Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is
based on Harry Potter and the Goblet of
Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well
as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a
companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)
Something weird happened when I posted Part 4 and it got
posted twice (as Chapters 4 and 5), so I don't think the Author Alert ever went
out properly for Part 5. If you haven't
read that yet, please go read it first, or what follows will make very little
sense. J
Special thanks to Jedi Boadicea and Arabella for talking
me through various parts of this chapter. Thanks also to smoke and Vee for helping with the Latin
translation. For betareading, I give
monstrous thanks once again to Zsenya and Arabella.
Moody
Slavic Man
Part 6:
Rescuing Her
Viktor pushed
open the library doors and moved inside. There she was, at a table with Potter and the other boy. All three of them were bent over thick
books, and didn't look up at the sound of the door swinging shut behind
him. Viktor stood there uncertainly for
a moment, wondering whether he should approach her, and then felt the
librarian's curious stare upon him. He
tore his gaze away from the table and walked quickly over behind a row of
bookshelves, where he didn't feel quite so exposed.
Viktor removed a few books from
a shelf at his eye level so that he could see her table. She was still bent over a book, running her
quill down the page with an absorbed look on her face. He knew that, had he been a bit closer, he
would have seen her lips pursed together in concentration.
Viktor sighed inwardly. He knew he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be bothering her when she was
so busy. But he hadn't had a real talk
with her in weeks, and today, he had just felt…he needed to check on her. Ever since he had realized that she might
have a role in the second task, his Transfiguration practices had been fueled
with a new sense of urgency. The task
would take place the following morning. He knew that it was unlikely she would be in any real danger, but the
thought of her going through anything unpleasant because of his feelings for
her left him with a slightly sick sensation. Maybe he had come here today to reassure her…or maybe he had come to
reassure himself.
Viktor watched as she shut the
book she was holding and got to her feet. She said something to her friends, moved an enormous stack of books to
an empty table, and then set off down a row of bookshelves.
Viktor's heart rose. Maybe he would have a chance to talk to her
after all. He quietly moved to the end
of the aisle and across the back of the library, looking down each row of
bookshelves to see if she was there.
He found her in the very back
corner of the library, in the Charms section. She was halfway down the aisle, standing on her tiptoes and reaching for
a book on the top shelf.
Viktor stepped up behind her
and pulled the book from the shelf. She
spun around quickly and crashed into him, losing her balance. Instinctively, Viktor grasped her arm to
steady her. She looked up at him with a
startled expression, then straightened quickly and took a small step backwards.
Viktor let go of her arm
reluctantly. It had been an oddly
thrilling sensation, having her lean against him like that; it made him think
of dancing with her at the Yule Ball.
She was looking at him now,
waiting for him to speak, and Viktor struggled for something normal to
say. Then he remembered the book in his
hand, and offered it to her. "Your
book," he said, attempting a smile. He
wished, for a moment, that he could handle these sorts of awkward situations
the way Pashnik did, with an easy grin and a joke.
"Oh! Thanks!" she said a bit breathlessly, taking the book from him
and staring down at it. He wondered
briefly at her choice of reading material—Hexes That Perplex Us? What on earth was she studying?—but then he
glanced at the top of her head, all that was visible as she continued to look
down at the book in her hands, and he remembered why he was here. He had to let her know, somehow, that she
was going to be fine—that, no matter what happened the next morning, he would
come for her.
But he didn't know how to
begin. Finally, he burst out, "I have
missed our talks."
She fidgeted slightly, then
looked up at him. "Well, you know," she said, "I've been really busy with
schoolwork…Ron and Harry too…"
Viktor frowned; this wasn't
going the way he'd planned at all. He
glanced at the window. It was a bright,
clear afternoon. Maybe if he took her
for a walk around the lake…maybe if he got her out of this place, then they
could really talk.
Viktor took a deep breath and
looked her in the eye. "It is a
beautiful afternoon," he said, his voice low. "Would you like to go for a walk
with me?"
She looked startled, and
glanced back along the row of bookshelves—back, Viktor realized, to where her
friends were sitting. "Er…no, I'm
sorry, I can't. We...I mean, I've got
so much work to do, I really can't right now…maybe another time?" Her tone was genuinely apologetic, but
Viktor couldn't help frowning. How was
he ever going to tell her what he needed to say?
He found himself nodding,
saying, "Of course. Another time." He hadn't wanted to say this at all, but he
couldn't seem to help giving her whatever she wanted.
She gave him a half-smile. "Well, see you later then," she said,
turning away from him. Viktor watched
her with a sinking feeling as she went down the aisle and around the corner. How did he ever think he was going to succeed
at this task, when he couldn't even tell her what he had come to say? He stood staring at the place where she had
disappeared, then turned and made his way along the back wall of the library,
emerging from behind the row of bookshelves where he had watched the table
earlier. He saw her sitting once again
at the table with her friends. He
caught her eye and nodded, and received a brief smile in return. In spite of himself, he felt a sudden warmth
flow through him at the smile, even though she looked away quickly as Potter
spoke up and drew her attention onto himself.
