Chapter 116: The Vampire's Goblet, The Prince's Textbook
Christmas Eve.
Professor Slughorn's office, expanded by an Undetectable Extension Charm, had turned into a magnificent ballroom.
Emerald silk curtains hung from the ceiling, and never-extinguishing fairy lights burned inside red lanterns. The air was filled with the scent of expensive cigars, perfume, and that intoxicating aura of power.
This was the 'White-Slug Christmas Party'.
Morrin White, as the exclusive sponsor, occupied the most central position in the ballroom.
He wore a deep purple velvet suit, a golden snake brooch pinned to his collar—a piece of the Slytherin legacy—and held a glass of blood-red wine in his hand.
Beside him, Luna Lovegood was wearing a dress that looked like it was made of layers of silver fish scales, resembling the skin of some deep-sea creature. In reality, it was a high-end item gifted by Morrin. She was happily telling a House-elf a joke about 'goblins' teeth hidden in Christmas pudding.'
"Mr. White."
A tall, pale, Gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes approached.
He held a glass of bright red liquid, his eyes staring hungrily at Luna's fair skin.
Sanguini, a true Vampire, was a rare guest invited by Slughorn.
"Your dance partner... smells very sweet." Sanguini revealed his fangs, his voice raspy.
"Put away your teeth, Sanguini."
Morrin didn't even lift his eyelids, just gently swirled the wine glass in his hand.
[Dragon Might (Blue, Growth Type)]—Targeted release.
A scorching aura, belonging to an apex predator, instantly locked onto the Vampire.
In that instant, Sanguini felt he was not facing a human teenager, but a scorching sun burning.
"She is my 'partner'." Morrin said coldly, "If you dare touch a hair on her head, I will stuff you into that cauldron filled with garlic juice and turn you into a specimen."
The Vampire trembled, retreated in fear, and shrank into a corner to eat meat pies.
"Does he not like me?" Luna asked curiously.
"No, he just suddenly felt like going vegetarian." Morrinsmiled gently.
Just then, Harry Potter squeezed through the crowd.
He looked a bit disheveled, seemingly trying to avoid the girls attempting to cast Love Potions on him.
"Hi, Morrin. Luna." Harry greeted.
"Good evening, the savior." Morrin looked at Harry, his gaze falling on the *Advanced Potion-Making* book stuffed in his robe pocket.
This semester, relying on this old book signed 'Half-Blood Prince,' Harry had shone in Potion Class, even winning Felix Felicis.
"Your Potion Class grades are good this semester, Harry." Morrin said meaningfully, "It seems you've found a... very good 'tutor'."
Harry subconsciously covered his pocket, looking at Morrinvigilantly: "It's just an old book. There are some notes in it."
"Notes?"
Morrin chuckled, leaned close to Harry, and said in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"Harry, have you ever thought about who that 'Half-Blood Prince' is?"
"The person who invented Dark Arts spells like 'Sectumsempra' and had a genius approach to improving Potion..."
Morrin's gaze went past Harry, looking at Severus Snapestanding in the corner, staring at the room with a gloomy face.
"...Perhaps he is right in front of you?"
Harry followed Morrin's gaze and saw Snape's greasy face.
"Snape?! Impossible!" Harry almost shouted, "The owner of that book is a genius! Snape is just a..."
"Prejudice will blind you." Morrin stepped back, "Be careful, Harry. Some spells are poisonous. If you don't want to die inexplicably... it's best not to use them randomly."
Just then, a commotion came from outside the door.
Filch was dragging someone by the ear, dragging him into the ballroom.
"Professor! I caught this one! He tried to break in!"
It was Draco Malfoy.
He looked terrible. Pale, deep eye sockets, clothes somewhat messy, completely lacking the usual demeanor of a young master.
"Let go of me, you filthy Squib!" Malfoy struggled, "I just... I just wanted to come and join the fun!"
The whole room went quiet. Slughorn looked embarrassed.
"Well, well." Slughorn smoothed things over, "Since he's here, he's a guest..."
"Throw him out."
A cold voice sounded.
Morrin White walked out of the crowd and stood in front of Malfoy.
"Morrin..." Malfoy looked at him, a signal for help flashing in his eyes; it was acting, but also real fear.
"Slytherin does not welcome uninvited guests, especially those..."
