I've decided to change the dialogue formatting: now it's going to be em dashes instead of parentheses. Why didn't I change it in the previous chapters? I was just too lazy.
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Stepping away from the door, Viktor spoke thoughtfully without turning around.
— Tell the others: if they see or hear that Gemma is conspiring with other pure-bloods, they should report it to you immediately. I don't trust her much.
Daphne froze. Her heart clenched with anxiety. She thought deeply about something, then said quietly:
— I... I'll tell them.
Viktor sensed her hesitation and stopped. Without turning, he tilted his head to the side and asked:
— What's with the pause?
In response—complete silence. Viktor slowly turned around. He saw that Daphne was standing with her head bowed, her fists clenched, and her shoulders tense. He walked up to her, gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.
— Who are you? Where is my proud and brave Daphne?
Daphne hadn't been particularly afraid of him at first, thinking that his antics were temporary. But time passed, and he continued. Even Snape didn't stop him. Just now, because of him, the pure-blood faction, which had been deciding the fate of Slytherin since the school's founding, had been split right before her eyes. Daphne herself was supposed to join that group next year, but now she wasn't sure if that tradition would even survive.
— And what happened? — Viktor asked even more quietly, his voice softening.
Daphne took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
— Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle... they don't listen to me anymore, — her voice trembled. — The pure-bloods convinced them that you're nothing to be afraid of, and that they'll deal with you soon.
Viktor thought about it. Then a spark lit up in his eyes.
— Well, that's great. He's a plot character anyway. This is even better.
Daphne blinked in surprise.
— A plot character?
Viktor waved it off.
— Don't mind it. What about the others?
— They... they are still loyal to you, — she replied.
Viktor smiled.
— Still scared?
— Yes, but now they respect you, — Daphne answered.
Viktor wasn't surprised. He knew that at the top of the Slytherin hierarchy were the descendants of the most influential pure-blood families. They were too proud and domineering; they were more feared than respected.
— Okay, these are all trifles. I'm going to sleep, and I advise you to do the same. Tomorrow, unless something important happens, don't let anyone bother me.
Daphne nodded obediently.
— Okay.
Viktor turned and walked to his room. Daphne watched him until he disappeared around the corner, feeling the tension slide from her shoulders.
The next few days at school were quite calm. Viktor spent all his time studying alchemy; he didn't even let go of his books during classes. No one forbade him, because he handled every task better than anyone else. He wasn't just capable—he was a genius.
Transfigure a match into a needle? Here, take a golden needle with beautiful patterns. Perform "Lumos"? Get colorful glowing fairies dancing in the air. Brew a potion? Of course, here's a ready-made one, hot off the fire. And he did all this without letting go of yet another book on alchemy. During this time, he earned so many points for Slytherin as no one had earned for many years.
Gemma was quiet, although rumors reached him that the other pure-bloods were plotting something. Information reached Viktor very quickly, as his influence grew every day. First, almost all the half-bloods, tired of constant humiliation, joined him, and then those who realized that they would have to study with Viktor in the same school for a long time. They decided it was better to be friends with the new king of Slytherin than to be against him, because Viktor was quite harsh with his enemies.
One day, a fifth-year half-blood refused to obey an order from a pure-blood from the same year and ended up in the hospital wing with greatly enlarged front teeth. While the spell was being removed from him, he saw his abuser being carried in with multiple fractures. According to the official version, he "accidentally" jumped out of a third-floor window, but everyone understood perfectly well. Wasn't it strange: first you offend Viktor's person, and twenty minutes later you yourself jump out the window? Now it could be said with certainty that he controlled the entire 1st, 2nd, and 3rd years of Slytherin and almost all the half-bloods.
And so the last lesson on Halloween day arrived. Hermione was sitting next to Viktor as usual, and a little farther away were Ron and Harry.
Professor Flitwick announced that today they would be studying the Levitation Charm.
— Mr. Moss, please, — he said, addressing Viktor. Noticing that Viktor was bored in his classes, Flitwick began calling on Viktor as his assistant.
Viktor stepped forward, took out his wand, waved it, and said: "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feathers from the professor's desk rose into the air. They swirled, then arranged themselves into the graceful figure of a Chinese dragon, which flew over the students' heads, then scattered, and the feathers, like snowflakes, gently descended onto each desk.