Viktor scowled and exited the
library. He moved down the corridor,
toward the castle doors. Now what was
he supposed to do? He had been sure
that seeing her would alleviate his nerves, but now he only felt worse. He hadn't managed to really talk with her at
all. But he knew that her schoolwork
was important to her—after all, wasn't that one of the things that had
attracted him to her in the first place? But what could be so important today? He felt a small flash of resentment. What had she and her friends been working on, that she couldn't
even take a short break to spend some time with him? After all, he had been focused on nothing but preparing
for this task, to save her…
Viktor froze on the stone steps
outside the castle. Had she been
helping Potter? Was that the
reason she had been working so hard lately, and had been so eager to get back
to her friends?
Viktor shook his head and
continued walking, disgusted with himself for thinking such a thing. She would never cheat—he knew that. In fact, he thought with a wince, he
sincerely hoped she would never find out about the warning he had received from
Karkaroff before the first task. He
felt sure she would never approve.
Perhaps it is better that I
could not talk to her properly, he
thought. Perhaps she would consider
even that much cheating…
But that still didn't lessen
the sick feeling in his stomach as he thought of her, taken by the merpeople
for him to rescue. There had to be a
way he could reassure her without saying too much.
He would write to her, he
decided as he reached his cabin. He
would tell her what he needed to say, without giving away specifics. Yes, that would work.
Viktor pulled out
a piece of parchment and a quill, and sat down at his desk. The quill hovered over the parchment for
several minutes as he thought, and then he finally began writing.
Dear Hermione,
I am writing to tell
you that everything will be fine. No
matter what happens, I will come for you. Do not worry.
He agonized for a bit over the
signature before finally writing
Love,
He planned to tell her all
those things after the second task anyway, he reasoned. What difference would it make to say that
now?
Viktor rolled up the parchment
and took it up on deck to the ship's small Owlery, an open pavilion where the
owls liked to shelter. He found one of
his own owls, a large gray one, and tied the parchment to its leg. "Urgent," he muttered, "Take it right away."
The owl gave him a piercing
look, and then took flight. Rather than
setting a straight course for the castle, the owl soared up toward the topmast
and circled in the breeze. Probably
just enjoying stretching its wings, Viktor thought. He could understand that. He thought of his many missed morning
flights with a pang, and resolved to get up early and fly the next morning
before the task. He was as prepared as
he could be. He was ready. Smiling, he pictured himself pulling her
from the water, and her looking at him gratefully. He would ask her to visit him in Bulgaria tomorrow. He would tell her exactly how he felt.
*************************************
The water in the lake was
murky—Viktor didn't remember it ever being so murky during his practice sessions. But he was doing fine. He had managed the transformation without
any problems, and was now slicing through the water towards the center of the
lake. He couldn't see any of the other
champions anywhere.
A shape loomed up ahead of him,
and, as he moved closer, he saw that it was a rock formation that jutted
straight up out of the lake bottom like a sword. It was almost like a signpost, except that there were no signs
telling him which way to go. Viktor
paused, allowing his shark body to sink a bit in the water as he
considered. Which way should he go now?
And then he heard it,
unmistakable and clear. A voice. Her voice. "Viktor!" she called distantly from his right. "Viktor!"
Viktor sped off to the right of
the rock towards the sound. She was
there—he had to find her. He cut through the water smoothly, heading directly
for the sound drawing him on. Her voice
rang through the water, calling his name over and over again.
The sound seemed so close now,
yet he didn't see her. Where was she? He turned around frantically, straining the
shark's tiny eyes in all directions. And then he looked straight down.
He could just make her out,
inside what looked like an enormously deep pit in the lake bottom. She was standing and waving to him, beckoning
him wildly. Viktor dived down to her,
and saw, as he approached, that two other figures were with her. Her two friends. Of course. They were
never far away, it seemed. The two boys
were sitting on a rock, chatting unconcernedly and not seeming to even notice
that they were underwater.
She beamed at him as he swam
down next to her. "You came!" she said
delightedly. "I wanted to show you this
new spell I learned. It's a love charm." She pulled an enormous book out from
her robes and began flipping through the pages.
"Hermione," said Viktor,
knowing he was pronouncing it correctly this time. "We need to leave." He
didn't know how he managed to speak in the shark's form, but she seemed to understand
him. She looked up at him and smiled.
"All right," she said, turning
to her friends. "Come on, we're
leaving." The two boys stood up and
came to stand next to her, looking at Viktor expectantly.
Viktor looked from her to her
friends uncertainly. She smiled at him
again. "You'll have to take all three
of us," she said sweetly.
Viktor reached out his fins and
put them around her, but they had become arms now. He lifted her and began swimming. The two boys grabbed his tail as he swam up out of the pit,
weighing him down. Involuntary, he jerked,
remembered the Grindylow he had encountered in his practice session. One of the boys slipped and floated back
down into the pit. She shrieked in his
ear. Viktor jerked again, not meaning
to—or did he?—and the second boy went spiraling off through the water, back
down into the pit.
"No!" she screamed, beating her
fists against him. "Go back! We have to go back! I'll miss them the most!" And she tore herself out of his grasp,
diving back into the pit toward the boys.
Viktor called out her name, but
no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't pronounce it right. She dove without looking back, ignoring his
calls, until she was completely lost to his sight.
He looked down and saw a book
in his hands, the one she had pulled from her robes. The cover was dark and slimy. He wiped away the grime, and read the gilt lettering: Amicitia
Amoris Certissima Pars. He stared
at it the phrase, sure that he knew what it meant, and yet unable to decipher
it.
