Inside the Leaky Cauldron, Victor paused for a mont.
Several wizards crowded near the bar, robes slightly askew, voices louder than necessary. Butterbeer and sothing stronger filled the air. One elderly wizard was arguing passionately with his own reflection in a spoon.
Victor watched them briefly.
Then he sighed.
"Charming," he muttered.
He stepped into a quieter corner, out of direct sight, and focused.
The squeeze of Apparition pulled at him again—tight, unpleasant—
—and the London noise vanished.
He reappeared just beyond the orchard near the Lovegood house, steadying himself as his shoes pressed into the soft grass.
He checked his watch.
3:30 Pm
"Perfect. Five hours," Victor murmured.
He slipped his fingers beneath his shirt and drew out the Ti-Turner. The small hourglass glinted faintly in the afternoon light.
Without hesitation, he rotated it five tis.
The world folded in on itself.
Once.
Twice.
Three tis.
Four.
Five.
The orchard blurred, rewound, light shifting backward through the sky. The sensation was smoother than Apparition.
When the spinning stopped, it was morning again.
Victor stood behind the trees just as his past self appeared at the edge of the orchard, having just slipped away monts earlier.
He watched calmly as the earlier version of himself glanced at his watch and Disapparated.
Victor waited a few seconds to preserve continuity, then stepped forward and walked toward the house as if he had never left.
Loop closed.
No paradox.
No contradiction.
"The Ministry would faint if they tracked this properly," he muttered under his breath.
Luna appeared at the edge of the orchard before Victor could take more than a step.
"There you are," she said, as though he had only wandered behind a tree. "I thought you might have been looking for Wrackspurts without ."
"I wouldn't dare," Victor replied evenly, allowing her to pull him back toward the apple trees.
She accepted that without question and resud scanning the air with solemn concentration.
Far away in London, deep within the Ministry of Magic, the Trace quill recorded its entries in the Improper Use of Magic Office.
A thin line of ink ford:
Underage wizard: Victor Malfoy.
Magic detected.
Location: Ottery St. Catchpole region.
A second later, another line appeared.
Underage wizard: Victor Malfoy.
Magic detected.
Location: London, vicinity of King's Cross.
The tistamps were uncomfortably close.
The clerk monitoring the parchnt frowned slightly.
"That's odd," he muttered. "The signature overlaps."
His superior leaned over, scanned the parchnt, and shrugged.
"Pure-blood household," she said dismissively. "Apparition near wizarding properties can register inconsistently. The Trace doesn't track who cast the spell, only that magic occurred near a minor."
"But the locations—"
"Probably layered detection. If we prosecuted every irregular reading, we'd drown in paperwork. File it."
The quill scratched a final note and fell still.
The Trace was simple magic. It recorded underage signatures and nearby spell residue. It did not understand cause. It did not understand sequence. It certainly did not understand ti manipulation.
On parchnt, Victor Malfoy's magical signature appeared twice within the sa window of ti — once in the countryside near the Lovegood ho, once in London.
The anomaly was noted.
Then it was minimized.
The supervising official recognized the surna. Malfoy. Old family. Influence. Wealth. Not the sort of na one pursued over technical irregularities unless absolutely necessary.
***
At lunch, Victor examined the plate placed before him with careful neutrality.
The food did not look spoiled or unrecognizable, but it had an unusual combination of colors and textures that suggested experintation rather than tradition.
He studied it briefly, assessing whether it might be dangerous or rely unconventional.
Luna watched him with open curiosity, clearly interested in his reaction.
Victor lifted his fork and took a asured bite, chewing slowly as he evaluated the taste. The flavor was mild and slightly mismatched, neither particularly pleasant nor offensive. It lacked refinent, but it was undeniably edible.
He swallowed without letting his expression shift.
"It is… acceptable," he said evenly.
Luna seed pleased with that verdict, which likely ant she had helped prepare it.
That night, Luna made him sit by the tall, curved window of the Lovegood house and handed him a copy of The Quibbler.
"Daddy says this issue is especially important," she said dreamily. "It explains how Fudge is using goblins to control rainfall."
Victor lowered his eyes to the page.
The moving photographs were as chaotic as the headlines. Bold ink scread about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Rotfang conspiracies, and Ministry plots hidden inside cauldron thickness regulations. So articles contradicted each other within the sa column.
Objectively, most of it bordered on absurd.
He could almost hear Hermione Granger dismissing it as complete rubbish, citing facts, footnotes.
But he did not say that.
Across from him, Luna Lovegood watched with quiet expectation, her eyes bright and unbothered by doubt. To her, every printed word carried possibility.
Victor turned the page carefully instead of scoffing.
"Interesting," he said at last.
He said it because he didn't want to say anything else that might disappoint Luna.
*****
A/N : 🔥 On Patreon, the story has already been updated up to Chapter 71🔥
⚡ A 15-chapter early access is available for those who want to read ahead ⚡
👉 patreon/JakeA30
User Comments
0 comments from readers