Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Characters:
Hermione Granger Viktor Krum
Genres:
General Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 06/09/2003
Updated: 11/20/2003
Words: 224,686
Chapters: 100
Hits: 71,003

Past Present

Miss Yetigoosecreature

Story Summary:
Hermione, Harry, and Ron visit Viktor Krum in Bulgaria and discover there's a lot more to Viktor's past than they could have imagined.

Chapter 82

Chapter Summary:
One of the nagging questions is answered, at least for one person. And Harry finds that his warning bells are still working and some of his suspicions are well founded. Paying attention to detail can be very important...
Posted:
09/08/2003
Hits:
615

"Ready? Come on Ron, you're dawdling. Viktor's already out there on the lawn, I saw him out the window. Harry's obviously not coming," Hermione said anxiously.

"I thought maybe he would change his mind," Ron said from the portrait hole. "I mean, I saw Viktor with him downstairs, earlier, outside the kitchen. I figured he would have twisted his arm a little by now. Guilt-tripped him into it."

"Well, I don't think he has. And we don't guilt-trip people into things," Hermione said firmly. Ron opened his mouth to protest that Hermione wasn't above laying on the guilt, then thought better of it. "Close the portrait hole before the Fat Lady gives us what for," Hermione said calmly. She certainly sounded more calm than she felt. The lawn seemed almost as bright as at was during midday, what with the large, pale moon in the cloudless sky and the light from it spilling over everything.

"Couldn't talk him into it earlier, eh?" Ron asked Viktor when they joined him.

"Did not try. Do not suppose he is ready," Viktor said simply, giving Ron a curious look.

"We've read every book in the library with anything about magical beasts in it at all, and we're still stuck on what's making that bloody screeching," Hermione complained as they walked down to Hagrid's cabin.

"I keep telling her it is probably Umbridge. No one I haff ever met could screech half so well when she is mad," Viktor said softly, "You should haff heard her at the staff meeting when we all started pointing out to her that her darling Cornelius Fudge forgot to make any provision for firings, only probations, when she canned Trelawney." He dropped into a nasally whine, "'What do you meeeeeean there is nothing in there about firing?', 'Do not tell me my own job, Minerva,', and 'There is something going on here that the Ministry will figure out! We will find out what you all are playing at! Something highly suspicious is going on here at Hogwarts and the Ministry will squash it!'. I thought I would die when Snape muttered, 'Probably referring to us trying to educate the students,' under his breath. And I used to think team meetings were bad," Viktor lamented, shaking his head. "Where were all those Ministry suspicions last year? When we had a Polyjuiced imposter running amok?"

"I offered to get you a pair of earplugs. Silencio Umbridge," Hermione teased. Viktor pulled up short ten feet from the cabin door.

His eyes grew wide and he started talking to himself, as though working out a logic problem aloud. "Earplugs! Sirens! Earplugs! Not a beast! Why it is in none of the books... hearing it based on how we react when we are awake... why did I not think of it, that there is a partial one right here? Why did you say 'earlier'?" he asked Ron in an urgent tone.

"Earlier. Harry snuck off to the kitchen to get away from us all, and I thought I saw you corner him in the hall outside. Maybe not, then," he added hastily, seeing Viktor's expression. Viktor's eyes widened, he ran a thoughtful hand across his chest and robe, then reached up and rubbed a strand of his hair between his fingertips, moving his lips as though figuring aloud again.

"Go on down to Hagrid's, tell them I will be there in a few minutes, I haff to check on something. No, wait, scratch that. Tell them to call out everyone to look for Harry. And me. Tell them if they find either one of us and we act odd, stun first, ask questions later. Both of us! But especially me! Actually, just stun us both on sight!" Viktor called back over his shoulder, running toward the castle.

"What was that all about?" Hermione said to Ron.