Viktor sat up in bed with a
jolt. The barest hint of dawn was
shining in through the portholes. Viktor struggled to hold on to the images in his dream, but they slipped
away before he could fix them in his memory. He was left with an inexplicable feeling of unease as he turned over and
fell back into a shallow sleep.
**********************************
Viktor eyed the platters of
eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of him with disgust. He felt quite certain that he would not be
able to eat a thing this morning. He
had wakened early to spend some time flying, thinking that it would calm his
nerves, but he still felt tense and anxious. This was much worse than any pre-match nerves he had ever experienced
playing Quidditch.
"The day has arrived!" sang out
a familiar voice, and Pashnik dropped into the chair next to him. Edina was right behind Pashnik, and sat down
on his other side. The two of them had
been nearly inseparable ever since Pashnik had sent her elaborate bunches of
flowers and singing fairies during every one of her classes on Valentine's Day.
Viktor sighed, reminding
himself that he really must stop leaving empty seats next to him at the table.
Pashnik leaned over to him
conspiratorially. "Nervous?" he said in
a mock-serious tone. Viktor merely gave
him a look. Pashnik grinned and started
piling food on his plate.
Viktor looked at the sausages
again, wondering if he could manage to eat one without throwing up. He heard his mother's voice in his head: Viktor,
eat! You need your strength! He knew it was true.
At that moment, Edina looked up
from the whispered conversation she had been having with Pashnik and said,
"Viktor, eat something! You need a good breakfast today."
Viktor stared at her in
surprise. She rarely, if ever, spoke to
him, so hearing an order like that was especially odd. It was almost as if his mother was speaking
to him through Edina.
Edina, however, was holding out
a platter to him with an expectant, almost fierce, expression on her face, so
Viktor thought it best to take a few slices of toast without complaint. Edina nodded in satisfaction, and Viktor saw
Pashnik grinning at her.
Viktor chewed his toast
thoughtfully as the two of them returned to their hushed conversation. The noise in the Great Hall was mounting
steadily, and there was a palpable excitement in the air. Viktor wished he could share in it.
He looked over at the
Gryffindor table, but she wasn't there. Viktor's stomach knotted, though he had known that she wouldn't be
there, hadn't he? His eyes swept the
length of the Gryffindor table, and he noted with dismay that Potter and the
red-haired boy appeared to be absent as well. For some reason, this fact made him uneasy. Something niggled at the back of his brain—what was it?
"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed
the Hogwarts Headmaster's voice from the front of the hall. Viktor looked down and realized that the
plates had wiped themselves clean. He
stuffed the last bit of toast he was holding into his mouth and turned to face
Dumbledore with everyone else.
"In a few moments, it will be
time for us to go watch the second task of the Triwizard Tournament." A storm of cheering and clapping greeted
this announcement. Dumbledore waited
for it to subside. "I must now ask the champions to follow Mr. Bagman down to
the site of the task. If you would, Mr.
Krum, Miss Delacour, Mr. Diggory, Mr. Potter—" Dumbledore's eyes fell on the
Gryffindor table, and he frowned slightly. No one else seemed to notice this, as they were too busy applauding the
three champions who were making their way to the back of the hall.
Viktor tried to ignore all the
people watching him as he approached Mr. Bagman, who was beaming at the three
of them. Mr. Bagman led the champions
out into the Entrance Hall, talking all the way.
"…this is exciting, isn't
it? This is going to be a show, no
doubt of that. Now, now, where is
Harry?" He stopped and looked around
expectantly, as though he thought one of them was hiding Potter in their robes. No one said anything. Fleur Delacour looked around with a haughty
smile, while Diggory looked slightly concerned.
Bagman's face fell. "Well," he said, now sounding distracted,
"well…I suppose we'll just have to go down there…perhaps he'll turn up…" He turned and led the three of them out
through the front doors and down toward the lake. They passed the Durmstrang ship and continued around to where the
lake widened. Enormous stands had been
set up for the spectators, and Viktor idly wondered what, if anything, the
crowd would be able to see during the task. Bagman stopped in front of a gold-draped table with several benches set
up next to it.
"I see that none of you are
surprised to find yourselves here," said Bagman with a chuckle, looking around
at them. "I take it you all worked out
the clues in your golden eggs. But I
think we will have a surprise for each of you today."
Viktor clenched his jaw, more
certain than ever that he had been correct about what had been taken. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair and
gave Bagman an indulgent smile. "Meester Bagman, don't be silly. We know what we are doing."
Viktor looked over at Diggory,
who was watching the lake with a serious expression. He wondered briefly whether any of the other champions had come
to the same conclusion he had.
Bagman took out a large gold
pocket watch decorated with a raised wasp on the front and opened it. "The judges and the spectators will be here
in a few minutes. We'll go over the
instructions before the task starts. Now, where is Mr. Potter?" Bagman wandered off, muttering under his breath.
Fleur Delacour seated herself
on one of the benches and idly twirled her wand between her fingers. Diggory
looked over at Viktor and grinned.
"Nice of him to give us so much
information," he said, nodding toward Bagman's retreating back. Viktor nodded in response. Diggory frowned. "I wonder where Harry is, though," he said. "It's weird that he's not here."
