Viktor
September 3rd 1994
The water stirred, creating ripples that expanded across the lake. The sleek outline of a ship emerged, its bow breaking through the surface, water cascading off its sides like a sparkling waterfall.
A giant squid reached the lake's surface, tentacles probing the ship. One snaked around the main mast but recoiled upon contact, causing sparks to fly around the ship, fizzling before reaching the ground.
The sky turned a fiery orange as the Hogwarts castle stood silhouetted against the approaching sunset.
The Durmstrang Institute's students formed five lines of ten on the dock, their headmaster at the forefront, his staff on his right hand.
They had expected a welcoming committee, yet the only student Viktor noticed was a short girl with uncontrollable curls shifting on her feet.
A delicate tickle crawled all over his skin at her presence.
"What is this?" Karkaroff asked in Russian, eyeing the girl. "Is she our welcoming representative?" His face scrunched with disgust. "They sent a woman to greet us," he sneered.
Karkaroff struck his staff against the wooden floors with a resounding thud and the gangplank lowered. He barked. "Krum, Svoboda, Dimitrov." The three young men closed their stance. They followed behind their headmaster and the group swiftly disembarked the ship.
Viktor stood behind Karkaroff, unable to see much except the girl's hair poking out from Karkaroff's silhouette.
"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said in English. She stretched her hand for a couple of seconds before tucking her hand away.
Viktor waited for her to courtesy or offer the back of her hand to the headmaster in greeting, but she didn't.
The Headmaster let out a derisive snort. "Vank you," he answered with a sardonic tone. "Vhere is Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"He is waiting in The Great Hall." She answered, her words strained.
"Vot is your name, girl?" Karkaroff's obvious distaste made the witch with the wild hair shuffle in place
"Hermione Granger, sir," she retorted courteously but failed to mask the venom behind the last word.
As the Headmaster moved, Viktor got a better view. She had wild brown hair, escaping her attempts at a braid, and fiery brown eyes that drew him in. Though shorter than Karkaroff, she dared to meet his gaze head-on.
Then, that phantom itch sensation hit him hard. He steadied his breath, calming his racing heart. He clenched and unclenched his hands.
"I haven't heard of any Grain-en-gers," Karkaroff said, scrutinizing her. "Vot does your father do?"
"My parents are dentists, sir."
How curious. The Pureblood witches he knew would usually adopt a gentler tone and demeanor when talking to a wizard, especially one like Karkaroff. This British witch, however, stood her ground.
"Dentists?" The headmaster spat the word out, disdain evident.
She stood tall. "Yes, muggle teeth doctors."
Karkaroff's lip curled, his nostrils flaring slightly, as he glanced away, unable to conceal the distaste etched across his face. "Hov interesting," Karkaroff spat the words out. "Do let Dumbledore knov, I vill be vere soon."
If Karkaroff wanted to convince people he had changed, he was failing miserably.
He stepped away and gripped his staff. He addressed his students in Russian, "I will see you inside."
The headmaster's face twisted with obvious disdain. He stormed off to the ship. "Domovoy!" He barked.
A second later, a scrawny elf with a tattered pillowcase as robes popped up. "Yes, Master?" The elf replied, keeping his head down.
Karkaroff's staff landed on the small elf with a loud thud. The poor elf landed on the ground. His droopy ears touched the floor. "Get my things to the castle. Now." His nostrils expanded as he looked down at the elf. "I'm in a sour mood."
His eyes darted to the witch and the magic that crackled around her. He saw her hand curled around her wand. Her knuckles turned white as her face contorted with rage and her eyes blazed with fury. It looked like she was doing everything she could not to raise her wand.
Viktor stepped forward. Vlad and Oleg immediately followed. They blocked the witch from doing anything stupid and dangerous.
Even with his back turned Karkaroff could block an incoming spell from a schoolgirl.
Her brown fury-filled eyes met Viktor's and she steeled herself. Her hand didn't leave her wand. She stepped back and her eyes bounced from Viktor's face to Oleg's and finally to Vlad's.
Her body poised, weight evenly distributed, one foot in front of the other, wand held at the ready with a firm grip, and her gaze locked onto the Oleg.
