Chapter 73: Vaughn’s Speech
At this moment, the more than one hundred people sitting in the Hall fell silent the instant Vaughn began to speak.
They looked, stared, and scrutinized this child.
Vaughn paid no heed to their gazes. His eyes swept past Fudge’s stiff smile, over the crowd, and out the luxurious floor-to-ceiling windows of the Hall, to the street blanketed in thick snow.
He was telling a story, a story that had actually happened.
“Many people are curious why I developed the Wolfsbane Potion, and I’ve never responded because I didn’t know how to explain it to others. Don’t misunderstand, I was just worried you wouldn’t be able to comprehend!”
The main podium amplified his voice, carrying it to everyone’s ears.
By the Hall doors, Dumbledore, who had been absent for a long time, stood there at some point, holding the Elder Wand. The tip of the wand casually rested on the glass, spreading imperceptible ripples.
The glass and the Hall itself, an alchemical marvel, quietly opened a passage, transmitting sound waves outside.
“It was when I was about six years old. One day, I saw documents my father brought home. It was an inter-departmental personnel transfer request from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They needed some new hands to participate in the work of two subordinate departments, which were the Beast Office and the Department for the Regulation of Magical Beings…”
Vaughn paused here. He saw some people in the crowd still looking blank, while some Ministry officials had reacted to what Vaughn was about to say but looked puzzled, seemingly not understanding why he mentioned this.
Vaughn lowered his eyelids slightly: “They needed new personnel, transferred to the Werewolf Registry, the Werewolf Capture Program, and the Werewolf Support Services Section of the Department for the Regulation of Magical Beings!”
“Everyone here probably can’t comprehend the shock of a child at that time – the werewolf issue, why was it placed under the Beast Office? I always thought that place managed Fire Dragons, Ghouls, and Hinkypunks…”
On the street outside, hearing the voices from the Great Hall, Aurors emerged from various corners.
To ensure everything went smoothly today, Fudge, despite Rufus Scrimgeour’s protests, had dispatched dozens of Aurors to Diagon Alley.
Of course, for the psychological well-being of the guests, especially those from Pure-blood families, Mr. Fudge did not allow Aurors to be an eyesore in front of everyone.
Delric, who had passed his Auror exams last year, was still a rookie. He quietly listened to the child-like voice from the Great Hall and asked the senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt next to him:
“Captain, is it true?”
“Mm…”
Kingsley nodded silently.
Delric’s lips moved a few times. “I always thought werewolves had a dedicated department to manage them. How could they be put… put in the Beast Office?”
Kingsley didn’t answer. Many young people who joined the Ministry had asked this question, and as they grew older, they all forgot.
No one knew how this discrimination had formed or how it had subtly permeated. The longer they stayed at the Ministry, the more it felt as if, from the very beginning, wizards had not considered werewolves as humans!
The surrounding Aurors’ expressions were somewhat strange; some showed disdain, some contemplation, and some unease.
Suddenly, a commotion arose from the beginning of Diagon Alley, near the Leaky Cauldron. The Auror closest to there, named Savik, frowned and looked towards it.
He saw over a dozen raggedly dressed people walk through the iconic narrow archway of the Diagon Alley entrance, hesitantly moving towards them.
“Hey, who are you people? Diagon Alley is closed today, all shops are temporarily closed. If you have needs, please come back in the afternoon!”
“Are you listening? Stop!”
Those people ignored his warning. They heard the voice coming from the Great Hall:
“…I thought everyone would approach werewolves with a fair attitude, recognizing them as victims of Lycanthropy. But over the years, I haven’t seen such people…”
Vaughn’s voice echoed through Diagon Alley. Savik noticed that these more than a dozen vagrant-like individuals suddenly began to shed tears at the sound.
Savik didn’t want to ponder what they were raving about. He drew his wand: ” *Stupefy* —”
Before the spell was finished, a vagrant at the front with a hideous scar on his face raised his wand, unleashing a red light that struck Savik, sending him flying.
“Attack—”
“Damn it, they’re werewolves!”
All the Aurors turned their attention to the commotion because of the Disarming Charm. Some raised their wands to retaliate, while others ran towards the Great Hall.
At this moment, Kingsley Shacklebolt shouted: “Stop, all of you, what are you doing?”
“Captain…”
Some still wanted to defy the order, but Kingsley ignored them. His eyes stared in shock at the archway at the entrance of Diagon Alley.
The others also looked, and then their scalps tingled—
One, ten, one hundred…
More and more ragged, gaunt people, like vagrants, walked over from that direction.
In an instant, it was a mass of people.
Roughly counting, there were several hundred people, led by the first dozen wizards who appeared, walking towards them.
As far as the eye could see, there were only heads!
All… werewolves!
Delric swallowed with fear. He had never seen so many werewolves gathered together. Although theoretically, werewolves without their transformation did not pose a great threat, and many werewolves could not transform at will.
