Chapter 151: The Notebook And An 111-year-old Dumbledore
As thick fog spread over London and squads sent by Greyback were apprehended one by one, the anomalies in the city also caught the attention of others.
Wiltshire, the moon cast its bright light into the bushes, and on this quiet, breezy grassland, it cast large, strangely shaped, eerie, and sinister shadows.
Branches swayed, grass tops bowed, the wrought-iron gates at the manor entrance gently swung, and the words “Malfoy Manor” on top also swayed with them.
From afar, the wind passed through the crisscrossing hedges behind the wrought-iron gates, carrying a sound echoing under the night sky, an angry roar:
“…Those filthy scum, rats from the gutters, despicable opportunists…”
Deep within the manor, on the first floor of the castle, dim lamplight spilled from the open windows. Dobby squeezed out of thin air, a tray floating beside him, filled with snacks to accompany the drinks.
“…When I first took office, I should have swept all those traitors and scoundrels out of power!”
Hearing the cursing from the hall, Dobby flinched in fear, but the obedience to his master, rooted in his bones for a thousand years, allowed him to overcome his fear and gently knock on the door.
“Who?”
A voice asked.
“It’s Dobby, my master. Madam asked me to bring some snacks.”
“Come in!”
Receiving a response, Dobby quickly lowered his head and gently pushed the door open.
The hall was vast, with a high, deep dome, like a giant’s hall. The furnishings were simple. Apart from a few windows and tapestries serving as decoration, there was only a massive table, and a fireplace at the end of it.
Two people were standing by the fireplace.
One was tall and slender, with platinum blonde hair tied back and cascading down his back. His velvet robes shimmered with a soft texture even in the dark, paired with an exquisite and shiny cane, making him look elegant and dignified.
Dobby bowed deeply to the person. This was his master, and the patriarch of the Malfoy family, Lucius Malfoy.
“Put the things down!”
Lucius Malfoy said, the house-elf wearing a tattered rag looked pathetic, he didn’t even want to see the other party.
The snack tray floated slowly to the two of them as Dobby waved his hands. Lucius picked up a piece of fried pork rind, gesturing for the other person standing beside him to help himself: “Try some, Cornelius. Narcissa rarely cooks… What’s the situation in London now?”
“What situation could there be? A bunch of damned Aurors publicly defying my orders to help that damned red-haired brat. Guess their excuse? ‘See injustice and act bravely’!”
It was better not to mention it, but when he did, Fudge’s chin gained two more chins from anger.
He grabbed a fried egg from the plate and stuffed it into his mouth fiercely. The filling, oil, and yolk wrapped around the fried egg leaked out as he chewed.
Fudge gulped down a mouthful of sherry, and the golden oil and yolk instantly melted.
The color and shape were truly indescribable.
Lucius suddenly felt a bit disgusted. Without a word, he spat out the fried pork rind he had chewed twice. He thought for a moment and slowly said, “Weasley is apprehending Greyback’s filthy beasts. The Wizengamot approved his actions. From a procedural standpoint, it seems there’s no error.”
“Do you really think so?” Fudge widened his eyes. “If the WAC can act independently of the Ministry, then what do we need the Ministry for? Today they can arrest werewolves with Wizengamot authorization, and tomorrow will they raid dark wizards?”
To his questioning, Lucius remained calm, even a bit disdainful.
He had already inquired.
Those beasts under Greyback were found by the esteemed Mr. Fudge himself. The reason, even if unspoken, was clear: dear Mr. Fudge wanted to sabotage the WAC conference.
He hadn’t expected the situation to develop unexpectedly, and the seemingly isolated Vaughn Weasley suddenly received the help of many wizarding families.
Thinking of this, Lucius’s expression also became slightly serious.
Although Fudge was an idiot, the trend shown by this incident made Lucius have to take it seriously. He asked, “Which families participated in this operation?”
“The Travers branch. These fence-sitters, I don’t know what they’re thinking, they’re not even hiding it. That old man Alred has long since clearly stated his support for Vaughn Weasley.”
