Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 275 Vaughn: Are you a good person? Albus!

Ron interrupted her: "Maybe it happened after the event?"

"—Even if that's the case, it's impossible for an ordinary student to kill so many chickens with a spell. There are only a handful of students who can do it. Who would have the time to kill Hagrid's chickens? I'm more inclined to believe it was poison used by a lower-year student, most likely a freshman."

As she spoke, Hermione looked at Harry, and Ron followed suit.

Harry was baffled by their stares: "Why are you all looking at me?"

"Colin," Ron reminded him.

"The notebook," Hermione said almost explicitly.

Harry's eyes widened.

Hagrid, still sobbing beside him, hadn't heard clearly. Seeing the strange atmosphere among the three, he asked, his voice cracking, "What did you say?"

Harry quickly brushed it off, pulling Ron and Hermione aside: "You suspect Crevy was behind it? But he was at the club yesterday."

"Crivy is at the club, but his notebook isn't; perhaps it's bewitched other new students."

"But...why would it kill the chicken?" Harry stammered, voicing his confusion.

Hermione and Ron could both tell that Harry was subconsciously defending the notebook, perhaps because he didn't want to believe that the magical objects he had once been in contact with were so evil.

Or perhaps they don't want to have preconceived notions.

However, the doubts Harry raised are true.

If it's really a laptop, why would it kill a chicken?

Such baseless speculation naturally yielded no results, and the trio quickly gave up. In the end, the idea that the chicken killer was a minor wizard was merely Hagrid's personal deduction.

Afterwards, the three of them checked the chicken coop again. On the nearby ground, apart from the footprints left by Hagrid, Tooth, and the three of them, there were no other traces.

Even if it was there originally, it was completely disrupted by a rainstorm in the early morning.

There was absolutely no evidence to be found.

Hagrid is devastated because the chicken he raised with such care has died, and he still doesn't know who the killer is. Nothing can save him from this.

Hermione suggested he report it to Dumbledore, but Hagrid hesitated and then rejected the suggestion.

"He's already busy enough. He has to manage such a big castle. I've rarely seen him since the start of the semester. I only saw him at the dinner party yesterday, where he chatted with Vaughn for a bit. Dumbledore is becoming more and more elusive. I didn't even notice when he attended the dinner party."

He does not mean that.

Harry recalled yesterday, when he had a gut feeling that there was an unseen person lurking around Vaughn and Colin Crevey.

Could it be Dumbledore?

Do Vaughn and Dumbledore already know about the notebook?

Along with these questions came a sense of unease about how they would treat him for bringing his laptop to school.

While Harry was chewing on the sugar cakes and hot cocoa with a sense of unease, feeling uncertain about their outcome.

Inside the castle, Vaughn and Dumbledore had just clinked glasses.

"We're about to celebrate the start of our great plan."

Old Deng said this, and that old rascal winked at Vaughn: "Thank you for stalling Mr. Crevy enough time yesterday, giving me the opportunity to plant a hint in his little brain. See, he took action that very night."

Vaughn looked at the cup in his hand.

Dumbledore was drinking sherry, while his glass contained a mixed drink—it was unclear what was mixed in—he casually set it aside, and asked, "What kind of hint did you give Crevy?"

"Oh, not much. Tom is a master of memory magic. Even though the notebook contains his 16-year-old self, he is still a force to be reckoned with. The more you manipulate things, the more likely he is to discover the clues. So I only slightly altered some of Mr. Crevy's emotions."

"Emotions are contagious. I planted some little things in Crevy's emotions. They won't have any effect on Mr. Crevy himself, but when an external force intrudes, those little things will attach themselves to the intruder."

"They stir up the intruder's optimism, making him lower his guard and become positive and cheerful—human nature dictates that we cannot resist positive emotions. And this is your research, Vaughn. I must say, your understanding of human nature amazes me."

Vaughn ignored Old Deng's praise and simply asked, "So, Tom felt safe and took action last night?"

"Yes, but it was just a test; he killed Hagrid's chickens."

Dumbledore didn't explain why Tom's test involved killing Hagrid's chicken; he believed Vaughn understood.

Vaughn certainly understood, because the basilisk's natural enemy was the rooster.

Once the rooster is eliminated, the Basilisk can roam freely within Hogwarts, at least for a period of time.

This is indeed a good option to test the waters.

According to the notebook, if Vaughn and Dumbledore knew anything, the death of the chicken would immediately alert them and prompt them to take action.

For example, they could urgently purchase a batch of roosters to refill Haiger's chicken coop.

Conversely, if they do not take any action, it means that the situation is still under the notebook's control.

This kind of probing is rather radical. Last time, in order to avoid being exposed, the notebook had to hurt Mrs. Lorris, which resulted in Vaughn and Dumbledore being attracted. "Tom" in the notebook seemed to be a little scared because of this. Under normal circumstances, it would not choose this method.

