Chapter 154: Vaughn Weasley Is Changing This World!
While Old Bardi and Vaughn were going over the procedures, the outside world was also in an uproar due to the upcoming WAC conference.
Early in the morning, a flurry of owls from the 《Daily Prophet》 covered the sky.
Freshly printed newspapers sent the news into every household, allowing the onlookers who couldn’t make it to London to experience the fiery atmosphere of the upcoming conference.
The Granger family also received a newspaper.
Hermione was woken by the sound of rapping on the window. When she opened her eyes, the owl delivering the 《Daily Prophet》 was standing outside the window, pecking fiercely at the glass with its beak, its round eyes glaring at her with dissatisfaction.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here so early.”
Hermione apologized as she quickly opened the window.
The cool morning air that streamed in from outside made the girl, clad only in a thin nightgown, shiver.
After letting the annoyed owl in, she frantically looked for her coat and satchel.
“5 Knuts, here you go… Sorry, your colleague ate the last of the owl treats yesterday. I have some cat food left, would you like…?”
The owl stared blankly at the cat food the girl offered.
It widened its round eyes and stared at Hermione’s head for a long time, perhaps contemplating what substance could exist in her mind that would lead her to believe it would eat cat food.
That was disgusting stuff meant for lowly cats!
The owl snatched the copper Knut and flew away in a huff. Hermione felt a little regret that she hadn’t managed to push the cat food, but she quickly shifted her attention.
As in the past few days, the front page of the 《Daily Prophet》 today was still about the WAC.
However, the content was no longer the arguments between supporters and opponents, nor was it debates about whether the WAC should exist.
The front page featured a large photograph.
Hermione recognized it at a glance. It was from the ceremony at the beginning of the year when Vaughn was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class. The photo had already been on the front page once then.
In the cinematic scene, snow fell from a gloomy sky. Vaughn, standing on a high platform bathed in the flashing magnesium light, passionately extended his hand, surrounded by Wizengamot members, with Fudge standing nearby, his face pale.
In the direction of his outstretched finger, amidst the thick snow, were werewolves, emerging in a dense, thronging crowd!
The photographer had perfectly captured that breathtaking moment and composition, and now it was on the front page again.
The headline was also quite different:
The WAC Will Be Officially Established Tonight!
Vaughn Weasley!
He is changing this world!
The article was written by Rita Skeeter.
Hermione used to dislike her intensely because she maliciously fabricated stories about Vaughn and Dumbledore.
A while ago, when the Progressives （ supporting the WAC ） and the Conservatives （ opposing it ） were engaged in a newspaper war, Rita Skeeter, with just her pen, verbally thrashed more than a dozen conservative scholars.
A while ago, when the Progressives （ supported WAC ） and the Conservatives （ opposed it ）, they engaged in a war of words in the newspapers, and Rita Skeeter, with just her pen, verbally thrashed more than a dozen conservative scholars.
She was like a war god.
Furthermore, she never used vulgar language when scolding others. She employed all sorts of sarcastic remarks and dug up dirt on her opponents from unknown sources, releasing it bit by bit to whet the readers’ appetite, turning the verbal spat into something like a suspense novel, attracting a large readership while also torturing her opponents.
A few days ago, Hermione saw a wizard lose his temper in the 《Witch Weekly》 and publicly declared that Rita Skeeter should watch her step, advising her to “be prepared for a Killing Curse even when using the toilet.”
Perhaps it was just an impulsive remark made in a moment of anger by that wizard.
However, given that Rita had reported on his dark secrets, and he had previously abused Muggles, a large number of readers sent letters to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, demanding severe punishment.
The next day, he was arrested by Aurors, and the 《Daily Prophet》 even dedicated an entire page to reporting the incident.
In short, everyone now knew that Rita Skeeter was a staunch supporter of Vaughn Weasley.
Progressives called her “Helen,” referring to Helen Duncan, a seer who, during World War II, made prophecies about the Allied forces’ operations out of worry for her two sons serving in the army. She was eventually tried by Muggles and died for persisting in her prophecies.
