The Gryffindors burst into cheers as Harry landed, the Remembrall held tightly in his hand. A few students clapped, others murmured excitedly, impressed that he'd managed it on his very first flight.
Before Harry could properly take it in, a sharp voice cut through the noise.
"Harry Potter."
Professor McGonagall stood at the edge of the grounds, her expression unreadable as she looked straight at him.
"Follow me."
The cheering stopped at once.
Harry's heart sank. He glanced briefly at the other Gryffindors, then dismounted, returning his broom to the ground. Without saying a word, he followed Professor McGonagall as she turned and walked toward the castle, leaving the rest of the class behind in uneasy silence.
Behind them, Draco's mouth curled into a grin. He let out a quiet laugh, and Crabbe and Goyle joined in.
Victor shot all three of them a sharp look.
"You three," he said coolly.
The giggling stopped instantly.
"Don't laugh when you don't even understand what's happening," Victor added.
Draco scoffed. "What, you think he's not getting an earful for breaking the rules?"
Victor didn't even look at him. "No," he said calmly. "That's not what's about to happen. Don't wear that smug face—you're celebrating the wrong thing."
Draco frowned. "Then what?"
Victor watched Harry and McGonagall disappear toward the castle. "You'll find out soon enough."
He didn't say more, but he already knew.
Harry wasn't being punished.
He was being recruited.
And whether Draco realised it or not, this moment—this very stunt—was exactly how Harry Potter was about to become the youngest Seeker Gryffindor had seen in years.
Victor almost sighed.
His little brother really did have a talent for helping his enemies shine.
Victor turned his attention back to the problem at hand.
"Did you finish the first-year Charms book I asked you to read?" he asked calmly.
Draco hesitated. "…That one? I was—uh—exploring the castle. Forgot."
Victor nodded once. Slowly.
"Oh. Good. Very good."
Before Draco could react, Victor raised his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Draco yelped as his feet lifted clean off the ground. Crabbe and Goyle followed a heartbeat later, rising a foot into the air and dangling awkwardly, arms flailing.
"Brother—what are you doing? Put me down!" Draco shouted, spinning slightly.
"No," Victor replied evenly. "How many times do I need to say it? We came here to study."
He took a step closer, wand steady.
"You three seem remarkably talented at everything except studying."
Crabbe whimpered. Goyle tried to grab Draco's sleeve and missed.
Victor tilted his head, considering them. "Relax. I'm not dropping you. This is a reminder."
He gave his wand a small flick, making them bob gently up and down.
"Next time," he added, voice calm but unmistakably firm, "finish the book."
Draco nodded rapidly, like a chicken pecking at grain.
A snicker broke out nearby.
Ron clapped a hand over his mouth, failing miserably to hide his amusement. Draco shot him a furious glare from mid-air.
Victor's eyes shifted to Ron.
"Ron," he said calmly, "before you laugh at others—did you read that book?"
Ron opened his mouth. Closed it. Scratched the back of his head.
"That… I—"
He had not. Not even a little.
Victor nodded as if that answered everything. "See? You're in the same category. If you laugh at him, you're indirectly laughing at yourself."
That did it.
Ron shut up at once.
Hermione, who had been watching the whole scene, spoke up.
"Shouldn't we go to the infirmary?"
She had fallen directly on him with considerable force, and although Victor insisted he wasn't injured, it would be better for them to take a trip to the infirmary.
"…You're right," he admitted, wincing faintly. "I'm feeling pain in my waist."
The pain was increasing now, likely because of all the movement after the fall.
Hermione frowned. "That settles it. We are going to the infirmary"
Victor lowered his wand, gently setting Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle back on the ground. Draco staggered, rubbing his arms and shooting Victor a wary look, but wisely said nothing.
"Let's go "
After that, they went to the infirmary.
As it turned out, the fall really had hurt him. Madam Pomfrey examined Victor with a practised, no-nonsense air, running her wand once over his side. Her expression sharpened at once.
"A cracked rib," she said briskly. "Very nearly broken. You're lucky—if you'd landed a bit harder, we'd be having a longer conversation."
Hermione looked stricken. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault—"
"Nonsense," Poppy Pomfrey interrupted firmly. "Falls happen. And young wizards insist on doing heroic things without thinking of the consequences."
She raised her wand and gave a short, precise movement, murmuring an incantation under her breath.
Victor felt a warm, tightening sensation spread along his side—uncomfortable but not painful—as the magic worked through the bone, knitting it back together.
The ache faded almost immediately.
"There," Madam Pomfrey said, lowering her wand. "The rib is mended. You'll feel a bit sore for a while, but it's healed."
Victor took a careful breath, testing it. "…Feels fine."
Madam Pomfrey fixed him with a stern look. "You'll rest here for a bit anyway. Magical healing doesn't mean your body wasn't put under strain."
Hermione sat down on the chair beside his bed, still looking unsettled.
She folded her hands in her lap, glancing at him, then away, then back again. "You really shouldn't have done that," she said quietly. "Taking the fall like that."
"Well, it's not like I was in a position to dodge," Victor said plainly. "If I had dodged, you'd have ended up in the same condition as Neville."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. She frowned instead. "That doesn't make it better."
"It does," Victor replied calmly. "Because now you're fine. And it wasn't a big injury anyway—Madam Pomfrey said it'll be completely healed by tonight."
Hermione crossed her arms, unconvinced, but she didn't press further.
She stayed with him in the infirmary until evening, doing homework and talking about classes—mostly about how unfair Potions.
When it grew late, Madam Pomfrey sent her off .
Lying on the infirmary bed, Victor stared up at the ceiling.
Since he couldn't do any of his usual night activities he decided this was as good a time as any to try the Astral Projection he'd received earlier.
'Let's see how this works,' Victor thought.
He closed his eyes and used it.
The change was immediate.
One moment he was lying on the bed, the next he was floating above it, looking down at his own body. There was no pain, no discomfort—just a strange, weightless feeling.
"Huh," he thought. So this is what being a ghost feels like.
He drifted around the infirmary, moving easily without walking. It felt natural, as though motion was controlled by thought alone.
Then another question came to him.
'Can people even see me like this?'
To test it, Victor floated out of the infirmary and into the corridor, looking for victims on whom to test his theory. The castle halls were empty—the evening feast in the Great Hall had ended, and curfew had settled over Hogwarts. No students lingered in the corridors, and no professors were in sight.
'Bad timing,' he noted.
He continued on, passing staircases as they shifted and rearranged themselves. Eventually, he spotted two familiar figures.
"…Those two?" Victor muttered.
Ahead of him were Harry and Ron, standing on a staircase landing, clearly confused as the moving stairs carried them in the wrong direction.
'What are they doing here?' he thought, floating closer.
Then he noticed where the staircase was taking them.
"…Third floor," Victor realised. "Isn't that where Fluffy is?"
Understanding clicked.
So this is that part of the plot.
Victor hovered nearby, watching calmly as the stairs continued to move, already knowing where this would lead.
*****
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Currently updated up to Chapter 26.
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