Victor groaned loudly and struggled to his feet. Removing his mask, he tore the amulet from his neck—the metal was deformed and blackened by magic. He tossed it aside abruptly.
— Next time, buy your magical items from me, — Ben advised dryly.
Victor shook his head and contemptuously kicked the amulet.
— I didn't buy it, I created it! Or rather, it's one of the very first amulets from when I was just learning Alchemy.
The old man nodded skeptically.
— I don't think Alchemy is your forte.
Victor pouted.
— This isn't my best product! I just grabbed it by mistake!
Ben didn't argue and silently agreed with a nod.
Victor felt a bit offended and decided that next time he would certainly bring one of his finest works to make Ben's jaw drop. While Victor was imagining Ben's shocked face, he noticed his katana lying among the debris.
— NO! My sword! — As he picked up the blade, Victor's eyes welled up. The katana's blade was melted and snapped in half from the impact of the curse, turned into a useless piece of metal.
— Damn it, why?! It cost twenty thousand euros! The lying sellers said it would withstand any blow! — Victor angrily threw the fragment away and looked at Ben. — Fine, no big deal. I'll just burn their damn shop to the ground.
Ben let out a weary sigh and shook his head.
— I don't think when the Muggles sold it to you, they expected it to be hit by a Death Eater's curse.
Victor paused to think, then nodded slowly.
— I hadn't really thought about that. — He pulled a diary and a pen out of thin air and quickly scribbled: Need to create a magical katana that can withstand magic hits.
Finished writing, Victor tucked the diary away and offered a sunny smile.
— Alright, now please step outside. I need to burn this place to the ground.
But Ben didn't leave. He began to look around, glancing indifferently at the corpses strewn across the floor.
— Hey, did you hear me? I want to burn this place!
Ben looked at Victor and unexpectedly smiled.
— Watching you kill, I've concluded that you don't give a damn what they died for. They didn't die because they were hunting you; they died to entertain you, Victor. You are a collector of deaths, not an avenger.
A wide smile appeared on Victor's face.
— Go on.
— I want you to follow me. I could guide you. I could teach you to control this power, to make it a tool rather than a diversion. To give you a real purpose worthy of your... uniqueness.
— A purpose? But I have a purpose! I want to become the strongest in the world!
Ben shook his head dismissively.
— Those are just childhood dreams. Dreams that put you on the same level as thousands of mediocre wizards. I'm talking about something greater, Victor. With your strength and unique mind, you should have grand, historical ambitions. Ambitions that change the rules of the game.
Victor put on a shocked face.
— Grand ambitions? And you can help me?
Ben nodded with authoritative power.
— Of course. I am old and my time has long since passed, Victor. But you could be my final project. If you follow me, I will lead you to true greatness, where you won't have to hide from Aurors or Director Dumbledore. You will become a new figure to be both feared and revered.
Victor looked at him with a dazzling glint in his eyes, like an obsessed fan looking at their favorite star.
— I will be... PFFFT! Ha-ha-ha-ha! — Before he could finish, Victor exploded into hysterical laughter, clutching his sides. — Sorry, I really couldn't help it! Ha-ha-ha!
As Victor was consumed by laughter, Ben shook his head. He flicked his wand, and a chair that had been broken in the explosion restored itself and flew toward him. He sat down, leaned back, and waited patiently. When Victor finally calmed down, he exhaled and, still smiling, looked at Ben.
— You know, if anyone else tried to manipulate me, I'd show them in vivid detail exactly what the Cruciatus Curse is capable of. But you... you're a man who died inside a long time ago, Ben. You have no goal of your own, no meaning to your existence. You're just a walking, empty vessel. And you know what? You entertained me.
— What makes you say that? Perhaps I was being serious.
Victor shook his head.
— No, I know it. I can see it in your eyes, — Victor looked into the old man's eyes. — Where they kept me, there were plenty of people with eyes like those. They had been dead inside for a long time; their souls had rotted away. They only had enough courage to try and commit suicide, even if they failed. Why are you still alive? You don't look like a coward. Or are you waiting for a worthy opponent to kill you after a glorious battle?
Ben remained silent for a while, then his artificial smile vanished, and he shook his head tiredly.
— My cursed pride won't let me die just like that, without meaning.
