Chapter 171: Weak, Therefore Guilty!
“I didn’t expect to see such a rare sight as soon as we arrived. Is this your president’s hobby? Making protected magical creatures fight each other?”
He asked with a smile, his tone as if chatting about everyday matters, yet the content was subtly aggressive.
“It’s research!” Lupin corrected. “The president is researching a new Wolfsbane Potion. Also, I must remind you that these fire drakes were purchased through legal channels with all the proper paperwork. If you need to see it, I can show it to you.”
The middle-aged wizard nodded noncommittally. “Please do. The more detailed, the better.”
“…”
As they spoke, a few more people descended. There were staff from the Magical Congress, committee members from the WAC delegation, and even a representative from the Federation was among them at the end.
The middle-aged wizard glanced at that representative, lost in thought.
At this point, the fight between the two fire drakes in mid-air was also nearing its end. Just as the middle-aged wizard had predicted, the Ridgeback was defeated!
The Ridgeback is a relatively “all-around” evolved fire drake. Its massive skeleton gives it one of the largest body sizes among fire drakes, and the spines on its back offer a variety of attack methods. Its teeth and claws are also venomous.
However, among creatures, “all-around” usually means lacking outstanding strengths. The Ridgeback, despite its skeletal frame, has little muscle, resembling a mere skeleton. It is no match for large fire drakes in terms of power.
The deterrence of its spines is greater than its practical combat utility, and its venom is far inferior to that of a Poison Fang Dragon.
Facing the Tree Bee, which has sharp spines all over its body and a very powerful fire-breathing ability, the Ridgeback had no advantages.
In the end, its throat was torn open by the Tree Bee’s club-like tail. A large amount of blood gushed out. Severely wounded, the Ridgeback fell powerlessly!
As the battle concluded, the severely injured Ridgeback crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. The victorious Tree Bee, also covered in wounds, descended, panting.
Lupin gestured for everyone behind him to follow. “Please, come with me.”
Staring at the groaning Ridgeback lying on the ground, and the blood-soaked, ferocious-looking Tree Bee beside it, the wizards exchanged bewildered glances.
A witch from the Magical Congress hesitantly said, “Perhaps you could have Mr. Vaughn Weasley come over for registration?”
Upon hearing this, the wizard from the Federation at the rear of the group rolled his eyes.
Lupin frowned, looking sternly at the witch. “Madam, Mr. Vaughn Weasley is the president of the WAC, representing all werewolves, committee members, and executive committee members of the WAC. We are willing to comply with American regulations and register our wands and personal magical items because we respect your side, and we hope you can reciprocate with equal respect!”
His words were quite blunt, and the witch flushed.
It was unclear whether it was from shame or embarrassment.
However, no one paid attention to her thoughts anymore. All eyes were fixed on the distance – waves of magical fluctuations were clearly and unmistakably transmitting from Vaughn Weasley’s location.
The invisible pressure made everyone feel as if they were underwater, the air so heavy it was almost suffocating.
Then, the severely injured Ridgeback floated into the air. Along with it, many devices of unknown purpose also began to float.
Buzz—
Buzz—
A resonance could be heard in their ears as magic continuously gathered and compressed the air at high speed.
Simultaneously, everyone saw, faintly, a magical halo begin to shimmer, centered on the fire drake.
It was an indescribable light, like lightning, and yet like flame.
If there were any Muggles present, they would have immediately recognized the mesmerizing geometric beauty of the residual patterns of light, as if a paintbrush were drawing a framework in the air that discarded all material forms except for spatial relationships.
The frequency of the light intensified.
The residual light trails in their vision thus “connected,” and a strange pattern vaguely appeared before everyone’s eyes.
But bizarrely, no one could accurately describe its appearance. It seemed everyone, from every angle, could only see one facet of it, and not the whole.
The crowd simply watched as the light grew brighter.
At one moment, it suddenly exploded!
Like a blooming firework.