Viktor's brows pinched together trying to figure out what was going through the witch's mind. She surely didn't intend to start a fight.
Oleg took a careful step back. It reminded Viktor of trying to approach a hippogriff.
The witch squared her shoulders and raised her chin.
The blond wizard clicked his boots together and bowed. He straightened his back and reached out his hand to her. His pale palm was faced up, waiting for her to place her hand into his so he could kiss her hand. "Hello, my name is Vladimir Svoboda. Pleaze to meet yu." He flashed her a toothy smile.
She furrowed her eyebrows. Her eyes meticulously scanned Vladimir and his outstretched hand. She stepped closer and grasped Vladmir's hand into hers. Tension slipped off her face as she shook his hand. A nice smile appeared on her face. "Hello! My name is Hermione Granger. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Vladimir's face was a mix of confusion and surprise. With lifted brows, he stared at the witch with awe. He shook the witch's hand and returned his hand to his side.
It was the first time that they had seen a woman shake hands with a man. Viktor exchanged dumbfounded looks with Vladimir and Oleg. The giant looked at Vladimir's surprised face and smiled.
The Hogwarts student smiled and turned to Oleg. She extended her hand again. Oleg's massive scarred tanned hand enclosed hers. "Hermione Granger. Welcome."
The giant gently shook her hand. "Oleg Dimitrov. Good to met you. And vank you."
She let go of his hand, a bright smile on her face. She turned to Viktor and her eyes scanned his face.
Now that she was calm and had a chance to examine him more closely, he expected her to transform into the stereotypical fangirl. He braced himself for her to throw herself at him.
She extended her hand, just like she had done with his friends. She had an almost-forced smile on her face that Viktor made his scowl. Why did her smile change with him? "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger."
His eyebrows drew together further, deepening his scowl. First of all, he had no fucking clue how to say her name. And secondly, he was too caught off guard to reply. What was her deal? She must feel the bond because it made his skin feel like ants were crawling all over.
Her big bright eyes searched his face. She tilted her head, her hand still outstretched. "What's your name?" she asked expectantly.
He stared in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. The itch turned into a pulsing sensation that urged him to touch her. This was the first time a girl had looked him in the eye and not transformed into a mandrake, especially since the World Cup.
She blinked a couple of times. "Oh, sorry!" she muttered and turned to Vladimir and Oleg. "Does he not speak English?" She reached for something in her bag. "How inconsiderate of me!"
His friends' faces sported huge smiles. Vladimir's shoulders shook slightly as he tried to suppress a laugh. Oleg's lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He placed a hand over his mouth and turned away from Viktor.
Viktor blinked a couple of times. His cheeks warmed. Embarrassment spread through him like wildfire.
He didn't consider himself to be a presumptuous showoff, but this girl knocked him off his broom. He told himself it must have been because he hadn't felt a pull as strong in a while, well more like ever. That was it, he was caught off guard by the bond.
Miss Granger stood before him again, book in hand. "Here." She pushed a Russian-to-English dictionary at him. He glared at it. Great now she thought he was daft and couldn't speak English. What a wonderful way to make a first impression on this witch which caused his body to itch like he was 13 again.
Vladimir's snickers turned into fits of laughter.
Worried crept over Miss Granger's features. She looked at the dictionary she was shoving at Viktor. With one last ditch effort, she shoved it and walked away.
"What's so funny?" Hermione placed her hands on her hips, looking at Vladimir, who was laughing hysterically, and Oleg, who turned his back on the group, snickering. "I'm only trying to help him. It's incredibly rude to make fun of someone who doesn't know how to speak a language!"
Viktor hadn't been this embarrassed since that night when his father explained how to handle his "needs." Yet here he was, facing a witch who not only humbled him but also embarrassed him within minutes.
He straightened his back and marched to stand in front of the curly-haired witch who had awoken something in him. Her warm doe eyes widened as he bowed slightly and kissed her hand, his lips brushing softly against her delicate skin.
"My name iz Viktor Krum."
The moment their skin touched, a thousand sparks coursed throughout him.
