One evening Victor led the group up to the seventh floor, the others trailing behind him, wondering why they'd been dragged so far from the main classrooms.
He stopped beside a long stretch of bare stone wall.
"You should know Hogwarts is one of the oldest wizarding schools in Britain, founded by four great witches and wizards," Victor began. "Over the centuries the castle has accumulated all sorts of magical—"
A sneeze cut through the group.
Victor's mouth twitched. "Right. I can see the history lesson isn't surviving the evening." He turned back to the wall.
"Hogwarts has a rather useful place called the Room of Requirement. It appears only for those genuinely in need of something."
He closed his eyes.
We need somewhere to train. Somewhere private. Somewhere Umbridge can't find us.
He walked along the wall.
Nothing happened.
He walked back the other way, thinking harder this time.
We need a place to practise defensive magic.
The stone shimmered.
"What the—"
The wall shifted, stone moving aside as a wooden door appeared where nothing had been before.
Victor stopped in front of it. "There."
Ron looked back down the corridor. "That definitely wasn't there before."
"I've walked past this wall hundreds of times," Dean said.
"So have I," Neville added.
"When did you find this?" Hermione asked.
"First year."
"You know about a place like this and didn't tell us for four years?" Ron said.
"You didn't ask."
Ron opened his mouth, closed it again. He had no idea how he was supposed to have known to ask.
Victor ignored him and opened the door.
Beyond it was a room transformed precisely for their purpose — floor wide enough for several pairs to practise at once, padded areas along the walls, training dummies standing ready, shelves stocked with equipment.
Fred stepped inside. "This is brilliant."
"Much better than standing in a pub pretending we're not breaking half a dozen laws," George said.
Victor walked in and looked back at them. "Well?" He stepped aside. "Shall we?"
He drew his wand and turned toward a dummy. "First, I'll show you some genuinely dangerous spells. You're not practising these. Just watch."
"Diffindo."
The spell sliced across the dummy, cutting through its enchanted covering.
"Confringo."
The dummy exploded, wood and stuffing scattering.
"Reducto."
The target blasted apart.
Victor lowered his wand. "Dangerous spells. Useful in the right situation, but not something you throw around just because you've learned the incantation. Control comes first." He turned back to them. "Now the ones you actually need. Expelliarmus."
He flicked his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
The dummy's wand flew from its hand.
"Simple and effective. Take away someone's wand, you've taken away most of their options." He raised it again. "Stupefy!"
Red light struck the dummy and it fell backward.
"Stunning Charm. Easy to learn, no complicated wand movements, ends a fight without killing anyone. These are the spells you practise until you can cast them without thinking."
A hand went up.
"I heard you can cast a Patronus," the student said. "Can you show us?"
A few heads turned toward Victor.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron already knew this was a bad idea — Victor's Patronus tended to be a lot to take in the first time.
Victor shook his head, then raised his wand anyway. If they wanted to see it, he wasn't going to argue.
"Fine. Make sure you're not scarecrows." He raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum."
Brilliant silver light erupted from the tip, sweeping across the room before gathering behind him, growing, expanding, until the shape of a massive dragon emerged from the mist.
Its wings unfolded. It lifted its head and released a thunderous roar that shook the room.
The students nearest Victor stumbled backward.
Hermione just sighed — about what she'd expected if anyone was going to see a dragon inside a castle, even a Patronus one.
Neville went completely white.
The dragon turned its head toward him.
His eyes widened.
Then he fainted.
Harry looked down at him. "Should we wake him?"
"Yeah," Victor said. "Unless one of you wants to carry him."
***
By the end of October, almost two months had passed since the beginning of the school year, and Defence Against the Dark Arts had settled into the same miserable routine it had followed since September.
Umbridge had made it perfectly clear that there would be no practical lessons, and every class consisted of reading Defensive Magical Theory, copying notes, and answering questions from the textbook.
That afternoon, the fifth years sat quietly at their desks while Umbridge droned on from the front of the classroom.
Victor had stopped paying attention several minutes ago.
His textbook remained open in front of him, but his eyes had gradually closed as Umbridge continued reading. Sitting beside him, Hermione glanced sideways and noticed his head had begun to tilt against the back of his chair.
She nudged his arm.
Victor didn't react.
Hermione sighed and returned to her notes.
A moment later, a loud snore came from beside her.
Umbridge stopped.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked across the classroom.
Everyone else had already turned towards the sound.
Victor was still sitting beside Hermione, silver hair slightly dishevelled, his eyes closed and his textbook open in front of him.
Hermione immediately whispered, "Victor."
Victor opened his eyes.
"What?"
Umbridge's smile had disappeared.
"Mr. Malfoy."
Victor looked towards her.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Were you sleeping?"
Victor glanced down at his textbook before looking back at her.
"No."
Umbridge's lips tightened.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes"
A few students quickly lowered their heads.
Umbridge's hand tightened around her wand beneath the desk. She had known from the beginning that Victor Malfoy would be a problem, but after nearly two months of dealing with him, her patience was wearing thin.
For one brief moment, she genuinely considered cursing him.
Instead, she forced her smile back onto her face.
"Perhaps you would like to remain after class, Mr. Malfoy."
Victor looked at the clock.
"No, thanks."
*****
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