It is now often used to describe witches who do not yield to threats of death and powerful individuals. （ Helen Duncan was a real person who was convicted of witchcraft by a British court during World War II for “leaking information.” It has been slightly adapted here. ）
The Conservatives, of course, had nothing good to say, considering her a running dog of Vaughn Weasley, a lowly woman who kissed red-headed shoes, an unruly bitch!
They wished they could get rid of her as soon as possible.
However, Rita Skeeter clearly didn’t care about her opponents. After being threatened, she disappeared for a few days, and Hermione guessed she was hiding. But in her writing today, she hadn’t changed her stance:
“…Today will be a great day, a day worthy of historical remembrance. Friends who support the WAC, years from now, you will be thankful for your support and solidarity today. A new era is dawning upon us, and those rotten, backward things will eventually be swept into the trash heap…”
The flattery, almost overflowing from the words, made Hermione a little embarrassed. She felt it was excessive praise for Vaughn and a bit awkward, yet her heart was filled with joy – which girl wouldn’t want her boyfriend to be seen as outstanding and great by others?
Unfortunately, she couldn’t attend the conference venue today.
Of course, it wasn’t that anyone had forbidden her from going. Although the WAC conference was a serious occasion, there were no restrictions on the banquet afterward. If she went, she could attend then.
The main reason she couldn’t go was that today was July 31st.
Harry’s birthday!
Throughout the month of correspondence, Harry had lamented more than once the boredom and loneliness of his summer vacation, saying he missed Hogwarts and the days they spent playing together.
Thinking of her little friend huddled in the attic, looking pathetic, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to abandon him on his birthday.
“Sigh…”
With a sigh, Hermione stopped thinking about it.
Moreover, Vaughn supported her visiting Harry, and she could also help him deliver his birthday gift.
Time passed quickly.
After finishing the newspaper, washing up, eating breakfast, and reviewing some homework, it was already noon.
Around 1 p.m. in the afternoon, Hermione heard a car stop downstairs. She poked her head out from the attic and saw Mr. Arthur Weasley getting out of the car and greeting her father, who had opened the door.
Ron followed behind.
They had come to pick her up.
Hermione quickly changed her clothes, put her and Vaughn’s gifts into her satchel, and ran downstairs with a spring in her step.
“Uncle Arthur, Ron!”
She called out from a distance.
When she got closer, Arthur had already warmly taken her satchel. “Good afternoon, dear. Molly and I miss you dearly. When will you come to The Burrow for a stay?”
Hermione was delighted and quickly agreed, ignoring her father’s twitching expression.
After a few pleasantries, Arthur happily ushered Hermione and Ron into the car. “Children, let’s go… Brother, we’re leaving now. We’ll chat again next time we visit The Burrow.”
“Uh…”
Granger wanted to say something, but no one cared about his thoughts. The car sped away, leaving him standing there awkwardly.
Inside the car, Hermione was talking to Ron.
“Have you finished your summer homework?”
Ron, who had been happy to see Hermione, suddenly drooped his face upon hearing this. “Are you a devil? There’s still a month left until the end of summer vacation, what’s the rush!”
“Hmph!”
His reaction was as Hermione expected. The girl snorted, “I’m not in a hurry, I just hope you won’t be crying and begging to copy my homework when school starts!”
Arthur, concentrating on driving, couldn’t help but glance back at his younger son.
Ron, startled, quickly changed the subject. “Uh, did you bring your and Vaughn’s gifts?”
“Of course.”
Hermione opened her satchel and took out their gifts. Vaughn’s was a very thin box, wrapped with paper and ribbon.
Hers was not wrapped. It was a magic book about Quidditch, detailing the tactics and practice scenes of top European Quidditch teams in recent years.
Ron was uninterested in Vaughn’s gift, but upon seeing the book Hermione was giving, his eyes lit up.
“Merlin’s beard, is that the out-of-print 《European Elite Quidditch Skills Compendium》? How did you find it?”
Hermione smiled proudly. “In a rather obscure magazine. That’s the benefit of reading a lot.”
Ron didn’t care about reading a lot. He stared at the cover of the magic book, where a scene of Irish team members chasing each other in the clouds during practice was depicted. His throat bobbed. “Hermione, that…”
“What do you want? This is for Harry!”
