Up on the fifth floor, after calming his tearful mother and excited siblings, Vaughn returned to his small bedroom and sat silently in front of the glowing system panel, deep in thought.
This was the first time since awakening his system that a task had appeared.
Interestingly, it didn't seem to care whether he succeeded or failed. There was no punishment, only a reward if he completed it. And that reward had caught his full attention.
Talent Points.
Ever since he'd maxed out his Alchemy talent from the beginner's gift pack, he'd been longing for a new way to upgrade. With just 10 points, he could already brew potions with startling ease. That taste of magical mastery had left him hungry for more.
And then there was the magic point.
It sounded poetic, but in truth, it referred to the total quantity and strength of a wizard's magical power. The larger the scale, the stronger the spellcasting. It also allowed more frequent use of magic before exhaustion set in. But this wasn't as simple as a blue bar in a game. Casting spells also consumed emotion and willpower. Power didn't just come from the wand, but from the wizard's control and familiarity with the magic itself.
Fortunately, there were still two months left before the task's deadline.
Vaughn closed the system interface and shifted his attention back to the thick parchment envelope sitting on his desk. He ran a hand over the crested seal and unfolded the first page again. At the very top, in elegant, formal script, was written:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, Grand Sorcerer, Order of Merlin, First Class)
Dear Mr. Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Vaughn leaned over the desk and penned a quick reply, tying the parchment carefully to the leg of the Weasley family's newest owl.
Poor old Errol.
The poor creature had nearly drowned years ago trying to deliver one of Vaughn's potion orders and had been allowed a quiet retirement in the garden ever since. After Vaughn made a bit of money, he insisted the bird deserved peace in its old age. It had been the first time Arthur and Molly accepted any money from him.
The money from Vaughn had also covered a bit of home renovation. Since then, the Weasleys relied solely on Arthur's salary for daily expenses, not wanting their children to feel burdened or divided over finances.
Thinking of money again, Vaughn flipped to the second page of the letter and scanned the dense list of textbooks and school supplies. He couldn't help but sigh.
"Looks like Ron will be inheriting Bill and Charlie's old gear again. Hopefully he won't burst into tears this time."
But, as it turned out, Ron was holding up better than expected.
When Vaughn stepped out of his room, he saw Ron strutting proudly along the fourth-floor hallway, clutching the crumpled Hogwarts letter as though it were a trophy.
Percy patted him on the back and boomed, "Knew you'd get in, Ron! I always said so!"
Ron raised his chin a little higher.
Vaughn rolled his eyes. Just yesterday, while passing the kitchen, he'd overheard Percy whispering with their mother, wondering if they should forge a Hogwarts letter in case Ron didn't get one.
"For your grand entrance into Hogwarts," Percy declared dramatically, "how about I gift you Scabbers?"
Ron blinked, stunned.
Before he could protest, Percy shoved the old rat into Ron's arms and marched off with an air of noble sacrifice.
As Vaughn leaned against the railing, watching the scene unfold, he heard the telltale sounds of two sets of tiptoeing footsteps behind him.
No surprise there. Only Fred and George could sneak through a house they knew better than their own freckles.
They came to a halt beside him, leaned over the banister, and joined the show.
"I'll bet Percy's been dying to ditch Scabbers," Fred said, eyes gleaming.
"No doubt about it, Fred. That rat's ancient and hideous. Might keel over any day now."
"Poor Ron probably thinks it's a heartfelt gift."
"Tragic. Why are we even related to someone so gullible?"
"Beats me. Maybe he traded all his brain cells to make us smarter?"
The twins giggled uncontrollably, teasing back and forth while Ron fumed below. Clutching Scabbers like a lifeline, he looked moments away from hurling the rat, but in the end, he stormed back to his room with an indignant huff.
Vaughn was still smirking when the twins turned to him with sugar-sweet smiles.
"All right, what do you two want?"
Fred and George exchanged a sheepish glance.
"You tell him, George."