Viktor grunted. He didn't much care where Potter was, as
long as he wasn't—Viktor felt another prickle of unease, and pushed it away with
a frown. He became aware that Diggory
was giving him an odd look, and he straightened up and cast around for
something to say.
"I heard about the
Transfiguration you did during the first task," said Viktor. "I was told that you did well."
Fleur Delacour stopped twirling
her wand and flashed a dazzling smile at Diggory. "I heard zat it was vairy impressive," she purred, causing
Diggory to turn pink.
"Well, it didn't work as well
as it could have," he said to Viktor. "Not like you with the Conjunctivitis Curse—I wish I had thought of
that—or Harry on his broomstick…oh look, here they come!" Diggory pointed up toward the castle.
Viktor turned and saw masses of
people coming toward the lake. He
realized with a jolt that he should be preparing. He stretched his arms high above his head, the way he did before
matches, hoping it would help alleviate the sick feeling in his stomach. It didn't.
People were pouring into the
stands now, and the sound of the crowd was almost deafening. Viktor saw the judges taking their places at
the table with the golden cloth. Karkaroff was eyeing him with an inscrutable expression. Viktor looked away quickly and began taking
off his robes. He was wearing his swim
trunks underneath.
Viktor could still feel Karkaroff's
eyes on him as he folded his robes and placed them on the bench, but a moment
later, his attention was diverted by Bagman. The round-faced man hurried forward, muttering something about Potter
under his breath, then tapped his throat with his wand, saying "Sonorus!" His voice blared out across the lake, and
the crowds in the stands quieted to listen.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman
bellowed. "Welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament! Our champions are in for a real challenge
today! As you may remember, each
champion obtained a golden egg in the first task. Inside each of those eggs was the clue to the second task. Today we will see just how well each champion
deciphered the clues and prepared for the task!" The crowd cheered with excitement, and Bagman smiled broadly
before going on. "Each champion's task
is very specific: to take back what was taken from him or her by the merpeople,
the thing that each champion will miss the most. I will now announce what each champion must retrieve."
Viktor shifted slightly. He hadn't realized that Bagman was going to
announce this in front of everyone, though he supposed he should have. The man seemed to adore drama of all
kinds. Viktor glanced at the other two
champions beside him, wondering if they realized what was coming.
"Miss Delacour,"
Bagman pronounced, "will be attempting to rescue her sister, Gabrielle
Delacour." Fleur Delacour stared at
Bagman in horror, her earlier composure completely lost. Bagman continued, "Mr. Diggory will be
attempting to rescue fellow Hogwarts student Cho Chang." The crowd, which had previously lapsed into
a sort of shocked silence, now burst into giggles and catcalls. Diggory, however, was looking at Bagman
blankly, as though he didn't believe what he was hearing. "Mr. Krum," Bagman went on, "will be
attempting to rescue Hogwarts student Hermione Granger."
Even though he had known it,
even though he had figured it out ten days ago, Viktor insides still gave a
lurch to hear it announced like that. Viktor nodded and stared down at his wand, trying to ignore the "ooohs"
and "awwws" coming from the stands, as well as the piercing look that he knew
that Karkaroff was directing at him.
It was something of a relief
when Bagman continued. "And Mr.
Potter," he said, looking around hopelessly, "if he should decide to join
us…er…yes, well, perhaps he'll turn up. Anyway, Mr. Potter will be attempting to rescue fellow Hogwarts student
Ronald Weasley." The crowd really did
go wild at this, bursting into laughter and even more boisterous catcalls. Bagman raised his hand, and the sound died
out. "Right then, well, each champion
will have to rescue his or her hostage in—" Viktor cringed at the choice of
word. "Oh, I say, what's this?" said
Bagman suddenly. "Oh, right-oh, it's
Mr. Potter!"
Viktor turned to
see Potter sprinting down the wide sloping lawn toward the lake. His robes billowed out behind him, and his
hair was sticking up at odd angles. He
looked like he had just woken up.
"Quietus," Bagman
muttered behind Viktor as Potter came to a stop, splattering mud everywhere.
One of the judges—the one
taking Mr. Crouch's place—said something to Potter that Viktor didn't
catch. He was too busy trying to figure
out why he felt relieved to see Potter there. Viktor frowned to himself. What
was wrong with him this morning?
He didn't have time to dwell on
it, however, as Bagman was now directing the champions to stand at intervals
along the bank. Viktor took a deep
breath and held his wand ready. He knew
he could do this. He had to.
Bagman tapped his throat with
his wand again, saying "Sonorus." His magically magnified voice rang out over the lake once more.
"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my
whistle. They have precisely an hour to
recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…two…three!"
And the whistle sounded through
the cold morning air. The crowd's
cheering faded as Viktor plunged into the lake, the icy water clearing his mind
immediately. He knew what he had to do,
and he was determined to do it.
Viktor swam out a little way,
surfaced, and then turned his wand on himself. "Mutare
Pistrix!" he said, concentrating with all his might. He held his breath for a moment, then with
relief felt the familiar lengthening of his head. He heard gasps coming from the stands, but they faded quickly as
he plunged his head back under the water. He tucked his wand into the waistband of his swimming trunks—he had
learned, after the incident with the Grindylow, not to let go of it so
easily. His legs and arms were snapping
to his sides now, smoothing into the shark's sleek body. He had done it.
