0806 Some Thoughts (LARGE-CHAPTER)

Having walked through the devastating war years that had torn apart the European magical society, having witnessed personally the rise and fall of that dark wizard whose name was still feared decades later, and having served as a high-ranking official of the International Confederation of Wizards for the better part of three decades,

Vipor Dreghorn had spent the overwhelming majority of his adult life fighting tirelessly for what he believed to be the common welfare of wizards worldwide.

His approach to governance and international diplomacy had always been orderly, systematic, and uncompromisingly rigid, a style that had earned him no small amount of criticism from colleagues.

Yet despite these criticisms, there was absolutely no question that Vipor Dreghorn possessed dignity and grace in abundance.

But what about the old man now standing before Bryan in the doorway of this private room in the Three Broomsticks?

This figure was almost unrecognizable as the same one that had met Bryan outside Nurmengard castle just weeks earlier.

His spirit appeared utterly listless, as if some spark had been drained from his very soul, leaving behind only a hollow shell. His face had traces of exhaustion. His graying hair, which had always been groomed now lacked its usual careful orderliness and the wound on his forehead still showed a faint dark red color.

“Thanks to me?” Bryan’s surprise was entirely genuine, not the carefully crafted tactful surprise he might have shown in other circumstances.

“What do you mean by that?”

Similarly, Vipor’s sharp gaze could immediately see that Bryan’s confusion was not some performance or intended distraction, he had truly and completely forgotten.

But this realization did not quell the burning anger in his heart. Instead, it made his fury burn even more fiercely, like adding oil to an already roaring fire.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his gaze turned sinister as he found himself seriously considering whether to draw his wand right here in this public shop and give Bryan Watson a harsh, unforgettable lesson, letting him taste some suffering as well.

In the end, however, practical considerations (he was less powerful) won out over emotional impulses.

Vipor let out a slightly defeated sigh and he slumped heavily into the chair by the window table. He glanced at the black castle on the cliff, snorted with unclear meaning, then picked up the sherry from the table and drained it in one gulp.

“Have you forgotten?” Vipor’s tone was harsh and accusatory. “The ‘assignment’ you gave me?”

“Oh!” Bryan raised an eyebrow, finally remembering. “You mean the trials of those dark wizards?”

Indeed, he had completely put this matter out of his mind.

“It’s only been two weeks!” Vipor exploded, his voice rising to a near shout as visible veins began to bulge along his temples and forehead. “Two weeks since you handed me what you described as a ‘simple matter’ and then disappeared to deal with your tournament and your personal projects!”

Bryan’s mouth twitched as he began to ‘appreciate’ what he had done, and finally, he gave Vipor what he hoped was a genuinely apologetic smile. The expression was tinged with embarrassment and perhaps a touch of guilt.

This was indeed no simple, straightforward matter that could be resolved with a few routine hearings and perfunctory paperwork.

With so many dark wizards lined up awaiting trial, the legal process was far from a simple matter of asking a few cursory questions in a courtroom and rubber-stamping predetermined sentences.

Each individual wizard facing trial required long, detailed interrogation by professionals skilled in detecting deception and extracting truth from reluctant subjects. The process involved distinguishing carefully between lies and truth, separating genuine confessions from desperate attempts to minimize liability or shift blame to others.

Furthermore, each case needed thorough field investigations into the specific crimes alleged against each defendant.

Teams of investigators had to visit crime scenes, interview victims and witnesses, examine physical evidence, and piece together complex patterns of criminal activity that spanned years or even decades. Many of these dark wizards had been operating in secret for decades, leaving behind networks that required painstaking effort to unravel completely.

Finally, after all the investigation and interrogation was complete, there was the matter of rendering appropriate judgment. Each case required careful consideration of the evidence, evaluation of justifying and aggravating circumstances, and the application of complex international magical law.

The sentences had to be proportionate to the crimes while also serving as appropriate deterrents to others who might be tempted to follow similar paths.

