Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 192 Grindelwald: You're going too far!

Vaughn refused outright: "No need. I have no interest in experiencing something that someone else has already tasted."

Upon hearing this, DeSantis shrugged: "Okay, back to the point. As you can see, I failed back then and paid a heavy price. But that also made me realize that if we want to make changes successfully, we can no longer follow the old model."

"Ah……"

Vaughn scoffed: "So your new method, which you've come up with to abandon the old model, is to try and sow discord between me and the Federation and the Magical Congress of America? To start a war?"

De Santis nodded:

"A new world requires a new order. A society obviously cannot accommodate two sets of orders. Therefore, before establishing a new order, the old one must be completely eradicated!"

Even if many wizards die?

"This is a necessary price to pay, and I think it's acceptable."

De Santis remained calm.

Vaughn was somewhat disappointed.

In fact, DeSantis's previous statement was not wrong, and his analysis was quite accurate. His summary that "those who associate for profit will part ways when the profit is gone" is even more fitting.

His only mistake was that his goals were actually different from Vaughn's.

It's not hard to see from his words that what he wants is to establish a completely new magical world, and he is willing to accept even rivers of blood and mountains of corpses for it.

But Vaughn... didn't want to do that!
“Just because you can accept it doesn’t mean I can.” Vaughn sighed inwardly and slowly stood up. “If we start counting from the enactment of the Secret Law, the Old Order has lasted for over three hundred years. Countless wizards live within its framework and are accustomed to it. If you have to kill them all if you oppose or disrupt it, then how many people are you going to kill? Is there a standard or a bottom line?”

DeSantis frowned: "If you're going to set a bottom line, what's the point of a revolution? Why do you have this view? I don't think you're a moralistic or hypocritical person."

"It has nothing to do with morality..."

Vaughn picked up a cup of tea and casually stirred the spoon: "But you've stirred up conflict, started wars, and created hatred. Even if you succeed in the end, the killing and hatred will actually cause the wizarding world to fall into division. Then, how can I achieve my ideals? Mr. DeSantis, or rather... Grindelwald?"

"Boom-"

There was a sound of impact, as if it came from a distant world, transmitted from reality into the heart, echoing hollowly, frozen in the courtyard at dusk, swaying slightly.

The flowers that were in full bloom all huddled up, and the "Jack Graves" hiding among the flowers and in the fountain paid no attention to the noise and shaking, but instead secretly peeked at the pavilion.

The atmosphere in the pavilion was stagnant.

"Grindelwald..."

The name Vaughn uttered last echoed in the air, fading into the distance.

DeSantis paused, holding his teacup. He looked up at Vaughn, the faint smile on his face gone, replaced by a blank expression.

As if oblivious to the change in his expression, Vaughn toyed with the teacup beside him, the clear tea inside rippling with his movements.

"You just said that these afternoon teas were taken from your own memories. The fact that you were able to choose and recreate them shows that he had a very deep impression of them, and perhaps they even evoked some emotions..."

Vaughn picked up his teacup and smelled it: "De Santis is a typical Italian surname, but this tea is a fruit and flower tea, with only flowers and fruits, no tea leaves, and a strong sour taste... It also comes with sausage snacks."

He tilted his head slightly, his smile growing even brighter: "It's a fairly traditional German and Austrian diet, which has little to do with Italian food."

"..."

The atmosphere fell silent. DeSantis slowly put down his teacup, stared for a moment, and then looked at Vaughn: "So, you suspect I'm Grindelwald because of this?"

"Not only that, I just asked you if you've ever had any failures. You said you have. Maybe I'm just ignorant, but I've never heard of any Italian wizard who has ever challenged the Secret Law. I can only compare him to the most famous one."

Vaughn shrugged: "Of course, if you don't admit it, I really don't have any more evidence, even though there are many suspicious points about you."