Flitwick clapped his hands, his eyes shining.
— Excellent! As always, 10 points for Slytherin! — Then he began to explain the details of the spell.
The students began to try. Viktor and Flitwick walked between the rows, helping those who couldn't do it. Flitwick gave Hermione 5 points because she succeeded first after Viktor.
Viktor, who was near one of the Slytherins, gave him a light smack on the back of the head.
— See how my little Hermione did it? Now you repeat it.
The boy lowered his head. He couldn't understand why he was being compared to someone who wasn't even from his own house.
While he was trying unsuccessfully, Viktor noticed Hermione walk away from Ron with a pout. "So, everything is going according to the plot," he thought with impatience. "I hope the troll will be strong, not easy prey."
He looked at the Slytherin again.
— Well, did it work?
He shook his head.
— Why? — Viktor asked.
— I'm scared, — the boy whispered, not looking up.
— Scared of a feather? — Viktor raised an eyebrow.
— No, of you, — a Gryffindor next to him replied.
Viktor wanted to give him another smack on the head, but at that moment a loud bang was heard—Seamus had exploded his feather. Viktor looked at him and whispered with a smile: "Deidara would be proud of him," then wiped away an imaginary tear.
After class, Viktor went to the library to find another book on alchemy and read it until the evening. When it was time for dinner, he closed the book and left. He didn't go to the Great Hall with everyone else, but went straight to the girls' bathroom, knowing that Hermione should be there. He didn't want anything to happen to her, so he decided to meet the troll with her.
Without hesitation, Viktor opened the door and entered the girls' bathroom. Hearing sobs from one of the stalls, he approached, knocked, and said in a serious voice:
— Hello, shall we talk about God? I've come to tell you about our Savior Jesus.
The sobs ceased. Hermione's voice came from behind the door.
— Viktor, go away, this is the girls' bathroom! What are you doing here?
— Oh, little Hermione, — Viktor laughed, — you see, I'm at that age where I'm starting to get interested in the opposite sex, so I'm thinking about where I can drill a hole here, I want to make myself a glory hole. And what are you doing here? Why are you crying?
— I'm not crying, — Hermione snapped.
— You are too crying, — Viktor said, — you've already flooded the whole floor with tears. Tell me, who hurt my sweet little Hermione.
Hermione was silent. After a few seconds, she asked, her voice trembling with hurt.
— Viktor, am I weird?
Viktor raised an eyebrow in surprise.
— Why would you think that?
— Just, no one talks to me, — she replied quietly. — It was like that in primary school, and now it's happening again at Hogwarts.
Viktor snorted.
— No, Hermione, you're not weird. You're just smart, and they feel stupid next to you. You shouldn't be upset about that. You should be proud of yourself. You're not like everyone else. Look at me: I'm special, and I'm proud of it. And anyway, who needs stupid and useless friends? For us, fools are just tools. Stop crying, come out, tell me who hurt you, and I'll turn him into a platypus.
Hermione cautiously opened the door.
— You don't have to turn anyone... You're right, I'm just not like everyone else, I'm...
— Ahh, that's enough, I'm tired, — Viktor interrupted her. — Yes, you're smart. Now wash your face and let's go have dinner, because all this talking has made me hungry.
Hermione looked at him, her lips in a pout.
— Why do you ruin everything? You could have at least listened. God, you are insufferable.
She walked to the sink and started washing her face. When she finished, they walked into the corridor together.
Suddenly, a crash echoed from around the corner. Then another and another. The sound grew louder. Hermione grabbed Viktor's hand in fright.
— What is that? — she whispered.
Viktor looked at her and answered seriously.
— I told you I was hungry. It's probably my stomach rumbling.
Hermione stared at him as if he were a complete idiot.
At that moment, a huge troll came around the corner, dragging a massive club. Noticing the people, he stared in their direction. Hermione trembled. Viktor gently pushed her behind him, took out his wand, and looked at the troll with a bloodthirsty smile. Laughing loudly, he yelled:
— Finally, a worthy opponent! Our battle will be legendary!
The troll roared and rushed at them. Viktor wasted no time, waved his wand, and the floor in front of the troll turned into quicksand. The stupid troll didn't stop and stepped into it. He began to sink until he was waist-deep. Then the floor hardened again. Realizing he was stuck, the troll let go of his club and began pushing himself up with his hands, trying to get out. When he couldn't, he furiously began pounding the floor with his fists, causing cracks to appear.
