"Quidditch ended today, and the boy pitched a fit about going to London. I simply couldn't refuse—well, you know me, Minerva, I'm far too soft-hearted."
Vaughn stared at Dumbledore wordlessly.
This shameless old fraud—
Using him as an excuse behind his back?!
McGonagall actually looked as though she believed it; hesitation softened her stern features. Vaughn quickly coughed loudly and strode forward.
Dumbledore didn't miss a beat. He beamed as if nothing were amiss. "Ah, Vaughn! We were just talking about you. Minerva, don't trouble yourself about school matters for the next day or two. I've already asked Vaughn to brief Severus—he'll take over your duties temporarily."
"Vaughn, dear boy, what did Severus say?"
Vaughn smiled thinly. "Professor Snape was… not pleased. He said he's far more interested in teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Of course, he wouldn't mind the Headmaster's office either. He's very dissatisfied with the current Headmaster—claims the man lies constantly and even manipulates children for his convenience."
McGonagall shot Vaughn a sharp glare for such blasphemous words—then turned her suspicious gaze toward Dumbledore.
Unfortunately, Dumbledore's face—hardened by over a century of shamelessness—did not so much as twitch. Calm as still water, he steered the topic away with infuriating ease.
"Well then! What are we waiting for? Off we go! If we hurry, we'll have time to browse a Muggle night market. There are several stalls with delightful sweets—I highly recommend them…"
As he spoke, Fawkes swooped down, landing neatly on his shoulder.
The phoenix fixed its gaze straight ahead, valiantly avoiding eye contact with Vaughn. But Vaughn's single sidelong glance still made its feathers prickle uncomfortably. And when McGonagall finally huffed, muttering about why they couldn't simply use Floo Powder, and linked arms with Dumbledore—
Fawkes spread his blazing wings.
A burst of white-hot flames—
And the three of them vanished with a crack.
Silence reclaimed the eighth-floor corridor.
After about ten minutes, the air rippled. Fawkes squeezed back into existence, panting, exhausted.
He rested a moment, then lifted his head and looked around. Now that the great villain—Vaughn Weasley—was finally away from Hogwarts, the air smelled sweeter, freer.
But that was merely an illusion—
A temporary reprieve.
He had not escaped the villain's clutches.
Fawkes did not return to the Headmaster's office. Instead, he paused to groom his feathers. After a while, a soft meow echoed down the corridor.
He turned.
A massive cat rounded the corner—amber slit-pupiled eyes gleaming in the dim corridors.
Tch. The villain's minion.
Truly, Hogwarts had fallen—morals corrupted, humanity twisted. Demons walked proudly in daylight. Even Dumbledore had been fooled, consorting with that monster Vaughn like an accomplice.
Fawkes felt a pang of sorrow and shed a single shimmering tear.
The tabby—Guo Guo Tea—immediately perked up. With the tiny pouch hanging from its neck (usually filled with snacks, though not tonight), it fumbled it open and took out a tiny glass vial swirling with mist.
Very carefully, the cat held the vial beneath Fawkes's eye and caught the teardrop.
Fawkes didn't budge the entire time, fully immersed in his tragic self-pity.
Only when Guo Guo Tea finished did Fawkes conveniently finish reminiscing his past joys and sorrows. He flapped his wings, preparing to leave—
Only to be blocked.
"Meow!"
Hmm?
Fawkes stiffened, staring sharply as the cat dug out a different bottle. This one was tiny— barely two-thirds of an inch long—yet exquisitely crafted, shimmering like molten gold.
Fawkes's eyes widened.
Felix Felicis.
One of the rarest, most difficult potions in existence. And to a phoenix—who relished magical herbs and elixirs—it was an unparalleled delicacy.
Guo Guo Tea placed the bottle on the floor and gently nudged it toward the phoenix.
"Gah?"
The croak was ugly, but its meaning was clear:
For me?
The cat nodded vigorously. "Meow-meow!"
Payment?
Suddenly, the entire world shone brighter.
Vaughn Weasley, a villain?
Who said that?
Utter slander!
