It took Vaughn more than three hours to deal with all the gifts.
The more meaningful ones had to be stored carefully, food had to be consumed or handled quickly, and anything with a signature needed a reply.
Fortunately, there wasn't much writing involved. Most of the responses—whether to customers or classmates—could be quickly copied using a few standard templates and a spell-cast quill.
That significantly reduced his workload.
By noon, Vaughn, Ron, and Harry were carrying a large bag up to the Owlery and sending off the letters one by one.
It was already afternoon when they finished.
In the quiet dining hall, only Filch was decorating the walls with parasitic plants. Rows of wreaths made of ginkgo leaves and green twigs looked especially fresh.
Just as the three of them walked through the door, Hagrid entered carrying a Christmas tree.
He greeted them cheerfully, "Harry, Vaughn, Ron—Merry Christmas, kids! I liked your gifts!"
Vaughn had given him a box of beard care ointment. It looked like he'd already used it—his messy beard now hung softly over his chest, and his rough face suddenly looked quite handsome.
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Hagrid. Do you need any help?"
"No, no, go on and eat first!"
There was never a shortage of food in the Hogwarts dining hall, as long as the plates were there.
Halfway through their meal, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick arrived to decorate the hall.
Under their magic, the space was quickly transformed into a festive wonderland. The twelve Christmas trees Hagrid had brought in now stood in different corners of the room.
The treetops sparkled—some with candles, others with shimmering icicles, and some with glowing lanterns. Tiny snowflakes swirled through the air like misty wind, drifting among the trees. The delicate ice crystals caught the candlelight, forming a dreamy animation.
Ron and Harry were mesmerized.
Even after dinner, they were still talking about it on the way back.
"I've never seen such a grand Christmas setup. I can't wait for the party!"
Then Ron asked, "Hey, Harry, do Muggles celebrate Christmas too?"
"Of course," Harry started to reply, then froze. He suddenly remembered—he'd never actually experienced a proper holiday dinner. His Christmas memories were just a cupboard and a tiny candle.
Vaughn reached out and lightly smacked Ron on the head.
Ron frowned. "What was that for?"
"Because you're being dense," Vaughn rolled his eyes at him.
Luckily, Harry didn't stay down for long. He followed Vaughn back to the Slytherin common room, then remembered the invisibility cloak he had brought and handed it to Vaughn, asking him to check for anything unusual.
"I'm worried it might be cursed or have some dark magic," Harry said cautiously.
Vaughn examined the silver-gray cloak in the box and gently lifted it. It was so thin and soft that it flowed like liquid the moment it left the box, gleaming like molten mercury.
Deathly Hallows—
Vaughn silently murmured its real name in his heart, eyes filled with curiosity. He unfolded the cloak and put it on. As Harry and Ron gasped, Vaughn's body vanished, leaving only his head visible.
After a moment of careful sensing, Vaughn frowned slightly.
He didn't feel anything particularly special from this so-called Deathly Hallow.
A moment later, he shook his head and handed it back to Harry. "Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with it."
Harry, already wary of Vaughn casually invoking the name of the man in black robes several times, now looked even more anxious. "Could you check again?"
Vaughn pointed to the anonymous note in the box, grinning. "That's Dumbledore's handwriting—I recognize it. You're not seriously worried that he'd hurt you, are you?"
Hearing that, Harry was immediately reassured.
Ron then excitedly convinced Harry to try it on. The two of them soon had fun sneaking around under the invisibility cloak. At one point, they spotted Malfoy outside the door and followed him, pulling his hair and tugging at his robe.
Malfoy panicked and ran away in terror.
Watching from the side, Vaughn continued experimenting with a few revealing spells. The more he tested it, the more convinced he became that this cloak didn't belong in the same league as the Resurrection Stone or the Elder Wand.
All it could do was make someone invisible. In fact, he could still smell cranberry jam on Harry and Ron while they were wearing it.
The only impressive thing was its perfection—it provided absolute invisibility. Vaughn tried multiple revealing spells, and none of them worked.
Still, that didn't mean the cloak was divine.
Vaughn didn't believe for a second that collecting all three Hallows would allow someone to defeat Death. He agreed with Dumbledore's later interpretation—that the Hallows were simply magical heirlooms crafted by the Peverell brothers.
As evening fell, Vaughn dragged Harry and Ron, who still hadn't had enough fun, back to the Great Hall.