Fudge said indignantly, “According to my informants, besides the Travers, there should be 2 or 3 other families involved, but they haven’t appeared publicly… However, there are only a few active pure-blood families in the wizarding world who haven’t been included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It’s likely them.”
“Do you have proof?”
Fudge was speechless. If he had proof, he wouldn’t be at Malfoy Manor today.
Lucius also knew the reason behind it, so he asked, “What do you plan to do next?”
“I need support, Lucius!”
Fudge said seriously, “Look, Weasley and his little gang, and that insidious Dumbledore, they are increasingly openly provoking the order of the wizarding world, provoking the International Statute of Secrecy, and even provoking the status of pure-blood families.”
“Why do you think those wizarding families are willing to support Weasley and Dumbledore? Because they see the possibility of overthrowing the current ruling class, they see hope of rising to power.”
“Just like decades ago, when those despicable and shameless guys tried to support Grindelwald—”
Fudge’s words became more and more exaggerated.
But Lucius offered no rebuttal, because he knew very well that such a possibility did exist, and it was highly likely to become reality.
This was also the main reason why pure-blood families had been funding some “mouthpieces” for the past period, opposing the WAC in newspapers and public opinion, and criticizing the WAC fiercely.
He listened noncommittally, and after Fudge finished his accusations, he asked, “What kind of support do you need?”
“All possible directions of support, manpower, finances, personnel, etc. I need pure-blood families to use their greatest political strength to help me.”
You’re dreaming!
Looking at the fellow with the wine glass and the bulging belly in front of him, Lucius wanted to open that thick skull and see what was inside.
He chuckled, restrained, and said firmly, “Don’t joke, Cornelius. You know this is impossible.”
“Short-sighted!”
As if angered by his refusal, Fudge retorted, “The power in my hands is slipping away, Lucius, do you understand? Yes, Greyback was my doing, you all know this information, right? But why don’t you think about how Vaughn Weasley’s people accurately found those beasts?”
“Not only are the Aurors out of control, but even the ‘Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes’ has been infiltrated by those scoundrels, they’ve mastered the magical incident monitoring system!”
“Also, I have some unfortunate news for you. Arthur Weasley, yes, the father of that damned Vaughn Weasley, using his position as Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, has colluded with his superior in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to prepare a thorough investigation of illegally collected Muggle and magical items in the wizarding world…”
Fudge sneered, looking around the majestic hall of Malfoy Castle, “Once the bill passes, do you think your home won’t be targeted by them?”
…
Boom—
The huge table was sent flying by magic, crashing heavily against the wall and shattering.
Dobby cowered fearfully in the corner.
He rarely saw his master lose his temper like this. His master usually maintained the composure and dignity of his pure-blood, Sacred Twenty-Eight status, meticulous, calm, and elegant.
But after that stout wizard said something and left not long ago, his master suddenly lost his composure.
Dobby tried to curl up as small as possible, not wanting to be too conspicuous.
An angry master needed to vent his rage, and simply smashing tables and chairs wouldn’t suffice. He, the living Dobby, would inevitably become a tool for venting.
Although his master rarely got angry, the few times he did were enough to leave a deep impression.
Unfortunately, despite trying his best to minimize his presence, Dobby was discovered by Lucius after a short while.
He drew his wand from his cane, and the lightning bursting from the tip fiercely lashed at Dobby.
Dobby cried out loudly, desperately banging his head on the floor. The slave contract, almost imprinted on his soul, twisted his mind. He instinctively believed that being beaten was his own fault.
“Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Bad house-elf for making master angry!”
He self-mutilated with force. The house-elf had no concept of begging for mercy.
Blood seeped from his forehead, but more injuries were on his body. Lucius clenched his jaw and whipped him a few more times.
Not until Narcissa, hearing the commotion, rushed in.
This beautiful witch, from the Black family, frowned and took her husband’s wand. She then said gently to Dobby, “Go now, Dobby. It’s not your fault. Go to the infirmary and find some healing potions.”
“Yes, my esteemed Mistress.”
Dobby was overwhelmed with gratitude.
