Read my new story (ilham20)
Hogwarts : Black family bloodline...
Hogwarts, my partner is Tom…
Hogwarts : He Starts by Deconstructing Avada Kedavra...
Chapter 18: Harry? × Harley! ✓
After helping the house-elves harvest enough fruit from the orchard,
Viktor returned to the Great Hall just before noon, trailed by a floating string of pilfered snacks and fresh fruit from the kitchens.
The vast hall stood empty and echoing.
Viktor flicked his wand.
Instantly, the banners of Hogwarts' four houses unfurled across the walls in their signature colours.
With another casual wave—professor privileges activated—four impossibly long tables materialised down the centre.
Under his direction the benches shuffled into perfect alignment like obedient ducklings.
The tables looked too bare.
Viktor flicked his wand again.
Several small blocks of chestnut wood he'd pulled from somewhere transformed mid-air into palm-sized, living little animals: eagles, serpents, lions, and badgers.
Each one blinked, stretched, and scampered playfully across the tables.
Munching on a popping berry, Viktor admired his handiwork with deep satisfaction.
He unfolded the parchment McGonagall had entrusted him with.
"Let's see what's left… last task: adjust the Great Hall ceiling."
"Honestly, I've been dying to play with this one."
His eyes lit up at the final item.
Without hesitation he raised his wand.
Sunlight vanished from overhead. Night fell across the hall in an instant.
A gentle tap—stars blinked into existence one after another across the velvet-black sky.
Twinkling constellations traced paths for lost travellers.
With a final upward flick, the dazzling aurora he'd once seen over Antarctica poured down like a living waterfall of green, purple, and rose.
And weaving through the shimmering curtains of light were magical creatures of every size and shape: phoenixes trailing fire, winged horses galloping on air, dragons twisting in lazy loops, house-elves chasing each other in delight, serpentine Occamies darting like ribbons.
Viktor tilted his head back, drinking in the finished masterpiece.
A high, delighted voice piped up beside him.
"Outstanding weather charms and exquisite Transfiguration, Viktor! Had this been during term, I would have awarded Hufflepuff five points on the spot!"
Viktor looked down with a grin.
"Professor Flitwick! Long time no see. I don't think it's too late to add those points now."
"Haha, of course not! Hufflepuff, five points—for your splendid weather magic!"
Both men burst out laughing.
"Truly delighted to have you back at Hogwarts, Viktor."
"The feeling's mutual, Professor."
As he spoke, Viktor flicked his wand once more.
A small cake floated over from the pile behind him and settled gently in front of Flitwick.
"Try this, Professor. The house-elves made it using a recipe I brought back from the Far East."
While Viktor chatted with Flitwick, the other professors began drifting into the hall.
The last to arrive was McGonagall—storming in like a force of nature.
Tom strutted proudly behind her, chest puffed out, clearly enjoying his borrowed authority.
Trailing at the very rear came a rather wilted-looking Dumbledore.
The moment Tom spotted Viktor's mountain of snacks and fruit, his eyes sparkled.
Whoosh—he zipped over and immediately started double-fisting treats with both paws.
Just as Tom was happily munching away, Viktor suddenly froze.
He grabbed the cat by the scruff, turned to the drooping Dumbledore, and said,
"Headmaster, Harry's getting bothered again. I'm going to check on him."
Dumbledore's wilted posture vanished instantly. He straightened, eyes bright.
"Right—go on ahead, Viktor. I'll contact Severus."
Watching the barely-suppressed glee on Dumbledore's face as he slipped away from McGonagall's ongoing lecture, Viktor couldn't help an internal eye-roll.
You're "contacting Severus," huh? More like rounding him up for another cockroach-cluster tea party in the office.
Out in the long corridor beyond the Great Hall doors, Dumbledore casually lifted the anti-Apparition ward.
Viktor and Tom vanished in a swirl of space.
Dumbledore watched them go, then started humming happily as he strolled back toward his office.
...
King's Cross Station, London.
In a quiet corner of the platform, space twisted once more.
Viktor and Tom appeared.
They walked to the familiar barrier between platforms nine and ten.
Viktor frowned slightly.
After casting a quick Confundus to keep Muggle eyes away, he pulled a handful of golden powder from his pocket and scattered it across the bricks.
Immediately a vision appeared in the shimmering dust:
Two small figures—lugging trunks and owl cages—ran full-tilt at the wall…
…and thunk—bounced straight off, tumbling backward in a heap.
The impact rang out crisp and clear. Two very solid heads.
After several more failed attempts, the two boys looked at each other, shrugged, turned around, sprinted out of the station, climbed into a nearby car—
—and the car promptly lifted off into the sky.
Viktor and Tom watched the golden-dust phantom soar away and vanish among the clouds.
Both smacked their lips in perfect unison.
"This Saviour really is peak Gryffindor. Can't get any peak-er."
Viktor shook his head in fond exasperation.
Without hesitation he pulled a broom from his pocket, tugged Tom onto the back, and shot after the flying car.
Wind roared past.
Soon the enchanted Ford Anglia flickered in and out of view ahead.
Viktor pulled alongside, rapped politely on the window, and grinned.
"Room for two more, gentlemen?"
Ron—behind the wheel—nearly jumped out of his skin.
Harry's face lit up.
"Professor Viktor!"
A moment of frantic scrambling later, the back door flew open.
