At that moment, the hundred-odd people seated in the hall fell silent the instant Vaughn began to speak.
They watched him, stared at him, scrutinized the child.
Vaughn paid those gazes no heed. His eyes passed over Fudge's stiff smile, swept across the crowd, and turned toward the snow-covered street beyond the hall's lavish floor-to-ceiling windows.
He was telling a story—a story that had truly happened.
"Many people have wondered why I developed the Wolfsbane Potion. I have never answered, because I didn't know how to explain it to others. Don't misunderstand me—I was only worried that you wouldn't be able to understand!"
The podium amplified his voice and carried it to every ear in the hall.
By the doors, Dumbledore, who had been absent for a long time, was standing there at some unknown point. He held the Elder Wand, its tip casually resting against the glass as nearly imperceptible ripples spread outward in rings.
The glass, along with the hall itself—an alchemical marvel—silently opened a gap, carrying the sound waves outside.
"I was about six years old then. One day, I saw a document my father had brought home. It was a document from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures requesting an interdepartmental personnel transfer. They needed new staff to work in two of its subordinate divisions: the Beast Division and the Being Division..."
Vaughn paused. Among the crowd, some people still looked confused. A few Ministry of Magic officials had realized what Vaughn was about to say, but their faces were full of puzzlement, as if they could not understand why he had brought this up.
Vaughn lowered his eyes. "They needed new staff for the Werewolf Registry and the Werewolf Capture Unit under the Beast Division, as well as the Werewolf Support