Past Present

Not so haggard as it had been when they had first encountered one another, Sirius's face still had the drained and worn look that belied the suffering he had experienced in Azkaban. Harry blinked dazedly and looked around, to find himself in a dim kitchen, in a slightly rundown looking house. "Umbridge?" Sirius asked, looking up over Harry, behind him.

Harry turned to see Viktor gathering himself up off of the hearth as well. He stood and gave a grim nod before speaking. "Sirius Black, I presume?" Viktor asked, and Harry forced himself to nod. "Hagrid was running for the gates the last time I saw him... Minerva... four?" he asked Hermione. She nodded. "Four Stunning spells. Right in the chest. The cowards ganged up on her when she went out to defend Hagrid. They were making arrangements to carry her in when we were crossing the lawn. I haff no idea how bad..." he added with a shake of his head.

"Ronald Arthur Weasley! What are you doing out of school? In the middle of the night! And Harry, Hermione! What's the meaning of this?" came Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice from the doorway. She was in her dressing gown, and her red hair was messy. "What are they doing here?" she demanded loudly, drawing herself up to full height in front of Viktor. Harry would have laughed if he had the breath, at this small, plump redheaded woman demanding answers of Viktor, when she barely reached his chest.

"Just doing what I was told," Viktor said calmly, waving the red envelope at her between two long fingers. She snatched it and read it.

"Look, Dumbledore and the rest will be back any minute. Several more on the way, too. Harry..." Sirius breathed, folding Harry in a crushing hug, "it's good to see you. Kingsley told us the Ministry folk weren't doing anything about Hogwarts until next week. And you weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow night, Viktor."

"Was I? News to me, either one. A week? Tell that to Minerva," Viktor muttered, stuffing the envelope back in his pocket, "Damn idiots. Prison breaks, impending war, and they are busy picking over who everyone's parents are! Who am I supposed to be talking to, anyway?"

"As many as we can get together. The most of them will be here tonight. Dumbledore will probably want to get it over with, seeing as you all are here already," Sirius explained. "Coffee's on if you all want some," he added, ruffling Harry's hair. "Umbridge leave the door open for you all, or did you have to take one of the other Floos?"

"Used hers," Viktor said simply, sitting in a chair facing the back door.

"She was that sloppy? No password? Simple locking charm?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Used the Muggle approach. Simple and direct. The hard way," Viktor answered, a subtle smile curling the corner of his mouth.

"And what would that be?" Sirius pressed.

"Kicked it in. Couldn't hear it over the fireworks. Although, I would like to see her face when she got back to her office," Viktor said.

"Fireworks? Do I want to know?" Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh.

"Probably not. Would it make it better if I told you they did it on orders from a member of the faculty?" Viktor asked with an arched brow.

"You three should be in bed," Mrs. Weasley said brusquely, looking pointedly at Harry, Hermione and Ron.

"If it's all the same, Mum, I couldn't sleep anyway," Ron said.

"Me either," Hermione added.

"I'm not sleepy," Harry said, flopping into the chair beside Viktor.

"I would prefer the coffee to a bed right now, myself," Viktor said softly, "if you do not mind."

"Fine, then, coffee, but as soon as they start to meet, you three scoot off to bed," Mrs. Weasley ordered. Harry noticed that Viktor and Sirius exchanged looks, but neither of them said anything. Over the next thirty minutes, several unfamiliar figures entered the kitchen door, in pairs and alone. As each entered, Sirius introduced them. Nymphadora Tonks, his cousin, a young woman with violently pink hair, who preferred to go by Tonks. The vaguely familiar Dedalus Diggle, whom Harry had actually met once before, and a pink cheeked, black haired witch named Hestia Jones. Soon after, followed the wheezy-voiced Elphias Doge, a wizard with straw-colored hair named Sturgis Podmore, and minutes after them, Emmeline Vance, a tall, stately witch with a regal bearing and her hair in a neat bun. Menalaus Muggeridge, a grizzled old wizard with steely gray hair that stood up in all directions, and Theodore Thripplewhite, a thin and rather nervous wizard who had shockingly white-blonde hair.

