundungus spent a great deal of effort to cast a complex spell on the site of the now-ruined building, consisting of a Muggle banishment spell, a confusion spell, a peace-guarding spell, a protection spell, and so on.

Throughout the process, Lupin was distracted, while Mundungus was very diligent.

After the barrier was set up, he checked it several times carefully.

"The Muggle Expulsion Charm and the Confusion Charm can drive away Muggles, making them subconsciously ignore this place. The Peacekeeper and Protection Charms can defend against wizards' spells, lest some visiting wizard suddenly go crazy and cast a few spells here, shattering the barrier."

"Hmm, absolutely perfect!"

Mundungus nodded in satisfaction.

Unfortunately, no one came to support him. His partner seemed lost in thought, staring at the harbor in the distance, lost in thought.

After finishing his inspection, Mundungus walked over to Lupin, looked at the dull sea, and pouted, "Great philosopher, have you had enough of your sentimental lamentations? We're going back!"

The two had collaborated more than once more than a decade ago. Back then, the newly founded Order of the Phoenix was almost constantly surrounded by Death Eaters, so they usually operated in small teams to avoid being alone.

The two were teammates for a long time, even though they didn't like each other.

Because of his sorrowful, melancholic face and relatively innocent and kind personality, Lupin was nicknamed "the great philosopher" by Mundungus. Lupin, not to be outdone, called him "Dungus".

Hearing his words, Lupin snapped out of his reverie, turned to look at him, and after a moment of silence, suddenly asked, "Back in the Order of the Phoenix, we clearly didn't get along, but we always teamed up for missions... Was that something Dumbledore deliberately arranged? Did he not trust me?"

Mundungus did not speak.

But this reaction itself is tantamount to tacit agreement.

Lu Ping let out a long sigh, momentarily at a loss for words.

More than a decade ago, he stood with Mundungus Fletcher, whom he looked down upon, for this very reason.

More than ten years later, it's still the same...

This is so frustrating!
“That’s normal.” Seeing his melancholy look, Mundungus shrugged and said meaningfully, “Big shots are very thoughtful. They like things to go according to their plans. As for you, Remus, to put it nicely, you are very proactive. To put it bluntly, you are too principled and have too many personal ideas.”

"Have you ever considered that neither Dumbledore nor Mr. Weasley might need you to have too many ideas?"

After thinking for a moment, Mundungus came up with an analogy: "If you were a thief, and your lock-picking tools kept chattering away just as you were about to break into someone's door, advising you not to steal, saying it was immoral, blah blah blah, what would you do?"

This absurd analogy made Lu Ping frown.

However, he still understood what Mundungus was trying to say, and said with dissatisfaction, "I am a person, not a tool!"

Mundungus scoffed: "What difference does it make? In the eyes of great men, the only difference between us and tools is that we have an extra pair of ears to take orders and a mouth to answer. Everything else is superfluous."

"Hmph, you've chosen to degenerate!"

"Ha, old Mundung has survived this long entirely thanks to your so-called self-degradation," Mundungus chuckled. "And what about you, esteemed and virtuous gentleman? Dumbledore suspects you, and Mr. Weasley is also dissatisfied with you. Great philosopher, may I ask, who is truly in the wrong?"

"you……"

"Alright, I'm neither a Hogwarts professor nor a cultured person. I don't want to get entangled with you on life philosophies. Now that we've finished our business, shouldn't we go back?"

As he spoke, Mundungus excitedly rubbed his hands together and raised his comically thick eyebrows: "Mr. Weasley has something else to tell me. Old Mundung has regretted not being able to get on Dumbledore's good side last time for more than ten years. We must not let this opportunity slip by!"

villain!

Although this was just Lupin's thought, which he didn't say aloud, Mundungus could clearly see the disgust in his expression.

Mundungus didn't mind at all.

Just as he said before, in his mind, a nobody like him is seen as nothing more than a tool in the eyes of big shots.

