Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 101 Vaughn: Albus, you're a devil!

"Professor Quirrell and Snape?"

"Yes!" Vaughn said seriously, "Of all the professors, only these two are the most unusual. Quirrell is because of his quirks. To be honest, it's so hot, and he still wears a big headscarf every day. It's really suspicious."

"Dumbledore doubted Professor Snape because he was so hostile to Harry, he practically wished Harry dead, but as I said before, Dumbledore believed him."

So, in reality, there has been no progress at all.

Hermione scratched her head in frustration: "What did Dumbledore say?"

Vaughn didn't hesitate to throw dirty water: "Our dear headmaster didn't say anything. He's so engrossed in desserts and knitting that chasing the dark wizard isn't as important to him as coming up with new knitting patterns."

"My God, how could he do this!"

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "He's the headmaster, how can he be so irresponsible?"

"Honey, you should have realized he was unreliable the first day of school when he made us sing the school song!"

Hermione wanted to salvage some of the headmaster's dignity, but after carefully considering what she had witnessed over the past few months, she simply couldn't bring herself to say that Dumbledore was a responsible headmaster.

Hermione had strong opinions, at least regarding the handling of the Philosopher's Stone.

Frustrated, she kicked a pebble away. "Why did he have to hide the Philosopher's Stone in the school? Why did he protect Snape? Why did he have to recruit someone like Professor Quirrell... Sorry, I shouldn't have gotten angry."

Vaughn offered a hypocritical consolation: "It's not your fault, it's all Dumbledore's fault!"

……

"Why is it all my fault?"

In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore, his pale beard trembling, questioned Vaughn, who was rummaging through his satchel across from him on the desk, checking his day's haul.

In the corner, standing in the shadows, Snape let out a loud snort.

That was blatant mockery.

Dumbledore frowned, watching Vaughn take out the fairy jar and slowly admire it under the lamp. He couldn't help but accuse, "You're the one who deceived them! How heartless can you be to so easily shift all the blame onto someone like that..."

"A centenarian, right?"

Vaughn interrupted him, "I'm sick of that excuse. Please come up with something else next time! Besides, if you hadn't insisted on testing Harry, I wouldn't have needed to lie to my girlfriend... You don't need to widen your eyes so much. If you, as the headmaster, can't stand such intimate terms of address, please change the school rules to prohibit dating, thank you."

"Perfect—sharp!"

In the shadows, Snape let out a drawn-out exclamation.

"Thank you for the compliment, Professor." Vaughn nodded gracefully and continued, "If it weren't for you testing Harry, Quirrell would have been killed by us long ago, and Voldemort would have turned into smoke and rolled back to Albania long ago. Albus, all of this stems from your willfulness, at least Professor Snape and I have always opposed it."

"Absolutely correct!"

Snape beamed with delight. Vaughn's words had struck a chord with him. He had always thought that testing Harry was a pointless exercise—don't get me wrong, he wasn't doing it for Harry's sake, he just felt that with Harry Potter's brain, any so-called test would be like talking to a brick wall.

"Cough cough!" Dumbledore coughed loudly and glared at Snape.

The Potions Professor snorted, his face turning serious again, and he refrained from further provocation.

Dumbledore scratched his cheek. He couldn't really refute Vaughn's words, so he could only awkwardly change the subject: "Have you finished collecting the materials?"

Vaughn clicked his tongue but didn't argue anymore. "The collection is complete. They are mostly magical creatures of magical classification level XX to XXX. Their temperament and magical abilities have been carefully selected to maintain their fierce nature while ensuring that their destructive power is not too lethal. They are all excellent materials."

As he spoke, he took out the "materials" from his satchel, including the fairy glass jar, and placed them one by one on the table in front of Dumbledore.

Apart from the fairies who were disguised as decorations and remained perfectly still, the other magical creatures all seemed very energetic.

Several vixens were locked in a cage, ramming against it desperately, occasionally baring their teeth at Vaughn and Dumbledore.

A swarm of glowing insects, resembling large water bubbles, floated up and down in the air. Inside each bubble was a Grindylo trapped inside, squeaking and straining to stretch out its long, sharp claws, trying to puncture the glowing insects and escape.

Several ball-escape birds darted about, landing on Dumbledore's table and pecking at the pile of cockroaches inside the candy bowl.

