The low murmur of the common room was punctuated by the rustle of robes and the clatter of breakfast plates as Monday morning arrived. Viktor, Claire, and Hailey joined the stream of students heading for the Great Hall, a familiar blend of anticipation and nervous energy buzzing in the air. This was it: their first day of classes at Hogwarts.
Their morning began with Transfiguration under Professor McGonagall. Her sharp eyes missed nothing, and she quickly established an air of disciplined authority. Viktor found himself watching her, a quiet awe settling in his chest. To be taught by such a legend, to see her precise wand movements and hear her clear instructions, was a privilege he savored. When she demonstrated transforming a matchstick into a needle, Viktor, without a moment's hesitation, performed the incantation and wand movement perfectly. His matchstick elongated, thinned, and gleamed into a fully formed needle on his first try, drawing a rare, approving nod from McGonagall.
Next was Charms with Professor Flitwick. The tiny, excitable professor commanded attention with his booming voice and enthusiastic demonstrations. Viktor found his cheerful energy infectious, a pleasant contrast to McGonagall's stern precision. The introductory levitation charm, Wingardium Leviosa, was a breeze. While others struggled with the precise swish and flick, Viktor's feather soared effortlessly.
Potions with Professor Snape was as chilling as Viktor remembered. The dungeon classroom was cold, and Snape's voice, a low sneer, cut through the air. He moved among the cauldrons like a predatory shadow, his disdain for Gryffindors palpable. Viktor followed the instructions meticulously, his comprehensive understanding of magical theory allowing him to perfectly balance the ingredients and control the heat. His potion bubbled perfectly, ignoring the simmering tension in the room. Snape gave his cauldron a perfunctory glance, a flicker of something akin to approval in his dark eyes before he moved on.
After lunch, they endured History of Magic with Professor Binns. The ghostly professor's monotone lecture about ancient goblin rebellions had Viktor fighting yawns, a battle he knew he was destined to lose in this particular class. It was the only subject where his extensive self-study couldn't entirely overcome the sheer tedium.
Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Bearnard May was a stark, refreshing change. Professor May was a tall, lean man with a stern expression and a crisp, no-nonsense delivery. "This is not a theoretical exercise," he announced, his voice devoid of any pretense. "You are here to learn to defend yourselves. Discipline, precision, and quick thinking are paramount." He immediately launched into practical wand movements for a disarming charm, assigning drills and demanding perfection. The class was challenging, but invigorating. Viktor's shield charms were firm, his disarming attempts precise, leaving Professor May giving him a scrutinizing, yet satisfied, look.
Their day concluded with the earthy warmth of the greenhouses for Herbology with Professor Sprout. She was a kind, cheerful witch, guiding them through the basics of potting mandrakes with a practical, nurturing approach. Viktor's plant identification was quick, his handling of the shrieking mandrakes deft.
Throughout the day, Viktor noticed something remarkable. Thanks to his relentless self-study and the System's guidance, the lessons weren't new information; they were refinements, practical applications of knowledge he already possessed. He found himself answering questions with ease, understanding concepts that seemed to puzzle his classmates.
His comprehensive magical abilities were at a Level 6.5 (Advanced) in general magic, with his Occlumency at Level 7 (Mastered), and his understanding of even the most complex first-year spells was effortless. His grasp on the curriculum, across nearly every subject except for the soporific History of Magic, felt comparable to at least a sixth-year students.
However, the sheer volume of homework assigned on their first day was still staggering. Charms essays, Transfiguration diagrams, Potions preparation notes, and Defense Against the Dark Arts drills piled up. Viktor knew his self-writing quill would handle most of it, but the thought of supervising it and reviewing the output was still an annoying chore. It mired the initial joy of excelling.
The trio reconvened in the common room after dinner, tired but buzzing from their first taste of Hogwarts academics.
"Professor May is terrifying," Hailey declared, flopping onto a sofa. "But I think I actually learned something."
"His homework assignment alone could fill a small book," Claire added, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And don't even get me started on Binns. I swear I nearly fell asleep standing up."
Viktor nodded. "Binns is... a challenge. But the others are excellent. I feel like I've known this material for years." He then brought them back to their earlier ambition. "Speaking of material, remember our goal? To truly explore Hogwarts, uncover its secrets?"
Hailey's eyes brightened. "The secret passages! The hidden rooms!"
