Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 334 The New Pureblood Leader—Vaughn Weasley!

He wanted some peace and quiet, but he couldn't find any peace at all.

The damned Death Eaters around them gradually quieted down. They were just crazy, not stupid. If they made too much noise, they would attract the Dementors.

But why should they be able to keep quiet?

After lying there for an unknown amount of time, lost in a jumble of thoughts, Sirius suddenly sat up.

He sat in the darkness, looking out of the cell, and said, "Bella, Regulus is dead."

His voice was calm, as if he were saying, "The weather is alright today."

Bella's reply was equally calm: "Hmm, wasn't he already dead?"

"He was killed by Voldemort."

"Oh, he definitely deserves it." Bella chuckled. "It must be because he disobeyed his master, any bastard who disobeys his master—"

boom!

A loud bang interrupted Bella's casual remarks.

Despite the complete darkness, Bella, and even the Death Eaters in the surrounding cells, could still vaguely see Sirius's figure crash heavily into the cell's iron bars.

Even in the deep darkness, one could almost see his scarlet eyes.

Madness, hysteria!

Sirius Black cursed with a heart-wrenching rage: "You bitch! You heartless beast! That was your brother! Voldemort killed him, killed him, and you're saying it's good he died!"

"Ah ah yi"

The curses turned into a venting roar, and the gradually tearing sound was filled with unbearable regret and pain, pain so intense that it drove him to madness.

He slammed his fist against the iron fence repeatedly, making a loud thud.

The railings rattled, making a harsh, scraping sound.

Bella, who had been laughing and enjoying his inexplicable madness as a joke, suddenly changed her expression: "You're crazy! This will attract spirits—"

Before he could finish speaking, Sirius Black interrupted him with a roar: "Come on, I'm going to lure those monsters out—I can't feed them all by myself, they'll suck you all dry, and you'll all die together!"

"you--"

Bella's eyes widened as her long, tangled hair fell down, but her scream stopped abruptly the next second.

A cold gust of air appeared out of nowhere.

At the same time, faint white frost marks, visible even in the darkness, slowly spread down from the ceiling, along the walls, and the iron railings.

The stone walls creaked and groaned in the sudden drop in temperature, like the footsteps of some invisible monster closing in.

The moisture from their breath quickly condensed into white mist. In the increasingly blurred vision, everyone could see a group of fluttering rags slowly emerging from the ceiling and walls of the corridor outside the cell, exuding a chilling aura.

Although their evil, empty faces cannot be seen, the moment they appear, everyone can feel the restless greed deep within these damned rags.

They surrounded Sirius.

The sound of sucking suddenly rang out, like the hiss of a venomous snake, or like water falling into an abyss and fading into the distance, leaving only an empty echo.

Sirius fell down.

The Dementors didn't kill him, but they drained all his emotions and conscious will. He became lethargic, and his thoughts sluggish as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

In the final moments before his consciousness faded into darkness, he saw the unsatisfied monsters scatter in all directions, heard Bella's screams turn into whimpers, and heard the Lestrange brothers' roars turn into mournful cries.

They heard the Death Eaters go from cursing to begging for mercy, and then gradually their voices faded.

Even though Sirius's mind had been drained and exhausted by the Dementors, he still managed to squeeze out a trace of pleasure at this moment.

"Die, all of you—you all deserve to die—Ray Gouler, I'm sorry—"

It snowed again in London early this morning, and Muggle volunteers at Grimmauld Place were clearing the thick snow with various tools.

But no one noticed that a previously unseen number 12 had quietly appeared between numbers 11 and 13 in Grimmauld Place.

Blake's Old House!

The Muggle-repelling charms, confusion charms, and peace-guarding spells that were fixed outside the house made the Muggles blind to its existence.

Even wizards might overlook it if they're not paying attention.

In reality, it had been hidden for over a decade. As the Black family declined, the last generation either died or went to jail, and the insane Walbugar hid it away. Over a decade was enough for the wizarding world to forget about it many times over.

Dressed in a suit and cashmere coat, looking like a Muggle middle-class man, Barty Crouch stood with a cane at the entrance of Black's old house, giving one the illusion of time passing by and a different world.

Of course, for him, that might not be an illusion.

After all, the last time he visited this family, he was the incomparably prestigious Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and a strong contender for the next Minister of Magic.

At that time, the Black family was led by pure-bloods, and even the infamous Dark Lord tried to win them over.

In the end, both he and Blake fell from grace overnight amidst their flourishing success.

Thinking it over, old Crouch sighed inwardly, then picked up his cane and solemnly knocked a few times on the tightly closed door of the old house.

He didn't have to wait long. After a short while, the old house gate opened, and an old elf wrapped in tattered rags appeared behind the door. His large eyes reflected his image, and his voice was deep: "Good morning, Mr. Crouch."

"Ah, Kreacher, it's been a long time."

"Yes, esteemed Lord Crouch, the last time I saw my two old masters were still alive, but now they have both rotted to ashes, with only their trousers remaining to keep Crouch company."

