Chapter 161: Value, Defection, And First-year Students
Such a statement also represented the only hope for Umbridge to have the Transfiguration Spell removed, which was to wait.
Hope Kingsley wouldn’t jump with impatience upon receiving this answer.
Lupin left with the reply, while Vaughn continued to sort through his experiment notes from the beginning of the year.
He didn’t even give Umbridge’s situation a second thought.
Just an ignorant fool!
“The werewolf virus is divided into two main parts. One part is the curse, which is the fundamental reason for lycanthropic transformation. The wizard who created this virus back then cleverly combined the power of the curse, a person’s spirit, and the full moon into a mystical ritual.”
“The transformation is the final result of the ritual, but the curse’s power doesn’t stop there. It also provides part of the energy for the transformed werewolf to maintain its resilience and agility beyond human limits. At the same time, it’s also the key to activating the other aspect of the werewolf virus – the proliferation and infectious capability of the virus carrier!”
“…How did he manage to do that?”
Looking at the notes from a few months ago, Vaughn pondered.
Of course, no answers would be found this way.
Vaughn quickly suppressed his doubts, tidied up various implements, and hastily finished his meal.
With a snap of his fingers, everything floated up and circled around him.
The suitcase opened automatically, and he stepped inside.
The suitcase’s tiny 18-inch opening concealed a world within.
Stepping through the opened suitcase, the texture underfoot was that of wooden stairs. As he descended, the luxurious suite gradually disappeared from view, and another vista of a bright grassland came into sight.
Simulated sunlight illuminated the space from directly above, releasing light and warmth. wisps of clouds drifted, and a breeze, from no discernible direction, swept across the plains. In the distance, a pond shimmered.
The view extended across the vast plain until, at approximately one mile’s end, the “horizon” abruptly curved upwards and flipped over.
“Mountain Peaks” rose one after another, with waterfalls cascading down their sides, lush greenery, and clouds and mist swirling around.
Vaughn squinted to admire the scene for a moment before turning back. Behind him was the ladder connecting to the outside world, standing beside a thick oak tree whose dense shade drooped down. Through the swaying leaves and branches, a treehouse could be vaguely seen hidden within.
That was once Newt’s dwelling in this space, but Vaughn had not utilized it.
Beyond the shade of the tree, more than twenty iron cages were arranged on the grassland.
Vaughn walked over with the items floating around him. Inside each iron cage was a disheveled person, their wands broken, their hands and feet bound by heavy shackles and chains, forced to huddle in the cramped space.
Hearing footsteps, the previously dead silence suddenly became active.
Clang!
Chains dragged, and the people crawled up.
The next moment brought roars, curses, howls, and weeping…
Like a demonic dance!
“Silence!”
Glancing at them indifferently, Vaughn snapped his fingers, and the Silencing Spell descended around him, covering all noise.
The entire world seemed to turn into a silent play. The werewolves in the cages cursed wildly, pounding and slamming against the bars, but the magic had stripped them of their right to make a sound.
“Finally quiet,”
Vaughn, the only one with the right to speak, murmured to himself and ignored them, beginning his true work.
Setting up the “laboratory”!
Several experiment benches, chairs, and shelves, which had been shrunken and were floating around Vaughn, automatically descended and arranged themselves as the magic was released.
Next came various magically modified instruments.
A microscope, culture dishes, incubators with different functions. Vaughn had also brought in a generator. Its interior and wiring had been modified by the Twins with a new formula of mithril mercury, increasing its resistance to magical field interference enough to support Vaughn’s electricity needs for this period—
He needed Muggle equipment to separate and observe the werewolf virus. Regardless of how miraculous the curse was that dominated it, some changes would invariably rely on the virus carrier to be accomplished.
Such as its infectivity!
While Vaughn was busy, in the area with the iron cages, Matthew woke up groggily.
It was still the same low, false sky he had seen before falling asleep.
Matthew moved his numb hands and feet, feeling a wave of pain. The heavy chains and shackles had already chafed his skin, and blood seeped from the wounds.
He didn’t bother with it, nor could he treat it.
