A TALE OF TWO KRUMS?

Rita Skeeter, Society Sensations

My dear readers, as we were all aware, the ever-famous (perhaps we should say infamous?) Quidditch World Cup Ball took place yesterday, and what a Ball it was! With representatives from all teams across the world and glittering celebrities and socialites attending, the Ball was sure to be a major success even from the outset. The Ball is known for its propensity to become rather wild (see pages 6A-C, 7B, and 10-14 for a breakdown of the wildest events of the evening), but I would like to draw your attention to a rather small, but perhaps even more delicious, sequence of events that took place against the glittering backdrop.

As you may recall, I first brought to light the burgeoning romance between Bulgarian Bon Bon Viktor Krum and Miss Granger, our own English Rose. The relationship, which seemed rather new at the time, seemed sweet. However, my dear readers, what I spied happening with my very own eyes last night seemed to indicate that the romance could be headed towards rather murky waters due in large part to Miss Granger, who seems determined to capture the heart of not only our favourite prodigal Seeker but also that of his older brother and heir to the Krum dynasty, Kosta Krum.

Mr Krum, who is married to Svetlana of the Vabrachakas, was seen last night in a rather cozy tête-à-tête with Miss Granger while their significant others were left to their own devices (pictured on left). One must wonder what was said between the two, because the elder Krum departed the conversation and seemed rather determined to confront his brother before he was waylaid midway. I later one espied young Krum and his beaux swirling around the dance floor while the elder Krum looked on jealously (pictured on right), which only further cemented my belief that this unusual love triangle must exist.

Is there trouble brewing between these three? Will Mr Krum's performance in the upcoming Quidditch World Cup be affected by the mercurial tides of love that the Seeker seems to be experiencing?

An expert Arithmancer does the math on how this surprising new addition changes the odds on the outcome of the QWC! See page 2 below the fold.

Editor's Note: This article was originally run in England's Daily Prophet but was picked up by Society Sensations International for our biweekly Quidditch Personalities special edition prints, where we track the comings and goings of our favorite players as they prepare for the biggest matches of their lives. To subscribe, kindly send an owl form to our office at 1353 Rue de Soleil.

Islov placed the paper down on his desk and looked at Viktor. "Well?"

"It's all rubbish and you know that." Viktor really didn't see the problem. He'd had worse written about him. "You know how the tabloids are. They always have some strange propensity for reporting both salacious, malicious, and overall untrue 'facts'. This Skeeter woman is just another example. You and I both know there's usually no basis in these kinds of articles, so why did you call me in here to discuss it?"

Sighing, Islov ran a hand over his face. "I know that they're typically untrue, and I don't particularly care about the contents of the article one way or another. The fundamental issue remains, however, that Miss Granger has become a distraction for you, and as I told you a few weeks ago that if she became too much of one, I would have to do something about it."

He stood up and placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Viktor, you are one match away from being able to play at the pinnacle of your profession. The Cup isn't something that comes around often, like the European League. It's every four years, and players who win are guaranteed a successful career for the rest of their athletic lives. This can make you — it will make you. And to have your head turned by some slip of an English girl?" He shook his head. "It's unacceptable. I will not permit the linchpin of this team to be distracted. She has to go."

Viktor stared in disbelief at the head of the team. "You can't just sack her because of a few tabloid articles."

"Weren't you listening? I'm not sacking her because of the articles. I'm sacking her because of you." The older wizard rounded his desk and walked towards the door. "I told you weeks ago — if she made you lose your focus, I would have to do something about it. She did, and here we are."

Viktor followed him out of the office and down the hall as Islov strode down it. "This is a complete overreaction," he argued. "Mia and I are just friends —" though perhaps that could possibly change, if he was lucky "—and she has been nothing but a positive addition to my life. Has my behaviour changed at all since we became friends? Has my performance worsened?"

Islov's stride didn't break. "It doesn't matter. I've made my choice."

Nothing Viktor could say would dissuade him from his path. He'd seen Islov like this before, and nothing short of a hippogryff attacking could move him. That didn't stop him from trying, and he was still arguing with him when they made it through the doors of the Healing Hall.

Krasmira and Hermione were in the midst of a heated debate, standing close together as Hermione pointed at something in one tome while Krasmira had three separate scrolls and a chalkboard with some kind of equation written on it hanging in the air.

"If you start with nought point zero four percent titration," Hermione was arguing, "it affects the viscosity of the other two ingredients in the mixture. What I'm advocating for is the use of a black iron cauldron to help offset those. Kierkgaard says—"

Krasmira, who was looking rather less put together than usual, her dark hair hanging in a loose braid rather than its chignon and with dark circles under her eyes, scoffed. "Kierkgaard has the common sense of a pygmy puff! Where did you even get his text? He's positively medieval!"

"Krasmira," Islov announced, "we need to talk. Now."

Islov's pronouncement was roundly ignored by both of them as the two witches locked eyes.

Mulishly, Hermione continued, "The burn paste would be two point seven percent more effective if you used the black iron. Look here." She cleaned the chalkboard and began scribbling. "Here's the base equation, right? And then we have—"

Islov barked, "Krasmira!"

