Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 298 The Charm of the White Demon King, and the Deification of Dumbledore!

Harry, while breaking off pieces of bread, glanced at Seamus, Neville, and the others who were no longer moving on the other side of the dormitory, and lowered his voice: "Don't keep looking like that. We promised Professor McGonagall that we wouldn't tell anyone about Vaughn's injury."

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't say it, but anyone could tell from your expression that you had something on your mind. And it looks like the dueling club event this week won't be going to happen. When everyone connects it to your unusual behavior today, who knows what kind of rumors will start spreading."

Harry quipped, but also sounded a bit curious: "I always thought you didn't like Vaughn, but it turns out you actually care about him quite a bit!"

Upon hearing this, Ron's expression stiffened for a moment, and he scratched his face. "Who cares about him? I'm just afraid of upsetting Mom. Humph, she dotes on Vaughn the most."

Ha, so stubborn!

Out of consideration for his good friend, Harry didn't expose him and casually brought up Vaughn's injury: "—I heard from Nick and Professor McGonagall that Vaughn's mental body was injured. What is a mental body?"

If it were anything else, then Ron, the academically challenged student, probably wouldn't be able to answer it.

But alchemy—Fred and George are experts in this field. When they first started practicing alchemy a few years ago, 10-year-old Ron served as their guinea pig for several months.

Although I don't have a talent for alchemy and don't understand much, I still know some basic concepts.

Ron gave Harry a briefing on the concept of the mind-body.

Hearing his best friend use a whole bunch of terms like "primary consciousness," "subconsciousness," and "subconsciousness," Harry felt a sense of déjà vu, as if he were back in the previous semester, learning Occlumency under Vaughn's tutelage.

Headache!

He then went straight to the point: "And what is consciousness?"

"Soul!" Ron exclaimed without hesitation. Seeing Harry looking at him, he explained, "That's what Vaughn calls it. He sometimes talks about alchemy with Fred and George. He thinks consciousness is a concept formed by the collapse of the soul in the real universe. There are also strange terms like energy space and higher dimensions, but I don't really understand them."

Harry only half understood, but he did understand why Ron was worried: "So, Vaughn's mental injury means his soul is injured?"

"Sigh, maybe—"

Harry was momentarily at a loss for words to offer comfort, so he could only awkwardly change the subject: "Do you think that so-called souls really exist?"

"Of course, otherwise where would the ghosts come from?"

—Oh, right!

Harry slapped his forehead, remembering last Halloween when he saw his parents in the Mirror of Erised, and Dumbledore had told him that after a wizard dies, his soul goes to another world.

But at that time, he only thought that the soul Dumbledore spoke of, like in Muggle society, was a benevolent lie.

Thinking it over, Harry murmured, "If souls really exist—where do they ultimately go?"

Ron, in the next bed, was speechless.

Even Banban, who had been secretly listening with his little eyes darting around since hearing that Vaughn was injured, suddenly stopped what he was doing in the cage on the bedside table, as if he had fallen into a memory.

Both he and "it" knew why Harry asked that question.

Harry quickly sensed the awkward atmosphere and smiled to cover it up: "Anyway, don't worry too much. Professor McGonagall said that Dumbledore came back specifically because of this. With him there, Vaughn will be fine soon."

Upon hearing this, Ron, though still looking gloomy, did sigh less frequently.

That's probably the charm of the White Demon King.

From the 20s, when Gettler Grindelwald led his Saints to rise to power and black wizards and magical terror swept across Europe and America, people realized for the first time how destructive power could be when personal strength was combined with ideological weapons.

But at the same time, the more powerful Grindelwald became, the more harm he caused, and the more Dumbledore, who was on par with him, benefited.

As the only white wizard of that era who could rival Grindelwald in both force and intellect, Dumbledore's image of being "omnipotent" began to take root in people's minds from that time onward.

Nearly 70 years later, Old Deng is almost deified in the hearts of ordinary wizards.

At least Ron, a young wizard still in school, greatly admires and trusts his headmaster.

After chatting with Ron for a while, Harry broke off all the bread in his hand and put it into Scabbers' cage, then prepared to go to sleep.

He and Ron agreed to go to the hospital to visit Vaughn early tomorrow morning when there are fewer people.

But as he crawled into bed, looking at Scabbers in the cage, who hadn't moved an inch since the beginning and hadn't even eaten his bread, he couldn't help but wonder, "Ron, does Scabbers have some kind of magical creature lineage?"

"I don't know—Percy didn't mention it. What's wrong?"

Scabbers was originally Percy's pet. Last year, when Ron was accepted into Hogwarts, Percy gave Scabbers to Ron as a gift.