The various magical creatures, some free-roaming and some bound, pleased Dumbledore greatly.

"Fantastic, Vaughn, these are all fantastic materials. They will definitely greatly enrich the surprise adventure we've prepared for Harry. I'm planning to call this level 'Mini Forbidden Forest,' simple, straightforward, and closely related to the theme. What do you think?"

Vaughn said dryly, "It's nothing special."

"What? Very good? Oh, thank you for your approval, my dear." Dumbledore wiped his eyes tremblingly and looked at Snape with a smile.

Snape: "...Boring!"

"Thank you too, Severus, but I'm not asking for your opinion. I wanted to ask if you have all the potion ingredients ready?"

Snape's reply was dry and malicious: "Complete, and in excess. Potter will have an unforgettable experience, and might even be poisoned!"

"Okay, Severus, that's great."

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction, clapped his hands, and said, "Alright, gentlemen, everything is ready. Now we just need to wait for the final construction of the mechanisms to be completed before our Harry's Trial can begin..."

"What a disgusting name."

"Don't be like that, Severus. You're being so petty and mean now. You should learn from me and be more open-minded."

"Shut up!"

"This is such a headache, Vaughn. You absolutely mustn't end up like him!"

"Yes, Vaughn Weasley, you'd better watch out, lest you become a stupid and neurotic old man like Dumbledore, it would be too tragic!"

Vaughn couldn't be bothered with the childish banter of these two guys whose combined age was almost 150 (Dumbledore was born in July 1881 and is currently 110 years old, while Snape was born in January 1960 and is 32 years old).

He asked, "When exactly will the plan begin?"

"Early May, Vaughn."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "This way, there's still a month left before the final exams in June, allowing Harry to focus on his studies."

Vaughn: "...Albus, you're a devil...but I like it!"

When I came out of the principal's office, it was already completely dark.

Vaughn stretched, and the door behind him opened and closed again. He turned around and saw Snape coming out carrying a suitcase.

The briefcase belonged to Snape and contained some potion ingredients that Vaughn had found today.

Vaughn greeted him, "Professor, how is the quality of the wrinkled figs? I specially selected them from a pile of fruits to ensure the medicinal effect is strong enough."

Upon hearing "the drug is strong enough," Snepla finally managed a slight smile on his long face.

"You have a good eye; Potter is in luck."

Vaughn was speechless.

He felt that if it could be achieved, Snape would be more than happy if the ingredients for this potion were ten or a hundred times more potent.

Vaughn, not wanting to hear Snape's malicious fantasies about Harry, changed the subject: "Professor, have you had dinner? I'm on my way to the dining room, would you like to come along?"

"No need, I'm not hungry. I need to go back and brew the potion. It will take at least 12 hours, so I'll have to take good care of him."

"Do you need my help?"

"No!" Snape refused, his cold expression crumbling slightly, tinged with a hint of excitement: "This is a gift I prepared for Potter, how can I entrust it to you?"

Vaughn: "..."

He was mocking Dumbledore just a moment ago, but now he's more enthusiastic than anyone else.

Fine!

Whatever makes you happy!

After saying goodbye to the energetic and energized Professor Snape, Vaughn strolled leisurely towards the dining room.

As he passed through the courtyard, he saw the Quidditch pitch still lit up in the distance.

Above the stadium, shrouded in darkness, one could vaguely see people flying back and forth at high speed.

Vaughn stopped a passing lion cub and asked him who he was still at the stadium.

The little lion replied admiringly, "It's Harry. He's worked so hard, training all this time."

Another little lion sighed, "It's a pity we lost the first match last year. We're in second place now. Unless we win the final match against Slytherin by a large margin, we won't be able to shake Slytherin's first-place ranking."

In the Quidditch Cup at Hogwarts, there is no tiebreaker for a draw – after all, the term is short and everything has to give way to exams at the end of the term – so its rules calculate the total score in addition to the wins in the round-robin tournament.

Slytherin are currently undefeated, catching the Golden Snitch in every match, and are far ahead in total points.

The regretful little lion looked at Vaughn with complicated emotions. It was this guy who had turned Gryffindor's most promising year into nothing again.

Unfortunately, having witnessed Vaughn's level of spellcasting and heard the rumors about Slytherin House, he dared not utter any harsh words and left together after his companion finished answering.

