After listening to the chaotic, overlapping explanations from Tom, Ron, and the now long-haired, wide-eyed Harley,
Viktor stared at the girl in front of him—shoulders hunched, face full of panic—and felt a splitting headache coming on.
What in Merlin's name is happening here?!
He'd only looked away for a moment, and Harry had become Harley.
He glanced at Tom, who was currently hanging his head and trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Then at Ron, whose shocked gaze hadn't left Harley for a single second.
Viktor rubbed his temples hard.
He reached into his pocket, rummaged around for a bit, and pulled out a rather sickly-looking toad.
He picked up the half-full test tube of potion still sitting in front of Tom, tilted it, and let a single drop fall into the toad's open mouth.
A few seconds later he lifted the toad, inspected it carefully, then let out a long breath of relief.
Thank goodness.
Tom hadn't caused a permanent disaster this time.
The potion wasn't irreversible. There was a way to fix it.
Unfortunately, even with Viktor's Potions knowledge, he couldn't tell how long the effect would last.
He'd have to ask Professor Snape once they got back to school.
If Harry ended up stuck as Harley forever because of Tom's nonsense… Viktor genuinely didn't know how he'd explain that to Dumbledore.
Now that the worst-case scenario was off the table, he relaxed slightly.
He looked again at the shell-shocked Harley, smacked his lips, and thought:
In a weird way… Tom's method isn't entirely wrong.
Compared to the previous reckless, hot-headed Gryffindor boy, this version of Harley looked… noticeably more presentable.
Standing there with long hair framing her face, eyes wide and a little teary—if she added just a touch of pout and a soft whine, the lethality would be off the charts.
Meeting the three pairs of eyes (two human, one feline) staring at him expectantly, Viktor waved a hand.
"Alright, no big problem. The potion isn't permanent. When we get back to Hogwarts, we'll have Professor Snape brew the antidote. You'll be fine."
All three—two humans and one cat—let out a collective sigh of relief.
Harley silently vowed in her heart: Never again will I drink any potion whose effects I don't fully understand.
With the crisis downgraded to "annoying but fixable," Viktor returned to the driver's seat.
He poured more magic into the car, floored the accelerator, and the enchanted Ford Anglia surged forward toward Hogwarts.
Once they knew the change was temporary, the tension in the back seat melted away.
Harley fidgeted uncomfortably—tugging at the front of her shirt, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
She glanced up and caught Ron staring openly, curiously.
Instinctively she ducked her head, cheeks warming.
She wasn't sure if it was the potion or something else, but she suddenly felt… different. Softer. More self-conscious.
Meanwhile, Tom—having confirmed he hadn't committed a capital crime—immediately perked back up.
He patted the still-gawking Ron on the shoulder, then proudly shoved the remaining potion vial toward him.
Ron's face changed instantly.
But after a moment's hesitation… his expression softened.
As the youngest Weasley boy (and the least remarkable compared to his talented older brothers), Ron had always been aware of the massive difference between how boys and girls were treated at home.
When Ginny messed up, she'd get a lighter scolding than he ever would. Sometimes his parents would even comfort her when she cried.
Looking at Harley now—scared one second, relieved the next, long hair falling softly around her face—something stirred in Ron's chest.
If Harry looked like this… even Snape might hesitate before unleashing a torrent of venom.
And if Professor McGonagall saw this version of Harry and softened even a little…
All sorts of strange thoughts flashed through Ron's mind.
Then he jolted, shook his head violently, and shoved the thoughts away.
What am I even thinking?!
He was supposed to be a good big brother. Turning into a girl—even temporarily—was out of the question.
With firm resolve he pushed the vial back toward Tom.
Tom looked mildly disappointed, shook his head with a sigh, then casually stuffed the potion back into… wherever things went when he hid them, and it vanished.
Under Viktor's full magical boost, the car's lady gave her all. Speed tripled.
Two hours later the flying Ford Anglia touched down smoothly on the lawn in front of Hogwarts' main gates.
Viktor had barely stepped out when a dark figure swept toward them—robes billowing like the wings of a giant bat.
Seeing the approaching bat, Viktor's eyes lit up. He waved cheerfully.
"Good afternoon, Professor Snape! Long time no see."
Snape's already pitch-black expression darkened three more shades at the sight of that smiling face.
Viktor Scamander.
The first true obstacle of his teaching career. The boy who had nearly ruined his reputation.
After Voldemort's fall, Severus had accepted Dumbledore's demand in a haze of grief and exhaustion—becoming Potions Master and Slytherin Head of House.
In his second year on the job, he'd watched Viktor lead Hufflepuff in a four-year guerrilla war that ended with Slytherins literally cornered in their own common-room fountain.
The scandal had been deafening. Pure-blood outrage. Pressure from all sides.
Dumbledore's inexplicable calm.
And the personal visit from the long-absent, world-famous magizoologist Newt Scamander.
All of it had seared Viktor Scamander—disguised Hufflepuff, true Gryffindor menace—into Snape's memory like acid.
Just as Snape opened his mouth to unleash the venom he'd been saving for years—
Viktor cheerfully opened the back door of the car and pulled out three small figures.
Ta-da! "Professor Snape—surprise!"
The instant Snape's eyes landed on the long-haired girl standing there—head lowered, fingers twisting nervously, radiating awkward shyness—
Every drop of poison he'd prepared died in his throat.
Those emerald-green eyes lifted cautiously to meet his.
For a heartbeat, something seized Snape's chest so hard he almost forgot how to breathe.