After an unsuccessful meditation at the lake, Victor headed to the Room of Requirement. He spent the rest of the night there and almost the entire next day—fortunately, his status as the top student allowed him to occasionally skip classes without too many questions asked. Victor was trying to recreate the perfect clone with the type of thinking and power he needed.
And so, after hundreds of attempts, he sat at the table opposite two of his copies. The three Victors watched each other in silence.
— Well? Who's thinking what? — he broke the silence.
— I want something sweet. And also—why am I wearing shoes? — the first copy spoke up. — We have good sneakers in our trunk.
— Right, that's clear with you. Although, I wouldn't say no to something sweet either, — Victor nodded and shifted his gaze to the other clone. — And you?
The second clone frowned; his gaze was heavier and more focused.
— The sensations are strange... when you address yourself as an outsider. It seems I managed to separate the streams of thought, but... — he mused, searching for words. — My structure is much denser than a normal illusion, but I only exist in your immediate vicinity. I need a way to increase that distance.
Victor sighed and closed his eyes in agreement.
— Agreed. So far it's a bit weak; we are still light-years away from Kage Bunshin no Jutsu.
— No, we're not! — the first clone jumped up. — The sneakers! Are they forbidden by school rules? Why am I still in shoes?!
The second clone shook his head wearily and tried to snap his fingers to dispel his "noisy" counterpart, but nothing happened. He looked at Victor.
— Please, get rid of him. He's only hindering the process.
Victor nodded, and the first copy began to slowly dissolve into the air.
— Thanks, — the second clone exhaled. — And one more thing: the clone is not capable of casting magic on its own. It lacks its own source.
— So far, it's just a projection of my thoughts, — Victor said thoughtfully, watching the double. — But to give them autonomy, I need to pour in more magic. What if I try integrating a piece of my soul…
— No! — the clone cut him off sharply. — Don't even think about it. Playing with souls is a slippery slope. Have you forgotten that it is the soul that determines magical potential? By dividing it, you risk weakening yourself.
Victor froze, studying his double intently. He listened to himself and realized that a silent struggle was indeed going on inside him: one part thirsted to try, the other was sounding the alarm.
— It seems you embody my rational side, — he muttered, feeling a strange warmth. — Instinct for self-preservation in its purest form. Funny to see it from the outside. And terrifying. I wonder if I would have come to such conclusions on my own, without your "interference"?
The clone smiled faintly, but his outlines began to flicker.
— Resources depleted. Too little magic was allocated to maintain my form… — the silhouette began to dissolve, turning into spectral mist.
Victor felt a sharp, pulsing pain behind his temples. He was drained to the limit, but a triumphant smile played on his lips. The first stage of cloning had gone quite successfully. Now, when doubts began to tear him apart, he would be able to literally sit them down at a negotiation table.
However, his smile suddenly faltered.
— But still… why do they always turn out so different? — Victor frowned, and an icy calm washed over him. — Am I really developing bipolar disorder?
Memories of the gray walls of the clinic and the silhouette of his first psychologist, who had once diagnosed him with this, surfaced in his head. Victor leaned wearily against the back of the bench, and his face was twisted by a bitter, almost painful grimace. Thoughts of the asylum involuntarily pulled along memories of his very first, still unconscious projection, created back in those days when the line between reality and madness was fading away completely.
— Second... — he whispered softly into the void. — If only you knew how much I miss you sometimes. Now I can stamp out dozens of such clones, but none of them can replace you. Sometimes I think: is this split personality really so bad? Maybe we should have left everything as it was? We would have learned to live with it. One day you control the body, the next—I do. We would have managed.
Victor stood up, and the tables in the Room of Requirement began to slowly dissolve, obeying his desire. Suddenly, a glowing figure formed right in front of him. It was his copy, but younger—with long hair and that same bright, sincere smile. This was Victor No. 2—that was exactly how he was imprinted in his memory. The phantom waved his hand cheerfully, just like then, energetic and merry.
Victor's heart skipped a beat. He reached out involuntarily, and the copy mirrored his gesture. But the moment their fingers almost touched, Victor's palm passed through the freezing air. The glowing silhouette flickered, rippled, and began to melt, scattering into silent sparks.
— Ha-ah... — Victor sighed heavily, looking at his empty palms. — I think I'm becoming too sentimental. That's a bad sign.
Suddenly, a door began to emerge in the wall, and in the corner of the room, obeying the will of those entering, a long table filled with cauldrons materialized.