Having lost his wand, and to prevent him from casting spells without one, the WAC had also force-fed him many potions. While the potions couldn’t restrict his magic, they could suppress his spirit. For a wizard, being unable to mobilize emotions was as terrifying as having no magic.
Now, Matthew felt a coldness in his head, with only enough remaining emotion to sustain his normal thought processes.
This was perhaps the price of having stronger abilities!
He thought wryly. The fools beside him, whose minds had already gone, hadn’t been given potions by the WAC and were constantly shouting at the top of their lungs, causing endless noise.
Huh?
Matthew suddenly sensed something abnormal. Why was it so quiet all around?
He looked up, and the bizarre scene of people in the surrounding iron cages, their faces contorted with rage as they roared and beat their cages, yet without a single sound, met his eyes.
Matthew blinked, then saw the figure of a busy young man not far away.
“Vaughn Weasley…”
Matthew recognized him. Greyback had once shown him a photo of this young wizard, making sure he remembered it well. He had also seen the other person in the Daily Prophet more than once.
Wolfsbane Potion, WAC…
The other person’s name and photo always appeared alongside those two terms, gradually etching themselves into Matthew’s mind, deeply remembered!
Then, a ripple stirred within him.
Before being transferred to this space, the werewolf who had captured him, named Remus Lupin, had given him a newspaper that carried news about the WAC conference.
That was the first time Matthew clearly sensed his inner turmoil.
“Let werewolves walk in the sun!”
The words in the report were like a brand seared into his memory, appearing before his eyes at all times, making him toss and turn, restless.
As his thoughts churned, on the other side, Vaughn Weasley had also finished setting up his equipment and walked to the area where the iron cages were placed, his gaze sweeping over each werewolf.
Matthew knew what the other person was going to do.
After he was captured, a short, plump fellow who looked quite lecherous had once gloated and called them white mice.
During his graduation trip, Matthew had spent some time in Muggle society and learned about some Muggle knowledge, understanding what white mice meant.
He also knew the ultimate fate of white mice!
He let out a breath and lay down calmly in his cage, no longer looking at Vaughn Weasley, who was walking past each iron cage as if inspecting goods.
He continued to gaze into the distance, lost in thought.
Until a certain moment, the wind blowing towards him suddenly regained its sound. Matthew looked up, and Vaughn Weasley was standing before him. He glanced at the other werewolves nearby, who were still acting out a silent play, then looked at Vaughn:
“Something you need?”
Vaughn observed the lean, middle-aged man in the cage before him with interest. His tangled, messy long hair resembled a mop. He removed the Silencing Spell from him and asked, “Why aren’t you making noise?”
“…”
The other person did not reply.
Vaughn shrugged it off. “What’s your name?”
“Matthew.”
“Surname?”
“…I don’t have a surname…”
Matthew said numbly.
His words were fragmented, but Vaughn already understood the reason. Among werewolves, the absence of a surname often indicated a despairing story—
During their first transformation, they had killed their own families, and out of remorse, avoidance, or other reasons, they abandoned their surnames or names.
Young Barnaby was like that!
Many others among the werewolves were in similar situations.
“Your behavior is different from the others,” Vaughn said with a smile. Under the bright sunlight simulated by the sun, his red hair was as vibrant as fire, and his smile was as gentle as light.
Matthew’s pupils trembled, and he immediately closed his eyes, not wanting to speak further.
Vaughn did not cast the Silencing Spell on Matthew again.
In the time that followed, the two did not communicate further. After surveying the “white mice,” Vaughn specifically chose one who was relatively weak and quite frantic as the first lucky recipient.
Soon, the werewolves who were silently screaming, including the withdrawn Matthew, witnessed a horrifying scene—
The chosen werewolf floated entirely in the air. With each wave of Vaughn Weasley’s wand, one of his bodily components was “drawn” out.
It began with the skin.
The epidermis detached from the werewolf’s body like a semi-transparent film.
Then came the dermis, which was tender like flesh but possessed a textured, net-like structure.
