An hour after lunch, by Daphne's order, the entire faction gathered in full attendance in the classroom allocated to Victor for his extracurricular sessions. Victor lounged casually at the teacher's desk, watching the assembled students with amused curiosity, while Daphne stood beside him, intently scanning through some papers.
Each time she picked up another report, her strict gaze would latch onto one of the students. In response, they either sheepishly averted their eyes or looked at her with mute pleading, but Daphne remained unyielding, only occasionally making notes in her notebook.
When the last sheet was set aside, she let out a heavy sigh. Sensing that the trial was about to begin, Victor rose from his seat.
— Now then, Daphne, dear, announce the list of our troublemakers.
Daphne nodded and looked down at her notes:
— Thomas Whitaker. Caught sleeping during Defense Against the Dark Arts. Failed to name Professor Lockhart's favorite color, resulting in a ten-point loss for the house.
— Stop, stop, — Victor winced as if from a toothache. — Don't even mention Defense. Any points lost in that... carnival of the absurd, I excuse.
Daphne frowned in indignation:
— You could have told me that from the start! Do you know how much time I spent tracking down the records for his classes?
She began to furiously cross the names off the list. Most of the Slytherins breathed a visible sigh of relief and began to smile. Lockhart's tests had absolutely nothing to do with real magic, and nearly every one of them had managed to lose points there, much like the rest of the houses.
— Alright, moving on, — Daphne turned the page. — Henry Westwood. Messed up in Transfiguration: failed to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion. Minus five points.
— So, here is our first criminal. Henry, what do you have to say in your defense? We're listening.
The fourth-year stood up, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.
— Victor, I have no excuses. It just won't work, that's all. I can still turn a bird into a rodent, but living to inanimate—no way. Either the cushion sprouts legs and tries to run away, or a hedgehog's head comes poking out of the lace.
Victor nodded understandingly and, with a casual gesture, summoned one of the books resting on the edge of the desk.
— Well, we'll fix that. — In his hand, the book instantly transformed into a small hedgehog, which leaped down to the floor and scurried quickly toward the boy. Henry leaned over and gently picked the creature up.
— Thanks, — the boy nodded and sat back down, waiting for his instructions.
— Daphne, continue.
— Alice Penrose. Lost points in Muggle Studies.
— Muggle Studies? Seriously? Someone from Slytherin actually takes that? — Victor was genuinely surprised.
— Before, no one would have dared, — Daphne replied, continuing to methodically cross off the "victims" of Lockhart from the list. — But under your protection, many who wanted to learn more about Muggles chose this subject.
Victor nodded understandingly, his gaze, hidden behind his blindfold, settling on the student.
— Alice, please. Tell us, what exactly did you find so difficult in the Muggle world?
The third-year stood up, blushing furiously under the stares of her classmates. After a moment's hesitation, she resolutely hurried over to Victor and began whispering directly into his ear:
— Professor Burbage gave us a task: to properly put on Muggle clothing. I... I went to one of their fashion shows with my father once and saw what they wear. I created such an outfit for myself using Transfiguration, but when I decided to wear it, Mrs. Burbage was horrified. She yelled at me and took away points.
Victor raised an eyebrow in surprise and inquired in a matching whisper:
— And what kind of show exactly did your father take you to, Alice?
The girl lowered her head in embarrassment and murmured barely audibly:
— A swimsuit competition...
Victor froze for a moment, processing the information.
— So you wanted to... Wow. And you weren't ashamed at all? — Most wizards held quite conservative views and disapproved of exposing too much flesh.
— But those girls looked so bold on the runway! I just wanted to be like them...
Victor cleared his throat softly, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
— Well then, return to your seat. I think we can excuse this loss of points—for your exceptional boldness.
The girl nodded and hurried back, smiling. The other Slytherins watched her go with unconcealed curiosity, wondering what on earth she had whispered to Victor to make him pardon her so easily.
— Next.
Daphne nodded obediently, calling out the next name. After a while, she had read out the entire list she had managed to gather from the professors.
— Well then, — Victor said calmly, — and now, please, read the final name.
Daphne hesitated, shooting a frantic look at him:
— But... that's everyone. The list is empty.
Victor ignored her words, continuing to stand silently in place. His blindfold was turned right toward Daphne. Seeing that he wouldn't budge, Daphne sighed heavily and looked at her younger sister with a glimmer of hope.
— Astoria Greengrass. Lost a catastrophically large number of points in Herbology.
Without waiting for Victor to call on her, Astoria boldly stood up from her seat. Tossing her chin up, she challenged defiantly:
— I am a Greengrass. And I have no intention of rummaging around in dirt, manure, and worms! That is not work for me.
— Is that so? Well, I see, — Victor smiled, his smile pure and sunny. — Alright then, sit down.
Astoria hummed triumphantly, casting a smug look around at her peers. However, those who already knew Victor Moss well only shook their heads in pity. A whisper rippled through the rows—everyone froze in anticipation of the inevitable retribution. Daphne's face wore an anxious expression; she knew something terrible was about to happen.
Astoria gracefully sank back into her chair, continuing to smile exultantly until she noticed that the classroom... was getting taller. Casting a glance at the floor, she shrieked in terror: the stone tiles beneath her had vanished, and she was slowly sinking downward. Panicking, she tried to leap up, but some invisible force pinned her firmly to the chair. Once Astoria was submerged up to her waist, she finally saw what she was sinking into. It was foul, slimy earth, out of which hundreds of fat earthworms and slimy beetles were crawling.
She trembled all over, her aristocratic paleness replaced by an ashen, muddy hue.
— No, no, no! Sister, help me! — she screamed, looking at her older sister with desperate hope. But Daphne, clenching her jaw, simply turned away, ignoring her cries. This was a punishment, and even she could not interfere.
