It was evening.
Vaughn Weasley, still absorbed in experimenting with spells, received a letter.
It was from his mother.
Inside the envelope was only a single piece of parchment, with one short sentence written in Molly Weasley's unmistakable handwriting:
"Throw me into the fireplace."
Of course, Molly hadn't lost her mind. She wasn't asking her son to cremate her.
The parchment itself was a magical alchemical communication item, one that allowed contact through the Floo Network.
The Weasley family, famously frugal, almost never used such extravagant methods. For them to resort to a direct Floo call meant that the fallout from the Wolfsbane Potion incident had escalated far beyond what ordinary letters could handle.
Unfortunately, the small fireplace in the boys' dormitory wasn't connected to the Floo Network.
At Hogwarts, only the large fireplaces in each House common room and the professors' offices were authorized for such use.
Vaughn didn't even consider the Slytherin common room.
Instead, he went straight to Professor Snape's office.
The Potions Master stood among rows of meticulously arranged ingredients, dressed in his customary funereal black. He narrowed his eyes when Vaughn entered and drawled coldly:
"Ah… Vaughn Weasley. The newly crowned Potions prodigy. I'm surprised you aren't outside basking in the admiration of your little fan club. To what do I owe the honor of your presence in my humble dungeon?"
Vaughn glanced around. He knew Snape had been expecting him.
Unfortunately, not for brewing.
He produced the parchment and said sincerely,
"Professor, I'd like to borrow your fireplace."
Snape froze.
Dark clouds practically gathered above his head.
With a long, icy sigh, he turned on his heel and stormed out, robes billowing behind him.
Feeling charitable—or perhaps mischievous—Vaughn called after him:
"Oh, and Professor—just so you know, I'm focusing on Charms lately. No need to wait up for me!"
Snape staggered.
Then—
BANG!
The office door slammed shut.
Someone was going to suffer tonight.
Vaughn sighed for the unfortunate victim, dragged Snape's favorite chair over to the fireplace, sat down comfortably, and tossed the enchanted parchment into the flames.
The fire flared instantly, magic surging.
Moments later, three figures appeared in the flames.
"Vaughn—sweetheart!" Molly's voice shrieked.
Vaughn rubbed his forehead.
This was exactly why he hadn't used the common room.
"Mum, Dad, Ginny—are you all home? How's Charlie doing in Romania?"
He cut in quickly, before Molly could spiral.
As expected, she seized the topic immediately.
"We just got back, dear. Your father and I are so sorry we couldn't be there with you. When we read the Daily Prophet—Merlin help me!—what you must have gone through! Those horrible Ministry people interrogating a child—"
Molly clutched her chest, teetering on the edge of a dramatic collapse.
Arthur Weasley hurriedly patted her back.
"Mum, the papers exaggerated everything," Vaughn said helplessly. "Besides, Dumbledore was with me the whole time. And Uncle Oliver."
That set her off completely.
"Don't even mention them!" she snapped. "How could Dumbledore allow a child to face the Ministry? And Oliver—bragging to the entire family about you defeating Selwyn! What kind of uncle does that?! He'd better pray I don't see him next time!"
(For the record, Molly wasn't actually Oliver's sister. She only had two brothers.)
Arthur zoned out halfway through the rant, until Ginny suddenly jumped up.
"Mum! Let me talk to Vaughn!"
Molly finally paused—barely.
She softened slightly and said firmly,
"Vaughn, your kindness and principles make me proud. I read the articles. Helping those werewolves was the right thing to do. Don't let the critics shake you. Your father and I will always support you."
"…Thank you, Mum."
Vaughn hesitated, then said,
"But I might've caused trouble for Dad. I tricked Cornelius Fudge with Dumbledore, and he's still Dad's boss."
Arthur waved it off.
"I've had enough of that pompous toad. Worst case, I resign. Besides—we're a pure-blood family."
In the wizarding world, that mattered more than outsiders realized.
Even families that despised each other—like the Weasleys and Malfoys—were still tangled together by blood.
Vaughn relaxed.
They talked a bit longer, warmth filling the conversation.
They didn't care about fame or achievements—only that he was safe.
Ginny, nearly in tears, finally blurted out:
"When are you coming home?"
"Hmm… ten weeks or so."
That was enough to brighten her instantly.
She ran off and returned with a ball of fluff.
"I got your Christmas present! What should I name it?"
A Pygmy Puff poked its tongue out sleepily.
They laughed, chatted about names, and before long the magic sustaining the call began to fade.
After heartfelt goodbyes, the flames died down.
Vaughn stepped out—
And nearly ran into an old man in a pink dressing gown, smiling cheerfully.
"Albus," Vaughn said flatly, "what would the students think if they knew their beloved Headmaster enjoyed spying on private conversations?"
"They would understand," Albus Dumbledore said brightly.
"Careful. One day that child might hex you."
"Totally worth it."
"…Why didn't I notice this sooner?"
"When an old man abandons his dignity, child, you cannot win."
"…Fine. Where are we going?"
They walked under a Disillusionment Charm.
"The Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said softly. "Harry is becoming obsessed."
Vaughn sighed.
"Let me guess—you want me to warn him."
"Precisely."
Before they could move, voices echoed.
"Ron, you stepped on my foot again."
"…Sorry."
Vaughn blinked.
"Ron?"
Inside the classroom, Ron Weasley rushed to the mirror.
"I see… photographers… I invented a potion… Merlin, Harry! I got the Order of Merlin, First Class!"
Vaughn and Dumbledore exchanged looks.
"…He's copying you," Dumbledore murmured.
"You're senile."
Harry suddenly dragged Ron away.
"This isn't real!"
Harry slumped to the floor.
"I've been wasting time on illusions. Vaughn is changing the world. I want to do something real."
Ron thought for a moment.
"…So we're finishing our homework?"
They burst out laughing.
Then came slow applause.
Dumbledore stepped forward, eyes misty.
"So moving!"
Harry and Ron froze.
"How long were you there?!"
"The whole time," Vaughn said dryly.
"Order of Merlin, First Class."
Ron screamed and fled.
Dumbledore laughed until he cried.
"This is how you train your Chosen One?" Vaughn muttered.
"Not with you as his example," Dumbledore replied softly.
With a wave of his wand, the Mirror of Erised vanished.
"Explore Memory Magic next," Dumbledore said quietly.
"The answer you seek… you already know."
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