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 83

Chapter Summary:
Snape is snarky, as per usual, Dumbledore sets about finding out what really happened during the Third Task, sandbagging, a touch of Bulgarian, and when yes means no and no means yes.
Posted:
09/10/2003
Hits:
612
Author's Note:
Croft is still doing yeoman's work beta reading this thing. Croft even has the sequel all beta-read and ready to go. Let's hear it for Croft the uber-beta.

Harry jerked awake lying crossways on Hagrid's large bed. Viktor lay rigidly beside him. Clustered around the bed, he could see Ron, Hermione, Hagrid - still holding his crossbow, Snape and Dumbledore. "Potter, would you like to explain to us all why exactly you were out of bounds yet again and why I was told to go traipsing through the woods to stun you and Krum on sight?" Snape asked coldly.

"It wasn't him. It wasn't him to begin with..." Harry said weakly, sitting up. Viktor, also on the bed was still stunned. Silly, but he was comforted when he noticed that the person lying beside him obviously had a round, gold locket lying at the hollow of his throat.

"I think perhaps we had better wake Viktor first. Surely since he gave permission to the rest of us to go stunning him, which is not entirely pleasant, I think it might be wise to get his input on this," Dumbledore interrupted. "Enervate!"

Viktor's first words were a muttered, "Damn! Half and half...and they do get me..."

"Now perhaps we can get some light shed on this," Dumbledore said cheerfully, settling down in a chair with the air of someone who was about to be entertained by a good story. "Harry?"

"The kitchen. Viktor wanted to talk to me, took me out near the woods, but there wasn't a bruise, so it couldn't have been Viktor, you see?" Harry babbled, aware he was making little sense. "I mean, first it was little things that nagged me, like not knowing how to get the doorknob to the kitchen open, and being surprised about the coffee, and looking at the elves that way. It was somebody else!"

"Potter, what fairy tale are you telling now?" Snape sneered.

"I was not even near the kitchen earlier. Polyjuice. Hair. Got the hair before I got the bruise, then. I couldn't take the chance that you would see 'me' with Harry and assume it was okay," Viktor interjected.

"And who would be the person who supposedly did this?" Snape said, "Same person you said you didn't trust further than you could throw them? I think you might be letting your own feelings about this person get ahead of you. Age alone... "

"Does not matter. Look around in a few weeks and check ages. There's fresh blood on all sides. All I haff are my suspicions, which, according to you are worth nothing. Just give me the potion, do this and get it over with so you can get your precious proof. You are worse than the Ministry," Viktor snapped.

"Very well. Four drops, in that glass of water, drink it all, it should take effect within a few minutes. Should take out all the larger muscles, but not affect your ability to talk. Don't be standing when it does, unless you like crumpling to the floor and want the rest of them trying to gather you up. I need to get back to the castle, to do rounds in the halls," Snape called, sweeping toward the door.

"You would be better off checking up on that person," Viktor warned.

"I'll think about it," Snape said with a raised brow.

"Severus, I think it might be wise to stop by and keep tabs," Dumbledore said, "Given the circumstances."

"Very well, Headmaster. As you wish. You can meet me there afterwards and let me know if this fantasy proves reliable," Snape said, in a more conciliatory tone. "But I imagine I shall simply be disturbing a quiet evening for no reason," he said before disappearing into the night outside the door.

"Give me a minute with Hermione. I need to tell her something. Be back in a second," Viktor said, grabbing Hermione's hand and striding off toward the door to the cabin with Hermione in tow. Their silhouettes were plainly visible in front of the window, with the bright moonlight behind. Viktor seemed to be pleading a quick case, relaying facts and counting them off on his fingers, as though stacking up incriminating evidence against a defendant. All of the occupants of the cabin were extra quiet, hardly breathing, and he suspected the rest of them were watching and listening just as intently as he was. And pretending just as hard as he was that they were doing anything but watching the proceedings outside.

