LRAB Chapter 61 The Shame of the Selwyn Family
Chapter 61 The Shame of the Selwyn Family
Chapter 61 The Shame of the Selwyn Family
Meanwhile, in the council chamber of Selwyn Manor, the candles on the candelabra flickered violently, casting intermittent light on the portraits of past patriarchs on the walls. Around a heavy oak table, five men in dark green robes sat, the air thick with tension.
Edmund Selwyn sat in the main seat, his long, slender fingers rhythmically tapping the emerald at the top of his serpent-headed staff. The candlelight cast deep shadows on his angular face, and the dark circles under his eyes revealed that he hadn't had a proper rest for three days. Since receiving news of the closure of the German alchemy workshop, a series of bad news had come crashing down like dominoes falling.
"This is the greatest disgrace the Selwyn family has suffered in three hundred years!" Gareth Selwyn slammed his fist on the table, his blond hair flying wildly behind him. His fist slammed down, causing a silver goblet to overturn, the deep red wine staining the parchment like blood. "Just because of a Mudblood's complaint, all our businesses, both domestic and international, are under investigation!"
Edmund stared at the "bloodstain," recalling the Ravenclaw freshman Karen Hawthorne mentioned in his son Darrendel's letter. This unassuming first-year student had plunged the Selwyn family into an unprecedented crisis.
"Watch your words, Gareth." Edmund's voice was low and restrained, but the knuckles on his serpent-headed staff were already white. "That student is now a disciple of Victor Eisenberg."
"Ha! An alchemist of unknown origin!" Theodore Selwyn sneered, his light blond hair swaying with his excited movements. The youngest member of the family always had a sickly flush on his face. "Just because of this cowardly fellow? Are we really going to admit defeat? We are one of the Twenty-Eight Holy Races! Uncle Marcus, say something!"
Marcus Selwyn, sitting in the shadows, slowly raised his head. He was the oldest surviving member of the Selwyn family, and the years had etched deep lines into his gaunt face. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping: "Foolish." This simple word made Theodore blush instantly.
"Don't you realize the gravity of the situation yet? The French Ministry of Magic raided our herb garden, Germany shut down our alchemy workshop, and in Bulgaria—" He suddenly coughed violently, his emaciated body trembling like a withered leaf in the wind, "The missing dragon blood smuggling ledger has been anonymously sent to the International Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"
Theodore instantly understood that the herb plantations in France were an important source of herbs for the family, and that dragon's blood smuggling was the family's biggest source of illicit income. The fact that these core secrets had been so precisely targeted meant that the other party knew their operating methods inside and out.
The flames in the fireplace suddenly turned an eerie green, and a letter with gold-edged edges emerged from the Floo Net, landing lightly in front of Edmund. The sealing wax on the envelope was an unfamiliar emblem—crossed wands and cauldrons, surrounded by runes.
The room fell eerily silent. Everyone stared at the letter as if it were a venomous snake ready to strike at any moment. Edmund noticed his Uncle Marcus's fingers trembling slightly under the table, while the usually arrogant Theodore was deathly pale.
Edmund carefully pried open the sealing wax with a letter opener, the parchment making a soft rustling sound as it unfolded. As he read...
The veins on his forehead gradually bulged, and he finally crushed the letter into powder.
"What did he say?" Gareth asked urgently, his voice rising an octave.
Edmund slowly loosened his fist, letting the scraps of paper slip from his fingers: "Eisenberg said he would only stop paying special attention to the Selwyn family if he got Hawthorne's forgiveness."
"Special attention?" Theodore jumped to his feet, wand already gripped in his hand. "He calls this 'special attention'? Our businesses are collapsing one after another!"
Gareth suddenly sneered, "So this is his condition? To have a Mudblood forgive us?" His laughter was hysterical. "When did the Selwyn family ever stoop so low as to grovel before a Mudblood?"
"Shut up!" Marcus snapped, slamming his withered hand on the table with a dull thud. "Do you know how many debt collectors' owls came to Gringotts today? Our warehouse in Bulgaria burned down, all our German partners terminated their contracts, and even the Malfoys hinted at reconsidering the partnership!"
A chill ran down everyone's spine. Even Malfoy, who had always been on good terms with House Selwyn, was distancing himself; the situation was worse than they had imagined.
"Then let's start the war!" Theodore brandished his wand, dangerous sparks flying from its tip. "Summon our allies in the Ministry of Magic and lodge a protest with Wizengamor!"