Of course, Ron felt that Percy wasn't so kind; that guy probably wanted a different pet a long time ago, and giving him Scabbers was just an excuse.

But that doesn't stop Ron from liking Scabbers.

After all, this was the first thing he had ever owned in his entire life.

Ron got up and saw that the fat rat in the cage was motionless, as if it were in a daze. He quickly opened the cage and hugged it to his chest.

Seeing his nervous look, Harry explained, "It's been acting strange ever since we talked about Vaughn's injury. I doubt it can understand what we're saying."

"what?"

Ron looked bewildered at the fat rat in his hand and muttered, "Is it really that smart?"

Harry was a little puzzled: "Haven't you noticed its strangeness? Dudley used to raise guinea pigs—that poor little thing, it was literally overfed to death by Dudley. Of course, that's not important. What I'm trying to say is that these little animals are usually quite stupid, but Scabbers often acts very clever. For example, it's not afraid of you, me, or even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, except for Vaughn and Fruit Tea."

"That's perfectly normal!" Ron scoffed. "What mouse isn't afraid of a cat? As for being afraid of Vaughn—"

"Hmph, anyone with a brain would be afraid of that devil!"

Harry was a little speechless, but still said, "That's the problem. Have you ever seen Scabbers afraid of Mrs. Lorris?"

Ron often took Scabbers for walks, and it was common for them to run into Mrs. Lorris, who would often glare at him with predatory eyes.

This is one of the reasons why he hates that cat.

But—indeed, Banban has never been afraid of Mrs. Lorris!

"Besides, we're in frequent contact with Guoguocha too. You know, she's spoiled rotten by Vaughn like a little princess. When have you ever seen her catching mice in the castle? She even only eats dried fish! Only Banban, whenever she sees..."

She watched its every move.

Hearing this, Ron got a little impatient. His scalp tingled, as if it were about to grow a brain. He asked, "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Harry shrugged. "It's nothing. I was just guessing Scabbers might have some lineage you haven't discovered, don't you think? You said Scabbers has been in your house since you can remember. Can an ordinary mouse live that long?"

"...

'

Ron was now truly at a loss.

He pinned Banban down on the bed, trying to pry its legs open to check if it had any characteristics that didn't belong to a rat. As a result, Banban kicked him hard a few times and even struggled to bite him.

Ron had no choice but to put it back in the cage, saying dejectedly, "Maybe you're right, it might have some magical creature lineage, but clearly, it's not as smart as you think."

Harry was a little confused, but didn't think much of it.

The two chatted for a while longer, but soon their voices grew softer and softer until they started snoring.

Neither of them noticed that after they fell asleep, the dull little eyes of the spotted creature in the cage gradually began to show a human-like quality.

But at the same time, a thick white mist swept past its eyes.

The rat's face showed a struggle, sometimes blank, sometimes showing anger, fear, and joy, and its eyes alternated between a glint of intelligence and a white mist.

It wasn't until much later that it collapsed heavily, panting heavily, as if it had exhausted all its strength.

What's most chilling is that its skin and flesh ripple like water, twisting and changing, as if it's about to dissolve.

This change was still contained by the white mist that was spewing from his mouth and nose.

However, with the previous mental struggle and the current suppression of deformation, the thick white fog has thinned somewhat.

As the thinning white mist returned to his body, Scabbers opened his eyes, glanced at the sleeping Ron and Harry, and a strange glint flashed in his small dark eyes.

Somewhat shrewd, yet somewhat bewildered.

Its thoughts and memories are still confused. It is certain that its current state is abnormal. Hearing the name Vaughn Weasley makes it feel angry and fearful, while hearing that the other party is injured makes it feel genuine joy.

It knew that its mental abnormality was mostly caused by the other party.

But what normal person would use magic to deal with an ordinary mouse?

This discovery plunges it into terror every time it regains consciousness, yet it dares not do anything. Vaughn Weasley is incredibly powerful; this is both its subconscious perception and the result of logical reasoning.

Otherwise, how could its mind be disturbed by the curse cast by the other party?

The good news is, that horrible bastard is injured.

Banban's eyes flickered. During this time, it had been trying to figure out what was in its mind. That thing would monitor its thoughts and, once the conditions were met, would disrupt its mind.

Fortunately, he just tried it out, and the thing wasn't as powerful as before.

Weasley's injury seems to be affecting his magic?

"We need to think of a way to cause that guy some trouble!"

It thought.

A moment later, it secretly opened the cage, slipped onto the ground, looked around for a moment, and then ran towards Simon Finnigan's bed.

Harry and Ron woke up very early the next day, but their plan to visit Vaughn while there were few people around was ruined.

Because Simo Finigan got up earlier than them.

