A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.

Criminology Task 6: Write about a bad, split-second decision

Word Count: 676

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling

Note: I did my best with Krum's accent. Truly, I did.

WARNINGS: Mild violence, concussion

Enjoy!

When Bill opened his eyes, he was momentarily blinded by the light. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting at walls that were much too white. He struggled to sit up, then nearly had a heart attack when a heavily accented voice spoke.

"I vould not do that, if I vere you. You hit your head very hard."

Bill looked over sharply, wincing at the stab of pain the motion sent through his head. At his bedside was a tall, dark-haired man he vaguely recognized, though he couldn't imagine why.

Bill swallowed thickly. "Who—who are you? Where am I?"

The man stuck out a hand, which Bill shook. "My name is Viktor Krum. You are Bill Veasley?"

Bill blinked. "Er. Yes. Where…"

Viktor's dark, thick eyebrows furrowed slightly. "The hospital. Do you remember vot happened?"

Bill thought about it for a moment, struggling to remember. "Er…"

It was dark out, the moon a mere sliver in the sky. The darkness didn't put Bill off, though—he was a confident young man. Unshakeable. Brave.

So, really, when he heard the sound of a muffled scuffle and an accented voice trying desperately to reason with someone, it wasn't much of a surprise that he jumped right in.

Four men in an alley were cornering another. Bill watched the lone man carefully. He looked strong and cut an impressive figure, but clearly didn't stand a chance against his four attackers; there were just too many of them. Two of the men grabbed the victim's arms as another reached towards his pockets.

Bill decided to jump in.

His fist slammed into the side of one bloke's head, eliciting a shout from the man. He turned swiftly towards Bill, a stronger, more practiced punch at the ready. Bill only barely managed to duck, dimly aware that the other three robbers were racing towards him. Arms grabbed onto Bill, pinning him down. He struggled against their grip, but his slight frame wasn't enough to break free. He looked up just in time to see a fist hurtling towards his face, and then—darkness.

"Oh." Bill winced at his own mortification—now that he was seeing him in the light of day (or, rather, the fluorescent lights of the hospital room), he realized that the man he'd tried to rescue was really quite fit. "Yeah, I remember. Hey, did they still end up…"

A small, slightly sarcastic smile crossed Viktor's features. "They took my vallet, yes."

Bill grimaced. "Sorry about that, mate."

Viktor shrugged and scratched the side of his long nose. "There vas nothing vorth stealing in there, anyvay." He hesitated, his dark eyes full of an unrecognizable emotion. "Thank you for helping."

Bill flushed and ran a hand through his long red hair. He flinched when his fingers brushed against a bump on his head. "Some help I was," he murmured. Then he looked up at Viktor. "I should be thanking you. You're the one who called the ambulance?"

Viktor nodded slowly. "Yes. I vas… very vorried. You vere not waking up."

Bill laughed a bit awkwardly. "Right, yeah. Sorry about that—it wasn't my best idea." He mentally kicked himself. All he could do was apologize, it seemed.

To his surprise, Viktor chuckled softly. It was a breathy sound that Bill didn't expect from a man his size; he liked it. "Don't be sorry. I do not regret our meeting."

Before Bill could decipher that, Viktor continued, standing up. "I should be going. Your family vill be here soon—the authorities were able to call them, seeing as those men forgot to steal your vallet." Dark eyes sparkled with mirth. Viktor pulled something out of his pocket and placed it down on the bedside table. "Goodbye, Bill. I hope ve vill meet again soon."

As soon as Viktor was gone and the nurse that had come to check on him was gone, Bill's hand shot out to grab the paper. As he read what was written there, a slow smile spread across his freckled features.

A phone number.

It made the concussion worth it.