Past Present

The Occlumency lessons with Snape continued to be just as horrid as Harry had imagined, and possibly even worse than he could have imagined. He was more and more glad for the days when he walked into Potions to find Viktor at the front, rather than Snape glaring at him. The prospect of the O.W.L.s seemed like a distant nightmare, looming far off in the future, though Hermione or one of the professors seemed to bring them up almost daily. The sick feeling he had after his disastrous date with Cho had faded a bit, and when he saw her in the hallways, his stomach did only a weak wobble, now. Try as he might, he couldn't get Viktor to slip and tell him about what he had seen in Snape's memories. The curiosity was eating him up. And the pensieve that Snape dropped some of his thoughts into before each Occlumency lesson was looking more and more tempting.

He had already tried begging, pleading, cajoling, surprise tactics and direct questioning with Viktor. It all ended up the same. A polite "It is not my place to tell," and that stony expression that meant the matter was closed. Viktor was just as infuriatingly uncooperative about talking as Hermione had been the previous year about her Yule Ball partner. They made a good couple that way, Harry thought ruefully. They could both work for MI6.

Harry was tired. He had spent the night tossing and turning, fighting off a feeling of vague unease, then a dream of wild, uncontrolled joy which was strangely at odds with his own foul mood. His scar had felt on fire, and he was almost sure it wasn't just a dream. Hermione and Ron had asked him point blank why he was so pale and wan this morning, and he had told them, even though it earned him a lecture from Hermione about how he should practice his Occlumency more. Harry picked at his eggs disconsolately, thinking about his upcoming lesson this evening, shifting the eggs around the plate, not really eating them. Instead, he watched the rather more busy than usual comings and goings at the staff table, as professors went off together in various groups, stringing back at irregular intervals, gathering up others and heading back into the halls. After about twenty minutes of the front table looking more like Grand Central Station, Viktor came back in from the hall and walked over to the Gryffindor table, and came to a stop between Fred and George. "Look, you two would not happen to know what happened to Crabbe, by any chance?" he asked casually, trying not to look at them directly.

"Heard earlier he might've sort of vanished," Fred said, snickering.

"No clue where he's gone, mate. Could be anywhere. And I'm hurt that you automatically suspect us," George added innocently.

Viktor heaved a sigh. "With good reason, I think. And why exactly could he be anywhere? The Gray Lady seems to think he was last seen on the first floor near a certain cabinet with a couple of people with decidedly red hair. I do not want to know if you did it, do not tell me if you did, but at least give me a hint what happened to him so Snape can be pacified. He is all ready to dismantle the castle."

"He met with a tiny accident. Tripped a bit," Fred replied airily.

"And sort of fell headfirst into the Vanishing Cabinet," George said.

"Did he haff help getting into this Vanishing Cabinet? And how did you get away from goon number two and Malfoy? Wait, never mind, do not tell me. Just tell me, did he get a boost?" Viktor asked with a raised brow, looking fixedly at Hermione instead.

"Just a smidgen of one. Not our fault he's that clumsy. Never would have tripped if he didn't have such a big mouth. He kept saying Hagrid was getting the sack and laughing about it. Trelawney, he says she's getting the boot today, and Hagrid's next," Fred said indignantly.

"I only gave him a bit of a shove and Fred sort of put out an ankle for him, and he 'timbered' right into the cabinet. It wasn't really on purpose," George added.

"Nothing for it but to wait until he turns up, then," Viktor said with a shrug.

"Well, you can't go telling them where he went without telling where you heard," Hermione said sensibly.

"Suppose I can suggest it as a possibility. Maybe he went in the Vanishing Cabinet. Bet he tripped," Viktor said in an exasperated voice.

"What about ze Vanishing Cabinet?" came Fleur's voice. None of them had seen her come up behind Viktor.

"There is a Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor. He went in there. The Gray Lady says she saw him near there. Makes as much sense as anything. Only logical explanation," Viktor repeated.

"And why would 'e do such a thing?" Fleur said in an accusatory tone, folding her arms over her chest and eyeing Fred and George suspiciously.

"How should I know? 'E is not exactly ze brightest in ze pack, now ees 'e?" Viktor mocked, shifting into Fleur's accent. "Got lost and mistook it for the library door in all likelihood. He rarely sees that up close," Viktor said in a sour tone.

"Not very concerned about ze students, are we?" Fleur asked, tossing her hair.

"Must be Snape rubbing off on me," Viktor retorted.

"Oh, I forgot. You only are concerning yourself with certain of ze students. Ze poor workman blames 'is tools, ze poor teacher blames 'is students," Fleur sniffed, shifting her gaze from Harry to Ron to Hermione, and then resting on the twins for a moment..

