By the end of the first week, Vaughn had slipped neatly into Hogwarts life.
Lessons, homework, curious glances from classmates, the occasional professor praising him—everything settled into a comfortable rhythm.
On the first day of Charms, he'd impressed Professor Flitwick with his crisp, elegant casting of the Levitation Charm. The tiny professor—rumoured to have goblin ancestry—had even examined Vaughn's notebook with visible delight.
But unlike Professor McGonagall, Flitwick didn't extend a club invitation.
"Your magic is still maturing, Mr. Vaughn Weasley," he squeaked cheerfully. "For now, master the fundamentals. By third year—if you aren't too busy with your Transfiguration Club—I'll save a place for you!"
He still awarded Slytherin twenty points, which Vaughn happily accepted.
He needed every point he could get.
Because the moment he finished Main Quest ①, the system had unlocked:
[Main Quest ②] – Win the House Cup for Slytherin
Reward: +1 Talent Point, +50 Magical Capacity
It looked manageable on paper.
But anyone who had read the "original timeline" would know…
It was nightmarishly difficult.
The world's most powerful living Light wizard was currently grooming his Chosen One, and Dumbledore had never been shy about awarding house points for… creative reasons.
And although the Headmaster only pulled that stunt once in Harry's first year—
It happened to be the same year Vaughn needed Slytherin to win.
He didn't yet have a plan.
But giving up wasn't an option.
For now: grind. Grind points relentlessly.
The Rest of the WeekHistory of Magic
Vaughn fell asleep halfway through Professor Binns' monotone rambling.
Mysteriously, he still earned five points, even though Binns called him "Mr. Vickers."
Astronomy
To compensate for his dismal Divination talent (2), Vaughn shamelessly leaned on his previous life's knowledge of actual astronomy.
Professor Sinistra was astonished.
She only seemed confused when Vaughn pressed her on whether Pluto counted as the ninth planet.
(Her answer: "What's a Pluto?")
Herbology
No hands-on work yet.
Instead, Professor Sprout guided them through the first greenhouse—enchanted with Undetectable Extension Charms, simulating forests, wetlands, plateaus, even deserts.
It felt like walking through a dream.
Vaughn and Hermione answered so many questions that they each earned twenty points. Neville—timid, but brilliant with plants—earned ten.
Then Fred and George lost Gryffindor twenty points by hexing a suit of armour.
Bless them.
Defence Against the Dark Arts
Professor Quirrell, swaddled in his enormous turban and garlic fumes, was hopeless.
He read straight from the textbook.
No practical work.
No demonstrations.
When Seamus Finnigan asked how he defeated a zombie, Quirrell descended into incoherent babbling.
Vaughn stepped in tactfully to rescue him.
Quirrell gratefully awarded Slytherin ten points.
Then—several minutes later—he absent-mindedly gave Slytherin another ten, almost as if someone behind his skull had nudged him.
Vaughn knew exactly who.
The Dark Lord may have been a shade clinging to a mortal host, but he still adored Hogwarts.
He adored Slytherin even more.
Once upon a time, Voldemort's greatest dream had been to teach here.
Dumbledore refused him.
So Voldemort cursed the position permanently.
If I can't have the Defence post, no one can.
Now that was true, obsessive love.
Friday — Potions
Early that morning, Harry and Ron groaned their way through breakfast.
"I don't think Snape likes me," Harry muttered. "At the feast, the way he looked at me… it was terrifying."
"Don't be stupid," Ron snorted.
"He looks at everyone like they owe him five hundred Galleons. And besides, he loves Slytherins. Bet Vaughn's thrilled."
Ron shot a scowl at the Ravenclaw table.
Yes—Ravenclaw.
Because Vaughn Weasley had decided that today, he was eating with Ravenclaw.
During breakfast, the entire school had discovered the newest Hogwarts phenomenon:
"Where Will Vaughn Sit Today?"
On Monday he sat with Gryffindor.
Tuesday—Hufflepuff.
Wednesday—back to Gryffindor.
Thursday—Slytherin.
Friday—Ravenclaw.
Each time, he fit in disturbingly well.
Hufflepuffs adored him.
Gryffindors tolerated him (barely).
Slytherins feared him.
And now even Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect, was giggling over something he'd said.
Ron fumed.
"He always liked playing with girls—even when we were kids. Some things never change."
Hermione abruptly slammed her book shut.
"Then why don't you, as his brother, go talk to him instead of whining about it?"
Ron blinked. "What? What's that got to do with—"
But Hermione—on a roll—didn't wait.
"You two complain all week and do nothing about it! If you're worried Snape will be unfair, why don't you study? It's been a whole week! What have either of you actually done?"
With that, she stormed off.
Ron stared after her, outraged.
"She's mental! Vaughn flirting with girls has nothing to do with me—why yell at me? Just watch—she'll be all smiles again the moment she sees him. Honestly—stupid girl."
And as Ron predicted—
He was right.
During Potions, Hermione sat with Vaughn.
Within minutes, she was smiling like sunlight.
Ron buried his face in his arms.
Harry sighed.
Vaughn simply chatted with Hermione, flipping casually through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi as they waited for class to begin.
And then—
The dungeon chilled.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Half his face was swallowed by the darkness of the stone pillars.
His voice sliced through the room like a knife dipped in frost.
"Ah… Harry Potter."
Professor Snape looked at Harry the way a starving man might look at a fly he very much wished to crush.
His black eyes gleamed, cold and calculating.
Harry froze.
And that was how the first Potions lesson truly began.
(End of Chapter )
PS : Professor Sprout – Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology instructor.
Professor Quirrell – Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, host to Voldemort.