Author's Note: Well, it's getting posted before midnight my time, so on time... just barely, I admit. However, I have officially decided to write a sequel at some point here, so I decided I had to change some things up in this last chapter, and it took longer than I expected for me to be happy with it. But yeah, sequel-Merry Christmas! Haha. I won't have time to start writing it immediately, and I don't think I'll post it until I have the whole thing written like I did with this one, but it will happy, I promise.

I'm really happy with this little story. I like how all the characters interact, I still LOVE Emil, and I think I found the right balance between angsty teenage struggles and crossing into a plot that would be entirely unrealistic. I hope that all of you enjoyed it as well, and aren't disappointed in the 'end' of the story!

While you're waiting for a sequel, I encourage you to check out my WIP story, Order of the Dragon. It's a much longer story than this one, a Harry/Charlie pairing, with some Fred/George and a few others thrown in there as well. I've been working on it for ages-it's my baby.

Thanks again for following this story, and for all of your reviews!

-Emmette

CHAPTER TWELVE

For the second night in a row, the Great Hall was filled with the buzz of excited voices and Harry Potter sat at the Gryffindor table with his head down, oblivious to all of it. He had come to dinner early, becoming nearly desperate after a full night and day of avoiding his friends, and he was quickly regretting his decision. Interspersed with speculation on who the Hogwarts champion would be was animated discussion on Viktor Krum. Just as Lavendar Brown asked who had been lucky enough to write to Krum all summer and Harry began debating getting up and leaving before dinner even started, he was suddenly hedged in to his place at the table by a red-headed twin sliding onto the bench on either side of him.

"You wouldn't happen to be thinking about bolting…"

"…now would you, Harry?"

"Because we've been trying to track you down…"

"…all day long." They both raised their eyebrows at him pointedly, and Harry decided it was safest simply to look down at where his hands were clasped nervously together in his lap.

"We talked to Krum last night," two voices whispered into the silence, and if it hadn't been for twin sets of arms quickly grabbing onto his shoulders, Harry was sure he would have shot off the bench.

"You what?! Why would you do that? Who said… I didn't… Why did…"

"Breathe, little brother. Come on, you need to calm down. Everything's fine, we promise; relax and breathe and we'll explain everything." It was the endearment, falling so naturally from Fred's lips, that calmed Harry more than the rest of his words or even the gentle hug and back rub he was getting from George on his other side. Seeing that Harry was at least prepared to listen, the twins quickly launched into the tale of their run-in with the Bulgarian seeker the night before, switching off seamlessly in their story-telling, before George reached into his pocket and pulled out a note, setting it on the table in front of Harry.

"We haven't read it, it didn't feel like our place. We're not going to tell you what to do, but he seemed sincere, and… well, we'd hate to see you throw away something that could make you happy, even if he is a bit of an idiot. Whatever you decide, though, we're your big brothers and we'll have your back." Harry looked up with shining eyes at this promise, and found that the usual mischief in the twins' eyes had been replaced for the moment by affection and a fiercely protective glint.

"Why…?" Harry honestly had no idea how to even finish his question, but thankfully Fred and George seemed to know what he was asking even without the words.

"You've been family…"

"…for years, Harry. Ever since…"

"…your first Weasley Christmas sweater."

"We were just waiting for you to accept it," they finished together with a smile. Fred tousled his hair, grinning at the half-hearted scowl this earned him, and George nudged Viktor's note toward him before he could get distracted again. After looking back and forth between his friends…his brothers…several times, Harry took a deep breath and unfolded the parchment.

Survivor,

I don't know how I'll manage to get this note to you, only that I must. The
alternative—losing your friendship before I've even had a chance to earn
it—is simply intolerable. All I ask is that you read this note and consider
my apology.

I lost my temper earlier, and you paid the price. For that, I have no excuse.
As you've no doubt realized who I am, I hope you can understand that I
have had some poor experiences with strangers trying to win over my favor for
their own selfish reasons. When you approached me, I had already reached
the end of my patience with fawning students. When you offered me your feather,
the way you spoke, and seeing no feather on my own staff… I thought I had gotten
my hopes up for nothing. I spent all of dinner looking around the hall, hoping
for some sign of you. When you didn't approach me after so long, I began to
think you had changed your mind about meeting me, now that you know who I
am. I didn't realize my staff had gotten switched with my friend's, and that was
why there was no feather. I realize that does not justify my cruel words to you,
but please believe that I am truly sorry for hurting you.

I understand if you choose not to give me another chance, but I cannot help
but plead for your forgiveness. I want nothing more than the chance to earn
your friendship, little Survivor. Please.

My sincerest, most humble apologies,

Viktor Krum

Harry wanted to believe the gentle words, but Viktor was right; he had hurt him. More than that, Harry wasn't sure he could trust him the same way again.

