Past Present

The day of the match dawned cold and crisp, but sunny. It was pleasant enough in the midday sun in the box. Much to Percy's relief, Fred and George had refrained from decking out in shamrocks and green head to toe. Of course, their affection for Viktor had only won out by a bare inch over the temptation to assault Percy's sense of decency. Harry thought Mrs. Weasley's threatening might have been a deciding factor as well. All the Weasley family, even Mrs. Weasley was perched in the box with them this time. Viktor spent several minutes secluded in the corner with the current headmaster of Durmstrang, their deep low voices nothing but an indistinguishable murmur from where Harry was sitting. Curiously, Viktor had come to the stadium already wearing his uniform and equipment, and he hadn't even been to the locker room, instead heading for the box and Potenko as soon as they had arrived, more than an hour before the match was scheduled to begin. He wondered what they could be talking about, both looking so serious. After a bit, he suspected it was all in Russian in any case.

"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" called a clear female voice with a Bulgarian accent. The three of them turned to see Elena and Alexei standing beside their row of chairs, waving. "Vhere is... never mind..." Elena added, beaming, heading for the corner that Potenko had just come from, practically hurling herself around Viktor's neck.

"Oh...oh, I think you can let go. While my neck is still on," Viktor said laughing, prying her arms off. "If I had known getting away from you would make me like you so much, I would haff gone away a long time ago! You know, I haff not been nagged nearly as much the last few months."

"I need to nag Hermione to nag you then! Goot to see you," she said, stepping back from him. "You do not know how goot it is to see you," Elena repeated in a low voice.

"I haff an idea. I missed you two something awful. What on earth did you threaten him with to make him pass so easily? Still tolerating this menace?" Viktor said, pointing to Alexei, before they embraced and pounded one another on the back.

"Viktor! I need to talk to you..." Alexei began, steering him further back into the corner, where their voices dropped into droning noise, and Harry could hear no more of the conversation, no matter how much he strained. Elena and Alexei did not return to their seats until Viktor accompanied them back and gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. Before leaving, he turned to Fred and George.

"Still willing to bet Lynch cannot be fooled?" Viktor asked lightly, tossing his scarlet cloak back off his shoulder.

"Sure, why not? Can't see how we can lose. He can't be that thick, can he?" George said, grinning.

"He might not be, but I bet I can still do it, regardless of how bullheaded he might be. Someone gave me an idea about what might work as well as ploughing Lynch," Viktor said with a subtle smile, then left to warm up.

"Seriously, Lynch can't be that thick, can he? I mean, hitting the ground twice in the Cup was bad enough," Ron echoed.

"Lots of things he could run into besides the ground, anyway," Hermione replied mysteriously, and no matter how much Ron and Harry prodded or pleaded, she would not elaborate.

"I do not know vhether to compliment you on taking such goot care of him or ask if he is taking goot care of you so I can give him the business if he is not," Elena said to Hermione, laying a slender white hand on her forearm. "That vicked boy is up to no goot, I tell you. I almost feel sorry for Lynch."

"No need for a lecture. What makes you say he's up to something?" Hermione replied.

"Because that was the exact same vicked grin he used to get vhen he and Alexei vere planning on doing something they had no business doing. Like going svimming at midnight in dead of vinter. Professors ought to haff been able to catch them before they ever snuck out every time. If Viktor vas not glaring a hole through valls, they vere up to no goot. No goot trying to go by Alexei, he alvays look like he is up to something. Because he alvays vas," Elena explained, turning to the other side and giving Alexei's hand a squeeze.

"You act as though ve vere alvays up to no goot," Alexei said defensively.

"Often enough for my taste. Is a vonder you two did not get expelled or kill yourselves anyvay," she chided gently.

"Now, Viktor pretty much behaved himself. I vas the vicked vone. He kept my neck off the chopping block more times than I talked him into nonsense. Although, the midnight swimming vas almost alvays his idea. And he did haff that look, did he not? Now I feel sorry for Lynch," Alexei said.

"I vas just telling Viktor that Poppet wrote us earlier today. She apparently ploughed Konrad but goot in the first match between them. Her letter probably has not gotten to Viktor yet. Pushkin I think is seeing the error of his vays in not listening to Viktor right avay about letting her try out," Elena said with a grin.

Soon, the announcer had introduced the teams, and the players took to the pitch. The lineups were identical to the World Cup game, and Connolly, Ryan, Troy, Mullet, Moran, Quigley and Lynch were on the field for Ireland. While Troy, Mullet and Moran were still the seamless team they had been at the Cup final, the Bulgarian chasers were matching them this time play for play. Soon the score was tied at ninety points each, and though Viktor had feinted a couple of times early on, Lynch always held back far behind, reluctant to be ploughed again, and the crowd, including some wearing green, jeered him mercilessly when he was at his most hesitant. If he had seen the snitch, Viktor could have easily beaten Lynch to it, the way he was holding off. Watching through his omnioculars, Harry caught the sharp jerk of the chin that passed between Viktor and Ivanova as Viktor and Lynch hovered near the Bulgarian goal beside the mass of chasers and beaters. Then Levski had the Quaffle and began streaking toward the other end, all the chasers and beaters in hot pursuit.

When Ivanova had passed midfield, Viktor suddenly flattened against his broom and rocketed off in her wake, soon reaching top speed, closing the distance between them rapidly. Lynch started and headed off after Viktor, convinced he must be going after the snitch, rather than toward a meeting with the pitch. With the jump she had on the two seekers, Ivanova had already reached the other end of the field, and she hovered below the mass of players in front of the goal, cloak billowing behind in the wind, turned side on to Viktor and the approaching Lynch.

"He's going to hit her..." Ron began.

"No, he's going to win his bet...bullfighting..." Harry interrupted, suddenly understanding what Viktor was doing. At the last moment, Ivanova flew off at full steam, her cloak still smacking Viktor in the face as they passed, then Viktor spiraled off to his left, passing so close to the goal post that his own cloak was whipped back by the pole. Harry could have sworn that his sleeve grazed it. Lynch was unable to change direction quickly enough by the time he realized he was headed for the post, and it clipped him full in the shoulder and leg, knocking him off his broom like the loser in a jousting tournament. Mediwizards rushed the field and began plying Lynch with cups of potions, during which time Viktor circled the field and looked for the snitch undisturbed. Lynch had barely gotten his wobble straightened out after remounting his broom when Viktor caught the snitch at midfield, giving Bulgaria a 160 point advantage.

"Aw nuts," Fred muttered.

"I think we owe Viktor a favor," George said.