The entering witches and wizards would often gape at Harry, then offer up the observation, "You look just like James, you know. Except for the eyes. Those are Lily's eyes," or something similar. Then they would move on to one of the other rooms, for a sit down or even a kip or some conversation. Harry was rather relieved when a very familiar Mr. Weasley and Bill came trailing in, knowing he wouldn't have to act pleasantly surprised about his resemblance to his father once again while talking with yet another stranger.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Mr. Weasley said distractedly, after Mrs. Weasley had pulled him aside for a hurried consultation with much eye rolling in the table's direction. "We haven't lost him, have we, Bill? I'd hate for him to get lost."

"No, Dad. He was a few minutes behind. Said he'd catch up directly," Bill replied. The words had no more than left his mouth when a burly figure in a hooded cloak burst through the door, grumbling under his breath and shaking off the dampness from the light mist falling outside.

"Well! What's this, then?" came a gruff voice beneath the hood, which was pointed at the table. The face beneath was shrouded in shadow, not a feature to be seen. Harry had the curious sensation of being studied by someone he couldn't see. There was a wondering tone to the voice now, like the figure was thinking aloud in private, not talking to a group. "Ahhh... curious! It's almost like having the past right here in the present... Nearly like being taken back sixteen years or so. But I expect you've heard that you look almost exactly like your father enough times to be sick of it. Except for the eyes. There's something about the eyes that remind me of her... softer..." Harry had just opened his mouth to reply that yes, indeed, he was most certainly sick of being told he looked just like his parents when the broad hands went up to tip the hood back, to reveal a ruddy face dominated by a bushy walrus mustache topped by wild, thick blonde hair. He reminded Harry rather a lot of a more cheerful and scruffier Uncle Vernon, for there was an amused glint in the dark eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you had your mother's eyes, Viktor?"

Viktor narrowed his eyes and took a long, hard look at the figure in the firelight as he took a limping step forward. "A few times," Viktor said softly.

"Do you remember me at all? You can't have been anything more than knee high the last time I saw you," the large blonde man said with a broad smile.

"Lestrev? Mikhail Lestrev?" Viktor asked tentatively, twirling his cup by the rim between his fingertips.

"So you do remember me a bit, then? I'd like to send my regards to your parents, next time you see them or talk to them. Your father was a good man, Viktor. I imagine he still is. I miss having him around. Although, I have to say, young Weasley there is coming along," Lestrev said with a nod in Bill's direction. Bill waved a modest and dismissive hand in response. Viktor's dark eyes slid to Hermione, and they exchanged a look as though they each wished to say something, but still, they remained silent.

"So who are we still missing, then?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Just Dumbledore, Lupin, and Moody," Sirius said, "and they should be here any minute."

After several more minutes of sipping second cups of coffee that none of them seemed to want very much, Harry was beginning to feel extremely tired. It was well past two in the morning already. His head felt very fuzzy. He almost didn't recognize Lupin until he was standing beside the table. "Prof..." Harry began, but he was interrupted by a shattering noise right beside him. When he turned, he saw that what was left of Viktor's coffee cup was scattered beneath the table and chairs. He had been returning it to the sink, and he still stood, frozen, pale as if he had seen a ghost. "Viktor? Are you alright?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Ne poveche... stiga smyrtta," Viktor said in a strangled voice.

"Pardon?" Lupin asked, looking back and forth between Harry and Viktor.

"Ne poveche... stiga smyrtta... you... you were in the cafe that day! You were in the cafe in Russia!" Viktor said urgently.

"Sorry... but I've never been to Russia..." Lupin said rather helplessly, looking around as though he wanted some help figuring out exactly what he was being accused of.

"But you were... I... I haff seen your face thousands of times, every time, it is always the same. I could have described you at the drop of a hat before I even met you... I sat right across from you that day. It was your face..." Viktor trailed off.

"Perhaps it's a coincidence. He just reminds you of someone you saw that day..." Hermione said softly.

Viktor gave a little shake of his head. "It was his face. I am sure of it."

"But I tell you, I've never been to Russia... you've mistaken me for someone else," Lupin said sincerely.

"He wouldn't lie, Viktor," Harry interjected. "We're all tired." Viktor gave him a look that said he doubted he was that tired, but instead, he turned his attention to repairing the cup in shards under the table.