Vaughn glanced back at the Quidditch pitch and clicked his tongue.

"Harry's being so cocky, is he trying to beat me this time? Sigh, I was planning to slack off for a while after finishing up this..."

Vaughn is determined to win the College Cup. Even though no one else thinks Gryffindor can create a miracle, Vaughn is not going to pop champagne at halftime.

That evening, he found Flint and, under the man's fearful yet wise gaze, gave him the following instructions:

"I need to participate in team training and have a strategy devised for me."

"what?"

"This time the situation is different. Harry is now able to participate in Gryffindor's offensive system. I need you to come up with a better way to limit him."

"what……"

"Furthermore, I don't want a third person to know about today's conversation. All tactical considerations are your own decisions, understand?"

Marcus Flint's mouth moved, but he ultimately didn't dare to say no.

……

As mentioned earlier, no student likes the Easter holiday.

This dreaded holiday was less of a break and more of a frenzy of professors assigning homework. To make the most of every minute of the young wizards' time and squeeze every last drop of their energy, almost every professor went to great lengths.

This year in particular, in order to improve the quality of assignments and prevent plagiarism, professors have even mandated that young wizards use specially made parchment.

They are enchanted so that they will not only refuse the automatic quill pen, but also refuse the prying eyes of anyone other than their owner.

So, this holiday felt like a nightmare to Ron!

On the last day of the holiday, Ron was sweating profusely as he hunched over his desk, writing furiously. Occasionally, due to a mishap with his "wand divination," his answers would be judged wrong by the parchment, and he would erupt in impotent rage, shouting and arguing.

Hermione, annoyed by his constant nagging, finally snapped when he started yelling and cursing again, "Can't you be quiet for even a minute? Instead of complaining about your wand, why can't you calm down, think carefully about the question, and answer it yourself instead of using...divination?"

Ron declared confidently, "But I can't answer them! I don't know how to answer a single one!"

"Good heavens, then why do you still go to watch Harry train every day? Two weeks is so much time; you could review your first-year curriculum all over again!"

"Nonsense!" Ron didn't believe it at all, and defended himself for going to see Harry train: "I didn't go to see Harry for fun, I went to encourage him. It's the last match of the term, a life-or-death battle. Harry is under tremendous pressure, and someone needs to cheer him on!"

As they were talking, the door to the common room opened, and Harry dragged his exhausted body in. He looked like he was about to die; his face was ashen and his lips were cracked.

The two quickly stopped arguing. Ron ran to help Harry to the sofa, while Hermione poured him a cup of tea.

"Harry, how are you? You look terrible," Hermione asked with concern. "Didn't training go well?"

Harry nodded, as if to say something, but no sound came out when he opened his mouth.

He didn't panic. He had experienced this many times recently and was used to it. It was caused by flying around all day, talking loudly, and getting too much wind in.

He took a sip of tea, which soothed his dry throat, and felt a little better. Then, in a hoarse voice, he said, "Slytherin has developed a new tactic. Angelina secretly saw it yesterday, and Wood and I have been thinking about and practicing ways to counter it all day today."

Upon hearing about the new tactics, Ron immediately became excited and eager to find out the details.

Hermione stopped him: "Can't you see how bad he looks? Can't you let him rest?"

Exhausted, Harry nodded gratefully to Hermes, then asked his two friends, "How about you guys? How was your day?"

Ron said sullenly, "Not so good. She won't let me see you. All I have to do is homework."

When homework was mentioned, Harry suddenly felt that he might as well just die on the field.

No matter how tiring the training is, there's no escaping the homework.

He didn't want to think about that terrifying thing and turned to Hermione: "And you? Still investigating the professors?"

Since Hermione and Vaughn went to the Forbidden Forest a little over a week ago, she has resumed her investigation into dark wizards.

Harry was quite concerned about this matter, after all, he still carried the "curse" of the dark wizard!

"Yes, Harry, I recently re-surveyed the professors..."

Hermione said.

Before he could finish speaking, Ron's eyes widened in shock: "Following? When? Didn't you supervise Harry and me doing our homework every day?"

"Of course, it's when Harry goes to training every day, and you go along to join the fun, Ronald Weasley! Also, don't be too surprised that I have so much time. If you didn't spend ten minutes doing homework and an hour daydreaming, you'd find you have more time than you can use!"