Viktor felt a wave of triumph as he plunged forward
through the water. Now, he only had to
find the mer-village. He had done some
research, and had decided that the village must lie far out near the part of
the lake that skirted the Forbidden Forest. He headed in that direction, letting the shark's heightened senses guide
him through the water.
He swam through what looked like an underwater meadow,
filled with some green weed. He could
see a few Grindylows moving far below him, but none of them approached. If Viktor still had his tongue, he would
have stuck it out at them as he passed overhead. His heart felt lighter than it had all morning.
Viktor continued swimming in a straight line, passing
over a wide muddy plain. Here and there
glittering stones winked up at him from the much-covered bottom. Schools of silver fish scattered as he
approached.
Suddenly a long tentacle came out of nowhere and wrapped
around his middle. Viktor found himself
being turned this way and that through the water. He caught a glimpse of two enormous green eyes, and knew
immediately that he had fallen into the clutches of the giant squid.
Viktor had never seen the creature before, but he had
heard about it. Draco Malfoy had held
forth for an entire meal about the dangers of the giant squid, warning the
Durmstrang students to stay away from it. Supposedly, it had eaten an unfortunate first-year student the year
before. At the time, Viktor had been
doubtful about these claims, but now, in the creature's grip, he believed every
word.
He had to get to his wand, and the only way to do that
was to transform back. He focused his
concentration as best he could while being spun through the water like a
top. Slowly, his back fins turned into
feet. Then he could feel his legs
emerging, and the change moved up his body with rapid tingle. His stomach and chest were back to normal
now, and he could feel his wand in the waistband of his swimming trunks where
he had left it. The squid's tentacles
were squeezing it against his ribs. He
struggled to stop the transformation there, knowing that he would be unable to
breathe without the shark's head and gills. Professor McGonagall had told his class that partial Transfiguration was
much more difficult once you had managed the full version; it required
incredible discipline of thought to picture the transfiguration only until the part
you wanted changed had finished, and not the whole thing. It was something like the old saying, "Don't
think about pink Erumpents"—once the listener heard this, it was difficult to
think of anything else.
Viktor struggled to picture anything else aside from
himself turning back to normal. This
job was made much easier a moment later, as the squid brought another tentacle
to his stomach. Viktor realized
suddenly that the thing was tickling him. He writhed in its grasp, trying to get away from the relentless
sensation, but the squid held him tightly. Had he been on land relying on his normal manner of breathing, Viktor
knew that he would be gasping with laughter. But the shark's gills continued to draw oxygen from the water passing
through them, and it was this that allowed Viktor the strength to slide his
wand out and point it at the squid.
"Relashio!" he shouted—or at least, he tried to
shout it, but all that came out was a small bubble. It had some effect, however, as a jet of water shot out of his
wand and hit the tentacle that was tickling him. The squid dropped him--more, it seemed, out of surprise than
pain. Viktor kicked hard at the water,
attempting to rise up and away from the monstrous creature, but it wrapped
another slimy tentacle around his foot. Viktor writhed again as the thing tickled the bottom of his foot. He aimed his wand at the thing's head this
time and sent another jet of water at it. The creature shuddered and let go, then it wrapped its long tentacles
around its head and floated away through the water. It reminded Viktor of nothing so much as a child pouting after
being deprived a favorite plaything.
Viktor quickly swam in the opposite direction until he
could no longer see the squid. He
stopped and circled in the water, now completely uncertain of where he
was. He had no idea which direction he
had been heading in before his encounter with the squid, and he knew that was
the direction he needed to find again. Below him was the vast muddy plain, with no landmarks to tell him which
way to turn. He saw a few Plimpies
prowling the lake bottom. One of them
was bouncing along, its web-footed legs tied in a knot, and Viktor's heart rose
a little. Merpeople were the only ones
who dealt with Plimpies in that manner; he couldn't be far from the mer-village
now.
But he still had no idea which way to go. He circled uncertainly once more, than
randomly chose a direction. He was sure
that at least half his time was up, and he had to do something.
A dark shape loomed up ahead. Viktor swam closer to it, an inexplicable flutter in his stomach,
and made out a sword-like rocky formation rearing up from the lake bottom. Viktor stared at it, knowing that he had
seen it before and wondering where. Had
it been pictured in one of the books he had read about the lake? He looked to the left and right of the
formation, and, as his eyes fell on the right path, his dream came back to him
clearly. Her voice had called to him
from that side. This was the way he
supposed to go.
Viktor shot forward, heart pounding as the rest of the
dream came into sharp focus in his mind. She had been there, with her friends, and he had tried to get her out,
but he had failed. Viktor swam faster
now, half-expecting to see the pit from his dream ahead of him at any second,
but all he saw was a huge rock with paintings of merpeople on it. Diggory was up ahead of him, passing the
rock coming from another direction. Diggory saw him, and waved and grinned, his features appearing stretched
out because of the Bubble-Head Charm he had employed.
Viktor scowled inwardly as Diggory disappeared around the
rock. He had been foolish not to use
that charm himself. No, instead, he had
concentrated only on doing something wildly impressive, something that would get
her attention. But no matter how
impressive that bit of Transfiguration may be, it wouldn't matter if he didn't
find her and get her out of here soon. He had been stupid, really, not to realize the danger of being without
his wand under the lake's surface. If
he hadn't been so determined to do the shark Transfiguration, perhaps the giant
squid wouldn't have held him up so long. But at least he only had the shark's head now, and that seemed to be
serving the same purpose as the Bubble-Head Charm. It was too late to change now, at any rate.
