Chapter 91: The Boy Who Lived’s Trial
Outside Hogwarts Castle, on the path leading to Hagrid’s Hut.
The path of small flagstones was slick with rain, and the four of them walked carefully, a slightly chilly wind whipping rain around them. Harry and Ron, walking ahead with their heads down, kept sneezing, their robes soaked through in no time.
But the two people and one cat following behind them, protected by a Waterproofing Spell, were still in the mood to chat.
“Vaughn, when did you get back?”
“Just got back, was about to head back to Slytherin to rest for a bit, and then Guo Guo Cha found me.”
Hearing his master call his name, Guo Guo Cha, who had been frolicking around, hopped over and rubbed against Vaughn’s legs repeatedly.
Hermione asked expectantly, “Is everything resolved?”
Vaughn nodded, “More or less. The next steps are quite involved. The Wizengamot and the werewolves need to send letters to the International Confederation of Wizards, and the three parties will arrange a time to discuss the organizational structure of the joint committee. This doesn’t require my further involvement, so I’ll be at the school until the end of the term.”
The young witch immediately broke into a sweet smile.
She looked at the two companions trudging ahead, quietly took Vaughn’s hand, and her gentle swaying motion concealed her inner delight.
“Achoo!”
Harry sneezed again. He couldn’t help but tug at his robe; the soaked fabric had become incredibly heavy and had completely lost its ability to ward off the cold.
The wind blowing on it felt like it could chill you to the bone.
He subtly glanced at Ron beside him. Ron wasn’t faring any better. He clutched his robe with both hands, shivering in the cold wind. His face was as pale as Malfoy’s, his freckles appearing almost transparent.
“Ron, maybe we should wait for your brother… uh, I mean, wait for Vaughn.”
Harry hinted.
But Ron clearly didn’t want to admit defeat.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have pulled Harry ahead after seeing Vaughn more than ten minutes ago.
Ron snorted, “Don’t expect him to cast a Waterproofing Spell for you, Harry. He loves seeing others in a mess. I know for a fact that we’ll end up getting soaked regardless if we wait for him.”
No, he just wants to see *you* in a mess…
Harry thought to himself, not daring to voice this thought aloud, fearing that Ron’s fragile self-esteem might shatter.
From their past experiences practicing Legilimency together, Harry had long since discovered…
Vaughn might have a bit of a mischievous streak, but he wouldn’t generally do anything to strangers.
His “teasing” was often more like a lightly urging joke with those he was familiar with—like now.
In reality, the Waterproofing Spell was a spell first-years could learn. If the two of them had studied harder in class and spent more time flipping through books, they wouldn’t be foolishly standing in the wind and rain.
At least Harry felt that being teased a little was no big deal. He hadn’t had the chance to enjoy such a feeling his entire life!
He had grown up with only loneliness.
Oh, his cousin Dudley’s bullying didn’t count!
Ron was unaware of Harry’s thoughts, or he would have definitely thought Harry was crazy. He grumbled about Vaughn’s “care” for him throughout their lives, trying to prove how wise it was to have rushed ahead with Harry, at least avoiding humiliation.
If his teeth hadn’t been chattering when he spoke, it would have been even more convincing.
Fortunately, Hagrid’s Hut wasn’t far. After crossing another stretch of hills, the small cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest came into view. White smoke curled from its chimney, and Fang was squatting by the door, barking from a distance.
Before long, Hagrid, wearing an apron, arrived with two umbrellas and chided them,
“You two little fools, you don’t know the Waterproofing Spell, so why didn’t you bring umbrellas?”
Harry and Ron were struck dumb.
Right…
The two, feeling foolish, dejectedly huddled under Hagrid’s umbrella.
Hagrid, ever jovial, didn’t pay them much mind. He spotted Vaughn with Hermione in the distance and waited for them to approach before warmly embracing Vaughn, saying,
“You did brilliantly, my boy! The Werewolf Affairs Committee—that’s the trendiest phrase in the papers this year. No one ever thought of it before. I mean, who would care about those poor werewolves… or those poor half-breeds of magical creatures?”
He said this, wiping his eyes emotionally, perhaps thinking of his own origins.
The long history of the Wizarding World held various flaws. What Hagrid was referring to was actually the misuse of magic leading to the continuous emergence of new species, which, in turn, were not recognized within the Wizarding World, relegating them to forgotten fringe groups.
Someone like Hagrid, a half-giant, was considered quite fortunate to remain at Hogwarts, at least having Dumbledore willing to take him in.
However, his sentimentality lasted only a moment. He quickly and enthusiastically beckoned them, “Come in quickly, children. I’ve already brewed some tea, the kind Vaughn gave me before. It smells absolutely delicious!”
Whether the tea smelled good or not was another matter. As the four followed Hagrid into his hut, they discovered something strange.