Viktor stepped inside with Tom, gave the car a quick wave of his wand (Disillusionment Charm), and settled in.
Looking at the two wide-eyed, guilty-faced boys in front of him, Viktor sighed.
"If something goes wrong, why didn't you wait for an adult? Or contact the Ministry? Or send an owl?"
"If I hadn't gotten here in time, tomorrow's Prophet headlines would be nothing but 'Flying Car Terrorises London Skies'."
Both boys paled instantly. They clearly hadn't thought that far ahead.
"We… we're sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled. "We were afraid we'd miss the train to Hogwarts…"
"Save the apologies for Professor McGonagall," Viktor said, rubbing both their heads in turn. "The house-elf started it, sure, but you two still made some very bad choices. Think hard about how you're going to explain this when we get back."
He let them sit properly in the back, then slid into the driver's seat with open curiosity.
Time to examine this alchemical marvel of a flying car up close.
In the rear, Harry and Ron exchanged panicked glances.
"Harry, what do we do? We're definitely getting expelled. We broke the Statute of Secrecy!"
Ron sounded like he was already writing his own obituary.
Harry clenched his jaw.
"Ron—if it comes to that, just say it was all my idea. I dragged you into it."
"No way, Harry. If anyone's getting expelled, it should be me. It's my dad's car. I was driving."
"Wait—Professor said it wasn't all our fault. Maybe we can figure something out."
The two boys huddled together, desperately brainstorming excuses for McGonagall.
"This won't work—she'll never believe it!"
"What about this?"
"…"
Watching the two miserable little Gryffindors, Tom scratched his head.
Boing! A cartoon lightbulb popped above his ears.
He tugged Harry's sleeve.
When Harry turned, confused, Tom thumped his own chest confidently.
Then—right in front of their astonished eyes—he reached behind himself and pulled out… a milk basin.
Next came a chaotic avalanche: random ingredients, bubbling potions, miscellaneous junk—piled high in front of the cat and the two boys.
Finally Tom produced a bottle of fresh milk, peeled off the cap, licked it spotlessly clean with great solemnity…
…and—with visible heartbreak—poured the entire bottle into the basin.
Harry and Ron stared, jaws on the floor, as Tom slipped into full "master potion-maker" mode.
He produced a tiny monocle from nowhere, perched it on his face, and assumed an expression of utmost gravity.
First he plucked a single shrivelled leaf from the pile with pinpoint claw precision, held it to the light, nodded approval, and flicked it into the basin like a frisbee.
Poof—a thin thread of pale purple smoke rose, smelling faintly of mint and old socks.
Next, tail tip curled delicately around a vial of glittering crushed-beetle-shell powder.
A careful pinch went in.
The milk immediately began to bubble and shift from creamy white to soft, pearlescent gold.
"Merlin's beard…" Ron whispered.
Tom shot him a sharp shhh claw.
Then came the pièce de résistance: a violently coloured mushroom that screamed "do not eat."
Tom wrung it between both paws like a wet towel. A few drops of electric-blue juice dripped in.
The basin erupted into furious boiling—gold and blue flashing wildly, hissing like an angry kettle.
Still perfectly calm, Tom produced a tiny salt shaker, circled the basin three times with theatrical ceremony…
…and sprinkled in a casual pinch.
"Is that… seasoning?" Harry couldn't help asking.
Tom gave him a look that clearly said amateur—stay quiet.
After the "salt," the flashing stabilised. The liquid settled into a clear, pearl-sheened pale blue—calm as a summer lake.
Final touch: Tom lifted a test tube filled with something that bubbled in seven different colours.
With utmost reverence he poured it slowly around the rim.
Sizzle—
A plume of white smoke rose, scented with strawberry cake, fresh parchment, and rain-wet grass. Tiny star patterns flickered briefly inside it.
The test tube's contents merged into a dreamy, silver-flecked lavender—perfectly still, smelling irresistibly sweet.
Tom removed his monocle, wiped nonexistent sweat from his brow, and struck a proud pose.
He pointed at the finished potion, then at Harry and Ron, mimed drinking it with exaggerated bliss, and gave them a huge thumbs-up.
"This is… for us to drink?" Harry asked uncertainly. "So we won't get in trouble?"
Tom nodded vigorously, pushed the basin closer, eyes shining with encouragement.
Harry and Ron exchanged a long look—hesitation, hope, desperation.
The potion looked weirder than anything Snape ever brewed, but it smelled amazing.
And Tom's whole performance had been… weirdly professional.
Plus he belonged to Professor Viktor, who was clearly powerful and kind.
Maybe—just maybe—it would work.
Harry steeled himself first. He lifted the basin and drank half in several determined gulps.
He set it down, licked his lips appreciatively.
Honestly? It tasted incredible—better than anything he'd ever drunk.
But after swallowing… nothing obvious happened.
Just a faint tickle in his throat and chest.
He looked at Tom questioningly.
Before he could speak—
Everything went black for a second.
Harry reached up—and felt long hair spilling over his shoulders.
"Tom!"
The instant he spoke, horror flooded him.
He clapped both hands over his mouth.
Ron yelped from the seat beside him.
"Harry—your voice!"
Viktor—busy helping the car "lady" with her bodywork—snapped his head around.
His eyes landed on the back seat.
His face went dark.
"TOMMMMMM~!!"