But the stuff Dumbledore added to Crevy's little brain last night clearly made it lower its guard.

What Dumbledore wanted was for it to continue with its original strategy.

"We need to know what he's going to do," Dumbledore said. "The last time the Chamber of Secrets opened, Tom commanded the Basilisk to attack half-bloods and Muggle-bloods. At that time, he probably had no other purpose than to prove himself—if he wasn't attacked by the Chamber's heirs like the other pure-bloods, he could prove his bloodline and escape the discrimination brought about by his Muggle orphanage background."

"So for Tom, whether or not people die during the attack is not important to him. After all, his goal is not to carry out a massacre. This can be seen from the fact that in the previous attacks, the students were only injured. Only in the case of Myrtle Warren did he show murderous intent for the first time."

Neither Vaughn nor Dumbledore, who were in the know, could say for sure whether Tom Riddle's killing of Myrtle was intentional or accidental.

After all, Myrtle was bullied and hid in the bathroom, where she bumped into Tom and released the Basilisk.

Whether it was Tom's calculation or a coincidence, no one but Tom himself knows for sure.

What is certain, however, is that Tom Riddle at that time did not want to cause too much panic at the school, which would force him to return to the Muggle orphanage he hated.

Dumbledore took a sip of his drink and continued, "In fact, before him, the Chamber of Secrets was just a legend that no one believed anymore, and of course, no one could have known that there was a monster inside. If it was only to verify bloodlines by using the Chamber of Secrets heir, Tom wouldn't have needed to use the unstable Basilisk."

Hearing this, Vaughn had already guessed his logic: "So you think Tom had a compelling reason for using the Basilisk?"

"That's right." Dumbledore nodded. "I don't know the reason, which is why I need him to release the Basilisk. That way, I can verify my guess and see if the Basilisk is a Horcrux or if it has any other purpose besides killing."

Vaughn gave him a strange look: "You—are you going to let it kill people?"

"Of course not!"

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Child, how can you make such unfounded assumptions about me?"

Hmph, that's hard to say!

Vaughn knew very well that Dumbledore was not a purely good person from a young age. He was a complex collection of contradictions. The reason he was able to be a white wizard for over a hundred years was not because he was kind, but because he restrained himself.

To put it bluntly, if a person can restrain themselves, they can also indulge themselves.

Because his behavior is not dictated by external forces, but rather stems from his own beliefs.

That's terrifying; it means he only fears himself, nothing else!

However, these thoughts were indeed unfounded, and Vaughn didn't say anything more, because, in fact, he wasn't exactly a good person either.

He didn't dwell on it any longer and asked, "What's next? Are we just waiting for Tom to continue his actions?"

"Yes, Tom only needs to release the Basilisk, but we have much more to consider." Dumbledore shrugged. "The script of 'we can't disturb him, scare him away, and maintain fate' dictates that our intervention is limited; we can only wait."

Vaughn pursed his lips; he didn't like this strategy, it was too passive.

But Dumbledore was right, there was nothing that could be done about it.

"I'll take care of everything, my dear." Seeing Vaughn's indifferent expression, Dumbledore comforted him, "I promise I won't hold you back. All you have to do is monitor the notebook's movements for me. Other than that, you can do whatever you want."

"By the way, you mentioned last time that the second version of the wolfsbane medicine had been successfully developed. How's it going?"

Hearing that he wouldn't have to do anything next, Vaughn relaxed a bit. Holding the drink he was too lazy to taste, he teased Fox while replying, "It's still in the clinical trial stage. We'll conduct another large-scale trial on the night of the full moon this month, and then it should be ready for release."

"Very good. You've been staying at school all this time. If Amelia has any problems, she can only come to me. She's waiting for your second version of the potion to calm the current mood in the magical world."

The magical world has been in chaos lately, as always.

The divisions caused by the North American werewolf march have not diminished over time; on the contrary, public opinion has intensified.

To put it simply, werewolves have their own demands, and wizards have their own interests.

From the perspective of the North American werewolves, their parade was perfectly justified. An English wizard had killed two North American werewolves, and no matter what the specific reason was, they absolutely could not tolerate this phenomenon. Otherwise, wouldn't they, who were already far from home and had no popular support, be bullied by anyone?

However, some conservative English wizards believe that the accusations of "murdering two North American werewolves" and "handing over the murderer" are fabricated and are Yankees' conspiracy and excuses!

The core issue is that these Yankees are preparing to fight for living space!

For example, in recent days, the North American werewolves, who have been demanding that the Ministry of Magic hand over the murderer without much success, have put forward another demand that everyone is concerned about in order to attract more members to continue participating in the march. They have asked the English Ministry of Magic to take the lead, in conjunction with the C, to contact the Magical Congress of America to bring their relatives to the British Isles.