The small hut was completely sealed off, with all the windows covered. After ushering them inside, Hagrid immediately shut the door and even stuffed rags into the cracks.
The fireplace blazed fiercely. Even on such a chilly, gloomy day, the overwhelming heat that washed over them was almost suffocating.
Harry, who had wanted to ask about things immediately, gasped for air, unable to speak.
Ron, whose face had been pale just moments before, now unbuttoned his collar due to the heat. “Merlin’s beard, Hagrid, what are you up to? Did you really hatch a fire dragon?”
*Clatter!*
Hagrid, who had just brought in some pastries, dropped the plate. He nervously wiped his forehead and exclaimed, “Heavens, how did you know? Who else knows?”
“No one else knows, Hagrid. Hermione found your library book slip, and we guessed.”
Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief and was about to say something when he saw Vaughn, who had been mostly silent, walk over to the fireplace and poke at the logs with the fire tongs.
The other three also noticed. Ron, as if suddenly suffering amnesia, completely forgetting that he had been criticizing his brother just minutes earlier, excitedly crowded around Vaughn. Harry leaned on his shoulder, and Hermione, from across the table, peered over.
As Vaughn stirred the logs, a dark, watermelon-sized egg was revealed beneath the burning wood.
Ron held his breath, his eyes, reflecting the firelight, shining. “Is… is this a dragon egg?”
“Yes, isn’t it beautiful?” Hagrid, who still couldn’t get enough of looking at it after days, said dreamily, “It’s a perfect creature, isn’t it?”
Vaughn, squatting to examine the dragon egg closely, cast a spell on his eyes. In his vision, the firelight gradually dimmed, while the life essence emanating from the dragon egg became incredibly brilliant.
He nodded, “Yes, it is a beautiful creature.”
A long time ago, perhaps a few years after his transmigration, Vaughn, after diligently learning English, began to pore over the limited collection of books in his home.
Most were history books of the Wizarding World, and some were ancestral notes sequentially copied by Molly and Arthur from the Prewett and Weasley families before and after their marriage.
Vaughn wanted to search for the essence of magic, and to do so, he first had to trace its origin and birth.
Before the Wizard’s Council （ and the Ministry of Magic’s predecessor, which dissolved in 1707 ）, the Wizarding World had no unified governing body. Therefore, tracing the history of magic often relied on glimpsing fragments through previous generations’ notes.
After enrolling at Hogwarts, at least half of Vaughn’s time spent in the library was dedicated to poring over these notes, which other students considered meaningless.
Time was the most powerful Obliviation spell; everything would eventually be buried by the dust of time. He didn’t expect to find the answers he sought in books.
In the Wizarding World, there were many who studied the origin of magic. However, they usually linked magic with civilization, and indeed, most people believed magic either originated from Egypt or was even older, from the East.
This was the mainstream view.
Vaughn differed from them. He believed that the initial form of magic had never left people’s sight nor been hidden by time—Magical Creatures!
In his opinion, everything in the world began with nature, and magic was no exception.
Perhaps the very first wizards in ancient times learned magic from magical creatures. Given that the Wizarding World still had Dragon Pox, a disease that was difficult to discuss and had a long history, he had reason to suspect that the magical bloodline that pure-blood families prided themselves on and desperately tried to maintain might also have a rather peculiar origin…
The reason for pursuing the origin and essence of magic was that Vaughn had always been puzzled by one thing—through the System, he already knew that an ordinary adult wizard had about 500 points of Magic Power Scale, which was roughly the average in the Wizarding World. And his current magic power was approaching this limit.
But even though he was close to the average, he still felt a sense of powerlessness when facing Dumbledore.
When facing Dumbledore, Vaughn felt like he was facing a vast ocean, while he himself was merely a babbling brook, with no hope of catching up in his lifetime solely through personal growth.
He had felt a similar sensation when facing Voldemort!
This was Vaughn’s greatest puzzle. They were both wizards, and even if there were gaps in talent and bloodline, why was the difference so immense?
The gap made it seem as if Dumbledore and Voldemort were not even the same species as other wizards!
They gave Vaughn the impression that they had become part of magic, part of mystery. They were no longer wizards, but some kind of magical creatures, or rather, mythical beings!
Beside the fireplace, Vaughn’s eyes shimmered with a faint, magical glow as he looked at the dragon egg’s dazzling life essence in his vision.
That light was so rich and intense, far surpassing human life force. Unlike the pure white of humans, the dragon egg’s life essence had a fiery hue.
In his view, if there was anything in the world that came closer to the life level of Old Dumbledore and Voldemort, it had to be magical creatures.
They were both magical creatures, the only difference being that magical creatures were born from nature, and nature was imperfect.
