He didn't go inside. Ravenclaw's gender ratio was notoriously imbalanced—far too many girls. Even as Headmaster, it would be inappropriate for him to enter.
Instead, he knocked gently on the door. Before long, it opened from within, and Vaughn, fragrant as ever, stepped out of the Ravenclaw tower with a cheerful expression, greeting him warmly:
"When did you get back?"
He looked for all the world like he was the master of the castle.
Dumbledore was slightly annoyed. "My dear, unless I've misremembered, you're a Slytherin. So why do you always seem to end up in Ravenclaw?"
"Don't take it so seriously!" Vaughn grinned, completely unfazed. "There's no school rule banning students from visiting other Houses, is there?"
"Besides, I've always thought dividing students by House was a flawed system. Slapping labels on them only undermines unity and harmony on campus. Albus, you should be thanking me—I'm helping the school resolve potential risks!"
"…You're shameless."
"Thanks, you too," Vaughn replied with a bright smile.
Still, he didn't head back into Ravenclaw. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't have come unless there was something important.
They strolled along the quiet corridor, their shadows stretching long beneath the flickering magical flames above.
Neither spoke for a time. It was as if both were simply enjoying the rare tranquility of the night.
At last, Dumbledore said, "I passed on your request to Nicolas."
"Oh? What did he say?"
"In principle, Nicolas also doesn't want to take all his knowledge with him to the grave. He's willing to teach you. But before officially accepting you as a student, he wants to conduct an evaluation."
"The exact nature of the test hasn't been decided yet. But if I had to guess, Nicolas is likely to test your logic and imagination."
"I also shared with him your theory of the Information Universe, the one you told me when you first entered the Aether. He's very intrigued by your ideas... You two are walking completely opposite paths. He may want to verify your hypothesis."
Early Morning
Having not slept all night, Vaughn sat on the Slytherin common room couch, troubled by the message Dumbledore had delivered.
He didn't mind being evaluated by Nicolas Flamel.
After all, the knowledge was Flamel's to give. He had every right to set his own conditions. Vaughn just hadn't expected the challenge to be so... monumental.
The Information Universe—a theory he developed by blending Muggle scientific concepts with alchemy—was a brand new way of understanding the world and the cosmos.
But in the end, it was still just an idea—a brainstorm, really.
Vaughn was still a novice in alchemy. He had nowhere near the capacity to bridge two vastly different systems of knowledge and turn a thought experiment into a concrete theory.
Let alone produce real results based on that theory.
Sigh... I think he's just messing with me. Right, Guo Guo Cha?
The oversized cat lying beside him, sprawled out on its back and snoring softly, cracked open an eye.
Sensing his master's frustration, it burrowed its large head into Vaughn's chest and rubbed against him.
"Meow~"
"If I have to give up, I suppose I could... but it would be such a waste. If Flamel dies, the legacy of the Golden Soul will be lost. The current crop of alchemists? Useless. They can't even make a Time-Turner, let alone a Philosopher's Stone."
"Meow?"
"No, I wasn't badmouthing our dear Headmaster. What kind of scoundrel do you take me for?"
"Meow~"
"Don't worry, we still have time. Dumbledore said Flamel had originally stopped taking the Elixir of Life, but he's changed his mind."
"Meow meow?"
"Yes. He doesn't want to die anymore. Maybe he also realizes his test isn't exactly realistic, so he's decided to wait another year. That's good news. It means I have time."
Vaughn was reassuring both his overly concerned cat—and himself.
At least he had a year. At least he didn't have to cram everything into this summer. He could afford to relax a little.
Yes, to Vaughn, this final three-week sprint before end-of-term exams was actually a time to unwind.
He had long since finished his written review. As for practicals? Not even a question. He had the luxury of waiting for the exams to arrive.
But for other students, each day felt like hell.
Of course, "relaxing" didn't mean doing absolutely nothing. Vaughn waited in the common room a while longer and soon saw several older students shuffle in, still bleary-eyed, unwashed, and clutching their textbooks.
Among them was Phil Travers.
