Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 154 Vaughn Weasley is changing the world!
While Barty and Vaughn were reviewing the procedures, the outside world was also in an uproar because of the upcoming WAC conference.

Early in the morning, the Daily Prophet's owls covered the sky with a whooshing sound.

The freshly printed newspapers delivered the news to every household, allowing those who couldn't come to London to experience the exciting atmosphere of the upcoming conference.

The Granger family also received the newspaper.

Hermione was awakened by the sound of knocking on the window. When she opened her eyes, the owl that delivers the Daily Prophet was standing outside the window, pecking fiercely at the glass with its beak, its round eyes glaring at her with displeasure.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here so early."

Hermione apologized as she quickly opened the window.

The cool morning air seeping in through the window made the girl, dressed only in a thin nightgown, shiver.

Only after letting the annoyed owl in did she hurriedly find her coat and handbag.

“5 Nat, here… I’m sorry, your colleague ate the last of the owl treats yesterday, but there’s some cat food left, you see…”

The owl stared blankly at the cat food the girl handed it.

It stared at Hermione's head for a long time with its wide, round eyes, perhaps trying to figure out what kind of substance was inside that would make it think it ate cat food.
That's disgusting stuff that only lowly cats would eat!
The owl grabbed Bronze Nate and flew away angrily. Hermione was a little disappointed that she hadn't sold any cat food, but she quickly changed her mind.

As in the past few days, the front page of the Daily Prophet today is still WAC.

However, the above content is no longer a dispute between supporters and opponents, nor is it a debate about whether WAC should exist.

There was a large photograph on the front page.

Hermione recognized it immediately; it was a photo from earlier this year, taken at the ceremony where Vaughn was awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class, which had already been featured on the front page.

In a scene reminiscent of a movie, snow falls from a gloomy sky. Standing on a high platform, surrounded by flashing camera lights and with Fudge's face pale in comparison, Vaughn passionately stretches out his hand.

In the direction he pointed, amidst the pure white snow, emerged a dense, bustling mass of werewolves!

The photographer perfectly captured that stunning moment and composition, and now it's on the front page once again.

The titles are also quite different:
WAC will be officially established tonight!

Vaughan Weasley!
He is changing the world!
The article was written by Rita Skeeter.

Hermione used to hate her because she maliciously made fun of Vaughn and Dumbledore.

However, for some unknown reason, Rita Skeeter's attitude suddenly changed 180 degrees. Starting from the beginning of the year, she enthusiastically praised Vaughn's invention of the wolfsbane potion and the "great significance" of creating WAC in media outlets such as the Daily Prophet and The Wizarding Weekly.

A while ago, when progressives (supporters of WAC) and conservatives (opponents) were engaged in a war of words in the newspapers, Rita Skeeter, all by herself and her pen, utterly humiliated more than a dozen conservative scholars.

He's practically a god of war.

Moreover, she never uses profanity when she insults people; instead, she uses sarcastic and unsavory language. She also digs up dirt on her opponents from unknown sources and releases it bit by bit, whetting the readers' appetites and turning the verbal battles into suspenseful novels. This attracts a large number of readers while also tormenting her opponents.

A few days ago, Hermione saw a wizard break down in the Wizarding Weekly, publicly declaring that Rita Skeeter should be careful when going out, and suggesting that she "would better be wary of the Death Curse even when she goes to the toilet."

Perhaps it was just a rash remark made by that wizard in a moment of anger.

However, given Rita's reports about his past misdeeds and his malicious mistreatment of Muggles, a large number of readers sent letters to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, demanding severe punishment.

The next day, he was captured by the Aurors, and the Daily Prophet even dedicated an entire page to reporting on it.

In short, everyone now knows that Rita Skeeter is a huge fan of Vaughn Weasley.

Progressives call her "Helen," referring to Helen Duncan, a prophet who, during World War II, made predictions about the Allied war effort because she was worried about her two children who had been drafted into the army and were now missing. She was ultimately tried and killed by Muggles for sticking to her prophecy.

It is now often used to describe witches who do not succumb to threats of death and power (Helen Duncan is a real person who was convicted of witchcraft by a British court during World War II for "leaking intelligence," and this is a slight adaptation).

