Dumbledore looked at Viktor in surprise over his half-moon spectacles.
— Forgive me, Viktor, I don't quite understand.
Viktor stood completely calm, his arms crossed over his chest.
— I said: Slytherin won fairly, and they deserve the House Cup.
A benevolent smile appeared on Dumbledore's face.
— I understand, Viktor, and I completely agree with you... You are worried for them, but you shouldn't be so concerned. By the number of points, you are far ahead of the other Houses.
Viktor sighed heavily.
— I don't think you understood. I'll explain another way: Harry and his team certainly did well and deserve a reward, but we won fairly, and the House Cup belongs to us.
Dumbledore frowned. He couldn't understand how Viktor knew his plans. Was he that predictable? Or had Viktor discovered a gift for prophecy? The Headmaster looked at him closely, trying to read his intention.
— Viktor, you have definitely won, and we both know that. But I'm afraid this year must be yielded to Gryffindor.
Viktor smiled—a cold smile.
— Headmaster, I think Harry has gained enough self-confidence after defeating Quirrell. Taking second place will be quite enough for him... And we need the reward for our hard work.
Dumbledore's eyebrows lowered. His tone became firm.
— I have already made my decision, and you should not interfere. You are a smart boy, does it really concern you who wins?
Viktor's face became serious.
— You see, if you had asked me this before, I wouldn't have cared. But these guys earned it. They worked hard. And losing will sadden them, and as their leader, I cannot allow that. — Viktor glanced sharply at the massive clock on the wall. — I think it's time for us to go. Breakfast will start soon, and if I'm late, Daphne will complain again. In short, I didn't come to ask, but to warn: if my House does not receive the Cup it deserves, Hogwarts will burn with hellfire.
Having finished speaking, Viktor turned sharply toward the exit.
— Moss, is that a threat? — Dumbledore's voice held a shade of sharp interest.
— Yes, Ha-ha-ha-ha, — Viktor stepped onto the top step of the spiral staircase, which immediately began to descend with a loud clatter. When Viktor disappeared behind the stone base, silence reigned in the office.
Waiting for the sound of the rotating staircase to fade, the threatening expression on Dumbledore's face suddenly gave way to a broad, warm smile.
One of the portraits, Phineas Nigellus Black, an arrogant Slytherin in green velvet, snorted contemptuously:
— What is so amusing to you? A student threatens to burn the school right to your face!
Dumbledore looked at the painting and burst out laughing.
— What kind of Headmaster would I be if I took offense at a student's whims? And I was going to give the victory to Slytherin anyway. Perhaps at the beginning of the year, I did want Gryffindor to win with Harry, but as he said—they deserved it.
Another portrait—Armando Dippet, an old man with kind but stern eyes—asked in bewilderment:
— Then I don't understand why you didn't tell him immediately? Why this farce?
Still smiling, Dumbledore replied:
— I wanted to test his reaction.
— Reaction?
— Yes. I wanted to see how much he had changed. A boy who went to Slytherin only because he wouldn't be bored there, a loner who, on the very first day, forcefully suppressed and seized control of his year. And now, he's ready to fight me for them—even if he might not realize it himself, he has changed significantly.
Dilys Derwent, a woman with a wise look, looked at him warily:
— But are you not bothered that he is ready to drown the school in hellfire for them? Albus, that is no joke.
Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head.
— You shouldn't take his words seriously. I think he was not serious.
Phineas Nigellus Black and Armando Dippet exchanged glances. They doubted that Viktor's words were a joke. Given his character, he could very well carry out his threat.
— Well, it's time for the farewell breakfast. If I'm late, Minerva will complain again.
Viktor walked into the Great Hall. The hall buzzed with hundreds of student voices, anticipating the holidays. The tables were set with sumptuous dishes, but for Viktor, this clamor suddenly cut off.
— Mr. Moss, — a cold, drawn-out voice called out to him.
Turning around, he saw Snape, clad in his black robes, approaching the door. His gaze was focused and murderous.
— Good morning, Professor, — Viktor replied, slightly inclining his head. — How is your mood? Probably happy that the year is over and you will finally be rid of annoying students.
