Past Present

Harry didn't stop running until he had put three floors between himself and Snape's office. Then he leaned against the wall, panting and rubbing his bruised arm. Snape had been right. What he had seen in the pensieve ... James Potter had been every bit as awful as Snape had always told him. He wandered the halls in a daze, his stomach seeming to drag along somewhere around the soles of his sneakers, until he had wasted enough time. By now, the match would be in full swing, and he could only hope that Viktor, Hermione and Ron were all at it with the rest of Gryffindor. Instead, the common room was deserted except for Hermione, Viktor and Ron, all waiting for him to get back from his lesson. Nearly everyone else on the grounds was at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Except the three people he absolutely, positively did not want to talk to right now.

Stepping through the portrait hole, he ducked his head and tried to charge for the staircase to the dorm, but Hermione's voice stopped him. "Harry? Look, have you been having this singing dream?" Harry stood stock still for a moment.

"What?"

"Have you been having this singing dream?" Hermione repeated. Harry forced himself to turn and face Hermione and Viktor in the corner. "Ron has," she added.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said.

She and Viktor exchanged a sidelong glance at one another that reminded him infuriatingly of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, when they were questioning the twins and they protested their doubtful innocence. They didn't believe him. The fact that he was lying hardly softened the realization that they did not trust his word. Hermione stood and planted her hands on her hips. "Harry," she said warningly. "You mumbled something about singing. When you were sleepwalking. I heard you."

"Me too," said Ron.

"Why are you all so nosy about my dream?" Harry snapped peevishly.

"Because it is not just yours," Viktor said quietly, picking at a thread at his knee. "We are all having it."

"What? The entire school? You think the entire school is having the same dream? Not that I've had any dream that's any of your business..." Harry began in a harsh tone. He couldn't say why he was so jealously guarding that dream, but suddenly it seemed important that he deny having it to the last. Ron couldn't possibly be having his dream. Neither could Viktor or Hermione. She only sang for him. Just for him.

"The four of us. More or less, we think. Now, you can either stop outright lying to the three of us, or I can be another Snape. Which will it be, Harry?" Viktor asked softly. Harry could tell Viktor's heart simply wasn't in the threat.

"You wouldn't!" Harry challenged. They couldn't be having his dream. His dream of... her. That voice.

"I do not want to, but if you keep lying to me like that... maybe I haff no choice. If you would just answer," Viktor said sadly, looking up at last. To Harry's surprise, he didn't seem angry at all, just... hurt. Harry squirmed a bit under that gaze, but his arm was throbbing where Snape had grabbed him, his scar throbbed and burned, his head ached, his heart was nearly bursting with the pain of the knowledge that Snape had not been lying about James Potter. He was every bit as arrogant, self-centered and cruel as Snape had made him out to be. And to think that he had been proud when people told him he looked like James... that he was just like him...

"Shut up! You people have no right to be in my head! None of you! Not Voldemort! Not Snape! Not you! I wish you would all go away and leave me alone!" Harry found himself shouting. He was shocked into silence when it was Hermione's loud voice that came crashing back at him, not Ron's or Viktor's.

"Harry, you self-centered, ungrateful, selfish git! Let someone try to help you for once! And to think... him... he's... willing to... risk... for you!" Hermione shouted back, going toe to toe with him, finally spluttering and settling for shoving him hard in the chest before storming up the stairs to the girls dorms. He was caught off balance and off guard, toppling unsteadily onto the chair behind him. What caught him even more off balance was the look on Hermione's face. She had been angry at him, of course, but he was certain that those had also been tears brewing in her eyes. Good riddance, he tried telling himself. I've had enough crying females to last a lifetime already.

"I thought you trusted me," Viktor said, eyes on the staircase, pursing his lips and frowning slightly as though thinking, or weighing something in his mind.

"I do," Harry said, slightly ashamed of himself. "What's gotten into Hermione anyway? Why the waterworks?" he offered, looking at Ron. Ron offered him a halfhearted shrug, as though he couldn't possibly explain it in words. Finally, he jerked his head in Viktor's direction, as though referring Harry back to him.

"Ever wonder why I can see the thestrals?" Viktor asked, seemingly out of the blue, not shifting his eyes. His voice sounded a little strangled.