Conservatives, of course, had nothing good to say about her, considering her Vaughn Weasley's lackey, a slut who kissed redheads' shoes, and an unruly bitch!
They practically wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

However, Rita Skeeter clearly doesn't care about her opponents. She disappeared for several days after being threatened, and Hermione guesses she must be in hiding. But in her latest post, she hasn't changed her stance:

"...Today will be a great day, a day to be remembered in history. Friends who support WAC, years from now when we look back, you will be glad you supported and stood by us today. A new era is coming towards us, and those decadent and backward things will eventually be swept into the dustbin of history..."

The almost overflowing praise between the lines made Hermione a little embarrassed. She felt that she had gone too far in praising Vaughn and was a little awkward, but she was also very happy. What girl doesn't want her boyfriend to be seen as outstanding and great by others?

Unfortunately, she couldn't attend the conference today.

Of course, it wasn't anyone who refused her permission to go. Although the WAC conference was a serious occasion, there were no restrictions on the banquet afterward, and she could attend if she went.

The main reason I can't go is because today is July 31st.

Happy Birthday, Harry!
Throughout the month-long correspondence, Harry lamented more than once in his letters how boring and lonely his summer vacation was, saying that he missed Hogwarts and the days when everyone played together.

Thinking of her friend huddled in the attic, looking so pitiful, Hermione just couldn't bring herself to abandon him on her birthday.

"Ugh……"

With a sigh, Hermione stopped thinking about it.

Besides, Vaughn also encouraged her to visit Harry and bring him his birthday present.

time flies.

After reading the newspaper, washing up and having breakfast, and reviewing my lessons for a while, it was already noon.

Around 1 p.m., Hermione heard a car pull up downstairs. She peeked out of the attic and saw Mr. Arthur Weasley get out of the car and greet his father as he opened the door.

Ron followed behind.

They came to pick her up.

Hermione quickly changed her clothes, stuffed her and Vaughn's gifts into her handbag, and ran downstairs.

"Uncle Arthur, Ron!"

They waved from afar.

When she ran up to him, Arthur had already warmly taken her handbag: "Good afternoon, darling. Molly and I miss you very much. When are you going to stay at the Burrow again for a while?"

Hermione was delighted and readily agreed, completely ignoring her father's convulsing expression beside her.

After exchanging a few jokes, Arthur cheerfully pushed Hermione and Ron into the car: "Kids, let's go... Brother, we're off now, we'll talk again next time we go to the Burrow."

"Uh……"

Granger wanted to say something, but no one cared about his thoughts. The car sped away, leaving him standing there alone, feeling utterly dejected.

Inside the car, Hermione was talking to Ron:
"Have you finished your summer homework?"

Ron, who was initially quite happy to see Hermione, immediately looked dejected upon hearing this: "Are you a devil? There's still a month until the end of summer vacation, what's the rush!"

"Humph!"

His reaction was exactly what Hermione expected. The girl snorted coldly, "I'm not in a hurry. I just hope you don't come crying and begging to copy my homework when school starts!"

Arthur, who was focused on driving ahead, couldn't help but glance back at his youngest son.

Startled, Ron quickly changed the subject: "Uh, did you and Vaughn bring your gifts?"

"of course."

Hermione opened her handbag and took out the gifts for the two of them. Vaughn's was a very thin box with a cover and ribbon on it.

She didn't have her own bag; instead, she had a magic book about Quidditch, which detailed the tactics and practice footage of top Quidditch teams in Europe in recent years.

Ron paid no attention to Vaughn's gift, but his eyes widened when he saw the book Hermione had given him:
"Merlin, is it the out-of-print 'Complete Guide to Quidditch Techniques in European Masters'? How did you find it?"

Hermione smiled smugly: "In a somewhat obscure magazine, that's the benefit of reading more books."

Ron didn't care about reading more books. He stared at the cover of the magic book, which showed several Irish team members training and chasing each other among the clouds. His throat bobbed: "Hermione, that..."

"What are you trying to do? This is for Harry!"

"Ugh!"

Ron sighed in disappointment.

