That sure is a specific kind of torn.

The following weeks pass by very quickly as classes get more interesting and Quidditch practice keeps them busy. Dayo's Slytherin's new Beater (and they very carefully do not brag at all—wouldn't do to let their rivals know of their strengths too early, see), while Draco's the replacement Seeker in case Terence Higgs is indisposed (a fact which he mysteriously omits when he tells others about it). Ron gets over not having been picked and goes to every practice to watch Victor—who is, predictably, incredible at it.

On Halloween morning they wake to the smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors, and in their first class Flitwick announces they will finally be learning the Levitation Charm. They're supposed to practice in pairs, and Neville tries to catch Victor's eye.

He can partner with Neville, then.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaks Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too—never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

That sounds very uncomfortable for Wizard Baruffio.

They start practising the spell.

It's hard.

At one point, Seamus, who's partnering with Ron, sets fire to his feather.

Oh dear.

They manage to put out the fire with the aid of Ron's hat.

Neville continually fails to make his feather levitate.

And eventually class is over.

Victor tries to help Neville as much as he can, but only barely manages to levitate his own feather before the end of class.

That evening, the Halloween Feast greets them in the Great Hall. A thousand live bats flutter from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swoop over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appears suddenly on the golden plates, as it did at the start-of-term banquet.

Victor is slightly worried for the bats. Bats and candles don't seem like the best combination.

They seem to manage.

Dayo walks over to the Gryffindor table—towards Victor, specifically. "Hi." Pause. "My condolences."

"What's she—" Pause. "Oh."

"—um. Should I not have mentioned it—?"

"I don't - think about it usually." Pause. "Thank you."

"Yeah, I just—you know." She shrugs uncomfortably.

Nod.

Okay enough awkwardness, she waves 'bye and goes back to the Slytherin table.

Victor is thoughtful.

And right about then Quirrell runs into the Great Hall, red in the face, and people stop talking to pay attention to him.

"Troll!" he cries, "In the dungeons!" He reaches the Head Table panting and finishes with, "Thought you ought to know," before passing out.

...

There's an uproar. People standing, shouting, talking over each other—it takes several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wands to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbles, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"