He cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself once more.
The system panel quietly appeared before him, then vanished just as quickly—but it was enough for him to register the updated information.
[Disillusionment Charm proficiency improved]
[Disillusionment Charm LV1 (1/4)]
Two months had passed since Vaughn entered school, and during that time, he had never slacked off in practicing spells. Of course, his main focus remained on potions.
So in these past two months, he had mainly concentrated on mastering a limited selection of spells.
Among them, the basic spells—like the Shield Charm—had reached LV4 (0/16), and the Disarming Charm had climbed to LV3 (2/8). The more advanced spells he had picked up from Snape a month ago were the Reductor and Blasting Curse, the Disillusionment Charm, and the Laceration Curse.
About a week ago, all three were finally upgraded to LV1 in succession, marking basic proficiency and allowing for smooth use. After that, Vaughn didn't train them too intensively anymore.
He simply kept up a steady amount of daily practice, as improving proficiency demanded considerable time.
Especially the Laceration curse. Although it was a Dark spell Snape had developed during his student days, it was extraordinarily complex and challenging.
Vaughn suspected Snape had incorporated elements from his family's dark magic knowledge.
In comparison, the Disillusionment Charm was much simpler. As a standard spell, it was easier to grasp. With Vaughn's aptitude, he had quickly mastered it.
Savoring the subtle improvements in casting the Disillusionment Charm, Vaughn moved lightly between stairs and corridors.
Hogwarts was lonely and empty at this hour, and even the smallest sound echoed across the deep, crisscrossing hallways.
He gently tapped his wand to his ear, enabling it to catch more distant sounds.
This was a trick he'd learned through frequent visits to the library over the last two months—any obscure book might contain a little-known but useful spell.
They weren't usually powerful, and many felt like mischievous pranks.
For instance, the sound transmission spell he'd used on Ron and himself earlier, and the ear-expanding spell he was using now, had both been recorded on a yellowed parchment titled:
"Ten Cheating Spells for Exams."
Scrawled beneath it was a line of cursive handwriting: Thanks to Mr. McLaggen for his tireless work. I shall ask Professor McGonagall to add these to the list of anti-cheating spells. Yours faithfully, Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Professor.
Poor Mr. McLaggen. As Vaughn quietly mourned this predecessor from decades past, he also made practical use of his legacy. Focusing, he soon picked up the sound of hurried footsteps.
They passed overhead, heading to the third floor, and then the fourth.
Vaughn quickened his pace, but as he reached the third floor, he suddenly stopped in surprise—
He heard a new voice. Two faint, chattering teeth and a whisper suppressed to the limit, coming from the Charms classroom on the fourth floor—barely brushing past Quirrell's rapid footsteps.
"Harry... what's wrong with you...?"
"It hurts... my head hurts..."
It was Harry and Hermione!
Five minutes earlier, they'd left to find Vaughan and Ron, unaware of the troll.
Initially, everything went smoothly. They managed to slip past Percy without attracting attention and successfully exited the group.
But soon, they became lost. No one knew where Vaughn had taken Ron. They wandered aimlessly from the second floor to the third. Once their initial impulse faded, Hermione regained her composure and began to persuade Harry to turn back.
"Tell Percy about the troll and let him notify the professors. That's still better than aimlessly wandering around," she whispered, crouched at the fourth-floor stairwell.
Harry hesitated. He knew Hermione made sense.
But something was wrong. His thoughts were a mess. An urge tugged at his mind—Go up one more floor!
Go up to the fourth floor!
You'll find something valuable there!
The thought had come out of nowhere, strange and sudden. It felt like it came from deep within his mind, whispering that the fourth floor held something important.
A thrill coursed through him—excitement, anticipation, the feeling of being close to achieving something.
The urge was so overwhelming, it was hard to resist!
"Let's just check the fourth floor," Harry urged. "If there's nothing there, we'll go get the professors."
Left with no choice, Hermione agreed. But to Harry's disappointment, they found nothing after searching for a while. Just as he began to fight the rising pull in his mind and prepared to return with Hermione—
Footsteps echoed up the stairwell!
In the dim light, they exchanged a look. Whether it was Percy or a professor, they couldn't be caught—or Gryffindor would lose more points.
Hermione spotted the Charms classroom and quickly pulled Harry inside. They crouched behind the door, peeking through the narrow crack.
Down the corridor, a robed figure was hurrying forward.
Who was it? Though the poor lighting and narrow view made it difficult to tell, no students should be out now, and the professors were all searching the basement for the troll.
Who would come to the fourth floor? And why?
Harry thought of the forbidden room at the end of the hallway—the one with Fluffy and the trapdoor—where the Philosopher's Stone might be hidden.
He glanced at Hermione. She seemed to realize it, too, her mouth covered in alarm.
Harry leaned forward, ignoring Hermione's frantic head-shaking. He pushed the door open just enough to peek outside.
The figure in the cloak had almost reached the corridor's midpoint. Harry saw only his back.
But the instant he saw it, pain erupted from his scar, spreading through his entire skull. It was unbearable—fiery, stabbing, like an axe had split his head open.
Harry collapsed. His vision blurred with tears and pain. He dimly heard Hermione's panicked voice:
"Harry, Harry, what's wrong?"
"It hurts... my head... it hurts so much..." He tried to suppress a scream, groaning. Hermione was dragging him, clearly trying to avoid being seen.
But it was too late. Through his watery vision, he saw the cloaked figure stop.
All the corridor's light and shadow began to twist and warp around the black figure—it felt like something out of a horror movie.
Hiss—
Hiss—
Harry heard the figure let out a hoarse, snake-like sound. Then, the figure began to turn.
The warped lights vanished instantly.
Harry gasped for breath, the pain fading at last—but danger still loomed. The robed man swiftly raised his wand.
"Stupe—"
But just a second before the spell landed, someone appeared beside Harry—and a sharp, youthful voice rang out:
"Expelliarmus!" It was Vaughn!
A bright red light burst from nowhere, hitting the black-robed man with enough force to make him stagger, his spell interrupted.
"Protego!" A shimmering shield blocked the disarming spell, but the unexpected power behind it made the barrier flicker violently.
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P@atreon/Arvinstorm (30+ Advanced Chapters)