Victor, having already left the hospital wing, was walking slowly along the dark corridor. After moving a sufficient distance away, he removed the invisibility charms and smirked smugly.
— Well now, look what I saw, — he said loudly enough. — A house-elf of the Malfoy family cooing so tenderly with Harry Potter. I think Draco will be very interested to learn about his servant.
Before he could finish his sentence, Dobby appeared right in front of him with a loud pop. The elf collapsed to his knees and clutched his thin fingers convulsively into the hem of Victor's robe.
— Kind young master! Dobby begs you! — he wailed, choking on tears. — Do not tell the young master! If they find out, they will kill poor Dobby!
Victor looked down at the trembling creature and smiled:
— I don't know, Dobby. To me, Draco is simply obligated to be aware of your outings.
— No! Dobby begs you! — the elf sobbed even louder. — Please... Dobby will do anything! Anything the master wishes!
— Anything, you say? — Victor tilted his head to the side.
The elf suddenly went quiet. His saucer-like eyes widened; he slowly let go of the robe and slumped dismally onto the cold floor.
— Even this child... wants to torture Dobby... to use a poor elf for his own ends...
— Ha-ha-ha! — Victor laughed heartily, and the laughter echoed through the empty corridor. — Alright, don't mope. Get up. My request is not that complicated. Do it—and you can be free. I swear I will not bother you again, and Draco will not know about your night walks.
Dobby sniffled and rose cautiously, wiping his tears with a dirty pillowcase.
— What... what must Dobby do?
Victor lowered his voice:
— Oh, don't worry, for elf magic this is a mere trifle. Especially since you already have the experience. Listen carefully...
When Dumbledore entered his office, he found Victor, who was sitting in an armchair with an unperturbed look, sipping hot tea. A second cup was already steaming on the table.
— I've prepared some tea, — Victor said calmly, without turning around. — Sit down before it gets cold.
Dumbledore sank heavily into the chair opposite, closing his eyes for a moment.
— It was you who was in the ward, — he asked.
Victor nodded, looking at the dancing flames in the fireplace.
— Yes. I needed some outside help, and a suitable candidate just happened to be there.
— You mean the Malfoys' house-elf? — Dumbledore looked at him attentively over his half-moon spectacles.
— Oh, so you are aware.
— No one can Apparate into Hogwarts without my knowledge. Even house-elves. And why would you need the help of an elf?
— I have some suspicions, and I want to check them. I won't clog your head with it ahead of time, but if they are confirmed... this will become our shared problem. And you are already up to your neck in matters as it is.
Dumbledore peered into the student's face for a long time, but he did not pursue his questioning. He merely took a sip of tea.
— What do you think of the situation? — Victor broke the silence.
— It is all bad. I am glad Mr. Creevey is alive, but it only complicates the riddle.
— Do you think he was left specifically? — Victor narrowed his eyes. — Or maybe it's just luck?
Dumbledore sighed heavily:
— Salazar Slytherin had a pet that he raised himself. Ancient chronicles state that this very horror is hidden in the depths of the Chamber. It is a basilisk. A Great Serpent. If it truly wanted to kill, it would have done so instantly. If not with a deathly gaze, then with a drop of venom.
— So, you believe that the basilisk intentionally left the boy alive?
— Or it was ordered to.
— Dobby, that elf... he clearly knows something, — Victor said thoughtfully. — Otherwise, he wouldn't be so worried about Potter.
— Yes, but I fear without his master's permission, he will not breathe a word.
— Then we should put the master to the wall. Lucius Malfoy.
— It is not that simple, — Dumbledore chuckled sadly, and the smile was full of bitterness. — The Malfoys are lodged too deeply in the Ministry of Magic. Cornelius Fudge cherishes their support too much right now, and my relations with the Minister are, to put it mildly, strained. As soon as I put forward an accusation without proof, they will turn it all against me. And I cannot leave the school while the students are in danger.
— Yes, a dilemma...
At that moment, Dumbledore suddenly straightened up. His figure seemed to begin filling the entire space of the office, and a heavy, pulsing aura of the greatest wizard of the century spread through the air. The silver instruments on the shelves trembled slightly.
— I will find out who is behind this, — the Headmaster's voice became low and authoritative. — No matter the cost.
Victor, upon whom this pressure did not seem to act at all, clapped his hands nonchalantly and gave a thumbs-up.
— Powerful. Well said. Good luck with that.
Dumbledore looked at the calm Victor and only shook his head, extinguishing his aura.
— Don't you think it's time to return to the dormitory?
Victor glanced at the wall clock, which showed half-past two in the morning, and nodded.
— Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you for the tea. See you at breakfast.
Leaving Dumbledore's office, Victor was in no hurry to return to the dungeons. Deciding to take a stroll, he walked out into the courtyard. The sky was piercingly clear, and the full moon bathed the surroundings in such bright silver that the world seemed painted. Victor walked slowly, absorbing the blessed silence of the night with every cell of his being.
Reaching the Black Lake, he froze, looking at the scattering of stars trembling on the mirror-like surface of the water. Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward. Instead of falling through, his foot touched the surface softly, as if it were made of solid glass. He shifted his weight, placed his other foot down, and began walking confidently toward the center of the lake. Beneath each of his steps, thin, barely noticeable ripples spread across the water, distorting the reflection of the constellations.
Having moved a sufficient distance from the shore, he stopped. Behind his back, the water began to rise obediently, swirling into a spiral, and in the blink of an eye, it froze, turning into a monolithic ice throne. Victor sat down casually and closed his eyes.
The world around him became tangible. He felt the caress of the wind, heard the lazy movement of fish deep beneath his feet, and felt his own magic pulsing at the base of the throne, keeping it afloat. His heart began to slow down until it reached a calm, almost gentle rhythm. And then he asked himself the question that had become a ritual of every meditation: "Who am I?"
Perenelle was right—meditation worked wonders. Previously, he hadn't had time for soul-searching, but now he had a lot of time for reflection. In his past life, he had dreamed of worlds like "Naruto" or "One Piece," dreaming of power and adventure. Fate had thrown him into the world of Harry Potter. He was lucky enough to become a wizard. The beginning of his path in this reality was harsh, but now he was satisfied with everything. Yet—why him, specifically? What had he done to deserve this chance?
He had long decided that he was Victor Moss now. But could one just erase a past life? In childhood, his mind had resembled mush—the consciousness of an adult in the underdeveloped brain of an infant. Only within the walls of the clinic did he begin to piece himself together. He had accepted himself, but whom exactly?
Victor sat there for several hours until he suddenly threw his eyes open. He struck the armrest, and a small wave rippled across the lake.
— Ha-a-ah... how complicated everything is, — he exhaled, having calmed down. — A pile of thoughts, and not one to hold onto. If only I could sort them out...
Suddenly, a smile lit up his face. He put his finger to his temple and, as if pulling out a memory for a Pensieve, extracted a thin, glowing thread. Holding it on his palm, he lowered it into the dark water. From the depths, a watery silhouette began to rise, swiftly taking his shape. A second later, his exact copy stood before him, woven from lake moisture.
The watery Victor looked at the original with unconcealed disgust.
— How pathetic I am... Sitting here pondering nonsense. Is all this even important? I must stand up and stop whining! I am the new legend of this world! I am its new GOD, damn it!
Victor snapped his fingers lazily, and the water clone instantly exploded into a myriad of splashes.
— M-yeah, not the most successful thought I've dredged up, — he muttered, wiping droplets from his face. — But in some ways, this handsome guy is right.
He stood up, and the ice throne beneath him immediately began to settle into the water with a crunch.
— Time to wrap this up; my rear end is finally frozen solid.