Complicated Wishes, Confusing Jealousy

- Chapter Two -

The Feast and Familiar Face

The stars spotting the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall twinkled down on Harry, Ron and Hermione merrily as they entered behind Dean, Ginny and the others. They made their way passed the four long house tables and took seats at the Gryffindor table, decked with its usual gold plates and goblets for the Welcoming Feast.

All around them, their housemates and friends were chatting excitedly about the summer's events, discussing the year ahead or otherwise the deadly silence of You-Know-Who (Lord Voldemort). Hermione sat amongst it all, without, for the first time in over a month, a care in her mind. She was glad to be back at Hogwarts, where classes, studying and prefect duties could occupy her mind rather than Ron and her hormonal want to be kissed.

Letting out an inner sigh, she turned her gaze to the High table and scanned across it with her eyes, only to have them land on an unfamiliar man, who sat beside tiny Professor Flitwick, and was gazing down at the hundreds of students that filled the Hall. His dark hair and skin glowed slightly with the light protruding from the floating candles close by, distinguishing the surly expression that masked his lined face. Even at a distance, Hermione could tell he had a large hooked nose that caused a small, unusual jolt within the region of her stomach. As unrecognisable as the man was to her, he appeared somewhat familiar.

"Who's the grumpy-looking git next to Flitwick?" Ron's voice asked beside Hermione, causing her to pull her gaze away from the man.

"New Defence the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry guessed with a shrug. "He definitely looks grumpy, doesn't he? You'd think he'd be happy to be here at Hogwarts if he took the job."

"He looks foreign," Hermione said knowledgeably, turning her attention back to the man. "Perhaps he's tired from a long journey."

"Yeah, well, let's hope he's better than that Umbridge," Ron said, looking up at the man with doubt. "He doesn't look like a cheery bloke at all, does he, though?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can't judge a new person straight away, you know, Ron. He could end up being one of your favourite teachers once we've had a class with him. For all you know, he could be just as good a teacher as Professor Lupin was."

"Somehow I doubt it, Hermione," Ron responded. "I mean, look at him! I doubt I've ever seen a person smile less, and I've been sitting next to Harry in Potions!"

Harry smirked at Ron's joke and silently agreed with him; next to the new teacher, Snape looked radiant.

Hermione was about to retort when the doors of the Hall swung open and Professor McGonagall, a stern-looking woman with her black hair tied back in an extremely tight bun, entered; a long line of petrified first-years followed nervously behind her. Harry, Ron and Hermione watched as they made their way between the four long house tables and assembled in a long line in front of the teachers table, facing the hundreds of other students as they looked around anxiously.

McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them and added the ragged old Sorting Hat to rest on top of it. A short silence followed until a tear near the rim of the worn hat opened up wide like a mouth and it broke into song.

Over a thousand years ago,

My destiny was shown.

For Hogwarts school divided,

Each Founder to their own.

The four greatest wizards of the time

Proposed a great idea,

To teach the world more sortilege

Thus Hogwarts School is here!

"But who," they asked "would get the chance

to have the final say?"

For each had different expectances

And favoured their own way.

For Gryffindor, though good in thought,

Wanted all the brave,

But courage breeds pomposity,

For Slytherin to save.

Great Salazar knew who he needs,

The blood of magic lines,

Cunning and power in all his house,

Care nothing for their minds.

Rowena wanted those of thought,

Intelligence to learn,

So Ravenclaw chose the wise,

Each waiting for their turn.

Sweet Helga hated the groups distant,

And in her house resides,

Those who care for everyone,

And have all traits besides.

So who was to choose between the houses,

When they no longer sat?

Why me of course, was there a doubt?

The Hogwarts Sorting Hat.

I know your thoughts and deepest wish,

Try me on and see,

Sit upon the stool of mine,

And discover where you'll be!

The Great Hall broke into applause as the Sorting Hat finished its last word and gave a small and extremely odd-looking bow before returning to its still self. Professor McGonagall had stepped forward again holding a long scroll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you are to step forward and place the Hat on your head and sit on the stool," she said to the first-years, who now, if possible, looked even more frightened than before the Sorting Hat had sung its song. "Aura, Alyson."