These were just the most obvious difficulties that they had anticipated at the beginning. In reality, the situation was even more complex and politically complicated than these basic challenges showed.

Because this massive trial implicated so many people across multiple countries and jurisdictions, and because it had attracted the intense attention of numerous influential wizards, journalists, and political observers throughout the European magical community, every single verdict handed down by the special tribunal would be subject to intense scrutiny and criticism from multiple directions.

Conservative wizards would argue that the sentences were too harsh, that the defendants were being made into scapegoats for broader social problems, and that the entire process was a politically motivated witch hunt designed to consolidate Bryan Watson’s reputation as a crusader against dark magic.

Liberal wizards would argue that the sentences were too lenient, that dangerous criminals were being allowed to escape appropriate punishment, and that the international magical community was failing in its duty to protect innocent civilians from dark magic practitioners.

Political opponents would use any controversial decisions as ammunition in their ongoing campaigns against the current leadership of various magical ministries.

Journalists would scrutinize every aspect of the trials for scandal, corruption, or incompetence that might sell newspapers and advance their careers.

It was, in short, purely a thankless job that required enormous effort, impeccable judgment, and thick skin, while offering little praise or recognition for success and guaranteed criticism for any supposed failure.

No matter how competently Vipor handled the trials, no matter how carefully he balanced the competing demands of justice, politics, and public relations, he was almost certain to face harsh criticism from multiple sides.

The soft sound of approaching footsteps on the wooden stairs announced the arrival of Madam Rosmerta, who appeared at the doorway of their private room carrying a silver tray filled with refreshments.

She set down two generous glasses of premium Firewhisky along with a variety of food.

After setting down the refreshments, Madam Rosmerta cast a curious glance at Vipor who seemed somehow familiar to her, though she couldn’t quite place where she might have seen him before.

After a moment of polite curiosity, she left the private booth.

Bryan stared at the red wound partially concealed by the white gauze bandage on Vipor’s forehead and asked. “How did you get that injury?”

“One of the more resourceful defendants found an opportunity to pass secret messages to accomplices outside the detention facility,” Vipor replied, his voice flat and emotionless.

“When the tribunal was preparing to transport him from his secure holding cell to the courtroom for his scheduled trial, his criminal accomplices did a coordinated attack on the escort team, attempting to free him from custody and help him escape.”

Bryan said nothing in immediate response, but his eyes narrowed slightly and his gaze turned noticeably colder.

“After receiving urgent word of the attack and the escape attempt,” Vipor continued in the same emotionless tone, “I personally led a strike team of aurors in pursuit of the fugitives, and fought them.”

His hand unconsciously moved toward the wound on his forehead as he continued. “This injury happened four days ago. I thought that someone would have written to inform you of this incident.”

The fate of the wizard who attempted to escape didn’t need to be asked.

Bryan said with some apology. “As you probably already know, there was some trouble during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Perhaps someone did write to inform me of this incident, but I almost certainly overlooked it.”

Bryan raised his glass in a toast to Vipor, expressing both apology and gratitude. Since it was, he who had originally dragged that criminal organization into the light of public scrutiny and personally arrested the majority of those now facing trial, it was his responsibility to clean up the mess of public outrage, legal complications, and administrative nightmares that followed.

Vipor had indeed done him an enormous favor by taking on this thankless task.

“Hmph,” Vipor snorted with obvious displeasure, though he did lift his own glass in reluctant acknowledgment of Bryan’s belated apology. “You have exactly the same irritating bad habit as Dumbledore’s.”

But then, as if consciously setting aside his personal resentment, Vipor’s entire demeanor shifted subtly. His shoulders straightened slightly, his voice became more focused and professional, and his gaze sharpened as he stared at Bryan with intensity.

“After receiving your letter requesting this meeting,” Vipor said with seriousness, “I made arrangements to handle the most urgent matters, delegated what I could to trusted subordinates, and came here immediately despite my other obligations.”

He leaned forward slightly, his hands clasping together on the table surface. “I too must speak with either you or Dumbledore about matters that cannot wait for more convenient timing.”