In unison, both Healer and apprentice looked up at him, the former appearing unimpressed while the other looked owl-eyed.

"What, Boris?" Krasmira asked tetchily. "I don't see anyone injured, so would you just go away? Can't you see we're in the middle of something?"

"Can't do that." He folded his arms. "It's about Granger. She's got to go."

Krasmira frowned at Hermione. "Do you have an appointment or something that you forgot to tell me about?" Viktor's witch shook her head, and Krasmira looked at Islov. "You saw her. She's not going anywhere."

"Not for the day," Islov ground out. "For good."

Krasmira very, very slowly turned to look at Islov. Even though her scarily calm expression wasn't directed at him, Viktor felt his blood turn to ice. "Don't be ridiculous. Hermione isn't going anywhere."

"I'm saying she is."

Krasmira's expression morphed into that of one dealing with a moron. "And I'm saying she's not. She's my apprentice, and she works in my infirmary."

"And she's affecting my player's performance!"

Krasmira's gaze snapped to him, and he felt himself rear back a little at the ferocity in her eyes. "Don't look at me," he responded reflexively, his hands coming up. "I argued against it."

The Haler rolled her eyes and switched back to Islov. "So you're being bullheaded, is it? Figures. Boris, stop before you do something stupid. Let me put it like this: if Hermione goes, I go, and you won't have any Healers for the match in three days. Now get out of my infirmary before I accidentally hex you." That done, she turned to Hermione and continued their conversation.

Islov stared at the Healer for a long moment before turning on his heel and leaving the Hall, his stride heavy. Hermione looked at Viktor for a moment, arching a brow in question, and he shrugged, spreading his hands as if to say I have no idea.

"Mia. Stop doing your little silent telepathy thing with Viktor and listen to me." Krasmira rapped the top of Hermione's book with her knuckles, and her attention shot back to her mentor. It seemed Krasmira was grouchy with everyone today.

He spared a moment to wonder if her encounter with Aidan Lynch had anything to do with her attitude as he slipped out of the infirmary and made his way out to the field. Islov hadn't come out yet, and Viktor now had an agenda that was best implemented before their coach got out on the field.

Islov had another thing coming if he thought he could throw Hermione away like she was rubbish.

When he got there, most of the players were still stretching since the day hadn't yet started. Joining them on the ground, he reached towards his toes to begin stretching out his calves and hamstrings.

"You're a little later than usual," Vasily commented as he pulled an arm across his chest. "Late night last night?"

"You'd think," he replied, "but I was just held up. Islov called me into the office."

Alexei whistled. "What did you do?"

"Apparently I got involved in some kind of love triangle with Kosta and Mia." He let his tone convey his opinions about that.

Clara choked on a laugh. "A what?" she wheezed. "With Kosta? He's like, what, thirty?"

Pyotr twisted to face them, his eyes dancing. "I didn't know your brother was a cradle robber, Viktor."

Viktor rolled his eyes. "He's not. Regardless, it wasn't about that. Islov thinks that Mia is, and I quote, 'distracting' me." He used inverted quotes.

Vasily roared with laughter. "I haven't seen you play so well in the past two months since she came. Distracting you? Ha! More like motivating you."

Wiggling his eyebrows, Pyotr said, "Here on the Bulgarian Quidditch Team, we like to impress the ladies with our skills, not our brains."

Clara smirked. "That's not true. Our little Vitya has been studying with her at lunch time. Isn't it just precious?"

"Hey!" He felt compelled to defend himself, though his cheeks were burning. "I have to study to retain my marks next year, especially if I want to get an apprenticeship at some point."

"An apprenticeship in love." Vasily oozed innuendo.

Clara reached over and slapped him on the side of the head. "Don't even imply things about my Mia that way, you lech."

Vasily rubbed his head. "Hey, she's not your Mia. She's our Mia. She healed my wrist." He patted his chest. "Can you say the same? No? Didn't think so. So actually, she's more my Mia than your Mia."

"Okay, no." Clara held up a finger. "I helped her at the team lunch, and I took her to get her dress, and I helped her get ready for the ball. She's mine, too."

"I'm the first one she healed," Alexei put in, "so actually I'm her first, which means I'm her best. She's definitely mine."

"Islov tried to sack her." Viktor's quiet statement caught the entire team off guard, and simultaneously everyone swung around to stare at him with varying expressions of shock and incredulity.

"What?" Even Zograf was surprised. The Keeper was normally unflappable. "Because of the article?"

He nodded, feeling increasingly miserable the more he thought about it. The idea that he could have contributed to Mia's potential sacking made his stomach curdle. "Not only because of the article, but I think it was a tipping point. He thinks she's distracting me and wants me to be focused, although I don't know what I could have done to show that I'm being distracted. Has my playing noticeably worsened? Do I seem distracted?"

Alexei frowned thoughtfully. "I really don't think so. Perhaps off the pitch I can see you looking a little moony sometimes, but otherwise, I really haven't noticed any kind of impact on the pitch. You're as focused as ever."

