Sunday, as planned, turned into a massive photoshoot for Victor's faction. They occupied the entire castle: posing on the grand staircases, messing around in the inner courtyard, and staging dramatic group shots against the backdrops of the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake, and Hogwarts itself.
Colin Creevey, their official photographer, had stopped flinching at Victor's every glance by midday. His fear had been completely displaced by creative fervor. He darted around the group, picking the best angles, beaming so brightly he could have replaced his own flash. Colin was already calculating how many shots he'd have to develop tonight. For him, this wasn't just work; it was his favorite hobby, and he was thrilled to spend his day this way.
After dinner, as Victor's faction returned to the dungeons in high spirits, they stumbled upon a crowd of students filling the second-floor corridor. The air smelled of dampness and fear. Pushing his way forward, Victor instantly understood the cause of the commotion.
— I'll kill you! Do you hear me? I'LL KILL YOU! — Argus Filch, crazed with grief, was shaking Harry by his robes.
— Argus, stop this at once! What is going on here? — Dumbledore's voice, cutting through the silence, made everyone jump. But as soon as the Headmaster saw the blood-red inscription on the wall and the stiffened cat, his brows knitted together. — I must ask everyone to return to their dormitories immediately. Everyone, — he cast a heavy gaze at the Golden Trio, — except you three.
Once the students had cleared the corridor, Dumbledore approached Mrs. Norris and gently touched her frozen body.
— Argus, she is alive. But she has been struck by a powerful curse.
— Ha! I knew it! — Gilderoy Lockhart squeezed in between the professors, flashing a smile. — A pity I wasn't there. I know the counter-curse that would have saved her in a heartbeat!
The teachers exchanged telling glances but chose to remain silent. Dumbledore, continuing to examine the cat, shook his head:
— Alas, I do not know which curse this is exactly.
— Ask them! They did it! Did you see what's written on the wall?! — Filch jabbed a trembling finger toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione, his voice dripping with raw hatred.
— That's not true! We didn't touch the cat! — Harry shouted.
— I dare say these three were here by chance, — Snape said smoothly, stepping out of the shadows. His gaze was sharp as a scalpel. — Mr. Weasley was serving detention under my supervision and headed straight to the Hall afterward, though I did not observe Mr. Potter at dinner. Which is quite suspicious.
— I'm afraid I'm to blame for that, Severus! — Lockhart puffed out his chest self-importantly. — I detained Harry; he was helping me answer fan mail.
— Ha! So, only Hermione lacks an intro? — Victor said, having not left with the others, standing behind the professors. All eyes turned to him. He squinted mockingly. — Hermione, did you take out the cat?
— What? No! — Hermione threw her hands up in outrage. — When Ron and I didn't see Harry at dinner, we got seriously worried and went looking for him! It was already like this when we arrived!
— Mr. Moss, I believe the Headmaster made himself clear: everyone is to return to their common rooms, — Professor McGonagall clipped out, shooting Victor a piercing look over her glasses.
— What, me too?
— "Everyone" means "everyone."
Victor pouted and, spinning on his heel, sauntered toward the Slytherin dungeons.
— Well, right at the most interesting part, — he grumbled under his breath.
— Mr. Moss! — Lockhart suddenly spoke up, frowning. — I don't believe I've seen you in a single one of my classes this term. Care to explain yourself?
Victor didn't even turn around. He merely gave a lazy wave of his hand in farewell.
— Headmaster, did you see that? — Lockhart sputtered.
— Not now, Professor Lockhart, — Dumbledore interrupted him softly but firmly. His eyes were fixed on the frozen cat. — We have more serious problems at the moment. We are fortunate that Madam Sprout will soon have an excellent crop of Mandrakes. Once they reach maturity, we will prepare a potion and restore Mrs. Norris to life.
The Headmaster straightened up and scanned those present with a heavy, warning gaze:
— Until then, I strongly urge everyone to exercise extreme caution. Everyone without exception.
He emphasized the last words, looking directly into Harry's eyes.
When Victor crossed the threshold of the Slytherin common room, the hum of voices died down instantly. Dozens of eyes fixed on him with a silent question.
— Well? What happened there? — someone from the upper years shouted.
— Where is "there"? — Victor raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
— In the corridor.