Morrin used his cane to lift Malfoy's chin, looking at his decadent appearance:
"...those failures who can't even tidy up their own appearance."
"Draco, your recent performance has disappointed me. Your Potion Class grades have dropped, and your mental state is like an addict."
Morrin's voice was stern, like a leader disappointed in someone not living up to potential:
"Get back. Don't appear at my banquet until you've figured out what you should be doing."
Snape walked over.
"I will take him, Mr. White." Snape said coldly, "I happen to have some words for him."
Snape grabbed Malfoy's arm and dragged him out of the room.
Harry watched this scene, his suspicion deepening.
"What are they plotting..." Harry whispered to Hermione, "Malfoy looks like he's having a breakdown. And Snape... I'm going to eavesdrop!"
Harry put on the invisibility cloak and followed quietly.
Morrin watched the place where Harry disappeared, the corners of his mouth curling into a satisfied smile.
"That's it."
Everything was going according to the script.
The more broken Malfoy appeared, the more Harry would suspect him.
And the more Harry stared at Malfoy, the more he would ignore the real problem.
Dumbledore's death countdown.
"Young Master." Alfred appeared silently behind Morrin, "Professor Snape just sent news. Headmaster Dumbledore's hand... has worsened."
"As expected."
Morrin watched the red wine swirling in his hand.
"That curse is irreversible. My Alchemy can only delay, not cure."
"Prepare, Alfred."
A glint flashed in Morrin's eyes:
"After Christmas, I'm going to the ruins of the Gaunthouse."
"The resurrection stone ring has already been taken by Dumbledore and the Horcrux part destroyed, but he left that piece there or has already hidden it in the golden snitch."
"I need to go confirm..."
Morrin touched the [time-turner] in his pocket.
"...whether the second deathly hallows can really pull the souls of the dead back from that world."
"After all..."
Morrin looked at Luna beside him; she was staring blankly at the mistletoe on the ceiling.
"...some people, like Luna's mother, might deserve a 'return ticket'."
Chapter 117: Black Residue in the Ruins, The Bezoar Bill
January, Little Hangleton.
Snowstorms.
Morrin White stood before the ruins of the Gaunt shack.
Only a few rotten pillars and rubble remained, covered in heavy snow, looking desolate and eerie.
"This is the home of Lord Voldemort's mother."
Morrin used his black ironwood wand to brush away the snow, revealing the scorched earth beneath.
Although the ring, which served as a Horcrux, had already been taken by Dumbledore, intense and sickening Dark Arts radiation remained here.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Trace Backtracking.
In Morrin's vision, the magical particles remaining in the air began to recombine.
He seemed to see the scene where Dumbledore had broken the curse at this location, and saw how that withered black hand had been entangled with death.
"High-level Wither Curse." Morrin squatted down and collected a bit of black soil in an alchemy vial. "Fused with Lord Voldemort's hatred for lineage and fear of death. A very good sample."
He stood up and dusted his hands.
The resurrection stone was gone.
But that didn't matter.
He had already confirmed the flavor of that "Law."
"As long as Dumbledore is still wearing that ring, the resurrection stone won't be able to escape."
Morrin turned and left the ruins.
"Let's go, Alfred. Back to school."
"Recently, a kind of pink 'poison' seems to be popular at Hogwarts—love Potion. I need to go back and see if my Potion orders have been snatched up."
March 1st, Ron's birthday.
Hogwarts, Slughorn's office.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, but the atmosphere was not relaxed.
Harry Potter had just brought Ron, who had accidentally ingested chocolates containing a powerful love Potion, here.
Ron was currently acting like a lovesick fool, hugging a cushion, shouting Romilda Vane's name with a flushed face.
"Oh, youth." Slughorn chuckled, preparing an antidote. "Just one cup of specially made pick-me-up, and he will forget that girl."
Ron drank the antidote and finally sobered up, followed by a wave of immense shame.
"To celebrate your birthday, and also to calm your nerves." Slughorn took a dusty bottle of wine from the cabinet. "How about some of this? Oak-aged mead. I had intended to give it to Dumbledore..."
Harry looked at the bottle.
He remembered Hermione saying that Malfoy was buying some kind of cursed necklace. His intuition told him this wine was wrong, but he had no proof.
Slughorn uncorked the bottle and poured three glasses.
"Cheers!"
Just as Ron raised the glass and was about to drink, Bang!
