Over the next few days, Vaughn’s life at Hogwarts fell into a comfortable rhythm.
Attending classes daily, answering the professors’ questions, and receiving their feedback satisfied his thirst for knowledge.
In their very first Charms class on opening day, his masterful execution of the Levitation Charm had earned high praise from Professor Flitwick.
The Charms master, who was rumored to have goblin ancestry, had also personally inspected Vaughn’s notebook.
However, he had not invited Vaughn to join his Charms Club.
“Your magic is still growing, Mr.
Vaughn Weasley.
Young wizards of your age need to practice basic spells deeply; highly advanced research would actually be counterproductive,” Professor Flitwick had squeaked to Vaughn at the time.
“But I promise, once you reach your third year, I will invite you to join—provided you have the time.
After all, the Transfiguration Club will likely demand a great deal of your energy.”
To show his appreciation for Vaughn’s spellcasting prowess, he had awarded Slytherin twenty points on the spot.
This made Vaughn very happy.
He didn’t want to miss a single opportunity to earn points, all because the System had activated a new task after Main Quest ①!
[Main Quest ②: Help Slytherin win the House Cup by the end of this school year] [Rewards: 1 Talent Point, 50 units of Magic Power]
It might not look too difficult at first glance, but anyone familiar with the future knew this was practically set to hell difficulty…
The greatest white wizard of the age was currently grooming his Savior, and he was more than willing to shamelessly hand out points like candy at the end of the year to do so.
Although this blatant favoritism would only happen this once throughout the next few years, it directly conflicted with the System’s quest.
Vaughn couldn’t think of a perfect solution just yet, but he wasn’t about to give up.
He would just have to do his best for now.
Two days passed, including a mind-numbing History of Magic class.
Professor Binns’s hypnotic lecturing style deeply impressed Vaughn; he only managed to stay awake for half the class before drifting off.
Despite that, he still earned five points from Professor Binns.
Even if the professor had called him by the wrong name.
He also sat through a remarkably mundane Astronomy class.
Supposedly, Astronomy was a core subject because it served as the foundation for Divination.
Out of sheer respect for his abysmal Divination talent score of “2”, Vaughn shamelessly plagiarized the astronomical knowledge he remembered from his past life.
This left Professor Sinistra utterly astounded, though she was deeply puzzled as to why Vaughn kept debating whether the solar system had eight planets or nine.
Then there was Professor Sprout’s Herbology class, which was exceptionally interesting.
Of course, she didn’t have the first-years do any practical work during their first lesson.
Instead, she took them on a tour of the Hogwarts greenhouses, giving them a brief introduction to the various magical plants growing inside.
But the students were far more captivated by the greenhouses themselves than the plants.
Expanded with an Undetectable Extension Charm, the structures were divided into distinct biomes—forests, wetlands, highlands, and deserts—to accommodate the varying habitats of the magical flora.
It felt like stepping into a dream world.
In this class, relying on his rote memorization of the textbooks, Vaughn secured twenty points, matched only by Hermione.
Surprisingly, Gryffindor’s Neville harbored an unexpected passion for Herbology.
He actually managed to earn ten points…
Fortunately, that very evening, Gryffindor lost twenty points because Fred and George were caught pulling a prank in the corridors.
Thank goodness!
Even more to be thankful for was the Defense Against the Dark Arts class that followed.
Professor Quirrell, with a massive turban wrapped around his head, was thoroughly disliked by everyone because he constantly reeked of garlic.
His teaching left much to be desired, as he did little more than read straight from the textbook.
When Gryffindor’s Seamus Finnigan pressed him for details on how he had defeated a zombie, he began to ramble incoherently.
Vaughn stepped in to bail him out of the awkward situation, for which Professor Quirrell was incredibly grateful, awarding Slytherin ten points.
A moment later, as if suffering from sudden amnesia, he awarded Slytherin another ten points.
Ron wagered with Harry, “…He must have had his brains sucked dry by a vampire!”
But Vaughn knew the real reason.
That second ten-point bonus was probably ordered by the “Socket-face” himself.
Speaking of which, Voldemort truly harbored a deep, profound love for Hogwarts and Slytherin.
Back in his heyday, his greatest wish had been to teach at Hogwarts.
When he was rejected, he promptly placed a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
*If I can’t have it, no one can!*
Truly a match made in heaven.
Time flew, and Friday arrived.
It was the final class of their first week: Potions!
From early morning, Harry and Ron had been sighing in misery.
“I don’t think Professor Snape likes me,” Harry said.
“I mean, at the start-of-term feast, the way he looked at me…
it was terrifying!”
“Don’t be silly, Harry.
I think he looks at everyone like they owe him 500 Gold Galleons,” Ron replied.
“I heard he’s incredibly biased toward Slytherin.
Hmph, Vaughn must be thrilled!”
Ron couldn’t help but glance toward the Ravenclaw table, his expression sour.
Indeed, Vaughn was sitting at Ravenclaw’s table today.
Before their first week of school had even concluded, the first-years had already identified the greatest anomaly among them: Vaughn Weasley!
When he sat at the Gryffindor table on the first day, everyone assumed he had only gone there because his last name was Weasley.
But by the second day, they realized how naive they had been.
He had actually migrated over to Hufflepuff, getting along remarkably well with those sweet little badgers.
It was even rumored that he had paid a late-night visit to the Hufflepuff common room.
This rumor had originated from Ron, who had been told by Vaughn that the Hufflepuff common room was located right next to the Hogwarts kitchens.
And so, before a single week was out, Vaughn Weasley—this formidable boy—had already graced every single House table with his presence!
Now, every morning when the students gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast, they would first scan the tables to see where the redhead was sitting that day.
This bizarre new habit quickly spread across all year levels, turning into a daily spectacle.
But what baffled people the most was…
No matter which House table Vaughn visited, there was always at least one person with whom he could strike up a lively conversation.
Slytherin had Malfoy (though Mr.
Malfoy wasn’t entirely willing), Hufflepuff had Cedric, and Gryffindor had even more.
Hearing the silver bell-like laughter of Penelope, the Ravenclaw prefect, over at their table, Ron curled his lip.
“Hmph.
He’s loved playing with girls since he was little.
He hasn’t changed a bit.”
As he spoke, he watched Hermione suddenly snap, slamming her book shut with a loud thud.
“Then why don’t you, as his younger brother, talk to him instead of just standing here gossiping?”
Ron was bewildered.
“Are you mad?
What does that have to do with me?”
But Hermione seemed to have eaten gunpowder.
Shifting targets, her thin lips fired off a rapid barrage of words.
“What do you two do besides gossip and complain behind people’s backs?
If you’re so worried about Professor Snape being biased, why didn’t you do more preparation?
It’s already been a week since term started…”
After a thoroughly satisfying tongue-lashing, the girl clutched her book and stormed off.
Left completely dazed by the outburst, an irritated Ron said, “She’s absolutely mental.
It’s not like I forced Vaughn to chat up other girls, so why is she shouting at me?
Just watch, once class starts, she’ll be all smiles and chatty with Vaughn again.
Silly girl!”
Sure enough, he was proven right.
In Potions class, Vaughn, who was sitting next to Hermione again, coaxed her into a bright smile with just a few choice words.
But despite predicting the outcome, Ron and Harry couldn’t find it in themselves to be happy.
Because their other prediction had also come true—
“Ah, yes,” Snape said softly.
“Harry—Potter.”
In the dark dungeon, Professor Snape, half-submerged in the shadows, stared intently at Harry with his cold, pitch-black eyes.