Vipor’s voice took on a serious tone. “What exactly is the current situation regarding Igor Karkaroff?”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Bryan replied with perfect emotional neutrality, taking another sip from his glass of Firewhisky. “I’m quite sure you’ve already received official news of that.”

“Of course I know that!”

The fury that had been simmering beneath Vipor’s professional composure suddenly flared up again like a bonfire doused with oil. His voice rose sharply.

“It wasn’t just Karkaroff who perished during those chaotic events, but Barty Crouch as well! This represents a terrible, irreplaceable loss for the British Ministry of Magic and for the international magical community as a whole.

Despite certain questionable stains on his historical record, Barty Crouch was undoubtedly an outstanding wizard and an exceptionally skilled politician, far superior in competence and vision to Cornelius Fudge could ever hope to be.”

Vipor paused, his breathing slightly disordered from the intensity of his outburst. “Now, I understand that I can’t interfere with internal British Ministry affairs regarding Barty Crouch’s death—that’s ultimately your country’s own business to handle as you see fit. However, regarding Igor Karkaroff’s death, don’t you believe you have an obligation to provide some kind of explanation to the international magical community?”

Vipor leaned forward even more aggressively, his sharp gaze fixed intently on Bryan’s eyes with focus.

“Karkaroff wasn’t some anonymous criminal hiding in the sewers of Knockturn Alley, Watson. Igor Karkaroff was the officially appointed headmaster of Durmstrang Institute, one of the most prestigious magical schools in Europe, with hundreds of students under his care and supervision.”

His voice grew harder and more accusatory with each word.

“He died under extremely mysterious circumstances during the Triwizard Tournament project, a project that was specifically advocated, organized, and sponsored by the International Confederation of Wizards.

There isn’t even a recoverable body to examine for evidence of what actually happened to him. Don’t you think there should be some kind of official accounting for this disaster?”

“The British Ministry will undoubtedly provide the Confederation with—” Bryan began in a tactful tone, but Vipor cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand.

“Fudge has already provided his official statement,” Vipor recounted with open contempt for the quality of that explanation.

“According to the Ministry’s public position, a dangerous dark witch named Cliodna who was once arrested by you and the British Ministry but had subsequently escaped from custody, somehow managed to infiltrate Hogwarts School to plot a revenge conspiracy against those responsible for her previous capture.”

Vipor’s tone made it clear exactly how credible he found this explanation.

“The official story claims that Karkaroff heroically sacrificed himself while protecting young wizards who had become caught up in her twisted scheme for vengeance. A touching tale of noble self-sacrifice that would make an excellent adventure novel, if anyone were foolish enough to believe it actually happened that way.”

“You don’t believe the official version?” Bryan asked with a slight, knowing smile.

“We maintain our own intelligence sources within various ministries of magic throughout Europe, Watson,” Vipor replied.

“I received reports about what actually happened at the scene that day, although…” Here he showed the first signs of uncertainty and hesitation since the conversation had begun. “The reports did confirm that it involved Cliodna, but it wasn’t just her acting alone, was it?”

Vipor’s voice dropped tone as he continued.

“There’s that other rumor circulating, the one which your Ministry adamantly denies and refuses to address publicly. So, I’m not entirely certain what to believe, and I need to provide some kind of explanation to the Durmstrang staff members who are demanding answers, as well as to the various ministers and international officials who are asking questions about the Confederation’s responsibility for this disaster.”

“The rumor you heard is absolutely true,” Bryan said with perfect calmness.

“Dumbledore has already made an official statement to the students at Hogwarts,” Bryan continued in the same straightforward tone, “but the Daily Prophet has chosen not to report on that statement, and the Ministry of Magic doesn’t want the general public to believe that this particular rumor reflects actual reality.”

He paused to take another sip of his Firewhisky before adding, “As you’re undoubtedly aware, Minister Fudge unfortunately lacks both the wisdom to understand the true scope of the threat we’re facing and the courage necessary to take appropriate action in response to it.”

