The next day, Saturday.
Vaughn, who was gracing Gryffindor with his presence today, spotted Harry and Ron early in the morning heading toward the Forbidden Forest, with Hermione trailing behind them carrying a heavy load of books.
“I’m going to watch you,” was her reply when they asked.
Ron felt Hermione was definitely out for revenge, planning to watch their every move and report them to the professors the moment they made a mistake.
But Harry didn’t think so.
“Hermione cares about house points more than anything.
She wouldn’t just wait for us to make a mistake and lose Gryffindor points.”
“Then what on earth is she doing?
Merlin’s beard, every time I look back, I see someone lurking behind us.
Do you know how terrifying that is?”
Harry didn’t want to know.
Together, they went to Hagrid’s hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid welcomed them warmly, and Hermione joined them inside, though she spoke almost exclusively to Hagrid, ignoring Harry and Ron the entire time.
There, Harry spotted a newspaper reporting a break-in at Gringotts.
Looking at the date, it was the exact day he and Hagrid had visited the bank.
Recalling that Hagrid had retrieved something from Gringotts that day, Harry quickly connected the two events.
On their way back, he tapped the newspaper and said to Ron and Hermione, “The person who broke into Gringotts might have been looking for the very thing Hagrid took.
He was so secretive about it, only saying it was highly important.”
“Look at the report here: ‘The vault searched by the intruder had in fact been emptied earlier that same day.’ It fits perfectly!
Vault 713!
There was only a grubby little package inside, and Hagrid took it.
Emptying it is exactly what he did!”
“Cool!” Ron whistled.
Only then did Harry seem to remember something, looking expectantly at his two friends.
“Uh, Hagrid told me not to tell anyone about this.
You’ll keep it a secret, right?”
“Strictly confidential!” Ron declared, chest puffed out as he patted it firmly, only to end up coughing.
Hermione sniffed.
“My lips are sealed.”
Yes, and that was exactly what Harry had told Hagrid at the time.
So the very next day, Vaughn found out…
“The Philosopher’s Stone…”
Vaughn went to the library, found a book detailing this wondrous alchemical artifact, and fell into deep thought as he stared at the illustrations.
Unlike the opinions of many in his past life who read fan fiction and deemed it insignificant, the more Vaughn studied magic, the more he realized how astonishing the Philosopher’s Stone truly was.
It could transmute matter, achieving what even the most advanced Transfiguration could not: altering the very nature of a substance to turn any metal into pure gold.
The Elixir of Life brewed from it was also the only proven, concrete method known to conquer death.
Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle Flamel, had lived for over six hundred years because of it…
Six whole centuries!
Was there anything more incredible in the wizarding world?
Of course, that immortality seemed to come with side effects.
Vaughn recalled watching *Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them* in his past life, where Flamel made an appearance.
He was a comical old man suffering from severe osteoporosis.
“It’s said the Flamels live in seclusion in Devon.
My family home is also in Devon, but unfortunately, I don’t have a precise location.
Besides, with how cautious they are, their hideout is probably protected by magic like the Fidelius Charm, making it impossible for anyone else to find.”
“Otherwise, I would have loved to pay him a visit and have a good chat.”
Vaughn had not yet delved into alchemy.
Though the Hogwarts library had introductory books on this even more mysterious subject, Vaughn found them highly bewildering.
Large sections babbled about “spiritual journeys” and creation out of nothingness, reading like the drunken ramblings of some eccentric.
Vaughn closed the book and was about to leave when the system panel popped up before his eyes.
[New Quest Activated] [Side Quest 1: Obtain the Philosopher’s Stone] [Reward: Alchemy Talent]
“…”
Vaughn was somewhat speechless; the tasks given by this system were getting more and more ridiculous.
The Philosopher’s Stone was currently the focal point of both the Dark Lord and the Leader of the Light.
He would have to be mad to make a move on it.
Ignoring the system panel, Vaughn returned the book.
Seeing that it was getting late, he hurried to Professor Snape’s office.
Truth be told, Vaughn thought Snape’s taste was truly dreadful.
Be it the Potions classroom or his office, both were located in the darkest, grimmest parts of Hogwarts Castle.
Stepping into the corridor, he felt an immediate chill all around him.
With taste like this, how could he have ever competed with James Potter?
No girl would ever fancy him!
But when Vaughn pushed open the office door and saw shelves packed with potion ingredients and jars of completed drafts…
It was absolutely glorious!
It was genuinely fragrant.
Many assumed potion ingredients would smell awful because of their bizarre nature, but when processed, most actually emitted a unique, aromatic scent.
Not to mention those bottles displayed in the potion cabinets, reflecting the firelight of the hearth and gleaming like liquid crystals!
Snape still wore his usual poker face, standing in the corner like a specter, gazing coldly at Vaughn.
Only when he saw Vaughn gazing obsessively at the potions did a faint trace of a smirk cross his face—
It had been well worth the painstaking effort of spending two days sorting through his private collection to stock the newly purchased cabinet!
It had been no easy task; the ingredients had to be rare, yet not appear overly ostentatious, and they had to hold educational value!
“Professor, your office is an absolute treasure trove!” Vaughn praised sincerely.
Snape suddenly felt a wave of satisfaction.
It reminded him of Friday evening, when he had visited the Headmaster’s office to show Vaughn’s improved Cure for Boils to Dumbledore.
The sheer surprise on Dumbledore’s wrinkled face at that moment had made him immensely pleased.
The Savior was nothing special, while his wicked classmate was a genuine, bona fide Slytherin Potions genius!
“Vaughn Weasley,” Snape said slowly.
“You will have plenty of time to admire them in the future.
For now, let me see what is so remarkable about your magic extraction method.”
“Oh?
Plenty of time?
Professor, does that mean I can come here every weekend?” Vaughn, as always, was quick to seize on the key detail.
Snape did not answer, which was a silent acquiescence.
He stepped aside, revealing a cauldron bubbling behind him.
Inside, a potion was brewing—specifically, the Cure for Boils.
Evidently, he wished to observe Vaughn’s entire brewing process today.
Vaughn didn’t mind.
He drew his wand and set to work immediately.
Thereafter, the only sounds in the gloomy dungeon were the preparation of ingredients, the scraping of the ladle, and the occasional exchange of words.
“Hmm…
an unusual choice.
How do you ensure magic permeation?”
“Familiarity with the ingredients, Professor.
And perhaps a bit of talent in Transfiguration; my magic can easily perceive their internal structures.”
“Of course, an ordinary wizard could also achieve this through relentless practice—practice makes perfect.”
“…Let me try.”
“Of course, Professor!”