The final days at Hogwarts turned out to be bleak for everyone—as is always the case when exams loom close. While students packed the library in a last-minute scramble to make up for a lost year, the castle hummed with nervous tension. Some were overly confident, while others teetered on the brink of a breakdown, waiting for the next exam to begin.
Victor, however, lived to his own rhythm. During the day, he secretly gathered the loyal members of his faction, locking themselves in his hall for hours on end. As soon as business was concluded, he would tactfully vanish, hiding away in Dumbledore's office and only venturing out in the dead of night.
Why? Because he was well and truly stuck. At first, it had been amusing and even flattering to watch Daphne and Hermione compete. He had derived genuine pleasure from their rivalry, but those golden days had swiftly come to an end. The girls went on the offensive: whenever they caught him alone, they would endlessly bombard him with questions like, "Which of us is prettier?" or "Who do you enjoy spending time with more?"
Knowing that showing weakness or favoring one even once would lead to her immediately running off to boast to the other, Victor heroically dodged every question. He realized that if this dragged on, a total catastrophe might occur. Deciding on a tactical retreat to regroup, he went completely off the radar.
With the help of the all-knowing portraits, he and Dumbledore discovered that Hermione and Daphne had even managed to have a proper row over him. Victor didn't care all that much—on the contrary, let them figure out who was superior on their own, why drag him into it? But the news that followed rattled him far more. First, the girls had suddenly made up and grown even closer. And second—his younger sister had found out about his escapades.
In the Headmaster's office, Victor watched melancholically as two of his clones played Jenga.
— Take a higher one, you're going to topple it, — he advised lazily.
The clone, who was slowly and deliberately pulling a wooden block from the base of the tower, merely huffed in annoyance:
— Don't interfere. Better think about what you're going to do.
The staircase ground into motion, and a moment later Dumbledore entered the office. Looking at Victor, he could only shake his head ruefully.
— No, even Professor Sprout has no idea what is going on. And she knows about every single amorous affair in this school. She is dying of curiosity herself as to why Hermione and Daphne have suddenly become inseparable.
Victor frowned, thoughtfully scratching his chin.
— Maybe I hit the jackpot after all, and they've decided to share me?
Dumbledore pondered for a moment.
— I do not know them all that well, but if Miss Greengrass takes after her mother, her pride would never allow her to share her man with anyone else.
Victor nodded in agreement, glancing at his clones.
— Yeah, Hermione wouldn't sign up for that either. Damn, what are those vixens planning?
— Or perhaps they have simply decided to dump you? — Dumbledore suggested with a slight twinkle in his eyes. — Realizing that their friendship is far more valuable than you are.
— Pff... Ha-ha-ha! — Victor and both clones burst into synchronous laughter. — Are you joking? Dumping me?!
Victor abruptly stood up and flung open his robes, flaunting his chiseled abs.
— Dumping this? — he flexed his muscles, playing them up, and pointed to his face. — This perfection?
— Yes! Pure sex-god! — the first clone began to clap furiously, supporting the original.
— Drop your trousers! Show more skin! — the second clone exclaimed ecstatically, leaning forward.
Victor and the first clone froze, glaring flatly at their overexcited copy. Victor slowly pulled his robes back together and sat down in silence.
— Mate, that was weird. Don't do that again, — the first clone smacked the second on the shoulder.
Victor turned back to the Headmaster.
— No, I'm far too good a catch, they won't leave me. Those two are definitely up to something. If only I could find out what...
Dumbledore rolled his eyes, astounded by the sheer magnitude of his friend's ego.
— Very well, Victor. You promised: if I go out and gather intelligence, you will listen to my proposal regarding the day after tomorrow.
Victor lowered his gaze and frowned. The silence in the office became almost palpable. Finally, he looked back at the Headmaster and gave a curt nod.
— Since I promised, please—I am all ears.
Dumbledore nodded gravely and sat across from him, resting his hands on his knees.
