A tall man in his forties entered the establishment. He was wearing a thick, dark robe, causing nearly all the regular cafe patrons to instantly stare at him as if he were a lunatic. The newcomer scanned the room sullenly and, spotting Victor, headed straight for his table with confident strides.
— Are you Victor? — he asked in a muffled voice, stopping across from him.
Victor measured him up with a unhurried, calculating gaze from head to toe. A heavy, oppressive aura emanated from this man—a dangerous energy remarkably similar to the one surrounding Alastor Moody. It was clear at a glance that this wizard had survived dozens of brutal battles. Assessing his power, Victor realized his strength was only slightly inferior to McGonagall's.
— Sit down, don't scare the people, — Victor motioned casually with his fork toward the empty chair opposite him. — Want a bite to eat? You know, they make a fantastic roast beef here.
Antoine frowned even more deeply. However, noticing the Muggles at neighboring tables starting to whisper and glance warily at his gloomy figure, he sank heavily into the chair anyway.
— Say, aren't you hot? — Victor looked over his thick robe with genuine curiosity. — It's June out there, twenty-five degrees heat, and you're walking around in a woolen cloak.
The man merely watched in silence as the youth continued to chew with unbothered appetite. Looking at his grim silence, Victor smiled faintly and shook his head:
— Sure you don't want anything? Don't be shy, I'm not a strict boss. If you want, you can even change into something less conspicuous.
The man raised an eyebrow in surprise and finally spoke.
— Boss? Kid, are you confused? — his voice carried an icy, sobering tone. — Even if you are Madame Flamel's adopted grandson, that doesn't mean I'm ready to blindly obey you. I was ordered to take ten of our best people and place myself entirely at your disposal. But as soon as this job is done—we leave. So do me a favor and don't waste our time.
Victor didn't flinch. He neatly wiped his lips with a napkin, set it on the edge of the table, and smiled genuinely:
— So serious... And incredibly suffocating at the same time. You somewhat remind me of my Head of House. Well, fair enough, you're right, we really are pressed for time. Let's go, I still have to pick up my sister.
When Victor stood up from the table and he and the mercenary were heading toward the exit, their path was suddenly blocked by a middle-aged, solidly built Muggle with noble gray hair at his temples.
— Boy, do you know this man? — the old man asked sternly, casting a heavy, suspicious glare at Antoine. — If not—don't be afraid, step behind me. He won't touch you.
Victor froze in place, shifting his gaze from the vigilant bystander to Antoine. And in that moment, it finally hit him just how ambiguous this whole scene looked from the outside: a grim, strangely dressed guy in a woolen cloak had walked into a cafe, quietly conferred with a lone teenager, and was now leading him off to an unknown destination.
— Ha-ha-ha-ha! — Victor couldn't hold back and burst out laughing loudly, echoing through the whole cafe. — I can't! Ha-ha-ha! You... they just took you for a pedophile!
Antoine shot the protector a lethal, blood-chilling look, but the Muggle proved to be no coward. He had come to the establishment himself with his young grandson, and the mere thought that his own child could have been in this boy's shoes made him stand his ground to the end—even if the strange guy in the robe looked far more dangerous and younger than him.
Barely suppressing another fit of laughter, Victor looked at his protector with a warm, grateful smile:
— Ahem, excuse me, sir. No, no, everything is completely fine, this is my... um, uncle. But thank you so very much for your vigilance and concern!
Still choking on laughter, Victor stepped out of the cafe onto the sun-drenched sidewalk and stretched with satisfaction. Grunting in irritation, Antoine followed him heavily out onto the street.
— So how should I address you, "uncle"? — Victor asked with a sly smirk, winking at the mercenary.
— Antoine Valmont. Call me just Antoine, — the wizard cut him off dryly.
— Splendid, Antoine. And where are your people? We have quite a long journey ahead. By the way, do you have brooms with you, or should I go buy a couple?
Valmont gave a short, reserved nod:
— No need, we have everything with us. Where exactly are we heading?
— To Hogwarts, — Victor answered with an absolutely serious face that betrayed not a single emotion, looking the captain straight in the eye. — I need your people to infiltrate the castle and fetch Dumbledore's beard for me. Preferably torn out by the root.
Valmont froze dead in his tracks. The scars on his stern face turned ghostly pale, and his eyes widened in genuine, unhidden shock.