“Ah!”
Ron sighed in disappointment.
Arthur was very fond of Muggle cars.
But if there was anything inconvenient about driving, it was definitely there.
For example, traffic jams.
Such a terrible thing, even wizards couldn’t do anything about it, unless they wanted to create a magical exposure accident in front of countless Muggles on the road and then be brought to the Wizengamot’s judgment hall. In that case, they could make the car fly directly to Privet Drive.
At the same time, in Little Whinging, Surrey, on the southwest side of Greater London.
In the cramped attic of the Dursley house, Harry, for the umpteenth time, poked his head out of the narrow window, looking expectantly at the sky.
But all he saw was the unchanging overcast clouds.
Harry sighed inwardly, pulled his head back, and rested his chin on the windowsill, lost in thought.
The sound of the television came from downstairs. It was his cousin Dudley watching cartoons, or perhaps Aunt Petunia watching her favorite melodramatic TV series.
In any case, it couldn’t be Uncle Vernon.
He had gone to work and hadn’t returned yet!
Everything was as usual, as if no one had noticed what day it was… No, not “as if.” Aunt Petunia and Uncle might have genuinely forgotten it was his birthday.
Or perhaps, they were deliberately pretending not to know.
Harry knew very well that his aunt and uncle detested magic and wizards. They were furious about his decision to insist on attending Hogwarts.
Last year, if it hadn’t been for Hagrid, they would absolutely not have let him leave.
Even after agreeing to his enrollment under Hagrid’s “threat,” it didn’t mean they had let go of their resentment. After returning for the holidays, his aunt and uncle treated him with cold faces.
His cousin Dudley also called him a freak.
Fortunately, the Dursleys, being Muggles, were completely unaware of the rules of the wizarding world.
Thinking of this, Harry chuckled slyly. He remembered when he came back, Uncle Vernon had roughly thrown his luggage into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry had suddenly pulled out his wand, and the man had trembled all over with fright.
He had long since thrown the holiday notice given to him when he left school into the trash can at the station. He had had enough of the days of being bullied and unable to resist.
He didn’t want the Dursleys to see the holiday notice, he didn’t want them to know that he couldn’t use magic outside of school.
He wanted to use the Dursleys’ fear of magic to get better conditions for himself.
For example, living in the “spacious” attic like now.
He wouldn’t be jumped on by the hateful Dudley above him every day, getting dust all over his head, nor would he bump his head every morning when getting up.
He even had his own window.
These were all things he had “exchanged” by waving his wand.
In return, the Dursleys became increasingly fearful and resentful of him. They began to ignore his existence, as if the person Harry Potter didn’t exist. They didn’t talk to him, not even looking at him.
But Harry didn’t care.
He had never cared about this cold, unwelcoming home.
After staring into space for a moment, Harry opened a drawer and took out the letters Hermione and Ron had written to him earlier. He had read the contents of the letters many times. The parchment had become frayed from being flipped over, but he was not tired of them.
Looking at the various interesting anecdotes written by his two friends in the letters, he curled his lips in self-satisfaction.
The sky gradually grew late as he read.
Harry heard the honking of a car. It was Uncle Vernon returning from work. The downstairs area immediately became lively, with his uncle’s loud voice boasting about his day, the problems he had solved, and the clients he had met.
Aunt Petunia echoed him in a shrill voice, and his cousin Dudley clamored for food.
Harry dejectedly put away the letter paper and looked out the window again. In the gradually darkening night, the rising houses stretched to the end of his vision, with the dim, slightly orange horizon as a backdrop. Lights flickered on, some far, some near.
The sounds of playing, arguing, and laughing… they converged above the neighborhood.
Whether noisy or peaceful, they were the flavors of home, belonging to every family.
Except for him…
*Thud!*
A light sound came from the roof outside the window.
Harry almost thought he had imagined it, but soon he heard the sound again, as if someone was climbing from below, stepping on the tiles.
Harry curiously opened the window.
The next moment, he was so startled he almost cried out – a large, red face slowly “rose” from the eaves not far away. Seeing him, the large face beamed with joy:
“Harry!”