"You've got me. That's just like you last year with Rita Skeeter. Running off after you figured out she was an Animagus without telling us. Now you see why that's so annoying when you do it? I mean, it would take either one of you all of ten extra seconds to tell us what's going on, but do you? Noooo..."

"Ron! Cabin!" Hermione scolded, snatching his sleeve and tugging him toward the door.

The kitchen. The kitchen would be as good a place as any to hide out. Hermione and Viktor had been in the library most of the day again. Down there, maybe they wouldn't look for him down there and he wouldn't even have to refuse to come. He didn't want that... that look again, the one that Viktor and Hermione had been giving him for the last solid week. That "be sensible, this is what you've been begging for the entire time you've been here, answers, and now you're running away from it" look. That disappointed look. At least Ron wasn't doing that. Not that he wasn't pressuring in his own subtle way, either. Ron had been following him about most of the day, and even now, down the hall, he was peeking around the corner, to see where Harry was going before heading back to the common room. Hermione, at least, was giving him some space to make his decision.

"We need to talk." Viktor's voice. Behind him.

"I was just going to the kitchen. Hot chocolate. It's chilly tonight," Harry defended himself lamely, without turning.

"We will talk in the kitchen, then," Viktor replied, coming up beside him. Harry waited for Viktor to open the door, but Viktor made no move. "Go on, open the door," Viktor said impatiently, nodding at the portrait. Harry tickled the pear, which turned into a knob, and opened the door. Inside, Dobby made a beeline straight for them.

"Harry Potter! What can Dobby do for Harry Potter and his friend?" the diminutive house-elf cried, wrapping himself around Harry's legs. "What will Harry Potter be wanting?"

"Hot chocolate, please, Dobby," Harry muttered.

"Coffee," Viktor said shortly. Harry was rather surprised, since Hermione had told him that Dobby's coffee left something to be desired. In fact, he and Hermione had both taken to avoiding Dobby's coffee like the plague since Viktor had tried it the first time. It was one of the reasons Viktor had returned from one of his trips with the small samovar for his quarters and usually stuck with the tea from the kitchen.

They sat together in silence for some time, Viktor taking only a small sip of the coffee, then making a face and setting it aside. "You can hardly be surprised, you said it was awful before," Harry whispered across the table. "Oh, and that's Winky over there, asleep in front of the fireplace."

"Winky?"

"Yeah, you remember, the house-elf Hermione didn't tell you about?"

"Oh," Viktor said dismissively. "I want to talk to you in private, really. Not in here with all these elves," he added, looking around with almost the same expression of distaste with which he had regarded the coffee. Funny, seeing him this morning in the hall, Harry would have sworn that the foul mood from the game had faded. Viktor wasn't one to pout over unsatisfactory games for too long these days, since there was always another one just around the corner. And he usually didn't take it out on others in any case. "Come for a walk with me." Harry only nodded in reply. Better to say 'no' once and for all and forget it, no matter what look he got in return. He just didn't think he could stand watching.

They ambled along in silence for some time, until they had reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Cold? You? I mean, it's not forty below out here," Harry asked curiously, pointing to the cloak Viktor was clutching around his shoulders, and especially over his bare forearms. He had been in shorter sleeves most of the winter, even at its coldest. It was still rare to see Viktor in long sleeves.

"A bit. You have the note you got from Snuffles still?" Viktor asked abruptly, stepping in front of Harry, their toes nearly touching, leaning over him.

"Sure. I've even got it in my pocket right now. Figured someone would be asking for it soon enough," Harry replied, fishing out the crumpled parchment between his fingers. He shook off the odd feeling nagging at the back of his head. Maybe Viktor was getting ill. That would explain the short manner, the chill and the cloak being pulled so tight.

"Give it to me," Viktor said, reaching out from between the folds of his cloak with his bare white forearm almost glowing in the bright moonlight. For a moment, Harry couldn't figure out why the alarm bells were ringing in his head, warning, warning, warning, something's not right. And then it dawned on him, causing him to step back a small distance.

