Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 73 Vaughn's Speech

At that moment, the more than one hundred people sitting in the hall fell silent the instant Vaughn spoke.

They looked at, stared at, and scrutinized the child.

Vaughn ignored those stares, his gaze passing over Fudge's stiff smile, past the crowd, and looking out the luxurious floor-to-ceiling windows of the hall at the snow-covered streets.

He was telling a story, a true story.

"Many people are curious about why I developed the wolfsbane drug. I haven't responded because I didn't know how to explain it to others. Don't misunderstand, I was just worried that you wouldn't understand!"

The podium amplified his voice, making it reach everyone's ears.

At the entrance to the hall, Dumbledore, who had been missing for a long time, was standing there. He held his elder wand, the tip of which rested casually on the glass, and imperceptible ripples spread out.

A silent opening appeared in the glass and in the hall itself, which was a magical alchemical artifact, allowing sound waves to travel outside.

"That was when I was about six years old. One day I saw a document my father brought home. It was a request from the Department of Magical Creature Control for interdepartmental personnel transfers. They needed some new staff to assist with the work of two subordinate departments, namely the Beast Office and the Alien Office..."

At this point, Vaughn paused. He noticed that some people in the crowd were still confused, while some Ministry of Magic officials, who seemed to understand what Vaughn was about to say, looked puzzled, as if they didn't understand why he was bringing this up.

Vaughn lowered his eyelids slightly: "They need new manpower. Transfer them to the Werewolf Registry in the Beast Office, the Werewolf Capture Project Team, and the Werewolf Support Service in the Alien Office!"

"Those of you here probably can't comprehend the shock a child felt at the time—why would a werewolf's question be placed in the Beast Office? I always thought that's where dragons, ghouls, and vixens are managed..."

Outside, hearing the sounds coming from the auditorium, the Aurors emerged from various corners of the street.

To ensure everything went smoothly today, Fudge, disregarding Rufus Scrimgeour's protests, dispatched dozens of Aurors to Diagon Alley.

Of course, for the sake of the guests' mental health, especially the mental health of those pure-blood families, Mr. Fudge did not allow the Aurors to appear in front of everyone and get in the way.

Delrich, who passed the Auror exam last year, was still a newcomer. He listened silently to the childish voice coming from the Great Hall and asked the captain beside him, the veteran Auror Kingsley Shackler:

"Captain, is it true?"

"Um……"

Kingsley nodded silently.

Delrich hesitated for a moment, then said, "I always thought werewolves had a separate department to manage them, how could they... put them in the Beasts' Office?"

Kingsley did not answer. Many young people who joined the Ministry of Magic had asked this question, but had all forgotten about it as they grew older.

No one knows how this discrimination came about or how it gradually developed. After spending a long time in the Ministry of Magic, I always felt that from the very beginning, wizards never considered werewolves as human!

The Aurors around him had strange expressions; some were disdainful, some were thoughtful, and some were uneasy.

Suddenly, a commotion came from the beginning of Diagon Alley, towards the Leaky Cauldron. The closest Auror, named Savick, frowned and looked over.

He saw more than a dozen ragged people walking cautiously through the iconic narrow archway at the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Hey, who are you? Diagon Alley is closed today, all shops are temporarily closed. If you need anything, please come back this afternoon!"

"Did you hear me? Stop!"

Those people ignored his warnings; they heard the voices coming from inside the auditorium:

"...I thought everyone would have a fair attitude towards werewolves, recognizing them as victims of fervor, but I haven't seen anyone like that in recent years..."

Vaughn's voice echoed over Diagon Alley, and Shawick noticed that the dozen or so homeless men suddenly shed tears in response to that voice.

Shawick didn't want to think about what was wrong with them. He drew his wand: "Conviction—"

Before the spell was even finished, a homeless man with a hideous scar on his face, who was walking at the front, raised his wand and emitted a red light, instantly knocking Shawick away.

"Enemy attack—"

"Damn it, they're werewolves!"

All the Aurors noticed the commotion because of the disarming charm; some raised their wands in preparation for a counterattack, while others ran toward the Great Hall.

Just then, Kingsley Shackleton shouted, "Stop! What are you doing?"

"team leader……"

Some people tried to defy the order, but Kingsley ignored them, staring in shock at the archway at the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Others looked over as well, and then felt a chill run down their spines—

One, ten, one hundred...

More and more homeless, haggard people walked over from that direction.

In the blink of an eye, the other side was a dense, dark crowd.

Roughly speaking, there were several hundred people, with the first dozen or so wizards leading the way, and they were walking in this direction.

As far as the eye could see, there were only hordes of heads!

They're all... werewolves!

Delrich swallowed hard in fear. He had never seen so many werewolves gathered together before. Although, in theory, werewolves that had not transformed were not much of a threat, and many werewolves were unable to transform on their own.

