In the morning, around six o'clock, while the students of Hogwarts were still immersed in sleep or, being early birds, were just waking up, the entire Slytherin House was already standing outside. Victor, dressed in sneakers, sweatpants, and a black tank top, took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp morning air.
— Ah, what a beautiful morning, isn't it? Thank you all for coming out so promptly.
The Slytherins began to glance at each other sullenly. What choice did they have? Victor had burst into their dormitories, shouting at the top of his lungs to wake everyone up, and those who ignored him and tried to sleep on were simply thrown out of their beds.
— It's a pity this brilliant idea only crossed my mind yesterday. But no matter, we still have a few years ahead of us. Listen up, everyone: from today on, wake-up call is at 6:00 AM for everyone, and at 7:00 AM on weekends. In clear weather, we come out here; if it starts raining or gets too cold, you gather in my hall. Starting next year, appropriate sportswear is mandatory for everyone.
Daphne sleepily raised her hand.
— Yes, my dear, ask away.
— Why exactly are we doing all this? — she voiced the question that was written on every single face.
— Because your current lifestyle is utterly unacceptable. You get up, you eat, you sit through classes, you eat again, you laze around, and you go to sleep. Enough. From now on, the girls will be fit and beautiful, and the boys will be strong and resilient.
— And won't we become handsome? — a boy from the crowd asked.
Victor merely shrugged.
— Alas, what is not given cannot be taken. It seems the entire beauty quota for the guys of this world was spent on me alone. But don't be discouraged: girls only look at appearances in the beginning, but later on, they begin to appreciate reliable and strong men.
Victor walked over to his magical speaker and pressed play, turning on the music.
— Now, you little demons, line up into four ranks, quick! Distance — an arm's length apart from one another. Listen to me carefully: any physical exertion begins with a warm-up. And remember: a healthy mind in a healthy body!
To the sound of upbeat, rhythmic music, Victor began the workout. First came standard neck, shoulder, and hip rotations to warm up the joints, followed by light jogging in place with a sharp transition into Jumping Jacks. A series of push-ups and squats followed to tone the muscles, and the "dessert" was a cross-country run around the stadium.
Watching the students drag themselves back, barely able to move their legs from exhaustion, Victor sighed in disappointment. However, there was one person who made him raise an eyebrow in surprise. William Brown — the very guy who had been sent to spy on him — crossed the finish line first and now stood nearby, not even out of breath. There wasn't a single drop of sweat on his face, as if this exertion were no more difficult for him than a casual stroll.
When the last exhausted students finally crossed the finish line and collapsed onto the grass, Victor turned off the music.
— Well, just as I expected: your physical condition is as bad as it gets. Just a bunch of weaklings, — Victor's voice echoed over the quiet field. — With rare exceptions. Take Brown here, for example. A real man. It's clear he actually cares about his body. Well done, at least someone made me happy today.
Victor glanced over the Slytherins lying on the ground and shook his head.
— But alright, for the first time, it'll do. Now — off to the showers, and get ready for breakfast and classes!
While Victor was putting the speakers away into his dimensional ring, Gemma approached him. She was lightly sweating, and clear anxiety was written on her face.
— Victor, isn't this a bit much? We might be seen.
To witches and wizards who were used to relying on magic to build endurance, such exercises seemed ridiculous. She was afraid that people would laugh at Slytherin.
— It's nothing to worry about. At least you'll all be healthy. For your information, Muggles start doing physical exercises in kindergarten, which means from three or four years old; are we any worse? Trust me, I'm doing this for your own good, and those who want to become Aurors will thank me later.
Gemma still looked uncertain, but Victor didn't give a damn about that.
— By the way, Gemma. Memorize everything we did today. If one day I am unable to conduct the morning workout, it will fall on your shoulders. And if I find out that you skipped it... I will compensate for it with a whole day of special training. I will run the entire house until you don't even have the strength left to crawl back to the common room.
Victor hid the speaker inside the ring and turned to face her.
— Do you understand me?
Gemma could only nod heavily.
— I understand, — she replied aloud, remembering that because of his blindfold, he might not see her nod.
— Good. You're dismissed.