When Hermione gets angry, she's like a fierce little lion, leaving Ron speechless.

Harry scratched his face awkwardly.

He was almost exactly like Ron in terms of getting distracted while doing his homework, so naturally he didn't dare to provoke Hermione's attention.

Fortunately, Hermione didn't dwell on the issue.

She continued, "Based on our previous investigations and the feedback I've received recently, the other professors can basically be ruled out as suspects. Between Snape and Quirrell, I'm more inclined to believe Professor Quirrell is the dark wizard!"

Harry and Ron were not very satisfied with this answer.

Why?

"Yes, that old Snape... I mean, you saw how Snape treated Harry, he practically wanted him dead. By comparison, Professor Quirrell was so good to Harry, he was a huge admirer of Harry!"

Harry scratched his face again, a little embarrassed.

"That's the problem." Hermione's eyes sparkled as she looked at Harry. "Harry, do you remember what you told us about the first time you went into Diagon Alley?"

"Uh, of course I remember, I'll never forget that day."

Harry replied, looking somewhat bewildered, "Why do you ask that?"

Hermione didn't answer directly, but said, "I've realized we've been going around in circles. We're always trying to find out who the dark wizard is by observing the professors' suspicious behavior, but the truth is, we don't have that ability or insight."

"So I tried to think about it from a different angle. Since we can't make judgments based on the professors' current behavior, could we investigate and analyze their past activities?"

"Harry, the day you went to Diagon Alley was also the day Hagrid took the Philosopher's Stone from Gringotts, and the Gringotts theft happened. Of all the professors at Hogwarts, how many did you encounter that day?"

"I..." Harry hesitated, then suddenly realized what Hermione meant. His eyes widened. "...There's only one: the Leaky Cauldron, Quirrell!"

Hagrid takes the Philosopher's Stone, Gringotts is robbed, and Quirrell is at the Leaky Cauldron.

Everything that seemed like a coincidence suddenly connected at this moment.

Seeing Harry's enlightened expression, Hermione nodded in satisfaction: "That's right, I investigated. During that period, apart from Quirrell and Professor McGonagall, all the other professors were at Hogwarts and did not leave. Excluding Professor McGonagall, only Quirrell fits perfectly in terms of time and location with the Gringotts theft."

Neither Ron nor Harry questioned why Professor McGonagall had to be excluded.

Her strictness and fairness had long been deeply ingrained in people's hearts. Even though Harry and Ron had been scolded and reprimanded by her, they never resented her.

The two looked at each other in bewilderment.

Harry was still persistent. "Was Snape at Hogwarts at the time? Maybe he sneaked out?"

"Yes, he is!" Hermione opened her satchel, took out several newspapers and records, and unfolded them for the two to see: "These are the 'Extraordinary Potions' newspapers from those days, as well as the school's owl usage records. Snape was arguing with someone in the newspapers those days because Vaughn was about to enroll, and some apothecaries who opposed Vaughn's magic extraction method were clamoring for Hogwarts to revoke his admission."

"Look here! On the day of the Gringotts heist, Snape used the owl 46 times, almost throughout the entire day—unless he could have been writing letters while simultaneously hacking into Gringotts, it simply couldn't have been him!"

Harry and Ron carefully examined the records.

Indeed, as Hermione said, Snape used the owl very frequently during those days, and the heated "flame war" in the newspapers also matched that frequency.

The owls at Hogwarts are enchanted; all the owls that live there are under contract and their comings and goings are automatically recorded.

Harry felt his mouth was dry and stared blankly for a while before raising his head with a complicated expression.

Although still reluctant to admit it, after Hermione's explanation and the corresponding evidence, no matter how impossible it seems, Quirrell is indeed the most suspicious one at present.

This felt incredibly absurd and unreal to him.

Because, perhaps due to their similar circumstances, he had once been as weak as Quirrell, bullied and looked down upon, so he had always felt sorry for Quirrell.

Quirrell was also the professor at the school who valued and was friendly to him the most.

Long-buried memories resurfaced, and he seemed to see again that terrifying figure from last Halloween night, wandering the fourth-floor corridor, exuding powerful and evil magic that distorted the surrounding light.

My forehead is throbbing slightly as a result.

Harry touched the scar on his forehead, slumped onto the sofa, and asked Hermione, "So, what should we do?"

