In that instant, George felt a chill shoot straight from the top of his head down to his tailbone. Every hair on his body stood on end, and before he could process anything, he let out a scream.
"AAAAHHHH! A GHOST!!!"
As he screamed, he instinctively leaped up, desperately trying to shake off the icy hand that had just gripped his shoulder.
At the same time, he spun around—his mind racing with countless terrifying possibilities.
Perhaps he'd turn to see a severed, bloody hand gripping his shoulder. Maybe it would be a ghost dripping with blood, just like the Bloody Baron. Or worse—it could be a vampire that had sneaked in from the Forbidden Forest...
But it was none of those things.
It was just Professor Victor.
The moment George recognized the familiar face, his piercing scream faltered and then cut off completely. He stared in stunned silence, finally registering who it was.
"...Professor Victor? It's you?"
"Who else?"
Victor raised an eyebrow as he withdrew the hand that had been resting on George's shoulder.
George, just moments ago, had reacted like a startled chipmunk, jumping at the slightest touch like a twig brushing against its back. And not just jumping—screaming at the top of his lungs.
In the end, it was nothing but his own imagination scaring him.
Besides, everyone knew Hogwarts had ghosts. Why was George screaming like this?
"I didn't know you were afraid of ghosts," Victor said in a slow, deliberate tone. "There are plenty around the school. You should take a good look at them more often—maybe it'll help toughen you up."
"...This isn't about ghosts, Professor! We just saw a terrifying shadow—right in front of us!"
Only now did George fully regain his senses. His heart was still pounding violently in his chest, and his breaths came in short, rapid gasps.
That shadow—it had appeared for just a moment, but it was genuinely terrifying. Someone with a weaker heart might've had a heart attack on the spot! And they were supposed to be the brave ones.
"You must've been mistaken," Victor said with absolute certainty.
His confidence made George and Fred pause. They exchanged glances, each reading the same thought in the other's eyes—they had seen it.
"No, we weren't," George insisted, though now his voice carried a hint of self-doubt. "We definitely saw a shadow flicker past the classroom! It was only there for a second or two, but still..."
Victor spoke again, this time with an almost dismissive calm. "It could have been a reflection. Or one of Peeves' pranks. This school has so many glass surfaces—it's normal for things to cast reflections."
His voice was so composed that George actually started to believe him. Even though he'd been convinced a moment ago, memory had a funny way of fading quickly. And besides, arguing with a professor about this wasn't going to get them anywhere.
George shot Fred a look. Fred immediately understood and, without another word, they both shut their mouths.
Their eyes briefly scanned the dim, candleless classroom, lingering on the gray stone floor and the black desks. But they said nothing more.
Then, after a few moments of silence, Victor spoke again.
"Hand it over."
He held out his hand in front of Fred.
"What?"
Fred put on a look of exaggerated shock—an expression that seemed even more ridiculous given his slightly protruding beer belly.
"...Your cauldron," Victor said plainly. "I heard everything just now. There's no need to play dumb. Hand over the cauldron and the potion inside."
"Furthermore, for violating school rules by brewing a potentially hazardous potion, and attempting to damage school property, I'm deducting five points from Gryffindor. And you'll both serve detention—though that's already a lenient punishment, considering your plan didn't succeed."
He gazed coolly at the two red-headed Weasley twins.
Normally, he didn't care much for disciplining students.
But really, who wanted to take the risk of walking into a bathroom without toilet seats or finding a dung bomb surprise in the hallway?
This was like a witch discovering two thieves sneaking into her herb garden. Or a dragon finding a band of treasure hunters in its lair. Not particularly dangerous, but utterly insulting. It had to be dealt with.
If anyone was to blame, it was the Weasley twins for being a menace to society!
Under Victor's sharp gaze, Fred reluctantly pulled the cauldron from beneath his robe—inside, it still contained a bubbling green potion.
"Here you go, Professor."
Fred's face returned to its usual mischievous grin in mere seconds, even with a hint of flattery.
"It's harmless now. Honestly, even if we finished brewing it, it wouldn't have been dangerous. All it does is soften the edge of a toilet seat for a few seconds—just long enough for us to remove it intact. One quick Reparo would've fixed everything!"
"...So does that mean we can get a reduction in our detention time?"
"No."
Victor responded with cold, unyielding finality.
"In fact, because you were carrying a half-finished potion on you, your detention is being extended by an hour—making it a total of two hours. Conveniently, I'll be short on helpers during Christmas. If I recall correctly, you both signed up to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. You can report to my office on the morning of Christmas Eve."
With that, Victor waved his hand, dismissing any further attempts at negotiation. He watched as the twins disposed of the potion before turning on his heel and briskly walking out of the classroom, his figure disappearing into the darkened corridor.
Fred and George, now left holding an empty cauldron, stared forlornly at Victor's retreating back.
"I bet he only caught us because he needed extra hands," Fred muttered. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have had a good excuse to exploit student labor."
"You're absolutely right," George replied, equally bitter.
But as he watched Victor walk away, something suddenly occurred to him.
"Wait a minute, Fred... The professor heard our conversation, which means he was here the whole time... So why did he say he didn't see the shadow?"