Past Present

"Who the heck is that?" Ron asked, reaching for the toast and jerking his head toward the staff table.

"Haven't a clue. Maybe a new substitute, but it looks like everyone else is there. Suppose Viktor can tell us, if he eats with us this morning," Hermione replied. Harry took a long look at the new resident of the staff table, a short woman with large, bulging eyes and a horribly fluffy pink cardigan. It put Harry in mind of Hagrid's hairy overcoat. She had the look of a toad, just waiting for a fly to venture too close. In a few minutes, Viktor got up from the staff table and slipped into a chair at Gryffindor's table.

"I take back what I said about Fudge not being a complete fool. Meddler," Viktor muttered.

"Who's that woman?" Ron asked.

"Dolores Umbridge," Viktor replied shortly, looking as though he had just tasted something disgusting.

"Well, what's she doing here?" Hermione asked.

"Here to interfere, if you ask me. Supposedly, she is here to make sure the school is up to standards. Review us all, evaluate Dumbledore, she's going to be sitting in on classes. You three missed Dumbledore's announcement, you were late this morning. You all look like you slept about as well as I did. That woman is going to be trouble, mark my words," Viktor added, throwing a look over his shoulder back at the staff table.

"Greasy Git here today? He's been here two solid weeks and more," Ron said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Professor Snape is not here today , and please stop calling him that. A little respect please, even if you do not like him. Umbridge is going to be in Potions this afternoon, she will come back sometime to see Snape teach it. Fudge is going hunting for people loyal to Dumbledore. Umbridge is just the first dog on the trail. I haff to go. I need to see Professor Sprout before this afternoon, and she is booked solid in the greenhouse," Viktor said, getting up.

"Not going to eat anything?" Hermione asked.

"Ate a little before you three got here. Umbridge sort of stole my appetite even though I haff known she was coming for a week. Look, watch what you say around here, around her particularly. I get the feeling she is not going to stop looking at the end of the staff table," Viktor said, leaning over to give Hermione's hand a squeeze, then walking out of the Great Hall.

"Oooh, immediate dislike. From Viktor. That's not good. And what's with him getting after me for calling Snape by his pet name? He doesn't particularly like Snape either, does he? He hardly ever calls him Professor Snape," Ron said.

"No, but Professor Snape is still a teacher, and we're still his students, and he deserves his title. Wonder what Umbridge said or did that set him off?" Hermione mused, then gave a little yawn, gathering her books.

The day seemed too long for Harry, he was tired. He had never quite gotten back to sleep after his midnight stroll down to the common room, though he had tried to drift back off to that same place, that same voice in his dream. By the time Potions came around, he had nearly forgotten about Dolores Umbridge, until he walked into the dungeon classroom and was confronted with her sitting in Snape's chair at his desk. Viktor stood in front of it, perched on the edge, waiting for the bell. He seemed to be determinedly ignoring Umbridge, and in fact, he stood precisely in front of her, saving most of the class from having to look at her. Usually he walked the room when he spoke.

"Last class, Professor Snape tells me he finished lecturing about pain soothing potions but he just wanted me to add a bit about willow bark, that he did not haff time for. Willow bark, of course, was even used in Muggle medicine. Willow bark tea was used for headaches and pain relief. The same thing that makes willow bark tea work is used in a common medicine that I bet just about every Muggle house has in a cabinet somewhere. Anyone know?" A few scattered hands shot up, Hermione's first, of course, but Viktor gave her a subtle shake of his head and a quick flick of the eyes toward the figure behind him. "Mr. Thomas?"

"Aspirin," Dean Thomas beamed.

"And what about the stomach soothing draughts? There is an ingredient in them that is in most spice cabinets, and in a drink that a lot of Muggles recommend for an upset stomach." This time, only Hermione's hand went up. Viktor waited a long moment before nodding at her and saying, "Miss Granger?"

"Ginger. Ginger ale. I got that all the time when I was sick."

"Hem, hem," came a small clearing of the throat behind Viktor. He ignored it and went on.

"While it is not exactly a potion, ginger ale is a good example of..."