This seventh-year Slytherin, who had openly pledged allegiance to Vaughn during the Quidditch victory banquet two weeks ago, was surprised to see him. He quickly tried to pull himself together and greeted respectfully, "Good morning, Mr. Weasley."
"Good morning, Travers. Studying going well?"
"Smoothly. Please rest assured, I'll pass my NEWTs without a hitch." Phil stifled a yawn, trying his best to look proper.
But with his wrinkled robes hastily thrown on, massive textbooks tucked under his arms, and his sleepy expression... he wasn't exactly convincing.
Vaughn said nothing, just nodded and greeted the others. Then he reminded them, "I've submitted your names to WAC. There'll be a recruitment fair at the end of the month here at school—make sure to help promote it."
The group exchanged glances. Phil, the quickest on the uptake, realized WAC's external recruitment might not be going smoothly. He quickly responded, "Understood, Mr. Weasley!"
"Appreciate it," Vaughn said casually.
Phil Travers instantly lit up as if injected with adrenaline.
And just like that, the recruitment fair news spread across Hogwarts within half a day.
Afternoon
Harry and Ron heard about it while studying in the library.
"I heard several Slytherin graduates are going to work for WAC," Seamus Finnigan said with a touch of unease. "Aren't they afraid of werewolves?"
His father was a Muggle, but his mother was a witch, and he'd grown up hearing terrifying stories about werewolves.
His reaction made Harry frown.
But before he could speak, Ron jumped in. "What's wrong with werewolves? With Vaughn's Wolfsbane Potion, they don't lose control during full moons anymore. I don't get what everyone's so afraid of."
Harry stared at Ron in surprise.
Seamus widened his eyes too. "Merlin, are you defending Vaughn? I thought you hated him the most!"
His expression was as if he were seeing a troll sitting calmly beside him.
Ron puffed out his cheeks. "I… I'm just stating facts. This has nothing to do with Vaughn."
Seamus remained unconvinced. "Of course I'm scared! It's normal to be scared. If one of those WAC werewolves loses control and bites you, your whole life is ruined!"
What Seamus said was basically the prevailing public opinion in the magical world.
Sure, everyone knew the potion worked—but people are naturally risk-averse. The brutal reputation of lycanthropy, built over centuries, wasn't something easily reversed overnight.
No matter how angry Ron was, there was nothing he could do.
And he didn't have the energy to worry about it for long.
As time marched on, the recruitment fair news gradually faded, replaced by a growing anxiety over the approaching exams.
No one wanted to be the class clown who flunked and had to repeat a year.
Everyone threw themselves into desperate revision. The pressure mounted by the day, and pre-exam anxiety began to spread like wildfire.
On Friday morning, Harry and Ron were jolted awake by Neville's panicked screaming—he clutched a glowing red Remembrall, trying in vain to recall what he'd forgotten.
That night, Dean Thomas burst into tears, wailing that he wanted to return to the Muggle world, enroll in a normal school, and never come back to Hogwarts.
Harry and Ron barely managed to drag him to the hospital wing...
Only to find it packed to the brim—with fifth- and seventh-year students!
Exams were always brutal for those two year groups, and in the hospital wing, they even spotted Oliver Wood.
The poor guy sat dazed in a corner bed, totally unresponsive no matter how loudly Harry and Ron called him.
Yet Madam Pomfrey wasn't worried. "Give him a few days," she said calmly. "He'll be fine."
"He doesn't look fine."
"Oh, he's just faking insanity. But I imagine he'll soon realize he can't escape the OWLs. He'll be back to revision in no time."
And sure enough, two days later, Harry and Ron saw Oliver again—back in the Gryffindor common room, hunched over a massive Hogwarts: A History like any other fifth-year.
Harry and Ron were relieved to see him back, but Oliver just frowned. "What are you talking about? I was never in the hospital wing."
The other fifth-years chimed in:
"That's right! Wood's been with us the whole time!"
"What nonsense. You two must be going crazy from studying. Tough guys like us never dodge exams!"
"Yep. Studying makes us happy!"
It was the first time Harry and Ron felt real fear about next year. If the pressure of a regular year-end exam was already this intense... how terrifying must the OWLs be, to turn hardened fifth-years into lunatics?
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