Arthur really likes Muggle cars.

But if there's anything unpleasant about driving, then there definitely is.

For example, traffic jams.

Even a wizard couldn't do anything about such a terrible thing, unless he wanted to create a magical exposure incident in front of countless Muggles on the street and then be arrested and taken to the Wizengamot courtroom, in which case the car could be sent flying directly to Privet Drive.

At the same time, in Little Wheekin, Surrey, southwest of Greater London.

In the cramped attic of the Dursleys' house, Harry, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, peered out of the small window, gazing expectantly at the sky.

But all that met the eye was the unchanging dark clouds.

Harry sighed inwardly, pulled his head back, and continued to stare blankly at the window frame.

The sound of a television came from downstairs; it was either Cousin Dudley watching cartoons, or Aunt Penny engrossed in her favorite melodramatic TV series.

It couldn't possibly be Uncle Vernon.

He went to work and hasn't come back yet!
Everything was as usual, as if no one realized what day it was... No, not "as if," Aunt Penny and Uncle probably really had forgotten it was his birthday.

Or perhaps they are deliberately pretending not to know.

Harry knew very well that his aunt and uncle vehemently disliked magic and wizards, and they deeply resented his decision to insist on studying at Hogwarts.

Last year, if it weren't for Hagrid, they would never have let him leave.

Even though they agreed to let him enroll under Hagrid's "threat," it didn't mean they put aside their grudges. When he returned from his vacation, his aunt and uncle treated him coldly.

Dali's cousin also called him a monster.

Fortunately, the Dursleys, being Muggles, knew nothing about the rules of the wizarding world.

Harry chuckled to himself as he thought about the day he returned. He remembered how his Uncle Vernon had roughly thrown his luggage into the cubicle down the stairs, and how Harry had pulled out his wand with a start, making the man's fat tremble with fear.

He had long ago thrown the holiday notice that was given to him when he left school into the trash can at the station. He had had enough of the days when he was bullied and powerless to fight back.

He didn't want the Dursleys to see the holiday notice, and he didn't want them to know that he couldn't use magic outside of school.

He wanted to exploit the Dursleys' fear of magic to gain better conditions for himself.

For example, like now, living in a "spacious" attic.

No more being pissed around on my head by that wretched Dudley, getting covered in dust, or bumping my head every morning when I get up.

He even had his own window.

He obtained all of these by gesturing with his wand.

Correspondingly, the Dursleys grew increasingly fearful and resentful of him. They began to ignore his existence, as if Harry Potter didn't exist at all, refusing to speak to him or even glance at him.

But Harry didn't care.

He never cared about this cold and unloving home.

After a moment of blankness, Harry opened the drawer and took out the letters Hermione and Ron had written to him. He had read the contents of the letters many times, and the parchment was worn and frayed, but he was not tired of them at all.

As he read the series of amusing anecdotes written by his two friends in the letter, he smiled with amusement.

As I read, the sky gradually darkened.

Harry heard a car horn; it was Uncle Vernon coming home from get off work. The downstairs area immediately became lively as Uncle Vernon boasted in his loud voice about his day's work, what he had solved, and what clients he had met.

Aunt Penny chimed in with a high-pitched voice, and Cousin Dudley made a fuss about wanting to eat.

Harry dejectedly put away the letter and looked out the window again. In the gradually darkening night, the houses rose and fell towards the horizon, with the dim, slightly orange-red horizon as a backdrop, and lights lit up in the distance.

The sounds of playing, arguing, and laughing... all converged in the air above the residential area.

Whether it's noisy or mundane, it's all part of every family's home—the taste of home.

It just doesn't belong to him...

Boom!
A soft sound suddenly came from the roof outside the window.

Harry almost thought it was his imagination, but soon he heard the sound again, which sounded like someone climbing down from below, the sound of their footsteps hitting the tiles.

Harry curiously opened the window.

The next moment, he was so startled he almost cried out—a large, flushed face struggled to "rise" from the eaves of a nearby roof, and upon seeing him, the face lit up with joy:

“Harry!” Uh…

Harry instinctively grabbed his wand, only then realizing that it was Ron.