"So... who are we missing yet?" Lupin asked Sirius, still looking a bit unsettled.

"Dumbledore and Moody," Sirius answered.

"Well, as soon as they get here, it's bed for the three of you," Mrs. Weasley barked.

"I don't think so, Molly," Sirius said.

"What on earth are you talking about? It's already morning, of course they're going to bed!" she shot back.

"Molly, Harry has a right to hear this. It concerns him," Sirius countered.

"Nonsense. He's a child, and he has no business listening to the business you all are going to be discussing in there," Mrs. Weasley said with a huff.

"I disagree. And as his godfather, I think I have final say," Sirius argued.

"I agree with Black. Harry deserves to hear what concerns him," Viktor said softly.

"And why is that?" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"Because, keeping things from him has not benefited him nor kept him any safer these last four years, now has it? And while you are at it, you might as well let Ron and Hermione in there and save our breath later," Viktor said evenly.

"You wouldn't dare go telling them what's discussed in there!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"I would. And unless Harry, at least, gets to sit in, if he likes, I will not be attending either," Viktor said with a shrug.

"We'll see about that," Mrs. Weasley muttered, and Harry supposed she would have said more, but for the door opening, and the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore slipping in the back door with Moody right behind him.

"Ah, Harry. I'd like for you to meet someone. This is Alastor Moody. Alastor, this is Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, not looking in the least surprised to see them in the kitchen at this hour.

"Professor Moody," Harry acknowledged him with a nod, feeling very odd indeed at being introduced to someone he thought he had already known for a year.

"Don't know about the 'professor'. Never got around to much teaching, now did I?" Moody said in a soft but gruff tone.

"These two think that these... these children should be allowed into the meeting!" Mrs. Weasey said, pointing an accusing finger at Viktor and Sirius.

"And you already know Sirius, of course, and that's Ron, Arthur's boy, and Hermione Granger, and ..." Dumbledore went on, as though he hadn't heard.

"Well, I do, too, so it's this whole side of the table, actually," Harry interrupted.

"This side, too, I think, Mum," Ron added, to Hermione's nod.

Viktor stood and walked out around the table, taking his restored cup with him. He put it on the counter, then stopped halfway between Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley and considered both a moment before speaking. "Look, this whole thing involves Harry, more than it does any of us. It concerns them too, because they are involved with the rest of us, if for no other reason. He deserves to know what is going on if anyone does. And they might as well, too. There is something going on anyway, with the four of us and we need to figure it out. Treating Harry like a child is not going to help. You know as well as I do that he has the biggest role in this, like it or not. And if you do not let him in there, you can forget about hearing from me," Viktor said firmly.

"Tonight's a very important meeting. It brings to an end the old Order of the Phoenix. And establishes a new, hopefully improved, Order. Do you really feel it's that important that Harry be in the meeting?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"I do. And what did you call it?" Viktor asked, a rather odd expression passing over his face. It was almost akin to the look he had when receiving the jolt of seeing Lupin's face. Puzzled, with just a hint of something else. Harry chalked it up to the chalky, pinched, sleepless look all of them had developed shortly after one in the morning.

"The Order of the Phoenix. It's the name we gave our little resistance movement back in the first war," Dumbledore said with a soft smile.

"I agree. And I say as his guardian, I've got more pull than Molly. I'm his godfather," Sirius said irritably, stomping around the table to join the group and cross his arms defiantly across his chest.

"He's only fifteen and - " Mrs. Weasley began.

"Nearly sixteen, and he's faced as much or more than the rest of us -" Sirius began, his face darkening.

"No one's denying what he's done! But he is still just a child!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "And as for you, you act as though you've got James back! Harry is not James, no matter how much you want him to be!"

"I'm quite clear on who he is, Molly," Sirius said coldly.

"Molly, you must know that Harry needs some answers, not necessarily everything, but he needs to know," Lupin spoke up, in a conciliatory tone.

"He's too young! He has adults responsible for him! And I am still in charge of my child, and Ron's not attending the meeting! I can't speak for Hermione, but I certainly can for Ron!" Mrs. Weasley shot back.

"Well, I speak for Harry," Sirius said, his voice even colder, "and I say he needs to hear."

