Nicholas had sent a new letter, attempting to comfort him by writing that the artifact's adaptation could take much longer than initially expected. But Victor already felt it in the depths of his soul — the eyes had taken hold. They only lacked one final push, a tiny spark, to fully awaken.
Without even realizing it, he had practically barricaded himself in the Room of Requirement for several weeks. He hadn't left for days on end, training and meditating, even staying there to sleep. Adele and Luna dutifully brought him food and spent all their free time with him. It amused him that he was essentially fleeing the Slytherin dungeons. — Am I really afraid to go back because of Daphne? — he asked himself in the darkness. He hadn't been afraid of Quirrell or the Death Eaters, yet now he was faltering before one offended girl. Ridiculous. Stupid. — I'm just comfortable here, — he convinced himself, trying not to think of Greengrass's cold gaze.
When the weather finally warmed up, the day of the long-awaited Quidditch match arrived: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. While the whole school flocked to the stadium in joyful anticipation, Victor didn't care; he cast aside all stray thoughts and focused entirely on his eyes.
Sitting on a cushion in the lotus position, Victor snapped his eyelids open under the bandage. Silence.
— Nothing again... — He stood up, a faint smile on his face. — Well, at least give me a hint: how can I help you? What should I do? I can feel that you're ready. So why torture me? Having feasted on a piece of my soul, you could at least deign to work.
He let out a weary sigh, addressing the castle itself:
— Hey, Room of Requirement... Can you help me somehow?
At that very moment, a heavy, old book in a cracked leather binding literally dropped into his palm. Victor barely managed to catch it.
— Very witty. I appreciate your sense of humor, — he grumbled.
The situation was mocking. Thanks to his new perception, he could feel the physical volume of the book, the texture of the leather, and even see its outlines in space. But the text... the text was dead. The letters didn't move, made no sound, and possessed no aura of their own. To him, it was just a stack of paper with a faint scent of old ink and dust. He knew something was written on the pages, but it was impossible to read.
The door to the room opened silently. Victor snapped his head toward the sound.
— Adele? Luna? You're just in time. Would you read an interesting little thing to me?
— Daphne is looking for you all over the castle, — Adele said instead of a greeting, stepping closer.
— What? Daphne is looking for me? — He was genuinely surprised, a shadow of hope flickering in his voice. — You don't happen to know why she needs me, do you?
— She asked me to tell you... — the girl hesitated for a second. — Hermione. She's become a victim too. She's in the infirmary now, completely petrified.
Victor froze. A strange sensation washed over him: relief that Hermione was alive mixed with the bitter taste of disappointment. So, Daphne was only looking for him because of that...
— I see... Well, I'll have to visit her. But later. For now — the book. If you please.
Luna walked up briskly and took the tome from his hands. Adele frowned; she was struck by how calmly he took the news. She had thought he would rush to the infirmary immediately.
— I can't read this, — Luna said, puzzled, flipping through the yellowed pages. — There are some strange symbols here. They look like bird tracks in the sand.
Adele peeked over her shoulder out of curiosity.
— What language is this?
— I see... Darling, could I have a translator? — In Victor's other hand, a second volume materialized, heavier than the first. — Thank you.
Victor handed the book to his sister. Adele skimmed the table of contents, her eyebrows shooting up.
— Have you decided to learn Parseltongue?
— What? No, what makes you say that?
— But this is "A Beginner's Guide to Parseltongue."
Victor frowned. He abruptly tossed the translator aside, and two spheres of fierce flame erupted in his palms.
— I asked for help with my eyes! Why are you shoving this crap at me?! — He pulled back, ready to incinerate everything around him, but suddenly stopped. The fire began to slowly die down. — Then again... you're right. I don't even know what I need anymore. Sorry, — he addressed the empty walls, — I don't know what came over me.
A heavy silence hung in the room.
— Victor, — Adele gently touched his forearm. — You need to get some fresh air. You've started arguing with the architecture. That's a bad sign.