Simultaneously “exploding” was the fire drake itself. Its scales, skin, fascia, bones… This colossal beast, which had been fighting its own kind just moments before, was instantly decomposed layer by layer, from the outside in.
What was even more horrifying was that it was still alive!
Its exposed blood vessels, resembling threads, nerve clusters, and membranous internal organs, were still wriggling.
It was still emitting a piercing howl.
Moreover, the magic in the air had not ended. As the fire drake decomposed, the numerous floating devices automatically moved closer. For a moment, the dense structures floating in the air, resulting from the fire drake’s decomposition, resembled an automated factory, with each device busily and efficiently processing.
“…What is this?”
Among the staff of the Magical Congress, someone moaned.
Everything before him was completely beyond his scope of understanding. He couldn’t even grasp what it was for!
“This is the president’s latest research achievement, the living organism detection method,” Lupin said with a complex tone, tinged with reserved pride. “It can probe the physiological mysteries of a life form down to the cellular level while ensuring the organism’s survival.”
The staff of the Magical Congress experienced a small WAC shock!
Magic they didn’t understand.
Devices with unclear purposes.
Terminology they couldn’t comprehend.
All of this made them suddenly feel a sense of reverence for their objective today – Vaughn Weasley, a young wizard only 12 years old.
To the extent that when Lupin brought them to Vaughn and indicated they could begin their work, they looked at Vaughn, who was surrounded by floating quills and notebooks, constantly recording and checking various data, and didn’t know how to proceed.
Their leader, the official from the Magical Congress, gave instructions: “Go register those werewolves and fire drakes. Scrutinize all paperwork meticulously, leaving no room for error. Leave magical markers on the living ones according to regulations. As for Mr. Vaughn Weasley’s wand registration, I will handle that myself!”
After giving instructions, he walked up to Vaughn.
He smiled as if in casual conversation and said, “Hello, Mr. Vaughn Weasley. It’s our first meeting, and you’ve truly left a deep impression on me… Oh, allow me to introduce myself, I am Michael Graves, Director of Magical Security. You can call me Michael.”
Upon hearing his introduction, Vaughn, who had been immersed in various information, finally spoke:
“Who is Percival Graves to you?”
Not far away, a few Magical Congress staff members who heard the name exchanged glances.
Within the Congress, no one dared mention that name in front of a member of the Graves family, for it represented disgrace!
Approximately 60 years ago, Percival Graves, then Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was controlled by Gellert Grindelwald.
Grindelwald disguised himself as Percival and infiltrated the Magical Congress, orchestrating a series of events that nearly led to widespread exposure of magic and caused immense casualties within the entire Magical Congress.
After the incident, while people condemned the perpetrator Grindelwald, they did not spare Percival Graves, as he had failed to fulfill his duties as the head of security at the time!
The Graves family was deeply ashamed, believing Percival had tarnished the family’s honor.
Vaughn, of course, understood this, but he still asked.
Besides his own curiosity about the subsequent fate of the unfortunate Percival Graves, it was also because he knew that he and the American pure-bloods would not become friends.
He also knew that Michael Graves would not be angry—
What was there to be angry about when facing a provocation from an adversary?
As expected, Michael Graves smiled and said unhurriedly, “He is my great-uncle. A pitiable man, subdued and impersonated by Grindelwald, which enhanced Grindelwald’s reputation and also contributed to the career of your country’s magizoologist, Newt Scamander. Everyone gained something, except for him, the victim, who was hung on the pillar of shame and died in melancholy.”
“Tell me, what is the logic behind that?”
“This reminds me of an example from Muggle society,” Vaughn said, his hands still working as the instruments hovering above his head hummed. In his eyes, a waterfall of information continuously streamed down. “A girl was insulted by a man on her way home at night. The girl bravely chose to report it, thinking she could seek justice for herself. But to her confusion, after the news broke, people blamed her: Why did you walk home at night? Why were you dressed so provocatively?”
Michael Graves’s expression was surprised. “Such a thing happened? Where?”