He limped out of the hall, and from a distance, he heard his gentle mistress questioning his master, “What are you doing, Lucius?”
“Sorry, Narcissa… One thing after another is just terrible… Fudge wants to enlist us against Vaughn Weasley and Dumbledore, it’s awful, we’re caught in the middle… Arthur’s bill attempts to weaken us, and Fudge is also threatening me. If we don’t take a side, he’ll definitely let Arthur’s bill go through…”
The voices faded into the distance, becoming inaudible.
Dobby dared not delay. The pain on his body reminded him to be a good house-elf. He sobbed and went to the infirmary on the second floor, found some comfrey for himself, and prepared to process it slightly in the kitchen to make a potion.
Then, as he walked out of the infirmary, he encountered the young master, Draco Malfoy.
He was hiding at the turn of the stairs, eavesdropping on his parents’ conversation below.
The two bumped into each other, their eyes meeting. Then Dobby instinctively knelt down, intending to bang his head on the floor again: “Bad Dobby, actually seeing the young master eavesdropping…”
“Shh—”
Draco quickly ran over, covered Dobby’s mouth, and whispered threateningly, “Don’t make a sound, or I’ll… Wait, did Dad hit you?”
He noticed the scorched marks on Dobby’s body and also the comfrey.
Draco suddenly didn’t know what to say.
The person and the house-elf sat blankly at the turn of the stairs. Below, the voices from the hall were intermittent:
“He is the Minister for Magic, if he wants to isolate us…”
“…Do we have no choice but to pick a side? Lucius, Vaughn Weasley is only 12 years old, and Fudge?”
“But the WAC… the Statute of Secrecy…”
Through his parents’ intermittent conversation, Draco gradually understood why his father had angrily hit Dobby and why they were arguing.
But the content was beyond his understanding. He didn’t understand why his father was afraid or anxious, only that it seemed to be because of a collection of magical items stored in their home.
Especially one of them.
“You’re right, Narcissa, siding with Fudge isn’t a wise choice… It seems I have to send it away…”
“Where to? Don’t forget, that was, that was given to you by him, he told you to collect it carefully…”
“Damn it! Damn it… No, maybe he’s already dead! Yes, he was killed by Harry Potter… No news for 11 years…”
Draco “coerced” Dobby into eavesdropping on the faint, intermittent conversation, but his parents’ voices grew lower and lower. He only knew they were discussing sending something away.
Until at one point, Draco heard his father’s voice suddenly become excited:
“Right, I can send it to Harry Potter!”
What? Send it to Scarhead?
Draco was stunned. He strained to look, and saw through the flickering candlelight in the hall that his mother and father argued in low voices for a moment, then his father seemed to convince them. They then waved their wands, and an object flew from upstairs into their midst.
Draco saw that it was a notebook!
As a young wizard, he naturally didn’t know what it was. But next to him, Dobby, who was stretching his neck just like him, widened his eyes.
In his field of vision, he saw dark mist rise from the notebook.
A powerful, evil shadow flickered in the black mist.
“Heavens…”
…
London, in front of the WAC headquarters, Vaughn, dressed in a vibrant crimson robe, looked at the foggy night sky.
Amelia Bones stood beside him.
“Powerful magic, exquisite Mist Charm.”
“Thank you for the compliment!”
Judging by the time, Amelia said, “The apprehension teams should be done by now. What do you think Fudge will do in response to this failure?”
Vaughn shrugged, “He doesn’t have many options. And this incident will remind him that he’s not enough on his own to resist us, so he’ll definitely try to unite with pure-blood families by any means necessary.”
“So you had Arthur propose the bill to try and weaken the pure-blood families?”
To be honest, Amelia couldn’t quite understand Vaughn’s actions.
In her opinion, although the WAC’s stance was opposed to the interests of pure-blood families, the two were not irreconcilable.
Mature politics should not proactively push potential opponents towards enemies, but rather keep opposing factions fragmented and defeat them one by one!
In her view, Vaughn arranging for Arthur to propose an investigation into Muggle and magical items would only force the pure-blood families to unite with Fudge.