"What would you know what he needs? Where have you been when he needed you? Azkaban! Prison! And then in hiding!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"Harry needs to know. You cannot blindfold him and expect this to go well. In fact, I think there are several blindfolds that need to be removed," Viktor said, casting a curious glance at Dumbledore.

"And how would you know? You've spent all of, what, a year with them? And you're hardly more than a child yourself," Mrs. Weasley said indignantly.

For a moment, there was absolute dead silence in the room, and then, there was a noise so strangely unfamiliar, that Harry had trouble placing it, at first. It wasn't until Viktor closed most of the distance between himself and Mrs. Weasley with one long stride that Harry realized Viktor was shouting. He had never really heard Viktor raise his voice that way. "I stopped being a child that day in that square! I stopped being a child when I stepped on an arm that had left a body behind! I haff not been a child since the day they hauled the wreck of what used to be my mother out of that wreck of what used to be a building in Pravda Square all those years ago! I stopped being a child when I found out how they had to patch up what was left of her and hope for the best! I stopped being a child when she spent all those months flat on her back in the hospital! When she had to come home and crawl to get anywhere for months! When she woke up screaming at night because she dreamed we were dead, too! I stopped being a child the day I first saw my father cry. I stopped being a child the day we buried my sister and I looked in the coffin! There was nothing left of her but a few bloody scraps! I stopped being a child when I saw those days over and over in my head every time I tried to sleep! I stopped being a child when I had to get a job, not just because I was lucky and enjoyed it and it was the chance of a lifetime, but to help keep my parents from being evicted! If there was anything of a child left in me by the time I got to Durmstrang, Karkaroff took care of that! With his great hopes for me and his 'treating me like a son' and his demonstrations and his examinations! He thought I wanted to be like him, and the only thing I really wanted was to keep my head down and get the hell out! I haff killed, Molly Weasley! Not on purpose, but I haff still done it! I did not just see death, I caused it! Karkaroff and his precious need to know! Him and his need to always be right! His need to save his own skin! Your child and these other children watched me kill my former headmaster! You might make a half decent argument that Ron and Hermione are still children if you discount that, but no hope with Harry!" As Harry listened, he felt himself bristling. Viktor was right, he wasn't a child! He deserved to know as much as any member of the Order of the Phoenix! Viktor was getting more and more angry, and the longer he talked, the louder his voice got. "Harry is not any more a child than I am! Or you are! You cannot be a child anymore when Voldemort has taken your blood to resurrect himself and you drag the lifeless body of an innocent young man barely of age back with you after fighting him off! We are both always going to haff to live with the specter of Cedric Diggory hanging over us! My hand and my wand and my voice tortured him not twenty minutes before he died! Harry took him along to his death! And it does not matter that we are both innocent of the intent to cause harm, because it did not prevent the harm, now did it? You go look Amos Diggory in the eye and tell him his son's death did not teach you anything! I had to look him in the eye at the memorial service and say I was sorry, and that was hard enough! Try telling him that Cedric's death did not change anything! That it was not worth anything! That you are still willing to go along the way things haff been, with Harry being the person who obviously has the biggest role in the defeat of Voldemort for some reason that no one who knows seems to be willing to make clear to anyone else, and Harry stumbling along in the dark worse than the rest of us! So you can either let go of this fantasy of Harry still being a child, or you can get us all killed! And if you concede that Harry needs to know, you might as well let the other two in, because there are going to be no more secrets! No more secrets, or you can forget about me haffing any part in this little resistance movement, because all it is going to be good for is flapping their hands when Harry gets himself killed because he does not know what he needs to, and taking no telling how many more with him, because you all are more concerned about him being afraid or getting his feelings hurt than you are about preparing him! Voldemort did not haff any mercy on him because he was a child, neither should you! Your mercy and compassion is going to be what gets him killed! All of you!" Viktor paused and ran his fingers through his dark hair. His voice was soft once more when he added, "With all due respect... I think I care about Harry as much as any of the rest of you... but I think it is more important to get him through this in one piece than to protect his peace of mind. I think you ought to ask him if he feels like a child. I felt ancient at his age."