He was a glittering, warm-hearted patron—a true goldmine of generosity!
Fawkes's joy rippled through every feather. A few loose plumes drifted down. Guo Guo Tea immediately swept them into its pouch, but Fawkes no longer cared.
A few feathers? A tear?
Take them all!
Pluck him bald if necessary!
It was truly tragic—Fawkes had served Dumbledore faithfully for years, yet because of the old man's mediocre potion skills, he rarely tasted Felix Felicis.
Snape could brew it—
But that oily-haired troll never once thought to share a drop with Fawkes. Instead, he'd scavenge its feathers and blood during each rebirth cycle.
After all these years—
Finally, someone paid him properly.
Overwhelmed, Fawkes shed two more tears.
Guo Guo Tea dutifully produced two more vials and collected them.
Phoenix and cat—perfect cooperation.
…
In the dungeons, Snape suddenly sneezed. He pulled himself out of deep thought and scanned the room suspiciously.
He had been sitting before his cauldron for a long time.
Occlumency could control his expression—but not the storm inside.
Though Dumbledore's plan had been set since before the school year began… though he had long prepared himself for Harry to confront Voldemort…
Now that the plan was truly starting, Snape found he was far from calm.
The potion simmered with a rich aroma that usually soothed his nerves.
Tonight, it failed.
Just like that night, more than ten years ago.
"Expecto Patronum."
A soft whisper in the dim room.
Pale blue light blossomed gently, like a fragile memory blooming in darkness.
Snape stared blankly as the glow intensified—
Until out stepped a silver doe.
Her luminous eyes looked straight at him.
His heart clenched painfully.
Long ago, his Patronus hadn't been a doe.
Not until that night.
The night everything collapsed—ambition, bitterness, idealism, obsession—everything vanished with the death of the woman he loved.
In truth, Severus Snape had died that night too—
Kneeling in grief over Lily's body.
What remained was a shell held together by love and regret.
His cheek grew warm. Expressionless, Snape lifted a hand and wiped away the moisture—glinting faintly in the Patronus's soft glow.
He stared until the tears chilled and evaporated.
Turning away from the doe, he said quietly:
"…Go. Watch over Harry Potter."
The doe nuzzled his hand gently—he flinched away as if burned—and then bounded into the wall, fading from sight.
Leaving Snape alone in the dark, motionless as a puppet.
…
"Harry—wait! Why are you three running like devils are chasing you?"
From the path leading from the Forest to the castle, Hagrid lumbered behind them with a lantern raised high.
"You mean you went into the Forest at night to ask the centaurs for a reading? And they told you a prophecy about you and You-Know-Who? And Quirrell is Voldemort? Merlin's beard—can someone explain what's going on!?"
The mountain path was awful in the dark. Harry had tripped several times, lungs burning, but he didn't slow. Hermione wasn't doing much better; she ran purely on stubbornness.
Ron alone had enough breath left to shout, muscles much sturdier than his brain:
"What isn't clear!? Hagrid—You-Know-Who didn't die! He's on Quirrell's body—maybe as a spirit or something—and he wants the Stone to survive! We told you someone wanted to steal it! But none of you adults listened!"
That did it.
Hagrid's foot slipped—
Thud!
He crashed face-first onto the ground.
The Trio didn't stop. Even as Hagrid called for Harry not to do anything rash, they sprinted toward the castle.
They reached the side entrance. Harry was panting hard, but urgency kept him moving.
Until Hermione grabbed him.
"We can't rush in! What if Filch sees us?"
"We don't have time—"
"Filch won't listen to explanations. He'll accuse us of making excuses and waste even more time."
"So what do we do?" Ron gasped. "Should we curse him?"
Hermione glared. "Stop trying to curse everyone! I know the Disillusionment Charm. It's not perfect, but it should fool Filch long enough!"
"Then cast it already!"
"Ronald.
Would you let me finish speaking?"
Ron shut up instantly.
Hermione sighed and turned to Harry. "What's the plan? McGonagall or Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore, of course!"
"Do you know the password?"
"I…"
Harry froze.
He did not.