"Your sister," Harry said dismissively.

"Then why can Hermione and Ron not see them? They were there when Karkaroff died. Closer to him than I was to her when she died. I wasn't even looking at the building when she died," Viktor said flatly, finally turning to look at Harry.

"But... I..." He hadn't considered that Hermione and Ron were no more able to see the thestrals than they had been before being present at Karkaroff's death.

"You have to see death, Harry. They weren't watching Karkaroff. They did not see his eyes go cold. You watched the life go out of Cedric. You saw it in his eyes. You watched him die. Ever wonder who I watched die?" There was an edge of bitterness now.

"The square... there were so many..." One of them. It must be one of them, one he had left out in his descriptions of the scene.

"You are a smart boy, Harry. Put two and two together and come up with four. Cannot haff been in the square. They were all already dead. None of them lived long enough for me to watch them die. It was ten years later, Harry. Hermione knows. Maybe I should not haff told her. Would haff saved her a few weeks of worrying. But then, I did not know I would haff to do it when I told her. Too late now," Viktor said, sounding a little angry and impatient. Almost the way Snape did when he thought a student was being impossibly slow and thick about grasping what he found to be the simplest concept. It alarmed Harry to see Viktor lose patience with him this way. He had expected anger outside of Madam Puddifoot's, but had gotten compassion instead. He had wanted it then, the anger, some excuse to be angry back. Now that he had it, he felt his own anger ebbing away in the face of Viktor's. Harry felt as though his eyes were locked, he could not tear them away.

"Do... what?" Harry stammered.

"I told you Karkaroff knew I was good at memory. Ever wonder how he found out, Harry? Ever wonder how he tested his prize pupils? Ever wonder what he made us do? Surely you were a little curious?" Viktor's voice had gone strangely dead and cold. "Ministry demonstrations. Know what the Ministries used to do with the Death Eaters that would not talk, Harry? Think the Death Eaters were the only ones who tortured people? The Ministry was not much better. You can justify a lot of cruelty in the name of preventing more. Know how rare it is for someone to be a really accomplished Legilimens? Occlumency is one thing. Legilimency, quite another. Did Professor Snape tell you that Legilimency is as much art as anything? That you cannot read thoughts like you do a book, that you always haff to interpret what you see there?"

"Yes," Harry whispered.

"He lied," Viktor said plainly. "Not lied, exactly, but that is not the whole truth. For most people, that is the best they can accomplish. To break in if they are stronger, pick up some random things close to the surface, piece together a puzzle. But I picked up things like that without even trying, Harry. I forced things back onto people without even doing Legilimency. Karkaroff noticed. He always noticed things that might be turned to his advantage. He took me to be tested. I do not think he really expected me to be able to do it right away, that is why he did not bother training me at it first. I do not even know what his name was, but I killed him, Harry. I killed him because I did not know how to do it. I let go." The last was almost a whisper.

"What are you talking about?" Harry forced out.

