Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 88 Make a choice, Dumbledore!

Dumbledore was a very intelligent person, and this intelligence was not limited to his mind and knowledge, but also included his experience and insight.

When Dumbledore probed, Vaughn knew that Dumbledore had guessed something based on his rapidly progressing partnership with Crouch.

In fact, given enough information and a rich and bold imagination, it's not too difficult to guess why Crouch was willing to help Vaughn.

For someone whose family has broken down, who is so heartbroken that he is willing to give up even his political future, what could possibly make him cheer up again?

Of course, it's his family!

Vaughn didn't intend to hide anything. He was trying to win over Crouch to take advantage of Crouch's reputation and connections, so there was no need to be hesitant.

Even Crouch himself didn't care—he only wanted to fulfill his and his wife's wishes and win back their son; he could ignore everything else!

Dumbledore understood Vaughn's subtext.

He paused for a moment, then carefully said, "Have you considered that those who fall because of dark magic aren't entirely corrupted by it? In a sense, we can also consider that power itself is neither right nor wrong. Like a Muggle's gun, it won't just magically appear in your hand and force you to use it... Magic, like firearms, is merely a tool, devoid of thought!"

"Every fallen wizard, obsessed with dark magic, started out with a sinful heart. Dark magic was merely a tool for them to commit evil. Just because the tool in turn affected its master doesn't mean all the blame is placed on it... Do you think there's any need to rehabilitate or save such a person?"

Vaughn smiled: "You shouldn't say things like that to me. I'm just... a doctor, you could say? I make fair deals with patients' families; they help me, and I help them. As for whether the patient is guilty or not, that's a matter for law enforcement and the family, not for me, a doctor!"

Old Deng sighed and remained silent.

He knew that his plan to influence Vaughn with morality had failed again, which was also what made him feel most powerless towards Vaughn. He was only 12 years old, but Vaughn's worldview was shockingly mature.

He has his own logic and way of doing things, and it is usually very reasonable—even if it is fallacious, it is quite convincing.

And the more important problem is that Dumbledore discovered it too late!

It was only this afternoon, when Dumbledore learned that Crouch had sent more than 20 letters in support of Vaughn, that he realized Crouch's support for Vaughn far exceeded the normal range.

So, before coming to the Ministry of Magic, he visited the Crouch family cemetery in Godric's Hollow, where Mrs. Crouch and Barty Crouch Jr. are buried together.

However, his magic only detected one corpse in the two tombs...

If he were acting entirely on his conscience, Dumbledore knew he should immediately notify the Ministry of Magic and have Barty Crouch arrested.

Now, this is where his dilemma lies—if Crouch is captured, the establishment of the Werewolf Affairs Committee could face unexpected obstacles.

No... it's not just very likely, it's certain!

Now everyone knows that Crouch is also a supporter of Vaughn, and he even wrote more than 20 letters this afternoon.

As his rival, Fudge clearly understood this even better!

If Crouch were to run into trouble at this point, not only would the Wizengamots who voted in favor be caught off guard and lose morale, but Fudge would also seize the opportunity to use this as an excuse to obstruct or delay the decision to establish the Werewolf Affairs Committee!

Barty Crouch Jr. is undoubtedly a cruel and incorrigible Death Eater.

But if we sacrifice the future of over a thousand other wandering werewolves because of him...

Dumbledore is in a lot of pain right now. If he knew more about Muggles, he would know that his current troubles are somewhat similar to a classic Muggle thought experiment—the trolley problem.

He is now like the poor driver in the trolley problem, caught in a moral dilemma: should he sacrifice thousands of innocent people to punish one villain, or let the villain go for the sake of thousands of innocent people?

"call--"

Dumbledore sighed, his gaze towards Vaughn weary. "Vaughn, you did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"I just realized it myself. The way you had Crouch suddenly contact his old friend on the last day was deliberately designed to draw everyone's attention to your unusually cooperative relationship at this crucial moment… especially me. You know, I'll definitely find out why Crouch was cooperating with you like this!"

"The reason for this is that you're planning to make Crouch your spokesperson. He'll be in more and more contact with me and Amelia, and sooner or later we'll realize something's wrong between you. Since that's the case, there's no point in hiding it. And you never waste time on meaningless things..."

As he spoke, he gave a wry smile: "Sometimes, I really want to pry open your head and see what's inside."

Vaughn neither admitted nor refuted this.

He simply smiled and replied, "I can guarantee my academic performance. My brain isn't filled with barbo tuber pus or slug mucus, so you can rest assured."

"Ha...a classic pharmacist analogy!"

"Thank you, I learned it from the professor, and I found it very interesting."

Vaughn's smile grew even wider.