A delicate blush colored her cheeks. Her eyelashes fluttered and her mouth went agape. She peered at him through her lashes and something in her must have clicked because her brows shot up and she stared into his eyes. And for the first time, Viktor finally felt like she was looking at him and he had to swallow the knot that formed in his throat.
There was an egotistical part of him that wanted her to know who he was. He had never wanted someone to recognize him until now. Plus, there was no way for her to deny or ignore what they just felt.
While it was true that not everyone was inclined to accept the pull, and would rather ignore it. There was no way she could do that. It was unmistakable.
As he continued gazing into her light-brown eyes, he felt a surge of emotions—a mix of apprehension and excitement, a sense of being exposed and drawn in.
"Oh, how embarrassing!" She withdrew her hand and clutched her shirt.
But then again, maybe she already had someone.
Viktor smirked. She was finally going to see that he wasn't a total idiot.
"I thought you didn't speak English." A soft blush colored her cheeks. She looked at the dictionary, then at his friends and her blush darkened.
The more he looked at her face, the more interesting she became. His lips curled into a small smile. "English not too good."
"You aren't to ovv, Miss Granger." Vladimir approached them. He had this sparkle in his eye whenever he found something amusing. "His English is not good." He laughed one more time. He threw Viktor a knowing look and a smirk. "I dank you for your velcome." He grabbed Hermione's hand and kissed her knuckles.
She blushed again fueling Vladimir's ego. He clicked his heels together, much like Viktor had done, and kissed her hand again. "Dis is proper greeting for us."
"Oh." She blushed harder making Vladimir laugh.
He let go of her hand. Seconds later, Oleg did the same.
She looked behind the young men to the dock of the ship. "Should I um-go greet everyone?"
"Ne," Viktor interjected faster than was necessary. "No."
Here is your revised text with the suggested changes:
"Vat my friend means it is not necessary," Vlad explained. "Ve are," he took a second, "representatives."
"Ah, I see! Well, then we should head to the castle." She checked her watch and nodded. "We should be right on time for the feast."
Oleg raised a questioning eyebrow. His eyes darted to her small wrist. Miss Granger, though, didn't notice and pulled down her sleeve, covering the watch.
"Should we wait for your headmaster?" She asked hesitantly.
Viktor nodded, "No, he comes late."
"He'll be late?" Miss Granger asked, looking at the unmoving students at the dock.
Viktor scowled. He cursed himself for his poor English. She really must think he's stupid.
"No, he will meet us there," the blond smiled.
"What about the rest of your classmates?"
Vladimir and Oleg turned to look at the waiting students. Oleg strode off towards the ship.
The giant octopus continued its playful antics. It would curl a tentacle in different directions.
"Oleg will get them. Why don't we make our way there? We will meet them at the castle."
"Very well." She walked ahead of them. "This way, please."
As they made their way to the castle, an ominous forest stood to the right, its dark shadows reaching out across the landscape. The trees were tall and twisted, their branches gnarled and bent.
Vlad smiled and looked at Viktor, who was too busy observing the witch.
"She's… unique, isn't she?" The shorter wizard asked in Russian.
"Yes," Viktor replied, following the witch as she walked through a path. "I felt a pull."
"Is that why you forgot to speak?" He laughed.
Viktor scowled but kept his eyes on the girl. "Partially. I've never felt one so strong before."
Vladimir looked at his friend quizzically. "Not even with Eve?"
"No. What I had with Eve was good, but this feels," he stopped, trying to find the right words. "Strong, unique. It's like nothing I have felt before."
She stopped and turned around, opening her mouth but then closing it. She looked a bit apprehensive about whatever she wanted to ask. Instead, she asked them about their trip, to which they both replied, "Fine."
Now and then, she would tell them a historical fact about Hogwarts.
"Mm, I would congratulate you, but she's so different, I don't know if she's right for you."
Viktor nodded. "She looked like she was about to hex Igor."
Vlad snickered. "Yeah, I felt her magic crackle. She's either pretty stupid or pretty brave. But either way, she screams danger."