— Aurors will escort you all the way from Hogsmeade to the railway station. Tomorrow, the newspapers will run a story about it under the guise of a large-scale training exercise. To avoid provoking panic and to ensure the safety of the other students, they will operate out in the open. The werewolves won't dare attack when you are guarded by such a convoy.
Victor nodded thoughtfully, tracing the gold Ouroboros serpent bracelet on his wrist. His gaze remained fixed on the clones playing their game.
— They will deliver you straight to the Ministry, where you will have to stay for a few days. Later, we will stage your escape. You will head to a pre-arranged safehouse in the wilderness—the main forces of the Aurors, teachers, and members of the Order of the Phoenix will be waiting there in ambush. In short, Victor, you will have to act as bait. Do you mind?
Victor, maintaining a blank expression, gave another curt nod.
— I thought as much. Well, what do you say to our plan?
Victor rubbed his chin.
— Don't you find it odd that Adele hasn't stormed in here yet? She surely knows where I am.
Dumbledore frowned, following his gaze, but saw nothing save for an empty suit of armor.
— Adele has calmed down a bit. I think she's come to terms with the fact that you're a playboy, — one of Victor's "clones" answered, carefully sliding another block out of the tower. The second clone merely nodded in agreement.
— Hm... I'd feel a lot safer if she flew in here with her wand drawn, — Victor muttered.
— Yeah, now we have two infatuated girls scheming who-knows-what, and an unpredictable yandere sister. The year is ending, we'll have to face them soon, — the second clone suddenly yanked a block, and the Jenga tower collapsed with a loud crash. — Our position is highly precarious.
Victor sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. Dumbledore, keeping his voice as gentle as possible, asked:
— Victor... who are you talking to right now?
The portraits of the former headmasters had already informed him of this eccentricity, but Albus hadn't found the time to look into it. Victor raised his head in surprise:
— What do you mean? The clones. Can't you see them?
Dumbledore, offering a sad smile, shook his head. Both clones stared at each other in genuine astonishment.
— You're not a clone? — they asked simultaneously. — So we are... hallucinations?
They began to examine their hands, which turned translucent right before their eyes until they dissolved completely into thin air, leaving Victor in absolute silence.
— Victor, when was the last time you slept? — Dumbledore's voice was incredibly soft.
Victor, who was still staring blankly at the spot where the clones had been moments before, blinked a few times.
— I... don't remember.
Dumbledore nodded understandingly. He approached him, gently took him by the elbow, and helped him stand up.
— Go to my quarters and sleep. You need to rest.
Victor forced a faint smile and nodded:
— Yes, I suppose you're right. It seems I've entirely overworked my brain. Forgive me, Professor... We will talk about your plan once I've cleared my head a bit.
Dumbledore watched him leave. As soon as the door to his quarters closed, the Headmaster let out a weary sigh. Sitting down at his desk, he quickly scribbled a few lines on a piece of parchment and sealed it in an envelope.
— Fawkes, take this to Nicolas Flamel.
The phoenix carefully took the letter in his beak and vanished in a bright flash of flame. Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring into the empty room.
By nighttime, Victor emerged from the Headmaster's quarters feeling much more refreshed. He gave a sweet stretch, and when he came down to the office, a hot dinner was already waiting for him on the desk. Smiling, he sat down and began to eat with a hearty appetite. In that very second, Dumbledore appeared in a vortex of fire.
— Awake? Well, are you feeling any better?
— Yes, thank you. Hm... — Victor paused thoughtfully. — It turns out that when I overexert myself too much, I start seeing hallucinations. It's so... so bizarre.
Dumbledore nodded.
— I have just finished the final discussion with Alastor. Since you are feeling yourself again, let us go over the details of the plan one more time...
— Oh, I heard everything, — Victor cut him off without looking up from his dinner. — Even though I was deep in my own thoughts, I caught the gist: the Ministry, the staged escape, the house in the wilderness, playing the bait... And in the end, we win. Hooray.
Dumbledore merely nodded in silence. Finishing his meal quickly, Victor stood up and headed for the exit.
