On the fifth floor, after dealing with his emotional mother and his noisy siblings, Vaughn returned to his single room and stared at the system panel hovering before him, deep in thought.
This was the first time he had seen a 'mission' pop up since awakening the system.
Strangely enough, the mission didn't seem to care whether he succeeded or failed—there was no punishment, only rewards upon completion.
And it was that reward that caught his attention.
"Talent point…"
Ever since the 'Newbie Gift Pack' had maxed out his Potion talent and shown him how absurdly easy and magical it was to learn and brew potions with 10 talent points, Vaughn had been itching to find a new way to improve his talents.
And that wasn't even mentioning the magic scale!
As the name suggests, the magic scale refers to the total amount and strength of magic in a wizard's body. The greater the scale, the more powerful one's spells—and the more times one could cast them.
However, it wasn't as simple as a fixed standard of magical power. Spellcasting also consumed emotional energy, and the strength of spells depended on one's mastery of them.
He still had two months to complete the task.
Vaughn stopped thinking about it and closed the system panel. He looked down at the letter from Hogwarts in his hand. On the first page, written in a formal script, it read:
[~ [Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry]
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)
Dear Mr. Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of necessary books and equipment.
The term begins on September 1st. Please send your reply by owl no later than July 31st.
Sincerely,
Deputy Headmistress,
Minerva McGonagall ~]
Vaughn quickly penned a reply at the desk and sent it back to Hogwarts via the Weasley family's new owl.
Poor old Errol had long since retired. A few years ago, while delivering one of Vaughn's potion shipments, the poor bird had nearly collapsed into the pond. After Vaughn began earning money, he insisted on letting Errol retire comfortably in the garden.
That had been the first time Arthur and Molly had accepted money from Vaughn.
They couldn't refuse—not when Errol was clearly past his limit and they couldn't even come up with an excuse. Afterward, they also used his earnings to renovate the entire house. But apart from that, they kept relying on Arthur's salary for daily expenses, not wanting any of their children to argue over money.
Thinking about money, Vaughn flipped to the second page of the Hogwarts letter and scanned the long list of required books and supplies. He shook his head.
"Looks like Ron's going to inherit Bill and Charlie's old stuff again. Hopefully, he won't cry this time."
In truth, Ron was far more 'resilient' than Vaughn gave him credit for.
Just as Vaughn finished sending the letter and stepped out the door, he passed the fourth floor—where Ron lived—and saw him proudly pacing back and forth, clutching his crumpled Hogwarts acceptance letter.
Percy patted his shoulder and declared, "Ron, I knew you'd get into Hogwarts!"
Ron immediately raised his chin a little higher.
Vaughn rolled his eyes from the stairs. Just yesterday, he had overheard Percy whispering in the kitchen, plotting with their mother about forging a Hogwarts letter to cheer Ron up if he didn't get one.
Then Percy added, "To celebrate your admission… how about I give you Scabbers?"
The sudden generosity caught Ron completely off guard.
He blinked blankly as Percy took a rat from his pocket, shoved it into Ron's arms, and walked away as fast as possible.
Leaning against the railing, Vaughn watched with mild amusement—until two familiar sets of footsteps crept up behind him.
He didn't need to look to know: it could only be Fred and George.
Sure enough, the twins flanked him, mimicked his pose leaning on the railing, and whispered in overly loud voices:
"I bet Percy's been dying to ditch Scabbers!"
"Totally, George. Scabbers is old and hideous—he could die any second now."
"Poor Ron. He probably thinks Percy gave him up so reluctantly."
"Yeah, George. How did such a stupid guy end up as our brother?"
"Don't ask me, Fred. Maybe Ron's missing brain cells ended up in one of our other brothers."
The twins broke into laughter, singing the words in unison.
Downstairs, Ron was so furious he nearly hurled Scabbers across the room—but couldn't bring himself to do it. He stormed off to his room instead, fuming.