“Right here in America. You seem puzzled?”
“Forgive me, this may sound arrogant, but – yes!” Michael Graves smiled gently. “I thought the foolish mudbloods could understand the law of the jungle? Please forgive me, I can’t imagine it.”
Beside the two, Lupin, who had been standing silently in attendance, couldn’t help but widen his eyes at these words.
He stared at Graves in astonishment.
He probably hadn’t expected that this seemingly refined gentleman would express such blatant discrimination.
He couldn’t help but look back at Vaughn, only to find that their president showed no surprise.
Vaughn didn’t even stop his magic. While observing and recording the information flowing past him and adjusting the equipment, he said as if in a casual chat, “Do you believe that Percival Graves, or that Muggle girl, were criticized as victims because they were weak, and therefore guilty?”
“Of course, we shouldn’t approach problems from a single perspective; we can also look at it from another angle. If my great-uncle had been powerful enough to subdue Grindelwald, wouldn’t the subsequent events have been avoided? And that… Muggle girl… such an uncomfortable use of words… If she had been powerful enough to subdue her assailant instead, then the subsequent events would not have occurred either.”
Michael Graves shrugged. “In general, their misfortunes and suffering stemmed from their incompetence, from their weakness, and therefore it was justifiable!”
This…
Lupin was dumbfounded. He simply couldn’t comprehend such a worldview.
He looked at the busy Magical Congress staff around him and noticed that they showed no unusual reaction to Graves’s words. And unlike Vaughn’s indifference, their behavior was one of accustomed familiarity!
Was this the mindset of American pure-bloods?
He suddenly understood why their president had displayed such an unfriendly demeanor from the outset upon meeting the head of security of the Magical Congress –
If their worldviews were so different, what was there to discuss?
Meanwhile, Vaughn and Graves continued their seemingly casual probing and sparring.
“Michael, then in your opinion, am I a weakling or a strong one?”
“It’s hard to say, Mr. Vaughn Weasley. Although you’ve arranged this rather unique meeting and shown me your strength, and I admit your magic is impressive, I must still say you are too arrogant.”
“Oh? I await your profound insights.”
“You flatter me…” Graves chuckled, appearing kind and gentle. “Before I offer my assessment, I must admit that possessing such magical strength at the age of 12 makes you worthy of the title of genius, and also worthy of your lineage.”
“If we were adversaries now, I would certainly not be your match. This might be one of the reasons for your arrogance – you have indeed surpassed most wizards, but it cannot be denied that you have not yet fully matured. Those stronger than you are not a minority in the entire United States of America.”
“At the same time, we are also very aware of your intentions for coming to America this time. The current predicament of the English Ministry of Magic and Minister Cornelius Fudge is a very clear example.”
“However, I must say that you overestimate not only your personal strength but also your own capabilities… It is undeniable that while a few werewolves who can maintain sanity during transformation might not be significant, when that number rises into the hundreds or thousands, they do possess a potential that cannot be overlooked.”
“But the prerequisite for all of this is that you have the opportunity to truly control this nascent force – Mr. Vaughn Weasley, do you think those half-blood bastards and mudblood organizations will give you that opportunity?”
His smile became even more amiable. “You are like a child right now, carrying a large pile of treasures through a bustling market, and around you, in the dark alleys and hidden corners, are fools driven to hatred and madness by our indulgence, coercion, manipulation, and instigation. How would they treat a child carrying gold? Negotiation? Cooperation? Or… robbery?”
Michael Graves’s undisguised words caused Lupin, who was overhearing, to clench his fists.
How could anyone in the world be so arrogant?
Wasn’t this a naked threat?
Lupin let out a huff, suppressing his inner anger.
He looked at his president.
Vaughn looked up at the dispersed structures of various dragons in the sky. The light flickering in his eyes dimmed slightly. He finally turned his head, a wry smile on his face.
“So, Michael, what advice do you have for me, this child carrying a pile of treasures?”