A few months ago, when Vaughn first realized the gap between himself and Dumbledore, he wanted to study magical creatures, attempting to understand why Old Dumbledore was so powerful by delving into the origin and essence of magic.
Or, how could he “evolve” into someone like that?
Of course, Vaughn knew that this was bound to be a monumental undertaking and not something to rush. Therefore, he had primarily focused his energy on improving his spells and reputation.
However, if a ready-made subject presented itself, he wouldn’t pass it up.
While he was observing, Harry and Ron had already started chatting with Hagrid.
“Hagrid, how did you get it? I mean, there are almost no truly wild fire dragons now; they all live in protected areas. Back in the 17th century, to prevent Muggles from finding out about fire dragons, the Wizarding World confined all fire dragons to their habitats.”
Ron asked curiously.
Before Hagrid could answer, Hermione chimed in, “This is from the International Confederation of Wizards’ Secrecy Statute 《》. In 1692, the entire Wizarding World collectively decided to hide the existence of the Wizarding World from Muggles. The first thing to be regulated was magical creatures. To this end, the International Confederation even invited intelligent magical creatures like mermaids, centaurs, and goblins to form a delegation and sign the Secrecy Statute.”
Harry, who was clueless about “common knowledge” and could only listen blankly, finally heard a familiar phrase and happily exclaimed, “I know about this Secrecy Statute! I saw it in the newspaper recently. Some wizards used it to attack Vaughn and the werewolves, saying that the werewolves reintegrating into Muggle society could potentially lead to violations of the Secrecy Statute.”
Hagrid, who was about to answer Ron, was immediately drawn back. He stroked his beard. “Oh, that’s a very serious issue. The Secrecy Statute cannot be violated, or the International Confederation of Wizards will impose disciplinary action on all of England, and even Dumbledore won’t be able to stop it.”
He looked at Vaughn. “How did you resolve it in the end?”
Vaughn, while thinking, casually replied, “It wasn’t resolved. Werewolves need jobs, and only Muggle society has the scale to support them.”
Hagrid was speechless.
He didn’t quite understand what “scale” meant and mumbled a few words like “very good” and “insightful” before returning to Ron’s previous question, his expression immediately becoming animated:
“How did I get this dragon egg? Ron, you’ll never guess!”
Without waiting for Ron to ask, he happily blurted it out, “It’s my spoils of war, Ron! A Greek guy made a bet with me—though I was just trying to have a drink that day—and he lost. He didn’t have anything valuable on him, so he gave me this dragon egg.”
Hagrid gazed at the dragon egg in the fire, his heart filled with elation. “He was a man of his word. I dare say he must have put a lot of effort into obtaining this thing.”
Ron’s mouth watered with envy. “Yeah, nobody can raise a fire dragon anymore, Hagrid. Did you find out what breed it is?”
“Of course.”
Hagrid pulled out a book he had borrowed from the library. “It says here, judging by the pattern on the eggshell, it should be a Norwegian Ridgeback—very rare, with an extremely small population.”
This time, Ron was truly drooling.
In his eyes, rare equals expensive equals a large sum of Gold Galleons equals financial freedom!
The entire evening, until they returned to the castle, Ron was still preoccupied with Hagrid’s good fortune.
“Why can’t I meet a Greek guy who loses a dragon egg to me?”
Lying in bed before sleep that night, Ron was still muttering this phrase, with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe that Greek guy intentionally lost to Hagrid. He was probably worried about what to do with the dragon egg. It’s indeed rare, but it’s also a big crime, right, Harry?”
After waiting for a moment and not receiving Harry’s reply, Ron looked up at the bed next to him.
Harry was lying in bed, staring blankly at the canopy’s hanging tassels.
“What’s wrong, Harry?”
“…I’m thinking about what Hagrid said.”
Ron paused, then realized. “Snape?”
Harry nodded.
He certainly hadn’t forgotten the main reason for his visit to Hagrid. While everyone was focused on the dragon egg that evening, he had also found an opportunity to ask Hagrid.
The answer surprised him a little.
“Harry, you already know that when I picked you up, I was going to Gringotts to get the Philosopher’s Stone, right? It was truly frightening. If Dumbledore hadn’t instructed me to pick you up that day, it might have been stolen by that intruder.”
“So, from then on, Dumbledore kept it safe at Hogwarts. Dumbledore set up powerful magical protections, and every professor, including myself, was involved. I provided Fluffy, responsible for guarding the entrance… Yes, Harry, Snape was also involved.”
“I don’t know the specifics of his arrangements, but I heard Dumbledore say that Snape was responsible for the most important part. If Snape wanted to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, he had the opportunity long ago and didn’t need to wait until now.”
Harry recounted Hagrid’s words to Ron again.
Ron scratched his head. “Uh, that sounds quite reasonable.”