It's Ron!
Harry quickly leaned out and saw Ron clinging to the roof like a toad.

Further away, outside the fence of the small courtyard, Hermione stood by the bushes beside the road and waved to him.

A surge of immense joy suddenly welled up in my chest, making my eyes sting.

Harry instinctively stepped out the window. As he left, Hedwig in the cage struggled and cried out, the sound alerting the people downstairs.

dong dong dong...

Amidst the heavy footsteps like stone blocks, someone ran up and slammed the door open.

It's Uncle Vernon!
Seeing Harry with one leg out the window, and his large head peeking out from under the eaves, Uncle Vernon's fat face flushed crimson: "Damn it, you—"

Harry quickly drew his wand and pointed it at him.

The angry curse he was about to utter stopped abruptly. Vernon pressed himself tightly against the wall in fright, but he still snapped, "What are you doing? Trying to sneak out with that bad guy outside?"

"He's my friend!" Harry said nervously. "They've come to celebrate my birthday!"

"What kind of bullshit friends, what kind of bullshit birthdays? Get back here! And you, you red-haired thief! Freak! Get out of my house!"

Harry didn't want to talk to his hysterical Uncle Vernon anymore.

He opened the cage and released Hedwig, pointing his wand at Vernon as he slipped out the window. Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who had heard the two arguing downstairs, rushed up to him.

The Dursleys stared in horror at Harry's wand, watching helplessly as he slipped out of the room, slid down the roof, and then dashed out of the courtyard with a red-haired boy.

For 12 years.

Harry had never done anything so thrilling before. He ran out of the Dursleys' house, ignoring Aunt Petunia's and Cousin Dudley's screams and Uncle Vernon's roar of "Damn freak, get out, get out, and better not come back."

He just kept running, and after meeting up with Hermione and Ron, the three of them ran all the way to the outside of the community before stopping, panting heavily.

Then the three of them looked at each other, then burst into laughter, laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.

After a while, Ron, who was finally able to catch his breath, punched Harry on the shoulder hard: "You really scared me, buddy. No wonder you always looked so timid when the Dursleys were mentioned."

"How can there be..."

Harry was breathing heavily, trying to explain, but Ron had already pulled out a gift and stuffed it into his hand, interrupting him:

Happy birthday, Harry!

Harry was taken aback. Hermione, who was standing next to him, opened her purse, took out two gifts, and handed them over. "Happy birthday, Harry!"

Holding gifts in my hands, and hearing the blessings from my friends.

Harry had been looking forward to this scene all day, this moment that should have been joyful, but he suddenly realized he had forgotten how to react.

A cool breeze swept by from the street corner, making his eyes sting and something tear up. Harry quickly covered his eyes and rubbed them frantically.
"Ouch, it feels like I've got sand in my eye."

Ron, who is usually carefree, suddenly became attentive: "Which one? Let me blow on it for you."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes, too lazy to deal with Ron who always embarrassed her. She looked across the street and saw Arthur's car parked in front of an old two-story building.

The owner of the small building was an old woman whose name was unknown. Arthur dropped them off at the intersection of Little Huijin District, but instead of going into Privet Road, he went to find the old woman, who was said to be his old friend.

Although Hermione couldn't see a trace of witchcraft in the old woman, she felt that the woman was just an ordinary Muggle.

But what a coincidence that Arthur's "old friend" happens to live near Harry?
After a series of events at school, Hermione had long since realized that Dumbledore and Vaughn paid close attention to Harry, and that attention undoubtedly contained an element of concern.

But Hermione always felt that their attention to Harry was more like preparation for something...

"Hermione, what are you thinking about?"

Ron's voice interrupted the girl's thoughts.

Hermione turned around and saw Ron and Harry, who were arm in arm and cuddling together again, unwrapping their presents.

To be precise, it was Ron who was introducing the book Hermione had given Harry: "This book is very rare. It records the training and tactics of almost all the current top European teams over the past few years. I've wanted it for a long time, but I couldn't find it anywhere. You know, many books in the wizarding world are privately published, and nobody knows where the authors actually sell them."

I have no idea!

