Mirror of Erised

After finishing his chocolate, Vaughn noticed that Black's portrait and his teacher—who also appeared to be a former headmaster—were still locked in a ridiculous wrestling match, clawing and shouting at each other.

A crowd of old headmasters had gathered to spectate.

In the blink of an eye, the grand headmaster's office had turned into a lively room.

"Child, don't believe a word that old Black says. He's been acting crazy ever since he found out the last male heir of the Black family was imprisoned in Azkaban." A gentle voice came from beside him.

Vaughn turned toward the previously empty frame hanging near the desk, now occupied by a kind-looking old woman with vivid red hair.

In the wizarding world, red hair was always a clue.

Vaughn offered a respectful bow. "Hello, Headmistress Weasley. I'm sorry—I don't know how to properly address you?"

She was clearly one of the Weasley ancestors, though Arthur and Molly had been disowned after eloping and had taken nothing of the family lineage with them. Vaughn and the younger generations knew almost nothing about their own Weasley heritage.

The old lady was plump and amiable.

"Don't worry about that," she said kindly. "I've been dead a long time. Generations mean little to me now."

Vaughn followed her lead.

The dead didn't concern themselves with such things, so neither would he. Changing the subject, he asked, "You mentioned the last male of the Black family—do you mean Sirius Black?"

"Yes. That was ten years ago. I still remember the day Dumbledore broke the news to old Black—he howled like a madman."

"One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, passed down for centuries, about to be erased from history... We could understand his pain. But ever since, he's been trying to rope Slytherin students into rescuing Sirius from Azkaban." Headmistress Weasley sighed.

"It's gone too far. In the end, Dumbledore had to confine him to the office." She gave Vaughn a warm, maternal look and added with a warning tone, "You're still young. You may be drawn to power, but take care—be vigilant and restrained when studying dark magic."

"Some foolish dark wizards like to say there's no good or evil in power—that it's all about the wizard who wields it. But dark magic feeds on extreme, negative emotions. How many can one live in that state constantly and not go mad?"

Vaughn nodded. He thought the same.

Which was why he was so curious about how Dumbledore and Snape had managed to deal with that very problem.

After a brief chat with the old ancestor and watching the two portraits continue their endless brawl, Vaughn grew bored and began wandering around the office.

Near the fireplace, in a cabinet, he spotted a Pensieve.

He remembered Dumbledore had stored many memories related to Tom Riddle inside it to investigate how Tom had evaded death.

But the basin was empty. Dumbledore must have hidden the memories using magic.

Then, in a corner near the door, behind a tall shelf, he discovered a full-length mirror draped in black satin. He didn't need to uncover it. He already knew what it was.

"That's the Mirror of Erised."

The sudden rush of air from Apparition stirred the room as Fawkes returned with Dumbledore.

Having apparently confirmed something during his trip, the old wizard was in high spirits. He smiled at Vaughn and said, "It's said the mirror reveals a person's greatest desire. Mr. Weasley, don't you want to take a look?"

Vaughn smiled and shook his head. "I read about it in an alchemy text. It shows desire, but doesn't fulfill it. No matter what it reflects, it's still an illusion."

"But it might help clarify what's truly in your heart."

"I already know, Headmaster. True self-awareness comes from within, not from a mirror."

Vaughn's voice was calm, but he couldn't help poking a little fun. "What about you, Headmaster? What do you see in it?"

Dumbledore paused.

For a brief moment, his mind wandered. He thought of the many evenings he had stood before the mirror, watching the reflections of four children—laughing, happy, unbroken by tragedy—just as they had been ninety years ago.

But the great wizard quickly suppressed the emotion and gave Vaughn a mischievous wink. "I see lots of woolen socks. You'd understand if you were over a hundred—how deeply a man might wish someone would gift him a pair of warm socks for Christmas."

"Heh…" Vaughn responded with a vague chuckle.

He wasn't in the mood to keep playing Dumbledore's eccentric games, so he cut to the chase. "Did you find anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head with a sigh, but answered anyway. "Yes, Mr. Weasley. Your deduction was accurate. A powerful dark wizard is coveting unicorn blood, attempting to brew a potion of immortality to sustain his wretched, fragile life. Like a candle flickering in the wind."

As he said this, a complex look flashed through his blue eyes.

But soon his voice turned light again: "Although I didn't find the wizard himself, I did find the unicorn herd. Fortunately, none of them have died. Your discovery was timely, Mr. Weasley. On behalf of the unicorns, I thank you. You're a good man—"

Dumbledore wiped his eyes, overcome with emotion.

So dramatic.

Vaughn's mouth twitched. Honestly, he preferred hanging out with Ron and Harry. This crafty old man was far too slippery to be endearing.

Pity. It looked like Tom hadn't gone into the Forbidden Forest tonight. A confrontation between the two would've been thrilling.

Vaughn sighed and then offered a suggestion. "Headmaster, I think the unicorns should be relocated. The Forbidden Forest is no longer safe for them, and Hogwarts doesn't have the staff to watch the place around the clock."

"An excellent idea, Weasley—may I call you Vaughn? It feels more personal."

Vaughn grinned. "Then I'll call you Albus?"

To his surprise, Dumbledore didn't object. "Of course. A name is meant to be used, isn't it?"

Before Vaughn could respond, Dumbledore added: "I agree. The Forbidden Forest is no longer suitable. I've decided to ask an old friend for help. Come along, Vaughn—you'll like him. He's a good man, too."

Vaughn didn't object. He stepped over, grasping Dumbledore's wrist. Fawkes chirped and landed lightly on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Ever tried side-along Apparition? It's a bit uncomfortable at first."

"Ready, Albus."

"Don't struggle mid-transit. If your head detaches, it'll be tough to find."

"Noted, Albus."

"…You really don't have to keep saying my name."

"Got it, Albus."

Whoosh—

They vanished together in a blur, leaving behind the bickering portraits still shouting over one another.