But what was frustrating was that the wizarding world had not solved the problem of werewolves losing their minds; instead, they had invented potions that could force werewolves to transform…
His eyes trembled as he looked at Kingsley, only to find that his captain did not seem too frightened.
Delric looked carefully and realized that the werewolves were not making any threatening moves. They were just staring intently at the Great Hall behind the Aurors with excited expressions, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
They… were listening to the child inside speak!
Delric suddenly understood.
“Everyone make way!” Kingsley commanded.
No one resisted this time. The dense crowd of werewolves before them left them flustered, and they subconsciously obeyed Kingsley’s words, moving to the sides of the street.
The ragged werewolf wizard at the front nodded gratefully to Kingsley and continued towards the Great Hall.
Everyone was quiet. What shocked Delric was that he saw many children in the crowd, holding their parents’ hands, walking with the adults in the snow. The falling snow seemed to be captivated by the intense emotions in their eyes and chose to detour around them.
The commotion on the street outside was also noticed inside the Hall.
Many people stood up in surprise, watching the raggedly dressed people approach. Below the main podium, Umbridge clung tightly to Fudge’s arm, while Fudge’s face was ashen, tinged with paleness.
The members of the Wizengamot on the second floor were whispering amongst themselves.
On the main podium, Vaughn took in all their expressions—their astonishment, panic, and inquiry.
The werewolves finally stopped outside the Hall, their gazes towards the place filled with both anticipation and trepidation.
Like everyone else, Vaughn looked at the crowd standing in the snow, at the elderly and children within it. He raised his wand and pointed at them.
Magic made his voice carry to the sky:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please tell me, are these people standing before you beasts, or humans?”
The crowd in the Hall reacted differently to Vaughn’s question.
Some Pure-bloods remained expressionless, as if the werewolves outside were mere dust, and nothing could shake their resolve or persistence.
Others among the Pure-bloods were more complex. They whispered and pointed at those outside. The Pure-blood families from which these individuals came belonged to the more open-minded category.
As for the reporters from England and various countries, they were frantically taking pictures of the werewolf crowd with their cameras. The originally mundane award ceremony had suddenly turned into this; it was clearly major news.
No one answered Vaughn’s question.
The first category of Pure-bloods had always maintained a superior attitude. Don’t expect to find people who would be moved to pity by a soul-stirring question when they were in front of them. Their minds had long been corroded and ossified by the concepts of “Pure-blood Supremacy” and “Family Supremacy.” Vaughn had never considered them as targets.
Only the second category of Pure-bloods and the reporters were his main focus.
If he hadn’t fooled Fudge and used the name of Fudge and the Ministry of Magic, he wouldn’t have been able to gather these people!
Amidst the continuous clicking of shutters, Vaughn answered his own question:
“In my view, their lives are worse than those of beasts. Does anyone know why they are so destitute?”
The second category of Pure-bloods and the reporters, as well as the Wizengamot members on the second floor, exchanged glances.
Among the first category of Pure-bloods who remained expressionless, one suddenly scoffed: “I don’t want to concern myself with how some stupid fellows are lazy and good-for-nothing, bringing themselves to ruin. Right, Weasley?”
Vaughn looked over. It was someone whose appearance he felt was unworthy of remembering.
But he remembered the surname, as Fudge had introduced him earlier.
Selwyn, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a notoriously radical Pure-blood.
Selwyn seemed to think he was very humorous and burst into laughter. Several people next to him joined in the laughter. Then they saw Vaughn on the main podium expressionlessly raise his wand and point at him!
Selwyn became furious: “What, want to cast a spell on me, Weasley? Then I’ll teach you a lesson on behalf of your parents. *Expelliarmus* —”
Red light shot out from the tip of his wand.
Vaughn casually swept his hand in front of him, and a powerful shield of clear outline appeared.
The crowd watched in astonishment as the red light struck it without causing even a ripple. Only then, after waiting for the opponent to make the first move, did Vaughn slowly utter a spell.
A more dazzling and powerful Disarming Charm directly broke through Selwyn’s hastily conjured Full Body-Bind Curse, sending him flying.
The wand spun and landed in Vaughn’s hand!
It happened very quickly. By the time Selwyn fell, others around him reacted. A middle-aged man quickly drew his wand and rushed onto the main podium to shield Vaughn. The reporters, meanwhile, swiftly shifted their focus, surrounding Vaughn and the fallen Selwyn and taking a flurry of photos.
The middle-aged man was named Oliver Prewett. Judging by his surname, it was obvious why he stepped out to defend Vaughn—Prewett was Molly’s maiden family.
Vaughn thanked him: “Thank you, Uncle, but please let me handle this myself.”