Vaughn certainly understood her thoughts.
In fact, even though Amelia supported Arthur’s proposal at the Ministry due to her position and basic principles, she had expressed her dissent privately more than once.
Vaughn hadn’t responded before, but now he could say it. He smiled slightly, “This is where we differ. Sometimes I do something not just for political reasons.”
“Like this time, on the surface, I arranged for my father to propose the bill to stir up trouble and weaken the pure-blood families. In reality, I just wanted a certain family to panic and voluntarily hand over a certain item they had collected.”
Amelia was stunned, and also a bit curious, “What item?”
“A notebook!”
A notebook?
Amelia was a little puzzled. She didn’t think it was just a notebook; it was worth Vaughn targeting it so intensely. The so-called “notebook” must be in the possession of a pure-blood family that had not yet declined.
And pure-blood families… with their principle of not acting without profit, even if it were a diary, it would likely hold immense value.
Unfortunately, Vaughn only revealed this much and was unwilling to say more.
And indeed, he couldn’t say more.
The secret of the Horcruxes was currently known only to Vaughn and Dumbledore. For them, strictly concealing their existence was the choice that maximized their profits—
Dumbledore hoped to collect all the Horcruxes and destroy Voldemort at the opportune moment.
Vaughn, on the other hand, hoped to sell the information he possessed about the Horcruxes to Dumbledore for “profit.”
Of course, his ultimate goal was also to destroy Voldemort.
In fact, since arriving in this world, Vaughn had always regarded Voldemort as one of the biggest obstacles to his ultimate goal.
A person’s character is difficult to change.
Decades ago, when Tom Riddle, because he had Muggle blood flowing through him, went on a rampage and killed his entire father’s family, his cruel, chaotic, and unreasonable nature was already fixed.
In Vaughn’s opinion, anyone in the wizarding world had a certain possibility of becoming his companion, to walk with him on the path of magic.
Including those dark wizards, and even Fenrir Greyback.
Only Voldemort had no value for recruitment!
Because that Socket Man was inherently anti-order. “Pure-blood revival” and “expelling half-bloods and mudbloods” were just excuses he randomly came up with. He wanted to rule the wizarding world, not to bring a new order to the wizarding world like Gellert Grindelwald.
He just wanted to use slaughter and terror to place himself above everyone else, to become the master of all!
Looking at Voldemort’s actions after his “future” resurrection, he clearly never considered how to rebuild after destroying the order of the wizarding world. Apart from slaughter, he had no core ideology or guiding principles of his own.
Such a “future” was too terrible.
So from a long time ago, Vaughn had considered how to deal with Voldemort. As the Dark Lord’s only weakness, he naturally didn’t forget to pay attention to the Horcruxes.
It was just that for various reasons, Vaughn hadn’t acted to collect them before.
The reasons were complex.
Partly because some Horcruxes were not easy to obtain, and partly because Vaughn didn’t want to appear too out of the ordinary in this regard, attracting Dumbledore’s attention.
That old man…
“Hey, dear, I think I heard you talking about a notebook?”
An ancient voice suddenly came from behind.
They turned around. Behind them, the thick fog swirled apart to create a path. Dumbledore, in a magnificent robe, his long beard trailing, walked towards them.
His expression was tired, but he still wore a joyful smile.
Amelia bowed slightly, “Long time no see, Dumbledore.”
“Oh, sorry Amelia, I’ve been busy with some trivial matters recently, you’ve worked hard.” He apologized insincerely, then turned to Vaughn and asked with a smile, “Child, what notebook are you looking for?”
Vaughn didn’t know when he had arrived, but he wasn’t flustered. He rolled his eyes, “If you want to know, you’ll have to give me something in exchange!”
“…Is it what I think it is?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Can’t you reveal a little? The last thing you exchanged with me, I had to spend so many days finding it myself. Isn’t this kind of transaction a bit unfair?”
“Heh heh!”
Vaughn let out a mocking laugh.
The essence of intelligence trading is information asymmetry. Only a fool would talk about fairness!
He changed the subject and asked, “Did you find it?”