“No, no,” Michael said politely, with a humble demeanor. “It’s not advice. These are just casual chats, discussing my personal views. I have no intention of influencing your decisions. I merely wish to propose a safer possibility that could gain widespread support – for instance, you could publicly release the Wolfsbane Potion recipe to the Magical Congress and hold onto those enticing treasures in a different way!”
“The way you are referring to is the establishment of the North American WAC, completely led by the Magical Congress?”
“This is just one possibility,” Michael Graves emphasized. “Just like in my previous analogy, cooperating with the Magical Congress is somewhat like Muggles choosing to deposit their money in a bank. The wealth and power are still yours; the Magical Congress merely shares a portion of the control and management rights.”
Heh!
Hearing the analogy, Vaughn chuckled. “This so-called possibility, is it your personal analysis, or the idea of Woolworth Building?”
Michael Graves considered for a moment and smiled. “There’s no need to differentiate between them. You can consider it our collective goodwill… Yesterday, our people at the port had the honor of witnessing your apprehension of subversive elements. You demonstrated exquisite Apparition and formidable strength. Both personally and from Woolworth Building… we are very willing to invest in such a pure-blood from the Weasley and Prewett lineage.”
Lupin, standing beside them, clenched his fists tighter and couldn’t help but say, “President…”
His voice cut off abruptly.
Vaughn raised a hand, interrupting him.
He looked at Michael Graves. “If these are your final terms, then I don’t think we have anything more to discuss.”
As for Michael’s implied statement that they had been closely monitoring the delegation since their arrival by cruise ship yesterday, Vaughn wasn’t particularly surprised.
This was Boston, New England District of America, a traditional “blue state,” and the sphere of influence of the Magical Congress.
It was normal for the other party to be well-informed.
Upon hearing Vaughn’s refusal, Michael Graves’s expression remained unchanged, still exuding that suave demeanor. “From a personal standpoint, I advise you to reconsider. After all, regardless of your ultimate intentions – whether you wish to save werewolves with good intentions or expand your own power by establishing the North American branch of the WAC – ultimately, this is the United States of America.”
“The land where you wish your will to prevail belongs to the Magical Congress and the people of the Federation… If the people are dissatisfied, then, however reluctant we may be, we will unfortunately have to choose that regrettable outcome.”
The diplomatic phrasing conveyed a clear threat.
The air became somewhat stagnant for a moment.
Lupin looked angry and anxious, Vaughn remained expressionless, while Michael Graves appeared relaxed and at ease.
He truly couldn’t fathom what the stony-faced Vaughn Weasley was thinking, but in his view, the young wizard had no choice.
Just as his diplomatic language implied, this was America, and anyone or any organization coming here had to abide by its rules!
And those so-called rules were the will of the “Federation people,” or rather, the will of the Magical Congress!
The heavy atmosphere persisted. Vaughn remained silent, and Graves did not seem to mind.
He looked around casually at the cages standing in the distance, where staff were busy with registration.
The werewolves in the cages were in a foul mood, occasional roars could be heard, along with the grating sounds of cages being hit and scratched.
“Werewolves are truly unreasonable beasts,” Graves mused. He then noticed Lupin’s unusual reaction and looked at the wounds on his face, realizing with a start. “So Mr. Lupin is also a werewolf. My apologies, I should have noticed earlier. If my words just now displeased you, I hope you can forgive my offense.”
“…”
Lupin’s face was grim.
Graves continued, “But on the other hand, I must also mention that the Federation’s werewolves might not be as easy to manage as you two anticipate. After all, you two have always stayed in England and are only familiar with England’s political system. Your understanding of the Federation’s politics and situation might be limited.”
As he spoke, the statistics on the other side seemed to have concluded.
A young wizard, appearing to be in his early twenties, walked over. He glanced at Vaughn with curiosity and awe, then reported to Graves:
“Sir, the registration is complete. There are currently 21 werewolves. This number does not match the record submitted by the WAC a week ago; there are 5 missing.”