Unfortunately, the magical world has failed to solve the problem of werewolves losing their minds, but they have invented a potion that can force werewolves to transform...

His eyes trembled as he looked at Kingsley, only to find that his captain didn't seem too afraid.

Delrich looked closely and realized that the werewolves hadn't made any threatening moves; they were just staring intently at the Great Hall behind the Aurors with excited expressions and complex emotions.

They...are listening to the child inside!

Delrich suddenly realized.

"Everyone, get out of the way!" Kingsley ordered.

This time, no one resisted. The dense horde of werewolves before them left them bewildered, and they instinctively obeyed Kingsley's orders, moving to the sides of the street.

The down-on-his-luck werewolf wizard at the head of the group nodded his thanks to Kingsley, then continued walking toward the Great Hall.

Everyone was quiet. What struck Delrich was that he saw many children in the crowd, holding their parents' hands and walking with the adults in the snow. The falling snow seemed to capture the intense emotions in their eyes, and they chose to walk around it.

The commotion on the street outside was also noticed inside the auditorium.

Many people stood up in surprise, watching the ragged people gradually approach. Below the podium, Umbridge clung tightly to Fudge's arm, while Fudge's face was ashen and pale.

The Wizengamo members on the second floor were whispering amongst themselves.

From the podium, Vaughn took in everyone's expressions; he saw their astonishment, panic, and curiosity.

The werewolves finally stopped outside the hall, their gazes filled with both anticipation and trepidation.

Vaughn, like everyone else, looked at the crowd standing in the snow, at the old people and children among them, and raised his wand, pointing it at them.

Magic made his voice travel to the heavens:

"Ladies and gentlemen, tell me, are these people standing before you beasts or men?"

The crowd in the auditorium reacted differently to Vaughn's questions.

Some purebloods remained expressionless, as if the werewolves outside the door were nothing but weeds, and nothing could shake their resolve and perseverance.

Other purebloods are more complex; they whisper among themselves and point fingers at others. These people come from pureblood families that are more open-minded.

As for the journalists from England and other countries, they were now snapping photos of the wolf pack. What was originally an ordinary award ceremony had suddenly turned into this, which was obviously big news.

No one answered Vaughn's question.

The first type of purebloods always have a superior mentality. Don't expect to find someone to play the victim in front of them or to make them feel compassion with a soul-searching question. Those people's minds have long been destroyed and hardened by the concepts of "pureblood supremacy" and "family supremacy". Vaughn has never regarded them as targets.

Only the second type of purebloods, and those reporters, were his main focus.

If he hadn't fooled Fudge and used Fudge's and the Ministry of Magic's names, he really wouldn't have been able to find these people!

Amidst the continuous clicking of camera shutters, Vaughn answered his own question:

"In my opinion, they live worse than wild animals. Does anyone know why they are in such a wretched state?"

The second group of purebloods, along with the reporters and even the Wizengamo members on the second floor, looked at each other in bewilderment.

Among the expressionless First-Class purebloods, one suddenly scoffed, "I don't want to know how some stupid idiots got themselves into poverty by being lazy and good-for-nothing, right, Weasley?"

Vaughn looked over and saw a guy whose face he felt was unworthy of being remembered.

But I remembered the surname; Fudge had been mentioned before.

Selwyn, one of the 28 Holy Races, is a well-known radical among purebloods.

Selwin seemed to think he was being funny, and after he finished speaking, he burst into laughter. Several people around him also laughed along. Then they saw Vaughn on the podium raise his wand with a cold expression and point it at them!

Selwin flew into a rage: "What, you want to cast a spell on me, Weasley? Then I'll teach you a lesson on behalf of your parents, and remove your weapon—"

Red light shot out from the tip of his staff.

Vaughn casually swept his hand across his body, revealing a powerful suit of armor with a clear outline.

To everyone's astonishment, the red light struck the object without causing a ripple. Only then did Vaughn, who had been waiting for the other side to make the first move, slowly chant the incantation.

An even more dazzling and powerful disarming spell shattered the armor spell that Selwyn had hastily summoned, sending him flying.

The wand spun and landed in Vaughn's hand!

Things happened very quickly. It wasn't until Selwin fell to the ground that the others reacted. A middle-aged man quickly drew his wand and rushed onto the podium to shield Vaughn. The reporters then quickly turned their attention to Vaughn and the fallen Selwin, snapping photos of them frantically.

The middle-aged man was named Oliver Prewitt. You can tell why he stood up for Vaughn just by looking at his surname—Prewitt was Molly's family.

Vaughn thanked him, "Thank you, Uncle, but please let me handle this myself."