The unexpected truth left him confused and unable to make up his mind.

Hermione sighed, "There's not much we can do."

"What?"

"These are all inferences and speculations, Harry. We have no evidence. The dark wizard hasn't appeared since Halloween. We can't question a professor with such reasons; that would not only fail to expose him but also alert him!"

Harry's forehead veins bulged, and he became somewhat agitated: "Are we just going to watch?"

Surprisingly, Ron, who is usually impulsive, agreed with Hermione this time: "Harry, Hermione is right. We can't identify a professor based on guesswork alone without evidence. Just like in Muggle society, even if you know someone is a bad guy, you can't do anything to him without evidence."

Harry was breathing heavily. He didn't want to hear those words. All he knew was that he was feeling terrible, a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Although it wasn't particularly intense, the fact that someone who was usually very kind to him secretly wanted to harm him undoubtedly hurt him deeply.

He sat down for a while, then stood up and paced back and forth, thinking it over and over, but he still couldn't stand it anymore. "If you won't do it, I will! I'll go find Professor McGonagall, I'll go find Dumbledore!"

After saying that, he hurriedly ran out of the Gryffindor Tower.

Ron quickly called out, "Harry, don't be impulsive, wait for me!"

They followed.

Hermione sighed and followed behind. In fact, she told Vaughn the moment she deduced the "truth".

Vaughn didn't say whether her hypothesis was correct, but instead asked her, "How are you going to prove it to Dumbledore, to the professors?"

She couldn't prove it, and she didn't believe Professor McGonagall would listen to a student.

Sure enough, when Hermione followed and arrived at Professor McGonagall's office, she heard the stern voice of the Vice-Headmistress inside:

"Mr. Potter, what evidence do you have to prove that Professor Quirrell was the... the dark wizard from Halloween night?"

"I……"

"Mr. Potter, is this some new trick you're using to avoid homework? To be honest, you're incredibly audacious; no student has ever dared to use slandering a professor as an excuse!"

"No, I didn't—"

"Oh, Mr. Potter, have you finished your homework?"

Harry: "..."

Outside the door, Ron's hand, which was about to knock, froze, and Hermione covered her face.

The question, "Have you finished your homework?" extinguished Harry's anger.

He should be thankful that Professor McGonagall was counting on him to do well in the Quidditch tournament after Easter, so she unusually showed favoritism and kept the matter a secret.

Normally, this would definitely be a double punishment for doing extra homework.

Along with his anger, Harry's dependence on adults was also extinguished.

On the way back, he said angrily to his two friends, "I shouldn't have relied on those adults. That dangerous dark wizard, they searched for half a year and still couldn't find him. Since they didn't believe us, then we'll do it ourselves!"

Ron was taken aback: "What? Do it yourself?"

"Of course, we'll keep an eye on Quirrell!" Harry said resolutely and solemnly. "Ron, Hermione, from today onwards, we'll be watching Quirrell's every move. He definitely won't give up the Philosopher's Stone, and sooner or later, he'll be unable to resist revealing his true colors."

"If we can't rely on the adults, then we'll guard the magic stone!"

Ron swallowed hard. He had never faced the dark wizard directly, but he had heard Harry talk about him more than once. Unlike Harry's ignorance of magic, Ron knew very well how powerful and insane a dark wizard who dared to cast the Killing Curse at Hogwarts was.

However, he was, after all, a Gryffindor.

It's impossible for him to back down and show fear of a "mere" dark wizard.

So he quickly came up with a way to reduce the danger:

"Harry, I think we need to tell Vaughn about this. We can't count on the professors; only Vaughn can help us now. At least he stopped that dark wizard before!"

Hermione, standing nearby, couldn't help but roll her eyes: "Don't you always hate asking your brother for help?"

"These are two different things," Ron said righteously. "I don't usually ask him for help because of my dignity. Now I want to ask him for your safety. What does sacrificing my own dignity matter if it means your safety?"

Hermione: "..."

Harry's eyes welled up with tears of emotion.

……

The next day at noon, Ron appeared furtively outside Vaughn's dormitory.

Guoguocha greeted him with her paws.

Perhaps because he needed something from it, Ron didn't scold it this time.

He even brought Guoguocha a bag of dried fish, but Guoguocha didn't even smell it and dismissively swept it away with its tail.