"It would probably be a feather in a famous quidditch player's cap, to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry said so only the twins could hear, bitterly pleased with his own play on words and folding up the letter, but unable to bring himself to set it down just yet. They were quiet for a moment, then George turned him gently so he was force to look the red-head eye-to-eye.

"Whatever that letter said, Harry, he had written it before we found him in the owlery. He had no idea who you were yet." Harry stared back, trying to fight down the hope that was bubbling in his chest, not wanting to be hurt again. Luckily, he was saved having to come up with an answer by the arrival of Ron and Hermione followed by the start of the feast. He was actually grateful that Dumbledore gave in to his students' anxious anticipation and brought out the Goblet of Fire before dessert had finished, as he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do or say. Hermione had sent him several mildly suspicious looks throughout the meal, but even she was blessedly distracted as Dumbledore began speaking.

"The goblet is almost ready to make its decision…" He went on to remind the audience of the process, and give directions for the students whose names would be chosen. Finally, with a great sweep of his wand, the candles dimmed and the voices in the hall died away. Every eye in the hall was on the goblet when the flames suddenly turned red and shot sparks before spitting out a charred bit of parchment. Catching it deftly, Dumbledore looked at it for a moment before announcing, "The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!" There was a roar of applause, and though Harry clapped along with the rest of the students, he could feel his face pale as a cold wave of fear for his pen-pal washed over him. And really, I suppose that shows my decision right there, Harry mused, as he watched Viktor slouch up toward the staff table before turning and disappearing through a doorway. Shadow or Krum, I care about him too much to just let this go.

He was still frowning when the flames turned red a second time and Fleur Delacour became the champion for Beauxbatons. The blond who Ron had declared the day before must be part Veela rose from the Ravenclaw table with a pleased grin, and Ginny, for whatever reason, looked between her and Ron (who was watching her every move with a dopey grin) once before burying her face in her hands and bursting into muffled giggles. Harry watched in bemused confusion then thanked whatever higher power existed once more for giving him a male pen-pal.

Finally, the goblet glowed red a third time, and even Harry found himself focused solely on listening to the announcement of the Hogwarts champion. When Dumbledore called out Cedric's name, he hadn't even finished the word 'Diggory' before his voice was drowned out by the pure roar of approval from the Hufflepuff table. Harry clapped enthusiastically, grinning at the shy pride on Cedric's face as he made his way up to the head table and blushed at the approving nod from Sprout.

As Dumbledore quieted the students and happily went on to encourage everyone to cheer on their school's champion, Harry let his thoughts drift back to Viktor and how best to let his friend know that he accepted his apology. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the flames of the Goblet glowing red a fourth time or the eerie hush that fell over the room. In fact, it wasn't until Dumbledore was calling his name into the silence with an unfamiliar icy voice that he realized what was going on. Glancing around startled, looking from the charred parchment in the headmaster's hand to the accusing glares from around the hall to poorly hidden fear in Fred and George's eyes, Harry couldn't help but sink into his seat with a pitiful whispered "No…"

"Harry," Hermione hissed at him, trying to keep her voice quiet in the face of the oppressive silence. "Harry, for goodness sakes, you have to go up there!"

"I don't want to! I don't want anything to do with this! Hermione, I…" He trailed off, just shaking his head with a lost expression. Hermione grimaced, wincing apologetically at him, but it didn't stop her from sending a mild stinging hex at him from under the table that had him jumping to his feet.

"I know, I'm sorry, but Harry you have to go up there now!" She urged, sending a quick frown towards the head table. Gulping, Harry reluctantly walked up towards Dumbledore, feeling extremely small under the man's penetrating gaze. He risked a glance at the rest of the head table, hoping to distract himself from the sneers and speculative whispers of the students, but instantly regretted it. McGonagal was staring back at him, tight-lipped and stony-faced, Snape was outright glaring, and even Hagrid had lost his usual smile, simply watching Harry with wide eyes in an expressionless face.

Harry paused in front of the headmaster, looking pleadingly up at him. For a moment, he thought the gaze softened ever-so-slightly, but nonetheless an arm was raised and pointed silently towards the door the other three champions had disappeared behind. Squaring his shoulders, determinedly avoiding meeting anyone else's gaze, Harry walked briskly to the door and stepped inside. His thoughts ran in a constant, panicked mantra of no, no, no, no, no…

xXxXxXxXx

Viktor Krum looked up eagerly when the door to the chamber swung open. He and the other two champions had been standing in silence for several minutes and it was quickly growing awkward. Having had his name drawn from the goblet first, he did not even have the benefit of knowing the names of his opponents, and therefore felt at quite a disadvantage. As desperate as he was for a distraction, however, he was entirely unprepared to find the small, tousle-haired figure of his little Survivor (Harry Potter, his name is Harry he reminded himself absently) standing just inside the entrance of the room and staring blankly at the floor in front of him.

