Ever since the start of term, Vaughn Weasley's reputation as Hogwarts' top-performing first-year had already become common knowledge.
Even Hermione Granger, who originally treated him like a scholarly rival, eventually stopped trying to compete. Spending two months around Ron and Harry had worn down her drive—these days, the only thing that could truly ignite her temper was the threat of losing House points.
At the Gryffindor table, Vaughn sat deep in thought while Ron leaned so far across the bench that he was practically lying on it, desperate to hear whatever Vaughn was about to say.
Then—
WHAM.
A large package dropped directly onto Ron's head.
"BLOODY HELL, Juvetune! I knew it hated me!"
Ron glared at the Weasley family's newly purchased Eurasian eagle-owl, which glided down toward Vaughn with the regal disdain of a royal phoenix. Ginny had named the owl Juvetune, and it had taken over courier duties from poor, exhausted Errol.
Ever since Ron had jokingly called it Pig, the owl refused to look him in the eye.
Harry ignored Ron's feud with the bird. His attention was glued to the package—its size and shape were unmistakable.
"Vaughn… is that…?"
Vaughn opened the parcel with a bright grin.
"Exactly what you think, Harry. A broomstick. A Nimbus Two Thousand."
Ron grabbed his chest like he'd been hit with a Stunning Spell.
"You—you actually got a Nimbus Two Thousand?!"
"Of course not," Vaughn said cheerfully. "It was a gift—from Professor Snape."
Harry's stomach plummeted.
Because this was all too familiar.
Not long ago, Harry had been given his own Nimbus Two Thousand—a congratulatory gift from Professor McGonagall when he became Gryffindor's Seeker.
Hermione realised the implication instantly and gasped.
"Vaughn… don't tell me you joined the Quidditch team too?"
"That's right, Hermione. Professor Snape thinks I have excellent potential. He wants me to help Slytherin win the Cup."
The smile on Vaughn's face was sunny.
Harry's expression was not.
He remembered vividly their first flying lesson—how he and Vaughn had surged into the sky, side by side, matching each other's speed and precision.
The memory gnawed at him.
He carried it all day.
He even forgot to ask Vaughn about Nicolas Flamel until late that night—
only to realise Vaughn still hadn't told him anything.
On the bed beside him, Ron was stomping back and forth like a furious solicitor preparing closing arguments.
"That bat Snape is doing this on purpose! McGonagall gives you a broom, and Snape immediately shoves Vaughn into Slytherin's team! He's trying to mess with your head! It's psychological warfare, Harry—divide and conquer!"
Harry had to cut him off.
"Ron, you sound mad. That's not what I'm worried about."
Ron blinked. "It's not?"
Harry hesitated.
"I'm not jealous of Vaughn. I'm just… worried."
Ron frowned. "Why worried?"
"He's really good," Harry admitted quietly. "What if I lose to him? Wood's counting on me. The team's counting on me. I don't want to let them down."
Ron scratched his head helplessly, unsure how to comfort him.
Saturday — The First Frost of October
The Scottish Highlands greeted October with a thin crust of frost coating the grass.
It was Slytherin's morning training session—and this one was special.
Vaughn Weasley, the second first-year in a century to join a House team, was making his debut.
Naturally, half the school turned up to watch.
When Harry and Ron squeezed into the stands, they found:
Slytherins filling the centre rows
Hufflepuffs clustered nearby—Cedric Diggory and a group of Vaughn's regular Transfiguration partners waving a banner:
GO VAUGHN!
Ravenclaw girls squealing so loudly the air seemed perfumed
Even Gryffindors were present. Fred and George had hung up a magically animated bedsheet depicting Vaughn catching the Snitch.
Hermione stood beside them, wand in hand, improving the artwork's animation charms.
Ron looked like he was about to explode.
"You traitors!" he shouted at the twins.
"That's our brother, Ronnie," Fred called.
"And your older brother too, Ronnie," George added smugly.
"They're just sucking up to Vaughn," Ron muttered to Harry. "If I joined the team, they'd probably prank me instead!"
Harry didn't answer.
His attention had snapped toward Oliver Wood.
Wood looked surprisingly calm—even confident.
"Relax, Harry," he said. "I've watched you fly. There's no way he's better."
Harry nodded…
…but then Slytherin's practice began.
Vaughn Weasley Takes Flight
Today's session tested Vaughn's skills as Seeker.
Slytherin's Chasers and Beaters acted as blockers, launching Bludgers and cutting him off at sharp angles.
Vaughn—wearing sleek windproof goggles—rose into the air on his new Nimbus Two Thousand and stared down at the enormous crowd.
"…I think I underestimated how much witches and wizards love Quidditch."
He'd read about it many times, of course.
But reading was nothing compared to witnessing hundreds of spectators roaring in anticipation.
A thought struck him—dangerous, tantalizing:
If popularity counted toward reputation,
then Quidditch might be the fastest way
to boost his monthly System rewards.
His eyes sharpened.
"Well then… time to put on a show."
He leaned forward.
The Nimbus Two Thousand exploded into motion.
Students gasped as Vaughn blurred across the sky—a streak of black weaving through green uniforms.
A Bludger hurtled toward him.
Vaughn twisted sideways, so close his robes rippled from the force.
He shot through a narrow gap between two Chasers—one yelped, nearly dropping his broom.
Then Vaughn saw it.
A glimmer of gold.
Fluttering left. Right. Up.
The Snitch.
Vaughn arrowed toward it.
Fifty seconds later—
he rocketed straight upward, arm raised high, the Snitch glittering between his fingers.
The stadium erupted.
The cheers shook the stands.
Harry looked up—
and saw Oliver Wood slowly drain of colour.
(End of Chapter )
PS : Juvetune – The Weasley family's eagle owl, named by Ginny; holds a personal grudge against Ron.
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