Hearing this, Graves looked at Vaughn.
When Vaughn brought the werewolves to America, they would naturally be registered. This brought to light the awkward situation of werewolves being heavily discriminated against – all countries, including England, had never reached a consensus on the classification of werewolves. They were neither human nor magical creatures, and not even considered “goods” for trade （ as they had no usable materials ）.
Due to the lack of precise classification, werewolves were designated as “dangerous items” in the United States of America. This was not prohibited, but ownerless “dangerous items” could be destroyed at will. For “dangerous items” with owners, the owner had to ensure strict supervision.
Otherwise, the owner would be held responsible for any losses caused by the “item”!
Therefore, facing Graves’s questioning gaze, Vaughn calmly replied, “4 were consumed in experiments, and 1 was willing to defect and join the WAC… Remus, take them to mark Matthew later.”
“Yes, President.”
Seeing Vaughn’s cooperation, Michael Graves nodded and motioned for the young wizard to continue.
“Next are the fire drakes. Over there… we found 4 residual fire drake corpses, they are…”
The young wizard reported the species of the fire drakes, then subconsciously glanced upwards at the enormous, bizarrely shaped object shrouded in powerful magic in the air, which had completely lost its original form:
“…The surviving fire drakes are only the Norwegian Ridgeback and that Tree Bee, consistent with the transaction documents previously submitted by Mr. Remus Lupin.”
Having said that, he handed a document to Michael Graves.
Graves casually flipped through it and noticed one item: “Mr. Weasley, you are still expecting to receive 4 more fire drakes?”
“Yes, for research purposes. Are there any problems?”
“No problems,” Graves closed the document, smiling amiably. “The Magical Congress will protect the freedom of all friendly individuals within the Federation, including your freedom to conduct research.”
Friendly, freedom…
Vaughn chuckled silently. The subtext of the other party was clear: if they were to become unfriendly, the current so-called freedom would become grounds for charges!
He saw no point in saying anything. Seeing that the other party had no objections to the presence of the werewolves and fire drakes, he handed over his wand.
“Oh—an Elderwood wand. Quite a rare wand wood material, very…” Before he could finish speaking, the smiling expression on Graves’s face froze.
He watched as the Elderwood wand in his hand shook violently, almost slipping from his grasp.
Graves knew clearly that it was the wand’s internal spirituality resisting him!
“…very unruly and impressive.”
He pursed his lips and gave Vaughn a deep look. Since inheriting the position of Director of Magical Security, he had almost forgotten how many wands belonging to powerful wizards he had inspected.
However, such spontaneous resistance from a wand was extremely rare in his 30-year career, something he had encountered only a handful of times.
This usually indicated that the wand highly identified with its owner. Wandmakers would babble about such things as the wand’s bond with its owner’s personality, but Michael Graves knew that a wand was merely a tool for casting spells; it had no emotions, no intelligence, and no consciousness.
Its “identification” was, in fact, obedience to “power,” meaning its owner’s spirituality far surpassed that of the provider of its materials and the person who crafted it!
Many thoughts flashed through Graves’s mind. On the surface, he merely put on a smile again, took out his own wand, and said to Vaughn as if chatting, “I’ve heard that all wands in your country come from the Ollivander family?”
“Yes.”
“Exquisite craftsmanship, astonishing artistry. Truly worthy of a family with over two thousand years of tradition.” He raised the Elderwood wand, examined its core, and then suddenly chanted:
“Prior Incantato!”
A powerful magic erupted, surging like a massive wave towards the Elderwood wand.
In an instant, the wand’s resistance was dissolved. Wisps of smoky light slowly spread out from the Elderwood wand.
Soon, several ethereal figures materialized from the halo.
“…Careful, Apparition—”
A voice, as if from another world, faint and ethereal, sounded in their ears with the appearance of the figures.
It was the scene of Vaughn’s surprise attack on Essex and others yesterday.