A small girl with rosy cheeks and long, golden-brown hair stepped forward, placed the Hat on her head and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" the Sorting Hat shouted as it came to its decision. The Ravenclaw table, to the right of the Gryffindor one, broke into applause and Alyson ran off to join them.

Harry turned to Hermione as "Boot, Mark" was called up to the Sorting Hat.

"Is it just me or does the new teacher look familiar?" he asked in an undertone, casting a small glance back up to the man sitting next to Flitwick, whose expression had somewhat relaxed; he was now watching the Sorting with everyone else. Hermione felt a small pang inside her. So Harry thought he looked familiar as well, did he?

Looking up at the man as well, Hermione nodded slightly. "Who do you think he is?" she asked. "He is quite familiar, but I can't remember where I might have seen him or anything. You don't think he's one of the Death Eaters who attacked us in the Department of Mysteries, do you?"

Harry's eyes went suddenly hard and he quickly looked up at the new professor again, who was now watching as "Espig, Karalee" got Sorted. He stared at him for a few minutes before turning back to Hermione. "No," he replied eventually. "I would've remembered if he were."

Hermione nodded uncertainly and looked around at Ron, who was grumbling to Seamus about being hungry. She had a distinct feeling that Ron didn't find the man familiar at all, but she really wished she knew who the man was...

There were only three people left to be Sorted: A pretty young girl with dirty-blonde hair, a boy with dark brown hair, and a tiny, funny-looking boy with slightly dark skin and red hair. Hermione could feel Ron shaking with silent laughing beside her as the boy, "Wellby, Bradley" stepped forward to try on the Hat.

Typical, Hermione thought, casting a sideways glance at him, as the Hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the boy skipped off to join the cheering table. And, by the time "Zeyrek, Hasan", the final first-year, had taken a seat at their table, Ron's giggles about Bradley's appearance still hadn't subsided.

The noise in the Hall slowly became silent again, as McGonagall carted the stool and Hat away. Professor Dumbledore was situated in the centre of the High table and he stood up and beamed around at the students, his silver hair and beard shining in the light and his blue eyes twinkling merrily behind his half-moon glasses.

"Tuck in!" he said simply and brightly, before sitting back down in his high-backed chair.

Instantly the golden dishes and platters that laid the long tables filled with foods of all sorts, from lamb chops to vegetable salads. Ron gave a happy sigh of relief and sprung to grab the nearest dish as quickly as he possibly could and piled his plate with several marinated chicken pieces. Harry and Hermione shared a tiny, amused glance before grabbing a dish themselves.

Across the table, Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ginny were talking about the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's nationality.

"He looks German to me," Seamus said thickly, ripping a chunk of meat off his chicken leg.

"Nuh," Dean said, shaking his head. "My cousin's engaged to a German bloke and he doesn't look anything like that."

"My guess is Bulgarian," Ginny said with a small shrug. Hermione looked up at her abruptly. "Remember all the Durmstrang students that came here for the Triwizard Tournament? They looked similar to this man. The colour of the skin, the hair..."

"Nuh," Dean said again as he grabbed a chicken leg from the platter in front of them. "Somehow I don't think he is. Maybe he's an Afghan..."

As the others all shook their heads, Hermione looked back down at her plate and the small amount of tossed salad she had spooned onto it. Bulgarian. She hadn't even thought of it until she heard Ginny suggest it. She had met quite a few Bulgarian people back in her fourth year and most of them had been similar in the way they'd looked. Perhaps that was why the man was so familiar to her... But then, he was also somewhat familiar to Harry...

Next to her, Ron suddenly started coughing and, startled, Hermione looked around at him to see him hurriedly pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Frowning at him as he raised the glass to his lips, his freckled cheeks extremely red, she wondered what had caused him such a coughing fit. He answered the question for her, though.

"Nearly - choked - on - my - chicken!" he said, taking small gasps of breath between words.

"Yes, well, at the speed you're eating, it must be hard to avoid," Hermione said, glancing down at his already half-eaten plate of food, still holding twice the amount of everyone else's sitting in their vicinity. "I really wish I knew how you stay so skinny, Ron, when you eat banquets like that. Are you expecting to fit dessert in on top of all that chicken, chops and salad?"

