Chapter 82 Corban Yaxley
Corban Yaxley's continued position as a high-ranking Ministry official after Voldemort's fall from power meant he was definitely not to be underestimated.
He was a well-known Death Eater. Though he cleverly argued in the Wizengamot that he was coerced by Voldemort's death threats into supporting him, many people knew his true nature. Even so, he remained in the Ministry while many "pure-blood supremacist" officials were being purged.
This made him even more formidable than old Barty Crouch Sr. Barty was only implicated because his son was a Death Eater, but Corban Yaxley was a full-fledged Death Eater. Not just a regular follower, but a core member with the Dark Mark on his arm, entrusted with important tasks by the Dark Lord—something Fenrir Greyback could only dream of.
The underlying reasons for this weren't complicated.
The wizarding world's most brutal aspect was its fundamental truth: magic equals power.
In a world where immense power resided in individuals, a powerful wizard who commanded countless mysterious forces, if not killed or imprisoned in Azkaban, simply couldn't be pushed too far. Otherwise, no one knew what such a person might do.
Corban Yaxley was such a wizard, whose magical prowess was enough to make everyone wary. Moreover, as a member of the Yaxley family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, he wielded immense influence in wizarding society.
Being targeted by such a formidable figure, Lockhart's heart tightened!
There was absolutely no hostility without reason in this world, and for the Boggart to call it "extreme hostility" clearly indicated it was more than just ordinary emotion.
Could it be...
Voldemort had escaped Hogwarts and finally decided to contact his loyal followers?
Dumbledore had said that old Voldy was too weak to do anything, but he hadn't said Voldemort couldn't issue commands to the Death Eaters who remained loyal to him.
"You know, that curse..."
Corban Yaxley was clearly an active member of this "We're Still Alive" club. This cunning politician was always good at guiding conversations, looking mysteriously at everyone and asking, "Do you think our Professor Lockhart can last the full year?"
Yes!
Yes!
Lockhart silently roared. Even if this wretched curse caused him all sorts of problems, preventing him from serving a full term, he didn't believe he'd die in office like that brain-damaged Quirrell!
He gave the old man a deep look, then burst into a bright, radiant laugh. "Of course, everyone will witness how I progress step by step to the very end, Mr. Yaxley."
He seemed not to mind the topic at all, betting his own life in this little club, and his optimistic demeanor clearly created an excellent atmosphere for the gathering.
Madam Merriweather's expression grew increasingly pleased with Lockhart. Stroking her gnarled tree-branch walking stick, she expressed her support for the young man. "Gilderoy, when you return after completing this year of teaching, I am willing to offer you my support."
With such an influential figure speaking, others quickly made various promises.
Throughout this, Mr. Corban Yaxley, who seemed the most eager to expand his influence within this small group, directly raised his glass and proclaimed, "Gilderoy Lockhart! Let us celebrate his great endeavor! I, too, am willing to support the growth of outstanding young people..."
He then looked at Lockhart, under everyone's gaze, and continued, "Once you've completed a full year of teaching, I am willing to gift you my family's oak forest in the Białowieża Primeval Forest!"
At his words, everyone around gasped simultaneously.
Many members' expressions changed as they looked at Mr. Corban Yaxley. So generous?
One person even exclaimed, flattering him profusely, "Is that the forest that supplies magical oak for Ollivanders' wand shop? I heard it also hosts a large number of magical creatures!"
"Yes!" Another looked at Mr. Yaxley with burning eyes, swallowing, "I heard this mysterious forest has many Bowtruckles, and even extremely rare Mooncalves!"
Mooncalf dung was an incredibly valuable magical resource, causing magical plants and various herbs to grow rapidly and mature quickly.
Mr. Corban Yaxley simply smiled, saying nothing, enjoying the fervent gazes of the crowd.
Such a precious gift...
Lockhart smirked inwardly. It seemed Corban Yaxley was very certain he wouldn't survive to the very end.
Wait!
A chord in his mind suddenly vibrated, and a piece of information was quickly grasped: located in the Białowieża Primeval Forest?
Tomorrow, he was supposed to take the young wizards to the Crabbe family's Rainbow Fish farm, which was also located in the Białowieża Primeval Forest.
Was it a coincidence?
Or was the curse still at work?
Or was Voldemort's revenge, orchestrated through this subordinate, about to begin?
Lockhart's spirits soared. A powerful sense of exhilaration filled his mind. It's coming, it's coming!
Then...
Let it come even more fiercely!
I'm waiting!