"You think we haven't tried?" Edmund said coldly. "The German Ministry of Magic rejected our appeal outright."
The French won't even meet with us. As for Britain," his lips twisted into a bitter expression, "that opportunist Fudge, as soon as he heard that the International Alchemist Association might withdraw its support for the British branch, immediately kicked our people out of the office, and that greedy fellow also wanted to take advantage of the situation."
At the far end of the long table, the fifth member, Algernon Selwyn, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up: "I heard—Eisenberg and Dumbledore are getting close." His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "Could it be that old man behind it all..."
"Impossible," Edmund said firmly. "Dumbledore never solved problems this way. This is—a different style." His gaze swept across the room. "More ruthless, more precise, more like—"
"It's more like the methods of that European Black Demon King," Marcus suddenly interjected, his voice carrying a chilling realization.
The name seemed to lower the temperature in the room by several degrees. Theodore's wand drooped, and Gareth's face turned deathly pale.
"It can't be him," Algernon said urgently. "He's still in Nurmengard—"
"But the followers are still there," Marcus said somberly. "And this Eisenberg is supposedly from Germany."
Edmund suddenly stood up, his black robes gleaming darkly in the candlelight. "Whoever he is, what we need to consider now is how to save the family." His voice was eerily calm. "Prepare an apology. The German alchemy workshop, the Galleons, the library—bring out that set of the Ancient Runic Codex from the family treasury as well."
"Are you crazy?" Gareth stared wide-eyed in disbelief. "That's a rare book our ancestors brought back from Northern Europe! It's the symbol of the Selwyn family!"
"What are a few books compared to the survival of the entire family?" Edmund sneered. "Tomorrow I will send someone to Hogwarts to pick up Darendall and make him apologize to that Hawthorne in person." He glanced around at everyone present, his voice turning icy. "Anyone who has objections can leave the Selwyn family now."
A long silence followed. Finally, even the most radical Theodore slumped back into his chair and downed his drink. Edmund, watching his family members' expressions of submission, felt a mixture of satisfaction and overwhelming powerlessness.
Three hundred years of pure-blood glory were trampled underfoot by an unknown alchemist and a Muggle student.
"There's one more thing," Edmund's voice broke the silence. "From today onward, no family member is allowed to use the word 'Mudblood' in public." Seeing the shocked expressions on everyone's faces, he added bitterly, "At least until this blows over."
Gareth slammed his glass against the wall, crystal shards flying everywhere. "What is this? Don't we even have the freedom to speak anymore?"
"Freedom?" Edmund's voice suddenly rose. "When our vaults are frozen, our properties seized, and even our house-elves are whispering among themselves, you dare talk about freedom?" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "This is a temporary concession, not an admission of defeat. The Selwyn family will remember this day, and they will remember—everyone involved."
His gaze swept over the portraits of his ancestors on the wall; those proud faces now bore the marks of anger and humiliation. Edmund knew that tonight's decision would leave a shameful mark on the family history, but for survival, they had no other choice.
"Algernon, go prepare that copy of the Ancient Rune Codex. Gareth, contact the goblins at Gringotts and prepare the two thousand Galleons in reparations. Theodore, you go."
His instructions were interrupted by a series of urgent knocks on the door. The butler's trembling voice came from outside: "Sir, a reporter from the Daily Prophet is at the door, saying he received an anonymous tip to interview about—about the investigation into the Selwyn family's businesses."
The air in the room seemed to freeze. Edmund closed his eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness. The news had leaked faster than expected; it was clearly part of the enemy's plan—not only to force them to submit, but to make the entire wizarding world witness the Selwyn family kneeling in submission.
"Tell them—" Edmund's voice was hoarse and almost inaudible, "that the Selwyn family will release a formal statement soon. Now, ask them to leave."
After the butler's footsteps faded into the distance, Edmund turned to Marcus: "Uncle, it seems our enemies want us to prepare a—public statement."
A flicker of pain crossed old Marcus's eyes, but he ultimately just nodded heavily. On this long night, the Selwyn family's three-hundred-year-old pride was being eroded inch by inch. And all of this was because of a first-year student and that mysterious alchemist.
Edmund gazed at the dark night sky outside the window, feeling utterly powerless for the first time. In this war without visible smoke, they had already been utterly defeated without even knowing who the real enemy was.