— Where are you off to?
— Need to check if everything is ready for tomorrow. A few brothers and sisters are leaving my faction this year, so a simple party won't cut it. I need to give them a proper send-off. Well then, see you tomorrow! — he swiftly stepped out of the office, tying his blindfold over his eyes with a practiced motion as he walked.
Entering the Slytherin common room late at night, Victor found several students from his faction gathered there.
— Sorry I'm late. Urgent business... I was asleep, — he admitted honestly.
The Slytherins exchanged glances. Sleeping was considered "urgent business" now? But, naturally, no one dared to question him.
— Well then, is everything ready for tomorrow? — Victor asked.
— Yes, we finished the final preparations today, — one of the girls replied.
Victor nodded contentedly:
— Good. You can go get some rest now, you've all done well.
The students politely said their goodnights and headed toward the staircases leading to the dormitories.
— Goodnight, Victor.
— Sweet dreams to you all.
Once silence fell over the common room, Victor scratched the back of his head in puzzlement.
— Slept the whole day away... what am I supposed to do now? — he sighed, stretching out on the sofa as a book materialized in his hands. However, before he could even slide his blindfold away, he sensed someone quietly approaching.
— So you finally decided to grace us with your presence, — Daphne's voice rang out. She walked over and sat down beside him.
— Which one of them sold me out? — Victor smiled slyly, propping himself up on his elbows.
— As if I'd tell you, — Daphne rolled her eyes and nestled against his chest. — Stop constantly hiding away whenever you don't know what to do. It's kind of childish.
Victor removed his blindfold and wrapped his arms around her tenderly:
— I know. It's just that when it comes to feelings, it's easier for me to run away for a bit and re-evaluate everything.
Daphne nodded understandingly, affectionately stroking his face.
— Have you already heard about the fight?
— Yeah, but I still haven't figured out who won in the end—you or Hermione? Which one of you do I belong to now? — he asked with a smile.
Daphne let out a humorless chuckle:
— Your sister.
— What? — Victor was genuinely surprised.
— After McGonagall gave Granger and me a proper dressing down, we left the office and ran into Adele and Luna. When we went outside, your little sister proved—exceptionally convincingly—that you belong strictly to her, — Daphne planted a fleeting kiss on his cheek. — You know, those two are surprisingly strong. Even Hermione and I had a tough time against them.
— Oh wow... And I was wondering where Adele had vanished to. So that's why you and Hermione have gotten so close again.
— What other choice did we have? — Daphne sighed. — We decided to somehow deal with your sister first, and only then settle between the two of us whose you are.
Victor pouted:
— Does my opinion not matter to you at all?
Daphne laughed and shook her head confidently:
— Of course not. You admitted yourself that you know nothing about these matters. Therefore, us "weak girls" have to take everything into our own hands.
Victor chuckled and, pulling her closer, gently tilted her chin up:
— Then I have no choice but to rely on these weak girls.
He kissed her—a kiss that was long and full of tenderness. When they finally parted, a flushed Daphne pressed herself against his chest once more.
— Rely on me, — she whispered. — I will find a way to breathe life into your callous heart and make you confess your love to me.
Victor made himself comfortable, running his fingers through her hair.
— Perhaps one day it will be so, — he said thoughtfully, before adding: — Though, if you're truly interested in my opinion... If I were to choose a girlfriend myself, it would be Luna. Sweet, funny, and beautiful.
Daphne's gaze turned instantly icy. She snapped upright and straddled his lap, her fingers gripping his robes tightly.
— I am not interested, — she cut him off. — Since I said it's going to be me, then that's exactly how it's going to be.
She pulled him in for another kiss, this time far more dominant and passionate. Victor was taken aback by the sheer force of it at first, but then a look of wild ecstasy appeared on his face. His eyes flared a dangerous crimson as his Sharingan activated completely on its own.
"Yanderes are a absolute blessing, an enthusiastic thought flashed through his mind.