"Your arm. Did you go see Madam Pomfrey after all? That was a pretty nasty bruise," Harry asked as evenly as possible. Calm. Be calm. You're probably overreacting. It was that arm, wasn't it? Wait. Snuffles. He said Snuffles. But Hermione said he didn't know about that name. I never told him. Hagrid, would he have mentioned it in the note to Viktor? Oh... oh... remember to breathe...

"Of course," Viktor said flatly, not moving his outstretched hand. Harry's eyes flicked over the collar of his robes, the top of the cloak. No telling from that, the locket was usually tucked in out of sight anyway. Harry gripped his wand tightly in his pocket with his right hand, trying to force himself to relax. Viktor's words from yesterday kept echoing in his head. Be suspicious as hell, Harry, be suspicious as hell. Since when would Viktor go running to a mediwitch for a bruise, no matter how big, purple, and sore it was?

"What are you going to do with the note? Just curious," Harry asked, taking another small step back, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Dumbledore wants it," Viktor said, narrowing his eyes.

"Why not wait and have me give it to him tonight, then?" Harry said, trying to keep his voice light, edging back once more and starting to ease the wand back out of his pocket, hopefully hidden among the folds of his robes and inside his cloak.

"Why are you asking so many foolish questions? Give it to me. Trust me," Viktor said. A quiet rustle of movement beneath Viktor's cloak gave Harry the sinking feeling that Viktor's wand was also out.

The sirens in his head whooped all the louder. "Not what you were saying yesterday. You all but told me to not trust anyone. I'll give you this piece of parchment, if you can answer me one question. That, or show me the one thing you hardly ever take off," Harry forced out of his dry mouth. "What do you call Hermione, what does it mean, and where did you get it?"

"What foolishness is this? Riddles and questions about pet names? Silly little boy. Give me the parchment, Harry." There was an edge of danger to the voice now.

"If it's just a foolish question, then you ought to be able to answer it. Answer even one piece of it, and I'll let you have it. What do you sometimes call Hermione? What does it mean? Where did you pick it up?" Harry insisted, his voice quavering. The wand came out so fast that Harry hardly had time to think "Expelliarmus!", much less say it. Both of their voices overlapped, echoed over one another, and two wands went flying off into the darkness of the trees. Harry could only see enough to tell that it was almost certainly not the sturdy hornbeam and dragon heartstring by Gregorovitch. He had seen that wand enough times to identify it as readily as his own. That wasn't Viktor's wand. The alarm bells were claxons now. For a moment, they both froze, considering what to do. Harry scouted around for some means of escape. The wide open lawn was brightly lit and inviting, but there was no way he could easily outrun Viktor's long legs in the open, no matter who had them at the moment. Turning and sprinting off into the dense trees, Harry looked for the narrowest possible openings, ones he could barely squeeze through, in hopes of losing his pursuer, who always seemed to be right behind. He had only been running a few moments when he heard Hagrid's first call of "Harry?" echoing from somewhere in the trees.

Harry tried to head for the voice in the dark, but the forest sounds and thick trees made it impossible to track down. No other voices presented themselves, and Hagrid's seemed to be getting farther and farther away. No one but Hagrid would dare make that much noise in the Forbidden Forest. Harry was panting so hard, it hardly registered when the arrow twanged into the tree trunk he was attempting to squeeze past into a small clearing.

"Who are you human?" growled a voice nearby, and a pair of strong arms snatched him up and whirled him helplessly around. The world wobbled crazily for a moment, then righted itself, and he could make out the forms of ten or so centaurs, their bows raised and loaded.

"A student... please..." Harry panted.

"We do not attack foals, Ronan," one of the centaurs said calmly.

"This one is not so young. Nearing manhood he is," Ronan argued. "Magorian, if we continue to let these humans invade our forest ..." but Ronan was interrupted by footsteps and a voice.

"But he is not a man. Still a boy. Please forgive him the trespass. I am sure he did it only because he had no choice and through ignorance."