The Headmaster changed the password every day—usually to a wizarding sweet. Vaughn had told him that much. But even if Harry remembered every Muggle sweet, wizarding treats were another story.
Seeing his expression, Hermione nodded knowingly.
"If you don't have a plan, would you like to hear mine?"
"Er… yes."
"Good. We split up. One of us finds Dumbledore, one finds McGonagall, and one waits at the Headmaster's office. McGonagall and Vaughn both know the password—yes?"
Harry nodded.
"Excellent." Hermione's leadership snapped into place. "Harry, you go to McGonagall. I'll find Vaughn—I know Slytherin's password. Ron, you go to the eighth floor and wait. Try guessing passwords—wizard sweets. You know the most out of the three of us."
As she divided tasks methodically, Harry suddenly realized he had never truly paid attention to Hermione's strengths.
She was… a leader.
And he didn't mind.
She was his friend.
And he had enough self-awareness.
"All right. Your plan."
Ron also nodded eagerly.
Hermione cast the Disillusionment Charm—the three of them fading into faint distortions.
…
Meanwhile, in the dungeons, Snape's Patronus returned with news: Harry was re-entering the castle.
"I'm sorry, Lily," Snape murmured. "Dumbledore says it must be done… for Harry's growth."
His Patronus faded. Snape rose.
The man who left the dungeons was no longer the one who sat crying in the dark.
He was ice.
And with that ice, he would deceive his former master again—serving Dumbledore's plan, and the vow forged in grief a decade ago.
…
Harry now realized that Hermione had exaggerated—her Disillusionment Charm wasn't "not very good."
It was downright terrible.
He barely reached the second floor before it flickered and began failing.
Worse, he spotted Peeves.
Since Vaughn had thoroughly traumatized the poltergeist last year, Peeves had grown twisted. Too afraid to target Vaughn, he'd turned his malice toward other students—even teaming up with Filch.
If Peeves saw Harry, he would shriek the castle awake and possibly alert Quirrell, whose office was nearby.
Harry hid behind a stone pillar, praying Peeves would leave or someone else—preferably a rebellious upper-year—would distract him.
But exam season was near.
No mischief-makers in sight.
Hermione's charm failed entirely. Peeves drifted closer.
Harry's heart hammered.
Then—
A voice drawled, slow and cutting:
"Peeves… what are you doing here?"
Snape.
Harry stiffened.
He recognized that voice immediately.
Peeves cackled. "Severus—oh, wait, you're not the crybaby anymore! Now you're Professor Snape! Hee-hee! And Quirinus Quirrell—another crybaby! Two crybabies sneaking around in the dark—up to mischief, are we?"
Quirrell!?
Harry nearly jumped out of hiding.
Snape's voice chilled. "Leave, Peeves."
Then—
A thump.
Peeves shrieked furiously: "Damn you, Snape! Damn you too, Quirrell! Peeves will remember!"
He zoomed overhead—so close Harry pressed himself flat against the pillar. Black smoke clung to the poltergeist, making him jittery.
Then quiet.
Harry heard Quirrell's stutter. "S-S-Severus… w-why did you call me out h-h-here?"
Snape's voice was cold as a serpent's slither.
"Still aiming for the Stone, Quirinus?"
"I-I—I… n-no…"
"You can't fool me. Hagrid's dragon—given to him by you, wasn't it? Hoping to learn how to bypass the three-headed dog?"
Quirrell whimpered.
Snape continued, venomous.
"Congratulations. Vaughn Weasley delivered the dragon straight to Dumbledore. The old madman immediately guessed Hagrid's loose tongue. So he rearranged the Stone's protections and removed the dog entirely. Genius, aren't you?"
Quirrell sobbed.
Then—
Thud—a pained gasp. Snape must have slammed him against the wall.
"You should be grateful I have been covering for you. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have caught you long ago. You should also be grateful that I've spent years cultivating contacts in the Ministry. And today, using Vaughn Weasley as leverage, I managed to lure Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Vaughn away to London."
Harry's blood ran cold.