The seeker glanced at the witch again. "Maybe a little danger is good." He sighed and looked at his boots. "But she didn't do anything with the pull."
"Odd. Do you think she knows you're the youngest seeker in professional Quidditch?"
"No. She didn't recognize me." He almost said that if she did, there was no way she would have stepped away.
"You almost look disappointed, Vik."
She turned again and met Viktor's eyes, but she saw them talking and kept walking forward.
He scowled at his friend. He wasn't disappointed, per se, but it was surprising. "It's not that. It was surprising not getting recognized, especially after the Cup."
Ever since the start of the Cup, it had been almost impossible to go anywhere without being swarmed by the media or fans.
"Miss Grain-jer!" Vlad called out in English to the witch who seemed to be lost in her thoughts.
Hermione turned around, her curls dancing after her. "Yes."
Viktor glowered at his friend, but being used to his scowling face, Vladimir ignored him.
"Do you knov vho he is?" He slapped his hand over Viktor's chest.
She tilted her head, her curls bouncing along. Her doe eyes glanced from Vladimir to Viktor. She seemed to contemplate his question before answering. "Do you mean if I know he plays Quidditch?"
"Da," Vladimir answered. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and a mischievous glint glimmered in his eye.
Viktor's heart raced and he felt his palms get sweaty out of nowhere. It had been one thing thinking that she refused him because she didn't know about him, but it was something uncharted to be, what rejected, ignored? If she did know.
"Yes, I know." She replied almost looking bored. She continued to walk, almost as if running away from the conversation.
So she did know. And she didn't care.
"Oh, interesting."
Hermione didn't answer, instead, she started walking faster.
Vlad looked to see Viktor's stunned face mixed with something the blonde had never seen in his friend before; interest.
Vlad had a smug grin on his face. "I vill be honest, ve thought you did not knov."
Viktor smacked the back of his friend's head, but that didn't deter him.
Hermione didn't turn around like she did before. She kept walking forward. They were almost to the castle. "Why?"
The boy almost cackled but Viktor still looked utterly stunned.
"Vell, most people, most vomen would have zaid something to him."
"Mm, is that so?"
"Oh, yes."
"He has many vitches around him."
Viktor swatted his friend in the back of the head with more force than last time.
Up ahead they saw the school. The castle was made of gray stone, and it had many towers and turrets. The walls were thick and sturdy, and the windows were tall and arched.
"You know, he's the youngest Seeker in history."
She stayed quiet for what Viktor was sure hours, instead of the few seconds that passed all she said was. "Ah, yes."
Viktor recognized the distaste in her voice because he often used it to answer the same dull questions reporters asked.
Viktor finally spoke up. "You not like Quidditch?" His lip curled in distaste at his English.
The setting sun made her brown curls look like a crown of molten gold.
"No, not really." She looked at him unapologetically. "But I must admit watching you play is like watching dragons fly." Her lips quirked up. "You look like you belong in the sky."
His mouth lifted into a big smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling. It felt so refreshing to meet someone who didn't like the sport. Someone who wouldn't want to talk about it. Although he loved Quidditch, sometimes he needed a break.
Here's your text with grammar checked and the adjustments made:
"Vait, you don't like Quidditch but you saw him play?"
"Yes, at the World Cup. My friend's father invited me, and it felt rude to say no."
Vladimir's laugh filled the space. "So, you vent to the vorld cup out of obligation?"
Her cheeks turned rosy, and she scrunched her nose. "Well, I wouldn't say it like that. I did have fun watching Krum play."
"You hear that, Vik? She doesn't like Quidditch but she went to the cup!"
"Da, I hear." Viktor walked faster and moved closer to the witch. He wondered if it was the pull that urged him to be closer, but something inside of him told him it wasn't. In any other situation, he would have said something about how wasteful it was going to the cup out of obligation, but he found that he didn't care. She told him he looked like he belonged in the sky even though she couldn't have known how much those words meant to him.
The stone walls of the castle came into view. They walked through a large gate. She led them through winding corridors and moving stairs.
She stopped in a hall overlooking a courtyard.