Uh…
Harry, who instinctively gripped his wand, recognized at this moment that it was Ron?
It was Ron!
Harry quickly leaned out and saw Ron clinging to the eaves like a toad.
Further away, outside the garden fence, Hermione stood by the bushes along the road, waving at him.
A great joy suddenly surged from his chest, causing his eyes to well up with tears.
Harry instinctively stepped out of the window. Seeing him leave, Hedwig in the cage struggled and screeched desperately, her cries alarming those downstairs.
*Thump-thump-thump-thump…*
With footsteps as heavy as stone, someone ran upstairs and burst through the door.
It was Uncle Vernon!
Seeing Harry with one leg out the window and the large head appearing at the eaves outside the window, Uncle Vernon’s fat face turned red. “Bloody hell, you—”
Harry quickly drew his wand and pointed it at him.
The curse that was about to be spoken abruptly stopped. Vernon, terrified, pressed himself tightly against the wall, but he still shouted, “What are you doing, going to run away with that bad guy outside?”
“He’s my friend!” Harry said nervously, “They’ve come to celebrate my birthday!”
“What bullsh*t friend, what bullsh*t birthday, get back here, and you, red-headed thief! Freak! Get out of my house!”
Harry didn’t want to deal with the hysterical Uncle Vernon anymore.
He opened Hedwig’s cage and released her. While pointing his wand at Vernon, he climbed out the window. Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who had heard their argument downstairs, also rushed up.
The Dursleys stared fearfully at Harry’s wand, only able to watch as he climbed out of the room, slid down the roof, and then bolted out of the yard with a red-haired boy.
For 12 years.
Harry had never done anything so thrilling. He ran out of the Dursley house, ignoring the screams of Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and Uncle Vernon’s roar of “Damn freak, get out, get out, don’t ever come back!”
He just ran, meeting up with Ron, and then Hermione. The three of them ran all the way out of the neighborhood before stopping, breathless.
Then the three of them looked at each other and burst into laughter, laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
After a while, Ron, finally able to catch his breath, gave Harry a hard clap on the shoulder. “You really scared me, mate. No wonder you always looked so timid when you mentioned the Dursleys before.”
“No way…”
Harry panted, wanting to explain, but Ron had already pulled out a gift and shoved it into his hand, interrupting him:
“Happy birthday, Harry!”
Harry blinked, and Hermione, standing beside him, opened her satchel and handed him two gifts, “Happy birthday, Harry!”
Holding gifts in his hands, with his friends’ blessings in his ears.
This scene he had anticipated all day, this moment that should have been happy, Harry suddenly found he had forgotten how to react.
A cool breeze swept past the entrance of the street, making his eyes sting, and something flowed out. Harry quickly covered his eyes and rubbed them desperately:
“Ouch, my eyes feel like they have sand in them.”
Ron, usually boisterous, became attentive at this moment: “Which one? Let me blow it for you.”
Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes, too lazy to deal with Ron, who always made people awkward. She looked to the other side of the street block, where Arthur’s car was parked in front of an old-fashioned two-story house.
The owner of the house was an old woman, whose name she didn’t know. Arthur had taken them to the intersection of Little Whinging and hadn’t even entered Privet Drive before turning to find that old woman. It was said she was an old friend of his.
Although Hermione couldn’t see any trace of a wizard on the old woman, she felt like a normal Muggle.
But how could it be such a coincidence that Arthur’s “old friend” happened to live near Harry?
After a series of events at school, Hermione had long since realized that Dumbledore and Vaughn were paying close attention to Harry, and that attention undoubtedly included concern.
But Hermione always felt that their attention on Harry was more like preparation for something…
“Hermione, what are you thinking about?”
Ron’s voice broke the girl’s thoughts.
Hermione turned back and saw Ron and Harry, those two, getting chummy again, leaning on each other as they unwrapped gifts.
To be precise, Ron was introducing the book Hermione had given him to Harry: “This book is very rare. It records the training and tactics of almost all active European powerhouses in the past few years. I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. You know, many books in the wizarding world are privately published, and no one knows where the authors sell them.”