"Especially your strength, such a powerful master of memory magic. When I first encountered you, I specifically investigated you, but unfortunately I found nothing. Normally, a wizard like you shouldn't be unknown, unless the name DeSantis is fake."

"With this hypothesis, we can continue to deduce—why would a master of memory magic hide his identity? Perhaps it's because he has a terrible reputation in the magic world, or because his past achievements were too brilliant and his influence too widespread, so he doesn't dare to reveal himself until he has achieved certain results?"

"The most important one is Dumbledore."

Vaughn finally mentioned the key name. He observed DeSantis's expression and said calmly, "The day I met you, I wrote him a letter immediately. However, his reply was evasive, only telling me to be careful of you, as if he was afraid that I would become interested in you and continue to contact you... Old Deng probably didn't even realize that his uneasy behavior only appeared when I talked to him about Grindelwald, because he was always afraid that I would go astray."

"What's even more interesting is that he left Hogwarts not long after receiving my letter, and no one knows where he went. I think he must have been unable to resist going to see an old friend he suspected?"

On the other end, without responding to Vaughn's meaningful question, DeSantis merely narrowed his eyes slightly: "Oh—you're spying on Dumbledore?"

"Don't put it so harshly. I'm just concerned about him. After all, he's so old. What if he accidentally dies out there?"

"Hahahaha——"

DeSantis suddenly laughed.

A smile played on Vaughn's lips as he watched his laughter grow louder and more unrestrained.

Then it abruptly stopped!

DeSantis looked at Vaughn in silence.

An atmosphere seemed to freeze over the pavilion, and the "Jacks" near and far hid even deeper, trembling with fear.

Finally, he sighed: "You brought up Dumbledore, trying to use him to pressure me?"

Vaughn still had a smile on his face: "Oh, how could that be? We were analyzing the various clues that led me to believe you were Grindelwald, and we just mentioned it briefly."

"Ah."

DeSantis scoffed, not believing him at all, but he didn't press the matter further. Instead, he asked, "You say my ideals will hinder yours? I don't understand. What's the difference between us?"

Instead of answering him immediately, Vaughn asked, "What's your opinion on Muggles?"

"A bunch of greedy vampires, overconfident parasites, the cancer of the world!" DeSantis bluntly stated, "If you want a real assessment, this is my summary of Muggles. I suppose that's where our differences lie. To be honest, I'm disappointed. I thought you'd be different, but it turns out you're just like Dumbledore..."

Don't wait for him to finish speaking.

Vaughn slowly shook his head: "No, I don't agree with Dumbledore's point of view. His boundless love can't even convince himself, so how could it possibly convince me?"

"Ok?"

DeSantis frowned; he was even more confused.

Meeting his questioning gaze, Vaughn said calmly, "In my eyes, Muggles are the foundation for miracles!"

Upon hearing his assessment, DeSantis frowned in disgust.

However, before he could ask a question, Vaughn had already steered the conversation back to DeSantis' earlier question:
"You asked me what the difference is between our ideals, and you're not wrong. Our differences do lie in our attitudes toward Muggles, but the root of the problem has nothing to do with what Muggles have done, their morality, or even their society and ideology. It's simply because they have a large enough population!"

“You once said that the magical world of this world is stagnant, and I do hate this situation. But it’s different from what you think. You believe that what’s restricting the magical world is the Law of Secrecy, while I believe it’s because there are too few wizards!”

"With a population of over 6000 million in England, there are only tens of thousands of wizards. The number is too small to even generate the need and conflict for social change, let alone accumulate power."

Upon hearing this, for some reason, DeSantis suddenly felt a sense of dread.

It was as if he would hear something horrifying from Vaughn Weasley's mouth at any moment.

And his hunch was right.

Vaughn, who had been toying with the teacup in his hand, said calmly, "Ever since I first experienced a magical upheaval at the age of 8, I have been observing, practicing, and thinking—what exactly is the difference between Muggles and wizards? As you probably know, we are no different in terms of physical appearance. We have the same flesh and blood, with neither more nor less organs."