Harry, a complete novice in the wizarding world, muttered to himself, but he also knew that this book was indeed very precious, especially for someone like him who had only started learning Quidditch last year.

He happily stroked the book cover and thanked Hermione, saying, "Thank you for the gift, Hermione. You've been a great help."

Next up is Ron.

Watching Harry untie the cable ties, he suddenly stammered, "It's nothing valuable... I took it from my own collection, it's been sitting there for a long time... there might be something wrong with it..."

Harry opened the box, inside was a doll about 3 inches tall, dressed in an orange uniform and cloak, flying wobbly and slowly, like an old, nearly broken-down machine.

Ron scratched his face: "Uh, you might have to get it repaired if you want it... but I guarantee it's valuable. It's a Seeker doll released by the Chadley Cannons for their last victory, and they haven't released one since. Very few people can find it, unless you don't like it..."

"I like it very much, Ron!"

Harry wasn't really interested in the Chadley Cannons—a team whose last glory dates back to the 19th century; what was there to pay attention to besides its history?
However, he knew that Ron was a big fan of Chadli's artillery.

What he cared about was his friendship with Ron; the gift wasn't important.

But Ron clearly didn't see it that way. This was the first time he'd heard anyone like the Chadley Cannons, and he immediately exclaimed excitedly, "Great eye! You've been born in a good time, Harry. This is the Chadley Cannons' best year yet. If they can win another game in August, they'll move up to ninth in the league!"

Ron was very proud.

Harry fell into deep thought.

How many teams are there in the England and Ireland Quidditch League?

To avoid Ron actually labeling himself a Chadley Cannons fan, Harry quickly opened the last gift.

It was a gift from Vaughn, thin like a document.

While Harry was still unwrapping the parchment, Ron began to indulge in his wild imagination again, "You have to be careful, there might be a cursed parchment inside, something Vaughn would definitely do."

Hermione couldn't help but scold him: "How could you think so badly of your brother?"

Ron scoffed, "If you received a giant spider for your eighth birthday, and that spider spun webs around you and was about to drag you away, you'd think the same thing, silly little girl!"

To Ron's disappointment, no bad things happened after Harry opened the gift.

There was only one very ordinary photo inside.

It's an old-fashioned black and white photograph, the material is a bit yellowed, it seems to have been displayed outside for a long time. The photo shows winter at Hogwarts, and they can see the Black Lake in the distance covered with a thick layer of ice.

In another shot, in the castle courtyard, beside a fountain covered in snow, a young man and woman laughed heartily, shook hands, and danced.

The two people looked unfamiliar.

But it looks so familiar.

Ron looked at the man in the photo, then at Harry, and suddenly realized, "These are your dad and mom?"

Yes……

Harry's eyes were somewhat dazed.

He recognized the two people in the photo; last year, when he stumbled upon the Mirror of Erised, he saw them reflected in it.

Over the past decade, he has missed countless people, yet has no memory of them at all.

But he actually does have those memories. Dumbledore said that the Mirror of Erised can uncover the deepest memories in a person's heart.

Unfortunately, after losing the Mirror of Erised, his memories of them faded away, and even the images he had seen in the mirror became blurry. He thought he would never remember what they looked like again...

“Vaughn…” Harry found his voice frighteningly hoarse. He looked at Hermione and asked, “Where did he find it? Dumbledore?”

Hermione shook her head.

The person who provided the photos was someone Harry would never have imagined.

Severus Snape!
Even Hermione wouldn't have guessed if Vaughn hadn't told her himself.

Eleven years ago, on the night Voldemort was defeated, Snape was the first to arrive at Potter's old house. It was he who, despite his grief, collected James and Lily's remains and their belongings.

Hermione couldn't imagine what that scene was like, nor could she understand what emotions it represented, but there was no doubt that Professor Snape didn't want anyone to know, which was why he used Vaughn's hand to send out this gift.

The wind grew stronger, swaying the bushes and lawns on both sides of the road and blowing them into the distance, making the photos rustle in the wind.

The city lights, reflecting off the dancing photograph, flickered in and out of focus. James and Lily's smiling eyes were ethereal, as if they were looking at Harry.

