"You've been hit by a dark curse, and not just any spell—it's a powerful one. The mind of an evil, dark wizard is beginning to influence you."
"Look, even Hermione didn't recognize the Vanishing Spell, and yet you instinctively knew something about it. Think about last night—doesn't that scare you?"
"But Madam Pomfrey…"
"Don't interrupt. Right now, he can only influence you in subtle ways. But soon, you won't even be able to tell whether the thoughts in your head are your own or his. Harry, you don't want to wake up one day and realize you've been replaced by someone else, do you?"
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, pale-faced and vacant-eyed. No wonder he had been restless and unable to sleep all night!
In his mind, he saw a tiny version of himself, trembling in fear. A dark shadow reached out a monstrous claw, grabbed the small figure, and swallowed him whole. Then the face of the creature twisted and morphed—until it became his own.
Harry shivered violently and looked at Vaughn in despair, his lips trembling. "Am… am I going to die?"
"Not necessarily. There is magic that can save you."
Harry's eyes lit up with hope, only to see Vaughn hesitate, looking troubled. Seeing this, his heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong?"
"Unfortunately, I don't know how," Vaughn sighed. "There are two memory-related spells: Legilimency and Occlumency. Occlumency can save you, and Legilimency is usually used to help master it."
Harry had been terrified by the grim news this early in the morning. He immediately asked, "Then… where can I learn them?"
Hermione, who had been listening with growing alarm, also looked at Vaughn expectantly.
Vaughn pretended to think deeply, even frowning as if in conflict. After a long pause, he said, "Dumbledore knows both spells. But I doubt he'll teach us."
"Why not?"
"Because they're forbidden. Harry, Legilimency, and Occlumency are not allowed to be taught to students."
Hermione couldn't help but protest: "But they could save Harry's life! Dumbledore can't just sit back and let Harry die, can he?"
Good girl, Vaughn thought. That's the perfect cue!
He nodded solemnly. "I don't believe Dumbledore would be that cruel either."
"How about this…" he said as he took out a quill and some parchment. "Harry, you write to Dumbledore. I'll send it at lunchtime."
Harry, dazed and overwhelmed, took the quill and parchment and wrote the letter under Vaughn's instruction. Then, still in a trance, he followed Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower—like a sleepwalker.
---
Meanwhile, Dumbledore sat slumped behind his desk, looking rather gloomy.
Vaughn, completely unfazed by his dark expression, sat cheerfully across from him and grinned. "I heard you spat a whole mouthful of pumpkin juice onto Professor Snape's plate at lunch?"
"Well, you'd better be careful, Albus. When I came up here just now, the Professor was brewing something that looked like poison. He was mixing Acromantula venom, wolfsbane, nightshade, and deadly belladonna. Just the smell could knock out a ghoul. I suggest you don't let him near your food for a while."
Dumbledore's mustache twitched slightly. Staring at the smiling boy in front of him, he suddenly understood exactly how Snape must feel every time he walked into a room.
Suffering, he thought bitterly.
He said sourly, "So that letter from Harry at lunch… was your idea, wasn't it?"
"Why use such a negative word like 'idea'?" Vaughn said with mock innocence. "Sure, I tricked Harry a little. But Voldemort's influence is real. Albus, you don't want Harry turning into Voldemort, do you?"
Dumbledore didn't fully understand what Vaughn meant, but the malice in his tone was unmistakable.
"I was actually considering letting Snape…"
Vaughn spread his hands. "You really think, with the way Snape treats Harry, that Harry would willingly learn from him? Personally, I think after a few lessons, Harry's confidence would be completely shattered—he might even start rebelling out of spite."
Dumbledore's eyes dimmed. That was a detail he hadn't considered.
He looked at Vaughn. "Severus is the most skilled Occlumens I know—unless you can prove you're more suitable."
Vaughn glanced around casually and smiled. "No need to test me. You've probably already asked the Sorting Hat, haven't you?"
Dumbledore said nothing. Which, of course, said everything.
From the moment Vaughn wore the Sorting Hat and it revealed he knew Occlumency, he knew Dumbledore would eventually find out.
As his talents continued to shine, Dumbledore was bound to investigate everything about him, especially after he brought up Horcruxes.
"Everyone has secrets, Albus—as long as those secrets don't harm others." With that, Vaughn drew his wand.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Brilliant white light burst forth, and a translucent Patronus leapt into the air, soaring and twirling gracefully.
Dumbledore watched in silence, seemingly unmoved. But those who knew him well would have seen the faintest sign of relief. Yes, everyone has secrets, as long as they don't affect others.
After a long pause, Dumbledore finally spoke. "That's a beautiful Patronus, Vaughn."
---
Somewhere in the middle, Hermione had said something to him, and he had responded—but Harry couldn't remember a word. When he next became aware of his surroundings, he was already sitting at the Great Hall's long table.
That terrified him even more.
He didn't think he had simply zoned out from stress—no, he was sure of it now.
Vaughn was right. His condition was getting worse.
The Halloween Feast was as grand as always. Even Dumbledore, who rarely showed up at lunch, had taken his place at the staff table.
Harry couldn't help glancing at the respected Headmaster over and over. But Dumbledore didn't notice him; he was speaking to Snape.
"Severus, I have a favor to ask of you," Dumbledore said, masking his inner distress with a smile.
Snape looked completely unenthusiastic. Nothing good ever came from Albus asking for 'favors.'
But Dumbledore had spent the whole night thinking this through, and he wasn't going to let it go. "I want you to teach Harry—"
Before he could finish, a sudden owl swooped in and dropped a letter in front of him. It then flew toward the Gryffindor table and landed beside Harry, pecking gently at his hand.
As Harry hurriedly fed the owl and sneakily peeked over at him, Dumbledore frowned slightly. If he remembered correctly, that owl belonged to the Weasley family… But he'd check the letter first.
He took a sip of pumpkin juice and opened it.
Beside him, Snape quietly breathed a sigh of relief and slowly picked up his knife and fork. He could finally enjoy his lunch without worrying that Dumbledore would dump some awful task on him. The thought of being asked to 'help' always killed his appetite.
Then—
SPLAT!
Dumbledore, mid-read, choked and sprayed a full mouthful of pumpkin juice right onto the plate in front of Snape.
Sticky yellow liquid covered the perfectly roasted chicken.
Nearby professors were frozen in place, watching as Snape turned to Dumbledore, his head creaking like it was made of rusted gears.
His hands clenched the cutlery so tightly that his knuckles went white. His jet-black eyes burned with fury.
"Dumbledore—"
---
That afternoon, Vaughn cheerfully strolled into the Headmaster's office.
"Good afternoon, Albus!" His bright voice instantly brought life to the portrait-lined room.
Old Headmaster Black was still persistently yelling for his beloved Salazar Slytherin, and the bearded, white-haired teacher had once again barged into Black's portrait to fight him.
The other former headmasters gathered to watch, jeering and egging them on.