Vaughn Weasley’s superb magic ensured that even after being stripped away, the tissues did not sustain damage such as bleeding.
Transfiguration magic altered the properties of sweat glands, arteries and capillaries, tactile corpuscles, nerve fibers, and other tissues, allowing them to stretch like rubber bands with great “elasticity.”
The same steps and magic were applied to the subsequent separation of loose connective tissue, dense connective tissue, muscles, and periosteum.
Thus, the werewolf watched almost alive as he was dismembered without a drop of blood.
A living person was reduced to layer after layer of thin, strangely shaped tissue, floating in the air…
And he was still alive!
This scene also terrified the werewolves.
Lacking dense connective tissue, the werewolf, with only bones remaining, couldn’t even move. Only the transformed, still-connected nerves and blood vessels twitched, stimulated by the surrounding air.
Everyone could see his pain and despair in his eyes!
But Vaughn Weasley, the perpetrator of all this, was unconcerned. After completing the preliminary “dissection” steps, he finally began his series of experiments.
In the distance, Matthew withdrew his gaze.
He silently surveyed his surroundings. The individuals in the surrounding cages, who had been struggling moments before, were now still. They stared intently at Vaughn Weasley and his experiments.
In those eyes, which in the past held only coldness and madness, fear gradually began to appear.
“Heh…”
Letting out a laugh whose meaning he himself didn’t understand, Matthew curled up again, his closed eyelids replaying the scene he had just witnessed, his past experiences following Greyback, and, from a long, long time ago, his memories of being a carefree Hogwarts student.
Amidst his chaotic thoughts, he drifted into a deep sleep.
…
Time’s passage could not be accurately felt within the suitcase’s space.
It could only be judged by the daily meals.
For approximately 2-3 days thereafter, the daily routine in this space consistently featured a similar “program”—Vaughn Weasley would “dissect” a werewolf roughly every half day.
Of course, he used magic and potions to protect their lives as much as possible.
But no one considered this to be an act of kindness.
Matthew and the other werewolves noticed that after completely dissociating a werewolf, Vaughn Weasley would then conduct various experiments on the separated bodily tissues.
Sometimes he would cast spells.
Sometimes he would apply potions.
Or a combination of both.
He was like a patient barbecue chef, meticulously applying “sauces” in the form of potions to every tissue, with different ingredients for different types of tissue.
Once everything was completed, he would “reassemble” the stripped tissues, then place the werewolf into a specially made culture tank, using the potions within to sustain their lives!
After a few days, the other werewolves who had not yet been chosen were terrified.
They had pleaded, cursed, struggled, and wept… but Vaughn Weasley was like an emotionless Muggle machine, meticulously carrying out his experimental preparations.
None of these actions could shake his resolve.
Only Matthew showed no unusual reaction. Vaughn was rather curious about him, and after dealing with each werewolf, he would come over to talk to him for a few minutes.
At those times, Matthew would also chat with him.
The scope of their conversations was unrestricted; they talked about whatever came to mind. For instance, yesterday, Matthew asked where they were, and Vaughn said they were on a ship, preparing to visit America.
“America…” The name made Matthew a little absent-minded. “I’ve always wanted to see that place… My graduation trip’s last stop was planned to be America.”
“Unfortunately, your luck wasn’t good. You encountered Greyback at the first stop in Ireland.”
Vaughn shrugged.
This was something Matthew had told him himself.
Matthew’s mind went blank for a moment, then he became withdrawn again.
This was not the first time this had happened; Matthew would often fall into a daze or stare blankly, which usually marked the end of their conversations.
Other than that, in Vaughn’s opinion, Matthew was a decent conversational partner.
One day, after the preparatory work for another experiment was completed, and the reassembled “lucky recipient” was placed into the culture tank, Vaughn walked over and sat down in front of Matthew.
Before he could speak, Matthew proactively asked, “Where has the ship reached?”
“Iceland.”
“Haven’t you gone ashore to look around? I heard the scenery is quite nice.”
“That would require going deep inland. I’ll talk about it if there’s time later.”