Strain as he might, Harry could only hear a few snatches of one side of the conversation, including Hermione's surprised "That's why it wasn't in the books!" and her curious question, "Are you sure it was hair?" followed closely by her comment, "Well, of course it was, what else makes sense? You think this will prove it? That it was... all along?" Harry could tell that Viktor nodded vigorously, and then he caught the murmur of his voice, louder now, but still infuriatingly low enough as to mingle the words together into a blur. He felt his cheeks burn red when he realized what it meant when the two shadows merged into one. He was kissing her. Maybe goodbye, Harry thought, his stomach dropping. They broke apart quickly and came rushing back in, nearly identical grim expressions in place. Hermione took up a firm stance between Ron and Harry, arms crossed, as though steeling herself for what was to come.

"Okay, give it to me," Viktor said flatly, and Dumbledore handed him the glass.

"You can still change your mind you know," Dumbledore said evenly.

"After tonight? You must be kidding," Viktor replied incredulously.

"Just offering," Dumbledore replied.

"An' what is my job in all this?" Hagrid asked.

"You keep our hands together. Break them, crush them if you haff to, but keep them together. Better to wake up with a crushed hand than to not wake up," Viktor said matter-of-factly, perching on the edge of Hagrid's bed with the glass in his hand, drinking it as soon as he had finished.

"First?" Dumbledore asked, shifting his chair closer to the bed.

"First, let us see if Snape's done his job as advertised," Viktor replied, handing the empty glass back. They sat in silence for what seemed a small eternity before Viktor flopped limply back onto the bed, bouncing up off the mattress a little. "Well," he said after some seconds of lying there awkwardly, considering the ceiling, legs dangling off of Hagrid's high bed, "I think he did. I cannot move at all, except for blinking, swallowing and talking."

"Paralyzing potion," Hermione remarked to Harry and Ron, in response to their curious looks.

"Hagrid, you might want to put his legs up on the bed before we get started, that can't be comfortable," Dumbledore said, adjusting the glasses on his extremely crooked nose. Hagrid carefully rearranged Viktor the right way around on the bed, and Dumbledore clasped his right hand, fingers intertwined. "Now then, it's your job to keep those together until Viktor's back with us fully, alright then?" Hagrid nodded and wrapped his large hands around them both. "Whatever you do, don't let go until it's absolutely over. Ready?"

"As I will ever be," Viktor replied softly.

"Very well then. Echomensa," Dumbledore said evenly, wielding his wand in the air. At first, Harry was sure that absolutely nothing had happened, until Viktor's eyes rolled back a little and Dumbledore set his mouth firmly, as though concentrating very hard. "Repeat what you said last," Dumbledore ordered.

"As I will ever be," Viktor replied softly, with exactly the same tone and pitch and volume as before.

"Further in, then. Can you still talk to me right now?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes... not for... much... longer... though," Viktor replied haltingly and with some effort.

"Just a bit farther then. And then we'll see. How about, oh, let's see, what is it you told me just last week about Ron's Keeper's technique?"

"He dives too early, more experienced Chasers can see it coming and adjust. But he will improve that soon enough," Viktor said in a conversational tone. The words flowed freely and easily.

"I do not! I ..." Ron clamped his mouth shut in the face of the glares coming from Hermione and Harry.

"Do... t..." Viktor stopped abruptly, mid syllable and never resumed. Dumbledore waited patiently for a moment before speaking.

"Too far in now for him to talk on his own. I'll need to move along. Alright, something from last year. Let's try what you said the night you arrived at Hogwarts. Something Harry would have heard. That way we can check it with something other than my poor overtaxed memory. You're younger Harry, not so many years to remember as I have," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry knew a moment of panic when Viktor neither moved, blinked, nor spoke. He was so relieved when he realized the reason why that he gave an embarrassing, braying laugh. "Sorry... it's just ... well, he never said anything in front of me that first night."

"Oh! Well, then, let's try the next night, in the study after the names were drawn." Silence again.

"Professor... I don't think he said anything that night either. Karkaroff did all the talking. He just... well, he just looked at me a bit oddly. Like he couldn't quite figure out how I got there, but he never complained. I mean, not like the other champions and Madame Maxime and everyone else. He just looked kind of puzzled. Which I guess he had a right to. I was the fourth in the Tournament that's supposed to have only three competitors, and I was obviously too young."

"Well, Viktor is quite economical with words. Why don't you tell me when you first heard him speak, instead, and we'll go from there. Either of you, actually." Dumbledore said, looking from Harry to Hermione.