"—Ahem, is Vaughn awake? He invited me here—"

"Yes, yes, the great young master Vaughn is waiting for you, please come in!"

Before coming, Crouch had imagined that the declining Black family might be in dire straits.

But when Crouch stepped through the gate and saw the interior of the house with his own eyes, he was still shocked by the cobwebs, dust, and mold that covered the living room.

This ancient family, now without its master's protection, vividly displays its decline.

However, Kreacher didn't seem too discouraged: "—After the mistress died, Kreacher was in a daze for a long time, neglecting to clean and tidy up, completely forgetting his duties—useless Kreacher! Useless Kreacher!"

He hugged the pillar and banged his head against it a few times, then, sucking out blood from his nose, he smiled and said, "Don't worry, Mr. Crouch, now Master Vaughn has given Kreacher renewed confidence and hope. In a little while, you will see that the Black House will be restored to the way you last saw it."

Crouch's cheek twitched, and he gave an awkward laugh. "I'm looking forward to it—okay, Kreacher, where's Vaughn now? Take me to him!"

"Please come with me. Young Master is organizing the Black family's collection of books in the library. He hasn't come out for two days. Oh, he's truly the most knowledge-loving wizard Kreacher has ever seen—Sirius is nowhere near as good, nowhere near as good. That unfilial son of a bitch, he's the best!"

"Stay in Azkaban forever —"

Crouch decided to change the subject: "Kreacher, why do you call Vaughn 'Young Master'?"

"Because young master Vaughn saved young master Regulus, and also saved Kreacher, and Kreacher liked him. Of course, there was also the entrustment of Lord Phineas Black, who said that young master Vaughn was also part of the Black family—"

Before Kreacher could finish speaking, a pale-skinned old witch rushed over from a framed painting in the corridor they were walking down, roaring, "You lowly elf, Phineas is long dead! He has no right to decide who Black is, and he shouldn't even think about letting a vile Weasley taint my pure family!"

The next moment, Phineas Black appeared, panting. He punched his great-granddaughter to the ground and hurriedly greeted Crouch: "Hey, dear Buddy, good morning."

"Good morning, Phineas. When are you going back to the Ministry of Magic? The painting you left there has been sitting empty for a long time."

.

"Oh, I'm busy for now. You see—damn crazy woman, jinx, shut up! I should have strangled you when you were born (Phineas died in 1925, the same year Walbuga was born)—you see Batty, I'm busy dealing with family matters, we'll talk later."

The picture frames clattered and rattled, and the grandfather and grandson cursed and fought, which somehow brought a bit of liveliness to the dilapidated house.

Kreacher led Crouch away, explaining to him as he went, "The mistress has been very upset lately, you know. She can't accept Master Regulus's behavior. She caused a scene at home, angering Master Vaughn, who locked her in a black-painted picture frame. He only let her out this morning, so she's quite agitated."

Yes, I understand.

Two days ago, Vaughn told him and Amelia about Regulus, and to be honest, he found it hard to believe when he heard it.

When Regulus disappeared, he was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he was in charge of investigating the case.

Frankly, he wasn't paying attention, because everyone knew Regulus was following Voldemort, and the environment was chaotic at the time.

The Death Eaters launched a frenzied attack on Muggles and wizards, and his Aurors also hunted down Death Eaters everywhere. Almost every day, people in England died violently.

He assumed Regulus had been killed by one of the Aurors, so he quickly closed the case after giving a perfunctory explanation.

Now it seems—

Crouch was feeling rather heavy-hearted and lost interest in saying anything more.

Having regained hope, Kreacher became more understanding and sensible. Seeing this, he stopped nagging and considerately led Crouch to the family library in silence.

The library is located in a magically hidden underground room that can only be opened by those with the Black bloodline.

Judging solely from bloodline, Vaughn barely meets the requirements, but Phineas helps him get in through connections.

When Crouch found the hidden room with Kreacher's help, Vaughn was standing among bookshelves piled high with all sorts of books, bathed in the dazzling light that shimmered from the surrounding aura, flipping through a magic book with an intricately decorated cover that was emitting green smoke.

Crouch, born into a pure-blood family, recognized it immediately: "Witch Poison?"

Vaughn looked up and greeted, "Good morning, Buddy. Yes, this magic book, written in the Middle Ages, is very rare to find outside. Even the forbidden section of Hogwarts doesn't have it. The Black family's collection is far richer than I imagined."

Upon hearing this, Crouch remained expressionless, but suddenly, for reasons unknown, he said, "The Crouch family also has some. If you'd like, I can open my library for you to read."

Vaughn glanced at him and smiled. "Thank you, dear Buddy. I won't be shy if I have time. — Kreacher, prepare breakfast. We'll eat before we set off."

Next to the library is a small lounge, probably where the Blakes used to relax between reading sessions. It has been cleaned up and is temporarily Vaughn's.

Leading Crouch to the lounge, Vaughn patted the spellbook in his hand and said, "This contains a lot of obscure ancient potion knowledge, and even a lot of alchemy that predates the theory of the Golden Soul."

