But as time passed, Kreacher watched the thick darkness four feet away churn violently beneath spell after spell, as though it had been enraged. He grew increasingly terrified, clutching Vaughn's robes tightly in both hands, his huge eyes filled with fear of the unknown.
At one point, just as Kreacher watched the darkness boil like water, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, and the oppressive force bearing down on them was about to reach its limit—
Vaughn finally stopped casting.
In an instant, the smoke-like dancing darkness returned to calm. The pressure abruptly lifted, and Kreacher gasped sharply, drenched in cold sweat.
He looked up and saw Mr. Weasley lost in thought again. Finally overcome by fear, he could not help tugging at his robes. "Sir—"
Vaughn lowered his head, saw the rag-clad elf soaked through with cold sweat, and suddenly understood. "Ah, sorry, Kreacher. I was probing Voldemort's weakness. I frightened you."
Kreacher's attention was immediately drawn to his words. "Voldemort's weakness?"
The horrifying memories from more than ten years ago surfaced once more. Could such a terrifying wizard, like some demon, actually have a weakness?
Under his puzzled gaze, Vaughn nodded lightly. "Of course. Voldemort is human too. And humans have weaknesses."
Kreacher could tell that Mr. Weasley's tone was quite light. He asked cautiously, "Then—did you find it?"
"Yes!"
As Vaughn answered, he led him toward the lakeshore. The darkness that had seemed so dangerous only moments ago surrounded them, continually parting before them and closing again behind them.
Kreacher tried not to think, lest fear crush him. He worked his mind, unused for so long, to distract himself. "The spells you cast just now... were they to verify this?"
Vaughn nodded, but instead of answering directly, he asked, "Kreacher, what is magic to you?"