"And with those final words, the strange snake vanished from the powerful wizard's grasp. All that remained was the stunned wizard… and the fresh, bloody bite mark on his backside."
By the time Viktor finished, both little witches had their mouths hanging open in pure shock.
The snake's revenge across time was clearly the wildest thing they'd ever heard.
While the girls were still processing the story, Viktor reached into his pocket again. This time he pulled out a small insulated thermos and four teacups. He poured four steaming cups of milk tea and passed them around.
Ginny accepted hers automatically, took a small sip, then immediately leaned forward.
"What happened next, Professor?"
"After that? Well, the wizard became obsessed with finding the snake that chased its own tail. He used his Time Hourglass again and again, traveling through time multiple times."
"But no matter how many jumps he made, he never encountered the snake again—the one that had gone back through history just to bite him once in revenge."
"Eventually, during one of those journeys, the wizard himself became lost in the river of time. He never returned."
"The Time Hourglass he had worked so hard to create shattered during that final, fatal trip."
"Fragments of it were fought over by wizards from all over the world. Most of the precious history-laden sand grains he'd collected were wasted. Only a tiny portion was salvaged and remade into smaller devices—today we call them Time-Turners."
"And in all the years since, no one who studied time with a Time-Turner ever came across any record of that strange tail-chasing snake in the wizard's old notes."
Viktor finished the tale, lifted his cup, and drained the rest of his milk tea in one satisfied gulp.
"Wow…"
Both girls let out the exact same awed breath at the same moment.
Ginny recovered first. "So Professor… could the magical creatures Luna keeps seeing—like the ones no one else can—maybe take her on time-travel adventures or something?"
Viktor laughed and stood up, reaching down to ruffle both girls' hair affectionately.
"That, I don't know. If those little creatures have any special abilities, you two will have to be the ones to figure them out."
He gave them a gentle but firm smile. "Alright—story time after lunch is officially over. Back to the castle with you."
"Awww… okay. Thank you, Professor! We'll study really hard!"
The two first-years accepted Viktor's parting gifts—one fragrant "crab leg" each—then waved goodbye reluctantly and headed back toward the castle, already chattering nonstop about the snake that crossed centuries just to bite a wizard's butt in revenge.
Viktor watched their retreating figures with a fond smile, then stretched lazily.
"Nargles, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks… that little witch really has a gift. Shame she ended up in Ravenclaw. Someone with that kind of magical-creature affinity should obviously be a Hufflepuff."
He chuckled to himself. "Though… Luna's dreamy vibe does fit Ravenclaw perfectly."
"Anyway—she's a Hogwarts student. Doesn't matter if she's Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. She's still one of my kids now."
After that small sigh of mock regret, Viktor turned to Tom, who was still happily gnawing on his "crab leg."
"Come on, Tom. Time to head into the Forbidden Forest, check on the little ones… and test out these new abilities of mine."
Without another word, Viktor crouched slightly—then sprang straight up.
In mid-air his body blurred and twisted. Feathers sprouted, limbs shrank, and in an instant he had become a sleek swallow.
He gave two cheerful chirps down at Tom, then arrowed off toward the deep forest without looking back.
Tom, who had turned at the sound of his name ready to follow, froze mid-chew.
The half-eaten "crab leg" slipped from his jaws and plopped onto the grass with a soft plop.
He stared at the empty space where Viktor had been.
Then at the tiny black speck vanishing into the treeline.
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief—once, twice.
Finally convinced that yes, Viktor had actually just turned into a bird and flown away, Tom's jaw dropped even wider.
No time to mourn the fallen snack.
He frantically rummaged through his fur, pulling out hammers, saws, chisels, nails, and various cartoonish tools in a clattering storm.
After a few seconds of frantic banging and clanging (bang-bang-clang-ping-pong), a pair of floppy, bat-like wings appeared in his paws.
Tom strapped them on, gave them an experimental flap.
Then—full sprint, arms pumping—he launched himself into the air.
The first few seconds were… messy. He wobbled wildly, dipping and rising like a drunk bumblebee, clearly seconds from face-planting back to earth.
But Tom was nothing if not adaptable.
A few more experimental flaps, a shift in angle, and suddenly—whoosh—he shot forward like a rocket, streaking after the distant swallow in a perfect blue-grey blur.
...
Viktor-as-swallow skimmed low over the treetops along the Black Lake's edge, gliding deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
As he flew farther in, the air changed.
The familiar scent of damp earth and decaying leaves mixed with something cooler—clean water vapor and the faintest trace of silver light.
He dropped lower, slipping through the dense canopy woven from ancient oaks and beeches.
The view opened suddenly.
A hidden lake, ringed by towering pale ash trees that reached toward the sky.
The water wasn't the usual green or deep blue. It was an impossibly pale silver—almost transparent—like moonlight had been melted and poured into the basin.
The surface lay mirror-flat, reflecting the bare, interlaced branches overhead and the occasional drifting wisp of cloud. Sky and water blurred together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
No reeds or ordinary bushes grew along the shore. Instead, a carpet of soft, faintly glowing silver moss stretched from the water's edge all the way to the tree line—like velvet laid out by unseen hands.
The air was crisp, almost cold, but never biting. Breathing it felt like drawing cool stream water straight into your lungs.
Silence ruled here. No ordinary birdsong or insect hum. Only the faintest, crystalline tinkling—like wind chimes made of glass droplets—rising from somewhere deep in the lake's heart. Steady. Ethereal.
It was still afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy in thousands of golden threads, slanting down to strike the silver water.
The lake no longer looked like a dark mirror. Now it was a sheet of impossibly thin crystal, scattering the sunlight into a dancing field of broken gold.
The chill eased under the warm rays. Scents rose: sun-heated earth, damp bark, and something sweet and green—like wild mint or fresh sap.
The deep stillness remained, but now a lazy, living warmth drifted through it.
In the distance, one or two long, liquid bird calls drifted across the water.
Closer—perhaps—the softest whisper of wings brushing the surface.
The silver moss caught the light and shimmered. Every tiny filament seemed to drink the sun, glowing with a soft, silken sheen.
Viktor circled once, then glided lower—ready to land and see what new secrets this place held for a newly minted Druid.