"Harry, are you really alright?" Ron asked, his concern evident even as he stuffed a chicken leg into his mouth.
"I'm fine... With Professor Wick protecting me, what could happen?" Harry replied, his eyes shining with absolute trust in Victor Wick. He speared a piece of sausage; it tasted sweeter tonight than ever before.
The students had already returned to the warmth of the common room. A lavish spread from the feast had been brought up, allowing those who had missed dinner during the chaos to finally satisfy their hunger.
The common room buzzed with excitement. Every Gryffindor was animatedly discussing the thrilling events in the castle. Born with a natural inclination for adventure, the danger they had just faced only seemed to fuel their exhilaration.
"I still don't think you can afford to let your guard down," Hermione said, her brow furrowing in a serious expression. "The person who attacked Shafiq and used the Imperius Curse tonight is likely a Death Eater who's been on the run."
Harry nodded slowly, his expression darkening. "Professor Wick warned me before. I always had protective magic at the Dursleys... That must be why I was never attacked all those years. But now that I'm at Hogwarts, those people probably think they finally have an opening."
"Don't worry!" Ron said through a mouthful of food, his voice muffled. "This is Hogwarts! It's the safest place in the world!"
"And yet, in this 'safest place in the world,' Harry almost died under an Unforgivable Curse tonight," Hermione retorted, shooting Ron a sharp look.
Ron shook his head, remaining optimistic. "But it all worked out, didn't it? We have Dumbledore, and now Professor Wick to back us up—there's nothing to fear! Besides, after tonight, the Aurors will surely be here tomorrow to tighten security."
"Professor Wick is amazing," Neville whispered from the side. He had been quiet until now, his voice filled with genuine admiration.
"He's more than amazing! I've never seen anyone Apparate inside Hogwarts before!" Fred and George appeared like a pair of whirlwinds, squeezing onto the sofa on either side of the group.
"We don't know how he did it, either..." Hermione said, shaking her head. She had already studied everything about Hogwarts and knew the castle was covered by an Anti-Apparition Charm. She was still trying to figure out how Victor Wick had achieved the impossible.
"Did any of you see how the Professor arrived?" she asked urgently.
Fred and George shook their heads in unison. "We wish we had!" Fred said with a grin. "If we could learn a trick like that, it'd be way more fun than our usual pranks!"
"Imagine the possibilities..." George added, exchanging a mischievous look with his brother. They didn't need to finish the sentence; the shared gleam in their eyes said it all.
"I think I saw something..." Neville spoke up again, his voice even softer and tinged with uncertainty.
Everyone's attention snapped to him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaned in, and even the twins dropped their joking manner to listen intently.
Feeling the weight of their gazes, Neville ducked his head. He concentrated hard before stammering out, "I-if I wasn't mistaken... it looked like Professor Wick suddenly dove into a cup on the table... and... and then he just appeared in front of Harry the next second."
The group stared at each other in stunned silence. The din of the common room seemed to fade into the background.
"Dove into a cup... and then Apparated?" Hermione's frown deepened. She absentmindedly rubbed her sleeve, her confusion mounting. No matter how much she searched her knowledge, she couldn't find a logical explanation.
"Hey! Don't you guys have Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow?" Fred said, slapping his knee. "Why not just ask Professor Wick then? If he's in a good mood, he might even show you how it's done!"
Hermione's eyes lit up. She pulled her schedule from her bag and held it up to the light. Confirming they indeed had a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow afternoon, a look of pure anticipation crossed her face.
"That's brilliant! I can't wait for his class!" Ron exclaimed, hitting the cushion of the sofa in excitement.
Harry smiled, his own heart full of expectation. The image of Victor Wick stepping in to save him was seared into his mind—a display of power and reliability that made him feel safe. The prospect of being guided by him filled everyone in the room with hope.
...
In Quirrell's office, the air was stiflingly heavy.
The conversation between Victor Wick and Voldemort was drawing to a close.
"Alright, I should be going. Don't contact me unless it's necessary; I'll reach out to you if I need anything," Victor said flatly. "You should be aware that Quirrell's sudden change in behavior was too obvious. Dumbledore has been suspicious for a long time—he even asked me to keep an eye on him."
Quirrell's face paled even further, his knuckles turning white as a wave of cold dread washed over him.
Victor's final remark was clearly deliberate. Quirrell knew he was in for a bout of torture from his master for his incompetence...
'This has to be Wick's revenge! It absolutely is!'
"Rest assured, Logic..." Voldemort's raspy voice echoed from the back of Quirrell's head, laced with a sinister chill. "I will make sure Quirrell stays in line. He'll create just enough noise to keep Dumbledore's attention occupied elsewhere."
Victor gave a slight nod. He paused for a moment before asking, "Do you think I can get Severus to assist me?"
"Snape? Heh..." Voldemort let out a low, mocking chuckle. "He was indeed loyal once, and his talents are quite useful. However... do not forget that I personally killed the woman he loved. It is best if you don't mention me to him. Remember, Logic: Snape is someone you use, but never trust. When he is no longer of value, simply dispose of him."
Victor nodded and turned toward the door.
But just as his hand touched the cold handle, Voldemort's voice called out again. "Logic... back at Gringotts, were you helping Dumbledore retrieve the Philosopher's Stone?"
Victor was about to answer when a sudden chill ran down his spine.
He realized this was a lethal trap!
Voldemort had specifically chosen to ask this right as Victor was about to leave—the moment his guard was slightly lowered. It was clearly a calculated move.
Victor's mind raced as he weighed his options.
If he casually claimed he didn't take it, or that he was just depositing money, he couldn't be sure when Voldemort had arrived. If Voldemort had been watching from the shadows the whole time, a lie would be his undoing.
Even if Voldemort had arrived late and hadn't seen it, the goblin who led him was still alive. All Voldemort had to do was place an Imperius Curse on that goblin, and the secret would be out.
Victor turned back slowly, his expression perfectly calm, his voice steady as if stating a mundane fact. "I was indeed sent by Dumbledore to pick up a package... Inside that package was a red stone."
"So it was the Philosopher's Stone..." Voldemort's eyes locked onto Victor, his tone heavy with scrutiny.
"Yes, it was the Philosopher's Stone," Victor explained coolly. "But I wasn't aware of your condition then, nor did I know you had returned. I didn't recognize you until the moment you attacked me."
At this point, Victor felt the panic subside.
'I didn't even know you were back, let alone your current state. How could I have known you needed the Stone?'
'If you had just shown yourself to me sooner, I would have given the Stone to you right then and there.'
Voldemort stared into Victor's eyes, as if trying to pierce through his mask to see the truth beneath.
After a long pause, he let out a low laugh, his tone softening slightly. "Heh, I suspected as much... I don't blame you, Logic. After all, even if I had returned to full strength, I wouldn't want you to expose yourself so soon. We spent a great deal of effort planting you by Dumbledore's side; I wouldn't let that go to waste before you've served your purpose."
Victor understood. With his current reputation and position, he was far more valuable to Voldemort as an asset.
Voldemort's questioning was simply his habitual paranoia.
Or perhaps Victor's guess was right—Quirrell had caught a glimpse of him taking the stone at Gringotts, prompting this final test.
With a soft click, the door to Quirrell's office closed behind him, cutting off the sinister atmosphere.
Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A thin layer of cold sweat covered his back.
'Voldy, you really are as devious as they come...'
'I almost slipped up and said I didn't take it. None of these characters are pushovers!'