Victor was right. Ben had simply existed like a stone for several decades. When he was young, the world was chaotic and alive, and he was a vital part of it. But when he hit fifty, everything began to crumble: his comrades were either dead or in Azkaban, and those who were lucky had retired and started families. In an instant, he realized he was absolutely alone—no friends, no family, no purpose. For thirty years, he hadn't done anything that wasn't related to his shop. And today, for the first time, he had interfered in something. Though even he didn't fully understand what he was doing here.
— I understand everything about you. Prolonged, deep depression, — Victor diagnosed him. — Now then, maybe you can explain what that performance was just now?
— I don't know myself. I suppose I wanted to see how gullible you are.
— Oh, I see. Well, no, I don't trust anyone. I'm not that easy to manipulate.
— Don't be so self-assured. I've met many people who knew how to turn others into obedient puppets just by talking to them for a while.
Victor smiled, but his eyes remained sharp.
— I'm not afraid of them. I am one of them myself, though I haven't used those skills in a long time. Though, you know... — He thoughtfully stroked his chin. — I think I should start again. With magic and my knowledge of psychology, I think I could create the perfect living tool.
Ben nodded.
— But you should still be careful, lest you wake up one day and realize you're dancing to someone else's tune, having lost your own will.
— Are you hinting at Dumbledore now? — Victor narrowed his eyes. Ben didn't answer, only gave him a silent, searching look. — Yes, the old man definitely has plans for me in the future, but that's acceptable. While he's grooming me for later, I'm using him now; it's beneficial for both of us.
— And are you entirely sure you aren't under his power right now? — Ben watched him searchingly.
Victor looked around and threw his arms wide, gesturing to the bloody chaos and the corpses around them.
— Of course! Look at this scene! He would never allow me to stage such massacres! You know, I often wonder: if he weren't such a die-hard fan of goodness and light, he would have owned the entire wizarding world long ago.
Ben nodded understandingly, agreeing with his assessment of Dumbledore's main weakness.
— And what will you do when he finds out about this?
— He won't do anything to me, — Victor replied confidently. — His kind and self-sacrificing side won't let him. And besides... I hope he finds out. After all, all of this is for him.
Ben looked at Victor with confusion. The boy's face was completely serious. Victor smirked, and his voice shifted to a tired tone:
— Do you know how many people I've killed this week? Over sixty. Both wizards and Muggles. — Victor looked at his hand, which was still dripping with blood. — I am sick, Ben. My rational side understands this perfectly, and I can't handle it on my own, but I don't have the strength to ask for help. Two sides are fighting within me: one says everything is fine, and the other screams for me to stop.
Victor looked at Ben and gave a sunny smile.
— I could have taken them out quietly, unnoticed, one by one, and no one would even have looked for them. But I decided to stage a massacre here, and I will make sure Dumbledore takes notice. It won't take him long to track me down then. And I believe he will save me.
Ben looked at Victor thoughtfully and stood up.
— I think it's time for me to go. It's bad for business to leave the shop for this long.
Victor's hands erupted in bright flames.
— Yes, I should finish up and go home too. I have an eternally hungry cat waiting for me.
— By the way, to get rid of depression, find yourself a hobby. I'd suggest fishing. A quiet and peaceful activity; you'll have plenty of time to contemplate your life.
Ben considered this and nodded slowly.
— I'll think about your suggestion. By the way, I don't know if you need this, but I didn't kill him.
Saying this, he calmly stepped outside and apparated.
The flames on Victor's hands died down abruptly. He approached the leader and, kneeling, realized the man was still breathing, merely unconscious. Victor smiled mischievously and placed a palm on his forehead. His hand began to glow with a bright, pulsating white light, and the leader's face began to contort in unbearable, searing pain. He let out a piercing scream, snapped his eyes open, and frantically crawled away from Victor, trying to escape the touch.
Seeing that he had woken up, Victor smiled joyfully.
— Good morning, sunshine! Have a nice nap?
The leader looked around in shock, his eyes darting feverishly as he tried to piece together fragments of the nightmare. He looked at Victor in horror, his eyes widening to their limit as he froze in a stupor.
Victor was surprised by this extreme reaction, but then he suddenly realized why. He raised a hand to his face and burst out laughing.
— Ha-ha-ha! Sorry, I forgot to put my mask on!
— You... you... you... — unable to withstand this final shock, he lost consciousness again.
Victor stood up and shook his head contemptuously.
— So delicate. Well, we'll deal with him later. For now... — his hands flared with red flames again, and tongues of fire began to spread rapidly from his palms throughout the room, engulfing the bodies and furniture. — Director, I hope you hear my cry!