— Just don't start again about your imaginary creatures! — an angry Adele burst into the Room of Requirement. — Oh, Victor! At least you talk some sense into this fool.
Victor raised an eyebrow in surprise, seeing Luna, who was following his sister serenely, as if not noticing the latter's storm of feelings.
— Luna? What happened?
— Adele got into an argument with the girls again because of me, — Luna answered in a quiet, singing voice. — I'm explaining to her that they aren't to blame. It's all the Nargles playing tricks.
— What kind of Nargles?! — Adele shouted irritably. She approached the table and, with a sharp flick of her wand, lit the fire under the cauldron. — Those bitches just won't leave you alone!
— You call me stupid, but you are the one who is even more mistaken, — Luna gently objected. — It says clearly in The Quibbler that Nargles are most active this year and steal things from wizards much more often than usual.
— Well, see? — Adele looked at her brother wearily, hoping for support. — Explain to her, please, that Nargles don't exist.
Victor thoughtfully shifted his gaze from his furious sister to the calm Luna.
— Well... I wouldn't be so categorical, — he said with a slight half-smile. — The world of magic is extremely unpredictable. Who knows how many creatures are hiding from our gaze right now?
— See! I told you! — Luna nodded triumphantly. She approached Victor, stood next to him, and, funnily copying his pose, crossed her arms on her chest, looking down at Adele.
Victor smiled gently and patted Luna on the head, smoothing her disheveled hair.
— And yet, Luna, Adele is right. Your classmates are bullying you.
Luna raised her large, dreamy eyes at him.
— Why? I didn't do anything bad to them.
At that moment, the ladle in Adele's hand trembled and fell to the stone floor with a clang.
— I've been telling you that since this morning! — she exclaimed, gasping with indignation. — And the moment he says it just once, you don't even try to argue?
— Well... it's Victor, — Luna simply answered, shrugging. — I trust him.
Adele froze. The air around her began to vibrate noticeably, and such a frightening and oppressive aura began to radiate from the fragile figure that even the fire under the cauldron dimmed.
— So you don't believe me?! — Adele's voice became suspiciously quiet. — You know, Luna, even though you are my closest and only friend... I currently have an insane urge to hit you.
Luna instantly hid behind Victor's back, using him as a human shield.
— Victor, help! I think Adele has gone berserk.
Victor laughed heartily, watching this scene.
— Alright, Adele, cool off. Don't be angry at her, — he approached his sister and hugged her tightly, extinguishing her rage with his calm. — Better tell me, what potion are you planning to brew?
Adele gradually cooled down and took a deep breath, pressing closer to her brother for a moment.
— I'm going to prepare an Obliviating Potion, — she grumbled, returning to the table.
— Oh, already mastering the third-year curriculum? Well, that's commendable. I think Snape will be delighted, — Victor stroked her head affectionately one more time and stepped aside so as not to hinder the process. A soft, comfortable sofa appeared right in front of him, into which he sank with pleasure.
While Adele was focused on preparing ingredients, Luna walked quietly over to Victor and sat down nearby. For a while, she silently watched her friend bustling about the cauldron with a very serious and thoughtful face. Finally, she turned to Victor.
— What should I do? — she whispered.
— In what sense? — he didn't understand. — With what?
— With the girls from my house.
— Ah, that... — Victor nodded understandingly. — Do nothing. My sister will handle everything herself; you just need to stay close to her.
— But they will all hate her because of me, — a sadness uncharacteristic of her slipped into Luna's voice.
Victor looked at her in surprise, then shifted his gaze to Adele. She, humming something under her breath, was stirring the potion with obvious pleasure, and a happy smile played on her face.
— I think she couldn't care less about them, — he turned back to Luna and smiled warmly. — Listen, Luna, I am very grateful to you. Thanks to you, Adele has become... alive. Before, she was like that only with me. I was very afraid she would stay alone, but you managed to find the key to her. Probably because you both are "special." Believe me, if she is forced to choose: the whole house or you, she will choose you without a second thought.
— But then she won't be able to make other friends.
— And what's wrong with that? — Victor laughed softly. — Personally, I'd rather have one true, real friend than a hundred fake acquaintances. — He cast a mischievous glance at his sister. — Plus, with her character... honestly, it's unlikely she'll even want to be friends with any of them.
Luna thought for a moment and nodded slowly—her friend's character was indeed not the easiest.