Who would demand that a tool possess morality or conscience?
Tools just need to be easy to use!
Sure enough, when he was led by Lupin, Apparating several times, he arrived at a Muggle house and met Mr. Vaughn Weasley once again.

The distinguished gentleman sitting by the window, chin in hand, deep in thought, asked him as soon as they met, "Mr. Fletcher, what use do you think you are to me?"

Mundungus threw himself to the ground, gently kissed Vaughn's robe, and smiled obsequiously:
"Of course, it's those treacherous ways that a noble person like you would disdain, sir!"

"tell me the story."

"Ah, that's a rather broad topic. Old Monton can only give a few simple examples based on your current needs, such as buying and selling contraband. Praise Merlin, the Ministry of Magic's list of contraband items grows longer every year, including potions and alchemical materials such as dragon blood, dragon bones, invisibility hides, and mermaid tears. Under the Ministry of Magic's naive yet malicious laws, the sale of these items has been completely monopolized in the name of protecting magical creatures, resulting in a situation where they are expensive but unavailable. And I have the channels to get them!"

"Or perhaps, the werewolves and vampires you need, those rare creatures—yes, esteemed Mr. Weasley, since you founded the WAC, even werewolves that can be captured have become rare in England. Now, apart from that idiot Greyback's werewolf legion, which can still 'provide' some supplies, we can only capture them abroad. I can use my years of connections to help you assemble a hunting team, guaranteeing that the members are all highly skilled and relatively reputable dark wizards!"

"Furthermore, as a potion master, your works sell very well on the black market, but I must say, those rigid black market pharmacies are a complete waste of your reputation. In fact, I know many wizards who, for various reasons, find it very inconvenient to buy your works on the black market... I can help you expand your business in this area!"

In the Granger family's attic, Lupin, standing in the corner with a "worried face," was stunned for a moment.

Even Vaughn, who had been resting his chin on his hand and constantly playing with a strand of silver memory thread, couldn't help but look away and gaze at the short, chubby Mundungus with admiration.

"Surprising self-promotion, Mr. Fletcher. I admit, these few simple examples have made me look at you in a new light!"

Mundungus chuckled obsequiously, "These are all low-class tricks. You live in the sunlight, so how could you possibly see a damp, dark cave that snakes and rats would avoid?"

I didn't pay any attention to his flattery.

After listening to Mundungus's explanation, Vaughn pondered for a moment and said, "The examples you gave were very interesting, Mr. Fletcher..."

“Mr. Monton, you may call me Monton!” Montonges bowed and scraped.

“…Alright, Monton.” Vaughn’s smile was gentle, showing none of the ruthlessness he displayed just hours before when he destroyed a small building and six dark wizards with a single spell. “I have a small question: are you familiar with smuggling routes?”

"Of course, esteemed Mr. Weasley!"

"Let's assume this scenario: an English wizard is currently stranded in North America. Due to some complicated reasons, she has joined an opposition civilian wizarding force in North America and is wanted by the Magical Congress of North America. I would like to inquire whether there is a way to safely bring her back to England from North America through smuggling channels?"

North American opposition?
Wanted by the Magic Congress?

Mundungus paused, blinked his small eyes, and asked cautiously, "Excuse me, why is this... uh, English wizard wanted?"

Vaughn smiled: "Because she was involved in the attack on Woolworth Building!"

"..."

Lupin, who was sitting in the corner, couldn't help but twitch his lips. After all, he was an adult wizard. Even though he was in a closed-off world and had never left England, he knew that Woolworth Building was the headquarters of the Magical Congress of North America!

And that's not all.

They heard Vaughn continue, “She’s also offended some pure-blood families in North America. You should know that things have been very bad there in North America these past two years. Muggle wizards and pure-blood families have been constantly clashing because of the International Secrecy Act and the Rappaport Law (a segregation law between wizards and Muggles in North America, enacted in 1790). It’s gone from verbal sparring to death threats, and finally, last year, it escalated into a bloody incident. Unfortunately, that English wizard, in order to protect an Ilvermorny student, also attacked several pure-blood family members during that bloody incident…”

"..."

