"Care to explain," Professor Minerva McGonagall asked coolly, "why the four of you are here instead of safely in your dormitories?"
The four first-years exchanged uneasy looks.
Harry stared at the floor.
Ron swallowed hard.
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again.
They all had reasons—none of them good.
Victor, meanwhile, tilted his head slightly, adopting an expression of wide-eyed innocence, one hand casually tucked behind his back, wand carefully hidden.
"Um," he said after a beat, "we got a little… lost?"
McGonagall's eyebrow twitched.
"And," Victor continued smoothly, smiling as if this were perfectly reasonable, "we somehow ended up here."
Silence followed.
Water dripped steadily from a broken pipe.
The unconscious troll snored faintly.
McGonagall looked from the soaked floor, to the shattered sinks, to the troll—then back to Victor.
"Lost," she repeated.
Her voice was very calm.
Which, as all of them would later agree, was far more terrifying than if she had shouted.
Footsteps echoed sharply from the corridor.
Professor Severus Snape swept into the bathroom, black robes billowing as usual. His eyes took in the unconscious troll, the wreckage, and the flooded floor in one swift glance—before settling squarely on Harry.
"What," Snape asked softly, "are you four doing here?" His gaze sharpened. "Do you have any idea what kind of situation this is?"
Victor didn't hesitate.
"I can explain," he said smoothly. "I had some trouble with my stomach—probably from overeating—so I came to the bathroom. These three followed me to warn me about the troll."
Clearly, the lost excuse hadn't worked on Professor McGonagall, and it certainly wouldn't work on Snape either—so he changed his story.
Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide.
Snape's expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked briefly to Victor, then back to Harry again, as if weighing the explanation against his own expectations.
"A touching display of concern," Snape said coolly. "How… fortunate."
"So," Professor McGonagall said, her sharp gaze moving over the four of them, "this was all… an accident? You simply ended up here?"
"Yes," Victor replied evenly.
There was a brief pause.
"Then," Professor Snape said slowly, eyes narrowing, "perhaps you would care to explain who defeated the troll."
Victor didn't hesitate.
"That would be me."
The bathroom went quiet.
Snape's expression shifted—just slightly. It wasn't quite approval, but it was close enough that Victor noticed it.
Professor McGonagall, however, looked alarmed.
"You?" she repeated. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to face a fully grown troll?"
Her tone wasn't angry now—just concerned.
"It's sheer luck that none of you were seriously hurt," Professor McGonagall continued, glancing around at the wreckage. "Another minute, another misstep, and I could have had four injured students sent straight to the infirmary."
She paused, then straightened.
"But," she said firmly, "since no one was harmed, I will let this pass. Do not ever repeat such recklessness. You should have alerted a teacher immediately."
The four nodded at once.
McGonagall's expression softened just a fraction. "Twenty points to Slytherin—for bravery," she said, her gaze resting briefly on Victor.
"However," she added, turning to the rest of them, "five points will be deducted from each of you for putting yourselves in danger."
"And," McGonagall finished, her voice gentler now, "while I do commend your loyalty and friendship in coming to warn one another… next time, you must trust the staff to handle such matters."
"Now, you four may go. Straight back to your dormitories."
The four of them didn't wait for a second invitation.
They turned and bolted down the corridor.
"Good thinking, Victor," Harry Potter said between breaths.
"I'm sorry," Hermione Granger added quickly, still shaken. "For all the trouble I caused."
Victor shook his head. "No," he said evenly. "There's someone else who should be sorry."
Ron slowed to a stop, breathing hard. For once, he didn't argue. He looked at Hermione, then at Victor.
"I'm… sorry," Ron said at last. "For saying those things."
Victor held his gaze for a moment, then nodded once. "Good. Don't do it again."
Hermione hesitated, then nodded as well, quietly accepting the apology.
***
The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with its usual breakfast noise.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry sat poking at his breakfast, twirling a piece of food around his fork without eating it.
Ron watched him for a moment, then shoved a plate closer. "Take a bit of toast, mate. Go on."
Hermione nodded firmly. "Ron's right, Harry. You're going to need your strength today."
"I'm not hungry," Harry muttered.
A shadow fell across the table.
Professor Severus Snape had stopped beside them, dark eyes glinting with something unpleasant.
"Good luck today, Potter," Snape said smoothly. "Then again, now that you've proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you." His lip curled slightly. "Even if it is against Slytherin."
He turned and strode away, limping slightly.
Harry frowned, watching him go. "That explains the blood."
Hermione blinked. "Blood?"
Harry leaned in, lowering his voice. "Last night—Snape must've let the troll in as a diversion, so he could try getting past the three-headed dog. But it didn't go well. He got bitten."
Ron's eyes widened. "That's why he's limping."
"So you think it was Snape who let the troll into Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, frowning. "But why would he do that?"
Harry lowered his voice. "Didn't I tell you? That three-headed dog we saw—it's guarding something. The thing Hagrid took from Gringotts. Snape must be after it."
Ron nodded eagerly now. "So he lets a troll loose as a diversion, tries to get past the dog, and ends up getting himself bitten."
"That's why he was injured," Harry finished. "He failed."
"Quite the theory you've put together," a voice said behind them.
They all turned.
Victor was standing there.
"You don't agree?" Harry asked at once.
Victor considered it for a moment. "I agree that someone wants whatever that dog is guarding," he said calmly. "I just don't think it's Snape. I can't imagine him doing something that sloppy."
"But that doesn't explain his leg," Harry pressed. "He was clearly injured."
"Well…" Victor began, then stopped himself. He chose not to finish the thought and simply took a seat. "Not everything has only one explanation."
Before Harry could argue further, a sharp screech cut through the hall.
Heads turned upward as an owl swooped down.
It was Hedwig.
She glided neatly toward the Gryffindor table, carrying a long, narrow parcel, and dropped it right in front of Harry before fluttering up to perch nearby.
Hermione blinked. "Bit early for mail, isn't it?"
Harry stared at the parcel. "But I—I never get mail."
Ron didn't bother waiting. "Open it!"
Harry carefully tore the paper away.
His eyes widened.
"It's a broomstick!"
Ron leaned closer, breathless. "That's not just any broomstick, Harry. That's a Nimbus 2000!"
Harry looked up in disbelief. "But who—?"
His gaze followed Ron's.
At the High Table, Professor McGonagall was gently stroking Hedwig's feathers. She glanced down, caught Harry's eye, and allowed herself a small, very satisfied smile.
Harry nodded back, stunned.
Victor watched the exchange and smiled faintly. "Looks like someone really wants you to win, Harry."
*****
A/N: 14 CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON
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