The office door was kicked open.
There was no knocking, nor any polite greeting.
Morrin White strode in, his black trench coat bringing a cold gust of wind.
The black ironwood wand in his hand was like a bolt of black lightning, instantly striking the wine glass from Ron's hand.
Crash!
The glass shattered on the floor.
The amber liquid splashed onto the carpet, emitting a hair-raising hissing sound. The carpet was instantly corroded, creating a black hole and emitting pungent, poisonous smoke.
Silence filled the room.
Ron stared stiffly at the black hole on the floor, his face turning even whiter than before.
If he had drunk that wine...
"Poison!" Harry shouted, drawing his wand.
Slughorn sat on the floor in fright, dropping the wine bottle, spilling more poisonous wine.
"Who?! Who poisoned my wine?!" the old walrus screamed in terror.
"That remains to be seen from the source of this wine, Professor."
Morrin retracted his wand, staring coldly at the foam on the floor.
"Powerful mixed poison. Not only highly toxic, but also mixed with a curse that simply cannot be undone."
He turned his head to look at Harry:
"It seems your intuition was right, Potter. Someone wants to kill Dumbledore. And Mr. Weasley..."
Morrin glanced at the still-shivering Ron:
"...is just an unlucky'side effect'."
"It's Malfoy!" Harry roared angrily. "I know it's him! He's fixing that cabinet in the Room of Requirement! He wants to kill us!"
Morrin did not refute it.
Because it was indeed Malfoy's doing.
Although Morrin had told him to "act," the pressure on the kid was too great, coupled with the pressure from Lord Voldemort, and he had actually procured a bottle of poisoned wine, attempting to send it to Dumbledorethrough Slughorn.
"This is a serious 'production accident'." Morrin cursed Malfoy's stupidity in his heart.
If Ron had really been poisoned to death, the Order of the Phoenix would have gone crazy, which would not be conducive to him doing business in the middle.
"Saving lives is the priority."
Morrin took a black, stone-like object from his pocket.
A bezoar.
"Although he didn't drink it, inhaling the poisonous gas is also harmful."
Morrin shoved the bezoar into Ron's mouth.
"Keep it in your mouth. This is a top-grade bezoar from White Pharmaceuticals; it can neutralize the toxins in the air."
Ron held the stone in his mouth, looking at Morrin with tears of gratitude. He had been saved again.
One hour later, the corridor.
Professor McGonagall and Snape arrived.
They sealed the office and took away the poisoned wine.
Harry stood in the corridor, staring fixedly at Morrin.
"You knew all along, didn't you?" Harry asked. "You knew it was Malfoy. You've been shielding him."
"I am managing him."
Morrin stopped, turned his head, his eyes indifferent:
"Harry, if I handed Malfoy over now, he would go to Azkaban. And then what? Lord Voldemort would send another, crazier, more hidden assassin. Perhaps next time, the one poisoned would be Hermione, or Ginny."
"Keeping Malfoy around, at least I know what he's doing. This is called risk control."
"That's attempted murder!" Harry yelled.
"As long as no one is dead, it's just 'attempted'." Morrinadjusted his gloves. "Besides, this incident has given us a very good excuse."
"What excuse?"
"Strengthening security."
Morrin looked out the window.
"I will use this as a reason to apply to the Board of Governors to have my Werewolf Guard officially take over the Hogwarts kitchens and logistics channels. From now on, all food and drinks must be tested by 'White Security' before being served."
"You see, Harry."
Morrin's mouth curled up, revealing that infuriating smile:
"Every crisis is a business opportunity."
Harry looked at him, feeling a deep sense of powerlessness.
On Morrin's chessboard, even assassination and poison were just bargaining chips for expanding his territory.
Slytherin dungeon, late night.
Draco Malfoy knelt before Morrin, crying with snot and tears.
"I... I was just too scared... The Dark Lord said if I didn't do it, he would kill my mother..."
Morrin sat in a chair, holding the wand that had been stained with poisoned wine, sterilizing it with alchemy flames.
"Fool."
Morrin scolded coldly.
"I told you to 'act,' not to actually kill anyone. Do you think Dumbledore is a fool?"
"If Ron Weasley had died today, do you know what the consequences would be?"
Morrin stood up and kicked Malfoy on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
"Arthur Weasley would go crazy, the Order of the Phoenixwould launch an all-out war, and my business would be severely affected."