Lockhart hadn't expected that the first person to offer him Dark magical creatures would be Lyall Lupin.
After the dinner, he followed Lyall through the Hog's Head Inn's fireplace to a somewhat remote public fireplace in central England. From there, they used broomsticks and Disillusionment Charms to travel under the cover of night to a deserted Muggle slaughterhouse.
Honestly, had he not known Lyall Lupin's character, and with Voldemort's hostility towards him, he wouldn't have dared to come to such a remote place.
As the two landed in the central courtyard of the slaughterhouse's interior building, a biting, cold wind swept through. In a filthy pool of sewage in the corner, an eerie, pale figure wailed and struggled.
"It's me, Mr. Alwathorn, good evening." Lyall greeted the ghost in the sewage pool and led Lockhart into the slaughterhouse, explaining, "This ghost is a guardian I hired to scare away Muggles who try to approach."
Soon, they reached a large door bound with many arm-thick iron chains. As he waved his wand, the chains slid open like long snakes, and the door creaked ajar.
Lyall raised his wand, its tip emitting a strong light like a powerful lamp, illuminating the interior of the slaughterhouse for Lockhart.
—People!
More precisely—people imprisoned in two rows of iron cages stretching into the darkness!
Men, women, young, and old!
"Merlin's lace underwear!" Lockhart gasped in disbelief, looking at the scene, smelling the faint scent of blood in the air, and then at the middle-aged man holding the wand in front of him.
The middle-aged man, with his back to Lockhart, suddenly seemed to lose his shy, scholarly demeanor. His withered, gaunt figure inexplicably became eerie.
He swallowed, quietly stepping back. "Lyall... I mean... what is this...?"
He felt a chill, recalling the curse on himself, wondering if tonight was another one of those nights.
Lyall didn't turn around, simply gazing deeply at the people in the iron cages, his figure shrouded in gloom.
His voice was hollow, still in that honest, simple tone, yet it now sounded subtly unlike him. "Gilderoy, don't be afraid, these aren't people..."
As he said this, he seemed to tremble all over. "After all, the Ministry of Magic rules, don't they? They fall under the jurisdiction of the 'Beast Office' or the 'Being Office'..."
"Of course, we know that's a foolish notion. From an academic standpoint, they should be considered Dark magical creatures, right?"
"Lyall!" Lockhart sighed, "No, you're wrong. They are people. You were the one who enthusiastically invited me to join your club to advocate for werewolves. You were very firm then that they were people."
Lyall turned back to look at him, somewhat surprised. "Actually, I intended to use your influence as an international best-selling author. I didn't realize you genuinely thought that."
Lockhart shrugged. "Then you obviously haven't read the contents of my book, Wandering with Werewolves. I helped the residents of Wagga Wagga subdue a werewolf, and the spell I used was the 'Human Restoring Charm'."
"Restoring! Human!" He explained the spell's name. "See, they are fundamentally human."
Lyall grimaced, saying nothing, and led him further into the slaughterhouse, waving his wand to light the torches on the walls.
Under the torchlight, Lockhart finally realized there were over a dozen humans there.
"How can there be so many?" He was stunned. Although it was hard to get accurate population data on werewolves, there couldn't possibly be so many at once, unless...
Lyall bent down, scooping water from a bucket with a large iron ladle and pouring it into the troughs inside the iron cages. Hearing Lockhart's question, he paused for a moment, then pursed his lips and stood up. "Actually, there were originally only two. They were werewolves who had maliciously attacked other wizards. I managed to help them evade Ministry judgment and brought them here."
"The others..."
"They are all incorrigible condemned criminals I caught from Muggle society and managed to infect with lycanthropy."
Ah, this...
Lockhart looked at Lyall in disbelief. "Do you know what you're saying? Am I supposed to know all this?"
Good heavens, would he be silenced?
Lyall pursed his lips, his eyes filled with sorrow and weariness, and shook his head. "I spoke with Dumbledore tonight. He said you're a top expert in Dark magical creatures, and that you're very reliable. I..."
He wasn't really a mad scientist type. Since Dumbledore, the great wizard who had done so much for his family, said so, he naturally believed him.
He hadn't even considered whether revealing this would cause him any trouble.
But perhaps he no longer cared, seeming to be on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
Lockhart was naturally aware of his situation. Lyall's son, Remus Lupin, would die on the battlefield during the Battle of Hogwarts in a few years. He couldn't imagine the pain this old father would feel then.
Years without seeing each other, only to be separated by death when they finally met again.
Sigh.
Perhaps the "Human Restoring Charm" could offer him some hope.
....
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