— Welcome, dear friends, to the first Quidditch match of the season! Today, two great teams will clash on the field—Gryffindor and Slytherin! — Lee Jordan's voice echoed over the stadium, drowning out the roar of the crowd. — Look at the vibrant support from Slytherin, what a spirit! With this kind of support, there's no way they can lose!
These words were music to Viktor's ears. He stood on the stands like a conductor, leading his orchestra. When Jordan announced the name of their house, Viktor waved his hands, and forty Slytherins, dressed in all green, began to chant: "Slytherin! Slytherin!". They rattled noisemakers, waved banners, and their cheers were so synchronized and loud that they even overpowered the noise from the Gryffindor stands. It wasn't just cheering—it was a demonstration of strength, power, and unity.
The match began. Madam Hooch threw the ball, and the game swirled in the air. Suddenly, a golden speck, as if alive, flew from behind Harry Potter's back and, describing an elegant arc, flew right up to his face. It paused for a moment, then sharply flew away.
One of the boys next to Viktor, a chubby boy with round cheeks, exclaimed in surprise:
— Wow! Look, the Snitch stopped right in front of Harry!
Viktor looked at him.
— Is that so unusual?
— Very, — the boy nodded excitedly. — I've been a huge Quidditch fan and have been watching it since I was a child, but this is the first time I've ever seen the Snitch fly up to the Seeker on its own. Its main function is to avoid Seekers, not to fly toward them.
Viktor tore his gaze away from the field. The boy's words stuck in his head. He could have dismissed it as a coincidence, but as a wise turtle once said: "Coincidences are not coincidences." A switch flipped in Viktor's mind. Someone was helping Harry.
Viktor stood up abruptly and, without taking his eyes off the field, said to Daphne:
— You're in charge.
Without waiting for an answer, he easily jumped onto the railing separating the stands from the field and walked along it.
Daphne, looking away from the match, called out after him:
— Where are you going?
— I want to figure something out, — he replied without turning around.
Viktor moved along the narrow ledge calmly, as if he were taking a stroll in the park. Cries erupted in the stands, but he didn't slow his pace. He glanced at the field and saw that Harry was no longer handling his broom as skillfully. It was jerking and swaying from side to side, trying to throw him off. Then he quickly found Hermione, who was heading somewhere in a hurry, and smiled. He stopped paying attention to everything else, continuing to walk. Finally, he stopped, turned to face the stands, and looked up. He raised his head and met Dumbledore's gaze. Their eyes locked, and Viktor mouthed silently: "Decided to help your favorite?".
Dumbledore, as if he had heard the words, smirked back arrogantly. For the first time in his life, Viktor, who was used to irritating everyone with his smile, himself became angry at someone else's smirk. Pure rage flared in his eyes. He jumped back onto the stands, ignoring the cries of the people. He was no longer looking at Harry, who, thanks to Hermione, had already calmed down and was back on his broom. That didn't concern him. He was looking for the Snitch. Finally, finding it, he smirked and began to control the golden ball himself. Under the pressure of Viktor's magic, the Snitch obediently flew slowly towards the Slytherin Seeker.
But suddenly the Snitch stopped. Viktor felt someone hindering him. He hissed through clenched teeth: "Old man, don't piss me off!" Grabbing the railing of the stands, he applied more force to move the Snitch. But it remained in place, and this began to infuriate him even more. And imagining Dumbledore smirking, he lost control completely. His body trembled. Gripping the railing tighter, causing it to begin to break, he applied more force. The Snitch slowly, inch by inch, began to move. Viktor felt his temples pulsing, blood rushing to his face, but he wasn't going to stop. Suddenly, feeling even more pressure, the Snitch stopped and began to move towards Harry, who had already gotten back on his broom.
Viktor put all his magic into the Snitch, trying to stop it. Every part of his body was strained to the limit. Blood started to flow from his nose. But the Snitch did not stop moving. An aura began to emanate from him, and the wizards next to him began to move away. Blood gushed from his eyes as well as his nose, but a crazy smile was on his face. The Snitch finally began to stop, and this made Viktor's smile even crazier. When the Snitch, as if breaking free from his grip, continued to move towards Harry, the smile vanished from his face. Whispering a final word: "No!"—his consciousness began to shut down.
Viktor woke up to the strong smell of medicine. He tried to get up, but his head spun, and his body felt weak. Feeling someone holding his hand, he opened his eyes and saw Professor Dumbledore, with Snape standing next to him.
— Mr. Moss, what happened? — Dumbledore asked, his face completely calm, but his eyes looking at him with a hint of amusement.
Viktor pulled his hand away.
— Nothing. Just got sunstroke.
Snape scoffed.
— You managed to get sunstroke in autumn? Tell the truth, why did you lose consciousness?
— I already told you, — there was steel in Viktor's voice. — I got sunstroke.
Dumbledore did not take his eyes off him.
— Are you sure? Your body is exhausted. You look as if you were fighting with some powerful wizard.
Viktor smiled.
— You must be mistaken, Headmaster. What powerful wizard would compete with a child?
Snape, listening to them, understood that Dumbledore was to blame for Viktor's current condition and decided not to pry further, saying: "Get well," and left the ward.
— Do you hate me now, or do you blame me for Slytherin's loss?
Viktor sneered:
— No, I have no reason to hate you.
Dumbledore was surprised. He looked at him for a long time but didn't feel that Viktor was lying.
— Why? You don't even know what my motive was for giving Harry the victory.
— I don't care about the motive, — Viktor replied. — This world is subject to the law of the jungle: whoever is stronger is right. You are stronger, which means you are right, no matter what you do.
Dumbledore thought for a moment:
— You don't have the best views on life. That won't lead to anything good.
Viktor laughed.
— Maybe. It's all thanks to a happy childhood.
Dumbledore smiled sadly, then, deciding to change the subject, asked:
— Before I leave, is there anything you'd like to ask or request? After all, I do feel guilty for your condition.
— How badly did I lose? — Viktor asked. — You know, I'm very proud of my ability to magically control objects. In the mental hospital, I thought I had the power of telekinesis and I honed that skill. And I want to know: did I give you a good fight or not?
Dumbledore laughed.
— I didn't even try. But don't worry, if it were an ordinary adult wizard, they would have lost. Unless they're on Severus's level, of course. There it's not clear who would win.
Viktor sighed:
— You could be a little softer. Even though I asked for an honest answer, it's still hurtful.
— Ha-ha-ha, don't be offended, — Dumbledore said. — How long have you been training, five or six years? And I've been doing it my whole life. It's too early for you to fight a monster like me.
Viktor looked at him for a long time.
— I think it's time for you to go. At your age, it's harmful to stay up so late.
— Yes, you're right, it's time for me to go. Get well soon. If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to come to my office. The password is "lemon drop."
— Yep, and don't get sick, — Viktor replied. — At your age, it's bad. Any cold could be your last.
Dumbledore laughed.
— Thank you for your concern, you know, it's hard to find such caring students these days.
A vein throbbed on Viktor's forehead.
— Just get out already! — he snarled. — That's it! Visiting hours are over! The patient needs rest! GOODBYE!
Dumbledore, laughing, left the ward. When the door closed behind him, a pillow flew into it.
— That old man is so annoying, — Viktor whispered.