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Malfoy curled up on the ground.
"One last time, Draco."
Morrin squatted down, grabbed Malfoy's hair, and forced him to look into his eyes:
"Focus on fixing your cabinet. Stop doing these little tricks."
Although it was already fixed, he had to pretend to be fixing it.
"That night... is almost here."
Morrin let go, stood up, and looked at the calendar on the wall.
"When that time comes, I will let you see with your own eyes what a real regicide is."
"It's time to go and see Dumbledore off."
Chapter 118: The vanishing cabinet's Toll, the Last Supper
June 30th, Dusk.
The air at Hogwarts was muggy and heavy, the low pressure before a storm making it hard to breathe.
Harry Potter was hurrying through the entrance hall, clutching his invisibility cloak tightly in his hand.
He had just received a note from Dumbledore: tonight, they were going to search for the Horcrux hidden in the sea cave.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry, Mr. Savior?"
A voice caused him to brake hard.
Morrin White stood in the shadows of the marble staircase, holding his golden pocket watch as if counting down.
"Morrin?" Harry looked at him warily. "I have urgent business. Dumbledore is waiting for me."
"I know he's waiting for you."
Morrin closed the pocket watch and walked up to Harry.
He was dressed exceptionally formally today, as if preparing to attend a grand funeral.
"You're going to that cave, right? To get slytherins locket."
"How do you..." Harry started to ask, then immediately shut his mouth.
In front of this man, secrets seemed meaningless.
"Save your energy, Harry."
Morrin pulled a plain-looking, rusty fake locket from his pocket.
"No need to go. That one is a fake."
"What?!" Harry's eyes widened.
"The real locket was recovered by me from Grimmauld Place two years ago," Morrin said flatly, as if mentioning he'd picked up some trash. "The soul inside has been drained by me and turned into my alchemical fuel. Now, that cave only contains a basin of disgusting poison and a worthless imitation."
Harry's head spun. "Then why didn't you tell Dumbledore?!"
"Because this is a 'necessary process.'"
Morrin's gaze became deep.
"Dumbledore needs this 'mission' to complete his final curtain call. He needs to drink that poison to weaken himself, making the 'plan' look natural."
"If he were at full strength now, Malfoy and Snapewouldn't have a chance to act. And if they don't act, the 'Unbreakable Vow' will kill Snape."
"If Snape dies, who will be the mole by Lord Voldemort's side? Who will protect you?"
Harry felt a chill run through his body.
"You mean... Dumbledore will... tonight..."
"He's doing it willingly, Harry." Morrin patted Harry's shoulder. "This is the ending he chose. A self-sacrifice for the greater good."
"Take this."
Morrin handed Harry a bottle of golden potion.
"[Powerful Antidote - Modified]. After he finishes drinking the poison in that cave, pour this down his throat. It will clear his head a bit, at least enough to give him the strength to finish his last words."
Harry held the potion bottle, his hands trembling.
"You've arranged everything..." "I'm just managing risks."
Morrin turned and walked toward the dungeons.
"Go, Harry. Accompany that old man on his final journey. As for the school..."
A flash of severity crossed Morrin's eyes.
"...I will take care of receiving those 'uninvited guests'."
...Late at night, eighth floor, Room of Requirement.
Draco Malfoy stood before the massive black vanishing cabinet, his whole body shaking like a leaf.
His face was deathly pale, and he held the 'Hand of Glory' for light.
"It's time, Draco."
Morrin White sat on an old sofa atop a pile of junk, holding a glass of red wine like an aristocrat watching a play.
"Open it."
Malfoy swallowed hard and tremblingly chanted the spell.
"Har-Harmonia Nectere Passus..."
The cabinet door gave a low hum and then slowly opened.
A cold burst of black mist surged out.
Immediately after, a pale hand gripped the edge of the cabinet door.
Bellatrix Lestrange's crazed face appeared first, followed closely by Fenrir Greyback, the Werewolf leader, Alecto Carrow, and several other vicious Death Eaters.
They were finally in.
Hogwarts' defenses had been breached from within.
"Hahahaha!" Bellatrix let out a shrill, manic laugh. "We're in! Where's Dumbledore? I'm going to kill him!"
"Quiet, Bella."
A cool voice interrupted her revelry.
