The Prophecy

CHAPTER TWELVE

It didn't take them long to find the witch; she was hiding in an abandoned frame in the attic. Ron, Harry, Ginny, and the twins had been trying with little success to clean the other side of the room, and had not been paying close attention to the old portraits. Thus, they were startled by the appearance of their visitors.

"Professor Dumbledore, is something wrong?" Ginny asked as she looked up in surprise.

"No, no. Continue what you are doing, we're just looking for an old painting," he replied, glancing around the attic.

"There she is!" Viktor exclaimed, running up to the old portrait. He pulled out his wand and muttered something under his breath; a curse, perhaps, because the witch in the painting had a horrible look on her face, and didn't seem to be able to move.

"Vot are you doing here, Ivana?" Viktor asked, quite pleased with himself that he had finally put a name to the face that he had recognized.

Almost in unison, all of them asked, "Who is Ivana?"

Viktor sighed loudly and, folding his arms across his chest, said, "Ivana is Karkaroff's grandmother."

His announcement was met with stunned silence.

"But why would she be in this house?" Hermione finally asked. "And how? I thought that there were spells and enchantments in place to prevent things like this from happening!"

They were all shocked, to say the least. They were also plagued by the same burning questions: What did this witch's appearance mean for the Order? Could she be relaying information to the other side?

"I must ask you all to leave, except for you, Viktor. I need to speak to this witch." Dumbledore was speaking slowly, and Viktor though that even he did not know where he was going to go with this.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron looked at Hermione questioningly, desperate to know what was going in, but not wanting to ask in front of Dumbledore. With a loud "POP," the twins disapparated. The rest slowly trudged out of the attic, unwillingly respecting their headmaster's wishes. Before she disappeared down the stairs, Hermione looked back at Viktor and thought, Be careful. Viktor smiled faintly and nodded in response. He then turned back to the hideous portrait of the witch, his features rearranging themselves into a scowl. He watched from the side as Dumbledore dusted off an old trunk nearby and sat in front of the painting and its occupant.

"Now madam, I will be asking you few questions. I advise you that it is in your best interests to speak the truth," Dumbledore said pleasantly, though there was a hard edge to his voice. The witch, whose features were no less pleasant normally than they were twisted into a mocking grimace, was silent. While she did not dare ridicule a wizard of such power, she was not inclined to help him, either.

Viktor had such admiration for Dumbledore, though he was slightly exasperated by his insistence on being polite to everyone. Had he had his way, he would already be threatening to remove Ivana's thick, bushy eyebrows hair by hair. Instead, he rocked back on his heels, curious to see how Dumbledore would handle the situation.

"Now...Ivana, is it? What is your business in this house?" Dumbledore asked, and looked at her with those piercing gray eyes of his.

The witch in the portrait winced uncomfortably, but did not look away. She took a deep breath and spoke with a thick, ugly accent. It was similar to Viktor's, but coarser, and extremely unpleasant.

"I am simply visiting my dear old friend, and I do not see any reason vhy I should be interrogated for doing so," she replied haughtily.

"Madam, forgive me, but I have no such intentions," Dumbledore spoke, stroking his long gray beard and looking at her intently. "I only wish to know how Igor Karkaroff's grandmother is a friend of...who, exactly?" He asked.

"None other than the owner of this house, of course. Velburga Black," she said proudly.

"Mrs. Black. Of course," Dumbledore repeated, now pondering what this presumed friendship could mean to their situation.

Viktor, unable to stand in one place for any longer, had begun to impatiently pace the room. Hearing that voice again, that hated voice that had always reminded him of a gurgling toilet, was bringing back memories that he did not wish to relive. He wanted to shout at her, to interject and ask questions. Anything to drown out that horrible sound.

Her appearance had filled him with a sense of dread. He knew better than anyone that anybody related to Karkaroff was not someone that could be trusted. But still, he waited for Dumbledore to continue. He knew that he was in no state to cross-examine her, and he had to trust that the older wizard would ask the right questions.