"Errr, library," Hermione said weakly.

"Very well then, first thing you said to Hermione in the library," Dumbledore said in a sprightly manner, as though he were making conversation over tea.

"...box...Minister...Cup" Viktor muttered, almost under his breath. Hermione gasped as he repeated the first three words he had uttered to her. Then, strangely, he narrated what seemed to be his own thoughts, "Oh, brilliant opening, Viktor. She probably does think I am a simpleton, now."

"Good enough. I assume he didn't say that last bit out loud when he was actually talking to you?" Hermione shook her head numbly. "One more quick test then. Harry, what did he first say in front of you?"

Harry gushed nervously. "Oh! Err... ummm... well, let's see... the next time we were together was the weighing of the wands, but he just nodded there. Saw him in the library a lot at lunchtimes, when Hermione and I were looking for something to do about dragons. Remember, when you said he wasn't even good looking and said none of those girls would giggle like that if he couldn't do that Wonky-Feint thing?" he babbled at Hermione, who only blushed furiously in answer. "Sorry. Ummm... there was... the first task... where he..." Harry heaved a sigh, "Where he said absolutely nothing. Come to think of it, I think the first time I ever heard his voice was at the Yule Ball... when he was telling Hermione about Durmstrang."

"Very well then. The conversation about Durmstrang," Dumbledore said, screwing up his face in concentration.

Harry hadn't realized until Viktor began to speak just how much his voice had changed since more than a year ago. It was noticeably deeper now, than the lighter, more boyish, enthusiastic tone he took on to recreate his comments about Durmstrang. "Vell, ve haff a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking. Ve haff just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve haff grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve haff very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -" Harry nodded along in unison as the words he remembered came tumbling back in the thicker accent of last year.

"Now, now, Viktor! Don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!" Harry froze as Karkaroff's words came back. In Karkaroff's own voice.

"Igor, all this secrecy... one would almost think you didn't want visitors." Dumbledore's voice. Only Dumbledore's lips weren't moving. Only Viktor's as he formed those same words and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"Well, Dumbledore, we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we..."

"That's enough. I remember that conversation all too well. Well then. I suppose we can proceed. Seems to work well enough," Dumbledore said brightly.

"His voice..." Harry began, "Karkaroff's voice ..."

"The body remembers, Harry. Now then. We had best hurry. I can't keep this up all night. Keeping one old body going is quite enough work, thank you," Dumbledore said briskly. "Now then, the third task, the maze. I think we should start with something nice and neutral beforehand. Talking with your parents, maybe," Dumbledore decided. He was met with a barrage of rapid Bulgarian in three different voices, sometimes overlapping, while Viktor's lips hardly ever stilled. Harry marveled at the way the syllables that Viktor wasn't even forming with his mouth still came out clear as if he had formed them. "Oh dear. I had forgotten. They would have spoken in Bulgarian, wouldn't they? Ah well, scratch that, then. Little good Bulgarian does me, I don't know a speck of it, unfortunately. How about Minerva's little speech, then?"

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze. If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?" McGonagall's voice, as clear and brisk and accented as it was each day in class. Viktor nodded slowly, as all three of the champions had last year, in response to that echo of last year.

"Oh dear. I fear that potion might not be doing quite the job we hoped. Young, strong, he's going to fight it. Hagrid, you might have to do a bit more than hold hands," Dumbledore said warningly. "From your whistle, then, Viktor. Anything and everything you might have heard, thought, or sensed that might help us."

The quiet was deafening for a moment. Harry was sure he could hear his heart in his ears. Then Viktor drew a short breath, moved his lips, and Harry caught the murmur of Karkaroff's voice, fading in and out, join me Viktor, join me Viktor, don't be a fool, you can buy my way back in, back into their good graces, your present fame is nothing compared to what he could give you, you never want to be attacked like you were the other night, do you?, he can protect you, you could give Mad-Eye Moody a run for his money with your skill, I need you, I made you, you would be nothing without me, I treated you like my own son, give in to it, join me ... growing steadily weaker with each word. His eyelids fluttered, and Harry noted the perspiration condensing on Viktor's lip, though the cabin was cool.

