Saturday morning was the ideal time for training. Dozens of students from various years filled the entire space of the Dueling Club hall. Some were warming up in the corners, others were observing the sparring matches presided over by Professor Flitwick, who acted as arbiter. Between duels, he would circulate among the other practitioners, offering advice, teaching something, assigning exercises, and so on. Everything was as usual.
Arcturus Malfoy's wand lazily traced figure eights in the air, occasionally firing a spell at the target before him — a warm-up, but he did it with an air of complete detachment, as if the activities around him were of no concern whatsoever. In reality, he was merely biding his time, preparing for something. And simultaneously, he was analyzing everyone around him, but this was more of a habit, second nature by now.
"Malfoy!"
The voice rang out unexpectedly loud, cutting through the general murmur. Arcturus turned and saw Edrian Vance striding directly towards him with a confident step. The Head Boy looked as he always did, but someone who knew him well might have noted a slight uncertainty. Fortunately, there was no one like that here.
Vance approached Malfoy, and this clearly boded nothing good for Malfoy. At least, the half-goblin, whose mastery extended far beyond his title of Master of Charms, frowned at the sight.
The professor threw a questioning glance at Arcturus, then at Vance. The situation was reminiscent of the previous Saturday. The same Head Boy, in the same place, with the same order from Minerva McGonagall.
"Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick called out, deciding to approach them with short but quick steps. "Are they trying to deprive you of your club activities again this time?"
Arcturus raised his shoulders in a shrug, saying nothing. Flitwick looked at Vance with clear displeasure.
"Professor…"
"Mr. Vance, allow me to note that this is the second time recently you have come to someone else's activity. Interrupting Mr. Malfoy's practice in such a manner…" the professor said, shaking his head. "You know, your manner of appearing and disappearing is starting to… irritate me. How can a Ravenclaw be so tactless!"
Silence fell over the hall. All the duelists stared at the unfolding scene, observing the absurd picture of the Ravenclaw Head of House defending a Slytherin against a Ravenclaw, and the Head Boy at that. For the second week in a row! And one rarely saw Flitwick displeased.
"I… I apologize, Professor," Vance replied with a slight hesitation. "But it is the Deputy Headmistress's order to escort Arcturus Malfoy to the Headmaster's tower."
"Yes, yes, I understand," Flitwick interrupted, not taking his narrowed gaze off him. "Only, by the second time, Mr. Malfoy is perfectly capable of getting to the Headmaster on his own. And if not, and he requires assistance, I can escort him myself."
Flitwick stepped forward, demonstratively showing how much he disliked having his session, even a club session, interrupted. Vance, meanwhile, began to show signs of nervousness, which was strange given his usual confidence in his own righteousness. He wasn't lying, was he?
Last week, despite the pressure from Flitwick, he hadn't been nervous at all.
"Professor Flitwick," the calm Arcturus interjected. "I think it's alright. If Professor McGonagall insists, then I suppose I need to go now."
Flitwick turned to him with concern.
"Are you sure? This isn't by chance related to your duel yesterday? I think there's some misunderstanding here." Then the half-goblin added with a squint: "Or have you done something wrong? I would like to get to the bottom of this. Mr. Vance?"
Flitwick's enthusiasm on this matter caused genuine surprise. The professor's intuition was remarkable, but for some reason, Arcturus decided not to accept the Charms professor's help.
"I haven't done anything, Professor. And… and thank you for your concern."
Flitwick, despite not approving of yesterday's duel, as it had stemmed from school squabbles and Slytherin manipulations, was genuinely trying to help a student in whom he saw such great potential. Besides, he had very much enjoyed the duel, even if it was a bit harsh for Hogwarts, but such was the order of duels of this type: to first blood.
Flitwick hesitated but finally nodded.
"Well, next time I will definitely speak with Headmaster Dumbledore. I wouldn't want to disrupt the sessions like this every week, for you and the other members of the Dueling Club."
Vance gave a short nod and turned towards the exit. Arcturus followed him. Concern was evident in the professor's eyes.
When they exited the Dueling Club hall and the door closed behind them, Arcturus broke the silence first.
"Listen, Vance, I remember the way to the Headmaster. I can get there myself; you surely have more important things to do."
"No," Vance replied to everything at once, not even turning his head. "First, we need to go to Professor McGonagall. She is waiting for us in her office."
"I know the way to the Deputy Headmistress's office too," Arcturus shrugged. "I'm not a first-year."
Vance finally stopped and looked at him. His gaze was, as usual, that of an arrogant dandy… as always with Vance, but there was some nervousness that Arcturus was deliberately trying not to notice.
"Fine, but we're going the same way anyway. What difference does it make?"