The Death Eaters whipped their heads around, their wands pointing in unison at Morrin atop the junk pile.
"White?!" Bellatrix gritted her teeth. "What are you doing here? Trying to be a hero?"
"I'm here to collect the 'toll'."
Morrin stood up from the sofa, his black ironwood wandtracing an elegant arc in the air.
[Gate of Truth] — Spatial Seal.
Although he didn't seal the exit, he locked down the surrounding objects to prevent these lunatics from blowing up the room; this was his warehouse, after all.
"Everyone."
Morrin looked down at the intruders from his height.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am the Chairman of the Board of Governors here, Morrin White."
"I have a few rules I expect you to follow."
Greyback let out a roar, baring his yellow fangs. "Rules? I want meat! I want to crush the students' bones!"
He lunged at Malfoy, who was closest to him.
"Kneel."
Morrin merely flicked an eyelid.
[Dragon Might (Blue, Growth Type)] — Directional Suppression.
Boom!
Greyback felt as if a mountain had been dropped on his back. Before he could even touch Malfoy, his knees buckled, and he slammed heavily onto the floor, cracking the tiles.
"I said, rules."
Morrin's figure vanished instantly, reappearing the next second in front of Greyback, his foot stepping firmly on the Werewolf's head, pinning him to the ground.
"First, the Castle's maintenance costs are very high. No large-scale destruction of public property."
"Second, no indiscriminate killing of students. They are all my potential customers."
"Third, your only target is Dumbledore."
Morrin looked up at Bellatrix.
"Understood? You madwoman."
Bellatrix gripped her wand so hard her knuckles turned white.
She wanted to kill him, wanted to kill this arrogant brat.
But she remembered Lord Voldemort's command: 'Do not touch Morrin White unless he acts first. I still have a use for him.'
"Go!" Bellatrix shrieked. "To the Astronomy Tower! The dark mark has already risen!"
The Death Eaters bypassed Morrin and rushed out of the Room of Requirement.
Malfoy remained where he was, his legs too weak to move.
"Draco."
Morrin gave him a nudge with his foot.
"Follow them. This is your stage. Remember what I taught you—it's a performance. You don't need to actually kill anyone; you just need to hold your wand, tremble, cry, and show your struggle."
"Snape will take over everything at the final moment."
"Go."
Malfoy took a deep breath, picked up his fallen wand, and stumbled after them.
Morrin stood alone in the empty Room of Requirement.
He tidied the tip of his shoe that Greyback had dirtied.
"Alfred."
"I'm here, Young Master," the butler's voice came through the two-way mirror.
"Notify all D.A. members. Tell them... the practical exercise has begun."
"Have them intercept any straggling Death Eaters. As for the Astronomy Tower..."
Morrin looked out the window. There, a massive green skull was floating above the tower—the summons of death.
"...We don't need to interfere there."
"That is a farewell ceremony between two great Wizards."
Morrin walked out of the room, heading toward the Astronomy Tower.
But he was in no hurry.
He walked slowly, as if passing through a corridor leading to a new era.
Because he knew that once tonight passed, once that white-bearded old man fell from the tower... the old order would completely collapse.
And the 'Black Gold Era' belonging to Morrin White would officially arrive.
"Goodbye, Albus," Morrin said softly, looking at the mark. "Rest assured, I will manage Hogwarts well. Better than when you were here."
Chapter 119: Falling Stars, The Werewolf's Breach of Contract Penalty
Midnight.
At the top of the Astronomy Tower, the green dark mark, like the skull of Death, emitted a faint, chilling light in the night sky.
Morrin White did not ascend to the top of the tower.
He stood in the shadows of the lawn below the tower, head tilted upward, his [True Sight] penetrating layers of stone walls, clearly capturing everything happening at the top.
He saw Draco trembling, saw Dumbledore, though weak, still attempting to use this to preserve Draco's soul.
He saw the other Death Eaters clamoring.
Finally, he saw Severus Snape rush to the top of the tower.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding green light illuminated the entire night sky.
In that instant, even Morrin could not help but hold his breath.
The old man who had guarded Hogwarts like a Giant for half a century was struck by the spell, his body flying backward like a kite with a broken string, falling slowly and powerlessly.
Thud.
It wasn't a very loud sound.