The third whistle blast. The signal for Fleur to enter the maze. All the champions would be in now. Nothing but murmurs for a moment, then Harry's own distant voice crying "Expecto Patronum!" as he encountered the Boggart which had been masquerading as a Dementor, the words once again formed by Viktor's mouth. Silence again. Then Fleur's piercing scream, another space of silence, and again, Harry's voice, yelling. "Fleur?" Then the second noise began. At first, it seemed to be a distant menacing rumble, like thunder rolling through mountains, drowned beneath the constant whining patter of Karkaroff's voice. Then it changed. Grew. Swelled like a tsunami.

The horrible, screeching shriek reverberated off the walls in Hagrid's cabin, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione clapped their hands over their ears in pain. Fang howled mournfully and dived under the table in an effort to get away from it. "Oh! It's awful! It's worse out loud!" Hermione yelled. Karkaroff's voice had disappeared now, drowned in the swell of the second. Viktor gritted his teeth and convulsed on the bed, eyes rolling back, eyelids half closed, head smacking against the pillow, small choking noises coming from his throat. With apparent great effort, he tented his left knee, shoved his booted heel against the mattress, heaved himself onto his right side, and curled his free left arm tightly up over his ear, as though trying to shut the noise out, still jerking slightly. Then, as abruptly as it began, the noise stopped. The twitching stilled, the eyes opened, and the arm came down, resting the curled fingers on the pillow in front of the face. If you didn't look too closely, he was simply casually draped over the bed, taking a rest. As long as you didn't look at the eyes. Harry was reminded most uncomfortably of the times in the infirmary, when Viktor's eyes had been open, but there was nothing behind them. No spark. No life.

From looking blindly past the fingers, the eyes shifted and fixed on the fingers. Viktor flexed them experimentally, as though he was new to using them. A smile curled up the left side of his mouth when he saw them bend, and there was no warmth in it. He twitched again, and at first, Harry took it for more convulsions, but then he realized there was a low, deep chuckle that was responsible. Viktor parted his lips, and carefully formed the words. "Come on out, my pet. I told you it would take the both of us together to get in. No sparks now. Let them hunt a cold trail for the time being. Follow close, but not too close." Mad-Eye Moody's low growl. Barty Crouch Jr. casting the Imperius Curse.

"Oh... oh... he was right then ... no sparks..." Hermione squeaked, putting her hands over her mouth. Harry was reminded of those statues of monkeys you often saw. Well, we've had 'hear no evil' and 'speak no evil', we just need something to make us cover our eyes now, and we will have covered 'see no evil', he thought crazily.

"Right about wh..." Ron began, but Hermione shushed him frantically. Harry was so busy watching them, it did not register at first, the second laugh. Throaty. Rich. Almost musical, like tinkling bells. Very, very female. And hauntingly familiar. Harry's stomach lurched when the words began.

"Pity. Zis would 'ave been so much easier if you 'ad just given in to my Veela-charm instead."

"Fl..." Ron began, but Hermione shushed him once again, actually smacking the flat of her palm against his shoulder.

"It could 'ave been so much more pleasant. 'oo ever 'eard of a teenage boy saying no to a Veela? I suppose you get used to zem, playing near zem so long. But still, I wonder if it would 'ave made a difference if I 'ad gotten to you before you started visiting the library? Before that shaggy leetle Mudblood? I tried ratting you out to Karkaroff, but 'e evidently 'ad no more success zan I did, persuading you to drop 'er. Yule Ball partner, indeed! No matter. You will 'elp us anyway. Get up. Diggory needs to be taken care of. We need to get 'im out of ze way," Fleur's icy voice ordered. The fingers flexed. Curled into a fist. Unfurled slowly.

"Come on then, help me get him up. He's proving harder to control than I expected, too. Together now." Moody's voice again.

Both voices together, "Up!" Onto his back again, legs moving restlessly, but still weak. The potion had to be wearing off.

"Forward, I heard Diggory just ahead," Moody's voice snarled. Harry noted that there should have been several of his own jinxes and defensive spells in that space. Viktor apparently hadn't heard his yells when he had been so deeply under. Harry cringed, knowing what must come next, after the long silence.