"What is it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?" The somewhat haughty, slightly impatient questions from the blond Beauxbaton's champion seemed to pull Harry out of his thoughts, but when he looked up at them, he only shook his head silently. Viktor, for his part, felt his heart clench. Those green eyes were nearly swirling with emotions: confusion, fear, a blooming hint of resignation, and underneath it all a loneliness so stark that the Bulgarian felt an overwhelming urge to sweep the young man into his arms and hold him until that look disappeared.

He had time for none of this, however, as the door had opened again, this time to an overly enthusiastic Ludo Bagman, who steered Harry over to the other waiting champions, spouting off about the marvel of a fourth champion. Watching Harry's face pale, Viktor felt his own stomach clench. Even without the benefit of knowing the young man's opinions on the tournament beforehand, it could not have been more clear that his little Survivor wanted nothing to do with his champion status. Unbidden, he recalled line from one of Harry's summer letters: I don't know how these things always happen to me. Before he could muse on this further, there were footsteps and raised voices from the hall, and then the three school heads, Crouch, and two Hogwarts professors strode into the room: the severe Scots-woman who had helped get the mob of students off of him the day before, and the dark, sneering potions master Krum had learned was the head of Slytherin House, where he and his classmates had been taking their meals.

Viktor listened absently as 'the adults' in the room argued back and forth about Hogwart's second representative, but he had eyes only for his fellow champions. The blond from Beauxbatons looked annoyed, that much was obvious, but as Harry continued to stand pale and silent, she had stopped complaining and was instead frowning contemplatively at the smaller boy. The other Hogwarts champion looked flustered and somewhat confused, but his eyes would flicker over and he would frown whenever someone said something negative about his classmate. Viktor wasn't sure if either of them believed it when Harry assured Dumbledore that he had not put his name in the goblet or asked an older student to do so, but at the very least they seemed to be taking some degree of offense to the slander being sent Harry's way.

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff's cold, steely voice drew Krum's attention back into the argument. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools." Viktor scoffed, knowing that his headmaster had been preening for weeks now that he was a shoe-in for Durmstrang champion, and that he was likely beaming inside that his 'pet' student was gaining even more fame. Once again, he wished Emil would allow him to tell the blundering fool where to shove it, but Emil insisted it was worth it to allow the man his delusions of Viktor's respect until they had graduated, and Viktor did try not to ruin Emil's plans. Before he could come up with an appropriate response, the Hogwarts potions master stepped forward, and his harsh, sneering words left Viktor seething with rage.

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," he said softly, his black eyes alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here—just like his father, so arrogant, so conceited, so—"

"Vhat bravery it must take," Viktor snarled, suddenly finding himself standing between the tall man and the pale boy, "to insult a child's dead parents. I do not believe that you are the head of a school or a ministry representative; you 'ave no business here. I vish for you to leave." He had drawn himself to his full height and flexed his shoulders under his furs, hardening his eyes and staring up at the man with all the intimidation he could muster. Never more grateful for Emil's foresight, Viktor shot a pointed look towards Krum, who—though he clearly did not understand the source of his favorite student's anger—was only too happy to interfere with Dumbledore's man on Viktor's behalf.

"I must agree, Albus; your staff are not to take part in the running of this tournament. Unless this is another rule you are intending to break tonight…?"

"Of course not, Igor, of course not. Severus?" His tone was light, but even Viktor could see the steely glint in the man's eyes that warned against argument. The man narrowed his eyes, but turned and left with a swirl of his robes. Dumbledore then turned to the Scottish woman, and with a sad smile addressed her gently. "Minerva, I must ask you to leave as well. It appears your young lion is in good hands." She frowned at the older wizard, her nostrils flaring angrily, then glanced between Viktor and Harry with a calculating look. Finally, her eyes rested a moment on the younger boy, expression softening for just a second, before hardening again as her gaze turned back and her eyes locked with Viktor's. She nodded at him, just the slightest inclination of her head.

"My lady," Viktor replied respectfully, dipping his own head in acknowledgement. With a curt nod at Dumbledore, the woman left the chamber as well. Viktor returned stiffly to his place by the fire, staring broodingly into the flames. After a few minutes, he felt the weight of a stare resting on him, and was unsurprised when he looked up to find Harry watching him. He was surprised, however, that the smaller boy held his gaze steadily, neither of them looking away until Alastor Moody, who had stormed in a little while earlier, made his ominous prediction.

