Victor turned around slowly, a bright smile plastered on his face.
— How did you get past my anti-Apparition wards? Although... I can't feel them anymore. Did you just brute-force your way through?
Dumbledore didn't answer. He stepped closer to the edge of the excavated pit, his robes barely rustling. He looked at Victor with a stern, yet deeply saddened resolve.
— Victor, why did you do it?
— Do what? The pit? Was I supposed to ask for permission? — Victor asked, tilting his head slightly.
Dumbledore remained silent, his heavy gaze boring into the boy.
— Oh, I see. So you've already received my message. Quite fast. I thought I'd have at least another couple of days.
— Victor, enough. Answer the question!
— Why did I do it? — Victor scratched his head thoughtfully. — I don't know. I just wanted to do it.
Dumbledore let out a weary sigh.
— For an entire year, I watched you at school. And everything was... generally fine. How did this happen?
Victor shrugged.
— It all started when I was walking with Hermione in Diagon Alley and felt someone following us. I went to check, and when I came to, my hand was already covered in blood. And then... — Victor looked down at his hands. — Then I didn't even notice how I kept killing. It all happened so easily, so... casually.
Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was about to ask exactly how many lives Victor had taken, but realized he didn't want to know the terrible truth. What he had seen last night was already a heavy burden on his heart.
Victor calmly picked up a shovel leaning against the wall and continued leveling the edges of the pit.
— So? Is there an explainable reason for what's happening to me, or am I just insane?
Dumbledore watched him. Seeing the serenity with which Victor treated the murders, he took a deep breath.
— I should have told you everything from the start. It was a mistake to hide it. — Dumbledore made a long, heavy pause. — Victor, what do you know about an Obscurus?
Victor stopped, leaning on his shovel.
— An Obscurus is a young wizard who is forced to hide or suppress their powers. As a result, a parasitic cluster of dark magical energy forms inside them. — Victor's gaze pierced Dumbledore. — Are you saying an Obscurus formed inside me?
— No. It is no longer inside you, — Dumbledore replied firmly. — Your soul is so strong that instead of being consumed by the Obscurus... you consumed it yourself. That is where your resilient body and incredible amount of magical power come from.
Victor thoughtfully continued digging.
— I don't remember suppressing my magic.
— Of course you don't, — Dumbledore said softly. — You were very small. Why do you think the Death Eaters were so specifically interested in you? What makes you so unique?
Dumbledore took a step closer.
— After you were found, I thoroughly researched your past. I visited the orphanage where you spent your first two years, and I even found your parents. You were a child born to a Muggle family, but you possessed magical abilities from the cradle... Do you know why your parents gave you up? They were terrified when they saw your toys flying around the room. Not knowing what to do, they decided to give you to an orphanage. But you stood out there as well. You were two years old when you got angry one day and shattered every window in the building. That is how the Death Eaters found you.
Victor remembered none of this. He only recalled the first years of his life in fragments, brief flashbacks.
— Even in a wizarding family, to have a child manifest magic from infancy is phenomenally rare. Such children are capable of reaching incredible heights. History remembers only a few such cases—one of them being Ambrosius Merlin. — Dumbledore looked at Victor heavily. — Now imagine how much those "blood purists," the Death Eaters, hated your existence when they discovered your parents were mere Muggles.
— "Evil sorcerers"—that's what you said when you were found. I believe that because of their treatment, you began to view magic as something horrific and, without realizing it, you suppressed it. But the Obscurus never had time to fully form, because you were absorbing it instantly. — Dumbledore shook his head. — That is why you survived. No other child could have lived through three years of the subhuman conditions you grew up in. Because you pushed the magic away, you stopped absorbing it from the outside. But the energy that had already accumulated—you fully absorbed it into your body. Even I, when I came to check on you, didn't feel the slightest trace of magical power.
— And then I decided: I would erase all your memories so you could live as an ordinary Muggle child. But... I failed. Along with your body, your mind became so strong that even I could not pierce your defenses. So I left you in the asylum. It was the right thing to do. You were a strong boy. I believed that one day you would leave that place, start a family, and live a normal life. Imagine my astonishment when Minerva told me your name had suddenly appeared on the list of first-year students!