"I would prefer to go alone."
"Malfoy, enough arguing. Let's go."
Arcturus reluctantly nodded, and they headed towards McGonagall's office. They walked in silence for a few minutes. The silence was heavy and unnatural. By this point, Vance should have been gloating, as he clearly felt superior, but something was wrong.
Soon they turned towards the main staircases; there they were lucky to quickly descend one flight, then a second. However, Vance then deliberately delayed, allowing a moving staircase to change direction, preventing them from descending further. Otherwise, they would have been at the Deputy Headmistress's office in a couple of minutes.
"Vance," Arcturus suddenly said, stopping. "You're going the wrong way. We need the main staircase to get down to the second floor, but this wing leads to the old classrooms."
Arcturus noted the empty corridors out of the corner of his eye.
"This is faster," Vance threw over his shoulder, not even turning around. "I know a shortcut."
Arcturus hesitated but then followed him. Which was even stranger. With each turn, the corridors became darker and more deserted. Even the portraits disappeared — only bare stone walls and the occasional torch, whose light struggled to dispel the gloom.
Students were rarely seen in crowded places at this time, and now, here, they had completely vanished from sight.
They walked through the long corridors, and Vance remained silent. Malfoy watched his companion out of the corner of his eye, noting every little detail. But he wasn't noting the oddities to confirm what was happening, but to learn from the mistakes for the future.
Meanwhile, Arcturus kept an expression of mild boredom on his face. But it was gradually beginning to give way to agitation, as they were certainly not taking the shortest route.
They passed some long-abandoned classroom, turned into a corridor without a single living painting. It was as quiet as a tomb here.
Arcturus stopped.
"You know," he said calmly, "I think I'll follow Flitwick's advice and take the path I know, the normal way."
He turned to leave, but Vance's voice stopped him.
"I am the Head Boy, Malfoy. You should trust me."
Vance's smile was disgusting — crooked and unnatural, like a mask stretched over his face.
"I don't trust you," Arcturus replied without turning around. "Besides, I know an even shorter path. Good luck getting to the office quickly. I'll meet you there."
He took a step back towards the turn, but didn't make it. Two figures emerged from around the corner.
The broad-shouldered Jacob Farmus, wand in hand, and another Gryffindor, a tall sixth-year with an insolent expression, whom Arcturus had seen a couple of times in the corridors but didn't know his name.
"What an unexpected encounter," Farmus drawled.
"Is this the slippery bastard who won the duel unfairly?" his companion asked mockingly, as if Malfoy wasn't there, as if he hadn't seen yesterday's duel.
"The very same."
Arcturus shifted his gaze from him to the second, then slowly turned to Vance. He was watching with a crooked smile, then turned and walked further. As if nothing had happened.
"Rookwood couldn't have lost to you, Malfoy," Farmus continued, approaching. "So you must have done something to him before the duel. You've even surpassed your own house and acted as dishonorably as possible. It's a disgrace… Malfoy!"
"Your words are already an insult," Arcturus noted evenly, but there was no fear in his voice — only slight mockery.
"I don't care," Farmus cut him off. "I'm not afraid of rats who set up a student from their own house… a prefect. Everything comes back around, Malfoy. Justice works like Accio. It's time to pay for your offenses. For all that slander. And for the deceased Answorth too."
At the mention of Benedict Answorth, Arcturus slightly raised an eyebrow.
"Answorth is missing, not dead," he said, backing away and smiling nervously. "Or maybe you're involved in that, Farmus? Why are you so sure he's dead?"
Farmus flinched as if struck. His face twisted with anger.
"I didn't want to have this kind of showdown with a third-year; I didn't like the idea, despite the rot inside you," he hissed through his teeth. "But since you're so vile and persistent, then it'll be fine, because I will be on the side of truth. Consider this… a disciplinary measure. You white-haired freak."
Arcturus didn't wait. He spun around and ran towards the retreating Vance, who walked on as if nothing was happening.
"Vance!" Arcturus shouted, catching up to him. "Did you arrange this!? Are you in cahoots with them!?"
Vance didn't even turn his head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Arcturus glanced back. Farmus and the second Gryffindor had followed him, smirking. But worse was yet to come — from the front, around a corner, two more emerged. Again, upper-years. One of them was Higgs, Farm's inseparable friend. A nasty smirk and confidence were what united all these Gryffindors today.
Arcturus was trapped between two pairs of Gryffindors in an empty corridor with no chance of escape. The trap had snapped shut.
"Vance, are you completely insane?" Arcturus exhaled, backing towards the wall. "You're the Head Boy! Stop this! If not, I promise you, I won't forgive this. And the Malfoys keep their word!"
Higgs, hearing this, burst out laughing.
