Morning sunlight filtered faintly through the lake, casting rippling patterns on the ceiling. Vaughn groaned softly as he stirred, feeling something heavy pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He cracked one eye open.

Curled contentedly on top of him was a large, fluffy Maine Coon, its tail twitching, eyes lazily half-closed.

"Good morning, you overgrown Fruity," Vaughn muttered, lifting the covers and glaring at the cat. "Back in my bed again, huh?"

"Meowrrr~" came the smug reply.

The cat stretched out luxuriously and began purring loudly, rubbing its head against his chin with the confidence of a creature that knew it could get away with anything.

After a bit of playful wrestling with his oversized feline companion, Vaughn finally pushed the cat aside and rolled out of bed. Sunlight now reached into the higher dormitories overlooking the Black Lake, casting golden beams through the thin frost forming along the surface. From this height, about ten meters above the water, he could see hazy sunrays filtering through the ice, casting a shimmering glow beneath.

He hadn't slept well, but it wasn't the duel with Voldemort that kept him awake. Not exactly. It was what came after.

Lying in bed, he'd replayed every second of that encounter, analyzing Voldemort's condition, assessing every detail like a general reviewing a battlefield.

The conclusion?

Much worse than expected.

"Without unicorn blood, he's probably leeching Quirrell's life force just to hang on. No wonder he acted so fast the moment Quirrell cried for help. He's terrified."

Terrified of losing the last person still loyal to him. Terrified that his grand plan for resurrection might collapse entirely.

Even though that twisted, ghostly figure had radiated power, and even though the Killing Curse had been genuinely terrifying, Vaughn had noticed something else in hindsight. Voldemort was bluffing. Hollow strength. The curse had shattered Quirrell's Shield Charm only because he hadn't had the focus or energy to replace it in time. Vaughn's Severing Curse had pierced through like a knife through parchment.

And the way Voldemort fled the moment Dumbledore approached… not even a second's hesitation.

"The Dark Lord… reduced to this. Scurrying away like a cockroach when the light comes on." Vaughn shook his head as he stepped into the bathroom. "How the mighty have fallen."

After freshening up, he didn't head to breakfast. Instead, he summoned his system panel.

Today was Halloween. November 1st. That meant it was time to receive last month's Reputation Point payout.

[Host: Vaughn Weasley]

Magic Index: 444 (Average adult wizard: 500)

Talents: Charms 7, Dark Arts 6, Transfiguration 8, Potions 10, Herbology 6, Divination 2 (Max: 10)

Spells Known:

Occlumency LV5 (MAX), Shield Charm LV4 (0/16), Disarming Charm LV3 (2/8), Blasting Curse LV1 (0/4), Disillusionment Charm LV1 (1/4), Vanishing Spell LV0 (2/3), Patronus Charm LV0 (0/4), Sectumsempra LV1 (0/6)

Potions Mastered: Cheering Potion and others

Reputation Points: 6

"Four hundred forty-four…" Vaughn grimaced. "That number doesn't feel lucky."

He scrolled past his list of mastered spells and potions, focusing on what mattered most, reputation.

"Only 6 points this month? That's just one more than last time…"

He wasn't sure where the gain had come from. Definitely not potions, he hadn't released any new ones for two months. Between classes and Quidditch, he'd been too busy to keep up with his old production schedule.

"Maybe joining the Slytherin Quidditch team helped. Or maybe it was that whole 'defeating a troll' incident. Could be both."

Unfortunately, the system didn't provide a breakdown of reputation sources. No graphs, no details, just cold hard numbers. Useless for diagnostics.

After a brief moment of reflection, Vaughn spent 4 points to raise the Patronus Charm to Level 1 (0/8) and used 1 point on the Vanishing Spell, bringing it to Level 1 (0/6). He saved the last point for next month.

Why not invest in Apparition instead?

Because Scarpin's Revelation Spell, now at Level 3, required a ridiculous 32 points to max out. Tossing a few in now would be a waste. Besides, he used it frequently enough while brewing that progress would come naturally with time.

The Patronus and Vanishing spells, on the other hand, were absurdly difficult to level through practice alone.

The Patronus, in particular, was a nightmare. It demanded pure, focused emotion, positive, joyful emotion. Sounded easy enough on paper.

In practice?

It was like trying to laugh while filling out tax forms.

See, Vaughn had a problem. A very specific kind of problem.

He was a grown man inside. A transmigrated soul who'd already been through adult life. That meant soul-crushing responsibilities, existential fatigue, and trauma courtesy of capitalism.

If someone asked him to list things that annoyed him, he could go all week.

But ask him to summon a pure, radiant memory of joy?

He might manage a weak sigh at best.

It wasn't that he'd never been happy. He had. But those memories felt dulled. Worn out. Not nearly bright enough to fuel a Patronus.

So after failing to make any progress for weeks, he'd shelved the spell in frustration.

Now, though, with the skill leveled to 1, it was worth trying again.

He raised his wand and took a breath.

"Expecto Patronum."

This time, the words didn't feel hollow. As he spoke, something stirred deep inside him, memories he hadn't thought of in years.

Being hoisted onto his dad's shoulders. Nestled in his mother's arms. Racing through golden fields with friends at sunset. The nervous rush of confessing to his first crush.

The images surfaced slowly, then all at once, colors sharpening, warmth returning.

Then came this life's memories.

Arthur's gentle scolding. Molly's warm cooking. Ginny's giggles. His first trip to Diagon Alley. The moment he discovered magic was real. His very first pet.

Two lives intertwined in a cascade of joy and wonder.

Emotion surged, threading through his veins like liquid fire, winding through his wand and out the tip in a brilliant stream of pale silver light.

The mist shimmered, coiled, and then--

A burst of blinding radiance.

A soft, chiming sound echoed in the bathroom, and from the glow leapt a semi-transparent Maine Coon, silver-blue and ghostlike, trailing light as it landed gracefully on the tiled floor.

It looked up at him and meowed.

Vaughn stared at it, dumbfounded. His face felt oddly warm.

He touched his cheek.

Damp.

His fingers came away wet with tears.