Viktor gaped at the man. He thought someone entered Harry's name into the Goblet hoping he would die in the tournament? Who would plot the death of a fourteen-year-old? He looked around the room, hoping for confirmation that the man was merely being paranoid, but Dumbledore looked only weary, and even Karkaroff and Maxime were looking uncomfortable rather than doubtful or alarmed. Viktor turned back to Harry to gauge his reaction, and was floored when he saw a dejected but resigned look on his face. He glanced up and met Viktor's eyes briefly, but quickly looked away, grimacing with an almost guilty expression. He's just been told that someone may be trying to kill him, and this is his only reaction? It's like he's used to this! Viktor thought back to his young pen-pals blasé attitude towards whatever incident led to rescue by a phoenix, and he regarded the quiet young man with growing apprehension.

He listened distractedly as Bagman and Crouch gave their instructions to the champions, then bit back a growl of frustration when Harry slipped from the room at the first possible moment and Karkaroff tried to hold Viktor back to talk with him. He let the man babble on for several minutes, not listening to what he was saying, before finally losing his patience.

"I must go," he said brusquely, shoving past his headmaster with no further explanation and shifting uncomfortably under the twinkling look Dumbledore gave him as he stepped into the corridor. Retracing his route from the dining hall on instinct, Viktor slowed his steps at the sound of voices floating towards him but did not stop. He stepped out into the room, finding himself behind the long table where the professors sat for meals, and looked down to find Harry slumped against a wall on the other side of the room, the red-headed twins crouching down on either side of him. Hesitating only a moment, he started walking towards them, listening to Harry's distraught rant.

"…one year, that's all I wanted; just one year without someone trying to kill me. First year, it was Voldemort possessing professor Quirrell, and going after the Sorceror's Stone… second year it was Voldemort's spirit trapped in his old diary, possessing Ginny and setting the basilisk loose on the school—not to mention fighting the basilisk itself. Do you have any idea how much basilisk venom hurts?! Then putting up with damn dementors all last year, listening to my parents die every time they come near me, all because I supposedly had a deranged mass murderer who escaped an un-escapable prison with the sole purpose of hunting me down to avenge Voldemort... Anyone seeing a pattern here? If someone's trying to get me killed, three guesses as to who might be behind it. I'm bloody fourteen! I've had three years of school, I didn't even know magic existed before that and I might as well be a muggle for all the exposure I have to magic in the summers. I can't do this!" The bitter, angry fuel that seemed to have driven his rant finally faded out, leaving only a scared, broken-sounding boy in its wake.

"Harry…" one of the twins said helplessly, both of them watching their friend at a loss for words. Viktor didn't know if his presence would be welcome, but seeing the defeated slump in Harry's posture and having heard the truly remarkable feats this amazing young man had been forced to survive at such a young age (for he had no doubt that Harry, in his fear and rage, had spoken nothing but the truth), he couldn't stay quiet any longer. Stepping forward, Viktor knelt down in front of Harry and reached out to lift his chin, locking eyes with the startled youth.

"I vrote to a remarkable young man this summer. He refused to give in to bullies or cower in the face of Death Eaters, and he vas fiercely proud of the parents who gave their lives so that he could have his. He also told me vonce, 'There's nothing more precious than feeling loved.'" Viktor glanced meaningfully at Fred and George, who were still crouched at Harry's side, hands resting supportively on his shoulders. "Do you really think that your brothers and friends vill leave you to face this tournament alone?" Harry didn't say anything, but he was sitting up straight now, and looking between the three of them with a look that could only be described as hope.

Viktor smiled softly and stood, brushing off his robes where he had knelt on the stone floor. He wanted to pull the young man into his arms and comfort him, tell him that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about, but he did know if he was truly welcomed here right now, and Harry deserved more than placating platitudes anyway, however well-intentioned. Still, he couldn't help but say one more thing before turning to go back to the ship.

"If it means anything, my offer still stands: should you ever need a friend—should you ever need a protector—I will be there." With that, he turned and began walking away. He was so deep in thought that he had not registered the footsteps coming up behind him, and so startled when a small hand settled timidly on his arm. He turned around, surprised to find Harry standing mere inches from him, a determined expression on his face. Silently, the boy lifted an arm towards him…

…and offered a red feather. With a trembling hand Viktor took it, eyes darting searchingly over the other boy's face.

"Hi," Harry said with a smile, and kept his now empty hand held out. "My name is Harry Potter." Grinning suddenly, Viktor clasped the small hand in his own.

"Viktor Krum." Harry nodded, still smiling, as he shook then released his hand.

"It's very nice to meet you. I… hope we will be friends this year." With his heart hammering happily, Viktor could only grin wider.

"I'd like that." He glanced over Harry's shoulder to see the twins watching the younger boy's antics with matching indulgent smiles. "I think it is time I made some new friends." With one last shy grin, Harry turned and let the red-heads lead him out of the hall. Viktor waited until they disappeared from sight before turning once more to leave for his ship. The worry for his young Survivor remained, and his thoughts were racing over all that he had heard that night, but as he walked back towards Emil and the rest of the Durmstrang students, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.