"Hem, hem," louder this time.

"...what a lot of Muggles call home remedies, or sometimes even..."

"Hem, hem!" the cough was forceful, and even more forced this time. Viktor still plunged on as though he hadn't heard.

"...herbal medicine. There are several good examples in your..."

"Pardon?" came a falsely sweet voice. For a moment, Harry had trouble placing it, as it didn't sound familiar, but he soon traced it to the toadish face that was now peeking around Viktor. She was also tapping at his arm with hand full of flashy rings.

Viktor stood and turned. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could ask a few questions?" she asked, smiling as though she had found that juicy fly.

"Since I am in the middle of teaching a class, I think it would be better to save them, unless they are about ingredients for home remedies," Viktor said softly but firmly, then turned to the class again. "There are several good examples in your book in chapter..."

"They're only tiny little questions," she said in her dripping sweet voice.

"Will my answers be tiny as well?" he asked without turning.

"Oh, I should think so," she said, clutching her ever present clipboard to her chest and bustling around the desk. It took Harry a moment to discern that she had stood up at all. She was so short, it didn't make much difference. In fact, she didn't seem to come up much past Viktor's waist. She was probably shorter than Poppet had been.

"Chapter 11. Examples. Read," Viktor said in staccato fashion to the class, and though books opened immediately, few eyes were actually moving over the page. The entire class snuck surreptitious glances toward the front at Viktor and Umbridge facing off.

"Now, I understand you haven't graduated as of yet?" she asked loudly, quill poised over her horribly pink parchment, which matched her cardigan.

"Yes and no," Viktor answered blithely.

"Well, it has to be one or the other. Could you explain?"

"Technically, yes. I haff enough credits that I could claim to be a graduate if I wished. If I had attended Hogwarts, I would be. I decided late last year that I would like to haff N.E.W.T.s in two more subjects, so I am getting them here. Independent study and a bit of tutoring. I did not declare intent to graduate last year, though I could haff. You haff to declare before you are granted graduate status where I last attended school," Viktor explained carefully.

"But you're nineteen," she said. Harry could sense that there was a hint of accusation in the statement. "You've not graduated at nineteen?"

"I turned nineteen this summer. Several things combined explain why I haff not yet graduated at that age. For one thing, I started out behind, a half year late," Viktor said.

Umbridge pounced on the admission with great relish. "Owing to?"

"Family circumstances beyond my control," Viktor answered in a guarded fashion, a tone that suggested the subject was closed to further discussion. Thankfully, Umbridge picked up on it.

"So Dumbledore hired someone who hasn't graduated to be a substitute?" The was a touch of incredulity in Umbridge's voice now, as though she were discussing the hiring of a troll for a babysitting position.

"Seeing as the only subjects I lack N.E.W.T.s in at this point are History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and those are two classes I never substitute for, I do not think it is an issue. The headmaster did not seem to think so either. If you check my marks in the subjects I teach, I am sure you will find them more than satisfactory. Professor Dumbledore found them more than adequate," Viktor said.

"Even a half year behind, you should have been able to catch up, shouldn't you? I mean, you seem like an intelligent enough young man..." Umbridge began, looking up at him. Something in her tone suggested she doubted her own words.

"Compounded circumstances. Most of the time I was attending Durmstrang, I had a job as well. It took me away from campus a great deal," Viktor replied, crossing his arms once more.

"A job? That would be most unusual wouldn't it? A young teenager holding down a job?"

Viktor blushed subtly. "Twelve actually. I was twelve when I became a practice reserve," Viktor said softly.

"Practice reserve, dear?" Umbridge asked as though testing out a foreign phrase she had never heard before on her tongue.

"I became a practice reserve for the Vratsa Vultures Quidditch team when I was twelve," Viktor explained patiently.

"Ah, yes, playing Quidditch," Umbridge said in the tone of someone who is reassuring a small child that they are being a help. "Did that take you away from campus a great deal? Playing Quidditch?"