Mundungus nervously wiped his forehead: "Is...is there anything else?"

Although he was also a villain involved in the underworld, compared to the English witch in Vaughn's "hypothesis," he suddenly felt very innocent!
These fake underground elements are just petty thieves and smugglers.

The real English witches offended all the official forces in North America, and they're still alive. Merlin must have been blind!

Fortunately, it wasn't all bad news.

Hearing Mundungus's stammering question, Vaughn thought for a moment and shook his head: "When I received her last letter, she had temporarily ended her hiding and was lying low in a small Muggle town with the civilian armed forces she had joined. The situation should be better now."

Upon hearing this, Mundungus breathed a sigh of relief.

He was terrified of hearing that the other person had been captured by the Magic Congress, and that Vaughn would ask him to rescue them... The situation in North America was quite different from that in more lenient England.

Even in England, trying to rescue people from Azkaban was a pipe dream, let alone in North America, a powder keg.

After a moment's thought, Mundungus cautiously replied, "Dear Mr. Weasley, if your friend..."

"What do you mean, 'my friend'? Hypothetically!"

"Uh, assuming... assuming that English witch wasn't captured and controlled by the Magical Congress of North America, I might have a way to bring her back, but I'd have to contact my partners there, this..."

Vaughan nodded.

Then, he opened his small handbag, took out a money pouch, and casually tossed it to Mundungus.

With a thud, the money bag landed heavily at Mundungus's feet. The crisp, substantial sound immediately brightened Mundungus's eyes.

He quickly picked up the money bag.

Vaughn said, "There are 1000 Galleons inside, which is your operating fund. 500 of them are for you to build a hunting team of werewolves and vampires, and the other 500 are for you to use to maintain the North American smuggling channels. I might need them later. Is that enough?"

"That's enough! That's enough!"

Mundungus nodded repeatedly.

Merlin testified that when had he ever seen thousands of Galleons crammed into a single money pouch? If it weren't for his long-term planning and the desire to avoid being looked down upon by those powerful figures, he would have barely managed to suppress the urge to open the pouch right now and pour out those glittering little cuties for a good kiss!

Vaughn smiled as he watched Mundungus's excited expression and said slowly, "My dear Mundungus, this is just the first installment. You'll understand once you've been with me for a while. I'm never a stingy person. As long as you put your heart into your work, I won't treat you unfairly."

Mundungus, his mind filled with Galleon's voice, nodded repeatedly: "Yes, yes, esteemed, generous Mr. Weasley—"

"but!"

call--

A powerful magical force suddenly enveloped them.

Without a spell or a wand being waved, Mundungus, sensing something was wrong, only saw Vaughn raise his hand.

He didn't even have a chance to resist before he was suddenly tumbled over and dragged to Vaughn's feet by the magical power.

Vaughn still smiled and looked at him gently: "—But I don't like inefficiency, and I hate disappointment even more, dear Mundon, do you understand?"

Just hours earlier, the same horror of witnessing Vaughn use a strange time magic to "steal" time from six dark wizards, turning them into six piles of skeletons, weighed heavily on Mundungus's heart once again.

The difference this time was that he recognized the magic Vaughn was using.

The most ordinary "spell of summoning"!
However, this common curse was so skillfully manipulated in the hands of the other party that it even possessed the binding effect of other curses, suppressing him so much that he couldn't even resist!

This only serves to highlight how unfathomable Vaughn is!
Feeling an oppressive pressure as if a mountain were crushing him, threatening to pulverize him at any moment, fine beads of sweat seeped from Mundungus's forehead. His face was almost translucent with paleness. Struggling to suppress his fear, he stammered, "I...I understand, Mr. Weasley..."

"Great! Go do it."

As soon as he finished speaking, the sudden magical power dissipated.