I don’t know!
Harry, a novice in the wizarding world, grumbled to himself, but he also knew that the book was indeed very precious, especially for him, who had only started getting into Quidditch last year.
He happily stroked the cover of the book and thanked Hermione, “Thank you for your gift, Hermione, you’ve been a great help.”
Next was Ron’s.
Watching Harry unwrap the zip tie, he suddenly stammered: “It’s nothing valuable… I took it from my own collection, it’s been a long time… there might be a problem…”
Harry opened the box, and inside was a doll about three inches tall. The doll was wearing an orange uniform and cloak, and was flying crookedly and slowly, like an old plane about to break down.
Ron scratched his face: “Uh, if you want it, you might need to get it repaired… but I promise it’s very valuable. This is a Seeker doll released by the Chuddley Cannons during their last victory. They haven’t produced any since, and very few people can find them. Of course, if you don’t like it…”
“I love it, Ron!”
Harry actually wasn’t interested in the Chuddley Cannons – a team whose last glory dated back to the 19th century. Besides history, what else was there to pay attention to?
However, he knew that Ron was a loyal fan of the Chuddley Cannons.
What he cared about was his friendship with Ron; the gift itself wasn’t important.
But Ron clearly didn’t see it that way. This was the first time he had heard anyone like the Chuddley Cannons, and he immediately said excitedly, “Excellent taste, Harry, you were born at a good time. This is the Chuddley Cannons’ most promising year. If they win another match in August, they’ll be promoted to ninth place in the league!”
Ron was very proud.
Harry fell into deep thought.
How many teams were there in total in the English and Irish Quidditch League?
To prevent Ron from labeling him a Chuddley Cannons fan, Harry quickly opened the last gift.
Vaughn’s gift, thin like a document.
While Harry was still unwrapping it, Ron began his wild imagination again, “You have to be careful, maybe it’s a cursed parchment. Vaughn would absolutely do something like that.”
Hermione couldn’t help but scold him, “How can you think of your own brother so badly?”
Ron pouted, “If you received a giant spider on your eighth birthday, and that spider wrapped you up with its silk and prepared to drag you away, you’d think the same way, you silly girl!”
But to Ron’s disappointment, nothing terrible happened after Harry opened the gift.
Inside was just a very ordinary photograph.
It was an old black-and-white photograph, the material slightly yellowed, as if it had been left out for a long time. The photo depicted Hogwarts in winter; they could see the Black Lake covered in thick ice in the distance.
And in focus, by the snow-covered fountain in the castle courtyard, stood a young man and a young woman, laughing heartily, shaking hands and dancing.
The faces of those two people were unfamiliar.
Yet they looked so familiar.
Ron looked at the man in the photo, then at Harry, and suddenly realized: “Are these your parents?”
Yes…
Harry’s eyes were somewhat dazed.
He recognized the two people in the photo. Last year, when he accidentally found the Mirror of Erised, it was them he had seen in the mirror.
He had longed for them countless times over the past decade, yet had no memory of them.
But in fact, he did have memories. Dumbledore had said that the Mirror of Erised could unearth the deepest memories in one’s heart.
It was a pity that after losing the Mirror of Erised, the memories of them in his mind had subsided again, and even the images he had seen in the mirror had become blurry. He thought he would never remember their likeness again…
“Vaughn…” Harry found his voice shockingly hoarse. He looked at Hermione and asked, “Where did he find it? Dumbledore?”
Hermione shook her head.
The person who provided the photo was someone Harry would never have expected.
Severus Snape!
If Vaughn hadn’t said it himself, even Hermione wouldn’t have guessed.
On the night Voldemort fell 11 years ago, Snape was the first to arrive at the Potter’s old house. It was he who, enduring his grief, collected James and Lily and their belongings.
Hermione couldn’t imagine what that scene was like, nor could she understand those emotions, but undoubtedly, Professor Snape didn’t want anyone to know, so he sent this gift through Vaughn.
The wind grew stronger, swaying the bushes and lawns along the road, blowing into the distance. The photo rustled in the wind.
