Victor Krum was sitting in his study, sipping cognac, when an annoying, minuscule owl zoomed through his unlit fireplace. In it's beak appeared to be a small, red envelope. It deposited it on his desk and promptly flew away, leaving droppings all over his Qudditch playbook. As he stared perplexed at the letter it began to smoke. Before he could open it, it burst into flames and a strangely, familiar voice drunkenly filled the room.
"Dear Vicky,
I am not on my third pint of firewhisky at all nope. I am not sitting at a pub, talking to Neville Longbottom, while Harry is on his stupid cellophone talking to Ginny. I writin this to gloat to your fathead and stupid goatee that I, Ronald Bilius (he was a great man don't make fun of his name!), Where was I, WEASLEY-the first and only-am marrying one miss, soon to be Mrs, Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. As soon as she says yes to my proposal to MARRY her. Did I even ask her yet, hmm (hic)? Anyway, if you have any qualms (Hermione taught me that word along with other things) you may take it up with my fist and/or wand you stupid, duckfooted, fatheaded, wimpy goatee sporting, washedup old quidditch player. Yeah I said it wimpy goatee. If you try to beat me up I'll sick the savior of the wizarding world on your scrawny ass. And no I did NOT just order another pint. I ordered two. Hey remember the time you caught the snitch and your team LOST, you are such an idiot! Your team was playing well you coulda won if you weren't such a… LOSER! HAH! And another thing, Hermione only snogged you because she pitied you. WHAT! Yeah! (hic) I said it. Now I gotta go cuz Harry and his identical twin triplets are spinning around my head. So booyah! Oh sorry, Pig take this whozisface."
Victor Krum took one last look at the pile of now ashes and went to bed.