Past Present

"Jumping beans," Ron said to the Fat Lady, and Harry and Ron stepped through the portrait hole into the common room. Hermione was waiting for them, back from arithmancy already.

"Ready to go down and see Viktor?" she asked them.

"Hermione Granger putting anything before homework? Call Rita Skeeter!" Ron said in mock horror, clutching his chest.

"Oh, stuff it Ron. Besides, I'm done with everything but arithmancy, anyway."

"Just divination for us. We'll have to make up some new disaster to befall us in the next week or so when we get back," Harry told her.

They trailed back out of the portrait hole and down to the infirmary. Viktor was sitting up, looking at a small leather volume, and Ivan and Natasha had made themselves at home in the little bit of unused space on his cot. "What are you reading?" Hermione asked as she settled into one of the chairs next to the bed.

"These same notes I haff been staring at all afternoon, and they still do not make sense. He turned the book around and held the pages open. There, in neat handwriting were the words

earth

air -Greeks, 4 elements?

fire

water

Two escape, old order, defeat, new

Pureblood, halfblood, mudblood.

death pursue

risen cannot last, past is present, present past

look to your heart

"Mean anything to the rest of you?" he asked.

"Errr, which bit? I understand 'Greeks'. I quite like their gyros," Ron replied.

"Makes as much sense as anything else I haff come up with. Perhaps I should just write in 'sandwiches' and be done with it. New secret weapon in the war against Voldemort, Greek food," Viktor said, shrugging.

"Okay, now I admit I'm lost," Hermione said.

Viktor shut the journal and looked up at her. "Remember the Guardian going through this when we went to Durmstrang? Before I left, he told me something along the lines of 'figure out the puzzle, it will tell you what to fight with', and if that is not the puzzle he was talking about, I do not know what is. Only thing I can come up with is that the first four things he named, the ancient Greeks called them the four elements. They thought the entire world was made up of these four things. Other than that, I am dry on ideas. Spoiled rotten dog," he said absently as Natasha rooted her muzzle into his hand angling for a pat.

"Tell you anything else?" Hermione asked, resettling in her chair.

"A whole lot of nothing. Nothing useful, anyway. He told me that my suspicions about last year were right. When you started talking about the dementors being at Hogwarts year before last, it made me think they might have been welcome at Durmstrang, too. I guess that was what he was referring to. That my fears about what was coming were warranted. Pretty obvious once Karkaroff showed up, if I did not get the hint after talking to Harry about last year. A lot about how he could not tell me more, how prophecy can be thwarted by what we choose to do, nothing very specific," Viktor replied, laying the journal on the bedside table.

"What you said about the dementors, the other night, about them leaving Azkaban, what did you mean?" Harry asked.

Viktor looked Harry in the eye. "They are not going to stay at Azkaban. You know that deep down, do you, Harry? Common sense, if nothing else. Nothing that terrible and powerful is going to be happy being a Ministry lapdog any longer than they haff to. Fudge is a fool to think the Ministry is in control of the dementors. I am surprised they are still there now. Ever heard the phrase 'Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons'? You do not make deals with them, make them your jailers, either. Just biding their time until it is convenient or until their hand is forced. When they leave Azkaban, that is when it really begins. The lines will be drawn and even Fudge will haff to admit that Voldemort is back. No one wants to admit it yet, but Fudge is being thicker about it than most. He will not even entertain the possibility seriously. Why should they leave as long as the Ministry is blind enough to start threatening anyone who dares say Voldemort is back with Azkaban? Fudge does the dirty work, Voldemort's enemies get locked up, and the dementors get a well-stocked private larder. So many deals with the Devil, and they are going to come due, soon. Fudge is going to regret not listening to Dumbledore."

"Other ministries... are they... do they... do they believe it?" Hermione asked carefully.

"More likely to than Fudge. The Russian Ministry, I think they are undecided but leaning. All it would take is a scrap of hard proof, maybe even just some hard convincing of the right people, and I think they would be willing to believe. The Bulgarian Minister, he always seemed a sensible and practical sort, and I believe Potenko has his ear. Potenko is certainly convinced of it after speaking to Dumbledore. Any others, I haff no idea," Viktor answered.

"How would you know for sure?" Ron queried.

"Alexei's father works for the Russian Ministry. The Bulgarian Minister, he buried enough Aurors in his time. Colleagues. Friends. Family even," Viktor said, plucking at the edge of the blanket. "No one wants to see that kind of horror again. Even wants to admit it might come again. But only a complete fool can stand there and say that dragons do not exist when there is one burning down your house in front of you. Surely Fudge is not a complete fool? He will haff to admit it when confronted with enough evidence?" Viktor said, looking up at Harry. Harry realized it was a direct question.

"I... I don't know. Fudge is not exactly as fond of me as he once was. Seems to think I'm a complete nutter, now. I get the distinct feeling he thought I was full of it when I told him what had happened, who killed Cedric," Harry stammered.

"Potenko seems to think that Fudge has this idea that Dumbledore wants his position. Politics. Politics will get us all killed if Fudge leaves it too long before he comes to his senses. No matter how many other ministries believe it, Fudge needs to. It will begin here. Not in Russia, not in Bulgaria, but here. This is where it starts," Viktor said with conviction.

"Again, how can you be so sure?" Ron asked, but Harry and Hermione could tell it was halfhearted.

"The storm will break and you will be in the eye of it. That's what the Guardian told me before I left. But it did not matter. I already knew. All those years at Durmstrang, and I suppose I may haff seen more true dark arts performed here at Hogwarts last year than I ever did there. How one could do what the Crouches did... I do not know. Your own son. Your own father. Hogwarts and Durmstrang, they haff some housecleaning to do. Both of them haff those opposed and loyal to Voldemort inside their halls. It was always so. It will always be until there is a complete victory for one side or the other," Viktor said plainly.

"You mean when Voldemort is defeated." Ron said emphatically.

Viktor's voice came back, a little flat, "Or wins. This is not a fairy tale, Ron. In real life, sometimes the dragon does win. I think it largely depends on how well we choose. Being 'good' does not predestine you to win. Sometimes being lucky is more important. This whole thing may come down to a lucky guess, a blind choice, a single remembered kindness or a remembered cruelty from years ago." Harry nodded mutely. He was thinking of all the happy and unhappy accidents that had saved him over the years, when facing Voldemort. At the word 'kindness', the face of Wormtail flashed in Harry's mind. Dumbledore had warned him that Peter Pettigrew's life debt might very well pay off some day for Harry. Maybe mercy was a strength just like compassion. For the first time since Dumbledore's speech, Harry felt that maybe, just maybe, letting Wormtail live had not been such a bad choice after all.