"Some people can do more. They can do Echomensa. The same person may not even be able to do Legilimency, but most can. Remember what I said about the body remembering? Your mind records everything, even things you do not consciously remember. Performing Echomensa is like turning your mind and body into one of those Muggle tape recorders Harry. It all comes back out, just like you heard it. Veritaserum is all well and good when you ask for names and get them. They caught on, stopped giving their names. Stayed anonymous even with each other. Wore masks. The Ministry had to get creative. Start identifying them by voices alone. Problem is, Echomensa, you take control to do it, you shove the other person aside completely, force them into the background of their own mind. You take over. It is not natural to haff someone in your head. You fight back. With everything in you. Physical and magical. If the caster does not know what they are doing when they try to back out, does not listen, they can leave you a jabbering mess, if not worse. You can rip a person's mind apart, if you do not know what you are doing. Or you can just let go," Viktor said with a spread hand. "It requires hand to hand contact. You lose touch, you lose the link. If the person at the receiving end is not back in control by the time you lose the link, he never comes back. It all just shuts down. He was a Death Eater, Harry. Could not haff been much over thirty, I suppose, but he looked even younger. They just trussed him up like a goose and put him on a cot and turned me loose on him. I do not think they really expected me to get in, much less to get what they wanted out of him. He talked... they talked... the rest of his group... but he also bucked and hit and kicked and screamed and cursed at me. I heard things... He was a full grown man and I was fifteen years old. He broke the leather straps they used on him in about ten minutes. I let go. I had no choice. He was pulling away even if I did not. Trying to get away from me, away from his memories. And I watched his eyes go cold afterwards. I watched it ebb out of him, like the tide going out. I killed him Harry. But what did that matter? They had the information they wanted. The Ministry knew where his friends were, who they were, Karkaroff knew I could do it, and they were going to execute him anyway. No Azkaban for him. Death. See, he killed an Auror that happened to be the brother of the Russian Minister of Magic at the time. No getting off light for him. Who cared if a scrawny kid who had no idea what he was doing let go of him and he died and saved them the trouble of having to execute him? They all went home happy. All they had to do was tell the press that they had executed him. The Minister was happy, he had his revenge and some more people to arrest, the other one got a chance to see something you rarely even read about, and Karkaroff got his bargaining chip. His insurance. And a week later, we had a Care of Magical Creatures class where I found that I no longer had to rely on drawings to know what a thestral looked like. Hard to fake not seeing them, but I did. Thank goodness no one asked me directly, though I think Elena suspected. Heaven knows I did not want to haff to give the real explanation, or even the one you assumed." Viktor was back to the hushed, disgusted tone he had used that night in his quarters with Snape. His shoulders were dropped, limp.

"And Hermione is just now finding this out? It wasn't your fault, if they made you..." Harry squeaked.

"No. I told her during the summer. I felt it only fair to warn her that I had done a lot of things I am not particularly proud of. What she is upset about is the fact that I am going to let Dumbledore do it to me. And I never said it was my fault. I regret it, but I was just doing what I was told. I had no idea then that if you let go, you might as well snap their neck. Probably would haff pulled out too quickly, anyway. I would haff bungled it in any case. He was uncooperative. I would at least have left him... damaged. If I ever had it in me to kill on purpose, that took it out of me, watching him," Viktor replied. "Hagrid's hut, one week from tomorrow night. Ten o'clock. You had better show up, Harry. I spent a lot of weeks convincing Dumbledore to talk to you. Tell you why we are all doing this," Viktor said, sounding somewhat weary. He rose and started toward the portrait hole.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Harry asked, puzzled, "Risking..."

"Because I am tired of people dying. Because I am tired of people dying for ignorance. My ignorance killed that man. Even if he deserved it, I suffered for it. I will not haff someone else dying because of ignorance if I can help it. Learn from mistakes, Harry. Even when they are not yours. They are usually big, ugly lessons, but they are valuable lessons," Viktor said, his jaw firmly set. "And who says I am only doing it for you? I recognize it now. You and Ron get singing. Hermione and I get screeching. Screeching that now reminds me an awful lot of what little I do remember hearing in that maze. That is what you see? A path in the Forbidden Forest? Fog? Warm and wet? Something making noise near the lake?"

"Yes," Harry whispered.

"I would swear it was sirens, if we were all hearing singing," Viktor said, shaking his head.

"I know about Snape. My father," Harry found himself saying in a strangled voice.

"Professor Snape. And why would he tell you? He did not seem too keen to share..." Viktor said, puzzled.

"Never mind. He was... he... I guess I got my own big, ugly lesson, huh? Treat others nicely, you never know when they might be teaching your children. He was awful," Harry whispered.

"Most of us were at fifteen, one way or another. No offense."

"I never thought I could feel sorry for Snape," Harry said glumly.

"Professor Snape."

"And she hated him. Why would she have married him?" Harry asked, thinking of his mother.

"I bet he improved a lot. Women usually do not willingly marry and haff children with someone they hate," Viktor said softly.

"Sure. I'm sure they were both wonderful judges of character, weren't they? They picked Peter Pettigrew as their secret keeper, and we all know how well that turned out! What good did it do them to die?" Harry spat.

"You lived."

"And what good has that done? I've killed Cedric Diggory! Helped give Voldemort his body back! Made everyone miserable! What the hell good did it do?" Harry shrieked.