Albus Dumbledore's body fell onto the grass at the foot of the tower, limbs splayed, those cerulean eyes still open, but devoid of any luster.
"It's over."
Morrin closed his eyes and sighed softly.
He felt no sorrow, only the solemnity of witnessing the wheels of history rolling over.
"It is also a beginning."
Morrin opened his eyes again, golden light flashing and vanishing in his pupils.
"Now, this school... is completely under my control."
...
Castle corridor, melee.
The Death Eaters rushed down from the tower like madmen; they were reveling, destroying.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were fighting back desperately.
The training results of the D.A. were showing; using the [Alchemy Shield] and [Stupefy] provided by Morrin, they were surprisingly managing to hold off this group of vicious adult Dark Wizards.
Until Fenrir Greyback rushed out.
This bloodthirsty Werewolf leader did not abide by Morrin's "rules."
He saw Bill Weasley, and that craving for fresh meat made him lose control.
"Fresh meat!" Greyback roared, pouncing on Bill and biting into Bill's face.
"Ah—!!!" Bill screamed and fell to the ground.
"Hahahaha!" Greyback, his mouth full of blood, prepared for a second bite.
"I remember saying, damaging my 'assets' at will is forbidden."
A voice as cold as a hellish wind exploded in the corridor.
Greyback's movements froze.
He turned his head abruptly and saw Morrin Whitestanding at the end of the corridor, holding that black ironwood wand which was dripping with blood of unknown origin.
"White!" A flash of fear crossed Greyback's eyes, but it was immediately drowned out by bloodlust. "Dumbledore is dead! The Dark Lord has won! Your rules no longer apply!"
"Is that so?"
Morrin's figure vanished instantly.
[Half-Giant Speed].
The next second, he appeared in front of Greyback.
He did not use his wand, but instead reached out with his dragon-hide gloved right hand, grabbed Greyback by the throat, and lifted the two-hundred-pound Werewolf off the ground with one hand!
"Ugh—!" Greyback struggled desperately, his sharp claws raking at Morrin's arm, but they couldn't even tear Morrin's trench coat.
"Contract breakers must pay liquidated damages."
Morrin looked into Greyback's bloodshot eyes.
"Since you like biting people so much..."
Morrin's left hand swung the wand violently, and a sharp mithril spike popped out from the tip.
"...Then I shall confiscate your teeth."
Pfft!
The wand stabbed fiercely into Greyback's mouth.
Accompanied by a dull cracking sound and a shrill whimper, all the Fangs in Greyback's mouth were forcibly smashed.
"Get out."
Morrin flicked his hand, tossing the blood-covered, unconscious Greyback out the window like trash.
"If you don't want to die, take your people and get out of my Castle."
The remaining Death Eaters, Alecto Carrow and the others, were scared out of their wits.
This kid was too ruthless! Even more ruthless than the Death Eaters!
They didn't dare to continue fighting and scrambled toward the main gate.
...
Edge of the grounds, near Hagrid's hut.
Harry was chasing Snape.
"Coward! You killed him! If you're a man, fight me!" Harryroared, continuously casting hexes.
Snape easily deflected all the spells; his face was twisted, full of pain and anger.
"Don't—call—me—a—coward!"
Snape waved his wand, knocking Harry to the ground.
Just as he was about to leave, he saw Morrin standing in the shadows at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Snape's footsteps faltered.
The two looked at each other across the burning Hagrid's hut.
Morrin did not move to stop him; he just nodded slightly and made a "please" gesture.
"Well done, Severus. Go complete your undercover mission."
Snape understood that look.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the despair surging in his heart, turned, and taking the already broken Draco Malfoy with him, vanished into the darkness via Apparition.
Morrin watched them disappear.
Then, he walked over to Harry, who had fallen to the ground.
Harry lay on the grass, weeping bitterly. He had lost his last protector.
"Get up, Harry."
Morrin did not help him up, just said coldly.
"Dumbledore is dead. But that doesn't mean you are dead too."
"Look at who that is." Morrin pointed not far away; Hagridwas rushing out of the burning hut, Fang barking wildly.
"Your friends are still fighting. Bill Weasley is seriously injured. If you only know how to cry here, then you have truly failed that old man's sacrifice."
Harry raised his head, his face covered in tears and mud.
"Morrin... Snape... he is a traitor..."
