On the fifth floor, after dealing with his overwrought mother and younger siblings, Vaughn returned to his private room and stared at the system panel before him, deep in thought.
Since awakening the system, this was the first time he had seen a “quest.”
And the quest didn’t seem to care whether he succeeded or failed—there was no penalty, only a reward upon success.
But it was precisely that reward that held his gaze.
“Talent Points…”
Ever since the “Newbie Gift Pack” had maxed out his “Potion-Making” talent, letting him experience just how easy and miraculous learning and brewing potions could be with 10 points in that talent, Vaughn had been looking forward to new ways to improve his talents.
And not only that—Magic Power Scale!
As the name suggested, Magic Power Scale referred to the total amount and intensity of magic power in a wizard’s body.
The larger one’s magic power scale, the more powerful the spells they could cast, and the more spells they could release.
However, it couldn’t be simply understood as a mana bar or spell power, because casting spells also consumed emotion, and the strength of a spell was closely related to one’s proficiency with it.
Two months remained until the quest deadline.
Vaughn stopped paying attention and dismissed the system panel.
He looked again at the open Hogwarts letter in his hand.
On the first page, written in elegant script:
[Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry]
[Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)]
[Dear Mr.
Weasley,]
[We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.]
[Term begins on 1 September.
We await your owl by no later than 31 July.]
[Yours sincerely,]
[Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress]
After writing his reply at the desk, he sent it to Hogwarts via the Weasleys’ new owl—poor old Errol was far too old.
A few years ago, while delivering a shipment of Vaughn’s brewed potions, he had nearly tumbled into a pond.
So after Vaughn started earning money, he had Errol retire to enjoy his old age.
Now the owl lived in the garden.
That had also been the first time Arthur and Molly accepted Vaughn’s money.
Errol’s age had left them helpless, unable even to think of a reason to refuse.
The few subsequent times, the money had also gone toward renovating the whole house, while everyday expenses relied entirely on Arthur’s salary—they didn’t want their children to develop rifts or resentment over money.
Thinking of money, Vaughn flipped to the second page of the letter.
Looking at the densely listed book list and equipment, he couldn’t help shaking his head.
“Looks like Ron’s going to have to use the leftovers Bill and Charlie passed down again.
Hope that bloke doesn’t start crying!”
In fact, Ron was far more “resilient” than Vaughn had imagined.
By the time Vaughn had sent the letter and walked out of his room, Ron was already on the fourth floor, where he lived, clutching the crumpled Hogwarts acceptance letter, strutting back and forth with his chest puffed out.
Percy patted him on the shoulder and encouraged loudly, “Ron, I knew you’d be accepted to Hogwarts!”
Ron held his head even higher.
Upstairs, Vaughn rolled his eyes.
Yesterday he’d passed by the kitchen and overheard Percy secretly discussing with their mother whether they should forge an acceptance letter for Ron if he didn’t get one, just to cheer him up.
“To celebrate you about to enter Hogwarts, how about I give you Scabbers?”
This sudden “happiness” left Ron at a loss.
Bewildered, he watched Percy pull a rat out of his pocket, shove it into his arms, then hurry away.
Leaning on the railing, watching this amusing scene, Vaughn heard two pairs of footsteps creeping up behind him.
No need to guess—the only sneaky people in the house were Fred and George.
Sure enough, the twins sidled up to him, copied his posture, leaned over the railing to look down, and spoke their “whisper” in a loud voice: “I bet Percy’s been dying to get rid of Scabbers for ages.”
“Right you are, George.
Scabbers is old and ugly—could kick the bucket any day now.”
“Poor Ron, he must think Percy’s parting with a treasure!”
“Yeah, George.
Why does such a daft bloke have to be our little brother?”
“I can’t figure it out either, Fred.
Maybe Ron got all his brains from another brother of ours?”
The twins cackled, trading quips back and forth, while downstairs Ron was so furious steam almost came out of his ears.
He pulled out the rat from his chest, wanting to throw it away but couldn’t bear to.
In the end, he just stormed back into his room in a huff.
After enjoying the show, Vaughn smiled at the twins, who were obviously buttering him up.
“Out with it.
What do you two want?”
The twins exchanged a look, a bit embarrassed.