He was naturally pleased; the fact that Dumbledore would speak to him so harmoniously was enough to demonstrate the choice Dumbledore had made.

Clearly, between the future of thousands and the sin of one man, Dumbledore unsurprisingly sided with the majority.

This is the choice that most people facing a moral dilemma are most likely to make.

Seeing the undisguised pleasure on Vaughn's face, Dumbledore was a little annoyed and deliberately asked, "Actually, there's a question I've wanted to ask you for a long time: Crouch's secret, Horcruxes... where did you get this information from?"

Vaughn showed little interest in his deliberate probing: "What do you think?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then uttered a startling statement: "I suspect you have prophetic blood!"

"Oh... if you say so, then so be it!" Vaughn replied perfunctorily, his expression not too pleasant.

Dumbledore ignored him and asked with a smile, "Then, dear prophet, can you tell me what my future holds?"

"You will die!"

Vaughn retorted with an equally startling statement, sneering, "His death was horrific. He fell from Hogwarts Observatory, his whole body smashed into a pulp, and after he died, his grave was dug up. You can't imagine how gruesome it was!"

Dumbledore: "Oh—now I'm sure it's true that Aurora (the astronomy professor) said you lack spirituality in divination!"

Amelia, who had just walked in and overheard the conversation, was speechless.

Amelia looked at Vaughn's wicked smile and then at Dumbledore's grinning face, and suddenly realized that these two guys who were hurting each other were, in some ways, really alike!

For example, they're all a bit childish...

At night, Whitehall Street, located on the ground floor, is brightly lit and resplendent.

The Ministry of Magic underground was equally bustling, with people coming and going. The usually quiet Wizengamot Grand Council Hall on the second basement level was lively again today.

Unlike last time when the room was filled with purple-red robes, this time, in the huge tiered hall, only a dozen or so Wizengamo members were sparsely seated on the side of the main stage.

On the other sides, there were Ministry of Magic officials, reporters, and wizards who had nothing better to do than come and join the fun after seeing the announcement in the afternoon.

The whole scene was therefore very noisy.

As Vaughn and Dumbledore followed Amelia into the Great Hall, they were greeted by the flashes of cameras in the front row.

The smoke rising from the burning magnesium strip carried a faint scent of magic potions.

Then, a short, stout man with a receding hairline, surrounded by a crowd, strode over and gave him a big hug:

"Son, it's been so long, Dad missed you so much... Ladies and gentlemen, this is my son, Vaughn Weasley. Look at him, what a handsome young man! He's as tall as me now!"

Of course, only Arthur would speak to Vaughn like that.

Vaughn remained silent. In fact, he had met with his father just two weeks ago, since he had been staying at the Ministry of Magic during that time.

Arthur led his son and proudly showed him off to his colleagues, especially Amos—Cedric's father.

"Amos, from this day forward, my son's name will be known throughout the entire magical world; he will become a great man..."

Arthur laboriously put his arm around Vaughn's shoulder and boasted to the sullen-faced Amos Diggory. Amos finally couldn't take it anymore and shook him off.

Arthur chuckled twice before whispering to Vaughn, "Keep your distance from the Diggory family. You have no idea how petty Amos is. Son, he actually spoke up for Fudge just to belittle you in front of me... what a bastard!"

"Actually, Ced is a pretty good person," Vaughn replied fairly.

"Oh...yes, yes, Ced is a good kid, he's just unlucky to have such an unreliable father..."

As the two were talking, Amelia, who was already prepared on the podium, pressed her wand against her throat:

"quiet!"

The loud voice, amplified by the spell, drowned out all the noise.

Amelia's serious gaze swept around the room: "The vote on the Wizengamo resolution is about to begin. Please take your seats and refrain from making any noise!"

Vaughn quickly separated from his father and returned to his seat in Wizengamo.

Arthur and other Ministry of Magic officials, as was their custom, sat opposite Wizengamo, flanked by wizards, civilians, and reporters.

As the spotlight and smoke reappeared, Amelia, who had taken control of the scene, announced:

"This vote by all members of the Werewolf faction aims to decide whether or not to establish a Werewolf Affairs Committee!"

As she spoke, she turned to look behind her: "Fellow members of Wizengamo, do you have any objections to the topic of this vote?"

No one spoke.

Amelia looked again at the seats of the Ministry of Magic officials, the wizarding public, and the press, asking questions in turn. This was a tradition that Wizengamo inherited from the ancient Muggle kingdom, with the four groups of people being questioned respectively, corresponding to the parliament, the governing body, the public, and the scholars.

Although it has been passed down to this day, it is only a formality.

Naturally, no one raised any objections.

Amelia finished the procedure and, without delay, immediately waved her wand.

