After the International Statute of Secrecy was enacted, the wizarding world behaved like ostriches—burying their heads in the sand.
They lost themselves in a false peace and prosperity bought through endless concessions. They praised life's fragility, indulged in the material abundance granted by magic, and drifted through existence in a drunken dream—content to remain forever secluded in a tiny corner of the world.
Yet they ignored a simple truth: only competition brings progress.
Viewed from the broad sweep of history, survival of the fittest runs like a spine through human civilization. No nation, no group, has ever secured its future through perpetual compromise and retreat. Those who cannot live in adversity are eventually eliminated.
That said, Vaughn was not, at his core, someone who cared deeply about the survival of the magical world itself.
What he had always pursued was magic.
"Guoguo Tea," Vaughn murmured softly, "I love magic. I want to understand all its secrets—its truths, its knowledge, its power."
Curled beside him, Guoguo Tea lifted her head slightly, listening.
"I want to unravel the mystery of magic's origin. I want to reach the very end of magic one day—to stand at its highest peak and see what this world truly looks like…" Vaughn exhaled slowly. "But I know I can't do it alone."
Human effort had its limits.
Even with the System, Vaughn did not believe he could push magic to its ultimate extreme by himself.
"I need others to help me—the more, the better. Any knowledge system can only develop through collective effort and shared wisdom. But the current magical world simply can't do that."
"It's inefficient. Disorganized. Centuries of illusory peace have robbed everyone of urgency and cohesion. There's no shared will, no competitive spirit."
"Guoguo Tea, I realized long ago that if I wanted to keep advancing along the path of magic… I would have to change the magical world itself."
Guoguo Tea wriggled closer and let out a soft sound.
"Meow~"
Vaughn smiled faintly.
"Yes. It's difficult. But fortunately, we live at a critical turning point. The Muggle world is on the brink of an information revolution."
"The internet is reshaping everything. Before long, mobile phones and networks will be everywhere. As Muggle technology accelerates, maintaining the Statute of Secrecy will become increasingly untenable."
"In a few years, a single photo—a short video—will spread across the entire world faster than you can imagine. Even if the Ministry cooperates with Muggle governments to suppress information, as long as wizards still interact with Muggle society, the cost of concealment will continue to rise… until no one can bear it anymore, and cooperation collapses."
"In my view, the magical world has only two possible futures."
"The first—total severance. Wizards completely cut off contact with Muggle society, gather in a handful of settlements, forbid any return to the Muggle world, and even close Hogwarts to new students."
His voice lowered, then stopped.
He looked down at Guoguo Tea gazing up at him, scratched her chin gently, and felt her cling to his hand.
"No," Vaughn said quietly. "I don't like that future. From the very beginning, my choice was always the second path."
"To abolish the Statute of Secrecy, integrate the magical world, and take the initiative—forcing the convergence of wizard and Muggle societies."
"And that choice makes war inevitable."
Though Vaughn considered himself more of a researcher than a politician, and disliked war even more than politics, reality left him no alternative.
To push magic to its limits, he needed integration. To expand magic's potential, the magical world itself had to expand.
Abolishing the Statute, merging societies, spreading magic, and correcting the wizarding population's fatal scarcity—these were unavoidable.
And such change would inevitably bring conflict.
Conflicts of belief.
Conflicts of interest.
Perhaps even conflicts over the right of entire species to exist.
Even in the Muggle world, any nation that tried to rise was immediately surrounded by predators. How much more so for wizards—beings so different from ordinary humans that they were almost a separate species?
Once Muggles learned of magic's existence, fear or greed would resurface, and history would repeat itself—just as it had centuries ago.
This was humanity's fundamental flaw, unchanged since antiquity.
Long ago, Vaughn had considered a peaceful path—using memory magic to alter the thinking of Muggle elites, leveraging governments to reduce the damage of integration.
But experiments and reflection forced him to abandon the idea.
First, the magical limitations: aside from the Memory Charm, memory magic was not permanent. Human memory seemed to have a kind of soul-level backup. The more it was altered, the more likely it was to self-correct.
The Imperius Curse could achieve permanent control—but as Dark Magic, its corruption and massive magical cost made it untenable.