"At that time, I was thinking... with the same intelligence and the same life forms, if Muggles could also learn magic, wouldn't this world that I find so boring, so unchanging, like stagnant water, become more vibrant?"

"!"

DeSantis opened his eyes wide.

DeSantis considers himself a very extreme person.

He loathed the Secret Service Act, a system ostensibly for protection but in reality a vile form of racial segregation.

He loathed the reality that wizards, who clearly held the power to decide the life and death of Muggles, were forced to hide like rats because of the hypocrisy of some people.

Therefore, he was willing to sacrifice mountains of corpses and seas of blood to destroy those decaying things that had been around for hundreds of years.

For most wizards, creating conflict, instigating war, and trafficking in killings are already unforgivable and unforgivable crimes.

DeSantis thought so too. He chose this path not because he was unaware of its evils and dangers, but because he knew he had no other way to go.

That's why he said it was a necessary price to pay!

That's why he felt disappointed when Vaughn questioned him about the standards and bottom lines of killing.

Because he felt that Vaughn Weasley might not be the person he believed to be, someone with a firm commitment to ideals.

Until now!

“You…you’re outrageous! Ridiculous!” DeSantis stared wide-eyed at Vaughn as if he were a madman. “How could you have such…such an extreme idea? It’s utterly incomprehensible!”

To make all Muggles have magic?
Is this something a normal person could come up with?

Faced with his shock, Vaughn was unfazed and even laughed: "Speaking of which, I should thank you. Ever since I entered Hogwarts and browsed through the library's collection of research manuscripts donated by alumni over the years on why wizards possess magic, and saw more and more evidence supporting the Golden Soul theory, proving that wizards' magic and talents originate from the soul, I was actually quite depressed for a while."

"The study of the soul is a difficult problem in the entire magical world. In order to realize my ideal, I have to find another way and try to focus on magical creatures, and devise an experimental plan to crack their magical organs and transplant them into Muggles."

"This is a very rare topic in the magical world. Starting from scratch is obviously very difficult. After all, it's not just about crudely transplanting organs. We need to delve into the genetic code and ideally let Muggles 'grow' the corresponding organs naturally. This is a huge undertaking."

"But I never expected that my trip to North America would bring me such a pleasant surprise... My dear friend, you have no idea how happy I was when I first saw the Purifiers in Oliver's memories and concluded that they came from Muggle society and were likely products of genetic engineering."

His pupils reflected Vaughn Weasley's calm smile as he listened to his words.

DeSantis felt his worldview shattered!

How could he say such terrifying things with a smile?

Fear, anger, anxiety... all sorts of negative emotions surged into DeSantis's mind in an instant. This "conscious life" that differentiated from the subject profoundly influenced this mental space. The moment the emotions arose, the "courtyard" changed accordingly.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, and a fierce wind howled past, instantly turning the once tranquil courtyard into a raging inferno. Even the light of the seemingly eternal twilight dimmed as a result!

Muggles possess magic?

How can we tolerate something like this!
"Why did you do that?" DeSantis demanded.

Vaughn gently set down his teacup:

"For magic!"

His figure faded, his form, glowing with a hazy light, gradually disintegrated into wisps of mist and vanished.

Only in this space of his heart does his final answer echo:

“You say my path is wrong, but in my opinion, your path is not necessarily any better. Even if you break the Law of Secrecy and let wizards rule Muggles, how is this world any different from before? Magic will still be in the hands of a few. After decades, after a hundred years, it will eventually become dead again, just like before.”

"Only when magic is popularized and everyone participates will the world truly change. Only when the scale expands and magic is no longer the privilege of a few but the mainstream of this planet can miracles be born."

"This is my view, and my ideal. Although today's chat didn't go as well as I hoped, I'm still pleased to see that we had effective communication, which will save a lot of time for the future. Goodbye, DeSantis... or rather, Grindelwald."

