"…I've already memorised the class schedule, Vaughn. Gryffindor and Slytherin share a lot of lessons, so House placement doesn't really matter."
"Our first class today is Transfiguration. Did you revise? If not, I can lend you my notes. Or… we could sit together?"
The Great Hall was already buzzing, the long tables lined with a hearty breakfast spread. Of all the famously questionable creations of British cuisine, breakfast was the only one Vaughn genuinely enjoyed.
Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, beans, toast—Hogwarts did breakfast well. Everything else… questionable.
Wearing his fresh Slytherin house badge, Vaughn sat calmly at the Gryffindor table while Hermione chattered brightly beside him. He ate at a leisurely pace, unbothered by the stares burning into him from every direction.
A Gryffindor walking past would slow, stare, blink twice to confirm they were indeed at the right table… then scurry away with a baffled expression.
Across the hall, Slytherins were also openly staring.
After all, news spread fast at Hogwarts.
It was now common knowledge that Vaughn had allegedly flattened a Slytherin prefect in two spells. Worse, the poor boy's dormmates had failed to reverse the curse and had to haul him to Madam Pomfrey, whose reaction apparently involved several minutes of horrified silence.
Overnight, Slytherin had quietly updated Vaughn's status from "blood traitor" to "do-not-provoke-under-any-circumstances."
There was only one mystery left:
Why was he sitting with the Gryffindors?
Was rebellion simply embedded in the Weasley bloodline?
First-year Slytherins who tried to approach Vaughn quickly lost their nerve and instead settled for glaring ferociously at the Gryffindors nearby.
The Gryffindors—confused but unwilling to be intimidated, especially with Percy, Fred, and George claiming Vaughn as their own—glared right back.
A normal breakfast was seconds away from becoming a House brawl.
Ravenclaws observed from a safe distance.
Hufflepuffs collectively decided this wasn't their problem.
And then—
The Twins Enter
Fred and George marched into the Great Hall dramatically.
"Look, George! The snake of the Weasley family dares to sit at the Gryffindor table!"
"Too right, Fred! This traitor's got quite the nerve!"
They flanked Vaughn and crossed their arms, wearing theatrically wounded expressions.
Vaughn dipped a piece of bread into mushroom soup and took a leisurely bite.
"You sure you want to start trouble with me?"
He smiled just slightly.
"I seem to recall two people who spent all summer buttering me up. I was feeling generous, and I was planning on putting ten Galleons into their Halloween gift box, to support their little entrepreneurial dreams…"
Both twins froze.
Slowly, they exchanged glances.
"…Fred?"
"…George?"
"…Are we forgiving him?"
"…We'd look pathetic."
"…Ten Galleons."
"…Percy did say yesterday that no Weasley has ever been in Slytherin, and someone should set a precedent…"
"…Who cares what Percy says?!"
In perfect synchrony, they slapped Vaughn on the back.
"We're absolutely not doing this for the Galleons—"
"—Perish the thought!"
"But when our darling baby brother shows such heartfelt support for us—"
"—how could we refuse?"
"So what if he's in Slytherin? They're Hogwarts students too!"
"Well… most of them."
"Present company excepted!"
Vaughn hid his smile.
"Will ten Galleons be enough?"
Both twins nodded frantically.
"More than enough!"
"Crucial!"
High spirits restored, they grabbed some bread and left, deep in conversation about "product development."
Just before disappearing out the doors, Vaughn heard one mutter:
"No Weasley's ever been in Slytherin…"
And the other reply softly,
"He's still our little brother, George."
"Yeah."
Vaughn exhaled discreetly.
"That settles the twins."
Truthfully, he was relieved.
Out of all his brothers, they were the most mischievous—but also the most fiercely protective.
He had also written to Molly and Arthur last night, explaining the Sorting. He left out Occlumency, of course—just said he'd told the Sorting Hat he wanted to study Potions under Professor Snape.
Academic ambition plus Snape = parental acceptance.
If only I'd been this good with people in my last life, Vaughn thought ruefully. Maybe I wouldn't have stayed stuck in a dead-end job.
Hermione's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"I… I actually don't think being in Slytherin is bad at all."
Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes were earnest.
"I read Hogwarts: A History, A History of Magic, and Modern Magical History. Not one historian says Slytherin only produces dark wizards. And in fact—one of the most infamous Death Eaters was from Gryffindor!"
Whether she meant to explain or comfort him, Vaughn smiled.
He ruffled her hair gently.
"Thanks, Hermione."
He didn't need comfort—
But having a thoughtful little witch care about him?
That was rather nice.
They left for their first lesson in excellent spirits.
Transfiguration
Only a few students were there when they arrived—including Draco, who immediately scooted into a corner.
Neville, on the other hand, lit up like a lantern.
"Thank you, Vaughn! You're the only one Malfoy's scared of. I heard you really showed him! You're incredible!"
Before Vaughn could respond—
A sharp, piercing stare cut through the room.
Sitting atop the desk was a stern-looking tabby cat.
The kind of cat whose eyes judged you for breathing improperly.
Vaughn's smile faded.
Merlin's beard… Neville, why can't you ever stop talking?
(End of Chapter )