Lycos was quite pleased.
In many respects, things might still be uncertain—but when it came to money, few students at Hogwarts could rival Draco Malfoy's allowance.
Just like that, the issue of being short on funds was resolved. At the very least, Lycos wouldn't have to live so frugally at Hogwarts in the foreseeable future.
But now… another problem had arisen.
"So... how exactly am I supposed to deal with this big, scorched patch?"
Resting his chin on his finger, Lycos stared at the wall beside the dormitory door with deep concern.
When the Killing Curse struck a living creature, it attacked the soul directly—ripping it from the body in an instant, causing a painless and immediate death.
No wounds. No visible injuries. Nothing left on the surface.
But if the curse hit anything non-living... that's when things got messy. The soul-level force morphed into destructive physical energy—heat, pressure, impact. Burning. Blasting.
And now? A wide patch of the wall had been seared black, the elegant green wallpaper reduced to brittle ashes scattered on the floor.
Anyone walking into this room would immediately know: a powerful spell had been cast. Which was… very bad news for someone trying to keep their magical abilities a secret.
"Maybe we could try a Mending Charm?" Draco offered tentatively from the side.
"Excellent idea," Lycos said, turning toward him. "So… do you know how to cast one?"
"Er… no," Draco muttered awkwardly.
Lycos shrugged, raised his wand, and gave it a try anyway.
"Reparo."
Nothing happened. Not even a flicker.
"Yeah. Looks like I can't either." He spread his hands in resignation.
Draco stared at him in shock, his worldview slightly shaken.
How could someone capable of casting Avada Kedavra, the most dangerous of the Unforgivable Curses… not know a basic repair spell?
"Whoa—did you really do that, Hayden?" Crabbe finally squeezed his way through the doorway and gaped at the blackened scorch mark. "That's so cool! We should leave it there!"
"Show some respect. That's boss you're talking about," Goyle added, sidling up with a devoted expression.
In mere minutes, he had already adapted to the idea that Lycos was now their leader, even adopting the mannerisms of a loyal lackey.
Lycos rubbed his temples.
Honestly, to find not one but two complete fools in a single Slytherin dormitory… a rare treasure indeed.
"Forget it. I'll handle it myself." He waved a hand. "Goyle, if the prefect's still in the common room, go ask him to copy the class schedule from the bulletin board with a Doubling Charm."
"Make sure it's on a big enough piece of parchment. It needs to completely cover that stain."
Lycos thought he'd been clear enough. But when he turned back, Goyle was still standing there, frozen.
"Boss… what's a class schedule?" Goyle asked gravely.
"…Never mind. Draco, you go," Lycos sighed, glancing upward. "I really can't trust those two with anything."
Draco didn't seem surprised. He was long used to his two followers' lack of… insight.
"No wonder you're our boss—I can't believe I didn't think of that!" He grinned and gave Lycos a thumbs-up before dashing out to find the prefect before bedtime.
---
Five minutes later, Lycos clapped his hands together with satisfaction.
Crabbe and Goyle had clumsily swept up the burnt debris into the green-flamed fireplace. The floor was clean, the mess was gone.
And now, a large class schedule was tacked to the wall beside the door, completely covering the black scorch mark.
For a moment, their dormitory even looked a little scholarly—almost like a model example for eager students.
"All right, mission accomplished," Lycos said to his three roommates. "Let's all get some sleep. We've got Charms first thing tomorrow."
With that, he extinguished the candles and climbed into his bed by the window.
Crabbe and Goyle, ever obedient, flopped onto their beds in sync—and within two seconds, the dormitory was filled with deafening snores from the two beds closest to the door.
"AAAAHH—Are you two literal pigs?!"
Lycos lay in bed as Draco shrieked, leapt up, and angrily stormed over to slap both of his followers awake.
"From now on, you two aren't allowed to fall asleep until I and the boss are already asleep!"
Lycos rolled onto his side and, stifling a chuckle, glanced at the two sulking boys standing like bodyguards by the door before turning back to stare into the darkness outside the window.
But instead of fresh air, the view from the Slytherin dormitory offered something stranger: the inky blackness of the lake.
Bioluminescent creatures occasionally drifted by, casting shimmering light through the water and across the glass…
Watching the scene outside, Lycos slowly drifted off, his amber-gold eyes sliding shut.
---
"You know kid… We're very much alike… in magical talent, in spirit, even in appearance…"
Half-asleep, Lycos vaguely heard a hoarse voice speaking to him.
It sounded familiar… Wait, yes—that was something Voldemort had said in Quirrell's office, wasn't it?
Figures. The Dark Lord had left such an impression that even in sleep, Lycos was haunted by the man's voice.
"You've done a great service for me, boy. Now tell me—what is it you desire most?"
Lycos frowned. That line felt… new.
He was sure Voldemort hadn't said that in the office.
Curious, he opened his eyes—
Rustle... rustle…
The first thing he heard was the sound of wind stirring leaves.
Then, a vast stretch of green came into view… a boundless forest stretched out before him, thick with the scent of damp earth, alive with the chirping of cicadas and birdsong.
"What is this place…?" Lycos muttered, stunned.
Before he could orient himself, he felt his lips begin to move without his consent, speaking unfamiliar words.
"Ah… so you want to learn magic…" the hoarse voice came again from somewhere beside him.
Lycos turned instinctively—and saw a gaunt, feral-looking wolf.
A large, terrifying growth bulged from the side of the wolf's neck. It had split into three cracks, forming a distorted human face…
"In that case, I need to see your potential. Only the truly gifted can become a wizard."
The hoarse voice was coming directly from the face growing out of the wolf's tumor.