Victor smiled widely, his eyes burning with memories. He remembered perfectly the day he first felt the response of magic in his body. It happened when he was at his lowest point, so despondent that thoughts of suicide constantly weighed on his mind. That was when his "best friend" appeared—his savior, who made him realize his true nature: "Insane? So what's wrong with that? It just proves you're special."
— I wasn't that strong, — Victor muttered under his breath.
— What was that? — Dumbledore didn't catch the whisper.
Victor looked up, returning to his usual cheerful tone.
— I said, my life story is pretty cool! You could write a whole book about it.
— And that is all you have to say? — Dumbledore looked at him with sheer bewilderment.
— What else? It's working for me so far, — Victor shrugged.
Dumbledore shook his head slowly. Although he was used to the boy's quirks, Victor still managed to surprise him. He had expected any reaction: anger, tears, questions. He would have even accepted Victor screaming at him for leaving him in a psychiatric ward. But Victor just said, "Cool."
— Alright, we've cleared up my past. Now, what about my current condition?
— Yes, — Dumbledore nodded. — In history, there have been cases where children with relatively weak magical power managed to create an Obscurus, but it was weak and, as in your case, was consumed. Of course, this didn't happen without consequences. Since it is a cluster of pure dark energy, everyone shared one common trait: they became sensitive to dark wizards.
Dumbledore thoughtfully stroked his beard.
— Many years ago, an experiment was conducted where such a child unerringly pointed out wizards who had used an Unforgivable Curse even once in their lives. In your case, I believe you feel more. You sense the defiled soul itself, and the filthier and more corrupt it is, the stronger you feel it.
— And why do I want to... well, you know... — Victor ran a finger across his throat.
— Perhaps a side effect of absorbing the dark energy of an Obscurus, — Dumbledore answered firmly.
— Oh, I see. And how are we going to "cure" me?
Dumbledore looked at Victor sadly and shook his head.
— Forgive me, but you must come with me.
Victor smiled and nodded understandingly.
— I understand, Professor. Azkaban awaits. You're right, after all—I am a cold-blooded killer.
Dumbledore's heart sank.
— Haaa. A shame they won't be treating my "condition" there. — Victor smiled brightly. — I think I'd have been better off staying in the asylum. Maybe they would have helped me there. Instead, I was pulled into the world of magic, found my power, and then left unsupervised for a month and a half. In essence, I'm the victim. But who cares? Anyway, it doesn't matter now. I hope I'll be tasty enough for the Dementors. I wanted to be of some use, at least.
Dumbledore, who had already raised his hand to prepare for Apparition, froze. His face darkened. Victor was absolutely right. If he hadn't been pulled from the asylum, this wouldn't have happened. If Dumbledore hadn't allowed him unrestricted access to the Restricted Section, Victor wouldn't have gained so much power. If he had watched him closely, all of this could have been avoided.
And most importantly: if Dumbledore had taken Victor in years ago instead of leaving him in an orphanage, he wouldn't have turned out this way. But back then, the Director's attention was fixed on Harry Potter. He had been negligent. The boy needed help, not Azkaban.
Dumbledore slowly lowered his hand. Victor, meanwhile, clasped his hands behind his back and, smiling dazzlingly, said:
— Professor, I'm ready. We can go.
But Dumbledore shook his head firmly.
— You are a brilliant manipulator, Victor. Perhaps one day you will be even better than me. While I understand the game you are playing, you are right—I cannot do this to you.
— And what will we do?
— I have an idea. There is a man who knows more about this than I do. You will stay home for now. I will send someone to keep an unobtrusive eye on you.
— No need to watch me! I promise I'll hold back!
Dumbledore looked deep into his eyes.
— You intentionally left those twelve bodies so I could find you.
Victor nodded openly, without a shadow of remorse.
— That is good. It means you want to be helped.
Victor's mouth hung open in surprise.
— My God! The Director just praised me for a massacre! I'm so happy!
Dumbledore's eyes widened. He realized too late that his words could indeed be interpreted as encouragement. He shook his head heavily.
— Just try to do nothing for a few days. I will talk to my friend and come for you.
Victor nodded obediently.
— Don't worry, I'll be an absolute angel.
Dumbledore lingered, searching those shining eyes for even a hint of deceit, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He slowly faded into the air.
Victor watched him disappear and smiled contentedly.
— So, a strong soul... I wonder if it has something to do with my reincarnation? — he mused, but quickly brushed the thoughts aside and focused back on the pit.