— You're sure you don't want to come with me? Why stay here?
Viktor looked at Hermione, who stood at the bottom of the moving staircase, surrounded by suitcases and bustling students hurrying to the train.
— No, I have things to do, — Viktor replied, shrugging nonchalantly. — Say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Granger for me.
— Alright, I'll see you after the Christmas holidays, bye, — Hermione said, waving at him as she hurried away and disappeared into the crowd.
Viktor remained standing in the nearly empty hall, watching as the last students left the castle. Outside, snow had already begun to fall, and Hogwarts was transforming before his eyes, dressing up in festive attire. Garlands hung on the walls, and enormous Christmas trees, decorated with floating candles, stood in every alcove.
Nothing particularly noteworthy had happened recently. Viktor had been studying alchemy intensively. He spent whole days disappearing into the Room of Requirement, trying to create something new, but all his attempts were unsuccessful. He had learned to make ordinary magical items, such as protective amulets and offensive objects. But when he wanted to create something of his own, something unique, he failed. He lacked inspiration.
Watching Hermione leave, he felt someone tug on his sleeve. Viktor turned and saw his fellow Slytherin, George. The boy was clearly nervous.
— Viktor, — George whispered pleadingly, — can I go home too?
Viktor frowned.
— George, have you mastered Wingardium Leviosa?
Some time ago, Snape had called Viktor to his office and complained about the first-year Slytherin students who were falling behind. He asked Viktor to take charge of them, because, in his words, "his approach was more motivating than the teachers'." Viktor took the task very seriously. He gathered all the struggling students in an empty classroom, gave them an icy stare, and announced: "On weekends, we will meet here to study; I will personally conduct the lessons. Oh, and no one is going home for Christmas until they pass my tests in all subjects."
The lessons took place in tense silence. Viktor didn't explain things like a teacher. He walked between the rows, correcting mistakes with sharp, derogatory remarks.
— What is this? — he snarled, looking at a student's trembling hand as she tried to brew a potion. — What's wrong, Parkinson? Your hand should be as steady as a rock.
When one of the students couldn't make a quill move, Viktor snatched his wand with contempt and made the quill float.
— You're lazy, — he spat out. — You think I'm going to play games with you? Practice until you can do it, until you start to get it right.
The days dragged on agonizingly slowly. The students were afraid of him, but his methods worked. No one wanted to be stuck with him at school for the holidays, so they studied diligently day and night. One by one, they came to Viktor, demonstrated their progress, and received permission to leave. All except one.
George hesitated.
— I'm a little bit better...
Viktor took out his wand, holding it on his open palm.
— Show me.
George took out his wand, exhaled, aimed it at Viktor's palm, and, mustering his courage, waved it.
— Wingardium Leviosa!
Viktor's wand began to lift into the air, but after rising only a couple of inches, it trembled and fell back onto his palm with a dull thud.
Viktor looked at his palm and then up at George.
— That's it?
George sadly lowered his head, his shoulders drooping. He was about to return to the common room when Viktor exhaled deeply.
— Alright, — Viktor said. — I expect you to show me something better after the holidays.
George looked up in surprise.
— What?
— Merry Christmas, — Viktor continued. — Don't forget to practice at home.
A wide smile bloomed on George's face. He happily said:
— Viktor, thank you!
— Come on, go pack, or you'll miss the train.
George nodded and, without looking back, ran off.
The door to Snape's office burst open, and Viktor appeared in the doorway.
— Professor, have you ever tried to create a new potion?
Snape, who was sitting at his desk, looked at him sternly.
— How many times have I asked you to knock before entering my office, Mr. Moss?
Viktor sighed, walked out, and closed the door behind him. Then there was a knock. Before Snape could say "Enter," the door burst open again, and Viktor, walking in, asked:
— Well, can you answer now?
Snape just stared at him.
— What? — Viktor asked. — I knocked.
Snape sighed.
— What are you curious about?
Viktor came closer and asked again.
— As a master of potions... have you ever tried to create your own potion?
Snape leaned back in his chair.
— No, I haven't created my own potion. But I have improved and modified standard recipes. Knowledge isn't just about finding what's new; it's also about perfecting what's old.
Viktor exhaled, disappointed with the answer. Snape, who had been watching him, asked:
— Is this because of the alchemy books you've been reading so diligently?
Viktor nodded.