Ron told Vaughn what had happened and their plans, then looked at him expectantly: "You'll help us, right?"

The spacious bedroom, which could originally accommodate 4 or 5 people but now houses only Vaughn, is filled with the shimmering light reflected from the Black Lake, making everything seem quiet and mysterious.

Vaughn sat behind his desk, half his face hidden in darkness, making it impossible for Ron to see his expression. Ron could only see that Vaughn was resting his chin on his hand, and his gaze seemed to hold a hint of interest.

What if I answer "no"?

"Merlin!" Ron's mouth dropped open. "Harry's your friend, Hermione's your girlfriend, and me, your brother..."

"Ha—Ronald Weasley, we've grown up together, how many times have you admitted to being the younger brother?"

Ron's face flushed red. "Why are you talking so much nonsense? Are you going to say yes or no?"

"Huh? Is this how you beg for help?" Vaughn toyed with his quill and said with a smile, "I'm not entirely convinced. I'll give you another chance."

Ron tensed his jaw, as if he were gritting his teeth.

But he couldn't hold out any longer, and squeezed out a whisper through gritted teeth: "Brother! Brother! Please help us!"

Seeing his awkwardness, Vaughn laughed heartily and finally nodded as Ron looked on the verge of collapse: "No problem, my dear brother. Although you are stupid and have a bad temper, like a rock in the toilet, as your older brother, I will never hate or give up on you."

Ron: "...I've never seen a brother like you before!"

"Now you've seen it, Ronald. Speaking of which, if you were so unwilling, why didn't you let Hermione tell me?"

Ron snorted: "I made the suggestion, so naturally I can't just sit back and do nothing!"

Tsk!

It seems I did underestimate this guy's courage and sense of responsibility. Courage and reckless "recklessness" are two different concepts. In the past, Vaughn always thought Ron was a bit like the latter.

After seeing Ron off, Vaughn went straight to the principal's office.

Dumbledore, who had just finished lunch and was enjoying dessert, informed Harry and his two companions of their decision to keep an eye on Quirrell.

Dumbledore was not surprised: "As expected, Vaughn. Harry is not a child who gives up easily. He can be quite reckless at times, and it is precisely because of this flaw that he needs to be tested even more."

"But in my opinion, your and the professors' inaction has seriously damaged Harry's trust in you, and may even lead him to consider you less and less in his future actions."

"I am pleased to see this change," Dumbledore smiled. "In the past, I loved to show off my wisdom and try to bring everyone into my plans and rhythm. But after experiencing setbacks, I tried to compromise and let a free soul develop according to his own will. He showed me more possibilities."

Sitting across from him, Vaughn narrowed his eyes slightly: "This so-called free spirit, could it be me?"

"Correct answer, darling!"

"Tsk—"

"I have indeed learned a lot from you, my child. I used to think that I was always right. I proudly looked down on others, manipulated them, and became accustomed to their dependence on me, which in turn made them become accustomed to depending on me..."

He shook his head. "Actually, I know that you have always disapproved of me testing Harry. Unlike Severus, who simply found it boring, your opposition stems from a difference in beliefs. You believe that no one can control everything forever, especially when trying to manipulate one or many living beings."

"Life cannot always operate within a prescribed framework; it will find its own way... This is something you once said, and it is very philosophical, even beyond the understanding of many adults."

"So I'm glad that Harry can break free from dependence and try to act and think independently, even if he's a bit reckless."

Vaughn listened silently for a moment before saying mockingly, "But now they seem to be relying on me!"

Dumbledore smiled and said, "It's alright. You'll end up like me, leaving the school due to some unexpected event, allowing Harry and the others to happily embark on their independent adventures."

Insidious old man!

Vaughn curled his lip, and said with no small amount of malice, "To be honest, this change of yours makes me feel like you're making your final arrangements."

This was originally just a sarcastic remark.

But the next moment, Vaughn was astonished to see Dumbledore shrug: "You could say that this consideration was one of the reasons that led to my change of mind."

The office fell silent at his words.

After a long silence, Vaughn finally frowned and spoke: "Fate?"

"Yes... fate, a premonition, a premonition that I will embark on another journey in the future..."

"When will you die?"

"have no idea."

"What caused your death?"

"have no idea."

Vaughn stared speechlessly at Dumbledore: "Knowing nothing? What kind of prophecy is that? I also know I will die one day. Everyone dies eventually!"