Snape came closer and stared at him silently, intently. The Professor's cold, searing gaze was so intense that Viktor had to make an effort not to look away. For the first time, he felt such a strong sense of discomfort.
— If you have something to say, say it quickly, — Viktor slightly shrugged his shoulders. — I feel like a girl about to be confessed to by a shy boy.
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched.
— Who gave you permission to bring alcohol into the school?
Viktor froze. For a brief moment, the noise of the Great Hall completely ceased while Viktor frantically processed the information. A rat? No, his Slytherins wouldn't betray him. That means it could only be... Gemma and her friends.
Snape leaned in a little closer, his voice quieter and more dangerous.
— You are incredibly lucky that the year is over. But it's nothing to worry about; we will meet again next year. And don't hope; my memory is excellent. I will not forget.
Having finished speaking, Snape strode to his seat at the faculty table, not granting Viktor a second glance.
Viktor watched him go. A dangerous, almost predatory smile stretched across his lips, which would have sent shivers down any Slytherin's spine. He whispered:
— You're right. They are lucky this year is over.
Finally sitting down at the Slytherin table, he began to survey the students.
Daphne, seeing his face, immediately knew something had happened.
— Viktor, is everything alright? — she asked very quietly.
Viktor looked at her, his smile widening further.
— No.
Hearing this one-word answer, she did not continue. She was not so foolish as to stick her head into the mouth of an angry lion.
Viktor continued to scan the Hall. His eyes stopped at the entrance door, where he finally saw his second, unintentional victim.
Gemma entered the Hall and immediately felt an icy chill. Looking around, she instantly spotted the smiling Viktor, who was drilling her with an intense, unblinking gaze. Every Slytherin knew that smile: it was a free but mandatory ticket to the Hospital Wing that couldn't be refused.
She gathered all her courage and sat directly opposite him, not touching her food.
— Viktor, — she began quietly, bowing her head. — I told them to keep quiet, but some just couldn't help but brag.
He didn't react at all, just continued to stare at her, smiling relentlessly.
Due to his frightening, ringing silence, Gemma started to panic. Her eyes darted to Daphne, seeking support, but she simply looked away.
— Viktor, say something, — Gemma whispered, unable to bear it, her voice trembling.
Viktor finally lowered his gaze to pick up a goblet of pumpkin juice.
— Gemma, it's better if those braggarts come to me themselves next school year. Don't make me look for the guilty parties. I'm not the best detective.
After that, he finally stopped looking at her, picked up his fork, and began calmly filling his plate.
Gemma sighed in relief. She understood his message: either she would send those bigmouths to him herself to apologize and receive their punishment, or Viktor would punish her entire faction indiscriminately. She did not want to start a war with him, understanding the consequences, and decided to hand over the braggarts. They were to blame for not being able to keep their mouths shut.
Finally, Dumbledore entered the Great Hall. His appearance instantly subdued all the noise. The entire Hall fell silent. Everyone awaited the announcement of the end of the school year. As for the House that won the Cup, they knew perfectly well how far ahead Slytherin was in points and considered the outcome already decided.
While everyone focused their attention on the Headmaster, Viktor continued to eat calmly, slowly spreading jam on his toast, as if the events had nothing to do with him.
Dumbledore raised his hands, calling for absolute silence, although the hall was already so quiet you could hear a fly.
— Another year has passed, — he began in his warm, yet booming voice. — And I must announce the results of our House Cup.
His gaze slowly swept across the Great Hall. The decorations on the ceiling and walls remained green and silver—Slytherin's colors, which they had held all year. Their banner shone beneath the ceiling.
— In fourth place, — Dumbledore continued, — is Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points.
Polite applause followed.
— In third place is Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two points.
They were supported by equally polite applause.
— In second place is Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six points.
The Ravenclaw table applauded themselves a little louder.
— And in first place, — Dumbledore paused, his blue eyes twinkling, — with seven hundred and fifteen points, is Slytherin!
A thunderous roar of approval and triumph erupted at the Slytherin table. Students leaped to their feet, banging on tables, pumping their fists. The victory was theirs! Pride shone on everyone's faces.
