Hogwarts: Voldemort, don't stop me from studying

Chapter 953 Orphanage

In the suburbs of Washington, a tranquil Victorian manor is nestled among maple trees, its cast-iron gate adorned with a simple wooden plaque.
Sacred Heart Children's Welfare and Relief Home.

In the courtyard, a dozen children were playing in the autumn afternoon sun.

Some children were chasing balls on the lawn, some were sitting quietly on benches reading picture books, and a few older children were helping the kitchen prepare dinner.

Everything seemed normal, even more welcoming than a typical welfare home—sunshine, grass, children's laughter, and the aroma of baking cookies in the air.

However, it was somewhat strange that all the children wore different colored plastic bracelets on their wrists, the walls of the facility were much higher than those of ordinary welfare homes, and there were cameras on the walls that were operating all day long.

On the top floor of the main building of the welfare home, in the room with the sign "Director's Office," the heavy curtains were drawn tightly shut, and soundproofing spells and anti-detection spells were layered on top of each other.

The air was filled with a faint smell of blood, the sour stench of vomit, and a mixed scent of herbs unique to magical potions.

John Stonefield slumped into a high-backed chair.

This gentleman, known in Washington as a "philanthropist" and "pioneer in child protection," now stared blankly at a wall lamp on the wall in front of him, his clothes disheveled and covered with his own vomit.

Standing to his side was Victor, whose face wore an expression that was a mixture of disgust and boredom. One hand was in his overalls pocket, and in the other hand was a crystal bottle containing truth serum.

“Go on, Mr. Stonefield.”

Victor's voice was rough, and his expression was somewhat cold:

"You just mentioned 'special children'—how exactly are they 'special'?"

John, who had been brutally beaten, made gurgling sounds in his throat. He originally had a very strong will and was not completely incapable of resisting the truth serum.

But at this moment, his physical weakness and pain made him delirious, and he could only answer mechanically under the influence of the potion:
"It's about people with special blood types... those who can be matched with certain people... and those underage wizards who are born with magical powers... their blood, bone marrow, certain organs... all have great uses..."

Victor clicked his tongue and turned to Videl, who was rapidly taking notes in the corner of the room:

"Write this down! These bastards."

Videl nodded expressionlessly, his quill flying across the parchment. Occasionally, he would look up and exchange a glance with Vito, who stood in the shadows by the window.

Vito crossed his arms and exuded a chilling aura.

"How did you discover those underage wizards?" Victor continued, "Did you search the world for children who had exhibited unusual behavior?"

John showed some resistance, but quickly became docile under the influence of the potion, whispering as if in his sleep:
"Yes... it's cooperation... we have cooperation with certain officials in the magical world, and professors at schools..."

Victor's brow twitched slightly, and he turned to look at his companions.

"What's going on? These guys are really cooperating?" he whispered. "The purgers who fooled the Khalil family weren't entirely lying after all?"

However, those guys were applying the same situation of American magic schools to Hogwarts.
Before he could ask further, John murmured, “In the wizarding world, there’s something called the Rappaport Law. They believe that the two sides must be completely separated.”

"So some people at the magic school... are very resistant to accepting children from ordinary families, believing that they are... a hidden danger."

"Wizards say that Muggle children, even if they grow up in magic school, may... harbor resentment towards the wizarding world, reveal secrets to their family and friends... and even, after learning magic, turn their wands against wizards..."

"But they can't just let it go unchecked. It's like... it's like underage wizards, if left unguided, will turn into monsters that even they themselves fear... and they can't explain it to the international community either."

“So they sold the list to us, and let us supervise them…” “Supervise them?” Victor laughed, a laugh devoid of any warmth: “Then these ‘supervised’ young wizards must be more than just those few, right? Where did they all end up?”

John's eyes moved unconsciously in their sockets:
"A portion... is used to study the dominant expression of magical genes... another portion... is provided to clients who need 'magical organ transplants,' some ancient families... who believe that the organs of young wizards can enhance their own magical power, as well as increase their vitality, resilience, and lifespan..."

Vito scoffed, "As if they were just intermediaries. If it weren't for the Stonefield family's hard work in promoting this, how could the elite among ordinary people have formed this 'consensus'?"

Videl paused in his writing. He looked up at Vito and said:
"There's nothing strange about it. Throughout history, humans have often treated their own kind far more cruelly than they have treated animals."

“I know!” Vito said coldly, “I just can’t help but want to kill when I think about how my master might have suffered the same fate if he had been born in America!”

Videl's expression shifted slightly, and he said in a low voice, "I know... me too."

Victor glanced at the two men and continued his interrogation: "You guys do this kind of business, you must have ledgers, right? Customer lists? Transaction records? Who's your contact at the Ministry of Magic?"

John's eyebrows twitched a few times, and he said haltingly:
"The ledger... the ledger is in the safe in the basement... the client list is only for residences, I'm not qualified to know it..."

"The only person I know about the Ministry of Magic's liaison is the director of the Magical Congress's 'Office for the Placement of Special Populations.' But as far as I know, the Magical Congress doesn't have such an office, at least not publicly..."

Vito left the bedroom quietly, and a few minutes later he returned with several sealed lead boxes that he had found in the basement.

Victor's interrogation continued: "So what about the children you sent away all these years? Where are the records kept...?"

……

The living room, separated from the bedroom by only one wall, has a completely different atmosphere.

The room was brightly lit, with afternoon sunlight streaming through the bay window onto the Persian carpet. Vader sat at a large oak desk, several huge sheets of parchment spread out before him.

He rested his chin on his hand, his fingertips lightly tapping, a nimble quill pen continuously sketching on the parchment, marking the distribution of power and connections of the Stonefield family.

The lines radiate out from Washington's political heart, connecting military-industrial complexes, pharmaceutical companies, media networks, charitable foundations...

Next to each node is a label indicating the person's name, position, relationship to Stonefield, and the level of evidence that may be incriminating.

The charts are as complex as a spider web, yet they are also clearly organized and easy to understand at a glance.

Vera stood quietly beside him, skillfully tidying up the scattered documents and categorizing important evidence into different folders.

Her movements were gentle yet efficient, occasionally accompanied by a soft reminder:
“Master, this is a list of donations we found in John’s office. Over the past three years, three members of Congress have donated amounts far exceeding the normal range.”

"And this one... This Russian oligarch also has close ties with the Stonefield family, preferring to do unprofitable deals himself rather than give up most of the profits to the Stonefield family..."

Wade nodded and marked the corresponding position on the chart.

His expression was focused and calm, his eyes reflecting the interwoven lines, which represented the uninterrupted transmission of power and evil.

This task could certainly be given to the puppets, whose meticulousness would ensure that no major mistakes would occur, but Wade believed that only by going through it himself could he truly understand all the intricacies.

Just then—a small mirror on the edge of the desk, which was playing news from the magical world, suddenly switched the screen without warning!

(End of this chapter)