Past Present

"A...week? But that's... that's nearly impossible!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I think that was the idea! So forgive me if I do not stop writing while you are here," Viktor said, his dark head still bent over the parchment on the desk and the quill moving steadily along.

"I should go, you need the time to write..." Hermione began, putting her hands on the arms of the chair.

"No, for goodness sake, stick around and talk to me. Or I will be climbing the walls later. Stayed up late last night. Got up in the middle of the night to write on it. Could not sleep anyway for worrying about it. I haff been in here all afternoon and most of the morning writing on this thing. That is why I was not down for lunch. Went and got a sandwich from the kitchen, which was more trouble than it was worth, because I had to spend ten more minutes refusing other things to go with it. And Dobby would hardly let me go when he found out I knew Harry," Viktor said, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"I take it the staff meeting was as much fun as you expected, then?" Hermione asked, leaning back in her armchair once more.

"More. Dumbledore's on probation. We pretty well expected it, but still... Hagrid too. Me, three, if I cannot convince the examiners less than a week from now that I deserve to graduate and hand in a finished thesis that actually makes sense and meets the guidelines I agreed to. She even threatened McGonagall with probation for smarting off to her when she observed her class. Umbridge and Fleur were their usual charming selves," Viktor said bitterly.

"What's got you so peeved at Fleur? Besides the fact that she's wrecking our O.W.L. year?" Hermione said, cocking her head.

"She is toeing the Ministry line. All the way. Agrees with Umbridge on everything. Suddenly believes Harry is a crackpot and Dumbledore is mad at best, dangerously incompetent at worst. But you read the Prophet. Maybe it is a good thing Harry does not," Viktor replied with a sigh.

"They still won't bend? Maybe if we talked to someone other than Dolores Umbridge?"

"No. We say black, they say white. And if anyone starts listening, they start reeling out the... the...what was the word?" Viktor paused and raised his eyes off the parchment.

"Propaganda?"

"Propaganda."

"Surely we have a little credibility..." Hermione trailed off weakly when Viktor's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Credibility! Who would believe us if you listen to half of what the Ministry says about us? According to the Ministry line, Dumbledore is a dotty old man who allowed a dangerous half-giant who never graduated, was expelled, in fact, to remain here as a gamekeeper, then promoted him to professor. Said professor let a hippogriff maul one of the students, the son of a respected Ministry official and patron of St. Mungo's. Look at what you can reel off just for the years Harry has been here! He hired a DADA teacher that ended up dead under mysterious circumstances, and we are saying that Voldemort, who no one had heard from in a decade, was living under Quirrel's turban and snacking on unicorn blood in the forest because he was a might bodiless. Oh, and not only do three first years get involved, but a couple of first years who always thought they were Muggles helped run him off. The Dark Lord! Sure! And a house elf might beat a mountain troll in a wrestling match! But wait, it gets better! To do it, they had to get past guards and traps set by most of the professors in school. Professors who have anywhere from a few years to a few decades of experience! Stop me when I start sounding believable to anyone who does not know you and Harry and Ron and Dumbledore."

Viktor rubbed a hand over his face. "Then the next year, he hires Gilderoy Lockhart, a witless fop who does not know the first thing about defense against dark arts, who is currently mumbling away in St. Mungo's, from what I hear. Who put him there? Ron and his broken wand! Mind you, he was trying to put a memory charm on two of his students at the time, and they were only trying to defend themselves, but all we haff is their word on that. And Voldemort's diary ends up here. Who passed it on? Lucius Malfoy again. Respectable, rich Lucius Malfoy from one of the oldest pureblood lines in Britain! Did I forget to mention it was Malfoy's house elf who disobeyed his master and went to Harry's house and exploded a pudding or two while he was there, to warn Harry not to go back to school because someone was trying to kill him? Oh, and then Harry finds out he's a Parselmouth, when he does not even know what a Parselmouth is! Sure, most wizards trust Parselmouths! You might as well be wearing a sign proclaiming you are a dark wizard! Then there was the little matter of the basilisk loose on school grounds. Hagrid does a stint in Azkaban for it! One of the professors has been to the wizard prison! No matter he was falsely accused! Both times! Does he get a 'Sorry Hagrid. Sorry we broke your wand and expelled you fifty years ago, sorry we sent you to prison'? No! Basilisk stunned a cat and some ghosts and some students, you among them, only the dumbest luck kept anyone from getting killed, and who saves the day when one of the students gets kidnapped and nearly sacrificed by this possessed diary? Harry Potter! Then he tricks Malfoy into setting Dobby free, and now we haff a house elf who wants wages! Most people think that is a scandal. Hell, the elves think it is a scandal! So not only does Dumbledore hire fruity professors, he hires fruity house elves!" Viktor ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Let us look at third year, shall we? He goes and hires a werewolf! A werewolf! Most parents would agree he was a fantastic teacher, he taught you all things that you typically do not get until fifth year, maybe later, but parents haff a tiny problem with the prospect of their children being attacked by one of their professors, preventative potion or no preventative potion! And the Ministry suspects Harry had something to do with Black and Buckbeak escaping! They cannot prove it, but by now they believe he could make the planet reverse course if he wanted to and get away with it! They are willing to believe anything when it comes to Potter, but nothing to do with Voldemort! They can expel a stroppy fifteen-year-old and take his wand on pretty bare evidence, if they could just figure a way to do it without looking like monsters! Easier to intimidate Harry. What are they going to do with Voldemort if he is back? Tell him he cannot graduate and he will never get a job if he does not behave himself and stop being such a naughty boy!?"