The witch in the portrait, alerted to Viktor's presence by his furious movements, took the opportunity to spew her venom at him.

"And vhy is it that I see my Igor's favourite pupil here amongst these filthy traitors?"

Viktor shot her a look of pure hatred, but remained silent. That title had already brought him more than his fair share of misery; it had had its benefits, of course, mostly in getting away with things that his peers could not. But it had come with a price. Igor had used and humiliated him, made him into his puppet. Seeing his grandmother's face, so much like Karkaroff's own, was an extremely unpleasant reminder of events not long past.

"Mrs. Karkaroff, I only have few more questions and then you can continue your visit with Mrs. Black. First off, how long have you been in this house?" Dumbledore asked.

"I arrived this morning," she replied. Viktor let out a breath that he hadn't been aware that he was holding. If she was telling the truth, then she had not heard very much of their discussions at all. Dumbledore didn't know if Mrs. Karkaroff was aware of the silencing spell that had been placed on Mrs. Black's portrait. It meant that she was not able to tell anyone of anything that was happening in the house, and she was not able to leave, either. Dumbledore, now more at ease, spoke again.

"What is the reason for your visit, and how long are you staying?"

"I haff some things to discuss with Velburga, and that is none off your business!" Mrs. Karkaroff snapped, returning to her unpleasant tone.

Viktor wondered again if there was any way this could have something to do with Karkaroff. It couldn't be a simple coincidence that his grandmother was a friend of Mrs. Black, and that she was here so soon after the Dark Lord's return and Karkaroff's disappearance. He had been informed about the ties of the Black family to Voldermort and the Death Eaters, so his suspicions were not unfounded.

Dumbledore asked the question once again, rather too politely, in Viktor's opinion.

"Madam, it is my business when it comes to the safety of my friends in this house. Knowing the connections that Mrs. Black once had to certain dark wizards..." He raised his eyebrow knowingly. She had the good grace to look disconcerted.

"I do not wish to resort to magic to get the information I need, Mrs. Karkaroff, so please state your business and you can be on your way," he finished, almost all traces of politeness gone.

Mrs. Karkaroff knew exactly who Albus Dumbledore was; most of the wizarding world knew him, or knew of him. She did not need to be reminded of what kind of powers he held. She gave in.

"Alright, I vill tell you votever you need to know if you keep your vord and let me leave this horrible dusty attic."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"My grandson has asked me to do him a favor." The witch shifted uncomfortably in the portrait, but continued quickly, "He has asked me if I can arrange a secluded place for him to stay for a while. I came to ask my dear old friend if she could accommodate him," she finished.

"Ah, so Igor is looking for a change of scenery?" Dumbledore replied, suppressing a smile. He knew that Karkaroff was in hiding. But to look for shelter in a house that was once occupied by wizards and witches in Voldemort's employ was still more than a little suspicious.

"After all that has happened lately, I belieff my grandson deserves a bit of a vacation, as you say," she replied harshly.

Viktor couldn't stand it anymore; he had to say something. He knew it would be rude to interrupt Dumbledore, but enough was enough. The woman was positively intolerable!

"And did Mrs. Black agree to this accommodation?" Viktor asked.

"Vell, I belieff not," she said reluctantly. "Besides, there is too much noise in this house. I did not know that anyvon vos living here. Imagine my surprise vhen I see none other then Viktor Krum, in the arms of a filthy mudblood girl. Igor vill vont to hear about this!" she said triumphantly, with not a little malice.

Viktor's hand went instantly to his wand. Dumbledore stood up just as quickly and walked up to Viktor, maneuvering himself between him and the leering woman in the portrait. He placed his weathered old hand on Viktor's trembling shoulder and spoke softly.

"Viktor, do not let words affect you! I believe that I can speak with Mrs. Karkaroff alone for few minutes. If you don't mind, I will be down in a moment, all right?"