By now, all the lanterns were lit, and the hall looked absolutely splendid. Lanterns floated in the air, and instead of a night sky with moonlight, the ceiling now displayed an endless cascade of fireworks.
Although there weren't many students staying at school, making things a bit quiet, the arrival of a delicious and abundant feast quickly warmed the atmosphere.
Most professors had already taken their seats when dinner began—Snape arrived shortly after.
Vaughn couldn't help laughing when he saw him.
"Severus, you finally—huh?" Professor McGonagall stared at Snape's hair in disbelief. "You actually used shampoo?"
It was obvious. The Potions Master's famously greasy, almost clumped hair now flowed like black satin over his shoulders.
Snape's expression was rigid. He glanced away quickly when he caught Vaughn looking at him with a teasing smile.
Then Dumbledore entered, and the moment Vaughn saw what he was wearing, he nearly spit out his pumpkin juice. Ron and Harry both choked on their food.
The greatest wizard of the age was wearing a pastel pink nightgown over his robes. The curvy design—meant to look youthful and warm—just made him appear floppy.
Professor McGonagall was so shocked that she spilled her wine. "Albus—!"
"A student gave it to me. Isn't it lovely?" Dumbledore winked mischievously.
Then, as if struck by inspiration, he plucked the wide-brimmed, flowered hat from Professor McGonagall's head and put it on himself. Clapping his hands with glee, he laughed, "Perfect!"
The entire student body stared in stunned silence.
Ron whispered, "It's over. The headmaster's gone completely crazy—"
Harry actually liked Dumbledore's eccentricity. After a moment of shock, he laughed loudly. Seeing Vaughn's helpless expression, he asked, "Vaughn, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Vaughn replied coldly. "I just regret giving him that nightgown."
It could only be described as… a mistake.
---
Christmas is a day meant for joy. Although everyone quietly questioned the headmaster's sanity, given that he had never quite behaved like a normal person, it was understandable that he might act a little crazier than usual during the holidays.
As Fred and George wheeled in a pile of Cribbage-brand wizard firecrackers, the mood in the hall lifted again.
Firecrackers, similar to Muggle fireworks, burst open with surprises—strange little gifts hidden inside. The twins gleefully picked one up and fired it toward the professors' table.
With a loud bang and a cloud of blue smoke, several white mice and a captain's hats exploded into view.
No one scolded them for their mischief. Dumbledore cheerfully picked up a captain's hat and placed it on Professor McGonagall's head. She took a sip of wine, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Professor Flitwick transformed the white mice into dancing puppets, whirling around the staff table with delight.
Hagrid, stroking his newly-groomed beard, was chatting quietly with Snape. Surprisingly, the usually cold and sarcastic Potions Master accepted a glass of wine from Hagrid. Though his face remained stern, he spoke now and then in short, clipped sentences.
Vaughn also popped open a colorful firecracker, and the mice that burst out excited Haxby, who darted around Vaughn's feet in a frenzy.
Everyone was caught up in the festive spirit. Harry felt all his troubles melt away as he ate and drank heartily, laughing without restraint.
The feast lasted for over an hour. As the night deepened, everyone returned to their dormitories.
Ron, full of meat and juice, snored the moment he hit his bed. Harry, still buzzing with excitement, couldn't fall asleep right away.
It was the first Christmas he'd ever experienced like this. No longer confined to a cupboard, surrounded by people, laughter, and real gifts—it was unforgettable.
Remembering the cloak, Harry lay on his bed for a while before taking it out again.
Moonlight from the window illuminated the fallen note. At the bottom, in what Vaughn had identified as Dumbledore's handwriting, were the words: Please use it well!
Harry thought of the prank they'd pulled on Malfoy earlier and suddenly had a revelation. Looking down at the cool, silken fabric of the cloak—lighter than air—a thought sparked:
With this cloak, he no longer had to fear patrolling professors or dread being caught by Filch—or even Mrs. Norris.
He could roam Hogwarts freely!
In that moment, his mind wandered to the restricted section, the mysterious man in black, and the forbidden room on the fourth floor where the Philosopher's Stone might be hidden. His heart pounded wildly.
Meanwhile, back in the Slytherin common room, Vaughn had just returned when a translucent phoenix Patronus appeared and landed gently on his shoulder.
The Patronus opened its beak and spoke in Dumbledore's cheerful voice: "Vaughn, please come to my office. Password: fudge."
Then it vanished.
Vaughn sighed and rubbed Hexby's soft belly. "Alright, you go rest. I'll go see what the old man wants."