Victor pondered. Initially, he had planned to wait out the storm here in the safety of the Room of Requirement, but the sight of the mysterious book in Luna's hands ignited a spark of curiosity.
— Yes... perhaps you're right. A walk wouldn't hurt.
They walked leisurely through the corridors of Hogwarts. Luna was enthusiastically recounting the latest issue of The Quibbler, which claimed the current Minister of Magic had become a living nest for Umgubular Slashkilters. According to her, until he underwent a full purging procedure, all his decrees should be ignored — or better yet, a new Minister should be elected immediately. Victor held the girl's hand and listened with a smile, swaying slightly with each step.
When they reached the doors of the hospital wing, Victor stopped.
— I'll go the rest of the way alone. Wait for me here.
The girls nodded understandingly and stayed in the corridor.
Victor carefully entered the quiet ward and walked toward Hermione's bed. Feeling her presence, he sat on the edge, sensing the deathly chill radiating from her body.
— Rejoice, my sleeping beauty, your prince has arrived. Ha... well, right, you can't hear me, — he murmured into the void. — Actually, it's for the best; I needed someone to talk to. I tried discussing this with the clones, but there's little point: if I don't know the solution myself, they won't be able to suggest it either. — Victor sighed heavily. — It's sad that when I want to share something intimate, I have to wait for a moment when the listener is unable to hear me.
Victor chuckled sadly.
— You know, Hermione... one day I'll get tired of all this and tell everyone the truth. For example, I'll admit to you that I could have prevented all of this. I could have saved you from the basilisk, but I'm an egoist who puts his own interests above all else. But don't think I'm a completely heartless creature... I took precautions to make sure you stayed alive.
He went silent for a moment, then continued more quietly.
— And I also deeply offended Daphne. What happened? Well, I messed up. I was in a state of euphoria and kissed her. Then I said too much. It seems I should just leave it in the past, but it feels like a quiet life is making me soft. And that scares me.
He ran his hand over her frozen cheek, cold as marble.
— Sorry for dumping all this on you. You have enough problems of your own right now.
Smiling, he leaned close to her face.
— By the way, I've thought about it a long time and realized: if you had been there at that moment, I would have kissed you too. But since you were busy searching for the Chamber of Secrets all year, you missed your chance, — he whispered and touched his lips to her cheek.
As he stood up, his senses caught a scrap of paper clutched in her hand. He knew this page contained the description of the basilisk. A thoughtful expression appeared on his face.
— So, "A Beginner's Guide to Parseltongue"... I hope there's actually something worthwhile in that book, and that I didn't leave my fortress for nothing.
— Hermione! — Victor's sudden musings were interrupted by a desperate cry.
A breathless Ron burst into the ward, followed by Harry and Professor McGonagall. Seeing the figure by the bed, they froze for a second.
— Mr. Moss? You've already heard? — McGonagall caught her breath, looking at him. — I tried to find you to let you know, but it's as if you've vanished into thin air these last few days.
— Professor McGonagall. Ron, Harry, — Victor nodded politely as he stood up. A mask of calm sympathy was fixed on his face. — Yes, I was informed. I'm terribly sorry for poor Hermione. By the way, how are the mandrakes coming along?
— They are nearly mature, — the professor replied, casting a pained glance at the frozen girl. — Most likely, in a few weeks, we will finally be able to un-petrify everyone.
— That's encouraging. In that case, I'll leave you to it, — without another word or waiting for an answer, Victor headed for the exit, his cane tapping rhythmically against the stone floor.
— So, where to now? Back to the Room of Requirement? — Adele asked as soon as he stepped out of the infirmary.
Victor shook his head.
— Luna, give me that book.
— Here, catch, — Luna handed him the tome she was still carrying around.
— Thank you. I'll go alone from here. It's been a while since I had tea with the Headmaster; it's time to fix that.
— We'll walk you to the office, — Adele nodded.
— Thanks, darling, but no need, — Victor grew serious, an authoritative tone creeping into his voice. — Take Luna and go to the dorms. And under no circumstances are you to leave until morning. Do you understand me?