Viktor did not want to leave Dumbledore alone with her, but he did as he was asked, nodding in agreement and glancing once again at the horrible witch in the picture, who had the audacity to smirk proudly at him once again. He shook his head, trying to clear the red haze of anger that her ugly words had provoked. He quickly exited the attic, walking heavily down the stairs and into the living room.

Viktor joined Hermione and the rest of the occupants of Number 12 Grimwauld Place, who were now in the midst of a loud discussion. The meeting had been adjourned with Dumbledore's departure, and the Order members were milling about, discussing amongst themselves what kind of danger they were in. No one seemed to notice that Ginny, Harry, Ron, and the twins were standing just outside the entryway. When Viktor entered, they all fell silent and stared at him. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. Hermione, sensing his unease, immediately came to his side, taking his hand in hers.

In a lowered voice, she asked, "Is everything ok? What happened up there? Where's Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore is still talking vith her." He was too aware of the fact that everyone was hanging on to his every word. He didn't want to reveal too much of what had gone on upstairs, at least not until Dumbledore returned.

Hermione, I do not vish to discuss this vith everyvon listening here. Dumbledore is talking to Karkaroff's grandmother. It is very likely that she did not hear any of our discussions, but it is suspicious that she is here at all. Viktor looked at Hermione intently, hoping that she had picked up on his thoughts.

She did. She squeezed his hand lightly and nodded. "Let's wait for Dumbledore, then."

In a short time, the sounds of the wooden stairs squeaking reverberated throughout the house. Footsteps descended quickly, and Dumbledore appeared suddenly in the middle of the room.

He appeared flushed and annoyed. All conversation and speculations died instantly, and they looked at the Headmaster for some kind of an explanation.

Dumbledore sensed the mounting excitement and frustration in the room. He spoke rapidly, as if he wanted to disseminate the information as quickly as possible so that they could move on to other, more pressing matters. His next words confirmed this.

"I know that you are all curious as to what this incident means to our cause, whether we will have to move our headquarters, and so on. I will attempt to explain in as expedient a manner as possible. The witch in the portrait is Mrs. Karkaroff, Igor Karkaroffs grandmother. She claims that she came to visit Mrs. Black - her dear old friend. She also came to ask if her grandson could stay in this house for a while, to, as she put it, "take a well-deserved rest." We of course know that she meant to find a place for him to hide. Ironically, the wizarding world at large knows that most of the Black family has had ties with The Dark Lord. Why Karkaroff would want to hide here is beyond me. I assure you that I got all the answers from Mrs. Karkaroff that I needed; it took a bit of persuasion before she cooperated, but I made her an offer she couldn't refuse, and have therefore concluded that she was telling me the truth." Dumbledore paused and made himself comfortable on the couch while the rest of the room stood around him in various degrees of a shock. He continued.

"Mrs. Karkaroff came not only to ask Mrs. Black for a favour, but also to confirm the rumor that Viktor and Hermione were indeed together, wherever they were. With Mrs. Black's connections, she assumed that she or one of the other portrait occupants would have heard something; it came as a great surprise to her, then, when she saw the both of them in the house."

Hermione's hand tightened around Viktor's.

"Karkaroff couldn't very well walk through the front door, so he sent his grandmother ahead of him, knowing that she knew Mrs. Black. What I also discovered, and this is perhaps the most ominous news of all, was that Voldemort offered Karkaroff immunity if he delivered Viktor to him; he would forgive Karkaroff all his sins and let him live freely. The truth of that promise is suspect, at best. So Karkaroff, hoping that he would find Viktor's whereabouts, was also looking for a place to hide. Now, why he would want to come here in the first place I do not know myself. He obviously does not know that the Order is using it as its headquarters. I believe, though, that he is trying to play both sides. I also believe that he could be useful to us. We need to figure out how we can get him to come to us, without revealing our location," Dumbledore finished, looking blandly at the shocked faces surrounding him.