“You tell him, George.”
“No, you do it.
You’re the older brother.” “Oh—now you remember who’s the older brother!”
After a few rounds of banter, seeing that Vaughn was still smiling, they realized they couldn’t fool him.
They flanked him, one rubbing his shoulders, the other patting his legs, and said:
“Um—dear Vaughn, you’re going to Hogwarts soon, so you’ll need to go to Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies, right?”
“Mum said you can buy your own stuff.
We already knew you had money…”
“But we didn’t know you were this loaded.
If… if it’s convenient, could you invest in some materials for us again?”
“Just a little bit.
That’s exactly what our great joke shop venture is missing!”
Seeing the usually mischievous, lawless twins groveling for Gold Galleons, Vaughn found it hilarious.
But he also knew that Molly had always forbidden them from doing research, actually for their own good—she was afraid they’d go down the wrong path.
So over the years, even though the twins had secretly borrowed money from him, he had never loosened the reins.
The twins always thought he only made a few Sickles—until today.
The school book list, equipment, including a pet—to get everything at least cost over a hundred Gold Galleons.
In the twins’ eyes, that was a fortune!
Enjoying the twins’ massage, Vaughn hummed and said, “Last time you borrowed ten Sickles from me, you said the same thing.”
“That was last time.
Our first joke item is almost ready to be made, right, Fred?”
“That’s right, George!”
Seeing that they were genuinely serious and that he’d teased them enough, Vaughn rubbed his chin.
“Hmm… tomorrow the garden needs cleaning…”
Before he finished, the twins quickly jumped in: “Cleaning the garden?
How could we trouble you with such hard work?”
“That’s right—we’ll take care of it!”
“…I was going to say leave it to Ron, Fred!”
“This is our sincerity, George!”
“Makes sense!”
As the two on either side blinked at him expectantly, Vaughn waved his hands.
“Alright, alright.
I’ll see how you perform tomorrow!”
Watching the twins cheer and race downstairs, Vaughn shook his head.
Standing there for a moment, he thought it over and then went to Ron’s door and knocked.
Soon the door yanked open.
Still sulking, Ron’s face was puffed up, his tone both fierce and timid: “Wha… what is it?”
“Ron, come with me to Diagon Alley tomorrow.”
Ron’s lips moved a few times as if he wanted to argue, but he was so used to feeling inferior around Vaughn that he couldn’t muster the courage.
Finally he said petulantly, “Why should I go?
I already have hand-me-downs!”
“Oh—” Vaughn shrugged, sounding a little regretful.
“I was thinking I’d give you your Christmas present early this year, like a new wand.
Looks like you don’t…”
Before he finished, Ron shouted, “I’ll go!”
“Yeah?”
Ron’s freckled face turned red.
He stammered, “I… I’ll go… I need to buy some rat food for Scabbers anyway…”
Vaughn’s gaze went past his shoulder into the messy room, where that rat was gnawing on a biscuit on the desk.
Completely focused!
Vaughn deliberately showed interest.
“Speaking of Scabbers, I’ve been asking Percy for him for a while.
He’s old and ugly anyway—how about you give him to me to be my potion-testing rat?
What do you say, Ron?
Want to consider it?”
In the room, Scabbers’ nibbling motion froze.
Ron’s eyes went wide.
His lips trembled, and for a moment he couldn’t speak.
If it had been one minute earlier, hearing such an outrageous request from Vaughn, he would have shouted and screamed and mustered the courage to drive this mean-spirited brother away.
But now…
A new wand… well…
Fortunately, Vaughn didn’t let him agonize for long.
Seeing Scabbers start to slink toward the edge of the desk, and not wanting to actually scare the rat away, Vaughn patted Ron on the shoulder and laughed.
“Just kidding.
A rat that small would be poisoned by a single sip of potion (Scabbers shuddered all over).
Don’t sleep in tomorrow.
That’s it!”
Ron let out a long breath.
He watched Vaughn go upstairs, then hurried into his room and scooped up Scabbers.
“Oh, Scabbers, don’t be scared, don’t be scared—he was just trying to frighten us…”
Outside the door, on the stair landing, Vaughn stared at Ron’s door and gave a cold sneer.
Hmph.
He’d let that rat’s life slide for now.