Second, decisions that shaped humanity's fate could not be controlled by a handful of individuals. No matter how powerful, a minority could not permanently dictate the will of the masses.
That was why Vaughn had changed direction—pushing for the creation of the Werewolf Affairs Committee, and stepping directly into magical politics.
Compared to the vast, complex Muggle world, wizards were—relatively speaking—simple.
This had nothing to do with morality or enlightenment. It was pure demographics. England had only tens of thousands of wizards, compared to over sixty million Muggles.
Yet even in this "simple" environment, Vaughn knew unifying everyone would still be nearly impossible.
Hardliners who clung to the Statute would always exist.
Pure-blood families.
And—
Dumbledore.
Thoughts tangled in his mind as Vaughn stroked Guoguo Tea's fur, staring at the canopy above his bed.
Guoguo Tea listened quietly as he murmured:
"Dumbledore's premonition of death… it's probably connected to me. Our beliefs are fundamentally opposed. It seems that in the future, I failed to persuade him. In the end, we aren't walking the same road."
"…What a pity."
Sensing the complexity of his emotions, Guoguo Tea pressed her large head under his chin, rubbing gently.
"Meow, meow~"
"I'm fine," Vaughn said softly. "Just… a little sad."
The path of magic was lonely.
Wizards Vaughn truly respected were already few—and long companionship inevitably bred attachment.
Still, he would never abandon his ideals for sentiment.
In that sense, he too was an idealist.
As for death premonitions and destined futures—those lay far in the uncertain distance. Vaughn's attitude toward fate had always been the same: respect it, then try to control it.
As night deepened, curfew arrived. The magical lights in the dormitory dimmed, then went out.
In the darkness, only Vaughn's open eyes still glimmered faintly with magical light.
The miserable Easter holiday finally ended—but no student celebrated.
For fifth-years facing O.W.L.s and seventh-years bracing for N.E.W.T.s, the end of the break meant only one thing: one month left.
Other years fared little better. Professors had no intention of letting students advance by fooling around. Many hadn't finished the holiday assignments at all.
Among them—Harry and Ron.
Fortunately, Hogwarts had no class monitors. Homework was collected directly by professors during lessons.
In the final days of the holiday, Harry and Ron had crammed just enough to finish assignments for Monday and Tuesday—History of Magic, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Charms.
They left Potions for last.
Even after Hermione's deductions cleared Snape of suspicion, neither of them liked him.
On Tuesday, Harry stormed back into the common room, furious.
When Hermione and Ron asked why he hadn't gone to training, Harry snapped:
"I've never met anyone more infuriating than that greasy bat! Today was supposed to be our turn on the pitch, but he abused his Head of House privileges and gave it to Slytherin!"
"That's shameless!" Ron immediately agreed. "Didn't you and Wood go to Professor McGonagall? If Snape can approve it, she can too."
Harry deflated. "We did. She refused. Snape told her in advance and got her approval… Honestly, she's too upright. How could she believe Slytherin suddenly changed tactics and desperately needed special training?"
Ron snorted. "That's our Head of House—so fair it borders on stubborn. That's why we always get bullied—"
"Ronald!" Hermione snapped.
Ron shut up instantly and changed the subject. "Er—maybe it's good you didn't train. You've got Defence Against the Dark Arts tomorrow. At least you can finish your homework without staying up all night."
Harry covered his forehead. "I don't want to go to DADA."
"Why?"
"You know why. I always pitied Quirrell—thought he was kind to me. Turns out he's the one who cursed me and nearly killed me. I… I'm afraid I won't control myself."
They'd already agreed not to alert him—observe in secret until Quirrell made his move for the Stone.
Now was the worst possible time to provoke him.
Ron's mind, always agile when it came to bad ideas, immediately supplied one.
"Then take sick leave. We'll find Fred and George—get you a Skiving Sweet. Three pints of blood sprayed everywhere, and even Madam Pomfrey won't let you attend class."
Under normal circumstances, Hermione would've rejected this outright.
This time, the trio unanimously approved.
When Ron grabbed the twins' doorknob—
His red hair exploded upward. His body convulsed violently. He collapsed.
The twins had struck again.
By the time Vaughn arrived at the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall's sharp Scottish voice was already echoing through the ward.
And lying on the bed, stiff as a board—
Was Ron Weasley.
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