— Ah, what a wonderful day! Though the weather is a bit disappointing, — Victor stepped briskly toward the stadium. — Adele, why are you lagging behind? Pick up the pace!
— It's the weekend, — Adele grumbled gloomily, huddling into her robes. — Why do I even have to go anywhere this early?
— Stop whining. Look at Luna — bright, cheerful, full of energy, — Victor nodded at the girl skipping along behind them.
Adele turned around. Luna was walking with her strange, bouncy gait, intently examining the insects fluttering over the pitch.
— I still don't understand why you came with us, — Adele sighed.
— I didn't have anything better to do anyway, — Luna replied serenely. — Besides, there are suspiciously many Nargles flying around the Quidditch pitch today. Someone is clearly plotting mischief.
Adele shook her head wearily but took her friend by the elbow nonetheless:
— Then don't fall behind.
Victor meanwhile approached Daphne, who was watching a brewing scandal on the pitch with a stony expression.
— What's going on?
— It seems no one informed the Gryffindors that the stadium was booked by us today, — Daphne explained.
On the pitch, Hermione stepped forward resolutely, blocking Malfoy's path:
— At least no one bought a spot on the Gryffindor team! Everyone there is chosen purely for their talent!
Draco turned purple and already opened his mouth:
— No one asked for your opinion, you little Mud...
At that moment, he caught sight of Victor out of the corner of his eye. Victor was standing a few meters away, hands in his pockets, fixating Malfoy with an icy, expectant stare. Draco cut himself off instantly, breaking into a cold sweat. Calling Moss's friend a "Mudblood" right in front of his eyes was as good as signing his own death warrant.
— Fine, guys, forget it, — Malfoy stammered, backing away. — We need to warm up before the trials.
— Ha! What's the matter, Malfoy, scared? — Ron shouted at their backs.
— Scared. But not of you, — Victor smiled, unhurriedly approaching the Gryffindors. — I'm afraid the stadium is occupied by Slytherin today by official agreement.
— Victor? — Hermione blinked in surprise. — Are you on the team too?
— No, just resolving a few internal House issues.
Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, looked at Victor, then at the Slytherins, who were already starting to unpack their new brooms.
— Since you've officially booked the time... Fine. We're leaving.
— Thank you, kind stranger, — Victor nodded politely, watching them depart.
— Right, Daphne, let's go. We need to finish everything by lunch; I don't have any time to spare, — Victor headed toward the commentary box.
Having ascended, he lounged regally in the central chair usually occupied by Dumbledore during matches. To his right sat Daphne and Astoria; to his left, Gemma and her friend. Adele and Luna settled in behind them.
— So, — Victor propped his chin on his hand lazily, — how many candidates do we have for the team?
Daphne replied:
— Eleven people from our side. Four from Gemma's. Malfoy's faction put forward six, including Draco himself.
— Not bad. Split them into two groups and let them take off.
Daphne nodded and, standing at the edge of the box, barked out orders in a loud voice. The game began. Brooms blurred in the air, and the whistle of the Quaffle rang out.
— As I said, the veterans should stay, — Daphne noted quietly, pointing to three first-string players. — They are the backbone. Without them, the team will fall apart.
Victor watched as the trio literally dominated the air, leaving the others not a single chance. He pressed the button on the magical microphone:
— Attention! Pause for a moment.
The players froze in mid-air, staring at the box. Victor hesitated and handed the microphone to Daphne. She leaned in and spoke clearly:
— Adrian Pucey, Cassius Warrington, and Terence Higgs.
— Yes, you three, — Victor spoke into the mic again. — Well done. You're on the team. You may descend. The rest — continue.
Astoria, watching this, snorted disdainfully:
— Hmph! You can't even be bothered to remember their names.
— I try not to clutter my head with the names of secondary characters, — Victor replied, not even turning his head toward her. — I barely remember your name. To me, you're just Daphne's younger sister.
Astoria jumped up, her face splotching with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at Victor:
— How dare you?! Daphne, I don't understand how you can serve someone... someone like him!
Victor ignored her tantrum. He watched Malfoy closely, who at that moment performed a sharp dive, nearly touching the ground, and snatched the Snitch right out from under his opponent's nose.