“I heard you say last time that the WAC is eager to expand its reputation, but this ship has passed through several Nordic countries. Why don’t you contact them?”
Matthew’s tangled hair fell over his forehead, so Vaughn couldn’t see his expression, but he could discern a hint of curiosity from his flat tone.
This piqued Vaughn’s interest, so he replied, “Because they have no value.”
“What kind of value?”
“No value at all!” Vaughn said. “Population, wizards, international influence… Those countries, like Iceland, have ice and snow for population, and ice and snow for wizards. Their magical forces haven’t developed, werewolves are unwilling to go there, and even the International Confederation doesn’t bother with them. Visiting would only be a waste of time.”
“That’s true…”
Matthew began to stare blankly again.
But this time, his absentmindedness didn’t last long. Just as Vaughn was about to end today’s conversation, he heard Matthew speak again, “Are the things you said in the newspaper true?”
Vaughn looked at him curiously. “What things?”
“Let werewolves walk in the sun!”
“Of course!”
“Whoosh—”
Matthew took a deep breath and said softly, “You are a proud person. I believe you will do what you say…”
Vaughn guessed what was on his mind, a smile creeping onto his lips. He sat down again and asked directly, “Are you asking because you’re planning to join me?”
“Yes!”
Vaughn became even more interested, “Why?”
Yes, why indeed?
Behind the messy long hair, Matthew’s eyes were lost for a moment. He clearly wasn’t saying this and making this decision out of fear of death.
The real Matthew had died long ago, on the morning he woke up after his first transformation in 20 years. The current him was merely a walking corpse, a shell whose soul had sunk to hell.
He thought he would never be able to climb out of the abyss Greyback had created for him in this life.
Until…
A faint spark flickered in Matthew’s eyes. He looked up at Vaughn and said, “You mentioned value earlier… I want to find my value with you…”
Matthew felt himself sinking.
Around him was endless darkness, without boundaries.
His head was heavy and his hazy consciousness was like being in a dream, yet his senses felt as though they were still in reality.
At one moment, he “fell” out of the darkness. He saw himself standing in a village—yes, he saw himself.
Himself, transformed into a werewolf.
“He” ran frantically on the village’s stone-paved road, passing through one dark house after another, heading towards the only lit hut at the other end of the village.
Overhead, the full moon was bright!
Staring at the hut, Matthew’s eyes widened. It was a place he remembered very well, a place that had accompanied him throughout his childhood!
No!
Don’t!
He anxiously, fearfully extended his hand, wanting to stop the “him” who had become a werewolf, but the “him” who had already become a beast did not hesitate. Against the backdrop of the full moon, he leaped high and rushed into the hut.
Blood splattered on the window frame.
Intense pain immediately engulfed him. Matthew opened his mouth, but could not utter a sound.
Then, the village “shattered” before his eyes like a cracked mirror.
Darkness enveloped him again.
Before the pain in his heart could subside, his perspective shifted to another scene.
Matthew’s hazy consciousness was somewhat dazed—he was not in the real world, but in his own memories, and someone was flipping through his memories!
Enough!
Stop looking!
Awakened, he wanted to shout, but the person who had invaded his mind world clearly didn’t care about his inner thoughts. The newly appearing scenes, like Muggle movies, repeated his experiences according to a predetermined linear narrative.
That was 20 years ago, when he had just turned into a werewolf and hadn’t yet fallen into complete despair!
At that time, he had still tried to resist Greyback. He had gone to London, wanting to find the Ministry of Magic to help him.
But all the world gave him was despair!
“Sign the bill, sign it and we can help you!”
“You’re just a damn beast, a filthy animal. Your only choice is to sign the bill and then obediently go to your designated area. Greyback? Ha! A good excuse. If I kill my family one day, I can say the same thing. Greyback can’t testify in court anyway… Ah—my eyes!”
“Catch him, he’s going that way!”
Then came the fight.
An endless fight.
Many powerful Aurors were involved, including the famous Alastor Moody. No one wanted to listen to his explanations… The case was very clear and straightforward: the victim was a staff member of the Werewolf Control Office, and the killer was a werewolf.