Mrs. Weasley blinked a bit, then her face turned tomato red. "You come in here and dictate to me!? Harry is not going to that meeting-" she huffed. Harry saw red. Before he knew it, he was up and shouting as well, stomping his sneakers on the kitchen floor as he flew around the end of the table.

"Shut up! Just shut up! You all talk about me like I'm not even here! You all talk about what's best for me, and don't even bother to ask me what I think! Viktor's right! I have a right to know! Sirius wants me to know! Mrs. Weasley, you are not my mother! My mother's dead! Voldemort killed her! And I wish you would stop acting like last year never happened! I wish Voldemort had never come! I wish Tom Riddle had never been born! That would have solved all our problems! If he just hadn't been born in the first place!" Harry shouted.

"Harry..." Viktor's voice, but Harry was too wound up, too much was boiling up inside him to stop now.

"What do you say we get a Time Turner and go back and take care of that?" Harry shrieked, realizing he sounded a bit hysterical, "Let's make sure his parents never meet or just take care of him after they send him to Hogwarts! We can do that, right? Send someone back and just take care of ol' Tom Riddle before he becomes Voldemort?"

"Harry..." Viktor repeated, and Harry felt long fingers wrap over his shoulders, squeezing, but he couldn't stop.

"Didn't anybody see it? Didn't anybody see Tom Riddle turning into Voldemort? Or am I the only one who gets to do that?" Harry said with a short, hysterical, barking laugh. He gathered breath to speak again, but the hands on his shoulders shook him, a little roughly, Viktor's hands. Viktor's face swam into focus in front of him, dark eyes wide.

"Harry... what did you just call him?" Viktor breathed.

"Tom Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's what old Lord Thingamabob used to go by before he got the Dark Lord gig and adopted a stage name," Harry said more softly, and gave a weak laugh, followed by a hiccup. He hadn't realized until now that his cheeks were wet and he had been crying. Viktor straightened and dropped his hands from Harry's shoulders.

Viktor took a long hard look at Hermione, then burst out, "Riddle! That's his name? Riddle? Riddle! English! He insisted on English! Hints... oh, hell, they were hints. He gave me hints, and I missed it!" Viktor dropped his face into his hands.

"Hints?" Hermione said curiously.

Viktor dragged his fingers from his face. "The Guardian. I know what he was trying to get me to see, now. Terrible puns in English, aren't they? That's what he said," Viktor said, sinking into a chair at the end of the table, next to Hermione. "It is us. Somehow, it is us," he said with a shake of his head, looking at her.

"I don't remember anything about puns in the prophecy, or whatever you want to call it," Hermione said.

"No, the day before I left, he insisted on talking to me. In English. Funny language, English. So many words haff multiple meanings... What was it? Earth, air, fire, water. Two escape during the old order, defeat him in the new. Pure-bloods, half-blood, Mudblood, too. Two escape from death, now death pursue. The risen cannot last, not when the past is present, and the present past. The risen. That is Voldemort. The Guardian talked about my parents. The one who rises anew was just a rumble in the distance when they were at Durmstrang. He was giving me hints, the next time, Hermione. Hints. And I missed it," Viktor said with a sad shake of his head.

"What were they?" Hermione pressed.

"He talked about all of you. Asked me about all of you. 'Eager to see the Mudblood with the earthen colored hair again? She is a grounding influence on you. Terrible puns in English, are they not?' And when I protested the use of the term, he said he meant no harm. Just that you had sprung from non-magical roots. All references to the earth. And what about the boy with the messy hair and the sea green eyes? I said we both liked flying, and the Guardian countered with 'But is he so much the creature of the air that you are? Flies like the wind?' There's water. And air. And the boy with the fiery red hair?" Viktor added with a nod of his head at Ron. "Fire. The storm will break and you will be in the eye. Sure has been busy since the four of us got together again. Answer a riddle for the answer to a riddle. What weapon will work, he said. A riddle. For the answer to Riddle. For the answer to Voldemort." Viktor heaved a sigh, drummed his fingers on the table. He had hardly taken his eyes from Hermione's, the whole while. "The rising did not happen overnight, neither will the fall. You are already familiar with the elements of the solution to our problem. They just need to be put together properly. That is what he said. We are it. We are the elements."

