The next day was Saturday.
It happened to be Gryffindor’s turn to host Vaughn, and early that morning, he saw Harry and Ron heading toward the Forbidden Forest while Hermione followed behind them with a book in her arms.
“I’m keeping an eye on you two.” That was her answer.
Ron was convinced Hermione was trying to get back at him.
In his mind, she planned to monitor their every move and run to the professors the moment they made a mistake.
Harry didn’t think so.
“Hermione cares more about House Points than anything else.
She’d never wait for us to get into trouble if it meant Gryffindor would lose points.” “Then what is she trying to do?
Merlin’s beard, every time I look back, there’s someone lurking behind us like a ghost.
Do you know how creepy that is?” Harry had no desire to find out.
Together, they visited Hagrid’s hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid welcomed them enthusiastically.
Hermione entered as well, but she spent almost the entire visit talking only to Hagrid and completely ignored Harry and Ron.
While there, Harry discovered a newspaper reporting the break-in at Gringotts.
Judging by the date, it had happened on the very same day he and Hagrid had visited the bank.
Remembering that Hagrid had gone there to retrieve something, Harry quickly connected the two events.
On the way back, he waved the newspaper and said to Ron and Hermione, “Whatever those thieves were looking for, it might have been the thing Hagrid took out of Gringotts.
He was acting incredibly mysterious about it and kept saying it was important.” “Look at this article.
It says, ‘The vault searched by the intruder had, in fact, been emptied earlier that same day.’ It has to be right!
Vault Seven-One-Three!
There was only a grubby little package inside, and Hagrid took it away.
Doesn’t that count as being emptied?” “Awesome!” Ron let out a whistle.
Then Harry seemed to remember something and looked at his friends hopefully.
“Uh…
Hagrid told me not to tell anyone about this.
You’ll keep it secret, right?” “Absolutely secret!” Ron declared, pounding his chest so hard that he immediately started coughing.
Hermione snorted.
“I always keep my mouth shut.” Of course, Harry had said exactly the same thing to Hagrid.
So the very next day, Vaughn already knew about it…
“The Philosopher’s Stone…” At the library, Vaughn found a book introducing the legendary alchemical artifact.
Staring at the illustration on its pages, he fell into deep thought.
Unlike many fanfiction readers from his previous life who considered it unimportant, the more he studied magic, the more he understood just how astonishing the Philosopher’s Stone truly was.
It could reverse matter itself, accomplishing feats beyond even the highest levels of Transfiguration.
It could alter the very essence of a substance, turning any metal into pure gold.
The Elixir of Life created from it was also the only confirmed means of conquering death, backed by real-world evidence.
Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle Flamel, had lived for over six hundred years because of it.
A full six centuries.
Was there anything in the wizarding world more miraculous?
Of course, that form of immortality seemed to have side effects.
Vaughn recalled watching Fantastic Beasts in his previous life, where Flamel had appeared.
A comical old man suffering from severe osteoporosis.
“I’ve heard the Flamels live in seclusion somewhere in Devon.
My family is in Devon too.
Unfortunately, I don’t know the exact location, and given how cautious they are, their residence has probably been protected by something like the Fidelius Charm.
Nobody could find them even if they tried.” “Otherwise, I’d really like to visit him and have a proper conversation.” Vaughn had yet to study alchemy himself.
This even more mysterious discipline was covered in books at Hogwarts, but every one he read left him completely bewildered.
Pages upon pages discussed “spiritual journeys” and creating matter from nothingness.
The whole thing read like the drunken ramblings of someone who had downed several bottles of alcohol before picking up a quill.
Closing the book, Vaughn prepared to leave when a system panel suddenly appeared before his eyes.
[New Mission Activated] [Side Mission ①: Obtain the Philosopher’s Stone] [Reward: Alchemy Talent] “…” Vaughn was speechless.
The missions this system handed out were becoming more outrageous by the day.
Right now, the Philosopher’s Stone was the focus of both the Dark Lord and the White Lord.
He would have to be completely insane to involve himself with it.
Ignoring the system entirely, Vaughn returned the book.
Seeing that it was getting late, he headed toward Professor Snape’s office.
Honestly, Vaughn thought Snape’s taste was terrible.
Whether it was the Potions classroom or his office, everything was located in the darkest, gloomiest corners of Hogwarts Castle.
The moment he stepped into the corridor, the atmosphere became cold and eerie.
With taste like that, how could he possibly have competed with James Potter?
No girl would ever choose him!
But when Vaughn pushed open the office door and saw shelves packed with ingredients and cabinets overflowing with potions…
Amazing.
And literally fragrant.
Many people assumed potion ingredients were strange and must smell awful.
In reality, after processing, most of them gave off unique and pleasant aromas.
Not to mention the rows of potions sitting in glass cabinets, reflecting the glow of the fireplace and sparkling like crystal.
Snape still wore his usual poker face, standing ghostlike in a corner while watching Vaughn indifferently.
Only when he noticed Vaughn staring at the potions with obvious fascination did the slightest smile appear on his lips.
Those two days of painstakingly selecting items from his personal collection and filling the newly purchased display cabinet hadn’t been wasted after all.
It had not been easy work.
The contents needed to be valuable, educational, and impressive without looking like blatant bragging.
“Professor, this place is a treasure vault!” Vaughn’s admiration was completely sincere.
Snape suddenly found himself in an excellent mood.
It reminded him of Friday night, when he had brought Vaughn’s improved Cure for Boils to Dumbledore’s office.
The look of surprise on the old headmaster’s face had been immensely satisfying.
The so-called Chosen One was nothing special.
His troublesome student, however, was a genuine Slytherin potions prodigy.
“Vaughn Weasley,” Snape drawled, “you will have plenty of opportunities to admire the room in the future.
For now, let me see exactly what is so remarkable about this magical extraction method of yours.” “Oh?
Plenty of opportunities?
Professor, does that mean I’ll be allowed to come here every weekend from now on?” Vaughn clearly knew how to focus on the important details.
Snape did not answer.
Which was answer enough.
Stepping aside, he revealed a cauldron behind him.
Inside, a potion was already brewing.
It was the Cure for Boils.
Clearly, he intended to observe Vaughn’s entire brewing process today.
Vaughn didn’t mind in the slightest.
Drawing his wand, he immediately got to work.
After that, the gloomy underground office was filled only with the sounds of ingredient preparation, stirring, and the occasional exchange of words.
“Hm…
an unusual choice.
How are you ensuring magical penetration?” “Familiarity with the ingredients, Professor.
Perhaps a talent for Transfiguration as well.
My magic allows me to observe their internal structure quite easily.” “Of course, ordinary wizards could achieve something similar through extensive practice.
Skill comes with repetition.” “…Let me try.” “Certainly, Professor!”