Evening was falling over Hogwarts, casting the halls in a soft amber glow as students filed out of classes. The library had emptied enough that only a few students remained scattered among the shelves, but that wasn’t where Viktor planned to stay for long.

With measured steps, his cane tapped softly on the stone floor as he made his way to the Dark Arts professor’s office. He carried a pair of rolled-up scrolls in his hand and a carefully planned excuse in his head.

“I just need him to explain the last topic to me in more depth.”

Lie. Sure, he had understood the dark binding spell perfectly—he had turned in an impeccable essay on it—but that didn't matter. What he really wanted was to be in that quiet space, where the walls seemed to absorb any sound, listening to that deep voice that resonated all too well in the silence.

Viktor knocked softly on the door with his knuckles.