Having said that, he threw down his wand, stepped down from the podium, and walked over to Selwen and his cronies, who were lying on the ground unable to get up after being hit by a disarming charm and appeared to be all bark and no bite.

Looking down at them: "There are always some ignorant fools who like to make inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times!"

Seeing the coldness in his eyes, the group felt both anger and a vague sense of fear.

People around were also whispering among themselves.

"Such a powerful armor spell, it's like Selwin is just tickling him."

"Still casting a spell silently..."

"Damn it, didn't you guys sense his magic?"

Purebloods believe in strength, and perhaps Vaughn should thank Mr. Selwyn. He successfully used himself as a negative example to remind the purebloods that Vaughn, who was still a child, was far more powerful than they imagined!

At this point, they finally became more serious and listened attentively to this unique "honor ceremony speech".

Vaughn glanced around at the people around him. "Mr. Selwin just seemed to think that the werewolves' predicament was due to their laziness and clumsiness..."

Such condescending remarks seem to be common in every world.

You are poor because you are lazy, you are poor because you are stupid.

Of course, it's not because they truly believe that intelligence and diligence can solve all difficulties; that's just an excuse to maintain a noble persona—I am noble because I am intelligent and diligent, and because I am intelligent and diligent, my nobility is perfectly reasonable!

He scoffed inwardly, then turned and shouted outside, "Little Barnal, tell me, is it because you're lazy and stupid?"

A young man stepped out from the pack of wolves and answered loudly, "Of course not, sir."

"Why is that?"

Looking at the magnificent hall before him, and then at his own tattered clothes, young Barnal shed tears: "It's because we've exiled ourselves to the wilderness..."

Why do you exile yourselves?

"Because we're afraid of hurting others... afraid of waking up every full moon to see innocent lives destroyed by our own hands!"

Little Barnal's voice choked with emotion. He cried because of the pain of survival, and also because their kindness was unknown to others, and had just been trampled on!

Feeling wronged and resentful, he couldn't stop his tears from flowing.

The werewolves behind him also began to sob.

Separated by a door, the well-dressed people in the auditorium looked at each other in silence. They watched the werewolves standing in the wind and snow, and then watched Vaughn turn around and meet their eyes one by one.

The atmosphere is heavy and depressing.

While some people remain rigid in their thinking, many more have actually begun to change their attitudes.

Werewolf stories are extremely popular in the magical world, but in reality, they rarely actually see werewolves. What they hear more often is about Greyback and his army of werewolves wreaking havoc everywhere. As for another self-exiled and self-wandering group, at least most people did not know about them until today.

Looking at the silent crowd before him, Vaughn did not expect that a demonstration or a speech would change people's deep-rooted beliefs.

Those weren't the things he was pursuing.

For him, it would be enough if he could change the attitudes of some people today and spread the word about what happened today.

He spread the word both for the sake of public opinion among werewolves and for his own sake.

The change in attitude of some people present was related to what he wanted to do!

Amidst the sobs of the werewolves outside the door, he returned to the podium: "Ladies and gentlemen, I have invented a wolfsbane potion that suppresses the werewolf virus. Theoretically, we can begin to address the werewolf problem. But regrettably, another poison within people's hearts is far more terrifying than werewolfism—it's called prejudice!"

"The Ministry of Magic has delegated werewolf matters to the Beast Office, but gentlemen, they are not beasts. They have intelligence, emotions, joys and sorrows; I would even say they are noble human beings!"

"The Ministry of Magic is undeniably biased in its treatment of werewolves, and for many days and nights I've wondered whether, under such prejudice, the wolfsbane potion can truly solve the problem?"

"I don't know the answer. I can only try to take the first step. I mailed the formula to the Society of Extraordinary Apothecaries and the Ministry of Magic, and to the esteemed Minister Cornelius Fudge. I wanted to know what their opinion was on this matter."

As he spoke, Vaughn looked up at the second floor, where Dumbledore, dressed in a purple robe, had somehow taken a seat and gestured to Vaughn.

He stood up, and amidst the astonished gazes of the crowd, pointed his wand diagonally downwards.

Wisps of smoke billowed from the tip of the staff, as thick as paint falling into water, falling and spreading along the ground, quickly condensing into two simple human silhouettes.

The moment people saw the two human figures, they recognized them: the short one was Vaughn Weasley, and the short, stout one was Cornelius Fudge!

Fudge's face turned deathly pale.

He seemed to want to rush forward and say something, but hesitated under the indifferent gazes of Vaughn and Dumbledore.

Soon, the memory magic reenacted the conversation between Fudge and Vaughn at the Three Broomsticks.

The overall effect is far inferior to that of the Pensieve, but it is sufficient for this occasion.

"...Child, I need you to grant me one small request: use your status as the inventor of the wolfsbane potion to urge werewolves to abide by the 'Werewolf Registration Law'..."