The diffused city lights flickered on the dancing photo, the smiling eyes of James and Lily ethereal as smoke, seemingly looking at Harry.
Or perhaps drifting with the wind to a distant direction.
Far away at Hogwarts, in the gloomy Slytherin dungeons, Snape, sitting in the shadows, raised his wine glass and stared dazedly.
Then, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, he drained the glass…
………
Even those favored by destiny.
The world does not revolve around them.
For some, Harry Potter’s birthday was a day to celebrate and remember, but for others, the birth of “The Boy Who Lived” was just an ordinary day.
Central London.
WAC Headquarters.
A barrier woven from a combination of Muggle Repelling Charms and Confundus Charms enveloped several nearby buildings, ensuring no Muggle would trespass.
In magical sight, the so-called barrier was merely a transparent film, but it perfectly isolated the inside from the outside.
Outside the film, traffic flowed endlessly; inside the film, the streets were peaceful and serene, with only occasional vortices of wind and the people emerging from them showing a semblance of life.
Nymphadora chewed her gum, patrolling along the barrier with Kingsley.
Not far away, there were a few crackling sounds, and two wizards emerged from the air. Nymphadora heard their complaints.
“Didn’t they say the meeting was in Muggle territory? Why put up a barrier? I spent half the day picking out Muggle-style clothes.”
The complaining wizard tugged at the Scottish kilt he was wearing, and as if to match the plaid pattern on the skirt, he had also put on a Mexican-style tunic over it.
His companion was no less extravagant, wearing a tweed coat on top and bell-bottom pants on the bottom. The rustic style combined with 20-year-old trends made one dizzy.
However, the two old wizards clearly didn’t think their attire was problematic. After a few complaints, they tried to break through the barrier and go among the Muggle crowd – they had spent a long time choosing clothes to blend in with Muggles, and their efforts shouldn’t be wasted, right?
Nymphadora sighed powerlessly, but still had to step forward with Kingsley to stop them.
This was the real reason for their presence tonight.
Not because they were worried about Muggles stumbling in, but because they were worried that wizards attending the meeting tonight might cause any magical leakage accidents!
After finally persuading the two old wizards to leave and pointing them towards the venue.
Nymphadora grumbled, “Doesn’t the wizarding world pay any attention to Muggle society? They’d look more reasonable wearing their robes than those bizarre outfits.”
“That’s the current situation, the Statute of Secrecy has completely separated the two societies,” Kingsley shrugged. “Many wizards may never have encountered Muggles in their lives, and all their knowledge about Muggles comes from hearsay.”
“Hah!”
Nymphadora, who came from a half-blood family, didn’t understand this. Still an Auror trainee, she could only grumble.
The two continued their patrol, encountering several other patrols along the way, and persuaded back an old wizard wearing only boxer shorts who insisted that he always dressed like that when traveling to France.
The two finally completed their patrol and returned to their starting point, the WAC headquarters building.
Unlike the quietness elsewhere, this place was bustling with noise.
Wizards of all descriptions were entering and exiting the grand hall on the first floor of the building. Nymphadora saw Vaughn Weasley, who was responsible for greeting guests with Dumbledore.
Looking at the 12-year-old from afar, interacting with various people with mature and practiced ease, the socially anxious Nymphadora was envious.
“Kingsley, the newspapers say there’s no suspense about Vaughn being elected the first President of the WAC, is that right?”
“Yes,” Kingsley nodded. He was very supportive of his old friend’s son and explained: “The werewolves will definitely vote for him, they have no other choice. Dumbledore’s influence in the Wizengamot is very strong, and coupled with Vaughn Weasley’s several confrontations with Fudge, the Wizengamot is now very satisfied with him and won’t cause trouble.”
“The International Confederation’s attitude is more ambiguous. I heard Babajide Ajinbad attended a banquet at Malfoy Manor yesterday.”
He concluded: “But the Confederation won’t intervene this time. Half of the committee seats are held by werewolves, and the Wizengamot occupies half of the other half. Vaughn has too much of an advantage. As long as Ajinbad isn’t brainless, he absolutely won’t make a move – not only would it not hurt Vaughn, but it would also be self-humiliating.”