She leaped onto a ledge and sat down. "I guess we can wait for the rest here. I hope they don't get lost."
"They will be okay," Vladimir reassured her. His blue eyes didn't leave his friend's face. "But I can go wait by the entrance."
Viktor raised a dark brow at his friend.
She got off the ledge. "Oh, in that case, I'll go with you."
"No, no need." He waved her off.
"Um, are you sure? It doesn't feel right to leave you alone. I'm supposed to be your welcoming guide."
Vladimir flashed a big smile and exchanged a look with Viktor. "Yes! Of course! I say you have been very velcoming. But I also need to use the little vizard's bathroom."
"I can show you where they are," she interjected, her brows a little furrowed.
"No, pleaze, I'm sure the portraitz can show me." He waved her off and started to walk further down the hall.
"Um, okay, if you are sure." Miss Granger's brows didn't stop furrowing. "We'll be here when you get back."
Viktor exchanged a look with his friend as he passed him by. Ah– there it was. That mischievous look in his eye when he always had a plan in mind.
She hopped on the ledge again and nervously stared at Vlad as he disappeared into a corner.
Viktor sighed and reclined his back against the cold stone wall.
Hermione was swinging her legs, her ankles crossed. Their eyes met, and she gave him a small smile.
"Miss Gra-e-in-ger."
She chuckled. "GRAYN-jer."
He grunted and scowled. He was off to a spectacular start. He cleared his throat and focused on each syllable. "Gra-yn-jer."
Miss Granger nodded. "Yes?"
Viktor searched his mind for the words he needed to ask why she looked like she was about to hex Karkaroff. What had she been meaning to ask before but stopped herself? But since he didn't have the words nor would it be polite to ask, he settled for something simple. "Vat do you like?"
She looked at him and blinked. She tilted her head and answered. "I like Arithmancy, reading, my cat Crookshanks, and pastries. Maybe not in that order, Crooks is pretty adorable." A warm smile spread on her face at the mention of her cat. "What about you Krum, what do you like?"
This witch was definitely interesting. He'd never met anyone that liked Arithmancy, well maybe besides Oleg. Her lack of interest in Quidditch was a breath of fresh air. It felt like she wanted to talk to him as a person, not as a Quidditch player.
He thought better of mentioning Quidditch since neither wanted to talk about it. "I like Transviguration." He pushed himself off the wall and walked to stand in front of her.
He ripped a gold button from his red coat and placed it on his palm. He took out his wand and pointed it at the button.
The button flashed before molding into a cat. The palm-sized cat blinked and shook its head, a rose in its mouth. The cat got up and moved around Viktor's calloused hand before dropping the rose and snuggling its head in his palm, letting out soft purrs.
Viktor smiled when he looked at Miss Granger's beaming face. Her eyes were bright and open, her rose lips were turned up in a smile, and her cheeks were rosy.
She let out a small exhale. "That's amazing!" Her eyes went to his and then back to the cat. "It's so cute!"
"Vor you." He extended his palm out to her. The small touch felt good, like a gentle caress that rippled through his senses.
"I couldn't—I mean, it's such a wonderful gift," she stammered.
"Please." He softly pushed his hand to hers. "For book."
She nervously nibbled her lip before cautiously opening her palms, allowing the cat to saunter over. The feline pranced about before sprawling onto its back. The rose toy bounced playfully between its paws until the cat deftly caught it in its mouth.
Miss Granger stared at the cat, eyes shining. "A rose?"
"Da. My mom has roses in home."
"It's beautiful."
She smiled at him and he felt something in him stir. It was something akin to the feeling of warmth and happiness. He felt like he could float on air. He smiled back at her, and she smiled even wider.
He wanted to tell her that roses were his country's national flower. How his mother grew over a dozen different varieties, both magical and non. How each variation took years to perfect and how white roses were his mother's specialty.
Realizing he must have been scowling, her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his cropped hair. "My English is so bad."
"I can help you," she offered.
Viktor arched a curious brow at her, his lips curling into a grin.