Vaughn's form eventually disintegrated.

The fog dissipated into the glow of the sunset.

DeSantis knew that the other party had voluntarily relinquished this wisp of consciousness, allowing it to perish within its own domain, so as to prevent him from eroding it and thus affecting the main body of consciousness.

But he also knew that the other person's memory of chatting with him had already escaped.

He raised his head with a grim expression, his gaze piercing through the twilight light above the courtyard, through the dense, dark clouds that represented his emotions, and seeing deeper into the "sky," where wisps of milky white were seeping in.

That's a memory magic called Personification, and it has completely taken control of Jack Graves!

"Vaughn…Weasley!"

DeSantis's face turned ashen as he pondered the name.

……

"Boom!"

The heavy attack crashed down once more. Donald groaned, his legs trembling, and the Ultimate Armor Spell he had raised high rippled violently, cracking like shattered glass.

Outside, Evelyn and several wizards were fiercely attacking the shield.

Donald struggled to stay afloat, fighting from the very beginning of the upheaval until his magic and emotions were severely depleted, which eventually manifested physically.

He felt that his physical strength was almost exhausted, and he even had difficulty concentrating.

And he wasn't even using his own wand...

Boom!
Flames erupted as the massive explosion spell that struck the shield dissipated, and flames flowed like water along the shield's curved outline.

Cracks spread across his face. Donald gasped for breath, his pupils reflecting the blazing light and the outside world: Evelyn's expression was contorted as she raised her wand once more.

Goodbye, Donald!

Then, an invisible whooshing sound swept past, Evelyn's expression froze, and after a breath, a thin line of blood gradually appeared between her eyebrows.

puff!

Blood mist and strange slurry sprayed from the back of her head. At the same time, several Graves traitors who were attacking Donald alongside Evelyn also collapsed to the ground, their limbs twitching.

They...are dead?
Whether it was from witnessing the death of someone he knew or from a lack of focus, Donald was momentarily confused.

But he noticed that the light behind him had changed; a twilight-like color seemed to be rising from behind him.

He heard Vaughn's voice coming from behind him:
"Thank you for your hard work. Leave the rest to me!"

A headache is a sign of impaired consciousness.

But the memories that Jack Graves experienced at the edge of his dream not long ago were not left there; instead, they were transmitted back by his consciousness through a spiritual connection.

"DeSantis...could it be Grindelwald?"

As the milky white mist in his eyes gradually faded, Vaughn came back to his senses and felt a sudden disconnect in his thoughts—on one side was the frozen courtyard at dusk.

On one hand, there's the hustle and bustle of reality!

The battle above continued. He heard the sounds of incantations, shouts, screams, and a muffled thud behind him.

The scattered flames released light and heat. Vaughn turned around and saw that Donald Graves was almost unable to withstand Evelyn Graves's attacks.

He endured the pain and raised his wand.

The silent, unseen divine blade swept past without a trace.

The powerful magic took their lives in an instant, without even leaving a ripple in Vaughn's heart, because at this moment his attention was completely focused on Jack Graves.

He saw the light of dusk once again.

As his memories returned, DeSantis, who had been hiding in Jack Graves's inner world, seemed to have also come out to chase after him.

Faint yet incredibly clear beams of dim yellow light shot out from Jack's eyes, mouth, and nose.

"Thank you for your hard work. Leave the rest to me!"

He casually offered some words of comfort to the already swaying Donald, tapped the back of his head with his wand, and put him to sleep. Then he cast a Transfiguration Charm to reduce his weight.

After doing all this, Vaughn looked at Jack Graves.

His skin had become almost transparent, completely bathed in the light of dusk, and he let out a chilling wail:
"DeSantis! Why—"

"He's still conscious..."

Thinking this, Vaughn switched his perspective, and the world in his eyes changed accordingly.

On a magical level, Jack Graves is more terrifying than the naked eye can see.