"And even if you were distracted," Pyotr added, looking serious for once, "I wouldn't lay that guilt on Mia's feet. She hasn't, not one time, ever tried to distract us from our playing. Not Viktor, not me, not any of us. She's really been quite a nice addition, to be frank. It's been refreshing to talk to her and have her there in the infirmary. Even though she's young, she's really quite mature for her age and has a wonderful bedside manner. Much better than Kras."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Kras is part dragon, Pyotr. Anyone would have a better bedside manner than her. But I do agree. Mia feels like a little sister to me sometimes. But even more than that, she feels kind of like our mascot. She's always there to cheer us on and wish us the best. I, for one, would be very upset if Islov decided to sack her." She paused. "Can he sack her?"

A small smirk made its way onto Viktor's lips. "Not according to Krasmira, no."

Suddenly intent, Alexei grabbed his shoulder. "Were you there to witness that? Did he confront Krasmira?" He chuckled. "Islov versus Krasmira. What a match up!"

Viktor looked at him sidelong, a smirk curling his lips. "It wasn't much of a match at all in my opinion." He recounted the brief encounter between the two and the team was left speculating what would happen between the two now that Islov had pissed her off.

"But seriously," Vasily shook his head as they came back to the original topic at hand, "I don't know what he was thinking. It wasn't even a good idea to begin with given that she hasn't done a damn thing to deserve it. I think he got what was coming to him."

All around him, the team made varying sounds of agreement, and they all stared at Islov with varying degrees of disapproval when he finally showed up, a displeased expression on his face. "Don't you even start on me," he snapped. "I am the coach of this team, and I make the decisions."

"Mia's like the team puppy," Vasily piped up, "and we don't kick puppies."

"I feel like she's our good luck charm." Even Ivan, who hardly ever spoke, weighed in. "We haven't lost since she started. I don't want to change a thing, not now that we're so close to making it."

Alexei, one of the more superstitious on the team, blanched. "I hadn't even thought of it that way. Yes, we absolutely cannot get rid of Mia. Getting rid of someone for no good reason would be losh kŭsmet. It could ruin us."

Aggrieved, Islov snarled, "No more talk of Mia. She's staying. Now suit up and get on your brooms. We have a lot to get done today."

Resisting a triumphant expression, Viktor calmly strapped on his goggles and summoned his broom, throwing a leg over and ascending to hoop height. Clara flew up next to him and companionably kicked his foot with her own.

"Good job, Vitya," she told him, her eyes solemn. "Islov has his heart in the right place most of the time, but I think he underestimated our regard for the little English Rose. He'll have a lot of angry players on his hands if he continues to try and get rid of her, especially now that Ivan brought up luck and superstition."

He nodded, feeling as though he had done what he could without putting himself directly in Islov's crosshairs. Now that the team was aware, they could help him protect Hermione if Islov decided to arbitrarily target her again. He doubted it would happen again, but he couldn't be sure, especially since Islov seemed so eager to go after her without a truly substantiated reason.

The thought made his stomach sink. If Islov was this upset about an article, what would he do if Viktor asked to court Hermione and she accepted him? He didn't doubt that Islov would be able to find a way to get rid of her should he really, truly desire to, and he wanted nothing less than to cut Hermione's time here short because he wasn't able to wait a bit longer.

He sighed, his shoulders sinking. It seemed it would be best to wait until after the season was over to say anything. Hermione's time here would be safe, then. Well, at least safe from the damage that potential landmine could cause. If he wasn't who he was, then...but he was. So this was how it had to be.

Practice was even more brutal than usual. Viktor attributed it to Islov's bad temper, and when they broke for lunch they were all winded and sweaty. "Lunch in town?" Vasily suggested, and the rest of the team agreed, unwilling to stick around when Islov was in such a mood.

"I'll go grab the puppy," Vasily said, and even Zograf cracked a smile at that. The Chaser apparated to the one-way window on the far end of the pitch and was let in moments later.

Scant minutes later twin cracks heralded the appearance of not only Vasily but also Krasmira, who stood next to a subdued Hermione. It seemed the entire team had gathered to show her their support, and all throughout lunch, they made a point to show her in various ways that she was one of them. Vasily even cracked a joke about her being the team mascot, and when she smiled for the first time in response, it felt like the entire team released a deep breath of relief. Even Krasmira's shoulders dropped the slightest bit.

The young witch, who had quietly sat on Viktor's left side during lunch, slowly bloomed to life under their reassurances. As she finally began to eat, he nudged her with his arm even as he put another hunk of bread on her plate.

"Okay?" he asked as he bent his head toward her, his voice low enough that only she would hear it.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I'm fine," she replied, though her voice was still muted.

Searching her expression for signs up upset but unable to see anything overtly wrong, he at last turned to Vasily, who was discussing the potential of using a Byzantine Block during the upcoming match.

When she gently nudged his foot under the table a few minutes later with her own, he smiled into his soup. His witch would get past this, especially now that she'd seen how much support she had. He'd make sure of it.

Happy holidays to you all! For those who celebrate Christmas - Merry Christmas; for those of you who don't, I hope you had a fantastic day.

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews last chapter: they were great Christmas gifts :)