Upon hearing about the werewolf registration method, the members of the Wizengamot on the second floor whispered among themselves, while the people on the first floor were somewhat bewildered.

Vaughn bowed to Dumbledore to thank him for his help, then waved away the cloud of smoke: "It seems some friends are not familiar with the contents of the 'Werewolf Registration Act,' which was enacted around the 17th century. In my opinion, it should be called 'A Regulation of Dangerous Beasts.'"

"As a magic law, the designers endowed it with a binding oath magic from the very beginning. As long as the werewolf leaves detailed personal information, hair and blood as required by the registration law, it is automatically considered to have agreed to the oath."

"Those who sign the oath cannot violate any provision of the law, such as where they can live, what time of day their activities are restricted, what measures they must take during the full moon..."

Vaughn shrugged: "This so-called bill isn't about registration at all; it's about putting chains on the beasts they see!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, I invented the wolfsbane potion in the hope of bringing some help to the kind people outside, not to push them into the fire... Over the past few centuries, the 'werewolf registration law' has proven to be ineffective; no one will willingly lock their freedom and life and death to a single law."

"Or rather, if werewolves were willing to lock their freedom and even their lives to the law, what would they become?"

The answer is obvious.

Those kind werewolves outside will turn into beasts, beasts belonging to the law enforcers!

Putting aside other aspects, the people present were still very politically sensitive. Not to mention the first-class purebloods who came for this reason on the first floor, the Wizengamo on the second floor were already furious.

One of the short, thin old women, with a fiery temper, took off her shoe and threw it at Fudge's head: "You damned fatso, what do you think you're doing?"

"Mrs. March Bennet, please calm down."

"Let me go, Albus! Let me beat this bastard to death! If I'd known he'd be so greedy, I shouldn't have let him graduate in the first place!"

The over 100-year-old Dumbledore carefully held back the Machiban grandmother, who was even older than him. Amelia Burns also stood up and stopped the old man and woman who were trembling as they got up and started cursing at Fudge.

Fudge awkwardly covered his head, while his loyal Mistress Umbridge, displaying her professional sycophantic skills, firmly blocked the minister with her obese body.

This made her a primary target for attacks from upstairs. Before long, she was covered in shoes and wigs, and her small, fluffy, curly hair was adorned with a set of dentures that someone had thrown down.

The reporters were excited, snapping photos to record this amazing scene.

They've already come up with a title—

Wizengamo brutally beats up the Minister of Magic!

A group of centenarian wizards ganged up on a 50-year-old man!

The chaotic scene lasted for quite a while before calm was restored thanks to the efforts of Dumbledore and Amelia Burns.

After coaxing a group of elderly wizards, each with one foot in the grave, back to their seats, Amelia rose and said in a loud voice, "Mr. Vaughn Weasley, your speech today was very...special..."

She glanced back out the window at the street where the werewolves were still waiting quietly in the cold wind, and said, "Thank you for making Wisengamor aware that not all werewolves are Greyback. So, what is your intention?"

Looking up at her, Vaughn calmly replied, "As I just stated, I hope to provide these wandering werewolves with some help—help free from prejudice and discrimination, help that doesn't shackle their necks. Therefore, I implore you and Mr. Dumbledore to convene a general meeting of Wizengamor to discuss the establishment of a Werewolf Affairs Committee!"

These words immediately sparked another round of discussion in the hall.

With the preceding groundwork laid, everyone now understands the nature of his so-called "Werewolf Affairs Committee."

Vaughn ignored their discussion and continued, "The werewolf problem is a problem for the entire magical world and should be a shared responsibility of the magical world. However, given the backwardness of the Ministry of Magic's system and the great risks involved, it is clear that it cannot assume such a responsibility. Therefore, I propose that the 'Werewolf Affairs Committee' be independent of the Ministry of Magic, and that Wizengamo reclaim all the Ministry of Magic's authority over the management and disposal of werewolves."

Even Fudge, who had been feigning death, couldn't hold back any longer. He struggled to his feet and roared, "Vorn Weasley, you...you're splitting the Ministry of Magic!"

If looks could hurt, Vaughn would have been riddled with holes long ago.

Fudge never imagined that one day he would be defeated by a child.

However, Fudge's roar didn't garner even a glance from Vaughn, who continued calmly, "Considering the widespread discrimination in the wizarding world, the composition of the Werewolf Affairs Committee must be half werewolf seats, and for the remaining half, I propose that representatives be jointly appointed by Wizengamo and the International Wizarding Federation..."

International Federation of Wizards!

Everyone, including Fudge, looked up at the second floor and at Dumbledore.

In a daze, people seemed to see this legendary white wizard, who supposedly disliked power, extending his demonic claws...

(End of this chapter)