"I think I haff a good idea." Viktor spoke quietly, clenching his teeth in anger. He couldn't believe that his former headmaster was up to his old tricks. He thought about what he wanted to say to Dumbledore, and decided that he would rather say it in private than in front of everyone.

"I would love to hear it. Perhaps it would be best if we all returned to the kitchen and continued the meeting, then?" Dumbledore replied, and Viktor sighed in relief.

After more protests from those who were not allowed to attend, they all gathered back in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley assigned more work to the rest and, satisfied with her bossing, returned to the meeting already in progress.

Dumbledore addressed Viktor.

"Viktor, please go on. I am most curious to hear your ideas."

Viktor cleared his throat and spoke shyly.

"As most of you know, Karkaroff vos my old headmaster. I haff spent a great deal of time with him, or he vith me, I should say. He attended most of my Quidditch meetings, as he said he had shaped my career to vot it is today. I had time to learn many things about him; unvillingly, I might add. I haff met many of his acquaintances at banquets and balls. Where he exploited me like his toy for all to see, Viktor added mentally. "I haff learned much information about his dealings; things vhich, until recently, haff not been known to many." Viktor stopped, looking at Dumbledore for approval.

"Continue Viktor, it's alright," Dumbledore assured him.

Viktor took a deep breath, then plunged deeply into memories that he had long ago tried to rid himself of.

***

After a stunning Quidditch victory the summer before his seventh year, Viktor had been forced to join his Vratsa teammates for an evening of celebration. Their chosen form of entertainment, of course, had been a night of drunken debauchery in a local bar. As if to cement the impression that he was somehow responsible for Viktor's considerable skills, Karkaroff had insisted on joining his favourite pupil.

Viktor leaned against the wall, surveying the crowded room with an expression of utter exhaustion and boredom. He would rather have been at home reading peacefully, not standing in a loud bar surrounded by vodka and screaming fangirls. He knew from experience that the revelries would continue all night, or at least until more than half of the team was passed out on the floor. His insides squirmed in revulsion at the sight of one of his teammates trying to convince a young-looking witch in a shockingly violet dress to go back to his hotel room, using crude hand gestures to convey his meaning. The lady in question did not seem interested. She shouted something over the noise, and he shot Viktor a look of utter contempt over her head. Far from being amused, Viktor leaned more heavily against the wall, making a mental note to avoid everything purple that evening.

Karkaroff, on the other hand, appeared to be in his element. Even without his star pupil by his side, he was full of boastful contempt. When he was drunk, he had a tendency to pound the table repeatedly with his fist, punctuating each thump with a violent curse. Halfway through a bottle of vodka and in the midst of one of his "good old day" stories, he would become even more vicious, abusing anyone who was unlucky enough to interrupt his tirade. As horrific as his drunken behavior was, it was nothing compared to the stories themselves, most of which Viktor could recite from memory, though they were too terrible to actually repeat.

Viktor was contemplating how best he could escape to his hotel room without anyone noticing, when something in his headmaster's story caught his attention. It sounded completely unfamiliar, which in itself was unusual; Karkaroff had a very specific repertoire, which he rarely deviated from in public. Most of his tales followed a specific form, which involved glorifying himself on some quest that he had probably never been on, in as loud a manner as possible.

Viktor stood up straighter and watched his headmaster tell the story animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands. This one, like the others, concerned his "glory days" and his exploits with "certain famous friends." Viktor noticed that even in his drunken stupor, Karkaroff would never name any of these "friends" specifically. His stint in Azkaban had made him an extremely cautious and distrustful man. This particular night, he talked about a young squib who had "gotten what he deserved" for trying to convince him and his high-powered friends to buy some cheap muggle wine from a nearby monastery. His eyes flashed with liquor-fueled fire. The insult! How did he not know who they were? How could he dare presume that they would stoop so low as to consume that filthy, muggle-produced pigswill? He then launched into excruciating detail about the horrific tortures that he had inflicted upon the man. The torture house that Karkaroff later described, after he had gotten better acquainted with yet another bottle of vodka, was one that had (supposedly) been used by Voldemort himself to torture and kill his most vocal opponents.