Ron gave her a small lop-sided smile. "It goes right through me," he said, turning back to his plate and picking up a marinated chicken wing. "I grow taller rather than fatter."

"Yes and if you grow any taller, I swear you'll be going for the world record for tallest male of your age," Hermione said in a casual tone, causing many people around them to laugh.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, his ears going slightly red, as he absently continued to eat his chicken wing.

"I'm merely saying that you're very tall for our age, Ron," Hermione replied with a shrug. "I honestly think that in the three weeks I didn't see you over the summer, you grew five inches in height. Not that that's a bad thing or anything," Hermione added. "I haven't got anything against the fact that you're tall." She gave Ron a small smile as he frowned.

There was a moment of silence among Harry, Ron and Hermione as they listened to the others as they continued their rant about what the new professor's nationality might be - with Seamus now suggesting he was Arabian.

Suddenly, a rather small boy with straw-coloured hair and the name Colin Creevey took a seat next to Harry.

"Hiya, Harry!" he said over-brightly, flashing a toothy smile at Ron and Hermione.

"Hi Colin," Harry said unenthusiastically in response. "How was your summer?"

"It was brilliant!" Colin stated. "Dennis and I went fishing down by the lake near where I live and I caught a whole heap of carp! And guess what, Harry? I got prefect!"

"Congratulations," Harry said, just as unenthusiastically as before.

"Hey, Colin!" Dennis, Colin's younger brother, called down the table towards them. "Ian has a joke he wants to tell you!"

Colin bade them goodbye and hurried back to his seat.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "Who's the other new prefect?" he asked, looking sideways at Colin slightly.

Ron gave a grim look. "One of Ginny's friends, Marcia Marmalade," he replied. "I honestly don't see how either of them got the job. They're both hyperactive idiots!"

"Ron, how many times do I have to tell you?" Hermione asked indignantly. "You're a prefect and I'm not the only one that expects you to set a good example towards younger students! They are also prefects and we have to accept the fact that they are a little different than us and teach and supervise them properly! I don't think they'd exactly appreciate being called idiots by someone who they look up to, either!"

"Alright, alright, keep your knickers on, Hermione," Ron said, suddenly realising that the main meal dishes had disappeared and been replaced by various puddings. He hurriedly dived to grab the chocolate and honeycomb trifle sitting nearby.

Hermione sighed heavily and shook her head. Typical.

Once well fed and watered, the dishes once again cleared themselves and the Hall filled with silence once more. Slowly, Dumbledore stood, his arms drawn wide again.

"Welcome," he announced, beaming around at them all, "to another magical year at Hogwarts! I expect that you are all well fed and growing tired, but before you can trot off to bed, I have a few announcements I would like to make.

"Firstly, I would like all first-years to please note that the forest at the edge of the grounds is strictly forbidden to all. Second, may I introduce you all to our new member of staff and Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Jaroslav Krum -"

"Krum?" Ron and Hermione each repeated at the same time, looking at the new professor abruptly, their expressions shocked and stunned.

"- Professor Krum has come to Hogwarts all the way from Bulgaria and we hope his stay here is enjoyable. Many of you may be familiar with his son, Viktor, who was a participant in the Triwizard Tournament when it ran here two years ago, and is also the Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch Team!"

A large applause rang throughout the Hall, causing Professor Krum to smile ever so slightly. Beside a shocked Hermione, Ron was cursing him quietly.

"Our caretaker, Mr Filch would also like me to inform you all that Skiving Snackboxes" - Several students snorted -"and Snapping Skipping Ropes have been added to the list of forbidden objects in the castle. The full list can be viewed on Mr Filch's office door. And, finally, Quidditch try-outs will be held in the second week of term!

"Now, off to bed you skip!" Dumbledore finished cheerfully.

Hermione was in a state of shock. Viktor Krum's father was at Hogwarts? Viktor Krum's father was going to be teaching them?

She only vaguely knew what she was doing as she stood up and began helping the new prefects, Colin and Marcia Marmalade, collect all the first-years so they could lead them up to Gryffindor Tower, hardly even noticing Ron nearby, who was merely watching her organise them.