Envelopes folded into bird shapes flew down from the top of the conference hall, and Amelia tapped her wand lightly on the open space in front of the podium.

The once empty granite ground suddenly slid open, revealing a pit from which a burst of raging flames erupted, but those around felt no heat at all, as if it were burning in another world.

"In the 16th century, when the first modern law was promulgated, the entire magical world cast a spell on this celestial flame. As it has for centuries, it will witness Wizengamo fulfilling the sacred duty entrusted to it by magical law. Here we count the votes, and each vote is based on the voter's own will, without persecution or fraud..."

As everyone watched in silence, Amelia recited words that sounded like a vow.

Then, she picked up an envelope folded into the shape of a bird and threw it into the fire—

boom--

After the so-called immortal fire devoured the envelope, it rapidly expanded, emitting a huge sound. A ball of red fire shot out from it, flew into the air, and exploded into a dazzling display of colors!

Then the brilliance "froze" in the air.

Amelia, who had been watching intently with her head held high, announced loudly, "One vote in favor!"

Behind her, Vaughn watched the wisp of "fairy fire" with great interest and whispered to Dumbledore, "Is that ancient magic?"

Old Deng nodded: "Yes, it's a very ancient magic, completely different from the modern spell system. Actually, I think it's more like alchemy."

"What's the name of this spell?"

"Let's call it 'Celestial Flame.' This type of celestial flame usually doesn't have much destructive power, but it possesses some special functions. For example, the Ancient Blaze Celestial Flame never goes out, while this 'Celestial Flame' is fueled by honesty and oaths!"

"interesting……"

As the two spoke quietly, Amelia continued counting her votes, with red fireballs shooting out from the celestial flames.

A dazzling array of colors shimmered continuously in the grand conference hall.

It wasn't until after more than ten letters were sent that, when a new envelope was put in, everyone saw that this time the fireball was green.

The ghastly green color, almost like poison, made Amelia pause. She examined it more closely before withdrawing her stern gaze.

"A vote against!"

Fortunately, after throwing all the votes into the fire one by one, the proportion of green "no" votes was not high, and the 50-plus envelopes were processed almost without any delay.

When Amelia read out the outcome of the last letter, the crowd involuntarily stirred.

Especially the journalists, who came to witness the ceremony in order to get firsthand news, and now, the news is beckoning them.

"quiet!"

Amelia rebuked them sternly, tapping the podium lightly with her wand; under the influence of magic, even such a slight sound was like thunder.

As the crowd gradually calmed down, she looked up at the fireworks that had exploded and remained frozen in mid-air.

"Under the witness of sacred magical laws and celestial fire, the following vote was cast by all members of Wizengamo regarding the establishment of the Werewolf Affairs Committee:"

"36 votes in favor, 18 votes against —"

"I hereby declare that, from this day forward, the Werewolf Affairs Committee will be established as a new institution in England!"

It's another morning.

When Lupin woke up in the cellar, the eastern sky was just beginning to lighten.

He tore off his tattered clothes and, by the light streaming in through the vent, saw the dark, low-ceilinged cellar, simply dug out without any decoration, with long wolf fur scattered everywhere.

On the damp mud walls all around, there were a few weak scratch marks, which were left recently.

In the corner of the cellar, there were two pairs of wrought iron shackles, but they seemed to have been unused for some time and were already rusted.

Lu Ping leaned against the wall, his weak body barely able to stand up straight, his face pale.

This is a side effect of the full moon transformation. The transformation process is extremely painful and requires a lot of energy.

"Whoosh—whoosh—"

Lu Ping gasped for breath for a while before finally managing to squeeze out a little strength.

He forced himself to endure the weakness and emptiness in his body, staggered out of the cellar, went to the kitchen, found the food he had prepared in advance, and with cold water, painstakingly tore and chewed it with his sore teeth.

Transformation consumes not only physical strength but also magical power; he can't even perform the simplest magic trick now.

After struggling but quickly eating two sandwiches, Lupin finally felt that the terrible emptiness inside his body had eased a little.

He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a sense of relief at surviving a disaster.

He has lived like this for nearly thirty years since he was scratched by Graybuck when he was very young, but he still can't get used to it and doesn't want to.

Thinking about it, he gave a helpless, self-deprecating laugh: "At least it's much better now than before. Before, I was always terrified every time I transformed, afraid that my prepared restraints would fail, afraid that I would break out and hurt someone. Now, at least I can get through every full moon night soberly..."

Thinking of the excruciating pain he experienced during his transformation last night, Lupin's face, which had finally regained some color, turned deathly pale again.

In the past, when I transformed, I lost my mind and had almost no ability to feel pain.