Viktor spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Oh, and what about last year? He hires Mad-Eye Moody! Wonderful auror. Legendary, but the punchline to a lot of Ministry jokes these days. Everything is a plot! Dark wizards behind the dustbins and poison in the pancakes! Not that I blame him, I am right there with him at this point! I would not trust anyone further than I could throw them either with half the justification he has. But wait, it was not even Moody! No! It was the Death Eater son of yet another Ministry official that broke out of Azkaban years ago and spent an entire year taking Polyjuice Potion out of his pocket flask and plotting how to kidnap one of the students right out from under Dumbledore's nose. While the real Moody was locked in his own trunk! And while he is here, he throws in a few lessons about the Unforgivable Curses, which at best, makes the Ministry a tad nervous, at worst, gives them fits. My word, the students might be going around torturing one another now! Next they will be striking one another dead over Quidditch games! Making each other put stunned frogs in the teacher desks against their will! The tournament returns after I forget how many years off because of the death toll, so they put in an age restriction. At least that way we cannot complain we did not understand what we were getting into. The kinder, gentler Ministry of today only kills those seventeen and older! Not only does someone get around the age restriction, they get around the fact that there are only supposed to be three champions in the Triwizard Tournament! And who is it that fills the spot? What name comes out of the Goblet of Fire? Potter!"

Viktor shook his head and paused briefly. "And let us not forget that the Ministry knew Karkaroff was a former Death Eater. They took his confession! But Dumbledore did too. Let him into Hogwarts without blinking, all of them. What the hell were they thinking? Rita Skeeter made Harry out to be pitiful orphan or dangerous whack job, depending on the day of the week. She made you out to be a trollop playing both sides against the middle. Oh, and one of the competitors was so pitiful she came in last on every task, even though she had just as much built in favoritism as I did. Her headmistress was a judge too! On the third task, she drops out first, all of about ten feet from the entrance, I torture one of the Hogwarts champions but I did not mean to, so I guess that makes it okay! Imperius curse, you know. Then I get stunned, Potter claims he and Diggory made an unlikely deal to tie and both win the tournament then they supposedly portkey to a cemetery full of Death Eaters who perform a rite with blood from The Boy Who Lived and resurrect Voldemort! Put him in a brand new bleedin' body! We will skip how he got away from a crowd of adult Death Eaters, Cedric dying, sibling wands, seeing and talking to his dead parents, all that, and just cut to where Harry comes staggering back out of the maze dragging a dead body. A dead boy barely of age. Whose father works for the Ministry. And the bit where the idiots at the Ministry take the one and only viable witness outside of Hogwarts staff and students, the one person who could most easily convince the wizard world of the fact that Voldemort is back and has a body and they let a dementor kiss him! That part makes me want to scream! But let Dumbledore complain that Fudge was a fool for letting the dementors suck Crouch's soul out of him after a weak ten minute interrogation, and he is the one being unreasonable!"