It was reasonable and logical!
Matthew, who had fled all night, was severely injured. It was only when he burrowed into the mud of a sewer that he escaped.
Then came wandering, exposure of his identity, and continued flight…
The reawakened memories and pain made Matthew’s mind hazy again.
He listlessly watched his past “life” like a fast-forwarded movie, seeing himself on the verge of death from severe injuries, himself groveling for a bite of food, himself being chased like a dog.
And finally, by the Thames, he, like a walking corpse, knelt at Greyback’s feet…
Greyback had succeeded. He had used the reality of his experiences and his own hatred for him to create a warped, walking dead person.
But Greyback had also failed, because his method was truly effective only when reality was indeed desperate.
Matthew’s eyes finally regained clarity. He looked up at the sky above, which in this illusory space had an indescribable color, only feeling its immense depth, and softly said:
“Is it you? Vaughn Weasley?”
With this murmur, Matthew felt himself suddenly sink.
London, the village… all scenes quickly receded from him.
When he regained consciousness again, he opened his eyes and saw the familiar iron cage before him. Outside the cage, the red-haired boy smiled at him, his originally brown, slightly golden eyes emitting a faint, shimmering blue light.
It was him indeed!
Matthew was somewhat surprised. He tried hard to recall, to know when Vaughn Weasley had invaded his mind.
But there was no answer.
“This is his strength…”
Matthew fell silent, looking deeply at Vaughn.
But he decided not to dwell on it any longer. He struggled to his feet in the small cage and knelt before the red-haired boy, lowering his head, just as he had knelt at Greyback’s feet long ago:
“As you can see, I wish to find the meaning of my survival, the value of my life… Please allow me to follow you!”
Matthew said with a tremble.
The potion he had drunk some time ago to suppress his emotions was now almost useless.
He could feel the hope and fear in his heart as he spoke these words.
That hope and fear were so complex, not only fearing Vaughn’s refusal but also dreading the possibility that the only hope he had found so far would be dashed again!
Amidst his chaotic thoughts, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Vaughn extended one hand.
It landed on his messy hair.
He heard the other person say:
“Alright!”
“…”
A simple response, but for some reason, Matthew suddenly had a strong urge, his thin body trembling violently.
It was joy and pain clashing with his reason.
A hot tear rolled down his eye. Matthew’s already blurred vision watched it fall, pass through the bars of the iron cage, and land on the grass, shattering into countless sparkling fragments.
This was the first time he had cried in 20 years…
…
“Remus, Kingsley Shacklebolt came looking for me again. He seemed under a lot of pressure from the Aurors. I heard that this morning, due to negligence by the guards, Umbridge escaped from her room and was almost killed by a Muggle—it was too cruel, she sprayed a whole bottle of insecticide on Umbridge!”
As Remus came out of the kitchen with a tray, Oliver Wood rushed up to him, who had been waiting at the door, and said.
Remus did not look aside: “So, did Umbridge die?”
“Oh, no, the Aurors saved her with a potion they had on them.”
“If she didn’t die, then there’s no problem. Letting her escape was the Aurors’ responsibility, what does it have to do with us?”
“Of course, we can think that way, but the Aurors don’t accept it. In their view, if Umbridge hadn’t been turned into a toad, this wouldn’t have happened… I must say, the situation is indeed a bit dire. She’s been transformed for days, and Umbridge has likely forgotten she’s human!”
Glancing at Oliver, Remus said nothing more.
He had never really liked this guy, or rather, he wasn’t fond of any of the Pure-blood families who had defected to Vaughn.
These people only acted when there was something to gain. Today, they could defect to Vaughn and the WAC because of their power, and tomorrow they could bet on someone else.
There was no trust whatsoever.
But he also understood.
Vaughn understood this principle as well. He had once heard Vaughn say something: Politics is about making as many friends as possible and as few enemies as possible.
It was said to be a famous quote from a Muggle, quite insightful!
So when Oliver Wood showed signs of approaching, Vaughn immediately accepted him.