— Draco, not bad, — Victor turned the mic back on. — You're on the team. Come down.
Malfoy, beaming with pride, did a victory lap around the stadium and landed next to the trio, who greeted him with approving claps on the shoulder.
Completely ignored, Astoria began to shake. Her face went pale, and a dangerous spark flared in her eyes. She whipped her wand out of her robe pocket, but before she could raise it, the thin tip of another wand pressed against her throat. It was Adele.
— Put your hand down right now, — Adele whispered in an icy voice. Her gaze was frighteningly calm. — Or I'll see what happens if I cast Expelliarmus this close to a throat. I think it might just rip your windpipe out... but who knows, maybe something new will happen.
Astoria turned even paler and froze, her eyes wide.
— Astoria, calm down! — Daphne rose hurriedly. — Adele, please, move the wand away from my sister's neck.
Victor, who had been watching with unconcealed interest, merely smiled and nodded to Adele. The girl obediently lowered her wand and returned to her seat next to Luna.
— Ha-ha-ha! — Gemma leaned back in her chair, shocked by Adele's cold-bloodedness. — I see your little sister takes after her brother.
Victor laughed happily:
— Yes, she is my pride and joy.
Daphne looked at her trembling, deathly afraid sister and sighed heavily. She grabbed her firmly by the arm and dragged her to the furthest corner of the stands. As soon as they were alone, Astoria burst into tears, her shoulders heaving.
— I'm telling Father everything! — she sobbed, smearing tears across her face. — He won't let this go. He'll destroy them both!
— Father won't do a thing to him, — Daphne shook her head with a strange, empty smile. — Victor is protected by Dumbledore himself. The pure-blood families spent all summer trying to find a way to get to him, pooling vast amounts of Galleons to hire someone... But as you can see, he's back. Safe and sound.
— Why are you smiling?! — Astoria recoiled in horror. — That means you'll have to be his servant until the end of school!
— Until the end of school? — Daphne looked at her, and Astoria saw an unhealthy, almost feverish glint in her eyes. — No, I think it will last much longer. With his power, his genius... I am ready to follow him for the rest of my life.
Astoria went silent instantly. Her hiccups stopped, and she stared at her sister in shock, as if seeing her for the first time.
— Sister... do you even realize what you're saying? You want to spend your whole life obeying some Mudblood?
Daphne's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.
— If that "someone" is Victor, then I agree. — In the next second, the softness vanished. Daphne grabbed her sister by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye — cold and dangerous. — So remember this once and for all: if you ever dare point a wand in his direction again, I will beat you myself. And then I'll see to it that Father locks you at home under house arrest until you're of age. Do you understand me?
— Daphne... what happened to you? — Astoria whispered, her lips barely moving.
— Astoria, understand this: people like Victor are born once in a thousand years. Great things await him; he will turn this world upside down. So stop talking nonsense about your superiority and blood purity. Until you become stronger and craftier than him — don't you dare anger him. — Daphne smiled again and stroked her sister's cheek gently, almost motherly. — Believe me, it will end badly.
Leaving her sister to process what she had heard, Daphne headed back to Victor with an impenetrable expression. Astoria merely huffed in resentment and flopped onto the bench, nearly hitting Gemma Farley as she walked by.
— What's the matter, little Greengrass? Big sister gave you a lecture? — Gemma smirked, stopping nearby.
— None of your business! Leave me alone, — Astoria snapped, turning away.
Gemma, ignoring the rudeness, sat down regally beside her.
— I'm having a lucky day. Victor approved one of my boys as the starting Keeper and took the second as a reserve. That's a win.
— And what are you so happy about? — Astoria turned to her sharply, her eyes burning with indignation. — That you're dancing to the tune of this upstart? You're the Slytherin Prefect, Gemma! You've achieved power; you should be in command! How could you fall so low?
Gemma looked at the pitch where the players were performing maneuvers and gave a bitter smile.
— And what choice did I have, Astoria?
— To fight! You should have crushed him in first year when he first showed up!
— You think we didn't try? — Gemma looked at the girl, a shadow of old terror flickering in her gaze. — It was all in vain. He proved craftier than any of us and used methods I haven't even read about in forbidden books. You know, I tried to intimidate him once... but in the end, I was the one who got scared. I still remember that day. I looked into his eyes and didn't see a shred of fear. Only cold madness.