"No, Colin, that boy's in Ravenclaw," Hermione said. "Only gather up the Gryffindor first-years." She turned to see Ron just standing there and sighed. "Ron, can you please help me here? Colin and Marcia are having awful trouble."

Ron reluctantly came forward and helped form the first-years into two lines, before Colin and Marcia clumsily started leading them out of the Hall. Hermione turned to Ron.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, looking around. "Has he already gone up?"

"No," Ron replied, shaking his head, "he's over at the teachers' table talking to Hagrid. No doubt having a sweet conversation about one of Grawp's new adventures..."

"Yes, well let's just hope that one of those new adventures doesn't include him killing anyone or thing," Hermione said darkly with a tiny shake of her head.

"No, but it does include him starting to read," Harry said grimly from behind her. "His favourite story's Cinderella apparently."

Hermione turned around to look at him. "But - but he can hardly speak a word of English let alone read one," she said, a frown printed on her face. "Hagrid hasn't been putting Intelligible Charms on Grawp, has he, because they can go extremely wrong if not used correctly."

"No, Hagrid's been trying to teach him," Harry said with a shrug. "And his English is quickly getting better from what Hagrid said. He can say nearly a whole sentence before breaking out in Giant language again."

Beside Hermione, Ron gave a great yawn. "Can we quit talking about Grawp and head up to bed? I could almost fall asleep on the spot," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Eating and sleeping. That's all he ever does," Hermione muttered under her breath, heard by only Harry, who turned to look at her strangely, although an amused smile had surfaced on his lips.

They exited the Great Hall behind a bunch of Hufflepuffs, who were talking about Professor Krum; they headed up the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall towards Gryffindor Tower.

"I can't believe that Viktor never told me," Hermione said with a frown. "All those letters he sent me over the summer. Not once did he mention anything about his father getting the job of our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher or even applying for it. Though, I admit, he doesn't speak of his father often. He doesn't go into his family life. Most of his letters are talking about some recent Quidditch game, or how much he hates his team captain, and how much he mi-" She stopped talking abruptly and cast a tiny glance at Ron out of the corner of her eye.

"How much Vicky what, Hermione?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes slightly as suspicion crept up on him.

"Oh - er - never mind," Hermione said quickly. "And don't call him Vicky!"

Ron ignored her comment. "What does Vicky say in all those precious letters he sends you? Does he tell you how much he loves you? How much he can't wait to see you again? How much he wants to get you in the sa-?"

"Stop right there, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione said, going slightly pink in the cheeks and stopping in her tracks as they reached the second floor landing and glaring at him. "If you have to know, he merely says how much he misses me. That is nothing compared to what you're accusing. Viktor and I are definitely not having some long-distant love affair and we never will be!" She looked at Harry for a bit of support, but he just stood there, used to the constant arguing and bickering between his two best friends and knowing better than to take sides or interfere. As Hermione continued, her voice was that of forced calmness. "Viktor and I are no more than friends, pen-pals if you rather, and it has never been, and never will be, anything more than that - especially on my part." She finished as though that put an end to their dispute and started heading towards the next set of stairs.

"He definitely sees it as something more than that, Hermione," Ron said and Harry gave a great sigh and headed off ahead of them, not wanting to hear anything more of their most common rivalry.

"I honestly don't know what your problem with Viktor is, Ron," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. "Ever since I went to the Yule Ball with him in fourth year, you've had nothing more than heartless insults and accusations to say about him and it is really starting to annoy me. You used to speak nothing but good about Viktor as though he was some sort of hero or something. What ever happened, Ron? What suddenly caused you to hold this grudge against him?"

Ron merely stood there staring at her. He opened his mouth a couple of times, as though going to say something in response, but closed it again without a word. He could tell Hermione was waiting for him to answer and, after a couple of silent minutes, wasn't remotely surprised when she let out an agitated sigh.

"If you're not going to answer, just forget about what I said," she stated irritably, before storming passed him towards Gryffindor Tower.

Ron, with his mood worsening, ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. What had caused him to hold such a grudge towards Viktor Krum?

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