Bringing Fairytales to Hogwarts!

Bringing Fairytales to Hogwarts!

Hermione tilted her head, still puzzled. She didn't quite understand what Professor Viktor meant—why would other people be unhappy if he worked hard?

After thinking hard for a few seconds, she finally gave up and shook her head."I don't understand, Professor."

"That's all right—it doesn't really concern you," Viktor replied with a smile. "If you want to read those books, go ahead. Learning more never hurts."

Encouraged, Hermione turned to her parents. The Grangers nodded, and she cheerfully dashed off to choose more books—ending up with a stack of over a dozen.

In fact, she bought so many that the bookstore gifted her a small enchanted expansion pouch—one with weightless, stretchable storage—to help carry everything. It was a proper magical tote for a proper bookworm.

As she packed her books, the red-haired boy from earlier reappeared, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He carried a few third-year textbooks under his arm.

He was tall and lanky, with a freckled face and a permanent mischievous grin. Clearly not the kind of kid you'd describe as "reliable." Definitely third year, though—not as tall as the store clerk had been.

"Professor? Are you a new professor at Hogwarts?" he asked brightly.

"I am," Viktor nodded. "Divination."

"Ohh, then you're replacing Professor Trelawney?" The boy blinked in realization.

Apparently, news of Trelawney's recent accident had spread far and wide across the magical world.

Viktor nodded again—noncommittally.

"I'm Fred Weasley, Professor. I might take your class next term, but I haven't decided. My brother Percy thinks I should go for Arithmancy. What do you think's more useful?"

"Either is fine," Viktor replied calmly. "Arithmancy leans toward logical calculations. Divination's more about intuition and perception. Just pick what resonates with you."

As he spoke, another red-haired boy who looked exactly like Fred came bounding toward them from across the store, waving something wildly in his hand like he'd found a treasure.

Behind him, faint calls could be heard:

"George? George!"

Unaware that Fred hadn't noticed him, George smirked and raised his arm—clearly preparing to launch a prank candy.

"However…"

Viktor suddenly extended his hand—to the exact spot one foot beside him.

A moment later, George flung the candy. But his aim was too high. The piece bounced off the hanging chandelier overhead and came spiraling down in a new direction—

—straight into Viktor's outstretched palm.

With a flick of his fingers, he caught it perfectly.

The wrapper read: "Zonko's Joke Shop – Guaranteed Chaos."

Viktor raised it slightly toward Fred."…If you're thinking of using prank candy to skip my class, I suggest taking Arithmancy instead. I catch every attempt."

Across the room, George's eyes widened in amazement.

"Wicked!!" he shouted. "How'd you do that?!"

He ran over eagerly.

Viktor casually returned the candy.

"Divination instincts."

The twins' eyes lit up.

George had seen it clearly—before he even threw the candy, Professor Viktor had already moved. As if he knew exactly what would happen. Like he had eyes in the future.

Way cooler than Arithmancy.

Of course, Viktor hadn't done it to impress anyone.

The truth? That candy was about to hit him in the face. He'd merely responded to a tiny nudge from his intuition—the kind that said "move now or regret it."

Still, the twins didn't know that.

Before they could continue bombarding him with questions, their mother finally appeared—the same red-haired witch Viktor had noticed outside the shop earlier.

"GEORGE!" she bellowed, marching over and grabbing his ear. "Another prank? Apologize right now!"

"No—Mum! I just missed my aim, I wasn't trying to—ow—wait—let me explain—!"

"Your little brother's still waiting on you! How dare you be wasting time out here?"

Mrs. Weasley shot Viktor an apologetic look while dragging both boys away, mumbling about needing to finish shopping and how the twins had snuck off.

As they were pulled off, Fred twisted around, waving as he shouted:

"VI–K–TOR–PROFESSOR! WE'LL SIGN UP FOR YOUR CLASS!!"

Viktor stared blankly after them.

…Suddenly, he wasn't so excited about teaching anymore.

Those two were definitely going to be trouble.

Hermione returned with her newly packed bag—a visibly heavy satchel that didn't seem to bother her one bit. Her face glowed with the sort of satisfaction that sent shivers down lazy students' spines.

"Let's go," Viktor said, and they started walking.

But after a few steps, Mrs. Granger suddenly spoke with concern.

"Hermione, do you still have enough money to buy an owl? I checked the prices… and with food included, they're not exactly cheap."

"Oh no!" Hermione froze, her face dropping. "I… I think I might've gone overboard with the books…"

Viktor did a quick mental tally of what she'd bought.

Magical books weren't cheap—similar in price to Muggle textbooks, sometimes even pricier. Especially the thick encyclopedic ones Hermione had chosen.

She probably had overspent.

"Hogwarts has a public owlery," Viktor said after a pause. "And the acceptance letter never said pets were mandatory. You'll be fine without one."

Hermione pulled out the letter and scanned it again—then beamed.

"You're right!"

And just like that, she happily gave up the idea of buying an owl.

Still, they stopped by Eeylops Owl Emporium for a quick look—because Viktor himself needed one.

Since he didn't live on school grounds full-time, a personal owl would be useful for correspondence.

He eventually bought a barn owl—a fluffy little creature despite its eerie name.

Hermione quietly thought it suited Viktor—"Barn Owl" sounded ominous, just like him. But the bird itself was a puffball of feathers, with nothing scary about it—aside from its rather weird hoots.

Carrying the cage in one hand, Viktor headed for their final stop: Ollivanders.

As they entered, Hermione couldn't help but poke a finger through the cage bars to gently touch the owl's soft feathers.

Ding-ding.

The shop bell jingled.

Ollivander was just finishing up with another young witch. The central table was covered in open wand boxes—apparently from a long testing session. When he heard the bell, he glanced up from behind the counter.

"Ah! Another young witch starting at Hogwarts, is it?" Mr. Ollivander adjusted his glasses and smiled. "Miss, I assume you're here for your first wand?"

"I need one too," Viktor said from behind her.

Ollivander looked momentarily surprised. It was rare for an adult wizard to come in needing their first wand.

But the surprise faded quickly. He nodded politely.

"I don't believe we've met, sir. Are you new to England?"

"Yes. I'll be teaching at Hogwarts starting this term."

"Ah, that explains it." Ollivander's gaze sharpened slightly. "You have… quite the presence. I believe I might have just the thing for you."

He turned and began rummaging through his shelves.

Eventually, he returned holding a dark, polished wand case.

"Thirteen inches. Yew wood with a dragon heartstring core. Unyielding flexibility. I also added powdered unicorn horn during crafting—just a dusting. It gives off a faint shimmer in pitch-black environments."

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