Remus knew that Vaughn was disintegrating the Pure-blood families, and Oliver Wood’s acceptance would serve as a very clear signal.
This signal was that Vaughn Weasley did not reject Pure-bloods!
As the cruise ship set sail, this news should have already reached England and caused quite a stir!
Yes, although the cruise ship had sailed smoothly these days, and life on board seemed bland, in reality, countless people were watching this ship.
England, America.
Even countries in Central and Southern Europe.
After the first WAC conference concluded, the policies proposed by Vaughn were disseminated and began to be implemented. Its existence would inevitably affect the surrounding, and even global, situation.
Everyone who was paying attention wanted to see what kind of results the first foreign visit after the establishment of the WAC would achieve.
Of course, more people wanted to see what kind of reaction America would have!
Oliver didn’t mind Remus’s lack of response and continued: “And from the Federation’s side, dear Mr. Ajinbad, after pretending we don’t exist for three days, invited Mr. Weasley to a banquet hosted by the Federation tomorrow…”
“What banquet?”
“Oh, in two more days we’ll arrive on the American continent, and they’re preparing to hold a banquet to celebrate a safe voyage,” Oliver replied with a smile.
Remus curled his lips. Babajide Ajinbad had no good intentions.
The pretext for the banquet was subtly hinting at Vaughn and the WAC, covertly accusing them of “deterring” America by endangering the lives of the Muggles and the Federation’s delegation on board!
“The President is currently at a critical stage in his research. He instructed me not to disturb him with anything.”
He refused.
“Alright, research is most important.” Oliver shrugged, then suggested: “But since they’ve invited us, we should at least give a positive response. How about the two of us attending?”
“…You decide!”
“Ha, then I’ll reply to them like that. You get back to work, Remus!”
Oliver Wood left with excitement.
It seemed he had been waiting here just to get this answer.
Remus shook his head. It wasn’t “seemed”; that guy had indeed planned it that way. Ever since being accepted by Vaughn, he had actively participated in WAC affairs, often no longer satisfied with his status as an “Executive Committee Member.”
Remus felt some anxiety!
Was Vaughn’s acceptance of Pure-bloods truly the right decision?
Lost in thought, he arrived at Vaughn’s door and knocked politely before entering with the tray.
The suite was, naturally, empty, except for an open suitcase placed on a desk set up by the window.
Normally, Remus would just leave the food on the counter and leave, but today was different. As soon as he put down the tray, he heard Vaughn’s voice coming from inside the suitcase:
“Remus, come down!”
“Uh, alright.”
Picking up the tray again, Remus stepped through the entrance of the suitcase. This wasn’t his first time here, but the wondrous scenery inside the box still left him somewhat dazed.
It would have been better if there hadn’t been that terrifying scene ahead—
A werewolf was suspended in mid-air, almost stripped bare to the bone. Various body tissues, piece by piece, were radiating outwards like ribbons.
The bones were similar. They had been “cut” into pieces by a peculiar magic, and the exposed marrow had a tender red hue.
Vaughn wore a pair of glasses, which seemed to have a magnifying effect, allowing him to precisely manipulate a quill and dragon blood ink, painting something on each piece of bone.
Nearby, there were many automatically operating beakers, vessels, brushes, and so on. The vessels were filled with potions, and after the brushes were saturated with the potions, they began to be applied to the floating body tissues.
Noticing Remus’s entry, Vaughn, still engrossed in his painting, instructed, “Dear Remus, take Mr. Matthew out to wash up and rest!”
Only then did Remus notice.
Below the floating, “dissected” werewolf stood a disheveled middle-aged wizard.
The man looked up at the werewolf’s head, which was the only part remaining, its skull even dismantled, with tender brain matter trembling in the wind, wondering what he was thinking.
Remus of course still remembered Matthew.
This was an illegal werewolf he had personally apprehended, and someone he felt was a pity. He hadn’t expected…
“Mr. President, he…”
“From today onwards, he is a member of the WAC,” Vaughn said, stopping his pen and observing the patterns he had drawn. “The upcoming experiments are not suitable for him to stay here. You can live with him for these few days, alright?”
