"It's over, all over..."
The current president of the America Magic Congress, Wilhelm Fischer, sat at his desk, looking at the pile of reports in front of him, which had almost formed a small mountain. He looked at them one by one, his complexion turning increasingly pale, as he murmured continuously, a trace of despair flickering in his eyes.
Clearly, clearly as long as I get through Christmas this year, I can peacefully step down, why...
The man forcefully rubbed his short golden hair, his light blue pupils full of bewilderment.
What on earth happened? How could it be that, in just one night, among the seventeen major families of the America Wizarding World, eight were completely silenced, three lost about half of their members, and when asked those remaining survivors, the witnesses, like some fortunate servants and gardeners, the response was nothing but a group of armored, unidentifiable tall men who directly took them out of their residences...
Only the members of the Black Clan (yes, the distant relatives of Sirius) reported, because the Black residence and Anderson Manor were relatively close, several Black witnesses stated they saw roaring fire dragons in the sky... Two of them, in fact.
Two uncontrollable fire dragons precisely attacking numerous Magic Congress officials and more than half of the Pure-Blood Clans?
Never mind where the fire dragons came from, just this claim, Fischer felt once the newspapers report it tomorrow, he would be torn apart by panicking crowds the next day.
Someone must be behind all this!
But... Wilhelm Fischer opened his mouth in terror, was he really going to catch the mastermind behind this incident? Capture someone who could command two fire dragons and, in one night, deal with more than half of the Pure-Blood Wizards in the entire America Magic Realm?
"...I'm not Superman."
Having read many Muggle comics with his son, Fischer sighed, his hand holding his head drooping somewhat dejectedly.
Let's not even mention the Auror team, now almost reduced by two-thirds, even if the Auror team was entirely intact, Fischer didn't think they had any chance of winning. He had witnessed with his own eyes the blaze that erupted in Paris in his younger days, giving him a vague understanding of how vast the combat power difference could be between individual wizards—
And now, is he supposed to lead an Auror team, that's now more or less composed of rookies, to catch a "Grindelwald"?
"...Maybe I should just flee, I need to check the ticket to New Zealand."
"Knock, knock!"
"Who is it?"
"It's me, something's happened!"
Hearing the familiar voice, Fischer barely felt a breath of relief, fearing that a fire dragon was knocking at the door—letting his deputy in, he stared at the other's somewhat pale face, asking puzzledly, "What happened? Is there something more serious than that?"
"Apparently... it is quite severe, that guy, he has surrendered!"
"...Which guy?"
...
"Does anyone else know?"
Fischer quickly walked... No, he was running in the corridor, his deputy could only pant heavily as he followed behind. The two of them went through the Congress hall, which seemed disproportionately empty compared to usual, the rising golden dawn shone through the hazy glass onto the brown floor tiles, leaving fragmented golden light.
"No, I informed you first thing!"
The deputy hurriedly shook his head, well, he understood who provided him with food.
"That's good... Don't mention this to anyone yet, I'll meet him alone."
As they drew closer to the interrogation room, Fischer's pace slowed, he gasped, couldn't help but swallow, finally he raised his hand, gripped the doorknob, and pushed the door open.
Inside, a man who appeared very young was sitting opposite the interrogation table, he looked around the pure white walls and floor with interest, and when he saw Fischer enter, the man showed a reassuring smile, "Here? Please sit."
"Oh..."
Fischer hesitated for a moment, instinctively sat opposite the man, then suddenly realized this was the Congress's interrogation room, theoretically, it was his turf... How could this man take charge so naturally?
Thinking this, Fischer instinctively wanted to put on a stern face, but just as the thought flashed by, he cast it to the back of his mind—
Damn it, if this man was truly the murderer behind last night's massacre cases, putting on such an act isn't inviting death? He's not an idiot... Taking a deep breath, a forced smile appeared on the man's face.
"Hello, I am Wilhelm Fischer, the current president, may I ask you..."
"William Richard, a sixth-year student at Hogwarts."
"..."
"?"
Fischer couldn't help but twitch his eyelids. He felt as if he were being "teased," but looking at the other's serious expression, he took a deep breath. His many years of crawling through the political arena had trained him in excellent energy cultivation skills.