Harry turned his head to see Viktor standing at the edge of the clearing. Harry recognized Bane as the centaur with his drawn bow pointed directly at Viktor's face, no more than six inches away. "And why are you trespassing in our forest, human? You cannot hope to pass for a foal," Bane prompted.

"Only because I was looking for him. He is in my charge, I am responsible for his welfare. Even in the forest. I apologize for the trespass into your woods. I meant no disrespect," Viktor said softly. Harry had been swung around so violently when he had been seized, he had no hope of telling which direction he had come from. He couldn't tell if the figure he was looking at had followed or come from another direction entirely. Harry calculated his options. He wasn't holding a wand, but that told Harry nothing, Viktor often didn't draw his wand until it was absolutely necessary. And waving a wand at centaurs was no way to make friends, even under the best of circumstances. It sure wouldn't be advisable when one was pointing an arrow at your face. In the dim light of the clearing, Harry could not tell much about his cloak or robe at this distance. What had he been wearing in the kitchen? Harry couldn't remember the color of the robe. It was a safe bet to say "scarlet" but that hardly narrowed it down any. Most of his robes were some shade of scarlet. Gray cloaks were a dime a dozen, too. But at the moment, imposter or no, Viktor seemed intent on keeping him from being torn to shreds by the centaurs, so he would play along. Friend for now, at least if he keeps me from getting a hoof upside the head.

"And what would you know about respect for our ways?" Bane growled. "You think because the traitor Firenze is at the school, you know all about us?"

"No. I do not fool myself that I know much about you at all. But I do know that centaurs are a proud and ancient people. They do not serve, nor do they stand for insults. Neither do they take much interest in wizarding ways or events, or humans at all. Not that they should. Wizards haff not been too respectful of centaurs either. I would say we are mutually ignorant of one another, for the most part. Wizards do not bother to find out much about centaurs and their wisdom, and centaurs haff no reason to find out about wizards," Viktor's even voice came back.

"You speak as one who respects our ways," Ronan said approvingly. "If you will take this foal," he said as he shoved Harry practically at Viktor's feet, "out of here quickly, we will let you live. Never come back though. We might not be so generous next time." The centaurs gathered and slowly walked out of the clearing. Harry looked up at Viktor, who had taken a small step closer to where Harry was lying.

"Stop! You get any closer, I'll scream bloody murder that you just insulted every one of those centaurs by calling them dumb animals, dirty half-breeds! They'll come back and kill us both!" Harry hissed, which brought Viktor up short, looking anxiously around.

"Harry..."

"Shut up! Let me think a minute..."

"Harry, we need to move," Viktor insisted, thrusting his right arm from his cloak, stretching it toward Harry. Harry's chest fluttered, then seemed to flop as he spotted the purple among the paler flesh of the forearm.

"You're bruised, but you could have just done that. What did you call Hermione?" He was desperate now to hear it again, in Viktor's voice. Hermione had only whispered the word to Harry, one evening in the common room. She hadn't even told Ron, she said. Ron would only laugh at how silly she was being over a word. Over the word. Over what he had called her, the form of address he used only rarely. Harry had thought it a bit sentimental, but not all that silly. He couldn't see Viktor bestowing that title on much of anyone. Hermione had been almost giddy, relaying it to him.

"What?" You mean last year when I could not pronounce..." Harry could already hear footsteps out among the trees. It could be anyone. Hagrid, Viktor, the imposter... he had to know who was standing in front of him before he could trust.

"No! Foreign! Answer me!" Harry said, nearly frantic by now.

A look of comprehension passed over Viktor's face, and he nodded. "Sokrovishte," he answered quietly, and Harry's body went limp with relief.

"Impedimenta!" a familiar voice cut through the trees, and Viktor collapsed stiffly back into the loose leaves with a muffled thump. Harry hardly had time to register who the voice belonged to before the curse was repeated, and he knew no more.