Also, while they were getting dressed, they saw Seamus chewing on his toothbrush, bragging to someone at the dormitory entrance: "This week's duel club is over."

Why?

"Vaughn is injured and is currently being treated at the university hospital. His condition is serious, and Dumbledore has even rushed back from abroad—this news is absolutely true, buddy, this is firsthand information from Harry and Ron!"

"Merlin, oh Merlin—"

The little lion at the entrance groaned.

It was also a lament from Harry and Ron's hearts.

They quickly got up, dragged Simo into the chapel, and interrogated him about how he knew.

With foam all over his mouth and a bewildered look on his face, Simo said, "You guys said that!"

"us?"

"Of course, you guys were chatting so loudly last night that you woke me up. But thankfully I was awake, otherwise I wouldn't have heard this terrible news. If the dueling club can't be held this week, I'm afraid I'll be at the bottom of the class again next week. Speaking of which, you guys are really not being fair—"

Simo vehemently criticized the two for their "malicious concealment."

Completely oblivious to the annoyed expressions on Harry and Ron's faces.

They knew they were in big trouble. As Gryffindors, they knew all too well just how loud and unrestrained the lion cubs' loudspeakers were.

Sure enough, by the time the two had quickly washed up and arrived at the Great Hall, news of Vaughn's injury and hospitalization had already spread throughout all four houses.

Thanks to Vaughn's immense reputation at Hogwarts, everyone at the long table shared this information and discussed heatedly what could have caused the powerful Vaughn Weasley to be injured.

The bad thing is that no one doubted the authenticity of the news, because all the "rumor-mongers" emphasized that it was "Harry and Ron's firsthand information".

Harry and Ron were both numb.

The rumors had spread to such an extent that the two were powerless to reverse the situation. They could only finish their breakfast on pins and needles, and then, trembling with fear, they watched Professor McGonagall walk into the Great Hall, her face stern and her cold, captivating eyes fixed on them.

But she didn't scold the two of them, or even say a word to them.

Professor McGonagall was clearly disappointed in them.

This point was revealed by the "insidious Snape" in today's Potions class: "Potter, Weasley, I heard you were spreading the word about Vaughn's injury all day."

As Potions class began, Snape, robes billowing, slid down to Harry and Ron's seats, looking down at them with narrowed eyes and flared nostrils, as if facing two lumps of rotting flesh: "I also heard that Professor Minerva McGonagall specifically instructed you not to reveal any information about Vaughn, lest some guys at the school take advantage of it, and you swore you would, didn't you?"

"Professor, I—"

"You just need to answer me, yes or no, Potter!"

'

""

Harry was speechless. He knew that the other party hadn't come to reason with them, and the outcome was already predetermined.

Sure enough, Snape, unsurprisingly, punished the two of them with a "10-point deduction from Gryffindor" for deceiving the professor, and cruelly expelled them from Potions class.

They call it: Holy potions don't need liars and big mouths!

"I bet—no, I'm sure he's been wanting to do this for a long time; he's just looking for an excuse to humiliate us!"

Ron said angrily, then turned to shout, "And Seamus Finigan, that damn big mouth!"

They were on their way to Hagrid's hut—after being kicked out of the Potions classroom, the two were too ashamed to stay in the hallway and become a spectacle, too ashamed to see Vaughn, and even more afraid of running into Hermione at the library. After discussing it for a while, they decided to go to Hagrid's place to hide from the limelight.

Harry sighed. "It's not his fault, it's just that we weren't careful enough."

"Stop making excuses for others, Harry. We confirmed it before our conversation yesterday; Seamus was definitely pretending to be asleep and eavesdropping on us!"

Harry agreed, but he didn't want to say anything more. What's done is done, and complaining wouldn't make a difference.

All he wants now is to escape to Hagrid's place.

By the end of November, the Scottish Highlands were already quite cold, with a cold front from the North Sea dominating the skies. Although the weather had been relatively good during this period, the long lawns along the way to Hagrid's Lodge inevitably turned yellow and withered.

This is especially true for the Forbidden Forest.

As they crossed the hill and Hagrid's Hut came into view, Harry and Ron noticed that the Forbidden Forest, which had been lush and green just two days ago, had turned into a riot of colors.

Some trees have completely lost their summer colors, while others are camellias and hyacinths blooming in large swaths just before summer ends.

Hagrid's cabin sits on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, amidst its rich colors and falling leaves.

It's as beautiful as a fairy tale—it would be even more beautiful if it weren't for Yaya running around with his tongue wagging wildly and drool flying everywhere, and Hagrid dragging an axe, carrying a deer carcass, his fur stained with blood, looking like a wild man at first glance.

"Hey Harry, Ron, great news! I just hunted a deer and was just about to write to invite you guys over for a venison feast!"