She paused, as if reliving the moment.
— It was primal fear. The fear of prey before a predator. He maimed and broke people playfully, with a smile on his lips. And I asked myself: what happens if he gets serious? What if he stops playing?
— I don't feel anything like that in him, — Astoria muttered stubbornly. — He's just a conceited fool with a bloated ego.
— Ha-ha-ha! Yes, he seems different this year, — Gemma bit her lip thoughtfully. — Though no, he started changing last term. I don't know what kind of hell he went through before school if he only recognized violence and pain at first. It seems being around others has calmed him down a bit.
Gemma stood up and leisurely smoothed the folds of her robes, where her Prefect badge gleamed dimly.
— Right now, he looks more like a spoiled child who likes to fool around and play "king." But I've seen his true nature. Believe me, Astoria: one day he will let his shadow loose. And then we'd all better be his friends or stay as far away from him as possible.
After the trials concluded, the whole company headed to the Great Hall for lunch.
Malfoy was practically glowing like a lantern on a moonless night. He took a seat next to Gemma, directly across from Victor and Daphne. Already a year ago, he would have preferred to eat in the Owlery rather than sit so close to Victor, but today pride had triumphed over fear. After many pure-blood families with ties to Death Eaters chose to leave England to stay out of trouble, Draco — thanks to his father's gold and influence — had finally become the undisputed leader of his faction. Sitting beside the two other pillars of Slytherin, he felt his confidence, crushed by Victor the previous year, beginning to rise again.
— Draco, — Victor set down his knife and fork, turning a calm gaze on him. — I understand perfectly well that we aren't on the warmest of terms. Rather, your whole group sincerely hates me. But despite that, I believe one thing is important for all of us — Slytherin's victory. Quidditch brings a huge number of points to the House.
Malfoy froze, listening intently.
— Therefore, I've decided that you will be the new Captain of our team. I expect total commitment from you. Don't limit yourself to training the first string — handle the reserves too. When the veterans finish school, we must have ready replacements.
Draco puffed out his chest and swelled with self-importance, trying to look as dignified as possible.
— You can count on it, Victor. I will personally oversee the discipline. I'm certain that with our new brooms and my strategy, crushing the other Houses will be no trouble at all.
Victor raised an eyebrow ironically but didn't argue. He merely smiled politely and nodded.
Hardly finished with lunch, Malfoy decided not to waste any time. With a sharp gesture, he ordered the team to rise and led them back to the pitch.
Gemma watched the departing team and, frowning, turned to Victor.
— Are you really sure he can be trusted with the team?
Victor laughed quietly and shook his head, mocking sparks dancing in his eyes.
— Gemma, I wouldn't even trust him with the elastic in my underwear, let alone a team.
— Then I don't understand at all. Why give him such power?
— "Nimbuses," — Daphne answered succinctly in his stead, elegantly sipping juice from her goblet. — If we don't make Malfoy Captain, we might lose the latest brooms.
Victor nodded in agreement:
— Exactly. But if he gets too full of himself or starts slacking off — we'll kick him out in an instant. Our old brooms are still good for something.
Gemma nodded understandingly. She hesitated for a moment, then looked at Victor with timid hope:
— Listen, about tonight's trial... maybe we could resolve this less... officially?
— Wait, — Victor interrupted her suddenly, his gaze shifting to the neighboring Ravenclaw table. — Adele? Why have you barely eaten anything?
Adele, who was already about to get up from the table, froze under his piercing stare.
— I'm not hungry.
— No, that won't do, — he rose instantly, losing all interest in Gemma, and headed toward his sister. — Sit back down this instant.
Gemma sighed wearily, watching his departing back. She tried to speak to Daphne again:
— Daphne, maybe you can influence him? This trial...
— It won't work, — Daphne wiped her lips daintily with a napkin and rose, gracefully adjusting her robes. — He's already prepared the judge's robes and the gavel. There's no stopping him. So, we'll see you right after curfew.
Leaving Gemma all alone, Daphne headed for the exit, maintaining her icy composure.