"But they don't match our Patronuses. I have the otter and that wouldn't be earth. And Harry's a stag, that wouldn't go with water... Do you really think it's us?" Hermione asked, pursing her lips.

"Does not matter. The Patronuses are just another hint. You see? It does not matter which is which. There is nothing special about the type of Patronus, or who is who or which is which. We fit. As a whole. It is not any one of us. We are the elements of the solution. We are the Elements. The solution, it is the sum of us. Too much fits," Viktor said earnestly. He turned to look at Dumbledore. "You said it, just a bit before. Tonight brings to a close the old Order of the Phoenix, starts a new Order. Two escape during the old Order, defeat him in the new. Harry escaped twice. I did once. Twice, if you want to be generous and count the near miss in the square. Both of us should be dead as hammers, but we both survived a direct killing curse. An Avada Kedavra. It was not just the right charm to counter, the Guerda Engelikos, and the locket acting like a wand because of my sister's hair in it, it was the fact that the four of us were together. Or I would be dead, too. Or all four of us. There's something about the four of us together that makes us stronger. I suspect it's just more noticeable with me, because I am... of age. They are not. Maybe I... I pulled part of the power I needed from them. I even held up under the Cruciatus curse better than I should haff," Viktor said as he turned back to Hermione.

"It would explain the wobbly legs! I mean, the night with Karkaroff, that makes sense, we were all scared witless anyway! But the night when Snape went at you with the Legilimency and got nothing, we were all wobbly! I thought it was from being in the cupboard and being hot and nervous... but..." Hermione said thoughtfully, trailing off.

"He did not get anything because you three were there. It sent him staggering, trying to break through. And I was not even doing anything. It explains the trouble he had, even though I was not doing Occlumency..." Viktor said in the same tone. "And maybe the screeching when Fleur was in Harry's dreams. She wasn't trying to get into the rest of our heads. We picked up on Harry's dreams because... because..."

"Because we're experiencing the equivalent of whatever it was that Khan Krum, Gryndel, Gustav and Stoykos could do... they were linked somehow..." Hermione finished, open mouthed.

"And the broom at the Internationals. No wand. And still, it came. Because the three of you were there..." Viktor breathed.

"And outside the tent. You knew Rita Skeeter was there," Hermione added.

"And Karkaroff in Hogsmeade," Viktor said grimly. Harry was beginning to think he had never felt more shut out of a conversation taking place right in front of him. The two of them hardly seemed aware that there was anyone else in the room. "Between the four of us, there might haff been enough power to get rid of a Dementor. The Paralyzing Potion even wore off quicker than Snape expected. That night. Maybe it explains that, too."

"Pure-bloods. Two of us are. You and Ron. Mudblood, that would be me. And half-blood. That would be Harry. Two escape from death, now death pursue. The two pursuing death, or the other way around, do you think?" Hermione squeaked out.

"Both, I would be willing to bet," Viktor said softly, "and all four, not just two."

"What about that whole business about the past and the present? The past is present and the present is past?" Hermione asked.

"No idea. Unless... I still swear I saw Lupin at that cafe in that square..." Viktor said, narrowing his eyes and scrutinizing Lupin's tired, gray face, pinched in the dim light of the kitchen. "Could I haff been seeing the future, or just a coincidence? But he looked so young... could not haff been much older than I am now... the man I saw... I could not haff been seeing you now... it would haff to be then... but maybe that is what it means... the past and the present all crossed up..."

"I imagine you did..." Moody growled at last, stumping forward on his clawed wooden foot. "See his face, that is. Thanks to a Polyjuice Potion, I was wearin' it at the time. Even then this face of mine was a little too, err... distinctive to go unrecognized or unnoticed. So you were the little boy, eh? I never knew for sure if the boy with Nikolas Krum was his son. Was it your father I was talking to? I expect so, the resemblance is pretty startling." Moody paused and cocked his head to the side, his magical eye scrutinizing Viktor intently.

Viktor gaped at Moody for a moment, then nodded numbly. "It was... you? What would you haff been doing there?"