His mental and spiritual body was like a balloon stretched to its limit, having lost its human form, with boundless light piercing out from beneath the five-colored radiance representing the spirit.

It was as if a sun was awakening inside him, trying to burst him out and bring him back to reality!
"Spiritual life... It is now known that it can exist in the human mind, in a person's memory, and it seems that it can even temporarily replace the host? And in a very brutal way!"

Vaughn flicked his wand, taking advantage of the close proximity and the fact that the connection hadn't been severed, and communicated with the personality suit he hadn't had time to retrieve when he left.

As the spell was cast, in the magical vision, Vaughn saw wisps of illusory white mist emerge from Jack Graves's body and then wrap around him in layers!

The infinite light was instantly covered, and the continued expansion of Jack Graves's mental body was immediately halted.

After doing all this, Vaughn didn't pause at all. With a flick of his staff, a smooth sphere emerged from the air around him.

He grabbed Donald and threw him into the ball; someone else would catch him on the other side.

Sure enough, a short while later, a complaining voice came from the passageway: "Why are people being thrown around like that? If I hadn't reacted quickly, this old man would have been crushed to death."

Accompanied by the sound, Akinbad emerged from the passage, muttering complaints as he went:
"I just opened a bottle of champagne and have a North American tomahawk steak. I was just about to enjoy a perfect dinner amidst the distant flames of war, and you... oh!"

The sound stopped abruptly, and he finally saw Jack Graves not far away, shrouded in thick white mist that kept twisting and turning, as if something was trying to break free.

"What the hell is this?"

"Remember DeSantis, whom I mentioned last time?"

“Of course…” Akinbad paused, his expression surprised: “This guy has it too?”

"That's right, and he's coming out."

Upon hearing this, Akinbad's face turned green, and he glared at Vaughn unhappily: "So you called me here just to clean up your mess?"

Vaughn smiled: "We agreed to an alliance, so it can't be that I'm the only one doing the work while you do nothing, can it?"

"Damn it, he might be a legendary wizard!"

"That's why I asked you to come." Vaughn shrugged, then comforted him, "Besides, it's not his real body, just a mental life he created. I believe in you, keep going!"

“Shit—”

Before Akinbad could finish his rant, a huge sphere appeared, rapidly expanding and instantly swallowing Jack Graves and Akinbad whole.

Then it disappears!

Vaughn was always very self-aware, knowing that he was not yet capable of confronting a legendary wizard.

Therefore, when he realized that DeSantis was likely to come after him, he decisively pulled Akinbad over!

Anyway, the old wizard had nothing better to do.

As for himself...

Vaughn looked up, and a silent spell he cast caught a Purifier flying overhead. The Purifier didn't even have time to react before it plummeted to the ground.

The person and the broom separated. The broom obediently flew to Vaughn's side, while the Purifier, who was in mid-air, was bound by ropes formed from a few blades of grass and thrown into the spatial passage.

The next moment, Vaughn flipped himself onto the broom and soared into the sky.

He had more important things to do. With so much research material available, wouldn't he be missing out if he didn't grab a few more?
……

When Donald woke up, the sun was shining brightly.

Pure white, blazing light shone in from the bay window not far away; a gentle breeze stirred the curtains, and the temperature was warm and pleasant.

Where is this?

He struggled to sit up, his head heavy and aching. Before him was a rather luxurious Muggle bedroom—because there was electricity, a huge television was silently playing a news program not far from the foot of the bed, and a middle-aged man was sitting in front of it.

Hearing the noise, the middle-aged man turned around: "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

He doesn't seem to smile often, and the smile that appeared on his lips at that moment was rather unpleasant.

Donald shook his head, his voice hoarse: "You are..."

"Matthew." The middle-aged man didn't mention his surname. He got up, went to the other side of the room to pour a glass of water, and brought it over. "You slept for a full 12 hours. Mr. Weasley said it was a side effect of mental exhaustion. You'll feel better after you wake up. Are you feeling better now?"

