The Room of Requirement glowed warmly around them, its shelves heavy with tomes and its dueling platform humming faintly with magic. Victor had grown quiet, his gaze fixed on a book splayed open across his lap.
"Another mad project?" Albus asked dryly.
Victor's lips curved. "Not mad. Necessary." He tapped the page. "Protego. The most basic defense in our arsenal. Useful, yes, but fragile. A strong enough spell breaks it. A wide enough spell bypasses it. And Protego Totalum? Impressive in scale, but it's a wall — not something you can move with."
Madison tilted her head, intrigued. "So what are you thinking?"
Victor's eyes glinted. "A shield that isn't a wall, but a skin. Not something you raise in front of you, but something that coats you. Thin, invisible, unbreakable. It wouldn't block—it would deny. I'd call it Invulnerabilis."
Albus leaned forward, thoughtful. "Latin. Invulnerable. I like it. But you're talking about rewriting the rules of shielding magic. No wand movements, no dome — a barrier so close to the body it's like armor. That's more complex than Blink."
Victor's smile sharpened. "And that's why it's worth it."
Madison raised an eyebrow. "And you want us to help? A project like this will eat hours, weeks…"
"Yes," Victor said simply. "It will. But think of it — armor no spell can pierce. An answer to curses no one can deflect. A foundation for something greater."
Albus's grin was immediate, his ambition flaring to match Victor's. "I'm in. You know I can't resist building what no one else has dared."
Madison hesitated, then sighed, smiling despite herself. "I must be insane to agree with you two. But fine. I'll help. Someone has to make sure you don't set yourselves on fire."
Victor inclined his head. "Good. Then Invulnerabilis will be our first-year project. We'll research, test, refine. The Room gives us everything we need."
Madison smirked. "Everything except common sense."
Victor chuckled. "That's overrated."
Over the following days, their free hours fell into rhythm. After classes, meals, and study, the trio slipped away to the seventh floor. The Room adapted to their needs: diagrams sprawling across chalkboards, shelves brimming with defensive theory, runes scrawled in glowing ink above the dueling platform.
It wasn't easy. Their first attempts fizzled like weak Protegos, sparks dissolving before reaching skin. The runic frameworks Victor designed collapsed under their own weight, and Albus's experiments overloaded and burst into smoke.
But Madison, steady and clever, found ways to stabilize their failures — adjusting the rune sequences, grounding the excess magical current, patching gaps the boys had overlooked.
Teasing was constant.
"Careful, Victor," Maddie drawled one evening as his half-formed shield sputtered into ash, "you'll ruin your hair at this rate."
"Worried I won't look mignon anymore?" Victor countered smoothly.
Her cheeks warmed. "Espèce d'idiot…"
Albus groaned, burying his face in a book. "If the two of you ever stop flirting, we might actually invent something before graduation."
But beneath the teasing, the three of them worked with focus and fire. Invulnerabilis became their shared ambition, a secret quest known only to the Room and themselves.
By the end of the week, they hadn't perfected it — not even close — but the shape of it was there. A dream of an unbreakable shield. A goal to bind them through their first year.
And for Victor, it was more than research. It was proof. Blink had made him untouchable. But Invulnerabilis would make him unbreakable.
By their second week, a rhythm had settled in. Classes in the morning, study and meals in the afternoon, and then, once the castle grew quieter, Victor, Albus, and Madison slipped away to the Room of Requirement.
Inside, the space had become their second home — chalkboards covered in diagrams of rune sequences, a dueling platform that bore the marks of their experiments, and stacks of heavy tomes filled with defensive theory.
One evening, as the fire crackled low, Victor leaned back on the sofa and said, "You both want to grow faster?"
Albus raised an eyebrow. "Of course."
"Then listen. Magic is like muscle. Push it until exhaustion, and it will replenish stronger. Every night, before sleep, drain your core until it trembles, then let it refill."
Madison frowned. "That sounds… unhealthy."
Victor shook his head. "Not if you control it. I've done this since I was a child. It's why I can outlast others. If you both commit, your reserves will grow far beyond your peers."
Albus's expression lit with interest, already calculating the possibilities. Madison bit her lip, then sighed. "Fine. But if I collapse in class, I'm blaming you."
Victor smirked. "Deal."
That night, they tried it together. Albus pushed until his magic sputtered, leaving him pale but exhilarated. Madison surprised herself with her endurance, lasting longer than she thought possible.
When they finally slumped onto the cushions, drained but laughing, Victor knew the bond between them had deepened. They weren't just classmates anymore. They were allies.
But not everyone ignored their disappearances.
One evening, as they slipped toward the seventh floor, shadows detached from the wall. Four Slytherins — older, smirking — stepped forward.
"Well, well," one drawled. "The prodigies vanish again. What's your secret, Sinclair? Hiding sweets? Or sneaking off for something better?"
Albus's hand twitched toward his wand. Madison stiffened.
Victor only tilted his head, calm as ever. "Curiosity can be dangerous."
He brushed their minds — flimsy barriers, weak defenses. Illusions spilled forth: walls dripping shadows, eyes glowing red, phantom chains coiling around throats.
Fear crashed over the Slytherins. Their bravado shattered into whimpers and pale faces. Before they could speak, Victor reached deeper, plucking the memory of following them and discarding it like ash.
They staggered back, confused, and fled down the corridor.
When the silence settled, Madison turned on him, eyes wide. "Victor… how did you do that? You didn't cast a spell. They just—broke."
Victor hesitated, then answered evenly. "Because I'm a natural Legilimens. I can enter minds without wands or incantations. Thoughts, fears, memories… they're open to me unless someone knows Occlumency."
Albus studied him closely, but he already knew the truth from the summer. Madison, however, looked stunned.
"So all those times—" she began.
Victor's smirk returned, faint but sharp. "Yes. I hear more than most people want me to. Including you, Maddie."
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. "Espèce d'idiot," she muttered, covering her embarrassment with a glare.
Victor only leaned back, satisfied. Secrets shared bound them tighter — and this was one that would never leave the Room.
To Be Continued…