A letter from Hogwarts was a momentous event for any family.
It could alter the fate of a Muggle family, introducing them to the magical world, or it could dispel a wizarding family’s greatest fear—that their child might be a Squib.
And so, the Weasleys celebrated all day long, with Molly preparing a lavish spread of ingredients.
At noon, the family set up a canopy in the garden near the edge of the pond, preparing to enjoy the breeze, scenic view, and shimmering water over a picnic party.
Arthur had even wanted to invite all the neighbors nearby, but Molly quickly shut that down with a raised feather duster—she had always thought the Lovegoods were too eccentric, and they didn’t interact enough with the Fawcetts for it to feel appropriate.
So, in the end, only the Diggorys were invited.
Amos Diggory, like Arthur Weasley, was an employee at the Ministry of Magic, working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Thus, the two were loosely colleagues.
However, Arthur’s invitation wasn’t out of professional courtesy.
“That fellow is dreadful!”
“Every time I see him, he brags endlessly about his son Cedric, looking down his nose at everyone else’s children!”
Arthur spoke with a look of deep indignation.
So when Amos Diggory Apparated outside The Burrow with his son, Arthur was more than happy to put his arm around Vaughn and greet them!
“Amos, welcome to The Burrow!
This is my son Vaughn—I bet you’ve heard his name before.”
Amos had a short brown beard and a ruddy face, looking as though he had been drinking.
He shook Arthur’s hand while eyeing Vaughn up and down.
Vaughn wore a polite smile tailored to meet an adult’s expectations.
“Yes, yes, Arthur, your family’s potion genius.
Of course I’ve heard of him!
Is he the one who got his Hogwarts letter today?
What about Ron?”
Arthur’s smile stiffened slightly.
He hadn’t expected Amos to hit his weak spot right off the bat.
His eyes darted around nervously as he said, “Oh, Ron got his too…”
Amos raised an eyebrow immediately.
“Why didn’t you bring him out?
If you ask me, you should let Ron spend more time with Cedric.
Our Cedric is obedient and does so well in school—Professor McGonagall can’t praise his Transfiguration enough, and he’s the Quidditch Seeker!
Maybe he could help Ron make a few changes…”
When it came to boasting about his son, Amos was clearly a seasoned expert, skilled at sidestepping his rival’s strengths to strike directly at their vulnerabilities.
The childish rivalry between the adults almost made Vaughn laugh out loud.
The boy who had accompanied Amos, Cedric Diggory, looked rather embarrassed.
Handsome and refined, he still carried a touch of youthful bashfulness.
Taking advantage of Arthur being dazed and dragged away by Amos, Cedric stepped up to Vaughn and said apologetically, “I’m sorry.
My dad doesn’t mean any harm—he just tends to exaggerate.”
As if proving his point, Mr.
Diggory’s loud voice echoed from a distance: “…Cedric is always so humble and polite, a true gentleman through and through…”
“…”
Cedric’s expression stiffened, and he had no choice but to awkwardly change the subject.
He extended a hand to Vaughn.
“I’m Cedric Diggory.
It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.
Vaughn Weasley.
I’ve read several of your papers on potions, and I must say, the development concepts you mentioned are truly astonishing.”
Vaughn shook his hand with a smile.
“Thank you.
It’s just a bit of cleverness.
There are still people in the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers criticizing my work as unorthodox.”
Wherever there are people, there is conflict.
Over the past few years, Vaughn had earned a fortune in Gold Galleons through his “Vaughn’s Beauty” product line, naturally drawing envy from other potioneers.
Not to mention his astounding talent in potion-making—creating mature potion products at just eight years old before even entering Hogwarts was unprecedented.
If those potioneers hadn’t cared somewhat about their reputations—feeling too embarrassed to steal a child’s research—and if Vaughn hadn’t been a pure-blood, the recipe for the “Vaughn’s Beauty” series would likely have been reverse-engineered and stolen long ago.
Of course, after several papers on potion development were published, Vaughn had established his standing, making “Vaughn’s Beauty” a famous name.
Now, those detractors could do nothing more than wage verbal spats in the newspapers.
Vaughn’s composure made Cedric feel a hint of envy.
Cedric was ambitious and held genuine respect for accomplished people.
So, even though Vaughn had not yet started at Hogwarts, Cedric humbly asked him a few questions regarding potion transfiguration.
“…I haven’t tried brewing Polyjuice Potion yet.
You know, you can’t find recipes for advanced potions like that on the market.
It’s said that Scarpin’s Revelaspell can analyze the exact ingredients and proportions of a potion, but that spell’s circulation is strictly restricted by the Ministry of Magic.”
“That’s why I’m really looking forward to studying at Hogwarts.
Its library and professors can teach so much that self-study can’t cover…
But back to our previous topic: although I’ve never brewed Polyjuice Potion, its main ingredients are generally known.
I suggest you try some low-risk experiments using powdered Bicorn horn, one of its primary components…”
By lunchtime, Cedric had turned into a total fan of Vaughn.
He even ignored Mr.
Diggory and made a point of sitting next to Vaughn to ask more questions easily.
Hearing this, Cedric pondered for a moment and asked, “Do you mean the primary transforming agent in Polyjuice Potion comes from the Bicorn?”
“No, the transfiguration relies mainly on the properties of Fluxweed.
The Bicorn merely provides more possibilities—much like its appearance, which is part panther, part ox, and part human.
It’s the key that allows Polyjuice Potion to turn you into someone else, even across gender lines.
This touches upon altering the fundamental essence of the human body, and I believe its full potential is far from being tapped!”
Vaughn talked fluently and effortlessly.
No one in his family had a special talent for potions, so he usually had no one to discuss the subject with.
Although Cedric’s questions focused mostly on potion transfiguration, Vaughn was delighted to have someone to converse with.
While their conversation blazed enthusiastically on one side, Ron was caught in utter misery on the other.
Even though he had tried his best to lay low until mealtime before coming down, Mr.
Diggory had still caught him.
Ron was forced to sit alongside his father, enduring Mr.
Diggory’s colorful boasts about Cedric and indirect put-downs directed at him.
To escape, Ron had to use Vaughn as an excuse.
“Cedric is asking Vaughn about potions.
I want to go listen,” Ron said.
Mr.
Diggory immediately shut his mouth and let him go.
This made Ron feel even worse; it felt like his brother’s shadow was everywhere!
Especially when it came time to eat, and Molly brought out a painstakingly prepared hotpot—a Chinese dish that Vaughn, thoroughly disgusted by years of British “cuisine,” had “recreated” from a Muggle magazine using his father’s work connections.
As the hotpot was served, Ron watched his father, who had been slumping in defeat all morning, perk right back up and begin bragging to Mr.
Diggory about Vaughn’s culinary invention.
Ron felt completely depleted of strength!