"They typically do not bring the practices or the matches to you. You haff to go to the stadium. I started playing in matches at fifteen. Some of them tend to take place out of the country. Since I was not allowed to Apparate then, travel took a while." Harry knew Viktor wasn't particularly comfortable reeling off his list of accomplishments. He looked as though he would rather be doing anything than speaking to Umbridge in front of the class. Harry could hardly blame him, modesty or no modesty.

"Playing a sport, though, is that really a full time job? I mean, plenty of students here are on their house teams and they don't fall behind to the point that they don't graduate by at least eighteen," Umbridge said in a condescending manner.

"If you ask Vratsa's owners and Coach Boyar, I assure you they would call it a job, since they had to pay me to get me to show up. My contract looked the same as everyone else's except for the fact that it required my parents to sign as well. I enjoyed it, but I could already play for free on my own house team, and in fact, I did. I hardly think a school Quidditch team, which does not travel, does not rely on a professional coach to set a practice schedule, and plays only a small portion of the number of matches that a professional team plays compares as far as taking your time goes. Then add on my play with the Bulgarian national team, and the time that took. And last year, I participated in two other things that interrupted my studies somewhat. I went to the World Cup with Bulgaria, so that eliminated any tutoring time I might haff had otherwise during the summer, and I participated in the Triwizard Tournament here. While Hogwarts has some wonderful professors, it was a bit hard to follow, since I did not speak English quite as well then. And not all of the courses transferred. Some of the other students in that Durmstrang tournament contingent are still finishing up their educations as well. Just not here," Viktor said, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, if you want to call playing a silly old game a job, I suppose so," Umbridge said dismissively. Several of the students were looking positively scandalized at that remark. Calling Quidditch a 'silly old game' was not the way to win over most of the students. "Nineteen is awfully young to be leading a class, isn't it? You're hardly older than some of the students," she pressed.

"That woman..." Hermione muttered under her breath. Harry could see that her face was reddening.

"What?" Harry whispered.

"She's going to make him out to be too old on the one hand, too young on the other," Hermione whispered back.

"I am a good sight older than the first years, not so much older than the seventh years. Math being what it is, I assume that is true for all the teachers," Viktor replied blandly.

Finding no answer for that remark, Umbridge continued. "Well, back to your English then. You speak English as a second language, hmm?" She was back to addressing Viktor as though he might have trouble understanding the language, or as though he was hard of hearing.

"No," Viktor said plainly.

"No? Well, then where did you get that accent?" Umbridge asked, somewhat surprised.

"I speak English as a third language. Bulgarian is my first, I consider Russian my second language."

"Fluent in English?" Umbridge queried slowly, as though addressing a child again.

"As though she hasn't stood there, listening to him and talking to him!" Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"I admit I am considerably more fluent in Bulgarian and Russian than I am in English, but I would be willing to bet my command of English is at least as proficient as some of its native speakers. I spoke Bulgarian and Russian as a small child. I did not learn English in earnest until I went to school. My parents spoke little English," Viktor replied, raising an eyebrow, as though daring her to remark on that. Umbridge obviously got the message.

"And you went to Durmstrang? Where Karkaroff was headmaster?"

"You know I did. You haff a copy of my credentials. Durmstrang, where Potenko is now headmaster. I got shed of Karkaroff some time back," Viktor answered.

"Teach the Dark Arts there, don't they?" she asked sweetly.

"Used to. I hear they are slowly shifting to a more defense-based curriculum. Not that they ever officially advocated students employ the Dark Arts in anything other than an academic fashion or in a respectable career path. Quite a few Aurors got their start in those classes. Bit hard to decide if you want to be an Auror without knowing something about what you will be facing. I believe that is the philosophy behind Defense Against the Dark Arts classes here," Viktor replied.

"Awfully dangerous, teaching students about the Dark Arts, isn't it?" Umbridge questioned in a low tone, acting almost conspiritorial.

"Oddly enough, I do not recall anyone ever being killed at an event our school hosted while I was there," Viktor replied tartly.

"Tragedy, that Diggory boy dying in that tournament mishap," Umbridge said, sadly shaking her head so that her jowls wobbled and clucking her tongue.

"Tournament mishap. Right," Viktor's voice left no doubt that he was having none of that explanation.