"All good resistance movements have a foreign legion. I've known Lestrev for years. Lestrev put me in touch with your father. Thought he could point us toward a lot of very sympathetic foreign wizards willing to help. Didn't work out too well, considering what happened that day. We abandoned the idea, given that Nikolas was busy with other important things afterwards, and no one else was willing to help out given what happened. They were too afraid what happened wasn't just a coincidence. Nikolas was as much a part of the Order as anyone who actually joined. He lost as much as any member. Him and your mother," Moody finished in a low, husky tone.

"I never remember hearing about any Nikolas Krum being contacted, or any foreign wizards, for that matter..." Lupin began, but Moody cut him off with a fierce look.

Moody snapped back in a gruff voice, "Wouldn't like mentioning it, now would we? No one knew but Dumbledore and myself. Went wearing your face in case there were any Death Eaters out and about that would recognize me. Fat lot of good it did! Nikolas knew he was taking a risk, even talking to us. If anyone found out, they were likely to do to him and his family what happened by accident anyway. Makes no difference that they weren't targeting the Krums specifically. We picked Pravda Square because it was so far out from most of the exclusively wizard parts of the country. We thought it would be safe. No one had any idea then how far the Death Eaters had spread. That was their first attack that far out. Nikolas knew it might happen if the wrong person heard. And he met with me anyway. Lot of people buried sons and daughters in the war... but Nikolas and Anya were the only ones to have to actually bury a child. No one likes to talk about burying children. Bad enough when your children are grown and you outlive them."

"So... then... if Voldemort... took a look at the Order of the Phoenix today..." Hermione began.

"It would look a lot like the one then," Viktor finished.

"What?" Harry found himself asking.

"Harry, how many times haff you heard 'You look just like James'? As many times as I haff heard that if I had not broken my nose and did not haff that little crook, I would look just like Nikolas. And we both haff our mothers' eyes. Ron has the trademark Weasley red hair... and Black and Lupin and Weasley and Dumbledore and several others were here the first time. Not many of the ones who came in are too young. Lestrev said it. Just like haffing the past in the present. The past is present. All the holdovers. The present is past. Or at least pretty reminiscent of it," Viktor said, looking thoughtfully at Harry. "Now, the question is... how much did you know, and when did you know it? Haff you known? All along?" Viktor asked gently, looking at Dumbledore.

Harry thought Dumbledore looked particularly wan, tired and old. "I did not put the entire thing together. You all just did. So the Guardian spoke about the four of you, did he? Fascinating. But I admit, I had to suspect something unusual when you killed a Dementor and deflected the killing curse. Would you and Miss Granger kindly explain to me how you managed to find out all that about Khan Krum and Gryndel and his brothers? I've not managed to even establish what made them so feared in battle, only the reason why Krum killed him, but then, I've been cut of from the library for a while, and I never had a reason to want to research it before. I cannot even establish if you are in any way a descendent of his," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"Not that I think it really matters, but according to the Guardian, I am. And a lot of it was reading and guessing," Viktor replied softly.

"I don't think it matters either, but interesting all the same. I admit, I did not expect Harry to find his complements, if they existed, until he had come of age. Initially, I thought perhaps the Tournament would be revived for his sixth or seventh year, and that rather left the Goblet of Fire out as a method to point out the complements, for Harry would likely be chosen Hogwarts champion. But if he weren't, perhaps the other three would be his complements. Then the talks pointed to it being played in his fourth. It would be five more years before the next Tournament, if it was reestablished, so I felt sure that seemed a likely scenario. He would not be of age, unable to enter the Tournament, impossible to be picked champion, and the other three champions might very well be as compatible as Gryndel and his lot were when standing together against Nikephoros. I still held out hope that the three champions chosen last year would be his complements, eventually, when all four of you were of age. It made sense, Harry would be the last to come of age. But Cedric's death proved that theory wrong. And Fleur's change of heart delivered the final death blow to that idea. It's a coincidence that you were both champions, I feel, now. There are, I fear, a lot of parallels in what your ancestor participated in and what we are about to participate in. And I think you're right. No more secrets. Once I tell the four of you why it is Harry that must, in the end, be the one who does what the Khan did, we'll call the meeting of the Order together, and see if we can't take care of the rest of our business. This business, I should have taken care of years ago. I see that now," Dumbledore said, sinking heavily into one of the chairs at the table. Harry was sure he had seen a single tear escape and fall into the white beard cascading down the front of the headmaster's robes.