"So, you are here today to?"
"Didn't that bald guy just tell you? I'm here to take responsibility for last night's attacks."
William smiled sincerely, "Yes, don't look so surprised, those attacks you're thinking of—because of certain reasons, I helped clear the murky waters of America's Magic Realm, but don't worry, I'm not here for a medal..."
"..."
"Actually, I originally wanted to find you at dawn today, but since I took quite some time, I could only come here."
"..."
A drop of cold sweat trickled down Fischer's nape, making its way into his pants, the slightly damp sensation making his face look even worse—obviously, everything this boy in front of him said was so absurd, but for some reason, Fischer instinctively believed it was true—
The thought that he might have been woken up by this person today made the man's heart fill with dread.
"You… you must be joking!"
Although his mind had completely bought it, Fischer instinctively wanted to escape; he stood up in a panic, instinctively wanting to usher the guest out—damn it, whoever wants to be Congress President can be it! I'm bouncing to New Zea—no, bouncing to Antarctica tonight!
"Do I really look like I'm joking?"
"... No, not at all."
Under William's gaze, Fischer's legs couldn't help but go weak, and he fell back into his seat, a resigned look on his face as if everything William said was right.
"Well then, since you also express trust in me, we can cooperate—"
William nodded, signaling the Werewolf soldier who had just placed his paw on Fischer to let go, "I didn't expect that in such a mess, someone like you, who remains untainted by the mire, is truly… surprising."
He reviewed this President's resume, mundane as it was; he entered Ilvermorny School in his youth, got admitted to Thunderbird Academy, graduated, and went right into the Magic Congress as a diplomatic employee. He returned home to focus on the political scene, quickly climbing to the director's position, and then sat in that chair for over twenty years—
Until the last election, he was merely a low-key runner-up companion, but somehow, all his competitors died of strange but flawless reasons within a month. Finally, on the eve of the election, his last competitor passed, and the man took the position in a muddle.
So, he truly remained untainted by the mire because it seemed no mire came his way.
Over a hundred years of maneuvering, those Pure-Blood families had established self-sustaining cycles, making them entirely unworried about leveraging the Magic Congress, so they seemed indifferent about who sat as President, as long as it wasn't someone from opposing factions—
Moreover, this President appeared to lack ambition.
Thus, this very subtle balance formed under these unusual circumstances.
So intriguing, yet no flaws could be found, including the evidence left by the Graves Family, all proving that the current President had nothing to do with Poachers. As a Half-Blood Wizard, he hadn't even attended many of the Pure-Blood Clan's gatherings—luckily, because otherwise, William would have had to find a new Congress President.
After all, he couldn't stay here twenty-four hours a day; he needed a compliant person to help resolve all the Poachers in North America. This was a big project, but thankfully, after these two years of growth and cultivation, the once-theoretical Werewolf Army was now basically formed, so William didn't need to be here himself.
Thus, in this somewhat cramped interrogation room, the two sides engaged in "friendly" and "close" discussions, and in the end, the president happily agreed to this sixth-year Hogwarts student's suggestion, accepting a batch of rigorously trained Werewolf troops to secretly fill the missing Auror force.
Furthermore, "Aurors" would be dispatched to eliminate all Poacher dens within America.
"But sir, how should I handle this matter..."
After reviewing the evidence William presented concerning the Pure-Blood families and Poachers involved in Muggle trafficking, the President was truly a bit more agreeable, clutching his freshly marked wrist, he hesitantly swallowed, his gaze on William, his tone a little anxious.
"Isn't that simple, finding a scapegoat should be easy, just pull those Scourers (a kind of extremist 'Wizard' mercenaries hostile to the Wizarding World) out for a walk—"
William waved his hand; these things hardly needed a lesson from him, marking a failure in political acumen—this man landed the President's job, probably just as his file noted, simply due to his pacifist attitude and a bit of simple luck. And while a politician, he indeed was a good man in broad terms.
After all, as a Half-Blood, he wasn't as extremely hostile to Muggles as the previous presidents.