Mundungus collapsed to the ground, his limbs limp as if he had lost all strength, yet they were unconsciously tense, a result of the lingering stress from fear.

He dared not delay, and quickly knelt down to kiss Vaughn's robe again: "Yes, Mr. Weasley!"

Vaughn waved.

Mundungus then got up and reluctantly took his leave from Lupin.

Different people require different approaches.

Mundungus mingled in the magical underworld, a place where the strong preyed on the weak and might reigned supreme. Therefore, simple appeasement and bribery were insufficient to deal with him. Ideals were, in fact, as meaningless to Mundungus Fletcher as air.

Enticement is the foundation, but it should also be supplemented by deterrence and fear.

Vaughn's requirements were not high; he didn't even need the other party's loyalty—such a person had no loyalty to speak of—as long as he could do his job diligently and be a competent tool.

After seeing Mundungus and Lupin off, Vaughn’s attention returned to the strand of silver thread in his hand.

That was a memory he extracted from his own mind.

After watching for an unknown amount of time, there was a knock on the attic door.

Vaughn snapped out of his daze: "Please come in."

The door opened, and Hermione walked in, carrying books. The first thing she noticed was the strand of silver thread on Vaughn's hand. The girl tilted her head curiously: "Are you reading memories?"

“No,” Vaughn shook his head, “it’s something else.”

Hermione sat down next to Vaughn. The spacious windowsill of the attic bay window was large enough to accommodate two children. She leaned closer to the strand of silver hair adorned with countless silver stars.

It is so beautiful, like silk inlaid with countless tiny diamonds, translucent, hazy, and dreamlike.

Human memory always seems to transcend reality, like a dream.

But Hermione didn't find anything unusual about it.

She looked up and glanced at her boyfriend with a puzzled expression.

So Vaughn took a deep breath and exhaled!
A thick plume of white smoke suddenly billowed from his mouth and nose. Unlike natural smoke, which sinks due to its mass, the magically created smoke floated in mid-air and gradually diffused into a smoke screen as Vaughn exhaled.

Once the smoke screen formed, Vaughn flicked his fingers, and the wisp of silver thread wrapped around his finger immediately disappeared into the smoke screen.

Before long, a dazzling display of starlight, resembling the Milky Way, emerged from the wall of smoke.

Hermione recognized the spell, the Cloud Charm, a spell similar to illusion. Of course, the cloud is actually created by the spell; it is the medium. After the caster creates the cloud, they can control it to create illusions of light and shadow.

It is said that Dumbledore once used the Cloud and Mist Charm to create a thick fog that filled the entire city of London. All the Muggles and wizards were so bewildered by the fog that they could not see Dumbledore walking right past them.

However, this spell is more often used for scene recreation. The caster can project the images in their mind through clouds and mist so that others can see them.

It is sometimes used to magnify tiny things.

Just like what Vaughn is demonstrating right now!
The silver threads, magnified by the wall of clouds, are as spectacular as the Milky Way hanging in the sky on a summer night in the wilderness, free from urban light pollution.

Hermione finally saw what Vaughn meant by "other things".

Those are... fine black lines, or spots?
Looking at the enlarged memory module, which resembled a flowing river, and the occasional black lines or spots that were indistinguishable from fine lines, Hermione frowned slightly.
"what is that?"

Vaughn, who was also observing, casually replied, "That's the pollution of dark magic!"

Hermione turned around in surprise.

Thanks to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's nearly year-long slacking-off teaching style, normal Hogwarts students basically know nothing about the Dark Arts.

This situation is not limited to first grade; it occurs in grades five and below.

Hermione was no exception; no matter how much she read, this kind of knowledge was not something a first-grader could access.

Vaughn then briefly explained to her that using dark magic requires intense, extreme negative emotions, which can lead to the pollution of consciousness, memory, and even the soul.

The girl immediately became anxious: "Oh my god, then how come your memory... you learned dark magic? You, you knew about these side effects, how could you..."