Viktor was level with the large rock now, and he could
see that the pictures showed spear-carrying merpeople chasing the giant
squid. I hope they catch it one day,
he thought sourly as he swam past.
Mer-song was filling his ears now, a haunting, lonely
sound. He realized with a start that
the eerie voices were chanting the song from the egg, with new words added.
"…your time's near gone, so tarry not,
Viktor tried to ignore the twisting feeling in his
stomach and plunged ahead through the gloom, following the sound. He found himself surrounded by crude stone
caves. Algae were everywhere. As he swam past, he saw merpeople darting
into their stone dwellings and scattering out of his way.
A painful screeching rose up as Viktor entered what
looked like the center of the village. Crowds of merpeople were floating all around, and the singing chorus
held the central position. A huge
statue of a merperson loomed up behind them. It would have been an amazing sight, had Viktor not seen what floated
gently against the tail of the stone statue.
There she was, limp and unmoving except for the gentle
sway of the water. As he sped toward
her, he saw that she was bound tightly against the statue by thick ropes of
weed. His heart contracted sharply to
see her there, unconscious and helpless, waiting for him to rescue her.
And then he noticed the others. A little blonde girl was bound on one side of her. The red-haired boy was floating below the
statue, a few inches from the lake bottom. He looked unconscious as well. Potter was treading water next to the statue, watching Viktor
expectantly.
The sight of her two friends there was unexpectedly
unnerving, but Viktor swallowed the sour taste that had risen in his mouth and
swam straight to her, afire with a new urgency to get her away from this
place.
It is not the same, he told himself fiercely,
pushing away the lingering memory of his dream. He snapped at the ropes, determined to sever them as quickly as
possible, but shark teeth were clearly not designed for this sort of
thing.
Viktor jumped as something hit him hard on the
shoulder. He turned to see Potter
floating directly behind him, holding up a jagged-edge stone. Viktor grabbed the stone and began sawing
away at the rope. It was very
effective; a few seconds later she was free. Dropping the stone, he seized her around the middle and swam quickly
toward the surface. He didn't dare look
back, as he half-expected to feel Potter and the red-haired boy grabbing his
feet, as they had grabbed the shark's tail in his dream. But he felt nothing of the sort, and the odd
twisting in his stomach abated somewhat as the light from the surface became
visible. He heaved her up the last few
feet and her head broke the surface. He
followed a moment later, his ears filled with the riotous sounds of the
crowd.
He trod water, watching her face anxiously. She was definitely breathing—he could feel
her warm breath against his face. But
her eyes were still closed and her face was oddly slack. Viktor shifted to keep his grip on her, and,
as he did so, her eyes snapped open. She stared straight ahead of her at the packed stands for a moment, then
turned her head to face him.
Immediately she began screaming and pushing at his chest,
the way she had done in his dream. Viktor's first instinct was to hold on more tightly to her, so that she
couldn't fall away into the dark water. She screamed louder and struggled in his grasp, staring at his face, and
Viktor realized that she was shocked because of his shark head. Immediately he let go. She pushed herself backward, staring at him
in horror, and some of the teachers pulled her out of the lake.
Viktor swam to the shallows and emerged from the water as
the school nurse wrapped her—Hermione, he told himself, though he
wondered if he was even pronouncing it correctly in his head—in a thick
blanket. This thought brought his dream
back to him once more, but he pushed it away as he pulled out his wand and
muttered "Finite Incantatum." He
felt the chilly air in his lungs as the shark's head gave way to his own, less
impressive one. He thought mournfully
of how he had expected her to be impressed and astounded by his Transfiguration
prowess. That had certainly not turned
out as he had intended.
"Come with me,
we'll get you warmed up now," said the nurse's voice behind him. He followed her over to the bench near the
judges' table. Diggory and a
dark-haired girl were sitting at one end, wrapped in blankets and beaming at
one another. And there she was,
further along the bench, wrapped in her blanket and looking at him with an
expression he couldn't quite read. The
nurse pushed him down beside her and draped a blanket around his shoulders.
"Drink it!" the nurse ordered,
pushing mugs of Pepper-Up Potion into their hands. "It will warm you up." Viktor sipped at his, watching as his
companion drank steadily. He felt a tug
of guilt; it was his fault, really, that she was in this situation in the first
place. He hoped that the cold air
wouldn't make her ill.
She drained her cup, steam
pouring from her ears, and handed it to the nurse, who nodded approvingly. Viktor finished his quickly and did the
same. He watched the nurse move off down
the bench to check on Diggory and the other girl. This was his chance. Maybe things hadn't gone quite as he had hoped so far, but the fact
remained that he had rescued her from the merpeople. Besides, it was no use hiding his feelings now, now that Bagman
had announced that she was the thing he would miss the most. The time for hesitation was past. It was time to say the things he had wanted
to say to her on Valentine's Day, and he would never have a better chance than
he did right now, while everyone else was absorbed in watching the rest of the
task.
"Where are
they?" she said from his left—the first thing he had heard her say since
emerging from the water. "What's taking them so long? Do you think they've been
attacked?" She was staring out anxiously
over the lake.
