After finishing his chocolate, Vaughn turned his attention back to the portraits in the office. The painting of the younger Black was still in a furious scuffle with his old teacher, who might have been a former headmaster. A small crowd of elderly witches and wizards had gathered around them, gleefully watching the chaos unfold.

The Headmaster's office had somehow transformed into a magical senior citizen brawl club.

"Child, don't listen to old Black's nonsense," came a warm, matronly voice beside him. "He lost his mind the day he learned the last male heir of the Black family had been thrown into Azkaban."

Vaughn looked toward the source. A previously empty portrait frame near the desk now held a plump, red-haired old witch. That hair color was instantly recognizable. In the wizarding world, red like that meant one thing.

He bowed respectfully. "Good day, Headmistress Weasley. Forgive me, I'm not sure how to address you properly."

She was clearly an ancestor of the Weasley family. Unfortunately, due to Arthur and Molly's elopement, their branch had long been cut off from the family records. None of the younger generation, including Vaughn, knew much about the Weasley lineage.

The old witch gave a kindly laugh. "No need to worry about titles. I've been dead for quite some time. Whatever status I held in the family is dust now."

Vaughn nodded, following her lead. If the ghost herself didn't care, there was no reason for him to press it.

Trying to change the subject, he asked, "You mentioned the last male heir of the Black family. Did you mean Sirius Black?"

"That's right," she replied. "That was ten years ago. I still remember when Dumbledore brought the news to old Phineas Black. The man howled like a banshee."

Her eyes dimmed slightly as she continued, "The Black family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a line stretching back centuries. Watching it fall into oblivion... I can understand his pain. But after that, he kept trying to lure Slytherin students into rescuing Sirius from Azkaban."

She sighed deeply. "It was too much. Dumbledore had no choice but to restrict him to this office."

Then, with a gentle look, she turned to Vaughn and offered a bit of advice. "You're young, and I'm sure the pursuit of power must be tempting. But be cautious. Dark magic feeds on negative emotions. It doesn't just take power to wield it. It takes part of your soul. And who can say they won't lose themselves in the process?"

Vaughn nodded seriously. That was exactly how he saw it too. It made him wonder how people like Dumbledore and Snape managed to navigate that treacherous path without going mad.

They chatted for a while longer. Eventually, the portrait squabble lost its entertainment value. Vaughn wandered through the office, poking around to see what else might be hidden here.

In a cabinet near the fireplace, he found a Pensieve.

He remembered from his reading that Dumbledore had preserved a number of memories related to Voldemort in his efforts to understand the mystery of the Dark Lord's survival. However, the Pensieve appeared empty. Those memories were likely hidden somewhere more secure.

Near the main door, behind a cluttered shelf, Vaughn stumbled across a tall object draped in black velvet.

He didn't need to lift the cloth to know what it was.

"That's the Mirror of Erised," came a voice, followed by a subtle shift in the air.

Fawkes had returned, bringing Dumbledore back with him. The old man looked unusually cheerful, as if his outing had gone quite well.

"Legend says it shows a person's deepest desire," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "Care to take a look, Mr. Weasley?"

Vaughn shook his head with a small smile. "I read about it in an alchemy book. It only reflects desire. It can't grant it. No matter how fascinating, it's still just an illusion."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "but it can help you understand your own heart."

"I already know what I want, Headmaster. Self-awareness should come from within, not from a mirror."

The reply was pointed. Vaughn's patience had run thin. He couldn't resist a jab. "So... what do you see when you look into it?"

Dumbledore paused.

For a moment, the twinkle in his eye vanished. His thoughts drifted to the many nights he had stood silently before the mirror, watching four laughing children reflected in the glass, unchanged for nearly a century. They were smiling, together, untouched by betrayal or loss.

But the old wizard mastered himself quickly. With a wink, he replied, "I see warm wool socks. You must understand, at my age, there's nothing more precious than cozy toes on Christmas morning."

"Right..." Vaughn replied with a noncommittal chuckle.

He'd had enough of the Headmaster's theatrics for today. So he cut to the point. "Did you find anything?"

Dumbledore's expression turned solemn. "Yes, Mr. Weasley, your suspicions were correct. A powerful dark wizard is hunting unicorn blood. He's trying to brew a form of immortality, to cling to a wretched, flickering existence."

His piercing blue eyes briefly darkened with emotion, though he quickly lightened his tone.

"I didn't find him, sadly. But I did locate the herd of unicorns. None have been harmed, thanks to your timely discovery. I believe they owe you their lives."

He dabbed at the corner of his eye dramatically. "Such a good lad."

Vaughn's eye twitched. Compared to this over-the-top elder, he much preferred hanging out with Ron and Harry. Dumbledore was absolutely exhausting.

What a shame, he thought. Looks like Voldemort didn't sneak into the forest tonight. If he had, that would've been quite the show.

Suppressing his disappointment, he offered a suggestion. "Headmaster, I think the unicorns should be moved somewhere safer. The Forbidden Forest just isn't secure anymore, and Hogwarts doesn't have enough staff to keep watch constantly."

"A wise suggestion," Dumbledore agreed. "And may I call you Vaughn? It feels more friendly."

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

To his surprise, Dumbledore didn't mind at all. "Of course. A name's meant to be used, after all."

Before Vaughn could laugh again, the old man added, "I've decided to ask an old friend for help relocating the unicorns. Come along, Vaughn. He's a good man. I think you'll like him."

Vaughn didn't hesitate. He stepped beside Dumbledore and gripped his wrist as Fawkes landed gently on the Headmaster's shoulder.

"Ever experienced side-along apparition before?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not yet, Albus."

"Just relax. It'll be uncomfortable, but only for a moment."

"Got it, Albus."

"Don't struggle mid-apparition. Disembodiment is messy. If your head pops off, it may take me a while to find it."

"Understood, Albus."

"...You don't have to keep saying my name every time."

"Okay, Albus."

With a loud whoosh, they vanished, leaving behind a room full of noisy, squabbling portraits.