— Yes.
— Do I understand correctly, — Snape smiled, — you want to create your own alchemical item?
Viktor, noticing the mockery in his eyes, frowned.
— Professor, do you find this funny?
Snape stopped smiling.
— Mr. Moss, masters of alchemy have been studying their craft for thousands of years and have created countless items. Even Flamel, who lived for six hundred years, didn't add much that was new. And you, having just learned about alchemy a few months ago, think you can already create something? Here's my advice: instead of trying to invent something new, it's better to improve the old.
Viktor thought for a moment, then exhaled and said:
— I think I'll try. — He was about to leave when Snape stopped him.
— I see you've taken up alchemy very seriously. But what about Potions?
Viktor asked in surprise:
— What do you mean? I'm doing well in your subject.
— I want you to study Potions seriously, — Snape said calmly.
— You want me to? What about my opinion? — Viktor asked.
— It doesn't matter, — Snape replied. — Starting next semester, you will come to me every Saturday to learn a new potion. And for practice, you will brew me five potions that I specify.
Viktor sniffed and said:
— Smells like illegal child labor.
— In payment, you may use my ingredients, — Snape replied, pointing to the cabinets filled with rare ingredients.
Viktor thought about it. Potion knowledge wouldn't hurt him, and Snape was one of the best masters, who could teach him a lot. It was a good deal.
— I agree, — he nodded.
Leaving the office, Viktor went for a walk by the lake. He spent the entire evening there, watching the moon and the frozen trees. On his way to dinner, he saw the empty Great Hall. The enormous hall, once full of joyful laughter, was now deserted, and the sight brought a sense of melancholy to Viktor. He lost his appetite.
Muttering "Boring," he went to the Room of Requirement to hone his alchemy skills and try to improve something.
When the door behind him vanished without a sound, dissolving into the wall, Viktor was left alone. He approached the workbench, which, like all items in the Room of Requirement, had materialized the moment he thought of it.
— So what should I improve? — he mumbled to himself, running his hand over the clean, smooth surface.
He decided to start with protective amulets. Their main drawback, he believed, was that they were single-use. They worked on a simple principle: when a spell was cast on a wizard, the amulet would activate, creating a magical shield that blocked the impact. But after that, the shield would disappear, leaving the wizard defenseless. Viktor thought that instead of such a one-time shield, it would be better to create something more durable and long-lasting. He decided to replace the "Protego" charm with something more fundamental and reliable—a stone wall that could withstand more than one spell and give the wizard time to defend themselves.
He took out a clean piece of parchment, picked up a quill, and began to draw magical runes for the new charm. Finally, finished, he began to transfer the runes onto an amulet carved from moonstone. His concentration was absolute. He leaned over the table, the light from a floating sphere softly illuminating his face. His hand moved with precision and confidence, connecting lines and symbols into complex patterns. He worked very carefully, trying not to make the slightest mistake. Three hours passed unnoticed. Every stroke of the quill was precise, as if he were drawing on glass, not stone.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he nodded in satisfaction.
— Now let's see how it works, — he mumbled.
At that very moment, the Room of Requirement changed, turning into an improvised training ground. In the center stood a single mannequin, dressed in a tattered robe. Hanging the amulet on the mannequin, Viktor stepped back a few paces, raised his wand, and, focusing on the target, shouted:
— Reducto!
A bright flash shot from his wand. It flew towards the mannequin, leaving a trail behind it. And at the moment the spell was halfway there, a stone wall rose from the floor with a crash. But Viktor's joy didn't last long. While the wall was rising from the floor, the spell, flying at an incredible speed, managed to pass right over it and hit its target.
Looking at the wall, he saw no traces of an impact or a magical imprint. He walked around it and saw that the upper part of the mannequin had disappeared, as if sliced off by an invisible blade.
— Ha-ha... — Viktor laughed, and bitter disappointment echoed in his voice. — Instead of a shield, I created a monument...
He looked at the mannequin's remains once more. Exhaustion fell over him with renewed force. He realized that his charm was perfect, but he had failed to account for one of the most important factors—the speed of magic. He didn't know how to calculate the timing of the charm's activation, and so his brilliant idea had failed.
Shaking his head, Viktor decided he had had enough for one day. He needed time to analyze his mistake. He turned and headed for the exit. His well-deserved bed awaited him.