Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 223 A Warning from Fate

"So, Vaughn has trained me to be this strong—it turns out the weak one isn't me, but rather Vaughn is just too powerful!"

He then chanted a spell and unleashed a dancing spell, watching Draco Malfoy struggle to defend himself against his fierce onslaught, looking utterly pathetic.

Harry's spirits lifted instantly. He spoke rapidly and cast a disarming spell with precise and swift movements. In the instant Draco barely dodged it, a petrification spell was also uttered, striking Draco who had lost his balance and had no time to dodge.

Draco froze, then collapsed heavily to the ground!

Crack!

When Dumbledore emerged from the air, what came into view was not his destination, Diagon Alley, but the sky, the land, and even the distant mountains and sea.

They all lost their original shape.

The threads, of unknown origin and destination, intertwine, become tangled, knotted, and then disperse, filling every inch of space and entwining every breath of air.

The whole world has become a complex web!

Such a bizarre sight did not surprise Dumbledore. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and murmured, "Fate—"

Yes, this is what "fate" looks like in his eyes.

No, it should be described as a partial view!

No one knows the true form of fate. Even the earliest wizards, those who have become figures in Muggle mythology, saw fate no different from their own.

This can be seen in the descriptions of gods who control fate in Muggle mythology.

Since gaining the magic to glimpse destiny on the Path of Legends, Dumbledore has become familiar with this perspective and the reason for its appearance over the decades. It usually signifies that he has stepped into the vortex of the chosen one.

Reaching out my hand, I watched as a few strands of silk thread passed through my palm, drifting downwards and into the distance, their erratic trajectories making it impossible to discern their possible destinations.

But Dumbledore can!

He drew his wand and gently swung it in front of him. A massive surge of magic rose and fell abruptly, without disturbing the threads of the world.

But in Dumbledore's senses, he could indeed see clumps of rolling yarn in that intricate web, which seemed to have even space itself cut apart.

Densely packed, endlessly worry-free!

Dumbledore knew that those clumps of yarn were individual lives, objects existing in reality. Fate is the most expansive and also the most ruthless thing.

It encompasses not only sentient beings, but also unborn, dead, organic, and inorganic things—all tangible and intangible things in the world are included in its "net".

Looking at the countless rolling balls of yarn above, below, left, and right, Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, put away his wand, and pulled out another wand from his sleeve, which looked very similar to Vaughn's elder wand.

The staff is black with protruding knots that resemble joints, and it has no other decorations, making it look quite ordinary.

Only Dumbledore knew that the moment the wand touched his hand, the magic within him surged so much that it was almost uncontrollable!

He closed his eyes slightly, held the elderwood wand between his fingers, and gently shook the tip of the wand, pointing to the countless balls of yarn in the distance.

With each movement of his lips, he chanted an obscure incantation.

A moment later, Dumbledore opened his eyes, and the elder wand "disintegrated" before his eyes, turning into extremely fine lines that wrapped around and enveloped him.

Then, they dragged him into the all-encompassing "net" that covered the heavens and the earth—

To glimpse destiny, one must become a part of it. This is the original principle of equivalent exchange in the magical world, and the origin of contract magic related to destiny, such as the Loyalty Charm.

As he sank into the web, Dumbledore clearly felt his consciousness traveling through a series of illusory scenes.

A somber old castle estate.

The noisy Diagon Alley.

A pink little backpack embroidered with fluffy kapok leaves.

Then, a boy wearing a cloak steals "him" from his schoolbag, and the boy runs into a dark alley, and the scene changes again.

"They'll all turn to petrification—"

The voice of the spell seemed both close at hand and from a distant place. The voice was so familiar that Dumbledore's illusory vision saw another child holding "him," his expression excited and distorted, knocking the cloaked boy to the ground just moments before.

"Harry—Draco—then, what am I?"

Dumbledore pondered.

Harry appeared, and without a doubt, his perspective after entering the Net was the key factor that led Harry back to the stage of destiny!

Fate has arranged for Harry and Tom to be rivals on stage, so naturally, Dumbledore thought of Horcruxes!

Harry has come into contact with a Horcrux!

This realization immediately stirred Dumbledore's consciousness; he knew that the last thing he saw was in the present continuous tense.

In other words, right at this very moment, in a dark alley in Diagon Alley, Harry has just defeated Draco Malfoy and taken back the Horcrux that Draco had stolen.

We must stop him!

However, just as this thought crossed his mind, Dumbledore "saw" something. His vision flickered, and the next second, with a tremendous roar, he was thrown out of the net as if he had been struck hard by something.