"Meow~"
Hexby rolled over, exposing her belly and hugging his hand with soft, retracted claws, mewing as if to say, Forget him, keep playing!
Unfortunately, her owner was merciless and returned her to the dorm before heading out.
By the time Vaughn arrived at the headmaster's office on the eighth floor, Dumbledore had returned to normal. He was tidily dressed and slipping a knobby wand into his sleeve.
Vaughn cast him a wary glance but said flatly, "Why did you call me here? Going somewhere?"
"Of course not, Vaughn," Dumbledore replied with a wink. "I just wanted to chat. But staying cooped up indoors isn't good for an old man's health. So, my dear boy, care to join me for a stroll around Hogwarts? I hear you're something of an expert in nighttime wanderings."
"I protest," Vaughn said immediately. "Don't slander me. I'm a good student who follows all school rules."
Dumbledore chuckled, took his hand, and murmured a few incantations.
The air thickened briefly as a strange magic surrounded them. Though the discomfort passed quickly, Vaughn sensed something odd—the air and light shimmered slightly, the magic cloaking them in invisibility and sealing them off from the outside world.
"This is an ancient spell. Filius told me he gave you a book on ancient magic. So, are you interested in learning it?"
Vaughn examined the magic surrounding them with interest. He shrugged. "I haven't started on ancient magic yet. Ask me again once I have."
Then, narrowing his eyes, he added, "That book, wasn't it your idea to have Flitwick give it to me?"
Dumbledore shamelessly admitted, "Yes. I told Filius, 'How do we stop a child passionate about magic from falling into the abyss of the dark arts?'"
"And Filius answered, 'Albus, have him study ancient magic. It's powerful, obscure, and exhausting. It'll keep him busy for life!'"
Dumbledore mimicked Flitwick's nasal voice. Vaughn rolled his eyes. The old man was clearly testing him again!
By now, they had left the office and were descending the winding staircase. The enchantment rendered them invisible, inaudible, and unscented.
Letting Dumbledore lead the way, Vaughn replied coldly, "Albus, instead of being on guard all the time, maybe you should consider: Can you really stop a wizard from ever coming into contact with the dark arts?"
"It's impossible. After all, once someone graduates with good marks and passes the Auror exam, they'll be allowed to learn even the Unforgivable Curses. Aurors don't follow your taboos."
It was true.
Aurors were enforcers of the Ministry of Magic's will, not defenders of morality. Their job was to defeat dark wizards, not avoid dark magic.
During the last wizarding war, Barty Crouch, then head of Magical Law Enforcement, had issued a decree permitting Aurors to use any means—including Unforgivable Curses—against Death Eaters.
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment, and Vaughn said no more.
Eventually, Dumbledore spoke again, "You understand how dangerous dark magic is…"
Before he could finish, Vaughn cut in. "Of course I understand. That's why I never asked you or Professor Snape to teach it to me. I'm more cautious than you think. I won't touch it—unless I solve the problem of how it corrupts the mind."
Dumbledore knew he could be overbearing at times.
But Tom Riddle had left him with too many regrets—and too many reasons to worry.
Thinking back to Vaughn's analysis of the wolfsbane potion from Snape that afternoon, Dumbledore felt increasingly conflicted.
In his eyes, Vaughn no longer resembled Voldemort.
That afternoon, he'd sat in his office, staring at the snowy windows, and his thoughts had drifted to the man he once knew in Godric's Hollow—someone who made a blood oath with him and later chose a different path.
Vaughn reminded him of that man.
Ambitious, brilliant, skilled—seeking power and recognition.
Snape had told him how Vaughn dealt with Greyback's thugs with cold calculation, but showed cautious kindness toward rogue werewolves.
That seemingly contradictory behavior only proved the complexity of human nature.
There was no denying it now: Vaughn Weasley was a complicated person.
Snape told Dumbledore that Vaughn's stance made sense. The wolfsbane potion must not fall into the Ministry's hands. Werewolves should fight for their rights on their own.
But Dumbledore could tell it was merely Vaughan's sophistry. While there were indeed practical difficulties in promoting the wolfsbane potion, Vaughan chose to make the formula public only because he had to. At the same time, he made sure no person or organization could monopolize it—because that would dilute his prestige as the inventor of the wolfsbane potion.
He was never truly concerned about the welfare of werewolves, or whether the Ministry of Magic would expand its authority.
Everything Vaughan did was for himself.