Knowing Vaughn didn’t want to say more, Dumbledore didn’t press further and nodded, “Yes, it’s hidden in the old manor.”
Before he finished speaking, he saw Vaughn glance at his hand.
On Old Dumbledore’s wrinkled face, which resembled a chrysanthemum, bloomed a meaningful and joyous smile. “Don’t worry, dear. Thanks to your reminder, I was able to restrain my inner greed and not be tempted by the thing inlaid on it… He actually placed such a vicious curse on the ancestral ring. Fortunately, you warned me!”
Hearing his subtext, Vaughn silently retorted, “What a shame, I was hoping you’d get cursed to death!”
“So cruel?”
“Cruel? I think it’s great, then no one will keep testing me all the time.”
The old and young bickered. Amelia, standing beside them, looked confused. She understood every word they said, but when put together, it was all a haze.
She rubbed her temples with a headache and had to interrupt them, “Gentlemen, until when are you planning to quarrel? Especially you, Dumbledore, do you want to wait until all the squads return and then publicly perform for everyone, showing how a distinguished old wizard of 111 years argues with a 12-year-old boy?”
Dumbledore stroked his beard with a smile, shamelessly, “This is fun, Amelia.”
“Tch!”
Vaughn glanced at him with disdain, but didn’t continue his sarcasm. He changed the subject and asked, “111 years old… have you passed your birthday?”
“Yes, I just passed a couple of days ago. （ Dumbledore was born in July 1881, no specific date, blurred here ）.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Alas, I’m over a hundred years old, I don’t want to celebrate birthdays anymore. Every birthday reminds me I’m a year older, which is very sad.”
“At least let me give you a birthday gift. The gift you gave me for my birthday, I liked it very much, and I was thinking of returning the favor!”
Dumbledore laughed heartily, “It’s alright, dear. That ring is the best gift.”
Amelia gave them a strange look.
She never understood the logic of interaction between Vaughn and Dumbledore. They might be undermining each other one moment, and the next they might be full of warmth, like two old friends supporting each other.
Perhaps this was the mutual appreciation of geniuses?
As she was thinking, there was movement in the sky.
Four flying broomsticks descended, dragging strong winds. The fog automatically parted around them, guiding them to the three of them.
It was Lupin, Mundungus, and two wizards wearing cloaks and hoods, their faces hidden.
Carrying a suitcase, Mundungus approached and, seeing Vaughn, was about to say something with a fawning smile when he saw Dumbledore standing beside Vaughn.
The short, stout thief immediately stammered, “Dum… Dumbledore?”
Old Dumbledore smiled and nodded at him, “It is I, little Mundungus. Have you also been recruited by Vaughn? I’m glad to see you again after 10 years.”
Mundungus was a little panicked.
Voldemort was defeated 11 years ago. He stayed for less than a year, and after all the Death Eaters were tried, he quickly slipped away from the Order of the Phoenix.
He didn’t even say goodbye to Old Dumbledore before leaving.
Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t dare!
As the personal night pot personally recruited by Old Dumbledore, Mundungus knew the value of the nickname “White Lord” better than anyone.
Fortunately, the other party had some sense of propriety. Perhaps seeing him sneak away quietly, knowing his fear and aspirations, and coupled with his intentional avoidance, he hadn’t been dealt with in these years.
But now, encountering him unexpectedly, fear was still present.
What if Old Dumbledore suddenly decided to kill him with a flick of his finger?
Mundungus felt that he was no stronger than an ant in front of Dumbledore. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his legs trembled.
To his relief, his thighs did not abandon him!
“Are the apprehended werewolves in the suitcase?” Vaughn asked, “Did you catch Fenrir Greyback?”
Seeing his “thigh” ask, Mundungus quickly approached Vaughn, barely controlling himself from looking at Dumbledore, who had a “sinister smile,” and replied fawningly, “Apologies, sir. Greyback doesn’t seem to have participated in this operation, but we did capture a few werewolves who had close contact with him. Perhaps we can find that beast’s whereabouts from their memories.”