"I……"

Weasley?
Yes, Weasley, he's the one who knocked me out!

The dormant memories suddenly surged up, and Donald felt his head throbbing even more. He forced himself to try and recall everything from last night.

A moment later, he raised his head, panting, and asked, "Last night, what happened last night?"

As if anticipating his question, Matthew tilted his head, gesturing for him to look at the television: "It's over for now. I'm watching the Muggle news, wanna join me?"

As he spoke, he picked up the remote and turned on the sound.

"...A bizarre phenomenon suddenly struck Boston. It is reported that hundreds of families left their homes without warning last night, wandering the streets in a daze, and they did not know why they did it... Let's interview one of the people involved, Mr. Peterson. Mr. Peterson, do you have no recollection of what you did yesterday?"

"I don't remember anything... I don't know why I left the house. You know, I was already asleep, and I like to sleep naked, so when I woke up I wasn't even covered by a piece of cloth, and there were people all around me. God—"

"Please calm down, Mr. Peterson... Okay, let's continue the interview. You mean, without any warning, like seeing some kind of hallucination or hearing some kind of sound, you just... just walked out like you were going for a walk?"

"Sigh—yes, there were no hallucinations, no sounds, I didn't even know what was happening."

"Have you noticed any changes happening nearby?"

"Of course, although the streets and houses look normal, I know something big must have happened here yesterday... It's just a feeling, you know? I've lived here for decades, I used to be able to find every brick, every blade of grass with my eyes closed, but when I came back today, I almost didn't recognize my own house... It must be aliens, yes, Star Wars... Yesterday, aliens must have fought a huge battle here and destroyed the houses and streets..."

“But Mr. Peterson, you also said that the streets and houses look normal and have not been damaged.”

"Time reversal! Aliens used time travel to restore everything that was destroyed! Idiot! I told you, this place feels different. Although it's still the neighborhood I know, it's not the neighborhood I know at this point in time. It must be aliens, aliens—"

"Uh, sorry about the studio, it seems Mr. Peterson isn't fully awake yet... Let's move on to the next one..."

Donald drank his water and silently watched the news on TV.

After several interviews, aerial footage of the Muggle streets appeared on the screen, and everything seemed normal.

He saw a familiar villa.

That villa that was destroyed by a nuclear bomb.

Noticing his gaze, Matthew, who had been silently standing beside him, spoke up: "Mr. Weasley has seized that alchemical artifact that controls time and space. The nuclear bomb has been dealt with, and the battlefield was repaired by my colleagues after the battle. We've tried our best to minimize the impact. Although some sensitive Muggles have noticed something amiss, it doesn't affect them much."

After drinking some water, Donald felt his throat was better. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Where are my men?"

"They are also resting at the hotel, including your brother Jacob Graves. You can visit them anytime."

"...How many people are left?" Donald clenched his fist as he asked the question.

"32 people."

"..."

Donald closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then opened them again: "...Did you catch Jack Graves?"

Matthew shook his head: "I don't know, you'll probably have to ask Mr. Weasley."

Where is... Mr. Weasley?

"Turn left after you go out, at the end of the corridor... Your body hasn't recovered yet, I suggest you rest for a while longer."

"no need."

Donald politely declined; he had no desire to rest now. Of the eight Auror squads, only 32 remained alive, meaning the squads were almost entirely wiped out.

Such a huge loss, and the dead were all his people...

Donald was heartbroken!
And all of this... was caused by that traitor Jack Graves!
He couldn't eat or sleep if he couldn't get news from the other party soon!
Refusing Matthew's help, Donald staggered out of the room and, following Matthew's directions, walked to the end of the corridor, to a more luxurious door.

He was no stranger to the Muggle society and knew this was a high-end suite in the hotel, but before he could ring the doorbell, he heard arguing coming from inside.

(End of this chapter)