— And yet, I don't want her to always be defending me, — she added quietly.
Victor's eyes flashed slyly. He leaned closer.
— In that case, Luna, you should prove to them yourself that messing with you is going to cost them.
— But how? — Luna raised her clear, naive eyes at him.
Victor smirked. He leaned toward her ear and, in a conspiratorial whisper, began to explain something. Luna listened attentively without interrupting, nodding her head seriously until a responsive, completely uncharacteristic spark began to light up in her eyes.
The next morning, an incident occurred at Ravenclaw: three students were sent to the hospital wing in tears. Upon waking, they discovered their skin had started turning green. First, some spots appeared, then they began to spread until they covered their entire bodies. Madam Pomfrey was in confusion—she had never seen anything like it and did not understand how to treat it.
When the rumors reached Victor, he smiled and, sitting at the table, looked at Luna. She smiled brightly back at him. Victor raised a finger and held it to his lips, hinting that she should stay silent now. Luna nodded and repeated his gesture. She looked so cute that he couldn't help it and burst out laughing.
— What's with you? — Daphne asked in surprise.
— Mm, what do you mean?
— Well, you suddenly started laughing for no reason.
Victor looked into her eyes.
— So what? This is normal behavior for me, — he answered, smiling.
Daphne thought for a moment, narrowed her eyes, but ended up nodding. She had long realized that looking for logic in Victor's behavior was a meaningless exercise.
Victor focused back on his breakfast and started thinking about how many days to keep the girls in the hospital wing. He understood: until they found an antidote, weeks would pass. And even for that, they would have to find a good alchemist, because the enchanted quill he had given Luna was one of his failed inventions. Outwardly—the most ordinary quill, but the moment it touched skin, it would start changing color. To reverse the process, one had to touch the very base of the quill.
— Are you staying for the holidays again? — Daphne asked, distracting him from his thoughts.
— No, I think I'll go away this year. I missed my grandmother, — Victor smiled in anticipation.
Daphne nodded.
— Those who stay will be disappointed. Last year you brightened up their holidays wonderfully. By the way, Hermione said she isn't going anywhere.
— Yes, I know, she has things to do, — Victor nodded, poking at his plate with a fork.
— So you're aware that she's brewing a potion right in the restroom?
Now it was Victor's turn to be genuinely surprised. He even pushed his mug aside.
— I'm not only aware, I'm also sponsoring her with ingredients. But the fact that she showed that to you... that surprises me. Did she explain why she's brewing Polyjuice Potion?
Daphne nodded.
— And what do you think about that?
— I don't think Draco is involved in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets—he's too stupid for that, but he could very well be acting on someone else's orders, perhaps even his father's. Lucius is an incredibly cunning and treacherous wizard. In short, I don't mind if he's checked out.
Victor nodded and looked at Astoria, who was sitting quietly near her sister, diligently examining her plate.
— Little one, did you hear everything? Now, try very hard to forget this conversation.
Astoria drew her head into her shoulders and pressed closer to Daphne.
— Don't worry, she won't tell anyone, — Daphne hugged her. — You won't tell anyone, will you?
Astoria shook her head vigorously. Victor smirked.
— By the way, kid, tell... damn, forgot the name... in short, the guy from your year who failed Transfiguration: if he had plans to go home—let him forget it. Until he personally turns a match into a needle in front of me, he's not leaving the school. Let him come to me; I'll take care of his training.
— Did Professor McGonagall complain?
Victor sighed wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
— Yes, she called me this morning. Although I think that was just a pretext just to talk to me. She nearly forced me to take a couple of Gryffindor students into our extracurricular group.
— Did you refuse?
Victor nodded.
— I already spend a ton of time helping our graduates catch up. Sometimes they ask questions that are hard even for me to answer, but at least I'm learning together with them. And if the number of those attending the group increases—I think even I will burn out.
— It's your own fault for getting involved in this. Now even Professor Flitwick approached me with a request to take one student to us.
— A Ravenclaw? I thought they were all smart and clever there, — he was surprised.
— It seems she has problems using magic.
— Oh, right, I think he did mention something about that to me, but it somehow slipped my mind.
— That's exactly why he approached me.
Victor thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table.
— Remind me after the holidays. Anyway, I'm full, — he easily got up from the table, adjusting his robe. — What is our first class?
— Herbology.
Victor nodded and winked at her:
— Good, I'll be waiting for you in the greenhouse.