Having said that, he threw away the wand in his hand and walked down from the main podium to stand before the disgraced Selwyn, who lay on the ground unable to get up after taking a Disarming Charm, and his cronies.
He looked down at them: “There are always some ignorant fools who like to make untimely jokes at inappropriate occasions!”
Looking at the coldness in his eyes, the few people felt both anger and a hint of fear.
The people around them were also whispering.
“Such a powerful Full Body-Bind Curse. Selwyn was like being tickled.”
“And silent casting too…”
“Damn it, didn’t you feel his Magic Power?”
Pure-bloods believed in strength. Perhaps Vaughn should thank Mr. Selwyn, as he successfully served as a negative example, reminding the Pure-bloods that Vaughn, who still looked like a child, was far more powerful than they imagined!
At this point, their attitudes finally became a bit more serious, listening attentively to this unique “award acceptance speech.”
Vaughn scanned the people around him. “Mr. Selwyn just seemed to think that the werewolves’ predicament was due to their laziness and stupidity…”
Such condescending words, it seemed, were found in every world.
You’re poor because you’re lazy, you’re poor because you’re stupid.
Of course, it wasn’t because they truly believed that intelligence and diligence could solve all difficulties. It was merely an excuse to maintain their noble persona—I am noble because I am intelligent and diligent, and my nobility is therefore justified!
He scoffed inwardly, then turned and loudly asked outside: “Little Barnaby, tell me, is it because you are lazy and stupid?”
A young man stepped out from among the werewolves and answered loudly: “Of course not, sir.”
“Then what is it because of?”
Little Barnaby looked at the magnificent Hall before him, then at his own ragged clothes, and tears welled up: “It’s because we exiled ourselves to the wilderness…”
“Why did you exile yourselves?”
“Because we were afraid of harming others… afraid that after waking up each full moon, we would see innocent lives destroyed by our hands!”
Little Barnaby’s voice choked. He cried not only because of the pain of survival but also because their kindness was unknown and had just been trampled upon!
The injustice and resentment made his tears flow uncontrollably.
The werewolves behind him also gradually began to sob.
On one side of the door, the well-dressed people in the Hall looked at each other in silence. They silently watched the werewolves standing in the wind and snow, and watched Vaughn turn around, meeting their gazes one by one.
The atmosphere was heavy and oppressive.
Although some minds were still rigid, more people had actually begun to change their attitudes.
Werewolf stories were very prevalent in the wizarding world, but in reality, they rarely encountered werewolves. They mostly heard about Greyback and his werewolf army causing trouble everywhere. As for the other group, those who exiled themselves and wandered, at least most people had not understood them before today.
Vaughn looked at the silent people before him. He didn’t expect a single demonstration or speech to completely overturn deeply ingrained beliefs.
That was not what he was pursuing.
For him, as long as he could shift some people’s attitudes today and let the events of today spread, it would be enough.
The spread was for the sake of the werewolves’ public opinion and also for himself.
And the change in attitude of some people present was related to what he wanted to achieve!
Amidst the sobs of the werewolves outside the door, he walked back to the main podium: “Ladies and gentlemen, I invented the Wolfsbane Potion, which suppresses the Werewolf Virus. Theoretically, we could begin to address the werewolf problem. But regrettably, another poison in people’s hearts is far more terrifying than Lycanthropy—it is called prejudice!”
“The Ministry of Magic throws werewolves to the Beast Office, but ladies and gentlemen, they are not beasts. They have intelligence, emotions, joy and sorrow, and I can even say that they are all noble people!”
“Regarding werewolves, the Ministry of Magic is undoubtedly prejudiced. For many days and nights, I have doubted whether the Wolfsbane Potion can truly solve the problem under the guidance of such prejudice.”
“I don’t know the answer. I can only start by trying to take the first step. I mailed the recipe to the Extraordinary Potioneers Association and the Ministry of Magic, and to the respected Minister Cornelius Fudge, I want to know his thoughts on this matter.”
As he spoke, Vaughn looked up at the second floor. Dumbledore, clad in purple robes, was sitting there at some point. Seeing Vaughn’s gesture,
he stood up, and to everyone’s surprise, pointed his wand downwards diagonally.
wisps of smoke sprayed from the tip of the wand, so thick that it resembled paint dropped into water. It fell and spread along the floor, soon forming two simple human-shaped outlines.
The moment people saw the two human-shaped outlines, they recognized them. One short figure was Vaughn Weasley, and the other short and stout one was Cornelius Fudge!
Fudge’s face instantly turned pale.
He seemed to want to rush forward, to say something, but he hesitated under the indifferent gazes of Vaughn and Dumbledore.
Soon, this Memory Magic re-enacted the conversation between Fudge and Vaughn at the Three Broomsticks at that time.
The overall effect was far inferior to that of a Pensieve, but on this occasion, it was sufficient.