Adele was surprised by this sudden strictness, but sensing the confidence radiating from her brother, she nodded obediently.
When Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor common room, it was unusually quiet. Ron looked around nervously and, making sure no one was listening, leaned in close to his friend.
— Harry, I think it really is Victor after all, — he whispered barely audibly.
— Again? — Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses wearily. — Ron, we've discussed this a hundred times. It can't be him. The Heir has to be pure-blooded, and Victor...
— I don't care about his blood! — Ron interrupted. — Did you see his reaction in the ward? He stood there so calm, as if nothing bothered him at all. As if he just came to check on his handiwork.
— Well, even if that's true, why would he hurt Hermione? — Harry shook his head, refusing to believe it. — She's his friend.
— Maybe she found out too much? — Ron narrowed his eyes. — And remember the rumors from last year. Seeing how all of Slytherin trembles before him... That's not just gossip, Harry. He's a real monster if you cross him. I'm sure he's capable of any cruelty.
Harry frowned, feeling a growing anxiety within.
— I don't know, Ron. Don't forget, he helped us with Quirrell. Without him, we might not have survived at all.
— Harry, face the facts! The Chamber of Secrets was opened by the Heir of Slytherin. Victor is called the King of Slytherin. You really don't see a connection here?!
Harry sighed heavily, looking out the window at the darkening Forbidden Forest.
— Fine... On one hand, we have Victor, who's acting more and more suspicious. And on the other, we have Hagrid, who is clearly hiding something about the events from fifty years ago.
He nodded decisively, making up his mind.
— Alright. Tonight we'll put on the cloak, go to Hagrid's, and shake the truth out of him. And then we'll decide what to do about Victor.
Victor sat unperturbed in an armchair, enjoying his tea, while Dumbledore had been pacing the office with restless steps for several minutes.
— Let's assume we know everything about the basilisk, — the Headmaster said hollowly, stopping by the window and looking at the darkening grounds. — Но we still don't understand how it glides through the school so freely. Even I, being magically bonded to the castle, don't feel its presence at all.
— Well, it is the personal pet of Salazar Slytherin himself, — Victor took a small sip, savoring the drink. — It's likely the Founder concealed it with charms that protect it from the eyes of future headmasters.
Dumbledore finally sank heavily into the chair opposite him.
— Until we figure out how to find it... I'm afraid I have no choice. I will have to close the school. I no longer have the right to risk the lives of the students.
Suddenly the Headmaster straightened, his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles becoming sharp and piercing.
— We have guests.
— Shall I prepare another cup of tea? — Victor inquired.
— I'm afraid they aren't here for a tea party, — Dumbledore mused for a second. — It seems I will have to step away for a while. Victor, if I leave, the monster might grow bolder. If the opportunity arises — stop the basilisk. We already have everything we need. Fawkes, if you please, look after Harry.
The phoenix, having already grown its feathers after its recent rebirth, let out a sharp cry and vanished in a bright flash of fire. A few minutes later, the heavy thud of the rising staircase was heard behind the door. With a short gesture, Victor touched himself with his wand, and his figure instantly dissolved into the air.
— Cornelius? To what do I owe such a late visit? — Dumbledore met the Minister right at the entrance.
— Albus... Out of deep respect for your achievements, I came personally rather than sending a squad of Aurors, — Fudge's voice sounded strained. — I am duty-bound to detain Rubeus Hagrid.
— I am convinced that Hagrid is innocent, Cornelius.
— That is for the investigation to decide. Either Rubeus comes with me voluntarily, or we will be forced to use force.
— No force is necessary. I am sure Hagrid will understand. Come, I will escort you to him, — Dumbledore made an inviting gesture, and they left the office.
When the door closed, Victor reappeared in the armchair. He slowly picked up his cup and finished the dregs of the cooled tea.
— I have better things to do than catch snakes around the castle, — he muttered into the void. — Harry will manage on his own.
Victor took a deep breath, set the cup on the table, stood up, and left the office.