She stammered. "I mean, I don't mean to imply that your English is that bad." She blushed. "I mean, there's always room for improvement, you know." She looked down at the sleeping cat. "You're going to be here a year, so it's only logical that you would want to improve your English. I've heard that English is used throughout the world. Since you travel a lot, well, I assume you do, anyways, since you know you're a Quidditch star." She shook her head, her blush deepening. Her voice was quieter. "You know what you are."
She chewed on her bottom lip and looked at him. "Plus, it's kind of my job to be welcoming and helpful."
"Da." He reached to touch the cat. Viktor realized that he had been smiling the whole time. But he didn't mind it. It was fun watching the brunette get flustered. "You teach me English."
It certainly was different than the giggling girls he was used to.
Her eyes lingered on his calloused fingers.
Viktor smirked when she realized that she had been caught staring.
She straightened her back and cleared her throat. "So, how many languages can you speak?"
"Five, but English is my, um–"
"Weakest one," she finished for him.
"Da, veakest one."
He was doing something he knew he shouldn't. If Karkaroff found out, he would lose his shit, which would be fun if it's itself but too troublesome. Not only was Viktor distracted, but he was also distracted by the same witch who almost hexed him.
He took a small step closer to play with the cat. Was it necessary to get closer to play with the golden feline, no? He told himself it was the pull that made him so bold. If she stepped away, he would respect her and give her the space she wanted.
But fortunately for him, she didn't.
He dangled his pinky above the cat, taunting the cat. His finger grazed her middle finger. As the gentle pressure grazed his skin, a wave of warmth washed over him, a comforting sensation that spread like ripples across a tranquil pond. It was a touch so light, so fleeting, yet it ignited a spark of pleasure within him, a flicker of sensation that sent shivers of delight down his spine.
He looked at her, and in that moment, he was certain, utterly convinced, that she felt the same spark.
Her breath hitched when he lightly moved his finger. She bit her lip but refused to meet his eyes.
"It's really amazing you can speak five languages." Her eyes stayed glued to the cat. "It's not an easy thing to do."
He shook his head. "You?"
She let out a small laugh. "I unfortunately only speak English. I tried to learn French when I was in my third year in secondary school but I gave up when I got my letter to Hogwarts."
He was about to ask her what secondary school was when he heard heavy boot footsteps.
"What do we have here?" Vladimir asked with a curious smile in Russian.
Hermione instantly stepped away and carefully cradled the cat to her chest.
Viktor glowered at his friend.
The blonde's blue eyes tracked her movements and his eyebrows raised. "Well, this is certainly new. I hate to break this up, but Karkaroff is almost here." His friendly blue eyes hardened. "He's been drinking."
Viktor tsked and stepped away from the witch. "Headmaster iz coming."
She stiffened and her face darkened. A flash of fury passed by her eyes. She looked at Viktor and then Vladimir. She carefully stuffed the cat in her pocket and walked away from Viktor.
Viktor and Vladimir followed by standing perfectly straight away from the witch.
A moment later, a dozen boots sounded throughout the halls.
Karkaroff marched in, his presence commanding attention. The students promptly formed a line behind Viktor and Vladimir.
The Russian Headmaster's glare bore into Miss Granger, but she held her ground, squaring her shoulders before confidently leading the way toward The Great Hall.
Striding ahead of the Durmstrang group, the witch maintained her poise, refraining from engaging in small talk with the headmaster.
Navigating through several twists and descents on shifting staircases, they eventually arrived at The Great Hall, only to find the imposing double wooden doors firmly shut.
Miss Granger turned around and looked at Karkaroff. "I will let Headmaster Dumbledore you're here."
Karkaroff didn't bother to look at the young witch nor did even bother disguising his distaste for the witch. "Very vell."
Without a second look, she turned her heels and went inside. Viktor watched her as her wild curls disappeared. The whole time she cupped the pocket of her jumper.
Viktor and his classmates stood frozen, their postures unwavering, waiting for instructions.
Moments later, a raven-haired student from Hogwarts emerged, guiding the Beauxbatons contingent forward.
They wore long, flowing gowns in shades of blue and silver. Their hair was styled in elaborate updos, and their faces were adorned with delicate makeup. They stood with perfect posture, their heads held high.