Vaughn was a bit disappointed.
Greyback was the oldest living werewolf in England, known as the King of Werewolves. His body must contain very rich samples.
However, Vaughn also knew that with Greyback’s caution, which had allowed him to thrive for decades without falling, capturing him would not be an easy task.
Therefore, he waved his hand, “If you didn’t catch him, forget it… Remus, you and Mundungus take these werewolves to confinement. You can interrogate them about Greyback’s whereabouts, but be careful not to kill them. I’ll need them for experiments later.”
Lupin didn’t speak, and silently led Mundungus, who looked like he had been granted amnesty, into the WAC headquarters building.
For two months, this office building, transferred from the Wizengamot, had been completely remodeled to include various functions.
Of course, this included a detention area, mainly for errant werewolves and unregistered werewolves!
After Lupin and Mundungus left, the other two cloaked wizards approached, bowed to Dumbledore, Amelia, and Vaughn:
“We have fulfilled our promise. Do you three have any other instructions?”
Amelia and Dumbledore said nothing.
The stage belonged to Vaughn.
He smiled and thanked them, “Thank you for your hard work. Although it’s a pity we didn’t catch Greyback, it’s not your fault. However, this operation exposed your infiltration power in the ‘Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes’. Perhaps Fudge will target you later. Please tell the patriarchs to be cautious.”
A hooded wizard chuckled in a low voice:
“Thank you, but please rest assured, Fudge dares not act rashly. The Ministry belongs to all wizards and families, and stability is paramount… At least until the international delegation leaves England, he will not make any moves!”
Another also said, “Your envoy, Phil of the Travers family, has already gone to welcome the delegation. We will not disturb you further. You are welcome to visit our families in the future. Goodbye, Mr. Weasley!”
“Alright, goodbye!”
After bidding farewell, the two hooded wizards rode their broomsticks and shot into the sky.
Watching their figures quickly disappear into the thick fog, Vaughn then asked Dumbledore, “Do you think they have the ability to withstand the pressure from Fudge?”
Old Dumbledore shook his head slightly, “It’s hard to say.”
“What you said makes sense,” Amelia said. “Fudge’s position is illegitimate; he maintains balance solely through the contradictions between pure-blood families and major wizarding families. Others understand this. He might be very angry this time, but he likely won’t make a direct move.”
“I think, instead, he will use this revealed weakness to build his ‘underdog’ persona and win over some pure-blood families… And you’ve already handed him the knife. If nothing unexpected happens, Arthur’s proposed bill should pass through him quickly. Only by making the threat against pure-bloods a reality can those guys be forced to make a decision.”
Amelia still held some reservations about Vaughn’s decisions.
Vaughn smiled and casually reassured the witch, not explaining further. Some things couldn’t be explained by words alone. He changed the subject and asked Dumbledore,
“Is there anything to be aware of regarding the delegation from the International Confederation of Wizards this time?”
Although as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School, Dumbledore was “extremely busy” and had almost no energy to work at the International Confederation of Wizards.
But he was, after all, the President of the Confederation, the leader of that world’s number one power organization.
Facing Vaughn’s inquiry, the leader scratched his face, “Hmm… there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly noteworthy… Ah! Babajide Ajinbad, the head of the delegation this time, you need to be careful of him.”
“Oh? Why?”
Vaughn knew this person, but only from some basic information. He was said to be from Uganda, a graduate of the even more mysterious Uagadou in the wizarding world, and a rising political star in the international wizarding community in recent years.
“How should I put it…” Old Dumbledore thought for a moment and uttered one word: “Ambition!”
“He is a very ambitious young wizard. I mean, he’s not even 80 years old yet, in his prime, and always eager to achieve something.”
Dumbledore said, spreading his hands, “When a person is eager to accomplish something, their methods are bound to be impatient and radical. Specifically, he is very aggressive. If you don’t want trouble, my advice is to be more gentle when facing him, and if you need to concede, then concede.”
“…Is his position higher than yours?”
“Oh, of course not as high as mine, he’s just one of the Vice Presidents.” Dumbledore blinked.