When the vile muck reached her chest, Astoria thrashed in convulsions trying to break free, but it was all in vain—Victor's magic held tight. Slimy creatures crawled over her body, sliding under her robes. The other students watched, holding their breath. The first-years, who were encountering such disciplinary methods for the first time, shook with fear. Ever since they had joined the faction, Victor had always been gentle with them, patiently explaining everything and acting like a caring older brother. Today, they saw the true face of their leader.
— Victor! Victor, I'm sorry! — she pleaded when only her head remained above the surface. She could feel something slimy crawling across her cheek, trying to burrow into her hair. — Please, no! I... I'll work! Please, pull me out! Ugh, please!
Suddenly, the sinking stopped. All the filth surrounding her instantly erupted into red flames, turned into crimson smoke, and vanished without a trace. Choking on her tears, Astoria began to rise slowly until the reality around her was restored. The stone floor was solid once more. Finding herself free, she jumped up, frantically tossing her hair and shaking out her robes, trying to rid herself of the creatures she felt were still crawling all over her. But she found nothing. It had been nothing more than an illusion. Yet the terror for her had been entirely real.
Victor walked slowly up to her, his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. The ring on his finger flashed dimly, and in that very second, a whole mountain of pots filled with some rare, thorny plants, thick gloves, and gardening tools materialized on her desk, while a sack of the foulest-smelling fertilizer appeared on the floor.
— Astoria, — Victor stopped in front of her, tilting his head. — I don't mind you showing your pride at all. Pride is a good thing for Slytherin. But here, in the faction, we are all brothers and sisters. And you are no better than the rest. — He reached out and gently wiped her tears away while the girl, still trembling slightly, stared at him in horror. — Remember that once and for all.
Then he turned back to the others and clapped his hands cheerfully, instantly dispelling the oppressive atmosphere in the classroom.
— Well then! Those who have not done any wrong are free to go, unless you have any questions for me. The rest of you, please—get to work, we don't have much time before dinner.
The classroom gradually filled with the rustle of robes and the scraping of chairs being pushed back. Daphne watched Astoria in silence: with obvious disgust, but with extreme caution—fearing to rouse Victor's anger—she slowly began to fertilize the plants.
Despite being given permission to leave, no one left the room. The students began to gather in groups: some practiced spells, others reviewed theory, and some simply settled into a corner with their homework. Victor walked slowly between the rows and stopped beside a little girl who, unlike everyone else, was wearing Ravenclaw robes. She sat in complete isolation, not knowing what she was supposed to do. He silently sank into the chair opposite her.
— Well, how are your successes? Is the magic obeying you? — he asked softly.
The girl looked up at him, gratitude shining in her eyes.
— Casting spells has become much easier. I can already replicate all the spells from the curriculum, but... it comes out much slower for me than for the others.
— Everything is fine, don't worry, — Victor smiled encouragingly. — Speed is something that comes with time. You just need to practice more until the magic inside you becomes as familiar a part of your body as a hand or a foot. You shouldn't have to think about how to cast a spell "properly." It should happen as naturally as breathing.
The girl nodded understandingly, completely spellbound by his voice.
— Well then, pull out your wand. Let's start small: ten Lumoses in a row, and you must hold each one for exactly one minute.
He placed an elegant hourglass in front of her. The girl obediently drew her wand and focused. Victor smiled at her once more and, without waiting for the first burst of light, headed toward the next student in need of his counsel.
Thus resumed Victor's extracurricular sessions, which hadn't been held for several months. For several hours straight, the classroom hummed with concentrated work; everyone was occupied with their own task. Time slipped away noticeably toward dinner, yet no one hurried to leave. The students gathered in a tight ring, holding their breath as they watched a single boy in the center of the circle.
— Come on, Henry, you can do it! We believe in you!
— The main thing is to focus. Don't overdo it.
— Just do it!
Henry took a deep breath, gathering his resolve, and flicked his wand sharply:
— Hystrifors!
The tip of his wand flared with a brilliant light. The hedgehog, which had been scurrying happily across the desk just moments before, began to shrink with a short squeak until it completely transformed into a soft cushion, thickly bristling with needles. Everyone froze. Victor walked slowly to the desk, reached out toward one of the needles, and carefully pulled it out. The cushion didn't even budge, remaining an inanimate object.
Victor gave a satisfied nod:
— This is a success.
— Hurrah!
— Henry, brilliant! You did it!
— A real man!
The classroom erupted into joyful cheers. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Henry smiled happily and offered everyone a playful, elegant bow.
— Alright, you little devils, that's enough for today, — Victor commanded, cutting through the noise. — Put everything back in its place and head down to dinner.
The Slytherins worked in unison to clean up, returning the tables and chairs to their places before streaming toward the exit.
— Victor! — George approached him.
— What is it?
— Since we're doing the extracurriculars again... — the boy looked around and, stepping in close, whispered conspiratorially: — Is Fight Club coming back too?
— Naturally. I do need to check just how lazy you've all gotten while I was busy with my own affairs, — Victor nodded.
He casually touched the pincushion, and it instantly turned back into a book, which flew obediently onto its shelf. George practically leaped with delight.
— Yes! Thanks, Victor. Please, don't disappear again. Without you, days at Hogwarts become unbearably boring.
Victor raised an eyebrow ironically:
— And you've grown bold, I see, deciding to tell me what to do? Now get lost, or I'll be your opponent in the first session!
George, grinning broadly, quickly vanished through the door. Victor merely shook his head, watching him go. Daphne stood beside him, observing the last of the departing students.
— They truly missed all of this, — she noted quietly.
— Hm. Children, through and through... The moment I step away for a bit, they sink into despair. God, I dread to think how they'll cry if I ever decide to leave school.