Viktor Krum was stretching. Loosening his legs and relaxing his back before engaging in his daily exercise. Next to him was his friend Nardo Hedberg.
"You ready?" asked his Swedish sparring partner.
"Yes," replied Krum. "Magical or physical first?"
"Let's start with some grappling."
Both men walked onto the mat in the center of the room. There was no formality, no indication of when to start. One moment, they were facing each other, and the next they were wrestling.
Nardo got Viktor in a head-lock. "Come on Vicky, don't lose too soon."
Viktor grabbed Nardo's leg and pushed. Nardo released the lock and both men rolled forward. Viktor managed to land behind Nardo and get him in Nelson hold.
"You know I hate it when you call me that," Viktor said.
Nardo laughed while struggling to break free.
They switched to sparring hand-to-hand after that, followed by spellcasting. One focused on speed while the other shielded. After a few minutes, they switched roles.
"It's almost time for breakfast," said Nardo, dispelling his shield.
Viktor put his wand away and headed towards the dormitories. "I will meet you there, I need to wash up."
After a quick wash, Krum sat down at the Dining Hall table next to Hedberg.
"I have a free period today," said Krum, filling his plate with a light fare, "and I plan on getting some flying practice in."
Nardo nodded along, not really listening as he scanned the international newspaper that had been delivered.
Krum flicked the paper. "Anything good?"
Nardo folded the paper while shaking his head. As breakfast wound down, a younger student approached the pair.
"The headmaster wants to meet with you in his office, Viktor."
/\/\/\/\
"Viktor, thank you for coming," said Igor Karkaroff, rising from his chair and gesturing to a seat in front of his desk.
Viktor observed the office as he sat down. The dark stone walls were bare of decoration. A fire crackled quietly to the side, next to a door leading to personal chambers. The chairs around the desk were sturdy and designed to last. The desk was clear personal items, only containing a small stack of parchment and some quills.
"What can I do for you, Headmaster?"
"The English are reviving the Triwizard Tournament," Karkaroff announced
"I don't believe it," grumbled Viktor Krum, international Quidditch star. "Why would they bring it back after two hundred years?"
"It doesn't matter why, just that they are." Karkaroff replied, standing up and pacing. "I would like you compete for Durmstrang."
"That competition has a very high mortality rate," Viktor said, "Didn't they stop it because the judges were injured?"
Igor waved off Krum's last statement, "Eternal Glory awaits the champion along with a thousand Galleons. Hogwarts plans to host this time."
Viktor frowned, "I am already famous, and have no need for money. Why should I compete for Durmstrang?"
"You must understand Viktor." Said Karkaroff, sliding back into the headmaster's chair. "This is Durmstrangs chance to win a Triwizard Tournament. Over a hundred times the school has competed, and not once have we won!"
"I don't care about the stupid tournament," Viktor snapped. "I am already playing in the Quidditch World Cup. The documents are signed for the Bulgarian National Team."
"Yes, quite an accomplishment for one as young as you. Not as interesting as what you achieved last week though," Karkaroff said.
"What do you mean?" asked Krum.
"Blatov told me that he was ambushed by some students, and that you were one of them."
Krum scowled, the headmaster of Durmstrang was ruthless and wouldn't throw out accusations without proof, "The idiot thought putting Grindelwald's mark on his book bag would increase his standing. He should have realized it would stir more hatred than admiration."
"Regardless," Karkaroff said, resting his elbows on his desk and stapling his hands, "you broke the rules. Punishment must be handed out. Lockdown until Christmas should be sufficient."
"NO!" yelled Krum, slamming his fist. "You cannot stop me from playing in the Quidditch World Cup."
"You are still a student of this school," replied Igor, leaning back into his chair, "and I believe your education would suffer if you were to spend too much time away."
"You are rescinding my permission to leave school grounds to play professional Quidditch." Said Krum, breathing heavily. "Unless I compete for Durmstrang in the Triwizard Tournament."
Karkaroff inclined his head, while Krum gritted his teeth.
"Think it over."
/\/\/\/\
Nardo slammed Viktor onto the mat.
"Alright, what's bothering you?" Asked Nardo, helping Viktor to his feet. "This is the fourth time I have floored you."
"The English are reviving the Triwizard Tournament." Replied Viktor, "The Headmaster wants me to compete."
Nardo's eyebrows rose, "Is that all?"
"If I don't compete, Karkaroff will put me in Lockdown until Christmas."
Nardo observed his friend. Viktor had crossed his arms and focused on his gaze on the wall.
"You keep thinking heavy thoughts, and your broom won't be able stay afloat."
Viktor turned to Nardo, "How can I play Quidditch if I die in this tournament?"
Nardo rolled his eyes, "You take your life into your hands every time you step onto a Quidditch pitch. Your broom could fail, a bludger could knock off, or hell, a freak lighting storm could fry you midair."
Viktor chuckled at the last example. The pair abandoned their morning routine headed towards the Dining Hall.
"Point is," Nardo continued, "you are used to danger. At least this time you can use your wand."
"That is true," conceded Viktor, "I have wanted to curse a referee for a bad call more than once."
Having pulled Krum out of his funk, Nardo slapped his shoulder. "You and me both Viktor."
/\/\/\/\
Viktor observed the Headmaster with his arms crossed. Igor Karkaroff stared back, a lockdown form nonchalantly laying on top of the desk.
Karkaroff raised his left eyebrow as the silence reached five minutes. After ten minutes of glowering, Igor picked up a quill.
"I will compete."
Karkaroff smiled, crumpling up the form. "I believe this will be Durmstrang's year."
A/N
House: Ravenclaw
Year: Second
Category: Standard
Prompt: [Setting: Durmstrang Institute]
Word Count: 1014 (Word)