— What?.. — he barely choked out, coughing hoarsely. — The beard... of Albus Dumbledore?!
"Look at how scared he got! He even turned pale, poor guy!" Victor's hallucination burst out laughing delightedly, appearing beside him.
— Yes, exactly. I desperately need it for a highly secret ritual, — Victor nodded with utter seriousness.
Antoine was struck mute. He stood in the middle of a Muggle street, mouth agape, simply not knowing how to respond. The experienced combat wizard's brain was frantically trying to construct a plan to breach Hogwarts for the sake of stealing the beard of the greatest wizard of modern times.
— Alright, alright, don't go pale on me! — Victor finally took pity on him and patted the stern man patronizingly on the shoulder. — I was joking. What the hell would I need his beard for? Just take me to the others already.
Antoine slowly closed his mouth and frowned heavily, looking down at the boy. He was a seasoned, battle-hardened wizard accustomed to treating any order with the utmost seriousness and responsibility. He didn't like this playful side of Victor at all!
Mr. Granger, unloading suitcases from the trunk, looked meaningfully at his wife and nodded toward their daughter. Mrs. Granger answered his glance understandingly and gently wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders.
— Hermione, what happened? You've been quiet ever since the station. Is it because of parting with your friends? Don't worry, summer will fly by very quickly.
Hermione looked at her parents and forced herself to nod. She didn't want to tell them that the Hogwarts Express had been attacked, or that she herself was terrified for Victor and Adele, who had vanished without a trace. The last thing Hermione wanted was for her mom and dad to panic and become afraid to send her to school.
— Let's hurry up, our guest is probably getting quite bored by now, — Mr. Granger hurried them along, picking up the bags.
Mrs. Granger remembered that Adele was waiting for them inside, and hurried into the house with her daughter, leaving her husband to deal with the remaining luggage by himself. Hermione was so deeply immersed in her anxious thoughts that she didn't even ask who this guest was, simply walking aimlessly after her mother.
— Adele, we're back! I hope you weren't too bored? — Mrs. Granger asked with a warm smile, stepping into the living room.
Adele was sitting on the sofa, calmly reading a book. Looking at this neat, pristine girl, Hermione's mother felt a wild urge to hug her—Victor's sister looked so much like a porcelain collector's doll.
— No, Mrs. Granger, I didn't even notice the time pass, — Adele replied politely, closing her book.
Hermione's eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly a couple of times.
— Adele! — she exclaimed in shock and, running over, hugged the girl tightly. — Are... are you okay?
— Hermione, what's got into you? Didn't you two just see each other at school a couple of hours ago? — Mrs. Granger asked, surprised by her daughter's intense behavior.
— Uh... No, they just left the castle a few days early, — Hermione oriented herself instantly and lied.
— Oh, well alright then. You two catch up, and I'll go make us lunch.
As soon as her mother disappeared into the kitchen, Hermione immediately grabbed Adele by the hand and dragged her along.
— Come with me.
Slamming the door to her room, she began firing questions at her without wasting a second:
— Where's Victor? Is he alright? Is he hurt?
Adele unhurriedly scanned Hermione's room, which was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves and cluttered with stacks of books, and nodded calmly:
— Yes, he's fine. He's the one who brought me here.
Hermione finally relaxed a little, a heavy weight lifting off her soul.
— Where did you guys even vanish to? We tried asking the Aurors left at the station, but they wouldn't say a word. Daphne even tried leveraging her family's prestige and authority on them, but they couldn't care less.
Adele looked at the agitated Hermione and sighed tiredly to herself. Why on earth did Victor leave her right here? Now she had to listen to these endless questions and talk to her.
But right in the middle of that thought, something clicked in Adele's mind. Her eyes gleamed, and a smile appeared on her lips.
— Would you like... me to tell you in detail everything that happened to us after the werewolves attacked the train? — she offered coaxingly.
Hermione found this sudden shift in Adele's mood suspicious, and her smile didn't bode well either, but curiosity outweighed everything else. She nodded resolutely.
Adele's eyes sparkled with anticipation, and she prepared to describe everything in vivid detail. "Hm, let's see if you can keep desperately clinging to my brother once you learn what he's really like..." the girl thought malevolently. She hoped that upon hearing the bloody details of how ruthlessly Victor had slaughtered Greyback's entire pack, the shelter-reared, proper Hermione would be scared to death and never come near her brother again.