“Don’t worry, my dear, the contamination has only just appeared, and I’ve been working on removing the dark magic contamination,” Vaughn reassured him. “Remember my Persona? That’s the magic I developed specifically to remove the contamination after consulting with Dumbledore!”

Hermione certainly knew about Persona Impalers, after all, Harry had been tormented by that thing for months this year!

Hearing that Vaughn had consulted with Dumbledore, she was slightly relieved, but still complained, "But you've always said that your Persona is only half-finished!"

"Uh, it's definitely not perfect yet..."

"Then why are you in such a hurry to learn dark magic? Why not wait until your personality and physical body are fully developed before learning such dangerous magic..."

Before she could finish speaking, Hermione's voice grew softer and softer. She remembered that Vaughn had mentioned several times during their conversations that the development of the Persona had long since hit a bottleneck.

She was clever; after a moment's hesitation, she asked, "Is it because you haven't personally experienced pollution that you can't continue?"

"Ok!"

Vaughn nodded. "In fact, I started learning dark magic last year."

Hermione immediately recalled last year's Halloween: "The Unseen Blade?"

"Yes, and there's also the Fiendish Curse I learned at the beginning of this year. These are all spells that can be classified as curses."

In the magical world, or more precisely, in the Hogwarts spellbook series "Standard Spells," spells requiring malice to cast are divided into three levels:

Curse, poisonous curse, evil curse!
Among them, curses are the lowest level. Some spells used purely for pranks, such as sealing the tongue and throat, or hanging upside down, can be considered curses.

Therefore, in the actual wizarding concept, curses of the malevolent level are not classified as black magic. Even if such curses require malice, the degree required is very small, and the impact on the mind is negligible, so they will not cause pollution.

Curses are similar; you can't say that chanting "front teeth are like big sticks" will cause mental distortion, can you?

Only spells that require strong, extreme malice as a driving force and whose magical effects are full of destructive and devastating power will enter the curse level and be officially classified as black magic.

Their spells may not be "curses" in the narrow sense, but they must have a powerful destructive effect and a strong emotional output that puts people to death!
Both "Divine Sharpness Without Shadow" and "Fierce Fire Curse" are undoubtedly such incantations.

Hermione, of course, understood the spell hierarchy. She looked at Vaughn hesitantly: "You've been practicing since last year and only now are you showing signs of contamination, or...?"

Vaughn shook his head slightly: "The pollution only appeared today because I learned a new black magic today."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Did you learn the Unforgivable Curse?"

"No, it's just a curse!"

"how is this possible?"

Yes, how is that possible?

Vaughn looked at the "galaxy" flowing around the smoke-filled walls, watching those fleeting black shadows.

The pollution didn't occur because he learned curses!
Instead... he killed someone with a curse!

The so-called corruption of black magic is not due to a problem with black magic itself, but rather to the killing.

Long ago, Vaughn was puzzled by the corruption of dark magic.

No matter how magical magic may be, it is ultimately just a tool. Why would a tool corrupt and distort the human mind?
This idea is as absurd as accusing a gun in Muggle society of tempting the gun-wielder to commit a crime.

However, at that time he didn't have a deep understanding of magic.

He thought his doubts stemmed from retaining a Muggle mindset from before his transmigration and a lack of understanding of magic.

Before he actually learned black magic, his view on the issue of "black magic contamination" was that emotions were the main cause of the contamination.

This is because of the unique way in which spells are cast in this world.

All magic in this world requires not only magical power, but also emotions and intentions!
For example, the "Disarming Spell" not only requires magic as an energy source, but also a strong intention and emotion of "eliminating the enemy's weapons" in order to be successfully cast.

This is still a basic incantation.

The higher the level of the spell, the higher the emotional requirements. For example, the "Guardian Angel Spell" cannot be activated by simple happiness or joy. You must call upon your purest and most genuine memories and emotions to successfully summon the Guardian Angel.

For example, the three unforgivable curses.

