Past Present

The rain went on through the evening, but the lightning stopped by twilight. Harry and Ron spent the most of it playing exploding snap. "Hah! Those went everywhere... Harry?"

"What do you think they're talking about? And what do you suppose they got him for his birthday? I couldn't stand to wait if they had already put it in my hand, could you?" Harry peered out the window to the porch, where they could see Viktor's dark head inclining toward Hermione's. There seemed to be a deep, serious conversation going on. All they could see of her above the window was her easily recognizable hair sticking up above the folds of one of Viktor's light cloaks. It was cool when the rain fell outside.

"Who knows? They've been at it a while. Maybe they're just saying goodbye," Ron said. They didn't come in until the sun had gone down completely and the only light was the moon. The four of them went to bed soon after.

Harry woke up and blinked out his window. The rain and the clouds had cleared, instead the bright moonlight flooded into his room. He must have fallen asleep with his mouth open, he thought, as he tested the confines of his mouth with his dry tongue. What he wouldn't give for a glass of milk. Well, why not? He got out of bed and sneaked downstairs as quietly as possible, feeling his way across to the kitchen. He checked the small icebox in the corner of the kitchen and found the milk, and tried three cupboards before finding a mug. Sometimes he missed having an electric refrigerator. Could use a light in there, he thought, poking about with your wand was awkward. He wandered around the kitchen and eventually to the back door, opening it and stepping out onto the porch, into the noise of dripping leaves in the orchard and frogs and crickets chirping.

The weathered and silvery boards were smooth and warm under his bare feet, the air warmer but fresh and clean and earthy, with just a hint of green grass, as though everything outside had been scrubbed. He would have shrieked if he hadn't had a mouthful of milk when Viktor's barely audible voice interrupted his survey of the night and the nighttime chorus in the yard, "Harry?" Viktor put a steadying hand on his shoulder when he jumped. "Sorry," Viktor said softly, "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I just wanted some milk. You're out to drown me in it. It's a wonder I didn't inhale the mug. How did you know I was out here anyway?" Harry asked peevishly.

Viktor sat heavily in the same chair he had occupied earlier in the evening, next to Hermione. He was in his apparently customary sleeping attire, baggy shorts, and Harry idly wondered if Viktor ever got truly cold. "I sleep light, remember? I wondered where you were going at this hour, like you had an appointment," Viktor replied, sounding a little exasperated. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Harry, we need to talk, anyway."

"For the last time, Viktor, there's nothing between me and Hermione," Harry teased. Viktor acted as though he hadn't heard, clearing his throat.

"I owe you an explanation."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Too bad. You need to know. As much of it as I know, what little that is. I think you need to know. Keeping secrets has caused enough damage all around, I think. Hermione agreed. In theory, anyway, since she does not know exactly what I am going to tell you. She seems to think that had you been told a few things in years past, you could haff been saved a lot of trouble. Since it concerns you the most, I think you deserve to hear it first," Viktor continued in a slightly hoarse voice. He sounded like he could use a mug of milk.

"Okay. Midnight confessions. Round one. What is it you have to tell me?" Harry settled into the chair next to him. He noticed Viktor's hands tightening on the arms of his own chair, as though he were steeling himself for a blow.

"The maze. What happened there. What Karkaroff did for the two years before, or what I think he did. Why I think he did it. Why I could not keep Crouch at bay when he did the Imperius Curse when I should haff been able," Viktor spoke without looking at Harry. When he did turn to look Harry in the eye, Harry almost wished he hadn't. Viktor could be intimidating in the best of circumstances. With his dark, piercing eyes catching the moonlight, Harry felt skewered on his gaze. And there was something else. Viktor looked haunted, oddly out of character. It gave him the same creeping feeling he had when Albus Dumbledore was not his usual twinkling self. When Dumbledore showed rage or that glimmer of triumph. Or that look of defeat.

Viktor swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and began. "I always had this... feeling... about Karkaroff. That something just was not right. I had no real reason to distrust him, except for the way he treated Alexei and anyone else he took a dislike to, like your Snape, until a little over two years ago. That is when the rumors started. Talk of dark marks. Death Eaters. Some of the students pulling away into groups. Ministry...demonstrations. I think Karkaroff suspected even then...that I had a talent for certain... areas. I think he was starting to feel us out, sift through us. See which of us demonstrated skill at certain things. Which ones it would be worthwhile to pursue." He told Harry everything he could stand to reveal without going into unnecessary detail. The voice. The illnesses. The maze. How demonstrating skill at certain things in Durmstrang was a double-edged sword as long as Karkaroff was there.

"You were playing half-crippled, then, if you were constantly doing two things at once, trying to fight Karkaroff. That explains why you fell behind. Otherwise, you should have been able to thoroughly whip at least me and Fleur. You whipped Fleur anyway. Cedric might have given you a run for your money, but you could have pulled well away if it hadn't been for that. That, and the fact that the Triwizard Tournament is about as random a cheatfest as I've ever seen. Crouch feeding me hints, it's the only way I managed to stay with competitors who were three years older. So, you think Karkaroff wanted to buy his way back in?" Harry asked when Viktor finally paused.

"I think so. It makes sense. He turned them in. He would do anything to save his own skin. Getting back into their good graces, it is the only way he will survive. Crouch hated him. Would haff killed him given a chance, I think. I do not imagine that the rest of the Death Eaters would welcome him with open arms. I think delivering something of value, that is the only way he can do it," Viktor commented.

"And you would be something of value. You're good at something they want?"

"I am good at things I wish I did not know about. I would probably be better off. Some of the others, too. At Hogwarts, maybe they would be encouraged to be Aurors, mediwizards, potion masters. You would be something of value, too. Karkaroff may have tried it, if Crouch had not beaten him to it. If he had not been so afraid of what he thought was Moody. He may still. He is desperate. I should haff trusted Hermione's judgment better. She trusted Dumbledore, I should haff too," Viktor's shoulders fell.

"No. Viktor, you were right. You didn't know who you could trust at Hogwarts, based on what you knew. There is an ex-Death Eater on campus. Snape. You never know who to trust at Hogwarts, either. And I owe you an explanation. Hermione, Ron and I are the only ones at Hogwarts who know about this, outside of Dumbledore. Let me tell you about my godfather, and what happened on the other end of the portkey in the maze..." Harry began, feeling the need to reciprocate. He knew how hard it must have been for someone as private as Viktor to share what Karkaroff had done to him. What he was doing to Durmstrang.