Daphne watched the departing Gemma and fell into step beside Victor, who was leisurely heading toward the castle.
— Don't you think you went a bit overboard? — she asked quietly. — No matter how you look at it, she is our Prefect.
— You know I don't give a damn about that, — Victor replied calmly. — And by the way, pass it on to the rest: one more disgraceful loss like yesterday, and I will personally strangle every single one of you. Since we proudly call ourselves the best house, let them live up to that status, and not just in words.
Daphne nodded understandingly.
— Are we going to take revenge on the Gryffindors?
— No.
— But they won't give us any peace now! They'll mock us.
— A defeat is a defeat, Daphne. They earned the right to their triumph. Let them mock us — there isn't long left until the end of the year. This will be a good lesson for all of Slytherin. They won't want to embarrass themselves again.
Daphne nodded again, accepting his logic.
— By the way, aren't you curious about what started it all yesterday?
— And what did start it? — Victor asked.
— Because of you and Harry. Gryffindor is trumpeting at every corner that Potter defeated the monster in the Chamber of Secrets. Our lot, however, claim that you were the hero.
Victor was surprised.
— Where on earth did they get that from? I wasn't anywhere near there.
— It's probably because you disappeared for a long time and only showed up when it was all over. Everyone assumed you were hunting the monster the whole time, like you were avenging Hermione.
Victor just shook his head. When they crossed the threshold of the school, Daphne couldn't help but ask in a whisper:
— But honestly... who actually opened the Chamber of Secrets?
— Voldemort, — Victor replied calmly, without a hint of irony.
Daphne rolled her eyes and scoffed.
— Well, of course. And Merlin probably personally finished off the monster. If you don't want to tell me, fine, but why lie?
Victor merely shrugged, seeing no point in explaining anything. At the fork, he suddenly turned in the direction opposite to the dungeons.
— Hey, Slytherin is the other way! — Daphne called out to him.
— The petrified students should be cured soon, — he threw over his shoulder without turning around. — I'm going to the Hospital Wing to see Hermione.
Daphne watched his retreating back until someone tugged hard at her robes.
— Finally, he's gone... — Astoria, looking as if she had just survived an encounter with a dragon, looked at her sister pitifully. — Daphnee, carry me to the dormitory... I'm going to die right here from that workout.
In the silence of the hospital ward, Hermione slowly opened her eyes. Her head was buzzing, and her body felt foreign and heavy. She groaned quietly and, focusing her gaze, saw Victor sitting nonchalantly beside her.
— Awake, my "Sleeping Beauty"? — he smiled softly. — And here I was telling Madam Pomfrey that true love's kiss would work better than any potion, but she wouldn't believe me. But look at you, awake, hooray! How do you plan on thanking your prince?
Hermione blinked a few times, coming to her senses. Noticing a glass of water on the nightstand, she propped herself up on her elbows and greedily drank it down to the last drop.
— A kiss? — she repeated, putting the glass back in its place. — Did you... did you really kiss me?
— Of course. It was a special, healing kiss that broke the petrification charm and brought you back to life, — Victor continued to beam with a radiant smile, but in response, Hermione only gave a cold scoff.
She began to frantically search her robes, as if looking for something.
— So, did you "wake" Daphne with a kiss too?
Victor froze for a moment. How could she possibly know about that? Daphne was unlikely to kiss and tell, which meant Hermione had somehow heard him while she was in her comatose state.
— So where is it then? — she asked just as calmly, finding nothing in the folds of the fabric.
Victor let out a heavy sigh. He smoothly passed his palm over her robes, and an elegant, circular amulet materialized in the air as if out of nowhere. Hermione took it, carefully studying the engraving.
— So, this is what saved my life.
Victor shook his head.
— No. Nothing would have happened to you anyway. Consider it just... a safety net.
— Hm, a safety net... — her voice trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. — You knew. All this time, you knew what was going to happen. And I was running around you like a fool. No, not even like a fool — as it turns out, I was just a necessary sacrifice in your script.
Victor reached out to her, wanting to wipe away a tear, but she sharply smacked his hand away.
— Don't touch me! Just answer me: why did you do this to me? What did I ever do to you? Am I just a toy to you, someone you can throw in the path of a Basilisk whenever you feel like it?