This demand indeed ignited the enthusiasm of a large number of North American werewolves, and C did not object. After all, although the werewolves' relatives were not werewolves, they were indirectly controlled by C because of their kinship.

It is the instinct of any organization to manipulate the boundaries of authority in areas where authority is ambiguous, and to touch and expand those boundaries.

The Ministry of Magic and the general public were in an uproar.

Previously, when C unified the werewolves in England, some people in the Ministry of Magic and the general public were already very unhappy. However, these werewolves came from the mainland, and they had never interfered with them before. So even if they had opinions, they only secretly supported Cornelius Fudge to take the lead. After Fudge was defeated by Vaughn time and time again, they stopped.

But this doesn't mean they will give in blindly, or that they don't want to restrict C or curb the werewolves' growing desire to increase their voice.

Equal rights are certainly justifiable, but the magical world is only so big; if there are more werewolves, there will be fewer wizards.

The last time The Daily Prophet published an article arguing that the North American werewolf march was a test of obedience, it attracted a large number of conservative supporters.

Following the emergence of the new demands of the North American werewolves, more and more previously silent wizards have written articles criticizing the Yankees' insatiable greed and analyzing the potential harm that their demands will bring to the English wizarding community.

Throughout history, the most difficult disputes for humankind to resolve can all be categorized as "taking sides."

This time is no exception.

From the moment North American werewolves first raised their demands and were refuted by a conservative wizard, to the present day when all "werewolfs" are labeled with the same tag, while opponents have spontaneously formed an anti-werewolf alliance.

Only a few days have passed.

The two sides formed two major camps and launched verbal attacks against each other in the newspapers.

Looking at the palpable tension between the lines and the increasingly extreme emotional outpourings, Amelia has been feeling quite overwhelmed lately.

The Ministry of Magic can feign death after stirring up conflict, because the Ministry of Magic doesn't actually have a department to manage werewolves and immigrants. To be precise, it does have a department to manage werewolves, but it just hasn't been doing anything about it before.

But she is different. In addition to being the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she is also part of the management of Wizengamo, and Wizengamo cannot ignore the dispute.

But there's nowhere to start.

No matter how extreme the conservatives' remarks are, they are still the people, the cornerstone of the magical world, and she cannot completely ignore their opinions.

At the same time, as a member of Committee C and the Executive Committee, Wizengamo could not ignore the legitimate rights and interests of the werewolves.

That evening, when Vaughn contacted Amelia through the fireplace, his ally poured out her grievances to him: "—I feel like I'm caught in the middle, the conflict is escalating, the Ministry of Magic is shirking all responsibility, and that coward Fudge, that weakling, when he encountered reporters, he denied that the Ministry of Magic had any authority over werewolves and told them to go to Wizengamot."

"But whose side can we take? We're even wrong to remain neutral. Both sides want us to come up with a solution to quell the dispute, but to be honest, Vaughn, I'm not confident I can come up with a solution that satisfies them both!"

The leaping flames outlined Amelia's weary face. She sighed, sparks flying from the fire. "I don't want to put pressure on you or disrupt your studies, but I really need you to finish the second version of the Wolfsbane Potion as soon as possible, assuming it really does allow werewolves to control their transformations during a full moon, just as you say!"

Vaughn, holding his teacup, asked calmly, "You want to eliminate the identity discrepancy between wizards and werewolves caused by their appearance through the self-controlled transformation of Wolfsbane Potion 2.0?"

Amelia nodded: "Yes—at least it gives everyone hope, the hope that a werewolf can eventually get rid of its wolfification and return to normalcy, instead of the current situation where werewolves are seen as outcasts by wizards and wizards are seen as outcasts by werewolves."

After thinking for a moment, Vaughn sighed, "Alright, I will finish the potion as soon as possible and announce it to the wizarding world—I have to apologize to you, Amelia. I should have been in charge of controlling the North American werewolves, but while I was at Hogwarts, the information I received was always delayed, making it difficult to truly influence them."

"I understand your difficulties, and this is to be expected," Amelia comforted her. "As long as you make a breakthrough in the wolfsbane medicine, you have already fulfilled your duty, and no one can criticize you for it."

The two chatted for a few more minutes before the call ended.

Vaughn didn't leave. He watched the campfire for a while, finished his tea, and then smiled meaningfully.

The ivory tower is a good protective shell, allowing him to use it as a pretext to distance himself from many affairs and maintain a unique state of neutrality.

Amelia was not unaware that he was hiding in Hogwarts using his studies as an excuse to avoid dealing with werewolf affairs, but the other party probably did not expect that he was the one who orchestrated the series of activities of the North American werewolves.