"Enough! Stop this feeling sorry for yourself! At the very least, we had nine years of peace. Nine years where people could laugh and get married and haff children and not haff to worry about the future quite as much. Nine years where people could pick up the pieces and mourn and heal, if nothing else. Nine years where people haff talked about what heroes your parents were. Does that mean nothing to you?" Viktor seemed a little offended.

"And what practical good have all those stories been?" Harry asked, more calmly. "My parents are fairy tales. Someone else's memories."

"They prompted me to make a better decision. It was the lesson of Lily and James Potter, was it not? Pick your secret keeper very carefully. Does not matter which version, who betrayed them. Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew. Did you not wonder why Karkaroff thought my parents were untouchable? Why he threatened Hermione, not them? He already knew where her parents lived, or he never would haff said it. He never made threats like that which he could not carry out. He would not haff taken a chance that we could get to them first and protect them." Harry felt as though Viktor's eyes were boring into him.

"Why? And what does it have to do with my parents?" Harry said.

"He could not find them. Or Pavlova. Unless I spoke its name. And I was never foolish enough to do that. I told them it was to keep nosy reporters away, Harry. I lied to my own parents. Might be the only convincing lie I haff ever told, maybe because there was a grain of truth to it. It was useful for that as well. And they were afraid enough of the possibility of reporters hounding them about Violeta that they agreed to it," Viktor said plainly.

"You were secret keeper for your parents," Harry breathed, "How long?"

"Since I was twelve. I did not trust anyone else. It was the lesson I learned from hearing about the Potters. Pick a secret keeper who will die with you if they slip. Or at the very least, pick someone so that... if they betray you deliberately, you would want to die. I think if your own son hands you over to someone who wants to kill you, that fits the bill. They trusted, Harry. They just happened to trust the wrong person. Your parents may haff saved my parents. Knowing Karkaroff, he would haff killed them off just to keep me from haffing anywhere else to turn but him. Your parents are more than just fairy tales, Harry. One week from tomorrow night, ten o'clock. Do not bother yelling at me about how little I tell you if you do not show up. I fought for a month to get him to agree to tell you this much. To get him to agree to let you three come and watch. Do not expect me to keep it up if you reject the opportunity," Viktor said.

"Why is it so important? The three of us being there? To you, I mean?" Harry asked.

"Because I would hate to die alone, if I did. I almost did that once, and it was very lonely. At the very least, I would like to go with someone trying to get me to stay. And Alexei is not available."

"But Dumbledore is a great-"

"Still no guarantee," Viktor said, matter-of-factly, before turning on his heel and stepping through the portrait hole. Harry was too stunned to go after him.

"She's just spent the last half hour trying to talk him out of it. Again. I get the feeling they were both rehashing the same old argument," Ron said glumly. "I've never seen two people argue when they were sad at each other instead of mad. He thinks he has to do it for some reason, she wishes he wouldn't anyway. I can't get the straight of it."

"And she's mad at me because he's risking that..." Harry said.

"No. She's mad at you because you don't seem to appreciate it. Because you outright lied. About these dreams," Ron said gently. "Harry, you can get away with a lot of things with Hermione, but outright lying isn't one of them. Especially when Viktor's been getting up all hours of the night to chase you down in the halls after you've set off the alarm he put on the portrait hole and he's been willing to put up with Snape pouncing on him every opportunity and slapping him, and now he's risking someone jabbing around in his head because it might be someone still trying to hurt you. A little gratitude might buy you some goodwill."

"When did you get so smart about girls?" Harry asked.

"I didn't. I just sat here and listened to her say all that to Viktor. I think she was trying to get him to believe he had done quite enough already and back out. Oh, and great timing, this. A week from tomorrow. That will be exactly six weeks before the O.W.L.s."

"I suppose Hermione complained about that interfering with her studying?" Harry said.

"Never mentioned it. I get the feeling she's more worried about other things. Nope. Figured that out on my own in my head. Scary."

"Scary," Harry agreed, though he wasn't quite sure what he was referring to.