Cedric's voice. "What are you doing? What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

Then Viktor's. "Crucio!" Then Cedric's yells, while Viktor flailed horribly, almost as though someone were performing the curse on him now. Harry felt himself shrivel in the face of the memory, the frantic search for some break in the hedge, some way to get to Cedric. Harry felt his knees soften and go weak. Beside him, Ron and Hermione both looked extremely pale, washed of color.

"Stop! You're hurting him, and you already got your answer!" Hermione yelled.

"Shh! Hermione, it's Cedric you're hearing, just a memory..." Ron whispered, but the words had no sooner left his mouth than the first set of screams were joined by a second set. Viktor's. They overlapped and echoed around the hut, and the cacophony was made worse when Fang howled and barked along with them, and was answered by distant barks outside the cabin. He jerked and convulsed more violently, yanking and twisting at the joined hands so hard that Harry could see his bicep flex and bulge under his sleeve with each spasm. He seemed to have regained almost full use of every muscle in his arms at least. Hagrid actually teetered a little at one particularly violent jerk, when Viktor half sat up. The half-giant's knuckles went white as he increased his hold, and Harry hoped he was imagining the noise that sounded like grinding bones as Hagrid tugged him back toward the bed. It looked something like a bizarre arm wrestling match with three contestants, with Hagrid wrestling Dumbledore and Viktor's clasped hands lower, below the level of the bed, leaving Viktor's shoulder and arm in an awkward twist, but still yanking at the cluster of their hands. The knuckles on Viktors' left hand were drained of color as he clutched a fistful of the quilt covering the bed. The barking outside grew louder and even more frantic.

"Ivan... Natasha ..." Hermione breathed, "Please... stop it..."

"It needs to be finished. I can't just yank back," Dumbledore protested, and Harry began to see the strain on him as well. Beads of sweat were forming on his upper lip and forehead, and Hagrid was beginning to sandwich the pair of hands between his own even more firmly together. The muffled crunch that reached Harry's ears was most definitely not just in his head.

The screaming went on and on. It hadn't gone on that long in the maze, had it? Harry once again had that curious feeling of being outside himself when at long last he heard his own voice from Viktor's lips. "Stupefy!" Viktor jerked again, then was still. No blinking, no twitching, only ragged panting and sweat running down his temple. Harry found himself willing Viktor to at least blink, but for a moment, the tableau froze, Viktor on the bed, Dumbledore clutching at his hand, bent over him, Hagrid hugging their hands together so tightly that it looked like he was trying to make diamonds from coal.

"Now then lad, I wish I could tell you not to fight me just yet, but I suspect that's a ways off," Dumbledore said quietly. "Let's try something a bit happier from this past year. Give me the first thing you said upon picking up these three in London for their summer visit."

"So you are all here already. Good. Milkshakes?" The words were the same as they were all those months ago, but Viktor struggled to get them out. He jerked. He fought.

"Okay. Backing out now. Say something," Dumbledore said, panting. Viktor's lips twitched, but no words came. "Fine, then. Random memory from the summer, instead."

"The same artist has a painting in the museum in Sofia. It is a landscape vith a meadow on the left and ...a vind... a vind... a vindmill..." Each word was wrenched from his lips like it was a gut wrenching effort.

"Enough," Dumbledore cut him off after a bit.

"He said that this past summer. On his first trip. We went to the museum ... " Hermione half whispered.

"Backing out more. For heaven's sake, say something of your own accord," Dumbledore pleaded, and for the first time, Harry felt really afraid about how long it was taking for Viktor to come back to himself. He was heartened when some noise came from Viktor's lips.

"S... S... S... Se... Se... Se zabavia," he gasped.

"Say what?" Ron burst out.

"Say it again," Dumbledore insisted, "In English."

"S... Se... Se... Se zabavia!"

"English? Any English word?" Dumbledore asked, sounding frantic.

"Se zabavia!" Viktor scrabbled at Hagrid's wrist, trying to get past it to Dumbledore's. He finally rolled onto his side, threaded his left arm through and clutched at Dumbledore's loose wrist, shaking it, as though he could get his meaning across by touch alone. After a moment, he let go, forming a fist and pounding it against the bed. Whether in pain or frustration, or both, Harry couldn't tell.