Some ladies were chatting and laughing, while others stood quietly, observing their surroundings.
Upon spotting Viktor, they exchanged mischievous glances and playful giggles between themselves.
Viktor's brows furrowed, a storm brewing in his gaze as he fixed it upon them. The girls' laughter tapered off, their expressions shifting from amusement to unease as his eyes bore into theirs.
Their gigantic headmistress drew Viktor's attention. She was well over six feet tall, and she had a commanding presence. Even with her stature, she radiated the same poise and elegance as her students.
Karkaroff took the giant woman's hand and kissed it. "Madame Maxime, zo lovely to see you."
"Zank you Headmaster Karkaroff." She eyed Viktor and smirked. "I zee you brought ze bezt."
"Of course! I do vish you the best dough." He kissed her hand just in time for Dumbledore's voice to boom.
"The lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons!"
"Get ready." Karkaroff barked in Russian. "Viktor you'll walk with me."
Viktor scowled. He hated the attention, but Karkaroff only cared about attention.
In a beat of the minute, they strolled in. Viktor's classmates were behind him, their staffs pounding rhythmically against the floor.
"Is that Viktor Krum?"
"No way!"
"It's Viktor Krum!" Voices from every corner of the room said.
His eyes caught Miss Granger's hair in the far left corner of the room. He saw a red-headed boy lean into her and practically shout. "It is him! It's Viktor!" He shook Miss Granger by the arm.
Viktor turned all his attention to her but kept his head looking straight. He muttered a listening-enhanced spell under his breath.
He took a second to tune into her voice.
"It's Viktor Krum!"
"I am aware, Ronald."
"I can't believe he's here! Who would have thought he was still in school!"
That irritated Viktor, he hated when people assumed he had no interest other than quidditch.
"Why wouldn't he be?" Replied Miss Granger.
"Hermione, he's the best Seeker in the world! He doesn't need anything else! During his last two games, he broke two records. Even if Bulgaria didn't win the cup, his name is going down in Quidditch history."
She huffed in annoyance. "There's more to life than Quidditch."
Viktor couldn't see too well since he still had to face forward, but he saw the movement of multiple heads turn to her. His lips twitched, but he stopped them before Karkaroff noticed.
"Not when you are the best in the world!"
Viktor and his delegation sat at the greenhouse table with the snake. He sat next to a young boy with platinum hair. He felt a pair of eyes bore into him, he wanted to ignore him, but he knew it would be rude. He greeted the boy quickly and went back to listening.
Your text is well-written! Here's a revised version with minor adjustments for clarity:
"- I'm just saying! Why would you want to be in school when you can play Quidditch!"
He dared to look at their table and noticed Miss Granger's face starting to twist with anger.
"Ronald, he's more than just a Quidditch player!" She bit out.
His dark eyes stayed on her. She was the only person outside of his family and friends who had ever said that. She barely knew him, but she was defending him nonetheless.
"Huh? What else can he be?"
She inhaled, her hand going to her pocket. "He's a person first! And here, he's a student just like everyone else. Finishing your education is always going to be more important than a sport." She spoke out in one breath, looking up, and their eyes met. She blushed, immediately turning away and bringing a cup to her lips.
"Merlin, Mione, did you talk to him? Do you think you could get me an autograph?"
She slammed the cup on the table, and juice flew out. "You ask him yourself!" She wiped the table with a napkin, her eyes downcast. "I'm sure it must be annoying being pestered all the time. I'm not going to add to that annoyance."
He felt someone kick him under the table. Oleg and Vladimir were staring at him with wide expressions.
"Vic," Oleg called to him in Bulgarian. "Stop staring."
"And wipe that stupid grin off your face before Karkaroff sees you!" commanded Vladimir, tilting his head towards the headmaster who was turning around to see his students.
Viktor looked around and found that all of his classmates were staring at him with furrowed brows.
He raised the cup to his lips, using it as a shield to conceal the burgeoning smile that threatened to spread across his face.