Viktor blocked out the rest of it. He felt ashamed to be in the same room with this man. As Karkaroff finished telling his foul tale, Viktor slid out the door of the bar and into the dark, cool night.

***

There was a contemplative silence as Viktor finished his narrative. He stared at the floor, his hands clenched together as if in prayer. He wondered if Hermione would think less of him, knowing now the entire horrific story.

Mr. Weasley, who until now had quietly listened from the back of the kitchen, was the first to speak.

"Viktor, do you know more about the location of this torture house? It's a long shot, but perhaps that place still exists, and that is where Hermione's parents are being held?" Hermione sat up straight, her eyes widening.

Viktor tried to recall that night. It wasn't easy. He had tried very hard to tune out Karkaroff's bragging, but for some reason he remembered the conversation of that particular evening very well.

"He described it as being in a remote location, an abandoned house on the outskirts of a mountainside village. He later said that he used to get very good vino from an old muggle monk nearby, vhich is odd, considering vot he told his companions." He paused. "I apologize. I don't think that it is very useful information." Viktor sighed, trying to think of anything else. More than anything, he did not want to disappoint Hermione.

"Well, you might have given us more that you think. I know of an old monastery in the Carpathian Mountains. They have more then good vino there, but that's neither here nor there," Mad-Eye said, smiling mysteriously to himself. No one dared ask why he was smiling. Mad-Eye had many interesting tales from his Auror days, but few of them were pleasant, or worth hearing the words "CONSTANT VIGILENCE!" shouted at you every few minutes.

"It seems that Igor spilled just enough information, not knowing how much it would help us in the future. Viktor, is there anything else that you remember? Any detail would be helpful," Dumbledore asked. But Viktor just shook his head.

Hermione slid closer to him on the bench, allowing him to put an arm around her. He was a bit startled by her gesture. They were surrounded by so many people. To show such affection in front of them...Viktor knew it was her way of showing her support.

"That is a long shot, Moody, but it's worth looking into," Professor Lupin said.

"Any lead is helpful. Now, let's discuss how we are going to find the exact location. Alastor, do you still have connections at the monastery? It would be useful to do a bit of reconnaissance," Dumbledore suggested.

"I know the town. It's in southern Romania, a nice little village in the mountainside. The monks have quite the trade going on there; they'll sell anything to keep the building running. Wine is only one of the things that they provide. I'm running out, so I wouldn't mind making the trip and checking it out," he replied.

"Let me go vith you, then. I can speak enough Romanian to get by. I could be useful," Viktor interjected.

No! You can't! That would be too dangerous, Hermione thought quickly. She looked at Viktor, pleading with him, her eyes full of tears.

"Hermione, please. I must do something..." He trailed off in thought. He wanted to help. Being stuck in this house, talking endlessly about what to do next, did not feel right anymore. He knew the danger, but he also knew that this could be the lead that they were looking for. He wanted Hermione to be happy again. If it meant going to the ends of the world for her, he would.

"It's a good idea to go visit the monastery, Alastor. But Viktor, for you to go would be extremely dangerous. If Karkaroff is trying to get you, it could put both you and the Order in jeopardy." Dumbledore was deep in thought. "Too many aurors in one small muggle village might draw too much attention. For Alastor to go for his wine would be fine; like he said, he can look around and bring back the information we need. We can send someone less known to Voldemort and his followers to assist him."

"I believe we might not need to make arrangements to meet Mr. Cyganov anymore, as I believe that this is the same village in Romania that he was going to lead us to. Perhaps I should go with Alastor, instead of Mr. Krum?" Mr. Goodpasture suggested.

This was met with general approval, and the meeting began to draw to a close. Viktor's head was full of plans, ideas, and visions of swimming caramel eyes.