Potions originated from alchemy. In other words, before the Golden Soul proposed the theory of the origin of all things, alchemy was simply a profession of brewing potions.

Even today, the elixir of immortality remains the pinnacle of alchemy.

This was knowledge that everyone in the wizarding world had learned. Crouch frowned. "You believe that the stone basin left by Voldemort in that cave wasn't from the modern system?"

"It's very possible that the magic Tom designed in the cave was also from an ancient system—I couldn't find any trace of the rituals, which is why I asked you to come. Barty, you are the most senior among us, and the Crouch family has the longest history."

Crouch's serious face softened into a slight smile.

Yes, Vaughn summoned him to study the seaside caves.

He was pleased that Vaughn chose to ask him for help when he encountered problems, which he saw as a sign that Vaughn was willing to further deepen their relationship.

He had been paying attention to the changes in the pure-blood families' attitudes toward Vaughn during this period.

As one of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Clans, Crouch was well aware of the purebloods' mentality.

In Crouch's view, the purebloods, or rather the leaders of the pureblood families, have always been well aware of one fact:

People are terrified of Muggles!

This fear is not the same as the disgust and dread that pure-blood families at the bottom of the social hierarchy, brainwashed by the maxim of "eternal purity," feel towards Muggles as "dirty" and "despicable."

Rather, the leaders who are high-ranking members of the magical world and have established the rules of the magical world know that, in the face of the Muggle's massive population, the existing pure-bloods have no advantage whatsoever!

In the system of magic, where power resides within itself, wizards are the true "hard currency," the foundation for the long-term stability of families and power.

But the reality is that, in terms of both the probability and stability of producing wizarding talent, Muggles, relying on their sheer size, far outnumber purebloods.

This understanding dates back to the Middle Ages, when pure-bloods generally acknowledged that they were simply bad, not stupid.

Therefore, regardless of whether it was the Middle Ages, they colluded with Muggle regimes and the Papacy to promote the "witch hunt".

Later, they used the fear of witch hunters and the public about the "witch hunt" to promote the "International Secrecy Law".

Then came the rise of Grindelwald and the Saints in the 20s-40s, and the rampage of Voldemort and the Death Eaters in the 60s-80s.

These were all attempts by purebloods to protect their own interests out of fear of Muggles.

Unfortunately, all of these attempts failed.

The witch hunt was both a success and a failure. It was a success because it tore Muggles and wizards into two camps by creating killing and hatred.

Its failure stemmed from the fact that hatred was not fully carried out. On the one hand, Muggles cannot remain ignorant forever; lacking magic, they surprisingly forged a scientific path.

On the other hand, there are also the stubborn forces in the magical world—the various magic schools, who have always opposed pure-bloods for their own benefit.

The subsequent "International Secrecy Act" also failed. In a sense, it did effectively curb the trend of Muggles and wizards merging again after the decline of the witch hunts in the 17th century.

But it also created a deformed monster: the International Federation of Wizards!

Because of the voting mechanism of cerebral palsy at that time, the smaller and more dispersed the organization, the greater the voice of the association system, which is based on interests. Therefore, the association naturally stands in opposition to the system of "family" which is based on bloodline centralization.

By the end of the 20th century, that out-of-control behemoth had seized a great deal of the rights that originally belonged to the pure-bloods, and there was no single authoritarian entity in the world that could rival it.

It can be said that the rise of Grindelwald and the Saints was an attempt at a global confrontation between purebloods and the Federation.

Voldemort was also an attempt by a pure-blood to challenge the Federation within England—the current system of the Ministry of Magic and the people were just unlucky victims.

The failures of both dealt a heavy blow to the power of the pure-blood families, especially Voldemort's defeat, which nearly dragged all the pure-blood families of England into the abyss.

Frankly speaking, in 1992, the purebred race was already standing on the edge of a precipice.

This is also the consensus among the current leaders of pure-blood families.

Repeated failures damage not only interests, but also one's mindset.

As far as Crouch knew, several years ago, the purebloods, who had finally managed to lick their wounds in a corner, fell into confusion and division.

A small minority still pinned their hopes on Voldemort—although everyone publicly said Voldemort was dead, many people, like Dumbledore, were skeptical, thinking that a legendary wizard couldn't be so easily killed.

The other large group consists of those who are confused and divided. They have suffered heavy losses. Some families want to turn around and find new ways, some families are prepared to lie down and wait to die, and some—are already dead. The Blake family is not the only one left with only elves to maintain the old house.

In reality, the Crouch family were among those who simply accepted the situation passively.

For Crouch at that time, his son's rebellion and betrayal had indeed prevented him from giving any serious thought to the family's problems.

Even his initial collaboration with Vaughn was solely due to his son, without considering any other factors.

Until the middle of the year.

After visiting North America, Vaughn brought back a large number of werewolf wizards. Some people were panicked by this, and some tried to suppress them. All these actions were ultimately due to the fact that Vaughn and his C had greatly increased their power.

Therefore, while some people fear and suppress, others naturally find another way and discover a new possibility: a new pure-blooded leader!

Produce