"Slow down!" Hermione demanded.

"I admit, I had not foreseen this possibility, that he might not regain the English right away, but I need him to guide me back out..." Dumbledore mumbled, more to himself than anyone in the room.

"No, it means 'slow down'! In Bulgarian!" Hermione explained.

"Since when do you know Bulgarian!?" Ron shrieked.

"I don't! I mean, just a few words and phrases here and there. Things Viktor taught me. Just to get the way verbs work down. Se zabavia. Da. Got it," she said, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. She tentatively touched her fingertips to his shoulder.

Viktor rested for a moment, then writhed as though in pain, murmuring, "Iz... iz... izliza... izliza." He was pecking weakly at Hagrid's wrist again the whole while, then waved impatiently at Dumbledore, as though shooing him away.

"Get out!" Hermione burst out at last. "He's saying 'get out'." Dumbledore's face became grim once more with the apparent effort of backing away.

"Ssss... sss... spir... spir..." Viktor grimaced harder as he tried to form the word.

"Spirane? Is it spirane?" Hermione asked.

"D... da..."

"Stop, then," Hermione supplied. It seemed an eternity went by before Dumbledore spoke again.

"I really do need to be getting this over with," Dumbledore wheezed.

"Viktor? Can he? Back out more? Izliza?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Ochakva," Viktor murmured. The word was barely audible, thin and weak, slipping out between increasingly white lips. Viktor's eyelids seemed to have gone very heavy, his eyes nearly closed, opening only with a considerable effort. Harry was hard pressed to decide which of the two had gone more pale, Dumbledore or Viktor.

"I can't," Hermione breathed. Dumbledore looked at her expectantly. "I can't remember what it means! Viktor?"

"Ochakva," he repeated, eyelids fluttering.

"Izliza?" Hermione burst out after a moment. Viktor's only response was a slow nod.

"Right then ... I'll back..." Dumbledore began, but Hermione interrupted.

"No! Wait! He might not mean yes!"

"What are you on about, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Well, he's speaking Bulgarian, maybe he's nodding like a Bulgarian too," Hermione explained.

"What?" Ron said.

"He told me in the train station, when we were coming back from my house, that Bulgarians usually do that when they mean 'no' ... look, Viktor, no nodding or head shaking, use words. Da or ne?" Hermione insisted.

It seemed to take forever for the word to come out. "N... n... ne."

"Wait, then. Ochakva must mean wait," Hermione mused. Another long moment of silence passed before Viktor spoke again.

"Izliza ...pozvoliava da otiva... " he said in a strangled voice.

"Get out... all the way, let go? Can he let go?" Hermione asked, making exaggerated gestures with her hands, clasping and unclasping.

"Da... Sokrovishte ... da ..." Viktor replied, and he and Dumbledore once more seemed to be under great strain. Viktor's fist pounded the mattress again. His voice came back full force as he repeated, "Yes... Pozvoliava da otiva ... pozvoliava da otiva ... pozvoliava da otiva... Pozvoliava da o... oh, fu... let go already!" The second Hagrid let go, Dumbledore began cradling his hand to his chest, and Viktor rolled to his side and did the same. The next few Bulgarian words that Viktor spoke, Harry was quite sure he hadn't taught those to Hermione.

"Sorry," Hagrid mumbled, looking a little abashed.

"No... no... do not apologize. Like I said earlier, better a broken hand than not waking up at all," Viktor said, gritting his teeth and sitting up.

"True, Hagrid. Now then, I suppose we had better be getting back up to the castle and checking on Severus. And letting Poppy do something about these hands. Hagrid, why don't you go see about Severus, in Fleur's quarters, and we'll get our wand hands seen to before we need them, eh?" Dumbledore said a little thinly, gathering up his cloak with his left hand and draping it over his shoulders. Hagrid was already out the door by the time Viktor was out of the bed and gathered up his cloak. Ivan and Natasha very nearly bowled everyone between the door and the bed over in their haste to get to Viktor. Except for the dogs, it was rather a grim march back to the infirmary.

The only words spoken were Viktor's muttered, "And I thought broken bones were something. Crushed ones put them to shame."