The reason why those three spells, which are the most famous dark magic spells in the magical world, haven't become commonplace is because of their high barrier to entry.

Even if someone lacks malice, they won't be able to cause much harm to others, even if they learn the Unforgivable Curse.

In the future of his memories, after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Harry, filled with immense hatred and anger towards Bellatrix because of Sirius's death, recited the Cruciatus Curse.

But that fearsome spell did almost no harm to Bella. Instead, Bella mocked Harry for being "weak and powerless," and for not being vicious enough in his hatred.

Over the years, Vaughn has recalled that "plot" countless times, wondering just how vicious one must be to actually cast the Cruciatus Curse.

Aren't the negative emotions generated by the murder of one's father and the loss of one's family enough?
Vaughn couldn't imagine what kind of extreme emotion that must have been.

So for many years, he believed that the so-called black magic pollution was probably just black wizards maintaining extreme emotions for a long time, driving themselves insane.

until today!

In the attic, where a thick fog formed a ring, Vaughn looked at the shimmering light that belonged to his own memory, magnified by the Cloud Mist Curse.

In the memory, the black color, which symbolizes pollution, is rare and moves very quickly.

Even if he cast a "super-sensory spell" on himself, he still needs to focus his attention to catch a fleeting glimpse of it.

After watching for a while, the attic door opened again, and Hermione returned.

She had just gone downstairs to deal with the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. Because of Hermione's enrollment, the Muggle community where the Granger family lived was a key area under surveillance, and any magical fluctuations would attract the attention of the Aurors.

"Kingsley again?" Vaughn, still focused on the memory, asked casually without turning around.

“No,” Hermione said, “it’s Tonks!”

"Oh? She can act independently now?"

"No...she turned into Kingsley..."

"Ha!" Vaughn chuckled. "What an audacious fellow."

Hermione sighed and patted her forehead, recalling how the other person, with Kingsley Shackleton's dark face, had suddenly put his arm around her downstairs, leaving her speechless.

But I also felt a little envious.

Who wouldn't want the ability to transform into a natural-born Magnus?

Shaking her head, no longer thinking about that social terrorist, Hermione looked up at the fog-shrouded attic space and asked worriedly, "How's your investigation going? Will the pollution affect you?"

"It's not clear yet."

Vaughn's eyes, imbued with the Extrasensory Charm, emitted a faint, eerie glow. As he continued to gaze at the magnified light within the clouds, he replied, "I have been closely monitoring my memories and mind, and so far I have not detected any signs of disturbance or distortion."

As he spoke, he turned around, smiled slightly at Hermione, and comforted her, "Don't worry, with the Persona in place, I can immediately detect any disturbance in the mind's world. Although it's still a work in progress, it's already very powerful if it's just for monitoring."

Hermione didn't know what to say and looked dejected.

She was worried about her boyfriend, and also because she realized she couldn't help him at all.

Putting everything else aside, Hermione is completely helpless when it comes to memory magic... When she first enrolled last year, the gap between her and Vaughn wasn't that big.

Noticing Hermione's low spirits, Vaughn waved his hand to dispel the spell.

The dense fog that filled the attic collapsed and dissipated immediately as the spell was lifted, disappearing without a trace in just a few breaths, leaving only Vaughn's silver thread-like memory.

Recalling the memory and putting it back into the brain, Vaughn and Hermione squeezed together on the windowsill, basking in the sunlight.

The girl smelled pleasant, it was hard to tell if it was from shower gel or some kind of refreshing laundry detergent.

Her hair was no longer as fluffy as it was at Hogwarts; instead, long, straight brown hair cascaded over her slender shoulders.

Noticing Vaughn's gaze, Hermione blushed slightly and whispered, "I've been using the shampoo you gave me..."

That was a shampoo that Warn developed specifically for her, inspired by Porter's Quick Smooth Shampoo.

"Specially" means literally; Vaughn didn't launch that shampoo on the market, but rather made it specifically for her use.

(End of this chapter)