When Viktor left the Great Hall after his interview, no one gave him a warm farewell—just a curt, dry "We'll consider it" from Professor McGonagall.
Still, that was better than most.Anyone else might've sent him straight to the Ministry of Magic after hearing what he said.
The magical world was full of strange and dangerous curses, so most wizards were hyper-alert to anything resembling one. Even unfamiliar ones would get reported immediately to the Department of Magical Curses and Counter-Curses—better safe than sorry.
It was only because Dumbledore, the most respected authority in curse theory, had been present that Hogwarts let him go unchallenged.
Not that Viktor feared an investigation.
Because what he had said… wasn't a curse at all.
As he stepped out of the castle and felt the chill breeze brush his face, Viktor reached into his cloak and drew out a strange little mirror.
The mirror was framed in an ancient-looking silver alloy, carved with archaic floral designs. The glass was dull and cloudy. Oddly, even when Viktor raised it, it reflected nothing—not even his own face.
"Mirror, mirror, tell me now…"
"…Where is Granny Yaga's house?"
His voice was low and hollow, as if carried from some distant realm.
Viktor often called Baba Yaga "Granny Yaga." It rolled off the tongue more easily.
After a moment, a warped, whispering voice emerged from the mirror's depths:
"…Beyond the city that never sees light, past the fog that never lifts, a wooden house wanders endlessly. The swan bows its neck at the sight. Even the stag dares not cry aloud."
"It hasn't changed," Viktor murmured.
Tucking the mirror away, he stepped into the rainy mist beyond Hogwarts, walking farther and farther—until his silhouette blurred, faded, and vanished entirely from sight.
Thump… thump…
When Viktor next became visible, he was in a different place altogether.
A shadowy forest stretched endlessly around him. The trees were twisted and tall, their leafless black limbs clawing at the sky. Thick mist rolled through the underbrush, painting everything in dull gray. He couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.
That sound—thump… thump…—kept echoing through the fog.Heavy. Slow. Ominous. Like something massive pacing through the forest, unseen.
But Viktor wasn't bothered. He'd heard it before.
He slid the mirror back into his pocket and moved deeper into the forest, always turning to the right—walking in deliberate spirals.
Until, eventually, he reached it.
A giant chicken leg.
Each talon was as wide as a man's waist, and the scaly, orange-yellow skin was caked in mud. Muscles flexed beneath the skin, twitching faintly. The enormous leg looked—moved—like it belonged to a living beast.
Looking up, the rest of the chicken-legged structure vanished into the fog. Only a dark silhouette loomed above. The thunderous thumping had been this very leg… pacing.
But when Viktor approached, the walking stopped.
A moment later, a faint rustling came from above. Then a thin rope ladder dropped down in front of him.
Without flinching, Viktor grabbed it and began to climb.
He didn't know how long he climbed. Only that after passing what felt like the height of treetops, a warm golden glow appeared above.
A small door faced downward, built into the bottom of the massive hut. The rope ladder had come from there.
At last, Viktor reached the end of the ladder and pulled himself through the door into a cozy wooden cabin.
A crackling fireplace was set into one wall. An old cloth sofa rested on the other.
On the sofa sat a hunched, bundled figure.
"…You're back?" came the raspy voice of an old woman.
"I'm back," Viktor replied, standing beside the door. With a wave of his hand, the rope ladder below coiled back up on its own.
"I visited the magic school nearby. They're hiring. A witch was praying at her window, asking for true prophecy. So, I granted her wish."
"In a few days, I should be able to take her place and start teaching."
"Whatever works," the old woman murmured. "As long as you can be around children… there'll be plenty of wishes to trade. And human money, of course, helps buy what we need."
"Exactly," Viktor said. "And who knows—maybe one or two children might even want to learn something from you."
"Me? I don't need that anymore," the old woman muttered.
As they spoke, Viktor closed the hatch behind him and walked over to the fireplace.
Only then did he get a good look at the woman's face.
She was grotesque—grotesque in a fairytale kind of way.
Granny Yaga's face was twisted with age. Large, fleshy lumps distorted her features, squeezing one eye nearly shut and pulling her wrinkled nose off-center. Her teeth, what few remained, wobbled visibly when she spoke.
She wore a tattered robe of dusty pink, mended in places with haphazard patches.
She cackled hoarsely: "See? Just a few little lumps left. Let me raise two or three more children, and they'll vanish completely. I'll be normal again."
"Just a little more to go. No need to rush. It'll come when it's time. But you… you still have work to do."
"More or less," Viktor said indifferently, warming his hands by the fire.
Strangely, the flames were blue—not hot, but pleasantly cool. They chased away the muggy heat of summer instead of warming the room.
Clearly, neither Viktor nor Baba Yaga were ordinary witches or wizards. In fact, they were barely human at all.
If Viktor had to explain it, they came from a different kind of world—a fairy tale realm. Beings like them gained power by fulfilling the "narrative logic" of their own stories.
Only by playing their roles correctly could they gain strength—and seem more "normal."
Granny Yaga's role required her to raise children. Each child she helped diminished her deformities.Viktor, on the other hand, needed bargains—the classic kind of storybook deals.
Like the one where the Little Mermaid gave her voice to Ursula in exchange for legs—and turned to sea foam if she failed to win the prince's heart.
That was Viktor's fuel, too.
Each bargain made him stronger. More human. More powerful.
Hogwarts was the perfect place to collect those deals. Something about the castle buzzed with fate, more than any place he'd been. Just being near it increased his chances of receiving "revelations"—visions of his next step in this world.
Of course, he still needed to make daily trades to keep himself nourished.
That, incidentally, was why the Magical Accident Control Division of the Church's Enclave used to lose sleep over Viktor's existence—because in any area he stayed in, he single-handedly caused 70% of magical incidents.
Eventually, though, Viktor had a change of heart.
He decided to clean up his act and contribute positively to fairy tale society.
So, he moved.
To Hogwarts.
But just as he was settling in by the cold fire, Granny Yaga suddenly spoke:
"Oh… I forgot to mention something. I actually picked up a child earlier."