The next morning, Harry looked for some opening to apologize to Hermione, but she seemed determined not to make any eye contact with him. Or even acknowledge his existence. She was ignoring him like a champion, in fact. He gathered from Fred and George that though they were the prime suspects in Crabbe's unfortunate trip to the upstairs toilet via the Vanishing Cabinet, no one could prove it. Crabbe's memory was a bit scrambled, and no reliable witness could be found. Umbridge had threatened and grilled them, and even questioned all the ghosts herself as to what they had seen. The Gray Lady seemed to recall having seen Crabbe near the Cabinet, but now, she failed to mention any redheads in the area. Harry suspected Viktor had something to do with that. He had noticed just this morning that he seemed awfully friendly with Nearly Headless Nick, and was, in fact, having a chat with him out in the hall when Harry went into the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry wondered if he was similarly friendly with the rest of the house ghosts as he was with "Sir Nicholas".

He fleetingly thought about the fact that they were lucky Moaning Myrtle had seen nothing. He wasn't sure Viktor could have pulled off changing her testimony after his bluffing her out in the Prefect's Bath. Or maybe he could at that. Just a few weeks ago, Hermione had complained that Myrtle took it by turns to tease her about Viktor and then anxiously question her about what he was doing. "If I didn't know better, I would swear she had a crush on him, she's driving me so mad. Worse than Lavender and Parvati put together after the Ball last year. But I would hate not to go in there a bit. She seems so lonely. She keeps asking why he doesn't swim so much this winter. I told her he was kept pretty busy, and she said 'I bet you do keep him pretty busy' and flew off in a huff back to her stall, wailing to beat the band." Harry chose to keep it to himself what happened in the bath. It probably wouldn't make Hermione feel any more charitable toward Myrtle to hear that she had tried to spy on Viktor in the bath.

Just when Harry thought he could stand Hermione's icy silence no longer, he opened his mouth to beg for forgiveness, he would throw himself on her mercy, apologize for being a selfish git. Instead of hearing his own voice, he heard an ominous "Hem hem," across the table, behind Hermione. The squat figure of Umbridge, clad in her horrid pink cardigan, was stationed behind the empty chair beside her, where Viktor usually sat. "Mr. Fred and George Weasley, I will have you know..."

"Pardon me, but you are in the way of my chair," came Viktor's voice behind her.

"Mr. Krum, I don't know why ..." Umbridge began in a huff, whirling on him. She trailed off when he turned his head and scanned behind him, as though looking for someone else whom she could be addressing. Taking the rather obvious hint, she sighed and began again, "Professor Krum, I don't know why you insist upon eating at a student table when there is a perfectly good staff table right up..."

"Oh, I had some tea up there. Talked to Hagrid, found out a little about our new Divination professor, Firenze. Fascinating, centaurs, but the ones in the Forest, they're not too happy with Hagrid now, I gather," Viktor enthused, and slipped by her and into the empty chair next to Hermione. "Sybil deigned to eat with us this morning. You'll be pleased to hear she's stopped crying and plans to continue living here. Good thing you fired her directly instead of putting her on probation, or Dumbledore would haff been put out. Good thing Dumbledore, Minerva and I caught that and pointed that out during our meeting, hmm? Dumbledore, in fact, is considering rehiring Sybil as the co-teacher of Divination. A new position, I believe. Minerva also tells me Gryffindor will win the Quidditch Cup this year, or she'll eat her hat. I hope so, because she only has the one. Unless she meant the tartan tam. But I agree with her that they should, especially after Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff," here he paused and gave what Harry thought was a subtle wink to him, unless Harry was imagining things. "That took in the oatmeal I had up there, I guess. Oh, and I had a sausage or two at the staff table. By that time, Professor Delacour had gotten enough beauty rest and stumbled down for breakfast, and since I seem to give her a bad case of indigestion these days, I thought I had better move. Besides, the toast and the orange juice taste better over here. Must be something about the relative humidity," Viktor said in a rush, pouring a glass of juice to go with the toast he had been fixing while talking. Umbridge had been going more and more tomato-colored the whole while.

"Yes... yes... good thing you pointed that out... else I would have had to remove Dumbledore ..." Umbridge said dazedly.

