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Chapter 18 - Chapter 18: On How to Break Down Family Defenses

"I've already memorised the class schedule, Vaughn. Gryffindor and Slytherin share quite a few lessons. So it seems the Sorting doesn't change as much as people think," Hermione said brightly.

"Our first class today is Transfiguration. Did you prepare for it? If not, I could lend you my notes. Or… we could sit together during the lesson?"

Breakfast was in full swing in the Great Hall, with the four long House tables lined with steaming platters of traditional British fare.

Of all the questionable meals Hogwarts served, Vaughn could tolerate breakfast. Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, beans, grilled tomatoes, and even toast in six different varieties, it was a comfortingly greasy spread.

Wearing his Slytherin crest as casually as a brooch, Vaughn sat brazenly at the Gryffindor table beside Hermione, calmly slicing into a sausage while she chirped beside him.

Every passing Gryffindor student gave him a look of confused horror, like they'd accidentally wandered into a parallel universe. After a few seconds of blinking and muttering, they would shuffle quickly away as though afraid prolonged exposure might get them expelled.

At the Slytherin table, glances were frequent and sharp. Some looked shocked. Others intrigued. Most were clearly just trying to figure out what, exactly, Vaughn Weasley thought he was playing at.

News traveled fast at Hogwarts.

By this morning, practically every Slytherin had heard the tale of how Vaughn had knocked out a Slytherin prefect with two spells. The poor boy had apparently been cursed so badly that not even counter-charms worked, and he had to be carted off to Madam Pomfrey in the middle of the night.

For most of Slytherin, this sparked a sudden reevaluation of the red-haired Weasley they'd barely noticed during the Sorting.

Slytherins, after all, respected strength.

Power meant respect. Power was respect. It didn't matter if you were a pure-blood or a half-blood or a Weasley, as long as you were powerful and not an idiot.

But still… what was he doing at the Gryffindor table?

Did treachery run in the Weasley bloodline?

Across the hall, the tension was palpable.

Slytherins, unsure of whether to approach, settled instead for glaring daggers at the Gryffindors.

The Gryffindors, bemused by Vaughn's presence but unwilling to start something in front of Hermione or more importantly, because of the reputation of Percy, Fred, and George, simply glared back.

By the time Fred and George Weasley came storming into the Hall, the air around Vaughn's breakfast had taken on a faintly explosive quality.

"Look, George! It's the venomous traitor of the Weasley family, seated at the enemy's table!" Fred declared dramatically, pointing as though Vaughn were some sort of museum exhibit.

"You're right, Fred! It's horrifying! He dares return after betraying us all and worse, he's eating our toast!"

The twins marched up to him, arms crossed, eyes wide, doing their best to radiate the stern disappointment of Victorian fathers.

Vaughn, unmoved, calmly dipped a torn piece of bread into his mushroom soup and took a thoughtful bite before replying.

"Are you sure you want to pick a fight with me this early in the morning?"

He set the spoon down with exaggerated politeness.

"I seem to recall two brothers who spent the entire summer buttering me up with jokes, snacks, and sneak peeks of their newest joke-shop ideas. I was actually planning on putting ten Galleons into your Halloween parcel, just to help fund your next big experiment..."

He turned to look at them, all innocence and sincerity.

"But now it sounds like you don't want that anymore?"

The twins froze.

Arms slowly uncrossed.

Eyes met.

Fred whispered, "What do we do, George?"

George whispered back, "Maybe… maybe we forgive him?"

Fred looked appalled. "Won't that make us look like complete sellouts?"

George hesitated. "Ten Galleons though..."

Fred grumbled, "Percy said no Weasley's ever ended up in Slytherin. That someone had to be taught a lesson..."

George glanced at Vaughn again, then leaned over and muttered, "Since when do we listen to Percy?"

The twins broke into wide grins at the exact same moment.

"Percy talks nonsense!" Fred announced.

"Complete nonsense!" George agreed. "We're not forgiving you for the money, Vaughn. That would be crass."

"Very crass," Fred confirmed. "We're forgiving you because no matter which House you're in… you're our brother."

"Exactly! Besides," George added with a wink, "not every Slytherin's a total git."

"Most are," Fred said helpfully. "But not you."

Vaughn smiled slightly. "Ten Galleons enough?"

The twins saluted. "Plenty. Crucial. Vital."

They scooped up a few pieces of toast each, muttering excitedly about fizzing tea-bags and portable swamp kits, and sauntered off with the swagger of men who had survived negotiations with a Slytherin.

Only when they were halfway down the hall did George murmur, "Percy was right though. No Weasley's ever been in Slytherin."

Fred shrugged. "What are we gonna do? He's our little brother."

"...Yeah."

---

"Well, that settles the twins." Vaughn let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

He kept a straight face, but inwardly, he was relieved things hadn't spiraled. Fred and George might be pranksters, but they were fiercely loyal, especially to younger siblings.

Last night, he'd written to Mum and Dad too.

He hadn't mentioned the whole business with Occlumency. Instead, he explained that after a long talk with the Sorting Hat, he'd chosen Slytherin so he could study Potions seriously, especially under Professor Snape.

Surely, when it came to academics and potential career development, his parents wouldn't take offense… right?

"If only I'd been this good at navigating people in my last life," he thought ruefully. "Maybe I wouldn't have ended up a disposable office worker."

He sighed dramatically.

Hermione, who had been quietly watching, hesitated before speaking up.

"Actually… I don't think being Sorted into Slytherin means anything bad."

He looked at her in mild surprise.

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she forged ahead bravely.

"I've read Hogwarts: A History, A Modern Magical History, and The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, and not a single historian ever said Slytherin only produced dark wizards. I mean, sure, the House has a reputation, but I don't think the Sorting defines who a person is. In fact--" she added quickly, "one of the most notorious Death Eaters in Modern Magical History was actually from Gryffindor."

She gave him a look that was half-defiant, half-nervous.

Was she trying to comfort him?

Vaughn's smile returned. He reached out and gently ruffled her curls.

"Thanks, Hermione."

He didn't need comforting, but having someone stand up for him so sincerely… it felt good.

Really good.

That pleasant warmth lasted all the way until breakfast ended and they headed off together for their first class, Transfiguration.

It was the very first lesson of their first year, and by the time Vaughn and Hermione arrived, the classroom was nearly empty.

Draco Malfoy was already there, sneering as usual while taking great delight in mocking a rather miserable-looking Neville Longbottom.

A tabby cat was perched on the teacher's desk, its tail curled neatly around its paws.

The moment Malfoy caught sight of Vaughn, he immediately stopped laughing and backed away with all the grace of a startled house-elf. His two cronies followed without a word.

Neville, unaware of the tension, rushed over and clutched Vaughn's arm in pure gratitude.

"Thank you, Vaughn! You're the only one who can scare Malfoy off like that! I heard you blasted a prefect last night! You're amazing!"

Vaughn's smile vanished.

From atop the desk, the tabby cat narrowed its eyes. It now wore the distinctly unimpressed expression of a teacher who'd heard everything.

"Thanks, Neville," Vaughn muttered. "Really. But if you could just… not shout that?"

The cat stared at him. Vaughn stared back.

Suddenly, the cat's form shimmered and with a pop, in its place stood Professor McGonagall, arms crossed.

"Mr Weasley. Mr Longbottom. I hope you're ready for class," she said crisply.

Vaughn groaned internally.

Fantastic. First Transfiguration class, and he'd already impressed the strictest teacher in the school, for all the wrong reasons.

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