Harry Potter: From Young Wizard to White Devil

The next day, Saturday.

That morning, Vaughn, who was visiting Gryffindor, happened to see Harry and Ron heading toward the Forbidden Forest, with Hermione trailing behind them, clutching a book tightly to her chest.

"I'm going to watch you," was all she said.

Ron immediately assumed Hermione was retaliating against him—spying on their every move, just waiting for them to slip up so she could report them to a professor.

But Harry disagreed. "Hermione cares more about house points than anything. She's not hoping we mess up—she's terrified we'll lose points for Gryffindor."

"Then what exactly is she trying to do? Merlin's beard, every time I glance back, there she is, following us like a ghost! Do you know how creepy that is?"

Harry didn't respond. He didn't want to think about it.

They arrived at Hagrid's hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid greeted them warmly, and Hermione went in as well, but barely spoke to Harry or Ron, directing all her conversation toward Hagrid.

Inside, Harry spotted a newspaper lying around. It contained an article about a recent break-in at Gringotts. Based on the date, the robbery had happened the same day he and Hagrid had visited.

Recalling the mysterious package Hagrid retrieved that day, Harry quickly pieced things together.

When they returned, he slapped the newspaper in front of Ron and Hermione and said, "The ones who broke into Gringotts—they were after whatever it was Hagrid took! He was being really secretive about it, but he did say it was important."

He pointed to the report. "Look here— 'The vault searched by the intruder had already been emptied earlier that same day.' It's definitely Vault 713! The one with just a grubby little pouch in it. Hagrid took that, which means they found the vault empty!"

"Cool!" Ron whistled.

Then Harry remembered something. He looked at them nervously and said, "Uh… Hagrid told me not to tell anyone about this. You'll keep it secret, right?"

"Absolutely confidential!" Ron thumped his chest and immediately broke into a cough.

Hermione snorted. "I always keep my mouth shut."

That, coincidentally, was also what Harry had promised Hagrid at the time.

So naturally, the very next day, Vaughn found out…

"The Philosopher's Stone..." He went to the library and found a reference book that described the legendary alchemical object. As he studied the illustrations, he fell into deep thought.

Unlike the fanfics he used to read in his past life—many of which dismissed the Stone as trivial—the more Vaughn learned about magic, the more awe-inspiring the Philosopher's Stone seemed. It could reverse the nature of matter itself—something even the most advanced Transfiguration couldn't accomplish. It could turn any metal into pure gold.

And the Elixir of Life it produced was the only known substance capable of truly conquering death.

Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, had lived for six centuries thanks to it.

Six hundred years! Was there anything more astonishing in the wizarding world?

Of course, such longevity seemed to come with side effects. Vaughn remembered watching Fantastic Beasts in his past life—Flamel had appeared as a feeble old man with brittle bones.

"They say the Flamels live in seclusion somewhere in Devonshire. My family's there too, but sadly, there's no more precise information. Knowing their caution, I'd bet they've hidden themselves under something like the Fidelius Charm. No one would be able to find them."

"Still... I'd really love to visit and have a proper chat."

Vaughn hadn't begun studying alchemy yet. The subject remained mysterious. Although the Hogwarts library had several books on it, the content confused him. There were endless ramblings about 'spiritual journeys' and 'creation from nothing, most of which read like the author had been drunk while writing.

As he shut the book and prepared to leave, the system panel popped up in front of him.

[New Quest Activated]

[Side Mission 1: Obtain the Philosopher's Stone]

[Reward: Alchemy Talent]

"..." Vaughn stared at it, speechless. These quests were becoming increasingly outrageous.

The Philosopher's Stone was currently coveted by both the Dark Lord and the White Lord. Anyone would be insane to get involved.

He dismissed the panel and returned the book. Seeing the time, he hurried toward Professor Snape's office.

To be honest, Vaughn thought Snape had terrible taste. Both the Potions classroom and the office were located in the darkest, dampest part of Hogwarts Castle.

The corridor alone was enough to make his skin crawl. With surroundings like this, how could he ever have competed with James Potter?

No girl would go for someone with such morbid aesthetic choices!

But when Vaughn pushed open the office door and saw the fully stocked shelves of herbs and potions...

It smelled amazing! Surprisingly good. While most assumed potion ingredients reeked, once processed, many gave off an odd but pleasant aroma.

Not to mention the potion bottles lined up in the cabinets, glowing in the fireplace's flickering light—each one crystal-clear and vibrant.

Snape maintained his usual cold, expressionless face. He stood in the corner like a ghost, silently watching Vaughn.

Only when Vaughn became absorbed in examining the potions did Snape allow the corners of his mouth to twitch faintly—finally, someone who appreciated his efforts.

He had spent two full days carefully selecting ingredients from his private stores, filling a brand-new medicine cabinet with potions that were precious—but not so much as to appear showy—and educational, but still impressive.

"Professor, this is a treasure trove!" Vaughn said sincerely.

Snape unexpectedly felt pleased. He was reminded of Friday night, when he'd presented Vaughn's improved 'Cure for Boil' Potion to Dumbledore.

The old man's surprise and admiration had been deeply satisfying.

Forget the so-called savior. Vaughn Weasley—his cunning Slytherin classmate—was a genuine potion prodigy!

"Vaughn Weasley," Snape said slowly, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to explore it. Now, show me what's so special about your extraction method."

"Oh? Plenty of opportunities? Professor, does that mean I can visit you every weekend?" Vaughn, as always, knew how to catch the important details.

Snape didn't respond—his silence an unspoken agreement. He stepped aside to reveal a simmering cauldron. Inside it bubbled the very same Cure for Boil Potion.

Clearly, he intended to observe Vaughn's entire brewing process.

Vaughn didn't mind. He drew his wand and got to work. For a while, the only sounds in the gloomy basement were the clinks of tools, the slicing of herbs, and the gentle swirl of liquid.

Occasionally, they spoke:

"Hmm... an unusual choice. How do you ensure magical penetration?"

"Familiarity with the ingredients, Professor. Maybe I've got a talent for Transfiguration—my magic slips easily into their structure."

"Of course, if you're an average wizard, you could always rely on practice. Practice makes perfect."

"...Let me try that."

"Go ahead, Professor!"