In the next instant, Vaughn cast another Expelliarmus.

The Dark wizard's Shield Charm shattered on impact, though the brief delay had already allowed him to ready a counterattack. A burst of red light shot from his wand.

But to his surprise, the curse fizzled out inches before reaching Vaughn, dispersing into harmless sparks. A far more advanced Shield Charm shimmered in the air, protecting Vaughn with flawless precision.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Under the defense of a fourth-level Shield Charm, Vaughn unleashed a relentless volley of spells. Red bolts of light cut through the dim corridor, forcing the cloaked figure into a frantic retreat.

No one could see the panic flooding the man's heart.

Not just because of Vaughn's precise spellcasting, but the sheer power behind it, he wielded magic like an adult wizard, with no sign of strain.

Driven back by the flurry of spells, the Dark wizard let out a high-pitched, twisted scream. "Forgive me, Master! Help me!"

As the final syllable left his lips, the corridor filled once more with a low, rasping hiss, like some ancient serpent stirring from slumber.

A different kind of magic stirred within the cloaked man. Dark and terrible, it pulsed outward like a ripple in water. The torches lining the walls flickered and turned a ghostly white, as though the color was draining from the world itself.

The man shrieked in agony.

It wasn't pain from Vaughn's attacks. Something was taking hold of him, manipulating him.

Harry screamed as well, clutching his scar. The pain was worse this time, blinding and overwhelming.

Through the haze, he saw a warped figure raise a wand.

Vaughn's face hardened.

"…Voldemort…"

He wouldn't have confronted him so soon if it weren't for Harry and Hermione. It wasn't fear holding him back, just pure caution.

He had never feared anyone.

A flurry of thoughts raced through Vaughn's mind as he faced the now terrifying enemy. Channeling every cruel thought he could summon, he pointed his wand and shouted:

"Sectumsempra!"

There was no light, no crackling sound, just a ripple in the air as the sinister curse slipped forward.

In Harry's blurred vision, everything moved in slow motion. He saw the unfamiliar spell slice through the man's Shield Charm and stab into his shoulder like a blade.

The cloaked man screamed, rage and pain mingling. His wand tip flashed with a sickly green glow.

"Avada—"

But Vaughn was already moving.

In one smooth motion, he pulled a fiery red feather from his pocket and hurled it into the air. His wand flicked--

"—Kedavra!"

The green curse surged forward just as Vaughn's fire ignited the feather. Light and flame clashed in midair.

At that very moment, Fawkes the phoenix sensed the call.

He Apparated straight into the corridor, wings flaring--

And the first thing he saw was a wall of sickly green light barreling straight at him.

There are bad days, and then there's this, Fawkes thought.

Recognizing the curse instantly, Fawkes barely had time to squawk in horror before his feathers exploded outward in a poof of smoke and ash. With a pitiful plop, he hit the ground as a bald, pink chick.

At the same time, another surge of powerful magic was fast approaching from below.

Dumbledore.

The cloaked man sensed it too. He let out a snarl of fear and fury, then clutched his shoulder and vanished in a swirl of black smoke.

Only then did Vaughn finally breathe again.

He had already dragged Harry and Hermione into the Charms classroom the moment he lit the phoenix feather. Thank Merlin for being cautious and for sending Ron ahead with a message earlier.

And thank Merlin for Fawkes.

It was only now Vaughn realized his entire shirt was soaked in sweat. His wand hand was trembling.

This was no rampaging troll. This was his first real wizard duel.

And his opponent had been none other than the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort.

A weakened version, sure, but still.

He didn't even spare a thought for Quirrell. That idiot was just a meat puppet.

Sitting heavily on the floor, Vaughn took a few shaky breaths, then glanced at Harry, still dazed, and Hermione, pale but wide-eyed and alert. He didn't have the energy to scold them. The professors would do that soon enough.

Then he turned toward the corridor.

There sat Fawkes, still in his chick form, eyes unfocused, as if wondering what cosmic mistake had led him to this moment.

Vaughn crawled over and gently scooped the tiny phoenix into his hands.

"Thanks, Fawkes. I knew you'd come," he whispered.

Fawkes blinked at him, beak quivering.

If he could speak, he might have let loose a tirade that would make a sailor blush. What kind of lunatic used a phoenix feather as a flashbang against the Killing Curse? Why had he ever answered the summons?

Fawkes longed to go back in time, to that fateful day when Vaughn picked up one of his shed feathers, treating it like treasure. Back then, Fawkes had looked down at the boy from his perch, amused.

If he could redo that moment, he'd peck the boy senseless on the spot.

A swirl of silvery mist rushed in, forming into the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore. He landed lightly and strode over, scanning Vaughn, Harry, and Hermione in rapid succession.

Finding them alive, he glanced at the battered corridor and let out a subtle breath.

Then he noticed what was in Vaughn's hands.

Fawkes, bald as a boiled egg.

Dumbledore's lips twitched.

"I can hardly believe it. What kind of reckless children sneak out during dinner, run into a troll, then go charging after a missing friend without telling a prefect or a single professor?"

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled with fury.

The four of them - Vaughn, Ron, Harry, and Hermione, stood in her office, enduring a tirade that had gone on for over ten minutes. But what truly infuriated McGonagall was their lack of remorse.

Vaughn looked around innocently. Ron's face was red from barely-suppressed excitement. Harry stared blankly, occasionally glancing at Vaughn and the gathered professors, as if still dreaming. Even Hermione, usually the embodiment of rules and discipline, was visibly distracted.

Professor Snape was staring too, his empty black eyes fixed on Vaughn with unreadable intensity.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Severus, could you and Filius please take care of the troll? Our dear Vaughn rather spectacularly exploded its head. There's blood all over the place."

Professor Flitwick nodded and led the still-silent Snape out of the room.

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, please escort Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger to Madam Pomfrey for a checkup… oh, and also check on poor Professor Quirrell, still collapsed in the Great Hall."

McGonagall looked like she wanted to continue yelling, but finally relented.

As she turned to call the students, Dumbledore added, "Vaughn, stay."

McGonagall hesitated.

She glanced into Dumbledore's eyes, seemed to understand, then said nothing more.

Ron tugged Harry along behind McGonagall, head held high. Hermione lingered, clearly worried about Vaughn, but he gave her a quick nod. Only then did she reluctantly follow the others out.