He walked a short distance away from the house before slowing, his steps steady as he moved further down the quiet street. The warmth and light from the Granger home faded behind him, replaced by the cold stillness of the night.
A faint smile touched his face.
"Well… the Ministry would be confused by my trace magic," he muttered under his breath, more amused than concerned.
He turned into a narrow alley between two houses, the space dim and empty. His eyes moved once across the surroundings, checking instinctively. No movement. No sound. No one watching.
That was enough.
He stepped forward—
—and vanished.
A second later, he reappeared at the edge of Malfoy Manor grounds. The familiar outline of the manor stood ahead, tall and imposing against the night.
From inside, faint sounds carried outward.
Laughter.
Voices.
The gathering was still going on.
He paused just outside the grounds, then reached into his coat and took out the small hourglass locket, the chain glinting faintly in the cold light.
"Good thing I have a Time-Turner," Victor said quietly, more to himself than anything else.
He steadied it between his fingers and rotated it twice.
The world shifted in a way that felt wrong for a brief moment—sound stretched thin, light bent slightly at the edges, and the air itself seemed to hesitate before settling again.
Then everything aligned.
Victor stood in the same place, on the same ground—
—but not at the same moment.
Ahead, near the edge of the grounds, he saw himself.
His past self moved exactly as expected, walking forward, pausing for a fraction of a second, then vanishing with the sharp crack of Apparition.
A faint smile formed.
"Again," he muttered under his breath, "something the Ministry won't be able to make sense of."
He slipped the Time-Turner back into his coat, his expression smoothing out as he turned toward the manor.
***
Christmas passed, and the castle filled again.
Students returned in waves, trunks dragged back through corridors, voices rising once more as Hogwarts slipped back into its usual rhythm. The brief quiet of the holidays vanished quickly, replaced by noise, movement, and routine.
Victor moved through it without paying much attention.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
Ginny.
The way she had been manipulated didn't sit right with him. In the version of events he knew, it had taken time—slow influence, gradual control. Here, it had happened faster, cleaner, almost as if something had accelerated the process.
That meant one thing.
Things weren't fixed.
This wasn't a story repeating itself.
It was reality.
And reality didn't follow structure.
Victor exhaled lightly, dismissing the thought for now. The problem of the year was already dealt with. The Chamber was closed, the threat removed, and the school had returned to normal.
For now.
His mind moved ahead.
Next year.
Just one event that mattered.
Sirius Black breaking out of Azkaban.
And behind that,
Peter Pettigrew.
Victor's expression shifted slightly at the thought.
He wanted him dead.
Not out of emotion, but calculation. Peter was weak, unreliable, and dangerous in the worst way—useful to the wrong side.
But killing him now would break something larger.
Peter was a key piece.
Without him, the return of Lord Voldemort would change. The ritual, the timing, the control over events—none of it would follow the path Victor already understood.
And that path mattered.
Because Voldemort had to return.
Victor needed that.
Without it, the final outcome wouldn't happen the way it should.
He walked forward, his pace steady, his thoughts already settling into place.
Some pieces couldn't be removed early.
They had to be used first.
"Victor, that scarf is ugly. Why are you wearing it?" Ron asked as they walked across the Hogwarts grounds, his nose slightly red from the cold, his tone casual in the way that usually caused problems a second later.
Victor didn't respond immediately.
Before he could, Hermione stopped.
She turned toward Ron slowly, her expression shifting in a way that made it very clear he had said something wrong.
The glare she gave him wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be.
Ron noticed.
"What?" he said, already defensive, though he had no idea why.
Hermione stepped closer, her voice controlled.
"That scarf," she said, "happens to be perfectly fine."
Ron blinked.
"I just said it looks—"
"You said it was ugly," Hermione cut in, her tone tightening. "There's a difference."
Ron glanced between the two of them, now starting to understand he had stepped into something without realizing it.
"I didn't mean—" he started, then stopped, trying again. "I was just saying it's not… his usual style."
Victor finally spoke.
"It isn't," he said calmly.
That didn't help Ron
Hermione turned her attention back to Victor for a brief second, then to Ron again, her expression still sharp.
"It's a gift," she said.
That was enough.
Ron froze for a moment, then looked back at Victor.
"Oh," he said, the realization hitting properly now. "Right. I—uh… didn't know that."
"I can tell."
Hermione let out a small huff and started walking again, clearly done with the topic, though the edge of her irritation hadn't fully faded.
Harry stepped in before Ron could make things worse.
"You know, Ron," he said, patting his shoulder, "you have a very troublesome mouth. It gets you into things you don't need to be in."
Ron frowned, still trying to recover.
"I said I didn't mean it like that," he muttered, though it sounded more like an excuse than a defense.
Victor glanced at him briefly.
"Trouble doesn't just appear," he said evenly. "You walk into it, say something unnecessary, and then act surprised when it comes back at you."
*****
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