This was precisely what frustrated Harry. He had considered the magical protections; the trapdoor guarded by Fluffy was a classic design hint.
However, he had originally thought Dumbledore set up the protections, and Snape wasn’t privy to the specifics. Instead, Quirrell was likely deeply involved, which was why he had seen Snape threatening Quirrell that day.
But now, it seemed the situation was not as he had thought.
He… seemed to have misunderstood Snape all along.
This fact was difficult for Harry to accept, and it even made him feel that the entire incident was somewhat off.
If Harry had gained anything from his months of studying with Vaughn, besides Legilimency, it was that he had learned to think first and use his brain before acting.
There was no other way. Spending time with someone as intelligent as Vaughn, if he didn’t develop a sharper mind, he would have long ago become as resentful as Ron.
Now, thinking back carefully, Harry increasingly felt that everything was too coincidental.
Why was it precisely on the day he was picked up that Dumbledore instructed Hagrid to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone?
Why did the intruder at Gringotts make their move on that particular day?
Dumbledore hid the Philosopher’s Stone at Hogwarts, so why make a grand spectacle of it by creating a bunch of magical protections?
In fact, Harry thought that if Dumbledore had quietly hidden the Philosopher’s Stone in the Headmaster’s Office or in his pocket, it would have been much safer.
Ron had already fallen asleep, snoring loudly.
But Harry, with too many unanswered questions swirling in his mind, tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Just as the Savior student was once again suffering from insomnia, on the Eighth Floor, in the Headmaster’s Office.
As Dumbledore cast a spell, all the portraits fell into a deep slumber.
He and Vaughn then approached the Pensieve and watched the memories from Hagrid’s Hut that night.
The memory mist, like ink dropped into water, swirled and spread around the two of them.
Vaughn looked at his own memory, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and the dragon egg, his expression calm. “Quirrell has already gotten the method of passing Fluffy from Hagrid… You really went through with it, Albus. To ensure Hagrid wouldn’t let anything slip, you even cast a Confundus Charm on him.”
“Oh—you noticed?”
Vaughn smirked, “I noticed when I met him. Poor fellow, he still hasn’t realized that the person he trusts most would cast a spell on him.”
“Your progress in Memory Magic far exceeds my expectations, Vaughn.”
Dumbledore praised, then sighed, “Hagrid is a good boy, simple-minded. It’s my fault for keeping him at Hogwarts all this time, preventing him from understanding overly complex realities… Although Quirinus’s mind has become somewhat muddled, he still possesses basic discernment. To make him believe the Philosopher’s Stone wasn’t a trap, I had to make everything seem as reasonable as possible.”
“Aren’t you afraid Tom will find out? He’s a master of Memory Magic like you.”
Dumbledore winked playfully. “I checked beforehand; Tom is still in slumber. That’s thanks to you, Vaughn. Without unicorn blood, he has to hibernate frequently to avoid draining Quirinus to death.”
He said this with a hint of sadness in his expression.
Quirinus was originally a student he had high hopes for. In his original plan, he intended to let Quirinus serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for a year, after which he would arrange for the other party to join the Ministry of Magic or the International Confederation of Wizards.
Alas, things are unpredictable.
Dumbledore couldn’t say for sure whether the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post by Voldemort, or the disturbance caused by Voldemort and Harry’s destiny, was responsible for all this.
But regardless of which it was, he could not escape his responsibility.
If, last year, he hadn’t found Quirinus, all of this…
As if sensing his guilt, Vaughn couldn’t help but make another pointed remark: “Albus, have you noticed that you’re always wary of Slytherin, but the most problems actually arise from another House?”
Dumbledore: “?”
Vaughn counted on his fingers, “Quirinus Quirrell, Ravenclaw; Rita Skeeter, Ravenclaw.”
Dumbledore’s beard twitched, and he stubbornly retorted, “It’s just a coincidence!”
Vaughn smiled. He had another one he hadn’t mentioned yet. He wanted to ask Old Dumbledore next year if Gilderoy Lockhart arrived at Hogwarts, whether it was still a coincidence.
The two continued to watch in the memory for a while longer. Perhaps to change the subject, Dumbledore highly praised Vaughn’s memory manipulation, believing that the memory constructs he created were exceptionally clear and vivid, capable of passing for the real thing.
Especially Miss Granger, every frown and smile was lifelike and captivating.
Vaughn rolled his eyes, too lazy to engage with his teasing, and only asked him as they were leaving, “When do you plan to guide Quirrell to bypass the other protections?”
Dumbledore said with a smile, “I was just about to discuss that with you. What do you think of those magical protections?”
Vaughn didn’t answer, but his expression was enough to convey his thoughts—they were like a child’s game of make-believe.
“Would you like to make things a bit more difficult for Quirinus and Tom?”
“Hmm?”