The threads between heaven and earth vanished in an instant, and even the city of London disappeared. In the midst of the dizzying spin, Dumbledore saw darkness, as if he had fallen into an abyss, with blackness flashing past him like a rapidly moving slider.

Then came a riot of colors, a jumbled mess.

Then, everything turned gray!

thump!

As if he had bumped into something, Dumbledore's vision finally stopped. He looked around at the undulating world shrouded in gray mist, his expression a mixture of astonishment, understanding, and bitterness: "Aether—"

Yes, he was kicked out by "fate," kicked into the ether—

But this wasn't the end. He saw the gray fog churn, and in an instant, a dim yellow light slowly pierced through the fog, gradually but resolutely extending towards him—

"Look at you, you've set a great example for your child, Arthur Weasley, in public, in full view of everyone, you, as a father, with that damned Malfoy—"

"Mom, you swore."

"Shut up, George!"

"I am George, Mom—"

"Okay, shut up, Fred!"

Fred quickly gestured with his lips to indicate he should shut up, then looked out the window at the receding reeds and eavesdropped on his mother continuing to berate his father who was driving: "—Now look what's happened, caught red-handed by the Aurors! I, your four sons, and your 11-year-old daughter are all punished because of you and are banned from entering Diagon Alley for a month!"

"The Malfoys are the same—"

"Arthur Weasley!" Molly yelled.

Arthur immediately shut up, appearing completely focused on driving.

Molly was still not satisfied: "They even kicked you out of Diagon Alley and won't let you stay in London, Merlin, do you know what we're going to do today?"

"Uh...buy Ginny school supplies..."

"We still need to pick up Vaughn!"

Molly roared, then wiped her eyes: "Because of your recklessness, your bad temper, our dear Vaughn might still be waiting in the Muggle harbor for his long-lost family to come and pick him up, and you—"

"Mom, it's Vaughn!"

Ginny screamed, Molly's sobbing stopped abruptly, and Arthur quickly stopped the car.

Ginny slammed the car door open, calling Vaughn's name as she ran towards home. Everyone crowded to look out the car window and saw the reeds swaying in the wind, like the end of waves. In front of the Burrow, Vaughn, with his red hair flowing, looked back.

Then he was tackled to the ground by Ginny's screams.

When Vaughn woke up in the early morning, he experienced shortness of breath for the first time in a long time. He looked down, pulled back the covers, and saw a small head with long orange hair resting on his chest.

It's Ginny.

The little girl, just like before, liked to linger in his room and not leave.

However, she now has an accomplice.

Vaughn pulled the blanket back a little more, and beneath Ginny's head, a huge cat's head rested on his stomach. With the sound of the blanket being pulled back, the cat's head stretched and turned its head: "Meow~"

"That clingy little rascal!"

-

"Meow!"

"Okay, okay, it's my fault. I shouldn't have left you behind."

He reached out and ruffled Guoguocha's head a few times to soothe it, then carefully pried open Ginny's arms and legs, which were wrapped around him like a koala.

The little girl mumbled a few words, then turned around and hugged the blanket.

"Oh!"

Vaughn chuckled, got up, and opened the window.

The humble dwelling nestled in the reeds at the foot of Weasel Mountain enjoys a coolness rarely seen near the village of Saint Cachipol. Even in summer, it is not too hot, especially in the mornings and evenings when a moist and cool mist drifts out from the reeds and spreads towards Weasel Mountain.

The wind blew down from the mountain, stirring up the mist, but the moisture also absorbed the heat. It swept over the humble dwelling and past the window, bringing a refreshing coolness.

In the distance, the morning sun cast shadows on the mountains, which were then blurred by the swirling mist, resembling a giant tree shade.

Bathed in the hazy light and shadow, Vaughn stretched his limbs, which were sore and numb from being weighed down by Ginny and Fruit Tea, and felt a sense of peace.

After reminiscing for a while about his morning at home, Vaughn, along with Guoguocha, who had also jumped out of bed and was lazily leaning against the wall, left the room.

The humble abode was still asleep in the early morning, with only creaking sounds coming from the attic—that was ghouls. These nasty creatures were always impossible to eradicate completely; once a room was left empty for a while, new ghouls would sneak in from somewhere and move in.

Vaughn was in a good mood today and didn't want to bother with it, so he turned around and prepared to leave.

Just then, the door across the hall opened, and Harry walked out, glasses in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. He was visibly startled to see Vaughn, then quickly recovered, put his glasses back on, and gave a smile that was a mixture of joy and nervousness: "Hi, Vaughn, good morning!"

Vaughn stared at his slightly darkened eyes and gave a slight smile. "Good morning, Harry. Mom said you've only been here a couple of days. Are you having trouble adjusting to the sleep?"

