It was deep into the night at Hogwarts.
The castle lay shrouded in silence, and even the faintest sound echoed down its vast, empty corridors.
Professor Severus Snape's robes billowed behind him as he strode purposefully through the darkened halls, the sharp clack of his boots against the stone floor sounding almost accusatory. With his sallow face, hooked nose, and perpetual scowl, he looked every bit the nightmare figure for any student foolish enough to wander about after curfew.
But tonight, he wasn't patrolling.
Snape climbed a winding staircase, passed through a corridor adorned with ancient portraits and suits of armor, and finally reached the eighth-floor tower.
There, a particularly grotesque stone gargoyle blocked his path.
Behind it lay the moving spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster's office.
Snape glared at the creature as though it had just insulted his ancestry. "Password: Cockroach Cluster."
The gargoyle sprang aside with a low grinding noise, and Snape ascended.
The door to the office opened at his touch.
Inside was a large, circular room lined with shelves of curious instrunts and books. Portraits of past headmasters dozed noisily on the walls, though a few stirred grumpily at Snape's entrance and muttered complaints under their breath.
"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore warmly from behind his vast desk, looking up from a letter. "Good evening. Care for a Cockroach Cluster? Or perhaps a Fizzing Whizzbee?"
A floating dish of sweets hovered toward Snape.
He batted it away with disdain. "Just get to the point. I don't have ti for sugar and small talk."
Unfazed, Dumbledore popped a wriggling sweet into his mouth with a soft crunch and beckoned. "Then co have a look."
Snape approached the desk. Spread before Dumbledore was a parchnt letter, signed by none other than Garrick Ollivander.
"I wrote to Mr. Ollivander after the Welcoming Feast," Dumbledore explained. "Had a few questions for him. He was kind enough to respond, although I must say, his sleeping habits are abysmal. I wasn't expecting a reply until morning…"
He continued rambling, but Snape wasn't listening. His eyes scanned the flowing handwriting with surgical precision.
The letter discussed a particular wand in detail:
"…I must admit, it is a wand of trendous power, one that chooses only the most exceptional of wizards. Never did I expect it to be claid by a child. Vaughn Weasley… astonishing. Completely beyond my expectations…"
"…But Albus, as you asked, no wand or wizard is fixed forever. Both change, both grow. A wand and its master shape one another. I cannot offer you certainty, only this advice: tread carefully…"
Your faithful friend,
Garrick Ollivander.
Snape's eyes narrowed at the na: Vaughn Weasley.
He looked at Dumbledore, and a faint smirk crept across his usually impassive face. "Another dark wizard for your blacklist?"
Dumbledore's expression sobered. He was silent for a mont, then replied thoughtfully, "I trust Arthur and Molly."
To Snape, that sounded very much like I trust them, not the boy.
"Hmph," he scoffed, not surprised. "So what now? Another task for ? Alongside watching our beloved Boy Who Lived, I'm also to keep an eye on his wicked classmate?"
"I never said he was wicked, Severus."
Snape gave a low, humorless laugh. "Mmm."
Dumbledore sighed. "The timing isn't right. Our priority must be Harry, guiding him, protecting him, helping him fulfill the prophecy. That doesn't an we ignore everything else, but… Severus, we still don't fully understand what happens when fate is tampered with. The consequences could be better… or worse."
He t Snape's dark eyes, making no attempt at Legilincy, only quiet sincerity.
"Help , Severus. You saw his eyes, didn't you? Harry's. Just like Lily's--"
"Enough!"
The outburst ca sharp and sudden. Snape's voice rose, his nostrils flared. For a mont, it looked like he might lose control of the Occluncy he'd practiced for years.
That na, Lily - was like venom in his veins.
Ten years of tornt, and still it stung.
Silence fell. Then Snape straightened, face once again composed, cold.
"If that's all, I'll return to preparing tomorrow's lesson. I do hope your precious Chosen One isn't outshined by his 'wicked' classmate."
With a dramatic swirl of his robes, he turned and swept out of the room.
"Thank you, Severus. Sleep well…" Dumbledore called gently after him.
The office fell quiet once more.
Dumbledore gazed at Ollivander's letter, running his thin fingers over the parchnt as though trying to etch every word into mory.
After so ti, he spoke again, this ti to one of the portraits.
"Armando… have you ever wondered what might've happened if we'd cared more about Tom, right from the start?"
The sleeping old wizard in the fra turned over and muttered, "Who's to say?"
"Yes… who indeed," Dumbledore murmured.
The Next Morning.
Vaughn Weasley awoke precisely at dawn, well-rested and in high spirits thanks to his impeccable internal clock.
His roommates, clearly not the daring types, had apparently taken the hint. They'd returned briefly the night before to hurriedly pack their things, then relocated to another dormitory without a word.
That left Vaughn with the entire room to himself.
Lovely.
He climbed out of bed, changed into his robes, and brushed his teeth while Fruity, sat on the sink and tried to lick the bubbles off his wand.
By the ti they left the dormitory, it was barely five in the morning. The corridors were empty, predictably so. Hogwarts students weren't exactly renowned for their discipline.
Vaughn andered through the quiet castle, eventually finding a narrow path that led to the edge of the Black Lake.
The early morning air was crisp and clean. The surface of the lake shimred like glass.
"Go on, play," Vaughn told Fruity, giving its soft head a fond pat.
The little creature bounded across the grass near the water, leaping and tumbling in a frenzy of joy.
Vaughn sat cross-legged by the lake, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes on the still, dark surface. He inhaled deeply, letting the cool air fill his lungs.
This spot was peaceful. He'd have to rember it.
If it didn't get too crowded, it could beco his new thinking place.
As the sun began to rise behind the castle, the distant sound of students waking echoed faintly through the grounds.
By the ti Vaughn returned to the Great Hall, it was already filling with early risers.
He imdiately spotted a familiar face, ssy brown hair, bushy and unmistakable, at the Gryffindor table.
Fruity recognized her too and scampered over with a delighted squeak.
The girl blinked, surprised, then clearly recognized the excitable creature from the Hogwarts Express. She turned, searching, and her eyes lit up when she saw Vaughn approaching.
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