Arthur and Molly Weasley were undoubtedly poor, yet they had never once seriously considered changing that.
In the future, after Arthur won prize money from The Daily Prophet, he made almost no long-term plans at all. After paying fines and buying new school supplies for the children, he spent every remaining Galleon on a family holiday—travelling to Egypt to visit Bill.
Why could he be so carefree?
Because in the current wizarding world, apart from children's education, there was almost nowhere to spend money.
Food and clothing could be produced with magic. Crops could even harvest themselves—no farm labour required.
Entertainment consisted mostly of newspapers: five Copper Knuts a copy, dirt cheap.
When Harry was in his first year, eleven Silver Sickles could buy an entire trolley of sweets.
Even splurging at a pub cost very little—a large Butterbeer was only two Sickles.
These were essentially the only consumption channels in the wizarding world.
For individuals, such a pressure-free life was certainly comfortable.
But on a societal scale—no pressure meant no motivation.
And a civilization without motivation was never far from stagnation… or extinction.
In this respect, Muggles did things very well.
Capitalists squeezed every last drop of surplus value from people—food, clothing, housing, transport, entertainment—life balanced on a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster, thrilling and exhausting.
As Muggle technology advanced, this only intensified. Consumer electronics pushed desire toward extreme hedonism.
It was, without question, a society becoming distorted.
Yet it was also a society experiencing explosive technological growth.
Under capitalism's pleasure traps, Muggles unleashed astonishing vitality.
Vaughn believed that future was worth studying.
"I came not to bring peace, but a sword…"
Heh.
With a faint smile, Vaughn put the cinema company entirely in William White's hands, with James Brown assisting him.
After all, William wasn't a wizard. A Muggle-born werewolf doing business among wizards could easily be swindled with a single Confundus Charm—and end up counting someone else's money after being sold.
The Twins' Progress
Vaughn returned to the Burrow to "inspect" Fred and George's research.
Ever since Harry Potter and the Painted World was screened for free at Hogwarts, the overwhelming response had filled the twins with regret.
"That was Harry's first film!" they'd wailed. "Such a perfect selling point—and you showed it for free!"
"Even one Knut per person would've been a fortune!"
Obsessed with money, the twins didn't care about publicity. Losing such "income" had seriously dampened their motivation.
So Vaughn casually mentioned the upcoming cinema company.
Instant revival.
In the basement near the Burrow's garden, the previously lethargic twins sprang to life.
"We'll charge tickets, right?"
"Of course."
"And—erm—do we get shares?" Fred asked shyly.
"Absolutely," Vaughn nodded. "Negotiate with William White yourselves. Technical equity—how much you get depends on your ability."
The twins were instantly energised, enthusiastically reporting progress.
"Give us one month! We'll completely solve magical interference with electricity—cheap, mature, usable for wiring, lights, cameras, projectors!"
"And we've got a direction for simulating electricity with magic. Once this is done, we'll start testing!"
Vaughn nodded noncommittally.
Not because he doubted them—on the contrary.
In alchemy, the twins were genuinely talented, arguably more so than Vaughn himself. Their ideas were wild, often brilliant.
Their future Shielding Wear—essentially a permanent Protego—was proof enough.
But Vaughn wanted more than anti-magic coatings or magical power substitutes.
Those were transitional solutions.
What he truly wanted was alchemical technology.
Alchemy evolving like Muggle electronics—into its own technological ecosystem.
Ideas flooded his mind:
Alchemical smartphones based on two-way mirrors
Magical virtual reality built on Legilimency and Pensieves
Even… artificial intelligence derived from the Sorting Hat
All wildly premature—for now.
Preparation and Politics
After motivating his brothers, Vaughn returned to London.
He waited for William's progress and prepared for the WAC's first full assembly at month's end.
The Werewolf Affairs Committee headquarters had finally been chosen.
Due to lycanthropy's nature and lingering prejudice, WAC avoided the wizarding world, settling instead—under Wizengamot assistance—within Muggle society.
After a month of inspections, they selected an office building in west London.
Immigrant-heavy, diverse, inconspicuous—perfect for werewolves and misfits alike.
On the night of July 19, Vaughn hosted a small celebration at the newly registered WAC headquarters.
A declaration of "home."
And a networking event.
In nearby Notting Hill, the old building glowed with lights, music, and laughter—like a carnival.
Vaughn mingled, smiling politely, trading pleasantries no one truly believed.
He felt fake.
But politics was exactly that—embracing the ugly to achieve results.
Barty Crouch and the Mindscape
After midnight, Vaughn dismissed the staff and returned to the top floor.
Only two rooms existed there: a vast meeting hall and the future chairman's office.
Barty Crouch was waiting.
"Done already?" Crouch asked. "How did it go?"
"About as expected," Vaughn shrugged. "Only Travers hinted at voting for me."
Crouch snorted. "Once Travers commits, sunk cost will keep him loyal. The rest are scattered."
Then Crouch grew stern.
"You promised to help my son. How long has it been since you visited?"
…Fair point.
After some banter, Vaughn became serious.
"My personality construct has stalled. Refresh rates can't suppress Dark Magic corruption anymore. The problem lies with the soul."
He looked at Crouch.
"Can I touch that domain yet?"
Crouch was silent, then said quietly:
"Enter my mind."
The Corrupted Sanctuary
They stood in a dark mental void.
"This is the rift between thought and memory," Vaughn explained.
Crouch led him to his inner sanctuary.
Or what remained of it.
Black sludge surged against pale mist, hissing like burning rot.
"My sanctuary," Crouch said calmly. "Destroyed. That white mist is ancient Crouch magic—resisting Dark Magic."
"From controlling your son with the Imperius Curse for ten years," Vaughn murmured.
Crouch nodded.
"If not for that magic, I'd have fallen long ago."
They agreed—Vaughn would learn the spell.
But not yet.
Talent Upgrade and Magical Surge
Later, alone, Vaughn opened his system panel.
Talent Point: 1
Without hesitation, he invested it in Charms.
[Charms 7 → Charms 8]
The change hit instantly.
His thoughts sharpened.
Colours deepened.
Magic boiled.
Furniture levitated.
A familiar phenomenon—
Magical Surge.
Numbers climbed rapidly:
549… 560… 580…
Finally:
[Magical Power: 584]
The Granger House
In the attic, lights flickered wildly.
Hermione rushed in.
"You okay?"
"Just unstable magic."
It took hours to settle.
And then—
Ding-dong.
Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the door.
Trace violation.
Routine check.
Behind him stood a young witch chewing gum.
"Hi! Nymphadora Tonks—call me Tonks!"
Her hair flashed neon colours.
Hermione stared, awestruck.
"A Metamorphmagus," Tonks grinned. "Born this way—you can't learn it."
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