In truth, before Tom Riddle, Hogwarts had never forbidden the study of Dark Magic—nor had it rejected research into the soul.
Books detailing the creation of Horcruxes, such as Secrets of the Darkest Art, were once kept openly in the Restricted Section. With a professor's permission, any student could borrow them.
That only changed after Tom became that thing.
In order to uncover the secret of his immortality, Albus Dumbledore personally removed every book Tom had ever borrowed—especially those related to Dark Magic and the soul.
Vaughan pinched the bridge of his nose, speechless.
Damn it, Tom.
When Vaughan had visited Dumbledore's office earlier, he hadn't seen a single book of that kind. The old man had obviously hidden them all away.
With Tom's precedent hanging over everything, Vaughan knew the chances of borrowing such books from Dumbledore were slim at best.
In fact, his current relationship with Dumbledore was… delicate.
In order to intervene more deeply in the intertwined destinies of Harry and Tom, Vaughan had already revealed part of what he knew—
including Horcruxes, and Harry's abnormal condition.
Even if those revelations could be wrapped in other explanations, knowing about Horcruxes at all was enough to put Dumbledore on high alert.
At present, Vaughan and Dumbledore were still in a phase of mutual caution and probing.
They trusted each other in some matters, yet guarded themselves fiercely in others.
Vaughan didn't want to become Dumbledore's tool against Voldemort.
And Dumbledore feared creating another Voldemort.
"I'll have to find a way to loosen Old Dumbledore's grip—bit by bit," Vaughan muttered.
Harry might actually be a good shield.
As long as Dumbledore was convinced Vaughan wouldn't walk Tom's path…
—Wait.
Vaughan suddenly realized something.
No matter how you looked at it, this was all Tom's fault.
Damn you, Tom.
"Ah—CHOO!"
Leaving Gryffindor Tower, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger ran into Quirinus Quirrell just after exchanging greetings with a professor.
Quirrell sneezed violently—so hard his nose practically ran.
Suppressing his disgust, Harry asked, "Professor, are you all right?"
Quirrell's face looked terrible. He had wrapped himself tightly in a fur-lined cloak, bundled into a miserable lump.
Thin wisps of steam rose from his ears—the side effect of a Pepper-Up Potion.
Unfortunately, the steam only made the garlic stench from his turban even stronger.
"N-no, n-no problem, P-P-Potter…" he said with a strained smile.
"Madam P-P-Pomfrey says I've c-caught a c-cold… Ah! I—I need r-rest. G-goodbye!"
With a pained groan, he scuttled away along the wall, moving in tiny, frantic steps.
Hermione whispered sympathetically, "He must have frozen yesterday. He fainted in the Great Hall, and the Headmaster didn't even remember him until the very end."
Just then, a passing student spotted Quirrell and shouted,
"Professor Quirrell—look out! There's a troll!"
Laughter exploded around them.
Ever since Quirrell had fainted from fear while the troll was killed by Vaughan, no student showed him even a shred of respect.
Watching the scene, Harry sighed.
"If I were him, I'd leave Hogwarts forever and never come back."
Then he hesitated.
"Do you think… the person who tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone could be him?"
"No way," Harry said firmly. "You'd be better off suspecting Crabbe and Goyle. Quirrell? What could he possibly do?"
The insult was devastating.
In their mental ranking, Crabbe and Goyle were already at the lower bound of humanoid intelligence—there was nowhere further down to go.
Hermione shot Harry a glare.
The two of them sneaked cautiously into the Slytherin common room, hidden deep beneath the castle. Soon enough, they found themselves staring at the famous words carved above an old stone door.
Lake View.
"So… how do we get in?" Harry whispered nervously. "We don't know the password!"
This was Slytherin territory—the lair of the evil House. Who knew what awaited inside?
Hermione hugged her book bag and said calmly, "We wait."
After quite a while, a girl wearing the silver serpent crest finally appeared.
Summoning her courage, Hermione stopped her.
"We're friends of Vaughan Weasley. We want to visit him—could you let us in?"
The girl was tall and broad-shouldered, her arms thicker than Harry's legs. She eyed them sharply, then seemed to recognize Harry and grinned.
"Follow me."
She spoke the password, and the door opened.
Harry and Hermione froze.
Through the enormous window, sunlight filtered through the frozen Black Lake, refracting into shimmering waves beneath the water. Aquatic plants swayed gently, fish drifting lazily through the glowing blue-green light.
For a moment, neither of them could speak.
No wonder Vaughan calls it a lake-view room…
Several students were inside. Draco Malfoy was among them. The instant he saw Harry, he jumped to his feet.
"Potter, you—"
Before he could finish, the older girl pointed toward a staircase.
"Weasley's dormitory is up there. Two floors up, second door on the left."
Malfoy immediately sat back down as if nothing had happened.
Harry pretended he hadn't seen him either. Only after they reached the stairs did he exhale heavily.
"That scared me half to death. Malfoy—and so many Slytherins…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "What are you afraid of? Didn't you notice? The moment she mentioned Vaughan's name, none of them dared move."
Harry had noticed.
And he was intensely jealous.
Who wouldn't want that kind of presence?
Following the directions, they found Vaughan's dormitory easily.
Hermione had just knocked when the door opened by itself.
A large, fluffy cat clung to the door handle, meowing at her.
Hermione's face lit up. She scooped it up immediately.
"Oh! Guo Guo Cha can open doors now? You're brilliant!"
The cat rubbed against her affectionately, then flicked his tail across Harry—barely acknowledging him.
Harry didn't care.
The moment he stepped inside, he saw Vaughan sitting at the desk by the window, wand pointed at a small pebble.
As Vaughan murmured an incantation, the pebble began to fade.
Bit by bit.
As if an invisible eraser were rubbing it out of the world.
Soon, nothing remained.
Only then did Vaughan look up.
"What brings you two here?"
"Oh—we just wanted to check on you," Hermione said. Then she stared eagerly at the empty spot.
"Did you make it invisible? What spell was that?"
Making objects invisible wasn't rare in the wizarding world. First-years hadn't learned it yet, but Professor Flitwick had mentioned examples like the Disillusionment Charm.
Vaughan didn't answer.
Instead, he turned to Harry, who was deep in thought.
"Harry," Vaughan asked calmly, "what do you think?"
Harry froze.
Normally, he would have trusted Hermione without question.
But somehow… he felt that the spell Vaughan had just used was terrifying.
That pebble hadn't been hidden.
It had been erased.
He hesitated, then voiced his suspicion.
Hermione's eyes widened.
She had read every first-year book—plus supplementary texts—and had never encountered such magic.
The Vanishing Charm wasn't taught until fifth year.
Before she could ask more, Vaughan sighed softly.
"That's a serious problem, Harry."
Harry: "?"
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