Bargaining (Part 1)

Vaughn hadn't thought much of his "chance encounter" with old Dumbledore. Their earlier conversation had naturally not been mere small talk. Dumbledore had played dumb, but his underlying message had been that he knew of the Room of Requirement and had been keeping track of Vaughn's movements.

His so-called invitation to try that bathroom room had been an even clearer test—testing whether Vaughn was willing to "behave," and what his attitude toward him was.

So Vaughn had refused outright and made his current goal clear:

I just want to study potions. Stop bothering me!

There was a saying in his previous life: "A gentleman can be deceived by proper means."

Dumbledore was hardly a gentleman, but no matter how many conspiracy theorists from Vaughn's previous life speculated otherwise—

One indisputable fact was that Dumbledore truly acted according to rules and conventions.

He was unwilling to force others to act as he wished, unwilling to abuse his own magic. He only guided people, seized upon the weaknesses of human nature, and achieved his goals within the bounds permitted by the rules.

The formation and solidification of that personality and style were not innate to Dumbledore. They stemmed from several heartbreaking setbacks and lessons over the course of his long life.

Ariana, who had died in Godric's Hollow.

Grindelwald, who had broken with him.

And even Tom Riddle...

Perhaps, during the many days and nights when Voldemort had run rampant, Dumbledore had often regretted it.

Regretted why, when he first met Tom, he had displayed his power to make him submit.

He had used power to force a child to admit his mistakes, and so that child had spent his entire life chasing power, only to lose himself within it!

It was precisely because Vaughn knew Dumbledore's character and past so well that he had never feared or hated him—if it had been Voldemort instead, Vaughn would have blasted him in the face with a spell and then figured out how to escape. There would have been no pointless conversation at all.

Vaughn liked people who followed rules, though he himself did not necessarily follow them...

That was called a flexible moral bottom line!

The next day, when Vaughn went to see Professor Snape, he told him about his encounter with the Headmaster and cheerfully commented, "The Headmaster is a good man."

"..." Snape remained expressionless, though he felt that something about this was deeply strange.

But at that moment, he had no interest in considering whether Vaughn was being sarcastic or truly believed it.

This time, they did not meet in the gloomy dungeon.

Instead, they had come to the Quidditch pitch—Snape had chosen the location.

It was already late September, with October just around the corner. Temperatures in the Scottish Highlands had plummeted, and the weather had become increasingly foul. Leaden clouds rolled overhead, while fierce winds whipped cold rain through the Quidditch pitch with wild howls.

Even in such terrible weather, the Gryffindor team had not given up training.

Oliver Wood rode his broomstick, tossed about by the wind. Every time he opened his mouth, it filled with rainwater, yet he still struggled to shout out a motivational speech and tactical instructions.

He paid no attention whatsoever to his teammates, whose faces were pale and green, as though they had been possessed by vampires.

Tiny Harry had fallen several times already. He was shivering so badly he could barely keep his glasses on, as though he might convulse and drop dead at any moment.

In weather like this, not even the most enthusiastic Gryffindors were willing to leave their warm fireplaces to support the team in person.

In the empty stands, only Ron and Hermione, wrapped in raincoats, huddled beneath the shelter.

As a result, Vaughn and Snape, standing at the edge of the pitch under Water-Repelling Charms and Bubble-Head Charms, looked incredibly conspicuous.

"...Do you see that?! Slytherin is afraid of us!! They've sent their Head of House and their best student to scout us out. Are we going to let them look down on us? Where's your passion? Where are your voices?"

"Harry! Roar! Show Slytherin what you're made of!!"

Wood was overflowing with passion.

Harry said, "C-c-c-c-c..."

The twins could not help complaining, "What can they scout out in this awful weather? How Harry freezes into an ice block?"

"Wood's gone mad, Fred. Ever since his plan to use Harry as a secret weapon fell apart, his brain has been turning into a troll's."

Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson clung desperately to her broomstick, already a complete mess in the wind. She wailed loudly, "Damn you, Wood! I curse you to turn into a woman, have your period every day, and get drenched by torrential rain every day!"

The Gryffindor team: "..."

Watching the little lions' miserable state, Snape gave a pleased snort. "A foolish team. A foolish Potter."

Vaughn's ears automatically filtered out Snape's venom toward Harry. Smiling, he watched Fred, George, and Harry in the distance as they neared collapse, then asked, "Professor, do you like Quidditch too?"

Snape remained expressionless and answered succinctly, "A foolish sport!"

"Then why did you bring me here?"

Snape's cheek twitched. Rather than answer, he asked in his distinctive slow drawl, "You have finished reading your books. When do you intend to begin refining the Magic Extraction Method?"

"Not yet, Professor," Vaughn explained. "Next, I plan to delve deeper into potions. I'll first brew some advanced potions and familiarize myself with the rituals involved in advanced potion-making before beginning my research into materials."

Snape thought for a moment. "I heard from Dumbledore that you also intend to develop new potions?"

"Yes. In fact, refining the Magic Extraction Method cannot produce results quickly."

"Every material has many different properties. Some can be used in known formulas, while others cannot, but that does not mean they will not be useful in the future."

"If I want to construct a universal template, I must understand every property—its effects, the similarities and differences in extraction methods, and whether combining them produces new properties. At the very least, I need to establish a relatively clear catalogue of all that."

It was an enormous undertaking.

Snape could not help glancing at Vaughn.

Vaughn remained calm as he continued, "Even after extracting a trait, it would be impossible to immediately determine its function. At best, we could make vague guesses—especially for those absent from known formulas. That would require developing new potions to qualitatively identify them..."

"I intend to make the Magic Extraction Method my life's work, Professor, but I cannot keep saying it's 'still being perfected.' Developing new potions would both verify my theories and fill in the gaps before I could fully perfect it."

Snape did not know what to say.

His rigid face and lifeless eyes revealed nothing of what he was thinking. Only after a long while did he snort. "Ignorant and fearless!"

After a pause, he added, "But not arrogant."

Vaughn merely smiled, unbothered. "I've always believed that one should have lofty ambitions while keeping one's feet on the ground."