Viktor followed her gaze with a frown. "They
were coming right behind us," he said. He glanced over at the judges' table to see Karkaroff watching him, eyes
cold and hard. Viktor looked away
quickly, and determinedly seized one of her hands, pulling her further along
the bench out of earshot of the others. She gave him a startled look.
He looked back
at her and took a deep breath. This was
it. "Hermione," he said softly, still
holding her hand in his own. He was
acutely aware of the wisps of steam still coming out of his ears from the
Pepper-Up Potion, but he plunged ahead anyway. "I was wondering...if you are
not doing anything this summer...if you might like to come visit me in
Bulgaria."
She stared at him for a long moment, not saying
anything. This silence made him
inexplicably nervous, and he looked down at their hands as he went on. "I want you to know that I have never felt
this way about any other girl..." But this wasn't what he really wanted to say,
and he knew it. Say it, he told
himself. He looked up at her again,
drawing his strength from her warm brown eyes. He took another deep breath. "Hermione, I love you."
But a sudden roar from the crowd drowned out these
words, and he wasn't even sure if she heard them. She whipped around to face the lake, pulling her hand from his,
and Viktor felt suddenly empty. He
turned shakily and saw that Fleur Delacour was being pulled from the lake,
sobbing hysterically. The Beauxbatons
headmistress ran forward and carried her over to the bench, but Fleur
immediately tried to go back to the water, screaming all the time, "Gabrielle!
Gabrielle!". Madame Maxime seized the
girl around the waist and kept her forcibly from going back to the water.
"Where's Harry?" said an anxious voice from his
left, and Viktor turned to see her staring out over the lake, a worried
expression on her face and her hands twisting in her lap. A water-beetle was lodged in her hair, but
he had no desire to tell her so at the moment. Would she be this worried over him?, he wondered. Or would it always be Potter who came first
in her mind?
Out in the middle of the lake, a number of green
heads appeared, with a black one at their center. A moment later, two more heads emerged from the water. Next to him, he heard an enormous sigh of
relief. But Viktor didn't even want to
turn his head now. He watched as Potter
was pulled from the water and led over to the bench. The nurse pushed him down on her other side and made him
drink some potion.
"Harry, well done!" she was saying. "You did it, you found out how, all by
yourself!" Viktor wondered for a moment
what she was talking about, but he realized suddenly that he must have been
right about her not helping Potter. A
sudden warmth spread through him; he did know her, after all.
"You have a water-beetle in your hair, Hermione,"
he said, putting his hand on her back and interrupting her conversation with
Potter.
She glanced at him and brushed the bug away
quickly, then continued to talk to Potter. Viktor frowned to himself. It
was nearly impossible to talk to her when she was around her friends. Especially Potter. Viktor fell into a sulky silence as he waited for the scores to
be announced.
**************************
Viktor stared at the ceiling of the hospital
wing. The nurse had insisted that all
of the champions and the hostages—Viktor still found himself wincing at the
word, even now that the task was over—come here as soon as the scores had been
announced. She had insisted on dry
clothes and one last checkup before she would allow them to join the other
students for lunch.
Third. He
had come in third in the task, with only forty points. The only person who had received fewer
points had been Fleur Delacour, and she had not even retrieved her sister. "An incomplete form of Transfiguration,'
Bagman had said. Viktor should have
protested, he knew. He should have told
them that he had managed the complete change, and why it hadn't worked
as well. But that would be the sort of
thing Karkaroff would do. And
besides, thought Viktor, looking over at the curly-haired figure in the bed
to his right, the score is not what really matters anyway.
Potter had come in ahead of him, of course. Potter had gotten extra points for making
sure that everyone made it to the surface safely. He hadn't gotten full marks though—Viktor felt sure that
Karkaroff had been the reason behind that.
Viktor wondered briefly if he should have waited
down there too. He had to admit that he
had been more than relieved to leave Potter and the red-haired boy there at the
bottom of the lake. She had
certainly seemed impressed enough by Potter's actions. Viktor had tried to talk to her again after
the scores had been announced, but she hadn't stopped clapping for Potter long
enough to listen. So he had followed
her in silence as she chattered with her friends on the way up to the hospital
wing.
"You may go, dear," said the nurse to the figure in
the bed next to him, and he turned his head to see her sitting up with a
smile. She wasn't looking at him,
however; she was looking in the direction of Potter and the red-haired boy, who
were standing by the door, waiting for her.
"Come on! Lunch has already started. I'm
starving!" said the red-haired boy.
"You make it sound as if you were the one doing all
the work, instead of sleeping," she replied in a tone of easy familiarity.
Viktor stared at her as she got up off the
bed. Was she really going to leave,
just like that, without saying a word to him? Hadn't she heard anything he had said to her by the lake?
Their eyes met as she stood, and she froze for a
moment. Then she turned to her friends
and said, "You two go on. I'll meet you
down there." Her tone was casual, but
Viktor could see her hands tugging unnecessarily at her robes. Viktor smiled to himself as the two boys
left. Perhaps he had a chance after
all.