Victor sighed heavily and, ignoring her protest, sat on the edge of the cot. He firmly but gently pulled Hermione into his arms. She fought back desperately, trying to break free, but he far surpassed her in strength. Eventually, she gave up and, burying her face in his shoulder, burst into bitter tears. Victor silently stroked her back, letting her weep.
— You are not a toy, Hermione. You are my closest friend, — with his free hand, he ripped the blindfold from his eyes and tossed it onto the neighboring bed. — It's just that I… I'm that kind of person. With my own quirks and secrets. Sometimes I don't fully understand what I'm doing myself. You're right, I had no right to treat you this way. But the past cannot be undone. Tell me, how can I make it up to you? What can I do?
Hermione raised her tear-stained eyes to him.
— How did you know the Basilisk would attack me of all people?
Victor looked her in the eyes.
— Let's just say… sometimes I know the future. Though, the moment I interfere, it changes, which is why I didn't do anything.
— And when exactly did you find out about the attack? — she frowned.
— Since the beginning of the year. No, even earlier, but I started thinking about it when Filch's cat was targeted.
Hermione froze, and then a wave of uncontrollable fury washed over her. All this fear, months in petrification — he had foreseen all of it and allowed it to happen! Sharply breaking free from his embrace, she bit hard into his shoulder and then began to furiously pound him with her fists.
— Hey, why are you biting?! — Victor barely managed to shield himself from the blows, catching a glimpse of the wet patch on his T-shirt where she had nipped him.
Pinning her back onto the pillows, he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. Hermione was breathing heavily, looking at him with defiance, but Victor merely leaned down to her ear and gently nipped the sensitive skin on her neck.
— Ah… — Hermione gasped, her anger instantly giving way to a deep blush that flooded her face.
Victor pulled back and looked at her with a sly smile.
— Did you like that?
— You idiot! Pervert! Of course not! — she shook her head frantically and tried to wrench her hands free, but the previous malice was gone from her voice.
Victor merely chuckled softly and, before she could catch her breath, covered her lips with his own. Hermione froze, stunned. When he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, he whispered:
— Did you really not like it?
— No… you fool, — she breathed out barely audibly, completely flustered.
Victor leaned down to her again. This time, the kiss was long and deep. Feeling that he had loosened his grip, Hermione didn't even try to fight it — she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him even closer, refusing to let go.
While they were engrossed in each other, a bright flash of light suddenly illuminated the ward. Hermione shrieked in fright and pushed Victor away with such force that he nearly flew onto the floor. She herself instantly, quickly covered her head with a pillow.
Victor stood up nonchalantly, straightened his clothes, and with a practiced motion, tied the blindfold back over his eyes. He slowly walked over to Colin Creevey's cot. The boy was trying his hardest to pretend to be asleep, but the slight trembling wracking his body gave him away completely. Victor leaned down right to his ear and whispered insinuatingly:
— You will give that photograph directly to me. And if I find out that anyone else has seen it, I promise you: I will shove that camera so far up your skinny ass that you'll be looking at the world through the lens. Do you understand me?
Colin's eyes snapped open in fright, still trembling with terror, and he nodded. Victor gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and, as if nothing had happened, returned to Hermione. She was still hiding under the pillow, burning with embarrassment.
— Let's get out of here... — her muffled whisper drifted out. She felt Victor sit back down on the edge of her bed. Remaining in the same room with Colin was unbearably shameful.
— We can't, — Victor replied softly, pulling the pillow away from her face. — Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute to do a final checkup. So, what do you say? Am I forgiven?
Hermione finally opened her eyes. Her cheeks were still burning with a deep crimson, but the previous anger was no longer in her gaze.
— No. Tell me another story, and then I'll think about it.
— A story? — Victor was genuinely surprised.
— Yes. Like that one about Yuno and Yuki, — she thought of *Future Diary*, which he had retold her while she lay petrified. — Only, if possible, something a little less bloody this time.
Victor smiled.
— Sure. No problem at all, I've got a whole wagonload of stories like that, — he gently patted her head, causing her to finally calm down completely.