"Ah, no, no—"

"Speak freely if you have any questions, Harry, you even have dark circles under your eyes!"

"Uh, no problem, I was just so happy yesterday—yes, you see, you're back! There was a feast yesterday, and Mrs. Weasley cooked a sumptuous and exquisite Eastern dinner. I ate with great pleasure and excitement; yes, the food kept me up all night!"

Vaughn smiled wryly, recalling the time he met Harry on the train last year when Harry was a shy little boy who couldn't even lie.

Now, he can make up stories without batting an eye.

However, he was too lazy to expose the other party, but a glint of inspiration flashed in his eyes as he observed Harry.

In my magical vision, I didn't see anything unusual about Harry.

Vaughn didn't have the ability to observe fate, but he figured Harry had probably already gotten his hands on the notebook. Although it was just a dark magic item that Voldemort had created in his youth, Voldemort was, after all, a genius chosen by fate. If he wanted to hide his creation, even Dumbledore probably wouldn't have noticed anything amiss.

So he wasn't surprised, and simply nodded in agreement with Harry's excuse: "If you like, we can have two more meals today, hot pot, okay?"

"Ah, yes, very good!" Harry replied hastily.

"It's settled then—I'm going downstairs to wash up, Harry, want to come with me?"

"Huh?" Harry realized he was blocking Vaughn's way and quickly moved aside. "No need, you go first. I—I might need to sleep a little longer."

"Okay, you really need to rest more. I'll tell Mom not to wake you."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries and watching Vaughn bring the fruit tea downstairs, Harry finally let out a soft sigh and wiped his forehead.

He was so nervous he was sweating.

To avoid meeting Vaughn alone again for the time being, he turned and went back to Ron's bedroom. Just as he closed the door, he heard a voice behind him say softly, "Have you done something wrong, Harry?"

Harry jumped in fright again: "My God—Ron, my heart can't take it!"

He turned around and saw that she was already awake, sitting on the bed looking at him resentfully.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, what guilty conscience you've been having."

"Hmph, I heard your conversation with Vaughn. It was stiff and awkward. You weren't like this when you were with him before."

"I—I'm a little nervous—"

"Nervous? Weren't you looking forward to Vaughn's return? You've been acting strange since you came back yesterday, always spacing out and lost in thought. At the dinner party, you barely spoke to Vaughn—what are you so nervous about?"

"Uh, I—I haven't seen him in a long time. He's done so much this summer. Now, facing him, I don't know what to say. I feel like—he's from a different world than us."

Ron glanced at Harry suspiciously a few more times, then lay back down and grumbled, "Not from the same world—could he possibly become an alien? Speaking of which, Harry, do aliens really exist in Muggle society?"

"That's fake, Ron, an urban legend—"

"In Muggle society, wizards are also urban legends!"

"—That's different. Think about it, if there were aliens, how could the magical world not know?"

Upon hearing this, Ron seemed to realize something, then sighed with a touch of disappointment: "You're right. It's such a pity. If only aliens were real, with powerful technology like in the movies, capable of anything—"

Harry knew that Ron was daydreaming again.

Whenever his friend was in front of his twin brother Vaughn, he would unconsciously start daydreaming, as if only in this way could he balance the envy and jealousy in his heart.

Of course, he also knew that Ron's "symptoms" wouldn't last long and there was no need to worry too much.

He crawled back into his bed—a bed that Mrs. Weasley had specially prepared for him after he arrived, and had even cast a spell to make it bigger. It was said to be Vaughn's old bed, but Vaughn had stopped living with Ron when he was six years old.

Not long after lying back in bed, Harry heard Ron snoring.

He chuckled to himself, then suppressed his smile, looked up at Ron who had fallen asleep again, and to make sure he wouldn't wake up, he quietly took a notebook out of the covers, unscrewed the ink bottle from the bedside shelf, and dipped his quill pen in the ink.

Slowly open the laptop.

The notebook was completely blank; he wrote something on a random page:

Hi, are you still there?

"Harry! Honey, snap out of it, are you alright?"

Molly's call startled Harry, and he snapped back to reality, staring in astonishment at everything on the table.

Everyone is looking at you.

"Uh, what?"

Beside him, Molly touched his forehead with concern: "Honey, are you feeling unwell? You look terrible."

Harry's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but looking at the worried Molly, the lie got stuck in his throat, and for some reason he couldn't say it.

Vaughn came to his rescue: "Mom, Harry's having trouble sleeping."

"Really? Harry, did Ron disturb you?"

Across from him, Ron glared.