It seems to have drifted away on the wind to a distant place.

In the dimly lit Slytherin dungeon of distant Hogwarts, Snape sat in the shadows, raising his wine glass and gazing intently.

Then, with the glistening tears falling down my cheeks, I drank it all in one gulp...

.........

Even those favored by fate.

The world won't revolve around him.

For some, Harry Potter's birthday is a day to celebrate and remember, but for others, the "Savior's" birthday is just an ordinary day.

Central London.

WAC headquarters.

A barrier created by a combination of spells, including the Muggle Expulsion Charm and the Confusion Charm, enveloped several nearby buildings to ensure that no Muggles would trespass.

In the realm of magic, the so-called barrier is merely a transparent membrane, yet it perfectly isolates the inside from the outside.

Outside the membrane, traffic is bustling, while inside, the streets are peaceful and quiet. Only the occasional vortex that suddenly rises in the air and the people squeezing out from it can show a bit of life.

Nymphadora chewed gum as she and Kingsley patrolled along the barrier.

A few crackling sounds came from not far away, and two wizards emerged from thin air. Nymphadora heard their complaints.

"Wasn't the meeting supposed to be on Muggle territory? Why did they create a barrier? I spent most of the day choosing Muggle-style clothes."

The complaining wizard tugged at his Scottish pleated kilt, and as if to match the plaid pattern on it, he also wore a Mexican-style smock over it.

His companion was equally impressive, wearing a tweed overcoat and flared trousers, a combination of rustic charm and trendy styles from 20 years ago that left one dizzy.

However, the two old wizards clearly didn't think there was anything wrong with their clothes. After complaining a few times, they wanted to break out of the barrier and go into the Muggle crowd—they had spent a lot of time choosing clothes to blend in with the Muggles, and they couldn't let all that effort go to waste.
Nymphadora sighed helplessly, but could only step forward with Kingsley to stop the two.

That's why they're here tonight.

It's not that I'm worried about Muggles accidentally wandering in; I'm actually worried that the wizards attending the conference tonight might cause some kind of magical leak!

After much difficulty, they managed to persuade the two old wizards to leave and pointed them in the right direction to the venue.

Nymphadora complained, "Does the wizarding world never pay attention to Muggle society? Even if they came out in a robe, it would be more reasonable than those weird outfits."

“That’s just how it is. The Secrets Act has completely separated the two societies.” Kingsley shrugged. “Many wizards may never have met a Muggle in their entire lives, and all they know about Muggles is hearsay.”

"what!"

Nymphadora, who comes from a mixed-race family, doesn't understand this at all. As she is still an Auror intern, all she can do is grumble.

The two continued their patrol, encountering several other patrols along the way. They persuaded an old wizard, dressed only in boxer shorts, to turn back, arguing that he always dressed like this when he went to France.

The two finally completed their patrol and returned to their starting point, the WAC headquarters building.

Unlike the tranquility of other places, this place is bustling with noise.

Wizards of various costumes came and went in the lobby on the first floor of the building. Nymphadora saw Vaughn Weasley, who, along with Dumbledore, was in charge of greeting guests.

Watching the 12-year-old boy chatting and laughing with people from afar with such maturity and experience, the socially awkward Nymphadora was very envious.

"Kingsley, the newspapers say that Vaughn's election as the first president of the WAC is a foregone conclusion, is that right?"

“Hmm.” Kingsley nodded. He was very considerate of his old friend’s child and helped analyze the situation: “The werewolves will definitely choose him. They have no other choice. Dumbledore has a strong influence in Wissengamo. In addition, Vaughn Weasley has clashed with Fudge several times. Now Wissengamo is very satisfied with him and will not undermine him.”

"The International Federation's attitude is rather ambiguous. I heard that Babajid Akinbad attended a banquet at Malfoy Estate yesterday."

In conclusion, he said, "But the Federation won't make a move this time. Half of the committee seats are held by werewolves, and the other half by Wizengamo. Vaughn has too much of an advantage. As long as Akinbad isn't out of his mind, he absolutely won't make any moves—that would not only fail to strike Vaughn, but would also humiliate himself."

(End of this chapter)