In the beginning, Vaughn had actually considered becoming a proper rising star in conventional potioneering.
Unfortunately, there were simply too many heavyweights in that field.
The standard healing brews Vaughn initially made—like Pepperup Potions and Blood-Replenishing Potions—couldn’t compete at all with established potioneers.
Apothecaries weren’t even willing to take his stock, let alone push his products.
Until one day, he watched his mother washing Ginny’s hair, complaining that Ginny’s hair was growing so thick that she had to buy Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion.
Inspiration had struck like a bolt of lightning, opening up a bright and sunny path ahead.
Was there any easier way to make money than targeting women and children?
None whatsoever!
Facts proved that witches were women first and foremost.
Their pursuit of beauty and dread of aging made them far more willing to part with their gold than wizards ever were!
Even though eight-year-old Vaughn had possessed zero fame back then, witches were still eager to try his “Vaughn’s Beauty” products.
By now, he had developed them into a full product line.
Not only did this bring him fame, but it also netted him several hundred Gold Galleons every month!
“Vaughn, darling, are you finished?”
A knock at the door interrupted Vaughn’s thoughts.
He closed the system panel, stacking the vials of Beautifying Potion into an emptied wooden crate while replying, “All done, Mum!
Is Madam Primpernelle’s owl here?”
The attic door pushed open, and plump Molly stepped inside.
She patted Vaughn’s bright red hair affectionately.
“The owl is waiting downstairs.
Your father is feeding it treats, so no need to rush.”
Saying this, she pulled a coin pouch from her apron and placed it on the workstation.
“Here’s the payment the owl brought.
Keep it safe, Vaughn.”
“Mum, you should keep it…”
“No!” Molly refused sternly, though her expression quickly softened as she pulled Vaughn into a warm, broad hug.
“My sweet boy, how could this family keep taking your money?
Your father and I said long ago that whatever you, Bill, or Charlie earn belongs to you.
Besides, you’ve already given us more than enough.”
Ever since Vaughn started making money and offered to contribute to the household, variations of this conversation had occurred countless times.
The outcome was almost always the same: under Molly’s insistence, Vaughn had no choice but to keep the pouch.
It had to be said that whether reading the books in his past life or experiencing it firsthand now, though the Weasleys were poor, Arthur and Molly were exemplary parents.
With Molly’s help, the crate was packed and secured with a charm to keep the glass vials inside from breaking.
Vaughn picked up the box and followed Molly downstairs.
On the ground floor, Arthur had finished feeding the owl and was sitting at the dining table reading the *Daily Prophet*.
“Good morning, Dad!”
“Good morning, Vaughn!
Hurry over, the little fellow’s getting impatient.”
“If you knew it was getting impatient, why didn’t you go upstairs and help Vaughn pack?” Molly bellowed.
“Arthur Weasley, what else do you do every morning besides read that paper?
Poor dear Vaughn works so hard, brewing potions for days at a time, and you, his father, never help him or do any house chores…”
Under Molly’s booming voice, Arthur quickly hid his head behind his newspaper again.
Thus, a new day began amid Molly’s familiar scolding and the heavy rustle of the owl’s wings as it strained to carry the crate away.
It was a comforting, routine scene.
Vaughn went to wash up with practiced composure.
As he passed the magically enchanted full-length mirror, it immediately began to quiver.
“Shut it!
Not a word!” Vaughn drew his old wand and pointed it threateningly at the glass.
The mirror froze instantly.
Only after Vaughn walked away did a faint, barely audible murmur rustle from it: *”Scruffy little boy…”*
By the time he finished washing up, the others had been called downstairs by Molly.
A freckle-faced boy was about to duck into the washroom.
Catching sight of Vaughn, his expression stiffened slightly.
Vaughn smiled at him.
“Good morning, Ron!”
“…” Ron puffed out his cheeks and muttered, “Morning, Vaughn.”
“Where are your manners?
Call him your older brother!” Molly barked.
Ron’s face flushed as red as his hair, and he grumbled, “You were only born five minutes before me…”
Vaughn’s smile widened.
He still remembered the scene of their birth; Ron was supposed to come out first, but Vaughn had felt cramped in the womb and couldn’t resist kicking him…
As the two stood in a mild standoff, a pair of identical twins vibrantly appeared behind Ron, slinging their arms over his shoulders from left and right like Aurors escorting a prisoner.
“Five minutes earlier is still older than you, right, George?”
“Spot on, Fred.
Just like I’m ten seconds older than you, yet you still have to call me brother.”
“You’ve slept yourself silly, George—I’m the one ten seconds older than you.”
“I am!”
Dazed and annoyed by their banter, Ron fumed.
Fortunately, Ginny ran over at that moment and threw her arms happily around Vaughn.
Ron seized the chance to mutter something under his breath and dived headfirst into the washroom.
“Good morning, Vaughn!”
“Good morning, Ginny.” Vaughn kissed his little sister’s forehead.
In the entire house, his relationship with Ginny was the closest.
On one hand, by the time Ginny was born, he had grown accustomed to his transmigrated life and genuinely embraced his new family; on the other hand, the two shared the strongest resemblance and carried the aesthetic crown of the Weasley family.
When they were younger, Arthur and Molly used to joke that Vaughn and Ginny looked like the actual twins, whereas Vaughn and Ron—the real twins—didn’t look alike at all.
The noisy morning refused to quiet down even after breakfast was served.
Yet today was different from usual: Arthur wasn’t rushing off to work at the Ministry of Magic.
Percy, who usually vanished into his room right after eating to bury his nose in books, sat by the window staring outside.
Fred and George, who normally snuck out to cause trouble, sat obediently in their dining chairs, pulling faces at Vaughn and taking turns teasing Ron.
And Ron, who would usually be driven to tears by their antics and go into hiding, endured it quietly without leaving the table.
The whole family was waiting—waiting for the Hogwarts letters!
By the time the sunlight crested the hills and bathed The Burrow in bright warmth, the distinct sound of flapping wings finally echoed outside.
Molly, who had appeared calm on the surface but was entirely distracted, scrambled up to open the window.
Arthur set down his newspaper, pulling out the remaining owl treats from the morning.
A moment later, an owl swooped inside and landed squarely on the dining table.
Tied to its leg were two heavy parchment envelopes.
Even before untying them, one could clearly see the prominent purple wax seal and the crest featuring a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter ‘H’.
Molly excitedly untied the letters and glanced at the backs.
Unable to contain her joy, she sighed repeatedly, “Thank Merlin!
It’s the Hogwarts acceptance letters!
I was worried sick since yesterday, wondering what we’d do if they didn’t come!”
Arthur, who had leaned forward but failed to beat Molly to the letters, tried his best to maintain an airy composure.
“You always worry over nothing.
How could Vaughn possibly not get into Hogwarts?”
“I was worried about Ron!” Molly countered.
“You have no idea how terrified I was that he wouldn’t get a letter!
That boy’s been like a stone since he was little—his accidental magic outbursts were barely noticeable…”
“Mum!”
Ron’s face turned as red as his hair.
He hurriedly snatched the letters, tossed Vaughn’s over, and clutched his own tightly before fleeing upstairs.
Vaughn watched the scene with a chuckle, unbothered as he picked up his letter and turned it over.
[The Burrow, The Dining Room, Mr.
Vaughn Weasley]
At that exact moment, his system panel flashed into view.
[Main Quest Activated] [Main Quest 1: Enroll in Hogwarts (Incomplete)] [Reward: Talent Point × 1, Magic Power Scale + 50]