"I know." Morrin squatted down and pulled a golden locket from his pocket—the real Slytherin locket, already purified.
"Take this."
"What?"
"A reminder."
Morrin stuffed the locket into Harry's hand:
"Dumbledore's task for you was to find the Horcrux, right? He drank the poison in that cave and exchanged it for a fake. That made him very desperate."
"But you can tell his spirit in heaven..."
Morrin stood up, looking at the burning flames:
"...The real Horcrux has already been recovered by us."
"This is war, Harry. In war, only those who survive have the right to grieve."
"Go back to the Castle. It needs a... leader."
Harry clutched the cold locket, looking at Morrin's indifferent profile.
He suddenly stopped crying.
An unprecedented hardness grew in his heart.
He climbed up, wiped away his tears, and ran toward the Castle.
...
A few days later, Dumbledore's funeral.
A white tomb stood by the Black Lake.
People from the entire Wizarding world had come.
Morrin White was wearing a solemn black suit, standing on the outermost edge of the crowd.
He didn't go to squeeze into the front, but stood under a beech tree, watching the white coffin slowly close.
"He was a great Wizard." Lupin stood beside Morrin, his eyes red. "He gave me a job, gave me dignity."
"Yes." Morrin nodded. "He was a respectable opponent, and also... not too bad a business partner."
"What now?" Lupin asked. "The Order of the Phoenix has lost its leader, the Ministry of Magic is in chaos. Lord Voldemort will be acting openly soon."
Morrin turned around, with his back to the funeral scene.
"Next, it is 'my turn'."
Morrin took a list out of his pocket.
It was the "White Group Wartime Mobilization Order."
"Notify all factories to run at full capacity. Protective gear, antidotes, alchemical weapons... I want to fill the inventory."
"Notify The Daily Prophet to start serializing 'A Survival Guide Under the Dark Lord's Tyranny,' create anxiety, and promote our products."
"Notify Sirius, tell him to raise the protection level of Number 12, Grimmauld Place to the maximum. That will be the last fortress of the Order of the Phoenix."
Morrin gripped his wand tightly, his eyes flickering with an ambition never seen before:
"Although Dumbledore is dead, the vacuum he left behind must be filled by someone."
"Lord Voldemort wants to rule the world?"
Morrin sneered, looking at the Dementors circling in the sky in the distance.
"He'll have to ask me, the world's largest creditor, if I agree first."
Chapter 120: The Minister's Last Supper, The Rejected Requisition Order
July 31st, the eve of Harry Potter's birthday.
The night in London was sultry and humid.
The streets of the Muggle world were sparse with pedestrians, and the air was thick with an indescribable, terrifying atmosphere.
The news was still scrolling about the collapse of the Brockdale Bridge.
White Tower was located on the top floor of London's financial district.
Morrin White was sitting behind an exaggeratedly long obsidian desk, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window behind him, overlooking the night view of all London.
He was wearing a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, signing a document regarding the "Security Upgrade for Gringotts Underground Vaults."
"Young Master, the guest has arrived." Alfred's voice came from the doorway.
"Let him in." Morrin did not even look up.
The door opened.
Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minister for Magic, strode in.
He looked terrible; his lion-like mane had become gray and messy, his face was etched with deep wrinkles, and his yellowish-brown eyes were bloodshot, revealing a desperate ruthlessness.
He leaned on a cane, followed by two nervous-looking Aurors.
"Good evening, Minister." Morrin put down his quill, interlaced his fingers, and said, "Visiting so late, it seems the situation has deteriorated to the point where even you cannot sleep?"
"Cut the crap, White."
Scrimgeour did not sit down, instead slamming a document stamped with the purple seal of the Ministry of Magic onto the desk.
"This is the 'Wartime Emergency Supplies Requisition Order'."
Scrimgeour's voice was hoarse and authoritative:
"In view of the current state of emergency, the Ministry of Magic has decided to legally requisition all factories under 'White Heavy Industries' that produce wolfsbane potionand offensive Alchemy items such as defensive cloaks."
The office was deathly silent.
Alfred adjusted his monocle, his hand quietly reaching for the holster at his waist.
Morrin looked at the document without getting angry.
He even smiled, smiling as if he were looking at an ignorant child.
"Requisition?"
Morrin extended a finger and gently pushed the document back.
"Mr. Minister, I think you have misunderstood something."