But once the nurse had declared him fit to leave,
and she had followed him out into the corridor, he found that he didn't
know what to say. What could he say, really,
that hadn't already been said? And it
had been hard enough to bring those things up the first time—how on earth was
he supposed to do it again? The two of
them walked along corridors and down staircases wrapped in an awkward silence,
and Viktor felt his chance slipping away as they got nearer and nearer to the
Great Hall. He had to do something.
Finally, on the first floor, he steeled himself and
turned to face her. "I meant what I
said earlier," he said, his voice lower than he had intended. She stopped and turned to face him slowly,
trepidation in her eyes. Viktor knew
they couldn't stay here, in the middle of the corridor. He grasped her hand and pulled her into an
empty classroom.
He turned to face her again, taking a deep
breath. "We were interrupted earlier. I
wanted to know if you would like to come to Bulgaria this summer?" He stared into her face, feeling suddenly
that his ability to breathe might be dependent upon her response.
She looked away. "I don't know," she said. "I don't
know if my parents would let me."
Viktor nodded impatiently, knowing that this was
not the point. "But if they agree," he said, "would you want to
come?" He searched her face, as though
this would give him the answer he wanted to hear.
"Well," she said, still not looking at him, her
voice unusually high-pitched, "I'm sure it would be a fascinating place to
visit, and learn about the history..."
Viktor
frowned. She still didn't seem to
understand. Or was she being
deliberately dense? He couldn't tell. "I would
like to show my country to you," he said slowly. "I would like my family to
meet you." He looked into her face,
waiting for her to look at him, not daring to hope about what he might see
there when she did.
Finally she looked up at him, her eyes uncertain,
and she gasped sharply as their eyes met. This gave him a small measure of hope, and he reached out to tuck a
stray lock of hair behind her ear, as he had longed to do so often in the
library. Her eyes softened as they continued to look into his.
"You are very special, Hermione," he said
softly. "When I saw you at the bottom of the lake, unconscious, I was
frightened. I would never let anything happen to you."
He took a step closer, drawn forward by the new
expression on her face, one he had only ever imagined seeing there before. Surely this had to be a dream. He moved his hands up her arms and rested
them lightly on her shoulders, then bent forward to kiss her.
Before their lips met, however, she turned her head
sharply and took a step backward. "I'm
sorry…I can't…" she murmured.
Viktor also took a step backward, his hands falling
back to his sides. He stared at her,
unable to keep the hurt from showing on his face. He didn't know what to say. He had thought…
"Viktor," she said shakily, "I'm sorry...I didn't
mean..." She took a deep breath. "Look, I really like spending time with you,
but...this is too much for me. You're so much older than I am...I'm not ready
for this."
Viktor stared at her, seeing for the first time a
fourteen-year-old girl in front of him. He had known that he was older than she was, of course, but he had never
realized that this had bothered her. "I
am sorry," he said. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, Hermione." He frowned as he mangled her name
again.
She smiled up at him awkwardly. "It's alright," she said, and Viktor knew it
wasn't. He stared at her, struggling
for something to say. She looked back
at him, seeming as lost for words as he was.
A long moment passed. Then a noise from the corridor outside told him that the other
champions were on their way down to lunch. He heard a child's voice speaking very quickly in French.
"Come on, we're missing lunch," she
said. Viktor looked at her again, but
she wasn't meeting his eyes now. He
felt that he should say something else. He didn't want to leave now, didn't want to leave things like this. But she was exiting the classroom, and he
had no choice but to follow her.
They made their way down to the Great Hall in
silence, an almost physical sense of awkwardness hanging in the air between
them. They went through the heavy doors
and stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at one another. Viktor had no idea what to say. He didn't know how to improve the situation,
and neither, apparently, did she.
"See you later," she finally said, a note of forced
cheer in her tone. Viktor nodded,
overwhelmed by a wave of sudden disappointment, and turned toward the Slytherin
table.
He took a seat at the far end of the table, aware
of the eyes of half the hall on him. He
tried to ignore the looks as he piled potatoes on his plate. He did this more to have something to do
than because he was really hungry; despite the fact that he had barely eaten
any breakfast and had spent over an hour in the lake, Viktor felt quite certain
that he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. In fact, he felt rather as if he was going to be sick at any moment.
"Where's your lovely lady?" crowed Pashnik, coming
up behind Viktor and tugging on the back of his robes. "Shouldn't you go sit near her? Don't you miss her?"
"Go to hell, Pashnik," Viktor snapped, pushing the
smaller boy away roughly. Pashnik
stared at him for a moment in surprise, then grinned and, "Love does strange
things to the mind." Viktor reddened and glared at him as he returned to his
seat next to Edina. A few of the
Slytherins laughed, though some of the others were giving Viktor disgusted
looks.
Viktor looked up at the enchanted ceiling and
clenched his jaw. The ceiling showed an
overcast sky, which seemed perfectly appropriate somehow. He looked over at the Gryffindor table and
found her sitting with her friends, looking more subdued than normal.
Feeling
a piercing gaze upon him, Viktor glanced up at the head table. Karkaroff was staring at him with the same cold
expression he had worn by the lake. Now, however, Viktor could see that the look held more than a hint of
malice in it. He looked quickly back
down at his plate, wishing intensely that he could be anywhere but here, that
he could be anyone but himself.
Author's Note:
The inscription on the book in Viktor's dream, "Amicitia Amoris Certissima
Pars,"
translates roughly to "Friendship is the truer part of love."