"No, you. You're older."
"Oh, now I'm the older one, am I?"
After a brief round of banter, they realized Vaughn wasn't buying any of it. Grinning sheepishly, they moved to his sides like bodyguards, one kneading his shoulders, the other massaging his arms.
"Dearest Vaughn," Fred began sweetly, "you're heading to Diagon Alley soon, right?"
"Mum said you'd be buying your own stuff," George added quickly. "We always knew you had some money…"
"But we didn't know you had that much money. So we were wondering if, maybe, just maybe, you'd invest a teeny bit more into our materials?"
"Just a tiny sum! Our revolutionary joke shop venture is on the cusp of greatness!"
Vaughn nearly laughed aloud. The sight of the notoriously unruly twins trying to bribe him with massages was hilarious. Still, he understood Molly's hesitation. She didn't want them experimenting recklessly, worried it might lead them down the wrong path.
Even when they'd borrowed small amounts from him in the past, he'd kept the tap tightly controlled. They'd assumed he was just earning pocket change.
They had no idea how much he really had, until today.
Between the book list, supplies, robes, and an optional pet, a new student would easily need over a hundred Galleons. To Fred and George, that was a mountain of gold.
Vaughn leaned back into their massage and hummed thoughtfully. "You know, last time you borrowed ten Sickles, you gave me the exact same speech."
"That was different," George insisted. "Our first joke prototype is almost ready, isn't it Fred?"
"Absolutely, George."
Amused, Vaughn tapped his chin. "Hmm… I think Mum mentioned something about cleaning the garden tomorrow…"
Before he could finish, the twins jumped in eagerly.
"Cleaning the garden? How could we let you do that?" Fred declared.
"Absolutely not. We've got it covered!" George added.
"I was going to make Ron do it, actually."
"This is our show of sincerity!"
"Agreed!"
With the two of them grinning at him from either side, Vaughn finally waved them off. "All right, all right. I'll see how you do tomorrow."
As they cheered and dashed downstairs, Vaughn shook his head fondly. Then he turned and walked to Ron's bedroom, raising a fist to knock.
The door flew open.
Still sulking, Ron stood there with puffed cheeks, looking both angry and scared. "W-what do you want?"
"Ron, come with me to Diagon Alley tomorrow."
Ron hesitated. He looked like he wanted to protest but couldn't quite summon the courage. Eventually, he muttered, "Why me? I've already got everything second-hand."
"Oh?" Vaughn shrugged, feigning disinterest. "I was thinking of giving you your Christmas gift early this year. A new wand, perhaps. But if you don't want to--"
"I'll go!"
"Hmm?"
"I… I'll go. I need to buy more rat food for Scabbers anyway…"
Vaughn's eyes flicked past Ron's shoulder into the messy room. On the desk, the rat in question was happily gnawing on a biscuit.
He grinned. "Speaking of Scabbers, I've been meaning to ask Percy if I could borrow him. He's old and ugly, but perfect for potion testing. What do you think, Ron? Want to donate him to magic?"
Inside the room, Scabbers froze mid-bite.
Ron's eyes went wide. His lips trembled, but no words came out.
Just a minute ago, he would've exploded at such a request. He might've even mustered the courage to throw Vaughn out of the room. But now?
A new wand… that was hard to ignore.
Fortunately, Vaughn didn't let the poor boy stew for too long. Seeing Scabbers starting to inch away nervously, Vaughn patted Ron's shoulder with a smirk.
"Kidding. One drop of potion would kill a rat that size in seconds."
Scabbers began trembling violently.
"Anyway, don't sleep in tomorrow. I'm counting on you."
Vaughn turned and climbed the stairs.
Back in the room, Ron let out a long breath and rushed to scoop up the shaking rat.
"It's okay, Scabbers, don't worry. He was just messing with us…"
At the top of the stairs, around the corner, Vaughn watched the closed door for a moment, then chuckled coldly.
Let the little rat live, for now.