In truth, before Tom Riddle, Hogwarts never forbade the study of the Dark Arts, nor did it oppose soul research.
The book Secrets of the Darkest Arts, which documented how to make Horcruxes, was once kept in the Restricted Section year-round. As long as one had a professor's permission, anyone could borrow it.
But that changed after Tom became the infamous Noseless Lord Voldemort. In his search for the secret of immortality, Dumbledore confiscated every book Tom had ever borrowed, especially those related to the Dark Arts and the soul.
Vaughn rubbed his brow, speechless. Damn that Tom!
He had looked around Dumbledore's office before and hadn't seen any such books—clearly, the old man had hidden them well.
Given Tom's example, Vaughn seriously doubted he could ever borrow such material from Dumbledore now.
Currently, his relationship with Dumbledore was… delicate. In order to get more deeply involved in the fates of Harry and Tom, Vaughn had revealed some key information to the headmaster.
Such as: the existence of Horcruxes and the abnormal state of Harry Potter.
Though this canon knowledge could be explained away with other excuses, the simple fact that Vaughn knew about Horcruxes was enough to make Dumbledore extremely wary.
Right now, the two of them were still in a mutual-testing, mutual-guarding phase.
They were willing to trust each other on some matters, but remained cautious on others. Vaughn didn't want to become Dumbledore's pawn in the war against Voldemort, and Dumbledore feared raising another Dark Lord.
"I'll have to find a way to slowly get the old man to let his guard down." Vaughn mused. Harry might be the perfect shield. As long as Dumbledore could be convinced that Vaughn wouldn't turn into the next Voldemort…
Wait a minute. Vaughn suddenly realized the root cause of everything: It was all Tom's fault!
Damn that Tom!
---
"Achoo!"
Just as he stepped out of Gryffindor Tower, Vaughn spotted Hermione and Harry, who had run into Professor Quirrell. Right after greeting the professor, they watched him let out a huge sneeze, with mucus flying.
Harry, trying not to gag, asked, "Professor, are you okay?"
Quirrell looked awful. He had bundled himself tightly in a fur-lined cloak. Steam was rising from his ears—a side effect of taking too many Pepperup Potions.
The steam made the garlic smell from his large turban even worse.
"N-n-no worries, M-m-mister P-p-potter…" Quirrell forced a stiff smile, stuttering, "M-m-madam P-p-pomfrey s-s-said I caught a… c-c-cold… I-I'm going to rest now, g-g-goodbye!"
As they watched him leave, he suddenly let out a pained groan for no reason, then shuffled away along the wall in tiny, panicked steps.
Hermione whispered sympathetically, "He must've really gotten sick yesterday… He fainted in the Great Hall, and it wasn't until the very end that the Headmaster even remembered him."
As she spoke, a younger student ran past and shouted toward Quirrell, "Professor Quirrell, quick, look! There's a troll!"
The surrounding students burst into laughter.
Ever since Quirrell had fainted in front of the troll—and Vaughn had gone on to slay the creature—not a single student had shown the poor professor any respect.
Watching all this, Harry sighed. "If I were him, I'd leave Hogwarts and never come back."
"You don't think he's the one who tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone… do you?"
"Impossible," Harry said firmly. "You'd be better off suspecting Goyle and Crabbe. Quirrell… what could he possibly do?"
That was a brutal insult. In the eyes of the Trio, Goyle and Crabbe were basically the lowest tier of humanoid beings—it was hard to imagine anyone worse.
Hermione couldn't help but shoot Harry a glare.
The two of them crept their way down into the dungeons, heading toward the Slytherin common room. Soon, above an old wooden door, they spotted that infamous line of text:
"Seaview Room."
"How do we get in? We don't know the password," Harry said nervously. This was Slytherin territory, after all—who knew what kind of terrifying scenes awaited them inside?
Hermione clutched her schoolbag tightly and replied calmly, "We wait for someone."
After quite a while, a tall girl wearing a serpent-emblazoned Slytherin badge finally came by.
Hermione took a deep breath and stepped forward. "We're friends of Vaughn Weasley. We wanted to visit him in his dorm. Could you let us in?"
The girl was tall and broad-shouldered—her arms were thicker than Harry's legs. She had sharp, fierce eyes and gave the two of them a long glance. Then, as if recognizing Harry, she suddenly grinned at him.
"Follow me," she said. She spoke the password, and the door creaked open.
What greeted Hermione and Harry took their breath away: through the enormous bay windows of the common room, sunlight pierced the depths of the lake, scattering and shimmering through the icy water. Curtains of waving kelp swayed gently in the currents. Schools of fish glided past like living dreams.
For a moment, the two of them just stood there, stunned.
No wonder Vaughn called it a 'seaview room.'
There were quite a few people in the common room—Malfoy among them. The moment he spotted Harry entering, he leapt up from the couch.
"Potter, you—!"
Before he could finish, the tall girl pointed at a nearby staircase. "Weasley's dorm is up that way. Two floors up, second door on the right."
Malfoy immediately dropped back onto the sofa like nothing had happened.
Harry pretended not to notice him. Only after they had followed the stairs up did he exhale loudly and pat his chest. "That scared the life out of me. Malfoy and all those Slytherins…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "What are you afraid of? Didn't you see how everyone backed off when that upperclassman mentioned Vaughn's name?"
Of course, Harry had noticed. And he was deeply envious. Who wouldn't want that kind of presence?
Thanks to their helpful guide, they easily found Vaughn's room. Just as Hermione raised her hand to knock, the door swung open—and a fluffy cat was hanging off the doorknob, meowing directly at her.
Hermione's face lit up with joy. She hurried to scoop it into her arms. "Aww, Hexby opened the door for us—so smart!"
Hexby affectionately rubbed against her, then gave Harry a lazy tail flick by way of greeting.
Harry didn't mind the cat's cold treatment. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Vaughn sitting at a desk by the window, wand tip pointed at a pebble.
As Vaughn murmured a quiet incantation, the pebble began to vanish—bit by bit.
It was as though some invisible eraser was scrubbing it out of the world, until finally it was completely gone. Only then did Vaughn look up at them. "What brings you two here?"
"Oh, we just came to check on you," said Hermione.
Then, staring eagerly at the now-empty spot where the pebble had been, she asked, "Did you make it invisible? What spell was that?"
Invisibility spells weren't unheard of in the magical world. Though they hadn't learned them in their first year yet, Professor Flitwick had mentioned examples before, like the Disillusionment Charm and the Concealment Hex.
Vaughn didn't answer her. Instead, he looked at Harry, who seemed deep in thought, and asked, "Harry, what do you think?"
Harry blinked, caught off guard. He hesitated. Normally, as a self-declared academic underachiever, he should've agreed with Hermione without question.
But somehow, he had this gut feeling…Whatever spell Vaughn had just used was terrifying.