Viktor looked up from his plate. He raised his goblet towards his cheering Housemates.
Dumbledore gestured for silence, but he still had to raise his voice.
— Excellent! Excellent! — he exclaimed, smiling. — Nevertheless, the events that have taken place recently must be taken into account. And I have a few final points that must be added.
The entire Hall fell silent again. The Slytherins, still standing, looked at the Headmaster with suspicion. Viktor slowly set his goblet down on the table.
He covered his mouth with his fist and coughed loudly, deliberately sharply. At the moment of the cough, which echoed through the silent Hall, tongues of dark, inky flame burst from his mouth with a short, terrifying exhale, instantly vanishing into the air.
— I apologize, — Viktor's voice was impeccably polite. — I have heartburn. Please, continue, Headmaster, don't mind me.
Dumbledore looked at Viktor, and a smile bloomed on his face.
— First, Harry Potter. For his coolness and exceptional courage in the face of the enemy... I award one hundred and fifty points!
A burst of joyful shouts erupted at the Gryffindor table.
— Next, — Dumbledore continued, his eyes shining, — Ronald Weasley. For the best chess game in Hogwarts history... I award one hundred and twenty points!
Gryffindor roared again.
— And Hermione Granger. For the ability to use her mind, despite fire and danger... I award one hundred and twenty points!
Hermione blushed down to the roots of her hair, and Gryffindor applauded again.
Daphne, who was carefully counting the points, clenched her fists, her face strained.
— It's okay, — she said, looking at Viktor. — We're still ahead by thirteen points!
Dumbledore paused, surveying the Hall.
— And finally! One more person! — His voice was filled with special solemnity as he smiled and looked at Viktor again. — For his strength of spirit, capacity for self-sacrifice, and proven loyalty to his friends, which helped them pass through all obstacles, I award Neville Longbottom another sixty points!
The Gryffindors began to scream loudly and toss their hats. And the Slytherin table exploded with protests and outraged cries. Only Snape and Viktor remained calm, continuing to sit quietly.
— Viktor, we lost, — Daphne said sadly, barely audible through the noise.
He looked at her, finished chewing, and asked:
— Why do you think that?
Daphne raised her eyebrows in surprise.
— Gryffindor has overtaken us in points!
Viktor looked up at the ceiling and, raising a finger, pointed upward.
— But our banners are still on the ceiling, — he said calmly.
She looked up, and indeed, all the banners and ribbons adorning the Hall remained green and silver.
— Pay no mind, — Viktor dismissed it with a wave of his hand. — The old man just decided to tease me.
When the joyous Gryffindors finally calmed down, Dumbledore continued.
— And, of course, I could not fail to award extra points to our genius! To the one who, for the sake of his friends, was not afraid to fight a real Dark Wizard, to the one who defeated a troll in his first year, to the one who, for the first time in my memory, was exempted from all exams... Viktor Moss! I award him one thousand points!
Everyone was shocked by such a number of points. Even the teachers looked at Dumbledore in surprise.
— But, — Dumbledore continued, while complete silence hung in the Hall, — it must also be taken into account that he violated many school rules, so I am deducting nine hundred and fifty points from him! And that leaves only fifty points for SLYTHERIN! — After he finished speaking, Dumbledore began clapping his hands happily.
The others, finally recovering from the shock, also began to applaud. The Slytherins again began to chant his name, and some Gryffindors even started complaining.
Viktor looked at Dumbledore and, smiling, whispered:
— Fair enough. I shouldn't have threatened to burn the school down.
This was Dumbledore's revenge, for even Neville received more points than he did.
Daphne, who was sitting next to him and heard him perfectly, gasped in astonishment:
— You threatened the Headmaster that you would burn the school down?
He looked at her and smiled.
— Don't mind the little things. — Viktor took his goblet, stood up, raised it, and shouted. — TO SLYTHERIN'S VICTORY!
All the Slytherins stood up, raised their goblets, and began shouting: "To Victory!", "Hurrah!", "To Viktor!"