"Funny, I thought poor teachers, zey told zeir students to just read ze book. Heaven forbid they actually learn how to do something. I can see it now, your top students will become famous Aurors... the first ones in history to haff to tell their opponents, 'Could you 'ang on a moment, I just 'aff to look up zis section on defensive charms and quote you ze theory be'ind it' or 'It would be ever so 'elpful if you would refrain from sucking my soul out for a minute, Monsieur Dementor, I seem to 'ave misplaced my bookmark'! Or do you think Dolores Umbridge can drown anything nastier than a grindylow in her educational decrees and paperwork? Or maybe she can threaten them with letting Filch horsewhip them? Oh, pardon me, you probably did not understand me, what with my impenetrable accent and all. I meant 'orzewheep zem," Viktor shot back, glowering at her. Hermione very nearly coughed up her orange juice and Ron smothered a giggle behind his napkin.

"Blind," Fleur hissed under her breath. "Blinded by love and sentiment," Fleur spat. "It is just a matter of time before ze old madman gets put out, and that great stammering oaf as well. Maybe you too. You two Weasleys 'ad zomething to do with zis, I know! And you are covering up for zem! Troublemakers! I knew I should 'ave questioned the ghosts myself, not let you volunteer for it! We will never get ze truth out of zem now! And you get out your biggest blinders for 'Arry Potter! Must protect 'Arry Potter, even if it means at ze cost of everyone else! Great, untouchable 'Arry Potter! All of us must throw ourselves in front of the 'ogwarts Express if it means saving 'Arry Potter from any discomfort! Give your blood for 'Arry Potter, because dotty old Dumbledore says so! Paranoid, the lot of you," Fleur snarled, reaching up and poking a finger into Viktor's chest for emphasis. Harry, who had, up until this point, been keeping a fairly straight face, very nearly lost control when Viktor leveled a narrow-eyed look at her that made her snatch her finger back as though it had been burned.

Just then the morning owl post arrived, various owls landing on the tables here and there with letters and packages. As it did every morning, the delivery owl dropped off Hermione's Daily Prophet, she tucked the fee into a pouch on its leg, and took the paper. She opened it up and began skimming the front page. Harry, for his part, found the faceoff far more interesting. "Die for 'Arry Potter, zen! Die for 'im!" Fleur said, and Harry went cold. Her face contorted into a look of absolute fury as she said, "Fawn over 'er zen! Ruin yourself! See if I care! Waste your time fawning over zat bushy haired leetle ..."

The look that Viktor had worn that night with Snape made a reappearance, and Hermione had already blanched and reached up and tugged at Viktor's wrist when Fleur finished the first sentence, saying in an urgent tone, "Viktor..." Harry suspected Viktor might want to bulldoze Fleur up against something and threaten to put her teeth out the back of her head. Instead he interrupted her before she could finish.

"Shut up, you stupid tart," Viktor said coldly. Hermione tugged that much harder, as though she were working a bell pull. Viktor stood there as though he hadn't noticed.

"You will be sorry you ever said zat," Fleur replied, narrowing her eyes.

"Why? Going to run and tattle on me to Umbridge?" Viktor asked, curling his lip as though the name itself was bitter.

"You and your filthy ..." Fleur muttered, glaring at Hermione, but Viktor cut her off again, Hermione yanking at his wrist and repeating his name the whole while.

"Take that attitude somewhere that someone still gives a damn," he snarled, "Or better yet, shove it up your..."

"Viktor...for God's sake, look at this," Hermione pleaded, shoving the paper over toward him. Viktor finally turned, took one look at her face and snatched the paper. Suddenly, he went nearly as pale as Hermione.

"Paranoid, eh?" he said softly. "I suppose this is our imagination?" Viktor added, holding the paper up in front of Fleur. Her eyes went wide, then she flushed. "Your precious Ministry confirms it." Fleur glared at him once more, then turned on her heel and stalked off. "I need to go talk to Snape, then Dumbledore. Assure him Crabbe will show up sooner or later, then break this to Dumbledore, if he does not already know, though I imagine he does. Probably did before the Prophet," Viktor said, tossing down the paper and striding off between the tables at a fast walk.

Harry looked at Hermione, puzzled. "Well, now I suppose you know what made him so happy," Hermione said flatly. Harry turned to the paper on the table. It had fallen so that all he could see was the headline. MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN. It was the talk of the halls everywhere Harry went all day. Twelve Death Eaters, on the loose. It was all he could think about, until his Occlumency lesson with Snape. When they had come and fetched Snape, to get Crabbe out of the toilet upstairs, Harry could not keep himself away from the pensieve. He would later wish he could have, and Snape catching him at it was only a small portion of he reason why.