— Oh, that... — Victor waved it off carelessly. — Someone cursed Filch's cat and wrote in blood on the wall that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again. I don't know the rest; McGonagall kicked me out.
A disappointed sigh swept through the common room, and the Slytherins began to drift apart, discussing what they had heard. Victor, shrugging, headed to his room. Daphne followed him and shut the door as soon as they were alone.
— Now, the truth, — she demanded, crossing her arms. — Those three from Gryffindor aren't guilty, are they?
Victor thought for a moment.
— Well, Potter and Weasley have an ironclad alibi, but Hermione... Who knows? The quiet bookworm type... I think those are exactly the kind of people who become psychopaths.
Daphne continued to stare at him with an expressionless gaze. Victor sighed:
— You're no fun at all. No, of course it wasn't them.
— You think it's one of ours? — she lowered her voice.
— No. I actually don't think it's a student. There's no one in this school brave or crazy enough to pull this off under Dumbledore's nose.
— Maybe someone put them up to it? — Daphne stepped closer, genuine alarm bleeding into her voice. — You need to be careful, Victor. Whoever did this is clearly set against all Muggle-borns. And you, being one of them in Slytherin—you could be a target if the Heir decides to "purge" the House.
Victor looked at her sincere, caring expression, and felt a strange warmth in his heart.
— Don't worry, I can take care of myself, — he smiled confidently.
— This isn't a joke! My mother told me that there is a monster in the Chamber of Secrets, and whoever opens it can control it. This isn't just a spell, Victor, it's an ancient beast.
— Ha-ha-ha! — Victor laughed. He stepped up almost flush against Daphne. — Remember this, dear: there is only one monster in this school. And right now, you are in a room with him.
Daphne froze, looking into his burning eyes, then shook her head tiredly.
— Just be careful, — she said quietly and left, leaving him in silence.
Victor waited for the lock to click, then flopped flat onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he broke into a grin.
— And there's the plot.
The next morning, Victor sat in the Headmaster's office. A heavy silence hung between them. They stared intently at one another until Victor broke the quiet.
— No, — he cut off flatly, leaning back in his chair.
— Victor, this is not a request, — Dumbledore folded his hands in a steeple. — You cannot simply ignore Professor Lockhart's classes.
— Why not? I think I'm doing a pretty good job of it.
— This year, I have approved practical lessons. There will be duels.
Victor raised an eyebrow ironically:
— And you think that will entice me? Who, in your opinion, could offer me any decent competition there? Second-years? Or perhaps Gilderoy himself will risk crossing wands with me?
Dumbledore sighed heavily.
— In that case, I have no choice. If you continue to skip, Lockhart will harass me with his complaints. From now on, for every missed class, Slytherin will lose one hundred points.
— What?! — Victor leaned forward. — That's robbery! How about one point?
— No. You'd earn one point back too quickly. ONE HUNDRED is just right.
— Damn... Fine, you win, — Victor rose reluctantly, conceding defeat.
— Wait, — Dumbledore gestured for him to stay. — There is something else I wish to discuss. Something more serious.
Victor slowly sank back into the chair.
— And what would that be?
— Yesterday's incident.
Victor was surprised by Dumbledore's somber tone; suspicions began to stir inside him.
— Wait... Are you serious? You seem... concerned. Isn't this part of your script?
Dumbledore slowly shook his head.
— No, not this time. I know the Chamber exists. I know who opened it last time. But now... I am in complete turmoil.
Victor froze. He had always assumed Dumbledore had the situation under total control. In the movie, after all, no one died, the phoenix arrived on time, and the Sword of Gryffindor practically jumped into Potter's hands... But now, looking into the Headmaster's eyes, he realized that wasn't the case. Dumbledore really was in turmoil.
Victor had no intention of revealing the truth about Riddle's diary. His knowledge of the future was his strongest advantage, and he wasn't about to change the plot.
— I want to ask you, Victor... Keep an eye on Slytherin. Report any oddities to me.
— Doesn't that seem a bit biased? Why Slytherin specifically?
— In the past, it was a Slytherin who found the way to open the Chamber. I am almost certain that Salazar's secret is hidden somewhere in your dungeons. And I fear that the history of the last time will repeat itself.
— Well, alright, I'll keep an eye on them, — Victor stood up. — If that's all, I'll be going. I have my first lesson with Professor McGonagall, and I don't want to annoy her so early in the morning.