Hagrid greeted him warmly from afar.

Harry and Ron shook off the toothy guy, who was even more enthusiastic than Hagrid and had spit spittle all over their faces, and moved closer.

"Is today a holiday, Hagrid?"

Ron asked.

This was the first time they had ever seen Hagrid hunt such a large prey. Usually, he would only hunt small animals like rabbits that reproduce quickly and can harm the grasslands.

"There are no holidays. Halloween just passed, and Christmas is still a long way off. It's just that recently, deer and other animals have become quite abundant in the Forbidden Forest. You know, a lot of ferocious magical creatures have joined your practical courses. Plus, the giant wolf tribe, along with C and the centaurs, have learned farming and herding. Um, what did Vaughn say again—oh, ecological niche imbalance!"

"In short, I need to hunt more deer lately, lest they devour the forest—"

Before he could finish speaking, a loud bang came from the other side of the pumpkin patch that Hagrid had cleared behind the cabin, hidden among the sparse trees.

A few strands of silvery light swirled among the orange-red leaves and treetops.

Hagrid looked away and shrugged at the two of them: "Of course, it's also to entertain our guests. Vaughn and Hermione are over there, and Dumbledore is too. Would you like to go check them out?"

Hagrid's pumpkin patch was recently expanded and now extends right into the forest line of the restricted forest, situated in a buffer zone between grassland and forest.

Sparse, small trees that have eroded out of the forbidden forest are scattered about, not forming a dense woodland, but in this late autumn they offer the best views.

Looking up, you can see the vast autumn sky; looking down slightly, you can see the changing colors of the trees; and under your feet, you can hear the unique rustling of falling leaves, a hallmark of the forest.

But Harry and Ron had no interest in appreciating any of this.

The two of them, hesitant and timid, stumbled through the pumpkin patch and peeked at Vaughn, who was casting a spell in the woods, clinging to a sycamore tree. Vaughn, Hermione, and Dumbledore had also noticed them.

"How dare they even come here!"

Hermione was furious.

Dumbledore quickly stopped her: "They've been taught a lesson. It should be Potions class now, but they're here. I believe Severus kicked them out, and that's punishment enough."

That's not necessarily true!

Knowing her two best friends' personalities well, Hermione thought to herself while complaining aloud, "If it weren't for their big mouths, so many people wouldn't have gone to the school hospital to bother Vaughn, forcing him to move out. And as you said, the board of trustees might use the injury to accuse Vaughn of conducting dangerous magical experiments at school, which would put us in a very passive position."

"Well----"

Dumbledore had nothing to say and couldn't stop Hermione any longer, but he advised, "Be more lenient with them, my dear."

Dumbledore watched the girl stride away, and soon after, her sharp rebuke rang out. He shook his head and said to Vaughn, "She has quite the temper."

Having just cast a Guardian Charm and resting to recover his energy, Vaughn remained noncommittal, casually asking, "Has the Board of Trustees made any moves?"

"Not yet, but they'll most likely come forward eventually, they just might not be ready yet." Then, Dumbledore suddenly asked, "Do you really think it's Harry and his friend who's big mouths?"

"What are you doubting?" Vaughn glanced at him. "Harry and Ron are indeed a bit unreliable when it comes to secrecy, but that's in normal circumstances. This concerns me, and Professor McGonagall has given me instructions. The two of them—at least Ron—won't deliberately leak information."

Harry might be a different story.

However, Dumbledore didn't speculate too much on this subtext, but simply said, "So someone's involved? Are there any suspects?"

Vaughn did not speak.

He didn't really suspect Harry. After hearing the rumors at school, his first suspicion was actually about the notebook, or—Peter Pettigrew!

Vaughn could sense that as his mental body was damaged, the persona he created, which was made from his emotions, thoughts, and distractions, was also weakening.

Especially those implants that are detached from his inner world and implanted into other people's bodies.

They are isolated on the outside, and their decay cannot be replenished, making them very vulnerable to exploitation.

He didn't reveal his speculation, paused for a moment, and changed the subject: "I will investigate this matter myself after I have recovered."

As he spoke, he raised his wand again.

Without the chanting of incantations, a flick of the wrist sent a plume of silver-blue smoke shooting from the tip of the staff, forming a large, shimmering cloud of silver-blue mist in the air.

A translucent cat leaped out of the clouds, running and jumping merrily through the air, finally stopping at Vaughn's feet and slowly licking its paws.

After silently watching him finish casting the spell, Dumbledore asked, "How long do you expect it to take you to recover?"

"It will take about two weeks. It's a bit more difficult than expected to summon positive emotions and contemplate a spiritual sanctuary. It also takes time for my physical strength to recover."