"Tomorrow—no, today. Today is the only window I can secure. I'll also disrupt the Floo Network to delay their return."
"The greatest obstacle is gone. You had better complete the task our master gave you."
"This is your last chance before summer. After that, Dumbledore will move the Stone. Fail again…"
Snape's voice dropped to a hiss.
"…and you'd better start choosing your grave."
Harry's legs trembled. Sweat soaked his clothes.
This was a nightmare.
Centaurs, Voldemort, Dumbledore gone—
And Snape…
Snape, whom he had begun to trust, whose Occlumency lessons had softened his hatred…
Snape was Voldemort's servant.
You idiot, Harry Potter.
Utter fool.
His chest burned—but he held himself together.
He needed to warn Ron and Hermione.
He needed to protect the Stone.
When the corridor finally fell silent, he checked—Snape and Quirrell were gone.
He ran.
Harry did not lose his head.
Even with panic gnawing at him, he knew what mattered.
He needed the Invisibility Cloak.
He needed Ron and Hermione.
He needed their intelligence and support.
Vaughn's presence in his life had been a harsh lesson:
You are no savior.
He knew he wasn't brilliant.
He didn't possess some hidden super-magic.
He wasn't special—just one more student.
His only advantage was the title "Boy Who Lived."
But even that was useless now.
His protectors—Dumbledore, McGonagall, Vaughn—were gone.
Only Ron and Hermione remained.
He retrieved the Cloak. Neville awoke, bleary-eyed. "Harry? Are you okay? You look awful."
"I'm fine, Neville. Go back to sleep."
Harry didn't bring Neville. He didn't want to drag anyone else into this.
Throwing the Cloak on, he rushed out.
…
Hermione stared at Vaughn's empty dorm room, baffled.
Her journey had been a disaster—her Disillusionment Charm failed quickly, the dungeon maze felt different at night, and she had spent ages just finding the "Sea View Apartment" wall Vaughn enchanted for Slytherin's private entrance.
But Vaughn wasn't there.
Then she heard soft hopping sounds.
She rushed out—and found Guo Guo Tea sniffing around, agitated at the intruder in its territory.
It relaxed when it recognized her.
"Guo Guo Tea… is Vaughn inside?"
The cat shook its head firmly.
Then, with an odd seriousness, it dug into its pouch and produced…
A tape player.
Just like hers.
It pressed play.
Vaughn's voice:
"Pureblood Eternal!"
Slytherin's new password.
Hermione's expression stiffened.
So Vaughn wasn't even in Hogwarts.
And the cat had been left alone.
Without instructions.
Why?
What emergency could be so urgent that Vaughn didn't even ask her to watch the cat—something he had never failed to do?
Before she could think further, Guo Guo Tea meowed and pulled out a transparent vial.
Mist curled inside.
But at the center—
A single glowing droplet.
Hermione felt the power radiating off it.
Her breath caught. "Is this…?"
Guo Guo Tea demonstrated—
Blinking rapidly, holding the vial to its eye.
"Eye… tears?" Hermione guessed.
"Meow!"
Then the cat enacted a dramatic "dying" performance, then "drank" from the vial, immediately springing back full of spirit.
Hermione stared.
Healing tears.
Powerful antidote.
Reviving properties.
There was only one magical substance in Hogwarts history with such effects—
Phoenix tears.
Recorded prominently in Hogwarts: A History.
Guo Guo Tea pushed three bottles toward her.
"For me?" Hermione asked.
"Meow!"
"Did Vaughn tell you to give them to me?"
Silence.
The cat suddenly pretended not to understand human language and licked its paw.
Very suspicious.
Hermione left Slytherin with three bottles of phoenix tears—and a tightening sense of wrongness.
Why three bottles?
Why now?
Why leave without warning?
She didn't know the answer—only that something was terribly off.
"Hermione!"
She spun around.
In the darkness of the dungeon corridor, two floating heads materialized—Harry and Ron under the Invisibility Cloak.
Well… quite a sight.
Harry pulled her under the Cloak and eyed the vials.
"What's that? And—you didn't find Vaughn, right?"
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