Vipor knew that at least thirty percent of his urgent reason for rushing here to meet with Bryan had been to hear him personally confirm or deny this specific piece of intelligence.

The reports from his sources had been consistent but almost too terrible to believe, and he had hoped that direct conversation with Bryan might reveal some alternative explanation that would be less catastrophic.

When he actually received the definitive answer he had been seeking, however, when the last remnants of doubt and uncertainty were stripped away by Bryan’s confirmation, he found himself falling into speechless, stunned silence.

“This truly is a complete disaster,” Vipor finally managed to say after a long period of silence. The words seemed inadequate to express the full scope of his horror and uneasiness, but they were all he could manage.

He leaned back heavily against his chair looking gloomily toward the distant silhouette of Hogwarts Castle. His already exhausted face showed even more signs of age, and his body seemed to shrink and hunch.

Vipor was far too experienced and well-informed to underestimate the threat simply because Voldemort hadn’t significantly affected other countries during his previous period of greatest strength and influence.

He understood well that this apparent restraint had been a victory achieved only through Dumbledore’s complete dedication of heart, soul, and every resource at his disposal to containing the threat within British borders.

Without Dumbledore’s efforts, that Dark Lord who had taken the name Voldemort would never have been content to lord over just the small patch of Britain Isles.

Many facts also showed that this Dark Lord’s methods were appallingly cruel and his magical power despairingly strong.

Now Britain had not only Dumbledore but also the brilliant wizard Bryan Watson. Perhaps they could ultimately bring about Voldemort’s downfall, but certain things would inevitably happen—the British wizarding world would soon face chaos.

Among the many magical civilizations scattered throughout Europe, the British wizarding world was widely acknowledged to be among the strongest and most influential.

The prosperity and stability of European magical society as a whole could not realistically survive without the participation and support of the British magical community.

If chaos erupted in Britain, even if the flames of actual warfare didn’t spread directly to other countries through military action or terrorist attacks, those magical civilizations would still suffer enormous economic, cultural, and political impact.

“You summoned me here today,” Vipor said, his voice suddenly becoming hoarse with exhaustion and the emotional weight of everything they had discussed. He paused to clear his throat before continuing. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

His tired eyes met Bryan’s gaze directly as he continued. “If you’re hoping that I can somehow use my position to publicly proclaim on the international stage that this wizard has indeed returned from the dead, if you want me to break through your own Ministry’s information blockade on this matter by making official statements through Confederation channels, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Watson.”

Vipor’s hands gestured helplessly. “You know, the International Confederation of Wizards can operate and maintain its independence largely because the various national magical ministries provide us with endless streams of funding and personnel support. The Confederation exists only at the pleasure of these national governments, and our authority originates entirely from their continued cooperation.

The economic output and political influence of British magical society is absolutely crucial to many magical civilizations throughout Europe and beyond.”

Vipor paused to take a large gulp of his Firewhisky before delivering the killing blow to any hopes Bryan might have had for international support.

“You understand as well as I do that the British Ministry of Magic holds tremendously high status in all international forums and wields considerable influence over Confederation policies and decisions. If Fudge firmly refuses to let this matter face public scrutiny, if he continues to deny the reality of You-Know-Who’s return and threatens political retaliation against anyone who contradicts the official British position, then I…”

The sentence trailed off into frustrated silence, but the meaning was clear.

“I certainly understand this, Vipor—”

Bryan replied with a knowing smile. “But have you perhaps forgotten that there’s currently a sitting Chairman of the Wizarding Confederation residing right here at Hogwarts? If he himself can’t accomplish what you’re describing, how could I reasonably trouble you with attempting something like that?”

“Then you wanted to see me today in order to—” Vipor began, his brow furrowing with confusion.

“Actually, I wanted to see you to ask—”

Bryan said in a lighthearted tone.

“Would you be interested in taking Karkaroff’s place and becoming the headmaster of Durmstrang?”

————————————

For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep