Vaughn spent the entire remaining day in Professor Snape's office.
There were no interruptions, no classes, no curious students peeking in—just the two of them, hunched over simmering cauldrons, parchment notes, distilled essences, and flickering torchlight.
Vaughn held nothing back.
If he wanted Snape's cooperation—and he very much did—there was no point hiding anything.
The Foundation of the Method
"The idea behind the magic extraction method," Vaughn explained, "came from my earliest attempts at brewing. I kept asking myself: what exactly makes a potion work?"
He stirred the cauldron lazily with his wand as he spoke, completely at ease.
"Which part of each ingredient delivers its effect?
Which parts are inert?
Which parts are actively harmful?"
He said it casually.
Snape knew better.
To identify effective components, Vaughn would have needed dozens of controlled trials—like a Muggle pharmacologist.
Adjusting ingredient purity.
Altering ratios.
Inflicting wounds on test rats.
Healing. Failing. Repeating.
Examining blood, tissue, breath.
Snape could imagine it all with chilling clarity.
And, of course, being who he was, he had no moral objections whatsoever.
He had done far worse.
From Potions to Transfiguration
"Once I determined which components actually mattered," Vaughn said, tapping the cauldron, "I began working backward—trying to extract those specific traits directly from the source."
"And that," he continued, "is where Transfiguration came into play."
Snape watched sharply.
The moment Vaughn channelled magic into the cauldron, Snape felt it—
a faint impression of shapes, textures, structures forming at the back of his mind.
Yes.
It did resemble Transfiguration—
but a version ten times harder, because a potion wasn't a single object.
It was dozens of interacting materials, each with its own magical nature.
Controlling his output without disturbing the balance was hellishly difficult.
Snape's brow dampened with sweat.
But Snape was Snape.
With decades of mastery, and deep familiarity with base ingredients, he succeeded—
on the sixth attempt.
He withdrew his wand.
Inside the cauldron, the materials had separated into clean layers of essence.
Vaughn stepped forward, stirred five times clockwise, flicked his wand—
And the potion dissolved into a clear, crystalline blue.
Snape stared.
Long enough that the torches crackled nervously.
At last, he muttered:
"…Too difficult."
He wasn't being modest.
"This method demands more than potion-brewing talent," Snape said. "It requires strong aptitude for Transfiguration…"
He hesitated.
"…and an exceptional understanding of ingredient properties."
"Exactly," Vaughn sighed.
"I once shared this method with a potion master who agreed with my theory. He tried again and again—but couldn't do it. That's when I realised it's still far from refined."
Snape's expression tightened.
"But," he said quietly, "it is valuable."
Vaughn smiled.
Both men understood:
no technique was perfect at birth.
All innovations passed through the same stages—prototype, refinement, standardisation.
What mattered was whether the idea carried potential.
And this one clearly did.
Future Plans
Snape's voice returned to its usual cool neutrality.
"Do you have a development plan?"
"I do. But it will be difficult."
"Speak."
"I need access to more ingredients. Higher-tier potions. Rare materials. The more structures I understand, the more accurate the method becomes."
Snape nodded once.
"And beyond that?"
"There's a spell," Vaughn said. "One that would greatly help. Professor—I'd like you to teach me."
Snape already knew.
"Scarpin's Revelaspell?"
"Exactly."
The air grew still.
Snape's voice dropped to a warning growl.
"You realise the Ministry restricts that charm for a reason.
Revelaspell threatens the entire economic foundation of the potioneering world."
"I know," Vaughn said lightly. "But I want it purely for research."
Snape studied him for a long, long moment.
Then:
"…What else?"
Vaughn inhaled.
Time for the real request.
"I want to study advanced spell theory."
Snape blinked—not in surprise, but in recognition.
"As it stands, the magic extraction method is too difficult for most. I want to develop a unified model—identify structural patterns across ingredients, and eventually, express that model in spell form."
The dream he'd envisioned two years ago.
The reason he'd targeted Snape from the very beginning.
And Vaughn knew:
Snape would never refuse an ambitious student with genuine talent.
Sure enough, after a long silence, Snape said:
"Come again next Saturday.
Now—go."
Vaughn bowed.
"Thank you, Professor."
He reached the doorway—
Then paused.
"Professor, how will you get Dumbledore's approval? From what I've heard… he isn't fond of Slytherins. He may not want you teaching me advanced spells."
Snape stood with his back to the fire—the dungeon's only light—his expression hidden.
Only his low voice drifted through the shadows:
"He will agree, Vaughn Weasley."
A beat.
"As far as I know… Dumbledore is very fond of your tendency to wander among all four Houses."
"…Is that so?"
Vaughn blinked.
Then shrugged.
So the great White Wizard was watching him closely.
Tom Riddle's legacy must have carved deep paranoia into Dumbledore's bones.
Still—Vaughn wasn't bothered.
He had no intention of abandoning his ambitions just to keep Dumbledore comfortable.
If the old man wanted to observe him, let him.
But—
The idea that his behaviour had been interpreted as "a loving heart" genuinely offended him.
Love? Kindness?
Rubbish!
I just like mooching snacks off the Ravenclaw girls!
Feeling deeply slandered, Vaughn marched right back to Ravenclaw Tower that night.
He spent the evening laughing, teasing, and snacking with the upper-year girls until they finally shooed him out—Guo Guo Tea tucked under his arm like a spoiled prince.
(End of Chapter )
PS ; Scarpin's Revelaspell – A restricted revelation charm capable of analysing and exposing potion composition.