"Keep their word?" he repeated, approaching. "You must be delirious! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Arcturus, with desperation in his voice, shouted at Vance's retreating back:
"Vance, please! Stop them! I apologize if I offended you, but this is too much! They want to hurt me. Do you even understand the consequences!?"
Vance didn't even look back. He simply walked further down the corridor, and when he drew level with the advancing Gryffindors, they parted, letting him pass. Not a word, not a glance — as if they didn't even notice him. As intended.
"Don't cry!" someone from the surrounding group shouted. "It's only justice, nothing more."
Arcturus was left alone. Four Gryffindors surrounded him on both sides, cutting off any possibility of escape.
"Guys, let's be reasonable," Arcturus began, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "We can discuss everything. Peacefully and without foolishness. Why do you need the trouble?"
"We treat dishonorable people dishonorably," Farmus grinned. "You deserve this, Malfoy. As do all followers of You-Know-Who. I think you know who I mean. Malfoy."
Arcturus's gaze darted from one to another. All these upper-years seemed to have long forgotten that before them was just a third-year… a thirteen-year-old boy. They were determined to hurt someone who hurt others. And all for such an indirect reason… an adult would shake their head, but what if things aren't as they seem?
What if, just for a moment, one considered that the world is not as it appears? What if the situation belongs not to the one who considers himself the winner, but to the one pretending to be the loser? What if a face can deceive? What if a simple act could achieve more than an intricate scheme? And what if one cast Bombarda at the wall? All these questions might have arisen in the Gryffindors' minds, but they were only spinning on Arcturus's face, which, upon seeing Vance disappear, showed not fear for his life, but a satisfied smile. A smile so predatory that he had to hide it, pitifully lowering his head, otherwise they might have sensed the trick.
Against four upper-years in open combat, there was almost no chance, even for another upper-year… even from the Dueling Club! But the key word here is almost.
But was Arcturus Malfoy, descendant of two noble houses, one of which was also the darkest, just some mediocre upper-year duelist?
"Aren't you afraid, jackals, that I'll hunt you down later?" Arcturus's voice was full of steel.
"Malfoy, don't worry, you won't even remember our faces after a couple of months in the hospital wing," Higgs hissed, stepping forward. And perhaps he didn't mean what came to Malfoy's mind, but it no longer mattered.
He dared, and at these words, for one brief moment, Malfoy's face changed. The feigned panic he had been displaying all this time faltered, and something completely different flickered in his eyes. Cold and angry… dark and terrible. This moment of lost control passed so quickly that no one paid it any mind. And that was a mistake…
The next instant, the mask of the victim was back in place, and Higgs didn't even realize which string he had struck in the soul of the one he intended to break.
They say the most perfect disguise for a monster is the role of the victim. It makes you feel superior to them. They are so convincing in their role that you begin to feel your power over them. A second before they tear your throat out.
They didn't understand what spark had flared in the depths of those limitless, sky-blue eyes when that arrogant "you won't even remember" was uttered. The long-forgotten Black Rage, which once frightened any sensible wizard in Europe, stirred in the boy's chest and reached out with hot tentacles towards his mind. Usually, he quickly extinguished this fire to prevent it from blazing, blinding, destroying everything around. This time, however, he decided to finally show himself why this primordial rage was considered a double-edged sword, capable of killing not only its master but also the enemy.
He decided, for the first time, to kindle the fury rather than quell it. To direct it, control it. But it turned out that kindling it was also no easy task, though much easier than controlling it. Especially when given fuel.
Destroy that which threatens to destroy you.
When he spoke, there wasn't a trace of the feigned panic from a minute ago in his voice. No fear, no doubt. Only the terrifying rasp of cold anger, just beginning to blaze.
"Well, then. If you insist…" he began, each word falling into the silence of the corridor like a stone into black water. "…then I suppose, I shall…"
He turned his head, taking in each of them. In his eyes was something that made the blood run cold. It was not the look of a cornered beast, oh no. It was a predator who had just decided he was tired of playing the victim.
"…kill you all."
Arcturus's smile was terrifying and utterly empty.
Higgs, who had felt that murderous gaze first, was also the first to break. Malfoy had turned his back to him, wandless, and seemed completely focused on Farmus and his companion. A strike from behind, and he would be as helpless as a fish on dry land.
Petrificus Totalus flew from his wand, but the young wizard, as if sensing the air being cut by the spell, took a light step, and the Petrificus, grazing the distant stone wall, fizzled out without a trace. But at that moment, along with the step, a powerful clot of energy flew from the hands of the "unarmed" Malfoy. A wandless analogue of Flipendo, charged with magical energy, swept the attacker off his feet.