Just like Gellert Grindelwald—though there were still notable differences between the two. Dumbledore recalled that he should have left Romania and headed to Albania to continue tracking Quirrell during this trip through the Balkans.
However, after learning the Weasleys were visiting Charlie for Christmas, he decided to stay a bit longer.
Arthur and Molly remained as trusting and open-hearted toward him as ever. When he brought up Vaughan, the proud parents began talking at length.
From them, Dumbledore learned many details about Vaughan's daily behavior.
What intrigued him most was that, despite being a pure-blood wizard who had never lived among Muggles, Vaughan did not harbor prejudice against them.
In Romania, Dumbledore had even been offered a taste of a dish that he hadn't tasted before, prepared by Molly herself.
A wizard who truly despised Muggles wouldn't have painstakingly crafted a recipe rooted in Muggle culture—especially not one originating thousands of miles away from England. As the head of the International Confederation of Wizards, Dumbledore had tasted magical and non-magical cuisines from across the globe.
He turned and looked at Vaughan, who was standing beside him. The light along the steps was dim, and the flickering glow made his face blur in and out of shadow—much like Dumbledore's ever-shifting understanding of the boy. Since their first meeting, he had never truly seen through Vaughan.
And it had nothing to do with Occlumency—but with the boy's mature, complex human nature.
"Human nature—" He murmured the word inwardly, then suddenly asked, "Vaughan, what's your view on human nature?"
Another test?
Vaughan smirked, but gave it some thought before answering, "Nothing too profound. I just think a person has both unimaginable goodness and unimaginable evil within. To borrow a quote I really agree with: Human nature is the sum of divinity and animality."
Dumbledore was a little moved. "Oh, that's quite the elegant summary. Where did you come across it?"
"In a Muggle movie."
Of course, it was from his past life.
Dumbledore seemed to really appreciate the line. He repeated it to himself a few times and sighed, "There are many times I find myself amazed by Muggle wisdom."
After that, he didn't test Vaughan further or bring up the wolfsbane potion again. Instead, they began discussing Muggles.
Dumbledore actually knew relatively little about them. His kindness toward Muggles stemmed more from a protective instinct toward the weak and powerless than from actual familiarity or understanding.
Vaughan noticed this during their conversation—but didn't think Dumbledore's attitude was problematic. In his view, everyone's perspective is shaped by personal experience.
Because of his past life, Vaughan was used to thinking from a Muggle's point of view. But Dumbledore was different.
Years ago, Dumbledore's sister Ariana had been traumatized and bullied by frightened Muggles after accidentally exposing her magic.
Their father, in an attempt to avenge her, cursed the Muggles and was imprisoned in Azkaban, where he eventually died. These events left the young Ariana hating herself. Her inner fear and rejection warped her magic, pulling it into darkness and turning her into a silent killer.
So Dumbledore once harbored deep hatred toward Muggles. Even though the power of love eventually awakened and redeemed him, those early wounds prevented him from fully understanding Muggles.
The knot in his heart remained tightly wound.
Vaughan answered Dumbledore's odd Muggle-related questions with casual ease. At first, he privately wondered: Did Dumbledore really drag him out for a night tour just to chat?
Until they arrived at the second-floor library, where they spotted a floating light sneaking into the restricted section. Having used the Invisibility Cloak earlier that day, Vaughan immediately frowned when he recognized the invisible culprit holding the lantern.
"You're worried about Harry," he said, "Fine, follow him if you want. But why drag me into it?"
Dumbledore replied with interest, "Don't you think it's fun?"
"No. I think it's a waste of time!"
As they talked, Harry opened a book in the restricted section, and magic triggered a shrill, inhuman scream that pierced the darkness. Filch came running gleefully, and Harry had to flee in a panic.
What left Vaughan speechless was that he saw Dumbledore smiling as he subtly used Transfiguration to trip Harry—again and again—guiding him onto a path that led from the second floor all the way to the fifth.
Later, Professor Snape—who was coincidentally patrolling—just happened to know the shortcut.
So Harry, who found himself 'accidentally' cornered by Snape and Filch in a fifth-floor hallway, spotted an open door and ducked inside without hesitation.
It was an abandoned classroom with only one item in the center: The Mirror of Erised.
After watching Harry narrowly escape and barely survive, Vaughan finally relaxed and began to examine the enchanted mirror.
He said helplessly, "Harry's so dense. Anyone else would've been suspicious of that many coincidences."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Not necessarily. Take Ron, for example—"
"…" Vaughan was speechless.