Dumbledore smiled and stroked his beard: "It's different, my dear. You don't have a talent for divination, so it's hard for me to describe the feeling to you. It's like... like you're struggling with a difficult problem, thinking about it in a daze, and then, without warning, you suddenly get the answer, and your mind becomes clearer than ever before."

"A strong, almost instinctive feeling told me that one day, a few years from now, my life would come to an end because of something."

Vaughn tried hard to think, but he still couldn't imagine what that state was like. Based on Dumbledore's analogy, he felt it was more like the old man had a mental problem.

And this guy even took the opportunity to mock his divination talent, how infuriating!

Normally, Vaughn would have retorted, but today he unusually held back and asked Dumbledore, "Is there any way to avoid this?"

To Vaughn's surprise, Dumbledore responded nonchalantly: "Why avoid it?"

Vaughn frowned, looking at Dumbledore with surprise: "The Albus Dumbledore I know is not one to submit to fate!"

Dumbledore laughed heartily: "My child, human nature is a very complex and contradictory thing. There is no label that can accurately summarize a person's character and ideological tendencies."

"Yes, I do not like to submit to the arrangements of fate. Whether it was Grindelwald or Tom decades ago, I liked to rebel and fight back, to make fate develop in the way I expected."

"But all of that is because the vortex of fate stirred up by Grindelwald and Tom has too great an impact. If no one intervenes, countless innocent lives will be lost, so I have to fight. But if it were just the life and death of Albus Dumbledore, such a trivial fate, why should I resist?"

He smiled and picked up a cockroach, popping it into his mouth: "As you said, every human being will eventually perish. The difference is that some people die in a warm bed, while others die on the battlefield."

"Remember what I said? Death is just another great adventure."

Vaughn remained silent, unsure how to evaluate this mindset: was it magnanimity? Or escapism?

Compared to the contradictions Dumbledore displayed, Vaughn felt that he was more pure—he would never entrust his life and future to a vague, intangible concept.

He revered fate, but he revered the knowledge and power contained within it, not fate itself!

After a moment of silence, Vaughn asked, "So, whose vortex of fate gave you this premonition of death?"

Dumbledore once said that fate is like a wicked god, and every age will give birth to children of fate, who will stir up storms and whirlpools in the web of destiny, fight each other, and implicate the innocent.

If we follow the original storyline, Dumbledore's death would definitely be because of Harry and Tom.

But now, that's not necessarily the case.

Upon hearing his words, Dumbledore paused, a smile playing on his aged face: "I'm sorry, dear, I didn't know."

Vaughn stopped talking and lowered his eyes.

Did Dumbledore really not know?

He recalled seeing the magic Dumbledore used to observe the Web of Fate. Perhaps Dumbledore couldn't make prophecies, but he could still trace the origins of fate through observation of the Web of Fate.

His "I don't know" might just be a statement he doesn't want to make.

Perhaps the person who caused his premonition of death was right beside him...

……

At night, the Black Lake outside the Slytherin common room was deep and dark, and even the pale blue light of magical flames could not dispel the darkness.

Vaughn lay in bed, gazing up at the tassels hanging from the curtains above him, his mind still pondering Dumbledore's words about the premonition of death.

In fact, he always remembered one thing.

Dumbledore once told him that the vortex of Harry and Tom's fate was disturbed when he established the Werewolf Affairs Committee.

Vaughn's understanding of fate was limited, but the interaction of everything in the world follows the same logic to some extent—what can affect one vortex must be another, larger vortex that is forming.

It wasn't the Werewolf Affairs Committee that interfered with Harry and Tom's fate.

It was Vaughn Weasley who personally spearheaded its formation!

Vaughn has always been clear about what he needs and what he is pursuing.

Vaughn doesn't actually like the current wizarding world.

In his view, the magical world's potential has not been fully realized. This power and knowledge system, which is completely different from Muggle natural science, has been passively managed by lazy wizards.

Magic and alchemy have existed for thousands of years, yet even in modern times, they have not been systematically compiled into a rigorous and precise system, and the lifestyle of wizards seems to still be stuck in the Middle Ages.

In particular, the so-called "International Secrecy Act," a law that completely separates the wizarding world from Muggle society, is simply a step backward for the times!

(End of this chapter)