Viktor looked at the troll, then his gaze fell on the club. He used his wand to summon it to himself. His eyes lit up, and he used Transfiguration to turn the club into a massive shuriken. With magic, he began to spin it above his palm. It's unclear when a Konoha headband appeared on his forehead, and three whiskers grew on each of his cheeks. Taking a fighting stance, he ran forward and shouted: "Rasenshuriken!" and threw the spinning shuriken at the troll.
The troll, hearing the cry, lifted his head and saw a flash of light. His body weakened. Slowly, his head began to slide off his shoulders until it fell to the ground with a dull thud. A fountain of blood erupted from the monster's neck. Seeing this scene, Hermione paled, shrieked, and ran back into the bathroom.
Blood splattered everywhere, and because the torso was tilted towards Viktor, a large main stream sprayed on him, completely covering him in crimson. Viktor wiped his face with his palm, smearing the warm, sticky troll blood across it. The smell was disgusting, but he only grimaced as if from a sour lemon. Silence reigned around them, broken only by the quiet dripping sound of blood from his robe. He looked at his hand, at the scarlet drops running onto the floor. "There really was too much blood in him," he thought. "Even for a troll." There was no remorse in his voice, only a slight disappointment. He had hoped for a more worthy opponent, but instead got a quick and messy victory. Looking at the fountain, which was already starting to quiet down, he said with a smile:
— The ending was beautiful though, like in the best Tarantino films.
Suddenly, footsteps were heard from behind. Viktor turned around. Harry and Ron, who were rushing to warn Hermione, froze in place. They saw a completely blood-soaked Viktor with a smile on his face. Behind him stood the massive half-body of the troll, from whose neck blood was still oozing. Seeing this scene and smelling the acrid stench, both Gryffindors began to vomit.
Viktor grimaced and turned away.
— Ugh, God, guys, you're so disgusting.
At that moment, a loud voice from McGonagall echoed down the corridor:
— In the name of Merlin, what is happening here?!
Behind her came Snape, Dumbledore, and Quirrell, who was looking at Viktor in confusion.
Snape asked sternly:
— Mr. Moss, please try to explain what happened here.
— What happened? — Viktor made a surprised face.
— Viktor, why are you covered in blood? — Snape's voice became even sterner.
Viktor adopted a bewildered expression.
— Oh, well, you see, I'm at that age where I'm starting to get interested in the opposite sex. Not finding anything erotic in the library, I decided to visit the girls' bathroom... — He hugged himself and shivered. — But I wish I hadn't, God, are there no tampons or pads in the wizarding world? There was so much blood in there! Professor, I was so scared.
Snape's eye began to twitch. McGonagall stood in complete shock, not knowing what to say. Dumbledore looked strangely at Hermione, who was cautiously peeking out of the bathroom.
— Viktor! The troll! — Snape yelled.
— The troll? — Viktor turned around and looked at the monster. — Ah, right! I remember! I killed the troll, and this is his blood on me.
Snape stared intently at Viktor. Realizing that getting the truth from him would not be easy, he said with resignation:
— Alright, Moss, go wash up and return to your room.
Viktor nodded.
— Okay. But first, I'm going to have dinner.
— No, you shouldn't be wandering around the school like that, — Snape replied.
Viktor looked at himself.
— Do I look weird?
— You look horrible, — Snape snapped.
...Viktor sighed sadly, turned, and walked away. As he passed the headless troll, he gave its head a powerful kick, venting his resentment over his interrupted dinner.
While the professors questioned the frightened Gryffindor trio, Viktor headed to his room. Upon entering the Slytherin common room, he heard a murmur of voices: students were loudly discussing how a troll could have gotten into the school. But as soon as he appeared in the doorway, all conversations instantly fell silent.
A chilling, oppressive aura radiated from him, and his blood-soaked body only enhanced its effect. No one dared to ask him questions; everyone in the common room felt that bothering him now would be equivalent to signing their own death warrant. They moved to the sides, giving him a clear path, and tried not to make a sound until he disappeared behind the door to the dorms.
After showering and changing, Viktor emerged from the bathroom, and his mood had noticeably improved. A luxurious dinner was waiting on his desk. A slight smile appeared on his face.
— Thank you, — he said quietly.