Vaughn Weasley was an ambitious man.
William had known this for a long time.
Having once mingled in the Vanity Fair of fame and power, the first time he heard Vaughn was forming WAC, he saw through the boy's inner ambition immediately.
But William didn't mind.
Or rather, given his and the werewolf drifters' situation at the time, what other choice did they even have?
No matter what Vaughn Weasley's ultimate goal was, at the very least, he was willing to develop Wolfsbane Potion for werewolves, willing to give them a stable life—a life with dignity, like real people!
That was more important than anything else.
Besides, Vaughn was a genius.
A genius in potion-making. A genius wizard, too!
To serve a wizard with such power and vision—there was no shame in that.
After asking about the arbitrage trade and clearing up his doubts, William fell silent. He knew that if Vaughn had brought him out alone, it was likely because he had something to instruct.
Sure enough, Vaughn led him into another private room. With a casual wave—no wand, no incantation—William, with his enhanced senses from the werewolf curse, could feel a magical barrier spread out over the room, sealing off all sound.
Instinctively, William compared Vaughn's silent spellcasting to that of other werewolf wizards he had seen.
His attitude grew even more respectful.
After a brief silence, Vaughn spoke:
"Going forward, Remus, Barnell, and James will be in charge of managing the Muggles and their precious metals operations. As for you, I'll give you a batch of Galleons. Take that money and go to the black market. I want you to buy me some werewolves and vampires."
The words sounded shocking. Human trafficking—ugly as the term was—had just been spoken, openly and without shame, by the boy in front of him.
If it had been Lupin here, he would've been appalled, perhaps even tried to stop it at all costs.
But William's expression didn't change. He asked calmly, "Sir, do you have any specific requirements?"
Vaughn was just as calm. "The werewolves need to be physically strong. I'm starting development on version two of the Wolfsbane Potion, and I'll need enough test subjects. The trials might get... intense, and I'm worried weaker bodies won't survive. So the more, the better."
"You can offer bounties, get dark wizards to capture Greyback's gang. Or smuggle them from abroad. I don't care about the channel. Just try to target the ones with a bad reputation."
In other words, if he couldn't find enough criminals, even ordinary foreign werewolves weren't off the table.
William silently memorized the requirements and nodded. "Understood. What about the vampires?"
Vaughn began pacing, lost in thought.
After a long while, he asked William, "What do you think is the werewolves' position in the world today?"
William was taken aback. After a moment of hesitation, he answered truthfully, "Isolated. Rejected. Whether in Muggle society or the magical world, we are an invisible, marginalized group."
It was a common fact—he didn't understand why Vaughn was asking.
But then, Vaughn shook his head. "No. In my eyes, werewolves have immense potential."
"...Sir..."
Seeing William hesitate to speak, Vaughn raised a hand. "I'm not talking about your combat abilities, nor am I just hoping to develop a better Wolfsbane Potion that allows controlled transformation. I mean something else—another trait you possess. You can sense magic."
Snap!
Vaughn snapped his fingers. Waves of magical ripples spread through the air.
William's eyes followed those ripples as Vaughn continued, "As a group, if werewolves want a better future, you have to find your place. You have to prove your value."
Vaughn wouldn't have spoken this way to other werewolves—but William was different. Once a top-tier Muggle professional, he had enough intellect and perspective to stay rational and weigh pros and cons.
"Today's world is one of magical and Muggle duality. To me, that's a fragmented model. Since the late 17th century, the two ruling groups—wizards and Muggles—have split into parallel lines... William, don't you think that's a flawed arrangement?"
As he twirled his fingers, stirring the air into ripples, Vaughn grew more immersed in his thoughts.
"Wizards possess incredible magic. They can make a field of wheat sprout, grow, mature, and harvest overnight. They can make vegetables grow bigger than houses. In the wizarding world, hunger doesn't exist."
"But the Muggle world has something else—people. And you, as someone who's done business before, know this: population equals market. Only with a large enough population can you sustain a large enough market. And with that scale comes room for more... 'labor'."
"Right now, werewolves are surplus labor. You can't create value because the magical world is too small to absorb you. It's not just fear of lycanthropy—it's because with magic, production is always in surplus, while consumption hasn't changed. Wizards can't use up what they make. To the magical world, you're... superfluous."