"Exactly, I know something that can help us" Viktor said. "It's a map of Hogwarts. On it, there are all the secret passages and locations. It shows absolutely everything, even everyone in the castle. It's the ultimate key to Hogwarts."
"How do you even know such a thing exists?" Claire asked, her analytical mind already at work.
Viktor smiled mysteriously. "A legend, really. A brilliant, albeit mischievous, person who once went to Hogwarts made it. They were caught with it, and Filch, thinking it was something illegal but unable to prove it, kept it locked away in his desk. That person... They told me how to use it." He winked.
"Who was it?" Hailey pressed, intrigued.
"Oh, I can't name names," Viktor replied playfully, waving a dismissive hand. "But trust me, the information is reliable. According to my... sources," Viktor hedged, "it's currently in Filch's office. A highly secure, forbidden area."
Hailey gasped. "Filch's office? We can't just break in!"
"Precisely," Viktor agreed. "Which is why we need a different approach. The least suspicious way to get inside would be to get caught doing something minor that warrants a visit to Filch's office for detention."
"A deliberate infraction... but one that won't land us in too much trouble," Claire mused. "Something that sends us to the caretaker, not Dumbledore."
They debated various minor offenses. Leaving a mess in the common room? No, the prefects would deal with that. Out past curfew? Too risky, and might lead to worse punishment.
"What about the Restricted Section of the library?" Hailey suddenly suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "It's forbidden, but if we plan it right, the consequences should be tolerable. Filch handles the punishments for school rule-breaking, so if Madam Pince catches us, she'd likely send us to him."
"Yes!" Viktor's eyes lit up. "That's perfect! It's a calculated risk. And I'll go alone. It's less risky if only one of us gets caught."
"But then how will you get the map out?" Claire asked.
"You two will create a distraction," Viktor explained. "A big, loud, bombastic kind."
That evening, after dinner, Viktor excused himself from the common room, feigning the need to do some "extra research" for his DADA homework. He navigated the quiet corridors to the library, his heart thumping a steady rhythm against his ribs. The vast hall was dim, the bookshelves looming like sleeping giants.
He found the chains to the Restricted Section, shimmering faintly in the low light. With a quick glance around to ensure Madam Pince wasn't lurking, he drew his wand. "Alohomora," he whispered, aiming it at the chains. With a metallic clunk and a grating squeal, the heavy, enchanted chains sprang open with far more noise than he'd anticipated. The sudden din echoed loudly through the silent library. Viktor winced, genuinely scrambling to quiet the still-jangling chains, trying to push them back into place to muffle the sound.
"Trying to sneak into the Restricted Section, are we, Mr. Ivanov?" A voice, cold and sharp as an icicle, cut through the silence.
Viktor spun around to see Madam Pince, her face a mask of furious disapproval, glaring at him from between two towering bookshelves. Her eyes were like twin lasers, fixed on his transgression. He knew he'd been caught. Swiftly.
Madam Pince wasted no time. With an indignant huff, she marched him straight to the caretaker's office. When Filch spotted Viktor, a first-year being marched in by Pince, his face lit up with sadistic glee.
"A first-year, already?" Filch cackled, rubbing his hands together, his breath smelling faintly of dust and old vinegar. "This is a rare treat, Madam Pince. I'll take him from here. We have so much to discuss about rules and order."
Just as Filch reached for Viktor's ear, a cacophony erupted from down the corridor. From a room just next to Filch's office, loud crashes and bangs sounded, like hundreds of metallic items falling.
"OOOH! PEEVESY'S HERE!" a high-pitched, mischievous cackle echoed, followed by another delighted, destructive laugh.
The girls had delivered. They had gathered every loose pot, pan, and empty armor piece they could find from a nearby storage room, levitating them into a precarious stack. Just as Filch took hold of Viktor, they had vanished, letting the entire chaotic pile tumble with a deafening clang. The noise, the pure opportunity for mayhem, was irresistible to the poltergeist. Peeves, drawn by the ruckus, descended upon the scene, ready to cause glorious havoc.
Filch's eyes bulged, his face contorting from glee to pure, unadulterated fury. The sound of Peeves causing mayhem was his ultimate torment. He stood frozen, torn between the delicious prospect of punishing Viktor and the unbearable thought of Peeves destroying the corridor.