"Even in a wartime state, the inviolability of private property is the cornerstone of a commercial society. What is the difference between your current behavior and those Death Eaters who break into people's homes to rob them?"
"This is for the survival of the wizarding world!" Scrimgeour roared, his cane striking the floor heavily, "Lord Voldemort is recruiting! If we don't have enough equipment, how can we win?!"
"That is your problem, not mine."
Morrin stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and turned his back to Scrimgeour.
"My factories are legal commercial institutions. You can place an order, and I will give you a five percent discount. But if you want to get something for nothing..."
Morrin turned around, his eyes instantly becoming cold and biting:
"...Even if you are the Minister, I can have Gringotts freeze all the Ministry of Magic's accounts by tomorrow morning, leaving your Aurors unable to even collect their wages."
"You dare threaten the government?!" The Aurors behind Scrimgeour drew their wands.
Click.
There was no light from spells.
Only a few crisp sounds of mechanical chambering.
Out of the shadows of the room walked four Werewolfbodyguards wearing black tactical vests.
In their hands, they held not wands, but large-caliber alchemical firearms modified by Alchemy.
The dark muzzles were pointed at Scrimgeour's head.
"This is not called a threat; this is called deterrence," Morrinsaid indifferently.
Scrimgeour stared at Morrin, his chest heaving violently.
After a long while, he waved his hand, signaling the Aurors to put away their wands.
"White..." Scrimgeour's voice softened, carrying a hint of pleading, "We need help. Harry Potter... he is the only hope. I still have to go to The Burrow tonight to read Dumbledore's will. If you could..."
"I don't care what Dumbledore left for Harry."
Morrin walked back to the table, took a black business card from the drawer, and handed it to Scrimgeour.
"But I can give you a piece of advice, Minister."
Morrin looked at this old lion who was about to reach his end, a flicker of imperceptible pity flashing in his eyes.
"Your time is running out."
"Death Eaters have already infiltrated the upper echelons of the Ministry of Magic. Your current persistence is like building a Castle on the beach."
"This business card is for the White Family's 'Estate Trust Service'."
Morrin stuffed the business card into Scrimgeour's breast pocket:
"If you unfortunately... die in the line of duty, I can help you properly handle your affairs and protect your family from being purged. In exchange, I need you to hand over the key to the 'Auror Secret Intelligence Network' held by the Ministry of Magic."
"You think I will die?" Scrimgeour stared with wide eyes.
"Everyone dies, Minister," Morrin said softly, "The difference is whether the death has value."
"If, when Lord Voldemort points his wand at your throat and demands the whereabouts of Harry Potter, you can keep your mouth shut..."
Morrin gave a salute:
"...then I will hold the grandest funeral for you for free."
Scrimgeour looked at Morrin, and in that instant, he seemed to see his own end in the young man's eyes.
He did not speak again, nor did he mention the requisition again.
He gave Morrin a deep look, turned, and left with the Aurors.
Watching Scrimgeour's retreating back, Morrin sighed.
"A tough guy. Pity, he doesn't know how to adapt."
"Alfred."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Notify the factories to enter'Silent Mode.' Transfer all core production lines to that safe house protected by the Fidelius Charm."
Morrin looked out the window.
"If I haven't miscalculated, tomorrow... the Ministry of Magic is going to change."
...
The next day, The Burrow.
A grand wedding was being held here.
The wedding of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour.
White tents, golden chairs, and guests dressed in their finest.
Harry had taken Polyjuice Potion and turned into a red-haired relative of the Weasley family, sitting next to Ron.
"Look! Who is that?" Ron pointed at the sky in surprise.
A luxurious carriage pulled by four black Thestrals descended from the sky, landing steadily on the grass.
The carriage door opened, and Morrin White stepped out.
He was not wearing traditional robes, but a meticulously tailored silver-gray suit, with a white rose pinned to his chest.
"Why is he here?" Hermione said nervously, "Doesn't he dislike these kinds of occasions?"
Morrin walked straight to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and handed over an exquisite gift box.
"Happy wedding, Mrs. Weasley," Morrin smiled, "This is a small token of my regard."
Mrs. Weasley opened the box, looking somewhat flattered.
Inside, there were no gold or jewels, but a small-looking, folded tent.
"This is?"
"[White Heavy Industries · Wilderness Survival Shelter (Supreme Edition)]."