"I've always wondered—why can't wizards channel this excess productivity into the Muggle world? There are problems, of course. The biggest one: most magical items are unusable by Muggles. Especially potions."
As Vaughn paced and talked, sweat beaded on William's forehead.
Combining this with what he now understood about werewolf traits... he had a faint guess what Vaughn might be planning. He wiped the sweat away and kept listening.
"...This problem vexed me. How could I make magic benefit more people?"
He smiled, brightly. "I've been searching for the answer since I was eight. And last year, when I began developing the Wolfsbane Potion, I truly understood the essence of lycanthropy. The werewolf virus... it's amazing. A bloodline curse that exists in viral form, unknown for how many centuries. It brings pain—but also gives werewolves a sliver of magic."
"That tiny bit of magic makes them different from Muggles. It may not be enough to cast spells—but it does allow them to use potions. Use alchemical tools!"
"And to achieve this change? All it takes is a single bite from a werewolf. William... imagine if all Muggles became werewolves…"
William's face went pale.
The look he gave Vaughn was filled with fear. For the first time, he felt the boy before him was... mad.
Not in a delusional or emotional way—but in that cold, calculating madness that discards rules, norms, and morality, and sees everything in terms of logic, benefit, and cost.
He couldn't stay silent anymore.
"Sir—what about the Statute of Secrecy?!"
"…"
Vaughn stopped walking and turned slightly to look at William. There was a hint of displeasure at the interruption, but also a trace of contemplation. A moment later, he smiled.
"Sorry, just kidding. Of course I wouldn't allow uncontrolled spread of lycanthropy. Not until I've fully understood the virus."
"…"
Fear. That was all William felt.
Vaughn realized he'd gotten carried away.
Exploring the secrets of magic was a monumental endeavor. To fulfill it, he needed to reshape the world to match his vision.
He had countless theories. Most of the time, he never shared them—he knew others wouldn't understand. It would only create unnecessary conflict.
Just now, with William taking on the "dirty work" of trafficking, he'd let a bit too much slip.
Seeing William still pale and shaken, Vaughn clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. "Don't worry. Just ideas. For now, I'm still focused on research. Asking you to get vampires is part of that—based on the legends, their infection method is similar to werewolves. Likely also a mix of virus and curse... By the way, have you ever seen a vampire?"
William wiped more sweat. "No. They're rare in England. I've looked into it before—they're mostly concentrated in the Balkans and Central Europe."
That aligned with Vaughn's own research. Vampires were indeed rare in Britain.
"Keep this task in mind. Observe the black market—look for reputable dark wizard gangs…"
He paused. Are there even any "reputable" dark wizards?
With a sigh, he added, "In short, just do your best to catch some for me."
He began to wonder—should he make a trip to the Balkans?
That region had always been a hotbed for dark magic and dark wizards. Creatures like werewolves and vampires—transformed humans—may have all originated there.
Maybe, in ancient times, the entire Balkans was a massive experimental zone for dark wizards?
As Vaughn pondered, William quickly jotted down the instructions.
After thinking for a bit longer, Vaughn waved a hand. "That's all."
William let out a small breath. The poor middle-aged werewolf had just been scared out of his wits and hadn't quite recovered.
"Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away."
He turned to leave, only to be stopped again.
"Wait."
William tensed again, a groan barely escaping his throat. "Sir?"
Fortunately, this time Vaughn didn't say anything insane.
Instead, he instructed, "After you get back, speak privately with the other regional heads. Have everyone decide on a list of committee members and give it to me."
William almost smiled in relief. Compared to turning all Muggles into werewolves, this shady internal appointment task felt pure.
"Understood. I'll submit the list in a week."
A week was a precise estimate—WAC was newly established, and the committee would be selected more based on individual capabilities and interest than political maneuvering. If there were more entrenched interests involved, it could've taken months of arguing.
Vaughn understood and didn't object. He only added one final instruction:
"For WAC's first general assembly in July, I'm running for chairman. Let everyone know."
"Yes, sir," William replied calmly.
Of course. Even if Vaughn hadn't mentioned it, the werewolves wouldn't have allowed some outsider to take the position of WAC chairman.
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