But now, with the help of the wolfsbane potion to stay conscious, each transformation requires him to personally experience the excruciating pain of his entire skeleton and muscles being crushed and rebuilt.

This was a problem that Vaughn hadn't anticipated.

Lupin raised this issue with Vaughn more than a month ago, and Vaughn replied that it would be resolved in the next version.

Thinking of Vaughn, Lupin calculated the time; the Wizengamo vote should be over by now!

He looked out the window, but it was probably too early, so he didn't see the newspaper owl.

Whether the Werewolf Affairs Committee can be established is a matter of concern for every werewolf, including him.

But like everyone else, he couldn't do anything but subscribe to the Daily Prophet, hoping to see progress in the newspaper.

He learned about the upcoming vote in Wissengamo from the newspaper last night; Vaughn hadn't contacted them for some time.

With a mix of trepidation, anticipation, and anxiety, Lu Ping pondered for a long time until the sun shone through the window and he felt much stronger before finally stepping outside.

He now lives in Newham, a slum in the London metropolitan area, which is one of the most notorious slums around London, home to a large number of bankrupts, dockworkers and factory workers.

In England after the economic transformation of the 90s, workers were once again relegated to the bottom of society.

Earning the meager salary, living in the worst and most chaotic place.

Wearing a patched overcoat, Lu Ping looked quite down on his luck, yet he didn't seem out of place at all walking here.

Passing by countless Muggles as down on their luck as he was, Lupin arrived at the edge of Newham, in a remote and sparsely populated warehouse.

This place had long been rented by the werewolves as a shelter for women and children on the night of the full moon.

Adult men and young women have all found jobs in the past two months and are living outside like Lupin.

The warehouse was surrounded by a spell cast by Lupin and several wizards and werewolves to ensure that no Muggles would dare to trespass or approach.

When Lupin arrived, more than 200 pale-faced women and children, having just recovered with the help of other werewolves who had arrived earlier, were moving around outside the warehouse.

"Remus, how were you yesterday?"

Hearing someone call his name, Lupin looked up and saw it was Barnal the Younger.

He was helping the ladies prepare breakfast. Although he was weak after the ordeal of yesterday's full moon, he seemed to be in good spirits.

"Thankfully, Barnal, everything's going smoothly here too?"

Barnald shrugged: "Some of the younger children couldn't bear the pain and made a fuss, alerting the gatekeeper. Fortunately, the spell you cast worked, and his mind was confused."

Following the direction Barnald pointed, Lupin saw in the distance the doorman's office, where a middle-aged man was squatting by the door, looking dazed.

Lu Ping frowned slightly, feeling somewhat anxious.

The inconveniences of werewolves living in Muggle society became increasingly apparent over time, especially in order to take care of women and children who were temporarily unable to work, forcing werewolves to choose to live in groups within Muggle society.

In Lupin's view, this was a very dangerous thing—not that the werewolves were dangerous, but that their activities could expose the magical world.

The International Law on Secrecy has long been ingrained in the very bones of wizards!

Lupin had previously raised this issue with Vaughn, but Vaughn didn't seem to care. At least two months had passed, and Vaughn hadn't given the werewolves any new arrangements, only telling Lupin that everything would be discussed after the werewolf affairs committee was established.

Lupin also knew that Vaughn had already helped the werewolves enough; so far, the wolfsbane potion consumed by the hundreds of werewolves during the two full moons was sponsored by Vaughn and Dumbledore.

Everyone was able to return to Muggle community life thanks to the tens of thousands of pounds that Vaughn had provided.

Logically, he shouldn't be too demanding, but the truth is, Lupin doesn't know who else besides Vaughn can help the werewolves.

Compared to his anxiety, Barnal the Younger didn't seem to feel anything; after all, he wasn't a wizard and had no reverence for the Secret Code.

In young Barnal's view, things were slowly getting better. Although he grew up in the wilderness, he didn't like that savage life at all.

He longs to return to human society, loves cities, and enjoys television. Apart from his wolf-like condition, which makes him crave raw meat, he is no different from any other ordinary teenage Muggle.

Two weeks ago, Barnal found a job as a waiter at a dockside bar, where he received his first weekly wage of only 90 pounds.

He used the money to buy a fountain pen, and the rest he used to buy candy for the children.

He called out to Lu Ping, hoping the other would do him a favor—

After exchanging a few pleasantries, and disregarding Lupin's absent-mindedness, young Barnal pulled Lupin to a quiet corner, awkwardly took out the pen, and stammered, "Remus, could you... could you help me give this to the gentleman?"

Lupin paused, then said, "You..."

He had barely finished speaking when James Brown rushed over excitedly, waving a newspaper: "Remus, Barnal, the gentleman succeeded! He succeeded!"

(End of this chapter)