“…Child, I need you to grant me a small favor. As the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, call upon werewolves to abide by the ‘Werewolf Registration Act’…”
Hearing about the Werewolf Registration Act, the Wizengamot members on the second floor began to whisper, while those on the first floor looked somewhat bewildered.
Vaughn bowed to Dumbledore, thanking him for his help, then waved his hand to disperse the smoke. “It seems some friends are not clear about the content of the ‘Werewolf Registration Act.’ It is a law enacted around the 17th century. In my opinion, it should be called ‘Regulations for Dangerous Beasts’.”
“As a magical statute, the designer endowed it with a vow-binding magic from the outset. As long as werewolves provide detailed personal information, hair, and blood samples according to the registration law’s requirements, they automatically agree to the vow.”
“Those who sign the vow cannot violate any clause of the statute, such as where they can live, the time limits for their activities each day, and what measures to take during a full moon…”
Vaughn spread his hands: “This so-called statute is not for registration at all, but to put shackles on the ‘beasts’ in their eyes!”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I invented the Wolfsbane Potion to help the kind people outside, not to push them into the fire pit… Over the past centuries, the ‘Werewolf Registration Act’ has proven ineffective. No one will voluntarily bind their freedom and life to a statute.”
“Or rather, if werewolves were willing to bind their freedom and life to the statute, what would they become?”
The answer was obvious.
The kind werewolves outside would become beasts, beasts managed by the statute!
Apart from other aspects, the people present were quite sensitive politically. The first category of Pure-bloods on the first floor, who had come for this very reason, notwithstanding, the Wizengamot members on the second floor were already furious.
One short, hot-tempered old woman took off her shoe and threw it at Fudge’s head: “You damned short, fat man, what are you trying to do?”
“Mrs. Marchbanks, please calm down first.”
“Let go of me, Albus, let me beat this scoundrel to death. If I had known he would be so driven by greed, I shouldn’t have let him graduate when I was proctoring his exam!”
Albus Dumbledore, over a hundred years old, carefully held back the even older Mrs. Marchbanks. Amelia Burns also stood up, blocking the old man and woman who were trembling and cursing Fudge.
Fudge covered his head in embarrassment. Beside him, the loyal Ms. Umbridge displayed her professional sycophancy, firmly using her plump body to shield Mr. Minister.
This also made her the primary target of attacks from upstairs. Soon, she was covered in shoes and wigs. Her fluffy curly hair was even stained with a pair of dentures that someone had thrown.
The reporters were excited, clicking their cameras furiously, capturing this astonishing scene.
They had already thought of the headlines—
Wizengamot Beats Up Minister for Magic!
A Group of Centenarian Wizards Ganged Up on a 50-Year-Old Young Man!
The chaotic scene lasted for a while before returning to calm with the efforts of Dumbledore and Amelia Burns.
After ushering a group of old wizards, who had one foot in the grave, back to their seats, Amelia stood up and announced loudly: “Mr. Vaughn Weasley, your speech today was very… peculiar…”
She looked back out the window at the werewolves still waiting quietly in the cold wind and said, “Thank you for making the Wizengamot aware that werewolves are not all like Greyback. So, what is your intention?”
Looking up at her, Vaughn replied calmly: “As I stated earlier, I hope to provide some help to these wandering werewolves, some help that is free from prejudice and discrimination, and not bound by shackles. Therefore, I implore you and Mr. Dumbledore to convene the Wizengamot for a plenary session to discuss the establishment of a Werewolf Affairs Committee!”
Upon hearing this, the Hall buzzed with discussion again.
With the preceding buildup, everyone now understood what kind of nature his proposed “Werewolf Affairs Committee” would have.
Vaughn paid no mind to their discussions and continued: “The werewolf issue is a problem for the entire wizarding world and should be borne by the wizarding world together. However, given the backward system of the Ministry of Magic and the immense risks involved, it clearly cannot bear such responsibilities. Therefore, I propose that the ‘Werewolf Affairs Committee’ be independent of the Ministry of Magic and propose that the Wizengamot reclaim all management and disposition powers over werewolves from the Ministry of Magic.”
At this point, even the feigning-death Fudge couldn’t help himself. He struggled to get up and roared, “Vaughn Weasley, you… you are splitting up the Ministry of Magic!”
If looks could kill, Vaughn would have been riddled with holes long ago.
Fudge could never have imagined that he would one day be defeated by a child.
However, Fudge’s roar did not receive even a glance from Vaughn. He calmly continued: “Considering the prevalent discrimination in the wizarding world, werewolves must constitute half of the membership of the Werewolf Affairs Committee. For the remaining half, I propose that the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards jointly appoint members…”
The International Confederation of Wizards!
Including Fudge, everyone looked up at the second floor, at Dumbledore.
In a daze, people seemed to see the world’s greatest white wizard, who was rumored to dislike power, extending his claws…