Vaughn watched calmly. Prior Incantato is an investigative spell that can trace back a wand’s usage of magic over a certain period and in what contexts.
Of course, the traced content was not very detailed, which was why Essex’s voice was so distorted.
Even so, in England, this spell, like Veritaserum, was explicitly forbidden by the Wizengamot. Under normal circumstances, even the Ministry of Magic could not arbitrarily use it on a wizard.
However, in America, a Director of Security clearly had no restrictions on using Prior Incantato!
Gazing at the blurred scenes and indistinguishable silhouette figures that the Elderwood wand was tracing under the magic, Graves became curious:
“Mr. Weasley, are these the subversive elements from yesterday?”
“Yes,” Vaughn replied concisely.
Graves was unconcerned, evaluating with interest, “Even though I have already seen some of these scenes in the memories of intelligence personnel yesterday, I must say, your Apparition is astonishing…”
Then, he changed tack. “However, I noticed you used Memory Magic multiple times later, including Legilimency, and a strange spell I don’t recognize… Do you have anything to say? For example, what were the names of those whose memories you invaded, and what organizations do they belong to?”
Vaughn shook his head. “I didn’t obtain any useful intelligence. They were very careful; their mind worlds were protected by wizards skilled in Memory Magic.”
Michael Graves stared directly at Vaughn for a moment before breaking into a smile. “I can understand. Ever since we captured a few individuals last year and used their memories for several raids, these filthy rats have become increasingly cautious and cunning. Two months ago, one of our memory mages was driven to idiocy by a self-destruct trap implanted in the mind of a rat… I’m glad you didn’t encounter similar insidious methods!”
“Thank you for your concern.”
Vaughn, whose expression had remained impassive, politely thanked him. “You’ve already tallied everything, checked the wand, is there anything else? I would be even more grateful if you could leave quickly and not delay my experiments any further!”
Upon hearing his impolite words, Graves’s smile narrowed slightly, then returned to its previous state. “I apologize for disturbing you, but I hope you understand that these checks, including my words to you, are for your own good!”
Heh!
Vaughn chuckled. “Thank you, I’ll consider it carefully… And please send my regards to Woolworth Building!”
This was a clear dismissal.
Hearing that Vaughn still had no further intentions, even after his repeated hints, Michael Graves frowned, but he still maintained his composure and nodded with reserve.
“Alright, it certainly requires consideration. Then, Woolworth awaits your reply.”
With that, the smile completely disappeared from his face. He tossed the Elderwood wand to the young wizard beside him and instructed, “Vitawiki, leave the mark, let’s go!”
The young wizard named Vitawiki fumbled to catch the wand and quickly muttered a spell.
A silver thread appeared on the surface of the Elderwood wand the moment the spell was completed. It wound around the wand in circles, emitting a faint glow.
Then it slowly faded.
“Mr… Mr. Weasley, while you are within the Federation, the Magical Congress will monitor your wand usage and location information in real-time. This is a sacred right granted to the Congress by the people of the Federation, and you are not permitted to tamper with, damage, or conceal it…”
Vitawiki nervously recited the “warning.” Seeing no objection from Vaughn, he let out a sigh of relief and hurried to catch up with Michael Graves, who had already flicked his sleeves and departed.
Soon, within the suitcase space, only Vaughn and Lupin remained. The wizard from the Federation who had followed them in had also left at some point.
Vaughn glanced at Lupin. “You go too. Take them to register Matthew’s information. If there are any other reasonable investigative requests, try to accommodate them as well.”
“President…”
Lupin, who had been restraining himself from speaking, was somewhat annoyed and unwilling.
“Go. Don’t give them any excuses for now. We can discuss anything after they leave!”
Lupin rarely disliked anyone.
Of course, he had encountered particularly detestable people in the past – like Umbridge – but none of them had ever made Lupin dislike them to the point of outright loathing, as Michael Graves did today!
He detested the man’s superficial refinement!
He detested the man’s pretense!