"And we would not haff wanted that, now would we, Dolores? Embarrassing for you to not be able to correctly interpret a Ministry decree written in plain English." Viktor seemed almost gleeful about using her first name. Harry noticed, for the first time, that Viktor suddenly seemed to be referring to almost every one of the teachers on a first name basis. A liberty he had not taken before his graduation. When he had mentioned 'Professor Delacour', though, the slightest hint of sarcasm was detectable. "Did you want something from Fred and George? Or did you come over here from the perfectly good staff table for the superior juice and toast? Do not let me interrupt you, either way," Viktor said, biting into his toast.

"Just know that I'll be watching you two. Very closely," Umbridge warned the twins, who were doing their best to look angelic, then gave an exasperated glance at Viktor, who was paying more attention to his toast. She looked like she was having to bite her tongue to keep from saying more.

"Viktor, could you pass the jam?" Fred requested sweetly, and Viktor promptly complied.

"Professor Krum, I find it disturbing that you allow the students to refer to you by your first name," Umbridge sniffed.

"I am not teaching them at the moment. I gave them permission to call me whatever they felt comfortable calling me outside of class. All of them. Lee Jordan will insist on saying 'Vik' instead, but I can live with that. In class, Mr. Krum before, Professor Krum now. You haff no right to tell me what I can request to be addressed by outside of class. Others choose to retain their titles, but I feel a bit silly insisting, since, as you so helpfully pointed out all those months ago, I am not much older than most of the students and I was one until a few weeks ago. Would still be, if not for your, shall we call it a request, that sped up my education. You could call me Viktor, if you like, Dolores," Viktor said with a soft smile. Umbridge turned, if possible, even redder.

"And the butter, Viktor," George added, grinning wickedly. Viktor had no more than passed that when Ginny got a sly grin as well.

"Oh, Viktor, the juice, I can't quite reach it," she said, making no move for it. Viktor reached out with a long arm and nudged the carafe all of three inches over the tablecloth, until it butted against her glass. She nonchalantly poured another glass, then set the carafe back down. Further away than it had been before.

Neville flushed slightly, then piped up, "Viktor, could you possibly take a look at a Potions essay for me later? One paragraph is giving me trouble." Viktor nodded wordlessly in return.

"So Viktor, what's the chances of Hufflepuff making a comeback in the Quidditch matchups," Ron asked, planting his elbows on the table and propping his chin.

"Do not go to sleep at the goal during the match with them, they are still close enough to catch up," Viktor replied, and Harry could swear that he ducked into his juice glass to hide a laugh.

"Viktor, is your match next Wednesday or Thursday?" Hermione said at last. Harry was startled to finally hear her speak this morning.

"Wednesday."

Harry couldn't resist getting in on the act either. "And who will you be playing, Viktor?" Umbridge, by now, was looking apoplectic.

"Quafflepunchers."

"Professor Krum," she muttered, then turned on her heel.

"Pleasant morning, Dolores!" Viktor called after her. "Heaven help me, but it does my heart good to annoy her," he said quietly in the direction of his plate, suppressing a laugh, but not the grin. Harry was reminded of his glee at calling Moaning Myrtle's bluff once more.

"Viktor... Hermione... look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to seem ungrateful. And I'm sorry I... I'm sorry, okay?" Harry said, his cheeks flushing.

"Apology accepted," Hermione replied softly.

"Look, Harry... she is going to be there, Ron, probably, too, so if you want, you can wait for Dumbledore to get back to his office and talk to him there. It is okay if you do not want to come," Viktor said, finishing off his toast. Harry got the distinct feeling he didn't really mean that, but Harry was relieved. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to be there. "I need to go. I haff first years in a few minutes, and I need to get there before they blow anything up," Viktor said in a rush, finishing off the juice as well. Harry was a little shocked when instead of the usual squeeze of her hand, he planted a quick peck on Hermione's cheek before getting up out of the chair and heading off toward the dungeon classroom. He had been gone only a few minutes before the owl post arrived. Harry was a surprised when a large eagle owl settled in front of him, with a package, marked "Harry Potter, Great Hall To Fuel Study For Exams From Snuffles". Harry pocketed the note and the large package of Honeydukes chocolate, feeling quite warm and fuzzy, knowing that at least Sirius was still thinking of him.