As everyone left, the oak door of the office closed with a soft thud. Dumbledore clapped his hands, and a silent, wandless spell rippled through the air. The portraits, which had been murmuring among themselves, instantly fell silent.
They closed their eyes and stopped moving, as if their magic had been drained in an instant.
Vaughn looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore met his gaze.
After a brief pause, Dumbledore smiled and said, "Vaughn, I must say, your strength has truly surprised me. I—"
Vaughn cut him off before he could finish. "I thought you asked me to stay so you could explain everything."
Dumbledore fell silent.
"Explain why the Philosopher's Stone was placed in Hogwarts. Why would someone try to steal it? Why was it hidden on the fourth floor? And most importantly…"
Vaughn fixed his gaze on Dumbledore, his tone sharp and unyielding: "…why did the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor you hired cast the Killing Curse on students? Why did you erase the traces of the battle on the fourth floor and ask us to keep it from Professor McGonagall? What are you scheming, Albus?"
To Vaughn, the battle with Voldemort had been a complete accident.
Originally, he had only intended to tail Quirrell and see if that pitiful man could get past the three-headed dog, Fluffy, and find the Philosopher's Stone.
He had seen the Mirror of Erised in Dumbledore's office before. And he knew that once the Philosopher's Stone was placed inside the mirror, retrieving it would be nearly impossible.
Even though it was possible Dumbledore had hidden the Stone elsewhere, Vaughn didn't mind letting Quirrell and Voldemort lead the way—it was a convenient chance to confirm its location.
But things had spiraled out of control. He hadn't expected his and Ron's absence to push Harry and Hermione into coming after them on their own.
Still, that had been a minor oversight—until Harry, on the way to the headmaster's office, whispered to Vaughn:
"Vaughn, I… I think I could hear that black-robed man's thoughts. Not clearly, but I felt all his rage and hatred when you hit him… I think Hermione and I were influenced by him on the fourth floor…"
Harry had wanted to ask if Vaughn had been hit by some sort of dark magic.
He didn't notice the strange shift in Vaughn's expression. The accident hadn't been Harry and Hermione's fault. The problem was… Harry could hear Voldemort's thoughts?
It wasn't a complete surprise. But the issue was that a month ago, Vaughn had personally tested this—Harry had shown no reaction to the Horcrux at all.
In the original timeline, that connection only grew stronger after Voldemort's resurrection and as more Horcruxes were destroyed.
So why had it changed now? Vaughn thought of the one force in this world stronger than any magic—fate.
The one power he understood least, feared most, and longed for the deepest.
This sudden development made Vaughn reconsider his plan of lurking quietly on the edge of the Savior and Dark Lord conflict, merely observing.
So now, facing Dumbledore, he decided to step forward. His string of sharp questions visibly caught Dumbledore off guard. The old wizard's blue eyes gleamed more brightly with each word.
"Did you discover his identity? Did you see him? Did Harry see him?"
The mental barrier Vaughn kept up continued to function. He stared directly into Dumbledore's eyes and curled his lips slightly. "No. But that awful garlic stench? I don't think I'll ever forget it." Then he raised an eyebrow, feigning suspicion. "You mentioned Harry? So this is related to him?"
Dumbledore remained silent. His Legilimency revealed nothing unusual—just the righteous anger and relentless curiosity of a gifted young wizard.
And a desire for the truth.
If Vaughn had been an adult, Dumbledore might have tried intimidation. If he were someone gullible, like Ron, he might have pretended to be confused.
But after a few encounters, Dumbledore knew this boy was not to be underestimated. After a long moment, he sighed. "It's a long story, Vaughn. I can tell you everything… but I must ask you to keep it secret."
"Don't worry, I'll keep it secret." Vaughn's expression was flat. He had kept far bigger secrets for eleven years. When had he ever leaked a single one?
---
Snape wasn't sure how he got back to his office.
His mind was in chaos. The memories, like maggots gnawing on his soul, refused to fade.
The usual scent of brewing herbs, something he found calming, brought no peace today. Visions from long ago danced before his eyes.
A young girl with green eyes, lying beside him near the pond. Willow leaves swirling around them like birds in flight.
Then, ten years ago… that same girl was lying lifeless among the ruins of the Potters' home. He had cradled her cold body, weeping uncontrollably.
He'd thought that was the end. Even though Dumbledore had insisted the man responsible wasn't truly dead, Snape had dismissed it as paranoia from an aging man.
But today… he had felt it.
That evil, decayed magic—his magic.
Boom!
Lost in thought, he had accidentally added the wrong ingredients. The cauldron burst into flames, and a full batch of 'The Draught of Living Death' was ruined.
Snape stood there, unmoving, as a blue, translucent phoenix drifted in through the window. It perched silently on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
The words from the Patronus cut through his sorrow and fear, igniting a new flame inside him—rage.
Snape stormed to the headmaster's office. Without knocking, he pushed the door open and barked, his voice cold and dripping with scorn:
"Dumbledore, the great white wizard… Not satisfied with destroying me? Are you now planning to drag Vaughn into your schemes, too? What is it this time? A better tool for the savior? Or a replacement double agent?"
Inside the office, the portraits still had their eyes closed, frozen in silence. The room felt dead.
Dumbledore stood by the Pensieve, seemingly lost in thought. Snape's voice brought him back. He turned slowly, giving a helpless smile.
"Severus, you've known him longer than I have. You should know how sharp he is."
Snape sneered. "So you told him your plan? Using Ron and Harry's friendship to help you mold the savior? You haven't changed at all in all these years."
But Dumbledore looked even more resigned.
"No," he said slowly. "He offered to help me train Harry…"
Snape froze. "What nonsense are you spouting now?"
Dumbledore's gaze was steady. "He said it was a deal."
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