Viktor snorted softly. " And what about this year, Hermione? This year is no better! Dumbledore has been removed from the wizard court, he hired the champion that came in dead last for a job that most people are beginning to say is cursed, a class where all you do is 'read ze book' now! Good thing too, since Umbridge would probably say no one can understand her when she lectures because her English is not picture perfect. Hagrid cannot win with Umbridge, because she hates any half breed she thinks might be dangerous. And giants are on her list. McGonagall and the rest of the longtime staff are all just blinded by their loyalty to Dumbledore, according to her. And me! Oh, I am the worst! Foreigner with no diploma and dubious English skills! I speak two whole other languages, if that is not suspicious, I do no know what is! Dumbledore is letting me live in the same tower with my girlfriend, who is a whole three years younger, oh, the scandal! And we visited at home without our parents chained to our ankles twenty-four hours a day! You are in my room now with the door closed, her head would probably explode if she knew that! Never mind that half the students get to do the same thing and our parents trust us! Who cares if half the students in school are shagging in all the empty classrooms, if the two of us spend ten minutes together unattended, I might take advantage! Like anyone would believe Voldemort is back because I do! What credibility, Hermione? Haff not graduated yet, dare to be nineteen, which seems to be too old and too young at the same time, and I am a former student of Durmstrang, which is supposedly Dark Arts capital of the world. Oh, and I play a game for money... heaven forbid we take anyone who does that seriously! Everything can be twisted! If I tell some of the biggest reasons why I believe, it gets worse. Then I am bitter, emotionally and mentally scarred and driven by revenge. And I killed my former Death Eater headmaster, right? Without a wand! Guess where! Hogwarts! And no one quite understands how that worked! And if you tell that bit about the dementor ending up a 'squidgy pile of goo' as Ron called it, Umbridge would probably haff us all committed to St. Mungo's in one of the nice padded rooms! Rita Skeeter might not be the one haffing the field day this time around, but someone would! Fudge would see to it. Fudge controls the press. I hate to say it, but until something undeniable happens, Dumbledore and any friends he has are pretty well forced underground," Viktor finished up, gritting his teeth.

"Well... when you say it like that..." Hermione began uncertainly.

"Say it however you like, we all look like a pack of kooks against the Ministry. Dangerous kooks, yet," Viktor sighed.

"Do you realize that is more words than I usually get out of you in a week?" Hermione said, smiling in spite of herself.

"Do not say the word 'week'. Reminds me of Umbridge and her fine ultimatums," he replied sarcastically.

"You are in a towering temper. But no wonder you're grouchy if you didn't sleep," Hermione said calmly.

"Az se izviniavam. I apologize. Sorry. I do not mean to take it out on you. Either that or kick the dogs, I suppose," Viktor said softly.

"Nothing worse than what I've done to you. Going on about O.W.L.s and such. I'll gladly sacrifice my ears to save poor Ivan and Natasha from the boot. Nervous about the practical exam?"

"Not really. Between you and Harry and Ron, I ought to be able to take it. I haff all the basics down. Protego, Impedimenta, stunning, all the fun stuff, Anti-Disapparation Jinx, even, just for laughs. Dumbledore threw that one in. Boggarts also included. And I could probably bring up some curses and hexes and countercurses and defensive charms and jinxes in this essay that would haff the person who reviews it running to the bookshelves. A corporeal Patronus is supposed to be worth extra. Speaking of which, how is your otter shaping up?" he asked, picking up the quill and returning to the essay.

"Lovely. Just lovely, just as solid as the hawk and stag these days. Oh! I need to go," Hermione said abruptly as she caught the time.

"Do not let me run you off. I am all out of steam by now."

"Not you. Arithmancy and Runes waiting for me. Don't stop writing on my account," Hermione said lightly, walking over to the desk and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Look, I will pass up sleep, but not that," Viktor said somberly, laying down the quill and putting a finger to his lip. She leaned over slightly and kissed him softly on the mouth, putting a hand to his cheek.

"Get some sleep. You have big black circles under your eyes."

"Had bigger ones the first time you saw me up close," he said, a smile curling up one corner of his mouth.

"More like around your eyes. And you were dripping blood everywhere too. You were a terrible mess. But you clean up pretty well, I admit," she laughed.

"Go on then. Cannot haff you doing poorly on your O.W.L.s. You might haff to support me, remember? Sorry for snapping your head off."

"You didn't snap my head off. Problem is, you're right," Hermione said, dropping her hand and turning to walk to the door. She was halfway there when Viktor's voice stopped her.

"Hermione?"

"What?"

"Snape is working on a Paralyzing Potion. In small doses, you are supposed to still be able to talk. Takes four months to mature. Dumbledore is willing to wait that long if nothing happens that warrants worry. And Snape is going to keep trying. He gets some things, just not that. He is convinced I like making a fool of him. Blocking him. He keeps trying to surprise me."

"Doesn't make it completely safe, though, does it? The potion?" she asked, not turning.

"Safer. Dumbledore still has to know what he is doing," he admitted.

"I wish you wouldn't agree to it at all. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Spite dobre. Sleep pleasantly."