But Molly's eyes widened even more than his, silencing any attempt at rebuttal or explanation.

Vaughn chuckled and said, "I chatted with Harry this morning, and he said he had trouble sleeping because of the Eastern food he ate last night. He really wants to try it again today. I guess he's just too embarrassed to ask, that's why he can't sleep, right, Harry?"

Harry blushed, not wanting to admit it, yet not daring to deny it.

Molly, however, clearly believed him. The kind-hearted witch hugged Harry tightly, her voice filled with heartache: "Poor child—Ron used to say you were abused by your aunt and uncle, and I didn't quite believe it—Merlin—"

"Silly child, just tell me what you want to eat. What's there to be embarrassed about?"

"Mom, I promised Harry I'd let him try hot pot today."

"Oh, of course, Arthur, you can go home from work—"

"Mom, I'm going to London to run some errands this afternoon, so don't bother Dad. I can go to the Chinese supermarket in London to do my shopping."

Upon hearing Vaughn's words, the twins who had been watching the commotion, and Ginny who had been playing with Fruit Tea, immediately raised their hands: "Mommy, I want to go too!"

"Me too! Me too!"

"That's enough!"

Molly released Harry, who was nearly suffocating, and glared sternly at the children: "Vaughn can go, but you all have to stay home!"

"Why!"

Fred and George were very indignant.

"Have you forgotten? Because of your dear father, everyone in our family except Vaughn is forbidden from setting foot in Diagon Alley for a month. That's already embarrassing enough. I can't allow you to be caught by the Aurors and suffer an even more humiliating punishment!"

On the other side of the table, Arthur, who had been all smiles, quickly turned his back and used a newspaper to block the burning gazes of his daughters and sons.

"Mom, why should we be the ones to blame for Dad's trouble—"

"Shut up, Fred! Guess why the Aurors punished our whole family? Huh? Yesterday, when your father and Malfoy were fighting, who kicked Malfoy in the head? Who grabbed Malfoy's arm and bit him? Who stuck their finger up Malfoy's nostril—"

Molly's short, plump body burst forth with tremendous energy.

Nearby, Harry, who had finally caught his breath, was surprised to see Percy, the twins, Ginny, and Ron all lowering their heads as Molly pointed and gestured.

So—yesterday, it was the Weasleys all taking on Malfoy alone?

""

Molly was clearly furious. The anger she hadn't finished venting yesterday because of Vaughn's return was now completely unleashed: "—The old folks are a handful, and the kids are no different! When did I ever teach you to fight? Or to have the whole family brawl in front of everyone! Anyway, until the first day of school, none of you are allowed to leave the Burrow. Starting today—the garden hasn't been cleaned in ages, so all of you go clean the garden today!"

Turning to face Vaughn and Harry, she finally smiled and said, "Vaughn, my darling, are you sure you can go by yourself?"

"Of course, Mom."

"Alright then, you can take Harry—"

Before she could finish speaking, Harry quickly looked up and said, "Madam, I would like to stay at the Burrow and clean the garden."

Molly put her arm around Harry's shoulder, and Harry quickly took a deep breath. Fortunately, this time Molly didn't suffocate him with her broad chest; she just patted his head and said, "Darling, that's their punishment. You don't have to get involved."

Harry glanced at Vaughn, who was squinting at him, and forced a smile: "It's alright, madam. I've never seen a wizarding family's garden before. I've heard Ron say that they pull out goblins and such. I'd like to see it for myself."

He genuinely didn't want to be alone with Vaughn; he was afraid his secret would be exposed.

Having said that, Molly couldn't refuse any longer and had no choice but to agree to Harry's request.

To the Weasley kids, this was utterly ridiculous.

After breakfast, Vaughn and Arthur Apparated away together. As Ron led Harry toward the garden, he was scolding his good friend: "I really don't understand why you would want to see how to clean the garden? It's tiring and dirty, and..." Before he finished speaking, Ron suddenly buried his head in the peony garden next to him. The peony branches trembled wildly. Ron straightened up again, his face covered in mud, and he was carrying a small monster in his hand.

The monster looked extremely distorted, with a small body, rough and gray skin, and limbs as thin as bamboo poles. Only its huge head was round like a potato.

It struggled in Ron's grasp, its voice shrill: "Let me go, you idiot!"

Harry Potter, a complete novice in the wizarding world, was seeing this strange creature for the first time. He even temporarily forgot his worries and asked Ron with great interest, "What is this thing?"

"I told you, goblin," Ron said sternly.

The goblin cursed loudly in his grasp, "You stupid pig, trying to throw me out? You can't get rid of me!"