As the bell rang for the end of class, the seventh-years looked like they'd just crawled out of a swamp—robes muddy, hair full of twigs and leaves, faces streaked with dirt.
But the exhaustion couldn't hide the manic grins plastered across every single one of them.
Just moments ago, under Professor Viktor's direction, they'd been split into two groups and thrown straight into simulated "real wilderness emergencies."
Even with his warnings beforehand, they still got absolutely wrecked.
Nifflers stealing everything shiny they owned.
Boggarts jumping out for jump-scares at point-blank range.
Banshee-like shrieks from invisible creatures that made their ears ring.
Kappas playing pranks almost as bad as Peeves.
Red Caps giggling maniacally while trying to lure them into dark corners.
And then the smaller annoyances: Billywigs buzzing around, Wrackspurts making them dizzy, glowing bugs that exploded in dazzling light, pixies tangling their hair, Veela-like illusions that nearly made a few of them walk straight into quicksand.
But the absolute worst?
Tom.
Teaching Assistant Tom, armed with an endless supply of bizarre gadgets and an unholy amount of glee, popping out of nowhere in every possible disguise—sometimes as a rock, sometimes as a suspiciously shiny coin, sometimes just as himself—terrorizing them with cartoon physics and perfect comedic timing.
By the end, they'd genuinely felt what Viktor meant by "real adventure."
But the best part?
When it was over, each of them received a small, sleek alchemical bracer.
A wrist-mounted wand launcher—flick your finger, and your wand shoots into your hand instantly.
Built-in anti-Summoning Charm tether so it can't be snatched away.
Plus a gesture-based summoning technique Viktor learned from the African school Uagadou.
And blank runic slots for engraving one-use emergency spells—Knotting Jinx, Trip Jinx, whatever you needed in a pinch.
The entire class was obsessed.
They spent the last ten minutes of class obsessively flicking their wands in and out, in and out, grinning like maniacs.
Watching them, Viktor couldn't help but smile.
He remembered begging Grandpa Newt to make him the exact same device years ago—and reacting exactly the same way.
(Assassin's Creed-style hidden blade mechanics, but for wands? Still one of the coolest things he owned.)
"Alright, everyone—that's it for today."
"We've covered the small, sneaky dangers that actually kill adventurers in the wild."
"For homework: write a paper. Discuss other common 'little' threats you might face out there. No word limit—just make sense."
"Also—by next class, each of you needs to find and master at least three spells specifically designed to counter the creatures we covered today."
"Class dismissed."
With a casual wave of his wand, Viktor opened the suitcase.
The classroom reappeared around them in a rush of air.
He gathered his things, gave Tom a pat (Tom was still eyeing the students with a very suspicious gleam), and strolled out without a backward glance.
The seventh-years blinked, still half-dazed from the sudden environment shift.
Did… Professor Viktor just sprint out of here like he had somewhere better to be?
The thought lasted about three seconds.
Then the entire group exploded into excited chatter and bolted for their common rooms.
They couldn't wait to brag.
To exaggerate (just a little) how bravely they'd fought off imaginary monsters.
But most importantly—to show off their shiny new wand launchers to every student who hadn't taken the NEWT-level elective.
They were already planning the dramatic reveals.
...
Back in his quarters, Viktor sank into the big藤椅 by the window.
Warm afternoon sunlight poured over him. He closed his eyes and let out a long, contented sigh.
Tom immediately appeared at his side—eyes sparkling, tail swishing, wearing the most transparently fake "good boy" expression imaginable.
Viktor cracked one eye open.
"Don't even start."
He flicked his wrist lazily.
Tom's hopeful grin froze.
Seven years of partnership meant Viktor could read the cat's every twitch.
Fine. You behaved in class today. Go terrorize Peeves or something.
Tom's face lit up like a firework.
He barely contained his victory yowl, crept to the door on silent paws, eased it open—
—and the second it clicked shut behind him—"YEOOOWWWL!!"
A blue-grey blur shot down the corridor like a cannonball.
Viktor chuckled, stretched, and finally sat up properly.
He reached for the suitcase at his feet, popped the latches, and leaned halfway inside—digging through invisible space like it was a bottomless closet.
A minute later he emerged cradling something delicate: a tiny bird's nest woven from broad green leaves and fine plant fibers.
He whistled softly.
A long tendril of Net Serpent Vine slithered down from where it had been camouflaged against the outer wall, mimicking ordinary ivy.
Viktor carefully hung the little nest from one of its branches.
Then he reached out and tapped the leaf-door gently with his fingertip.
A moment later, a fluffy golden head poked out—cautious, curious.
Two ruby-red eyes blinked at Viktor.
The instant they recognized him, the little creature let out a delighted trill and shot forward like a golden arrow, landing on Viktor's shoulder.
Three more followed—two slightly smaller, one noticeably tinier—four golden streaks zipping out of the nest and claiming their spots: shoulders, head, even one perched happily on his finger.
Viktor laughed quietly, scratching under the chin of the adult Gold Snidget pair who were already chirping complaints about how the babies never listened anymore.
He pulled out a small pouch of magic-insect jerky (a prize draw reward from the system—surprisingly tasty, even for humans).
The three rambunctious chicks immediately started cheeping and pecking at the treats on his head.
Viktor soothed the parents with extra scratches and promises of double rations later.
Then he fixed the babies with a stern (but fond) look.
Stay in the room. No flying out into the castle.
The chicks peeped innocently—then immediately started zooming around the office in golden streaks, chasing each other.
Viktor sighed.
Same as always.
Still smiling, he settled back into the chair, opened a notebook, and began sketching runes for the next upgrade to the wand launcher.
Outside, the sun continued to pour through the window.
Inside, three golden blurs darted happily around the room.
And somewhere down the corridor, Tom was probably already causing chaos with Peeves.
All in all—a pretty good day.