Still chuckling, Vaughn turned to the twins, who were clearly trying to butter him up. "Alright, out with it. What do you two want?"
Fred and George exchanged glances, clearly caught.
"Go on, George."
"You're the older one."
"Oh, now you remember who's older?"
After a round of playful banter, seeing Vaughn still grinning, they knew they wouldn't be able to fool him. So they resorted to groveling: pinching his shoulders and patting his arms as they said—
"Dear Vaughn, you're heading to Diagon Alley soon, right? To buy your school supplies?"
"Mum said you could shop alone—we already knew you were well-off, but…"
"…We didn't realize you were this rich! So, uh, if it's not too much trouble… could you invest in a few extra ingredients for us?"
"Just a little! Our brilliant joke shop idea is this close to becoming reality!"
Watching the notorious pranksters bend the knee for a handful of Galleons, Vaughn almost laughed aloud.
But he also knew that Molly had always banned their magical experiments—not to be harsh, but because she was genuinely worried they'd go down the wrong path.
Over the years, despite their repeated requests for loans, Vaughn had always refused. They'd assumed he didn't make much. Until today.
Just buying all the books, robes, equipment, and even pets would easily cost over a hundred Galleons.
To the twins, that was an absurd fortune.
Enjoying their massage, Vaughn hummed, "Didn't you say the same thing when you borrowed 10 Sickles last time?"
"That was last time! Our first real product is almost ready, right, Fred?"
"Right, George!"
Seeing their enthusiasm and realizing they were actually serious this time, Vaughn rubbed his chin. "Well… the garden needs cleaning tomorrow…"
Before he could finish, the twins interrupted flatteringly:
"Hard work like that? How could we let you do it?"
"Exactly! Leave it to us!"
"…I was planning to dump it on Ron, Fred."
"This is our sincerity, George!"
"Couldn't agree more!"
Seeing them blink at him expectantly, Vaughn waved a hand. "Fine, fine. Let's see how well you perform tomorrow."
The twins cheered and dashed off downstairs.
Shaking his head, Vaughn lingered for a moment, then walked over to Ron's room and knocked.
A moment later, the door swung open forcefully.
Ron, still sulking, puffed out his cheeks and asked with a mixture of anger and cowardice, "W-What do you want?"
"Ron, come with me to Diagon Alley tomorrow."
Ron sputtered, clearly about to object—but he always acquiesced in front of Vaughn. After hesitating a few moments, he said with mock irritation: "Why should I? I've already got hand-me-downs!"
"Ohhh…" Vaughn feigned disappointment. "I was thinking of giving you your Christmas present early this year—like, maybe a new wand. But if you don't—"
"I'll go!"
"Huh?"
Ron's face turned red as his freckles, and he stammered, "I-I'll go… I-I was planning to buy mouse food for Scabbers anyway…"
Vaughn peered over his shoulder and saw Scabbers gnawing on a biscuit at the messy desk.
He narrowed his eyes mischievously. "Speaking of Scabbers… I've been wanting a potion test subject. Percy won't miss him, and he is old and ugly. What do you think, Ron? Want to donate him to science?"
Scabbers visibly shivered.
Ron's eyes widened in horror. For a moment, he was speechless. A minute earlier, he might've thrown a tantrum and yelled at Vaughn to leave. But now...
There was a new wand on the line...
Fortunately for Scabbers, he didn't have to suffer long. Vaughn, seeing the rat inching toward the table, gave Ron a light pat and laughed.
"Relax, I'm joking. One drop of potion and that thing would be toast." (Scabbers trembled harder.)
"Don't oversleep tomorrow. That's it." With that, Vaughn turned and went upstairs.
Ron let out a breath of relief, then rushed back inside and scooped up his pet.
"Don't be scared, Scabbers, don't be scared… He was just messing with us…"
Outside, in the stairwell's corner, Vaughn stood quietly, arms crossed, gazing at Ron's door with a smirk. "Hmph… Let's keep that rat alive a little longer."