Before he became truly powerful, Vaughn Weasley had no intention of confronting Voldemort alone.
But that didn't mean he would abandon the System's mission.
The task was simple on paper:
Save the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest.
It never said he had to do the saving.
This was Hogwarts.
With Albus Dumbledore on the premises, why would any sane person walk into danger when they could call in the resident nuclear warhead?
So after walking for hours out of the forest, Vaughn parted ways with Hagrid, took a moment to compose his expression—serious, tense, properly heroic—and then went to find Professor McGonagall.
"Mr. Weasley, what—"
"Professor, please take me to see Headmaster Dumbledore. It's urgent."
McGonagall flinched at his tone.
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and turned sharply.
"Follow me."
Up the spiralling stairs of the eighth floor tower they went.
"Chocolate Frog!"
The gargoyle leapt aside.
Dumbledore's Office
It was Vaughn's first time inside.
A bright, circular room.
Arcane instruments ticked and hummed.
Bookshelves curved around the walls.
A tall window overlooked half the grounds.
A phoenix—Fawkes—dozed peacefully on its perch.
Portraits opened their eyes one by one.
"Well, well! The little Slytherin prodigy finally visits!"
A smug voice drawled from a portrait.
Vaughn turned.
Phineas Nigellus Black.
Slytherin's only Headmaster.
Universally disliked.
His noble House nearly extinct.
Vaughn offered him a polite nod.
Then Dumbledore turned around from an armchair by the fire—
lavender robes, knitting needles in hand.
"Ah, Minerva! Mr. Weasley! Wonderful evening, isn't it?"
He waved the half-finished scarf.
"What do you think of the colour? Spent an hour in a Muggle shop, nearly went cross-eyed choosing the palette—"
"AHEM."
McGonagall's voice was a blade.
"Mr. Weasley has something important to report."
Dumbledore blinked, mildly startled, and looked to Vaughn with genuine curiosity.
Their only notable interaction so far had been the awkward "toilet room" incident.
Dumbledore hadn't expected the boy to come seeking him so soon.
Vaughn stepped forward and placed a small crystal vial on the desk.
Dumbledore's smile faded.
"Mr. Weasley… what is this?"
Vaughn drew his wand.
"Aparecium."
The soil sample lit up.
A soft white glow spread across the surface—
then gray tendrils of cursed magic wriggled within it.
The portraits gasped.
Dumbledore rose, robes whispering.
"Minerva," he said quietly, "you may return to your duties. Mr. Weasley has brought something serious."
McGonagall sent Vaughn one last worried glance before leaving.
Once the door shut, Dumbledore turned sharply.
"Where did you find this?"
His blue eyes, normally warm, became diamond-sharp.
Vaughn felt a peculiar pressure—
a gentle, ghostlike touch against the edges of his thoughts.
Legilimency… but only an emotional probe.
Checking whether I'm lying.
He kept his mind calm.
"In the Forbidden Forest," Vaughn said steadily.
"I went to visit Hagrid and found traces of dark magic in unicorn blood. No creature can corrupt blood like this. Only a wizard."
Dumbledore's face tightened.
"You know unicorn blood is cursed."
"Yes, Headmaster. But that hasn't stopped some from trying to brew it into potions. Most such potions aim to become—"
"Elixirs of Immortality," Dumbledore finished quietly.
Then, without wand or incantation, he reached out.
The white glow parted like mist.
The gray corruption drifted into his palm—
weightless, writhing.
Vaughn stared.
Wordless, wandless magic…
not even a ripple of pressure in the air.
Even among legendary wizards, this was rare.
Dumbledore studied the dark aura, then flicked his hand.
It dissolved instantly.
"This is grave indeed," he finally said.
"I must inspect the scene myself."
He extended an arm.
"Fawkes."
The phoenix glided down.
"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said warmly, "there are sweets on the table. Help yourself. I shall return shortly."
A burst of flames—
and he was gone.
Vaughn wandered behind the desk, found a plate of chocolates, and helped himself without shame.
After trekking through that forest?
I deserve this.
Around him, portraits murmured.
Then—
"Psst! Oi! Boy!"
Vaughn looked up.
Phineas Nigellus Black leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"To sense dark magic in unicorn blood… You're no innocent child."
He smirked.
"I like that. A Slytherin who fears the shadows is no Slytherin at all."
He lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"I have an offer. Do something for me, and I'll tell you where to find the Black family ancestral home. Shelves upon shelves of forbidden knowledge—dark, ancient, powerful. Yours for the taking. All you must do is—"
WHAM!
A white-bearded portrait suddenly dove into the frame and tackled him.
"You MISERABLE SCOUNDREL!"
the old wizard barked, raining blows.
"Troublemaker when alive, troublemaker in death!"
"OW! OW! YOU MANGY OLD BADGER—STOP HITTING ME!"
Phineas howled, flailing wildly.
The portraits rolled, brawling savagely.
Vaughn sipped his tea.
The tapestry shook.
The portraits screamed.
A phoenix feather drifted peacefully.
He had to admit—
This was the most entertaining moment he'd had all day.
(End of Chapter 39)
PS :
Aparecium – Revealing charm used to expose invisible magic traces.
Unicorn Blood (Corrupted) – Evidence of dark magic; ties directly to Voldemort's survival attempts.
Fawkes (Phoenix Apparition) – Phoenix transport bypasses Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards.
Phineas Nigellus Black – Former Headmaster of Hogwarts; mischievous, arrogant, delighted by dark arts.
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