"Pity you're not a native English speaker," she said mostly to herself, scribbling on her parchment.

"Excuse my lack of judgment and foresight for not getting myself born in England. Then I could haff learned English as my native language and attended Hogwarts and we would not be haffing this discussion," Viktor said acidly.

"You're a member of Gryffindor?" she asked, ignoring the glare Viktor leveled at her.

"No." Viktor's voice was dropping lower and lower. Hermione, Harry and Ron knew that generally, the more angry Viktor got, the quieter he got. Harry shifted in his seat, trying to listen so hard it felt as though his ears were stretching.

"But your quarters are there!" Umbridge said loudly, making Harry jump guiltily. Hermione elbowed him subtly.

"I live in quarters in Gryffindor tower. I am not a member of the house, since I am not a fulltime student. The last school house I was part of was Gryndel's house at Durmstrang. The Sorting Hat has never been on my head, therefore I haff not been sorted into a new house. No point really. In a few days, I will haff one N.E.W.T. left to prepare for. I do not attend class with any of the other students. Might as well sort Mrs. Norris." There was some muffled laughter from the front of the room at that remark.

Umbridge seemed not to hear. "Wouldn't that make you a bit partial to Gryffindor?"

"No more partial than Professor Snape is to Slytherin, since he is their head of house. Will you be asking him where his loyalties lie in this class?" Viktor asked lightly.

"I understand your Yule Ball date from last year is a member of Gryffindor," Umbridge asked, and for once, Viktor looked mildly surprised at the question.

"I fail to see how that relates to anything," he said noncommittally.

"Are you not still seeing her? Seems a bit dodgy to me, putting an adult teacher in the same tower with a student he is seeing," Umbridge said, clucking to herself again.

Viktor sighed deeply, then answered. "I am subject to the same rules as the students, in that regard. Students and teachers are both allowed to haff private lives. Students at this school who are seeing one another are often separated by far less space. They may even share common rooms, and haff neighboring dorms. I am not in a student dorm. If I wanted into the Gryffindor common room, I would haff to give the password and enter past the Fat Lady, and even then, I could not get into the dorm. The founders felt that letting males enter the female dorms was in bad form, so they haff made sure it cannot happen. The steps are taken care of. And I cannot Apparate up there, since no one can Apparate or Disapparate on the grounds of Hogwarts. But I am sure you haff read Hogwarts, A History," Viktor added with a sharp downturn of the corners of his mouth. It was the closest Harry had seen him come to outright scowling in weeks.

This answer seemed to please her more than if he had said he slept in the bed next to Hermione, Harry thought to himself. "So your quarters are more isolated then? Secluded? Private? Away from everyone else?"

"On another hall. Which is patrolled regularly, just like all the others. The caretaker, Mr. Filch takes a fairly frequent stroll down my hallway, just as he does every other hallway in the tower. I stopped to chat with him the other night. Teachers patrol," Viktor explained again.

"You patrol the hall sometimes?" Umbridge asked, putting her quill to the corner of her mouth.

Viktor dropped his arms back to his sides and flexed his fingers as though he were itching to get them around Umbridge's nearly non-existent neck. "As a teacher, yes. It is part of my duties."

"I hear you invited her to visit, that you've given her a ring." At these words, the entire class turned to look at Hermione. She shot them such a look that most of them ducked back to their textbooks.

Harry could see that Hermione's cheeks were burning bright red, and she muttered again under her breath, "The nerve...the absolute nerve!" Viktor had flushed as well, and Harry could tell he was struggling not to let it show too badly.

"We visited one another's homes over the summer, before Dumbledore and I ironed out the details of this proposal, yes. And she's given me a book that sits on my bookshelf. Birthday gifts that were exchanged before I started substituting. Since I haff no more bearing on this young woman's final grade than I do on any other student in this class, which is none at all, I resent anything you might be implying. Professor Snape still determines grades at his own discretion. Otherwise I would excuse myself from ever teaching her class. And if you think my personal behavior is in question, you can talk to the headmaster about it instead of hinting at things. I am also fairly well acquainted with several members of Slytherin, since I ate all my meals at the same table while I was here last year. I do not hear you questioning how fairly I grade them when I recommend marks to Professor Snape or when I supervise them," Viktor said evenly.

