Chapter 6: The Cabin in the Woods
Viktor shares his suspicions about the mysterious cabin and its owner.
What do I tell him?
It has always been hellish, for someone like Viktor, to talk about himself, because there was nothing to talk about. He was not being honest with himself, in truth, because surely there were plenty about him that was interesting. He was a professional Quidditch player, after all, the youngest seeker in history.
But these were all after before, and before just would not be interesting for him. It was not pride that prompted him to shun who he was when he was young. Nor disgust to who he was compared to what he has achieved now. It was shame. He has never opened up about it to anyone. Not even to his friends in Durmstrang, or to his teammates in the Bulgarian team. Nor to Karkaroff, who Cedric seemed to think his guardian.
And he does not plan on doing it now, especially not to someone who had tied him like a pig for slaughter.
"Stay still, please. I have to be really gentle about this." The ropes binding him were gone and Cedric had taken to tending to his wounds with a sickly sweet paste.
It was not really hatred he felt for the younger man, he realised then. Admittedly, the self-assured accusations and the sneaky glances grated at his nerves and annoyed him endlessly. As if he was up to something sinister. As if he was the cruellest man Cedric had ever met.
They reminded him of before, and that was something he has tried for so long to smother.
I am not a cruel man.
The sharp crack of bones under a heavy chain. The low moan that escaped lips as life slowly ebbed. Did he revel in it? In the death of three people, Death Eaters they might be?
It was necessary to save Cedric.
Was not Cedric a mere afterthought, a person he just managed to pass by on the way to the forest?
I am not a cruel man.
Cedric's fingers were gentle and soft as they trailed over the cuts that marked his face. They lingered over his lips, dabbing the salve in slow strokes, then on the swelling on his left eye. There was a crease on Cedric's forehead as he moved about, a determination that furrowed his wild eyebrows and burnt in his deep-set eyes. In the limited light of the fire, the colour of his irises was reduced to a mere black. But as Cedric stooped down, Viktor saw that they were grey, framed by long, fine lashes. When he blinked it seemed to almost touched his cheeks, fluttering across the smooth, pale skin.
Cedric did care for him even if he thought Viktor was a criminal.
Maybe he deserves to know?
"You know, I'm still waiting for you to start on your story."
Am I ready to let someone else know?
The answer was plain. No. It was a mistake to use his past as a bargaining chip, in the first place. So what will he tell Cedric? He needed a distraction from answering the other's question, and at the same time, they both need to find a way to get back to Hogwarts.
The solution to both came so naturally to him that he wondered if he was not as scheming as he claimed he was.
He slipped a faded photo from inside his pocket and handed it to Cedric, who took it with a suspicious gaze.
It was an unmoving photo of a woman. She was beautiful, elegant with her slender neck and long hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Round almond eyes, thick eyebrows and full lips; she looked the same age as Viktor, but already there was a regal air in how she posed for the camera. Around her pale neck was a necklace with a small pendant.
"Who's she?" Cedric inquired.
"I found it in one of those books." He pointed at the pile of volumes in the study, "I think she's the owner of this cabin."
Cedric looked at him, not knowing what to say exactly.
He continued, "I think there's floo powder somewhere in this house."
At that, Cedric raised his eyebrows in disbelief. His eyes were studying Viktor's face, as he often did whenever Viktor says something incredulous. It was the same searching gaze that angered him so many times in the past few days, the same accusatory look.
He watched Cedric as his mouth worked on what he was to say in reply. Carefully, Cedric said, "This is a muggle house, Viktor."
"Vot makes you say that?"
Cedric blinked a few times but patiently explained. "You've explored the house, I take it?" He nodded, and Cedric continued. "Then you've seen the kitchen where there's an actual stove. No self-heating cauldrons nor pans. And the books. You cleaned out the shelves yourself, you must have seen that they were muggle books."
He knew all that, but somehow there was a creeping voice in his head that was certain that this house had a touch of magic in it. The woman in my dreams held a wand.
"What makes you think that this is a wizarding house?" Asked Cedric, throwing his question back at him.
"Did you see any tracks leading to the cabin?"
Cedric paused, biting his lip in contemplation. "No, but I assumed they were just buried under the snow. Or, you know, they just disappeared. I'm guessing it's been a long while since anybody's been here. It's not exactly in tip-top shape." He peered outside at the collapsed roof of the deck.
"Do you know about snowmobiles, the one muggles use to travel on this kind of terrain?"
Cedric shook his head, his eyebrows going farther up his forehead.
The words came rushing out his mouth, "Just think of them as cars-you know those, right?-except smaller. Have you seen any in a garage anyvhere? Or a garage, in the first place? How do you think vould she even get here?"
Alright, he was scrambling. He did not exactly have the time to wrap his head around his suspicions about this place. The woman in my dreams held a wand, he repeated.
"Vot about the enchanted quill I found?"
A guilty look flitted across Cedric's face, and he looked sheepish when he said, "I...I don't know. I mean, if it was magical, why haven't we heard of it already? It's so practical, now that I think about it. A quill without an ink. And yet this is the first time I've ever seen something like that."
He exhaled, frustration building inside him. There must be proof here somewhere. There must be something that linked the woman in his dreams to the woman in the photo.
"Just...just let me look for floo powder. There must be something in the rooms upstairs."
"Is that what you've been looking for all this time?"
"Yes," he lied. He was looking for anything magical, not exactly floo powder. The idea that this house was connected to the floo network popped in his mind the same time he said it, and somehow in his ramblings, he started to believe himself. There must be something.
Cedric was staring at the ceiling, arms crossed and foot tapping against the floor. He huffed, then looked Viktor straight in the eye. "You know if you're wrong about this then we would have wasted time instead of thinking about more probable ways of leaving this place." He prodded at the wound in Viktor's side and earned a wince from him. "You're not getting better, Krum. You're getting worse. We need to think of a way back or else you'll-" he swallowed, unable to continue.
"I know," he replied, "And my life is not something I wager lightly."
"Three hours," Cedric declared. "If I do not find anything in three hours, we're dropping the floo network."
He nodded and made a move to stand. Cedric laid a firm hand against his chest, pushing down.
"I said 'I.' You, on the other hand, will stay here and rest. Will you respect our deal this time, or should I bind you to this couch?"
He gave a curt nod. Cedric walked up the stairs.