Because it is illogical and counterintuitive.

Logically, the North American werewolves were brought back by Vaughn Weasley, and he would only avoid getting into trouble if he ensured they behaved themselves.

Amelia, and even Dumbledore, who was used to playing with yarn, could never have imagined that he had no intention of integrating North American werewolves into England.

What he wanted was not a pack of docile hounds, but bloodthirsty wolves that were always ready to fight!

Of course, stirring up disputes behind the scenes does not mean letting them escalate.

"Werewolves who are completely detached from the organization are not easy for me to control, so I really have to take action to curb those ambitious individuals."

Of course, there are ambitious individuals among the North American werewolves.

Vaughn was well aware of this. He was able to instigate the North American werewolf uprising without the cooperation of those ambitious individuals, because they also needed an excuse to enhance their voice and prestige within the tribe.

This protest movement, which lasted for more than a month, stemmed from the unspoken understanding and mutual benefit between the two sides.

But now, the honeymoon period is over!

When I woke up, it was already daylight.

Matthew opened his eyes, as if he hadn't yet woken from a dream. He stared quietly at the bed frame that was right in front of him for a while before slowly crawling out from under the bed.

The bed was neatly made, with the blankets folded, as if it had never been used.

Matthew waved his wand, summoning a strong gust of wind to blow away the dust clinging to his body. He brewed himself a pot of black tea, then sat quietly in the living room, gazing at the bright sunshine outside the window.

That bright and beautiful scene did not belong to him.

Matthew's experiences over the past decade have made him accustomed to darkness and coldness, and light and warmth make him feel insecure.

He had another nightmare last night, as if he had returned to a night more than ten years ago, buried deep in his memory: the distorted pain, the violent roars, the wails of his parents, and Fenrir Greyback's joyful, wild laughter.

From that night on, he was completely dragged into the abyss.

What dragged him in was Graybuck's evil, as well as his own cowardice, weakness, and bestiality. He couldn't forgive himself, so he could only sink into depravity wrapped in sin.

Before meeting Vaughn Weasley, Matthew had imagined his own end many times. Perhaps one day he would die quietly in some corner, rotting and decaying in obscurity, decomposed by maggots, and become a pile of mud.

Or one day, when his heart breaks completely, he might roar and charge at Greyback, only to be scornfully torn apart by the English werewolf king.

No matter how he imagined it, Matthew didn't think he would have a good ending.

A person like him, or rather a werewolf, doesn't deserve it!

Matthew hates Greyback, but he hates wolf syndrome even more. Without wolf syndrome, there would be no Greyback, no him, and no tragedy for all those infected with wolf syndrome.

Even more tragically, werewolves are the source of infection for wolfification; as long as one werewolf lives, the dreaded disease will persist.

In Matthew's view at the time, only the deaths of all werewolves could truly stop the tragedy from continuing.

Such thoughts were too extreme, and Matthew himself knew it, so he resigned himself to his fate and followed Graybury, waiting for a hope of revenge that might never come.

Until he was captured by Vaughn Weasley —

The wisps of steam from the black tea rose before his eyes. Matthew looked out the window, his gaze unfocused, as the memory of their meeting that day resurfaced in his mind.

In the hazy, veiled memories, the 12-year-old boy with fiery red hair suddenly appeared before his eyes, like a quiet, dark night.

In his nearly 40 years of life, Matthew has met all sorts of people, most of whom are mediocre and insignificant, but some are exceptionally outstanding.

Especially in the years since he became a werewolf, following Greyback, he has seen many wizards that even Greyback dared not provoke.

Some are cruel demons who revel in slaughter, bathing in blood and sleeping on mutilated corpses; others are cunning devils who manipulate hearts and minds, controlling people like puppets, then laughing as they watch the poor wretches slowly descend into the abyss; still others are utterly indifferent to life, perhaps needing only a tiny reason to destroy a Muggle village without batting an eye.

Matthew is good at spotting such people, not because he is particularly adept at social skills. On the contrary, Matthew considers himself to have serious psychological problems and is a severe social phobia. He can distinguish them simply because he can smell their madness, numbness, ruthlessness, and viciousness—these are the qualities of a wizard, enough to shake the power of emotions in reality.

But over the years, Matthew has never met anyone like Vaughn Weasley.

How should I describe it?

Matthew picked up his teacup and took a sip. The bittersweet tea swished in his mouth. He gazed into the distance and saw a mountain range rising and falling on the edge of the city at the far end of his vision.

Behind them is the azure sky.

Perhaps we can use the sky as an analogy?

Lofty, vast, and profound—you can see him before your eyes, but on another level, such as the emotional level, he is completely non-existent in your perception.

Like the sky, it is something you can look at but never reach!

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