"And you think you can be impartial?" Umbridge asked incredulously.

"As impartial as any other teacher. I guarantee you every teacher has greater than average affection for some students, and petty grudges against others." The small frown had become an outright scowl now.

"Impartial even with a girl you love?" Umbridge trilled.

Viktor folded his arms across his chest once more and reared back on his heels a bit, glowering at her. "Well, if I really loved her and wanted to be partial, I would be harder on her than anyone else. I would make her work twice as hard as everyone else for the same grade. Luckily, she does that on her own, so I do not haff to. I mean, I would hardly wish to date and possibly marry an uneducated twit eventually, now would I? My little Quidditch hobby might fall through or she might want a career of her own, and I would want her to be able to get whatever job she liked. Worse yet, they might decide professional Quidditch is not a real job one of these days and stop paying for it and she might need the work lest we starve. I might not manage to graduate before then, either. But I suppose I could always get a job with the Ministry," Viktor said, his voice dropping lower on each word. Before Umbridge could respond, the bell rang. "Class dismissed. Please do read those examples, since I doubt any of you did it in class," Viktor called, not taking his eyes off of Umbridge's face. Harry, Ron and Hermione dawdled, taking longer than necessary to gather their books. Harry noticed that by now, even Hermione's ears were a bright red.

"You'll be hearing from my evaluations soon enough," Umbridge twittered happily, then strolled out of the classroom. Hermione stalked to the front of the classroom after everyone else had gone.

"That...that woman! The nerve of her! Implying those things, and in front of the class, too! I mean...honestly! As though you don't speak better English than the most of us do! As if she couldn't hear...for herself..." Hermione spluttered.

"Stop it," Viktor said with a sigh. The scowl didn't budge.

"Why? She acts like having a full time job shouldn't interfere with your studies, and those little hints about Durmstrang! And what she said about us! She just as good as said we were...sneaking..." she began.

"Stop it or I will go after her and choke her with that awful pink cardigan. I am angry enough as it is, without you reminding me. And setting her off any more is going to be like poking a hippogriff with a sharp stick. It is going to get worse. I get the feeling she is not too fond of those of us with less than impeccable bloodlines," Viktor muttered through a clenched jaw, shooting a glare at the empty doorway.

"You mean that's why she brought it up? She found out you're seeing a mudblood?" Hermione spat.

"Oh, that she is just interested in because she can make it sound like Dumbledore is practically letting us live together in her report. It will sound nice and scandalous. She would not care if you were a certified pureblood. You are a female, and that is enough. Not that kind of bloodlines exactly. Well, I do not think so, anyway. She has a small mind, but not quite small enough to hate you for being Muggle-born. But she definitely does not seem fond of half-humans. Kept clucking her tongue over Dumbledore hiring Lupin, when he was a werewolf, and you should haff seen her jump when she heard the rumor that there was a half-giant and a half-veela on staff. Delacour has one thing going for her at least," Viktor added.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"She is going along with the Ministry line on changing the DADA class. Expect it to be all theory soon. Delacour seemed all for it, oddly enough. Funny, you would expect her to be angry when someone is telling her how to do her job. I do not recall Umbridge pointing out her accent. They seemed awfully friendly at that staff meeting we had. Maybe they get along well. Both kind of short on substance. I need to go. I promised I would be at team practice this week. Cannot let my hobby slide," Viktor gave a small rueful smile at last. "See you later," he told them all, and walked out the door.

"How's he doing all that traveling? And how does he manage never to be gone when Snape is?" Ron asked, scratching his head, ruffling his hair.

"Gets on the Firebolt, goes to Hogsmeade, Apparates from there. And he's missed some practices in order to sub for Snape. Luckily, no games missed yet. He's got his exam for History of Magic scheduled this weekend. More Umbridge. Ugh," Hermione said under her breath, and the three of them started walking back to Gryffindor tower.