Before he had learned enough, Vaughn had never considered facing Voldemort alone. But that didn't mean he was about to give up on the mission.
The system only said to save the Forbidden Forest unicorns—it never said he had to do it alone. This was Hogwarts. With Dumbledore here, why on earth would he take Voldemort head-on?
By evening, after several hours trekking through the Forbidden Forest, Vaughn and Hagrid returned and said their goodbyes outside the latter's hut.
Vaughn composed himself, adjusting his expression to look solemn and tense, as if he had encountered something truly serious.
Then he went to find Professor McGonagall.
"Mr. Weasley, you—?"
"Professor, please take me to see Headmaster Dumbledore. I have something very important to report!"
Professor McGonagall was taken aback by his expression and hesitated before finally leading him to the eighth floor.
As deputy headmistress, she naturally knew the password to Dumbledore's office.
"Chocolate Frog!"
This was Vaughn's first time entering the headmaster's office. The circular room was warmly lit, like a spring morning in full bloom.
Right inside the entrance stood a spiral staircase, presumably leading up to Dumbledore's private quarters. A broad, semi-circular bookshelf lined the far wall, filled with tomes and strange golden instruments.
Near the large French windows, a long desk was cluttered with various magical items.
In one corner stood a perch, where the phoenix Fawkes rested with his eyes closed.
Hearing footsteps, Fawkes opened his eyes, as did the portraits of former headmasters hanging all around.
"Ah, our little Slytherin genius has arrived. Splendid," one of the portraits remarked with some amusement.
Vaughn glanced up. That had to be the only Slytherin headmaster—Phineas Nigellus Black.
The man with the worst reputation among all former headmasters. And, tragically, his once-proud family was now nearly extinct.
Vaughn gave him a polite nod, then turned toward the fireplace—
Dumbledore sat in front of it, dressed in a pink-and-purple robe, calmly knitting a sweater.
He turned and waved his needles with a smile. "Minerva, Mr. Weasley, good evening. What a lovely coincidence. Can you help me decide if this knitting pattern is nice? I spent ages browsing a Muggle mall yesterday. Nearly got overwhelmed…"
"Ahem! Albus!" Professor McGonagall snapped, frowning. "Mr. Weasley said he has something urgent to report!"
Dumbledore looked curiously at Vaughn.
Their last interaction hadn't been very pleasant from Dumbledore's perspective. Vaughn, determined and self-assured, had flatly rejected his offer. He'd expected the boy to avoid him for a while.
Vaughn nodded and, under the gazes of McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the portraits, he retrieved a small bottle from his enchanted satchel and placed it on the headmaster's desk.
"What is this, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Unicorn blood, Headmaster." Then Vaughn drew his wand and cast a revealing spell.
The same image from earlier appeared: silvery-white light emerged from the soil, but soon wisps of gray mist coiled out of it. The reaction from the portraits was immediate—several gasped audibly.
The smile on Dumbledore's face vanished.
He rose, walked to the desk, and leaned over the bottle, motioning to McGonagall: "Minerva, you may go. Mr. Weasley has indeed brought me something serious."
After she left, Dumbledore turned his sharp gaze back to Vaughn.
"Where did you find it, Mr. Weasley?" His eyes—ageless and penetrating—seemed to see straight through him.
Legilimency? Vaughn had long since trained himself to keep his mind closed. He could feel the magic gathering behind those eyes, not breaking in, but lingering cautiously.
"You just used Legilimency to gauge my emotions and see if I was lying?" Vaughn asked calmly. Then he answered: "In the Forbidden Forest."
He recounted how he and Hagrid had 'accidentally' discovered the strange unicorn blood and the traces of dark magic.
"…Neither the werewolves nor any other creature in the forest could cast dark magic. Only a wizard could have done it."
"You know I'm skilled in potions. While unicorn blood is cursed, that's never stopped fools from trying to brew it into elixirs. Typically, such potions are—"
"—meant to grant immortality," Dumbledore finished in a murmur. He raised a hand—without wand or incantation—and reached into the light.
He grasped the swirling gray mist directly, drawing it into his palm.
Vaughn watched in awe. No wand. No sound. No visible magical ripple. Just raw, perfect control.
Dumbledore studied the mist for a moment, then blew it away and turned to Vaughn. "This is a serious matter. I'll need to investigate the site myself."
He raised his arm. "Fawkes!"
The phoenix gave a sharp cry and soared to Dumbledore's side.
"Mr. Weasley, feel free to help yourself to some snacks on the table. I won't be long." With that, he Disapparated—no wand, no resistance from Hogwarts' enchantments. Phoenix travel.
Vaughn wasn't surprised. The anti-Disapparition spell only affected wizards, not magical creatures like Fawkes or house-elves. He wandered behind the desk, picked a few chocolates from the floating dish, and began munching.
After a day of trekking, he was starving.
The portraits murmured all around him. Then one called out: "Hey, Weasley boy."
He looked up. It was Principal Black.
The gloomy man gave a sly wink. "You could detect dark magic in unicorn blood… You're no goody-two-shoes, are you? Don't look so shocked—I don't judge. In fact, I'm glad. A Slytherin genius should study the Dark Arts."
"I'm just saying… we could make a deal."
He leaned forward, voice low and conspiratorial.
"Want to learn more about the dark? If you do one little thing for me, I'll tell you where the Black family's ancestral home is. Merlin, be my witness, it's full of forbidden knowledge. Just imagine—"
Before he could finish, an old man with a white beard stormed into his frame, punched him straight in the nose, and tackled him.
"You bastard! Useless when alive, and now you want to corrupt students from beyond the grave? I'll beat you to death!"
"Teacher! Teacher—ow! I'm already dead! You can't beat me to death again!"
The two wrestled wildly within the frame. Vaughn watched, thoroughly entertained.