Hermione
After the elegant witches finished their rather unique but boring performance, which had the boys swooning and the girls rolling their eyes, the boys of Durmstrang marched in, banging their staffs on the floor. In Hermione's opinion, this was a more interesting performance. Her mind worked to stay focused on the staffs and how their magic worked, rather than on the scowling Bulgarian walking up front.
Her eyes betrayed her, focusing on his dark, thick brows bunched. She felt that tether beckoning her to keep her eyes on him, but she willed the feeling away. She was not going to remember the way his smiles and touches made her skin alight and her heart thump out of control.
"It's Krum!" Ron yelled into her ear.
Foods Hermione had never seen before magically appeared on her plate. A bowl of deep crimson hue adorned with sour cream appeared next to tender chicken bathed in a rich sauce. Her mouth watered, and she took a little of everything.
The Great Hall pulsed with electric energy, all eyes drawn to Viktor and the Beauxbatons. Hermione's eyes were drawn to a couple of beautiful witches. Their almost silver hair and delicate faces looked so regal. She brought her hand to her wild hair that fully escaped her attempts for a braid and sighed.
Looking over at the Slytherin table, she saw Krum talking to Malfoy. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. She had been apprehensive about meeting the Durmstrang students, but she was pleasantly surprised to know they treated her like a person. The last thing she expected was to be greeted with a kiss on the back of her hand. It was rather cute, though extremely archaic. Should she have curtsied? Kissed their hands?
Her eyes moved from Krum, still scowling, to the blond on his side. He looked almost bored as he delicately brought a spoon of the red soup to his lips. Dimitrov's face was as impassive as Viktor's. However, the scars on his face made him a lot more intimidating. He turned to say something to Svoboda, and Hermione could have sworn she saw a glint of something in his ear. They had been rather…pleasant, not the evil dark wizards she expected.
Although she couldn't say the same for that headmaster of theirs.
Hermione stabbed a piece of meat. That man was atrocious! He was exactly what she pictured when she thought about purebloods and their bigoted ideals. Her blood almost boiled over when she watched the horrid man hit the elf.
If it hadn't been for Krum and his friends, she would likely have been in Azkaban by now.
There was something about the Bulgarian seeker that drew her in. She had experienced a pull towards some people. Glancing at Neville, she felt a subtle, almost imperceptible, pull.
She sighed, took her cup into her hands, and sipped her pumpkin juice. Ron's eyes were wide, and his jaw was slack. His mouth was slightly open, with a pea stuck to the corner.
"Ronald, close your mouth, you'll catch a fly!" Hermione swatted at his chest.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Say, Mione, did Krum talk to you?"
The whole Gryffindor table stopped eating and looked at her.
She sighed with irritation. "I've already told you, he only greeted me." She put a hand in her pocket and felt the cat purring. If she had told the truth, they would have snatched the cat faster than she would have been able to get away.
"Was he nice?" Parvati asked.
"Up close, he's really handsome," Lavender chimed in. "I mean, not like traditionally handsome, but he has something going for him."
"Ah, sure, who cares if he's a good-looking bloke or a grand fella when he's gone and lost, eh?" Seamus commented.
Hermione's peace was gone in the blink of an eye. The whole table got into a heated argument about something or other to do with Chasers and how the Irish won with dirty tactics.
She wondered when Dumbledore would announce the joint classes. The feast was almost over and there still hadn't been any mention. Would she be able to get everything she needed over the weekend? Maybe she needed to exchange her money with the goblins.
"He's looking over here!" Lavender and Parti squealed. She didn't need to look up to know who they were talking about.
She wanted to look at him, but she didn't trust herself. But she could almost feel his eyes bearing down on her. She thought she was going mental. Why would an international star be looking at her? But they did have that moment. Right? She could call it that right? It certainly felt like it.
But then again maybe not? A boy had never looked at her the way Krum looked at her. She was sure her heart was going to beat out of her chest when he touched her. Even as dense as she was there was no way she didn't understand that he was flirting with her. Or at least that's what it felt like. For a second when he approached, he thought he was going to make fun of her.
She reached for the golden cat happily snoozing in her pocket. But he didn't make fun of her. He gave her one of the best gifts anyone had given her. She wanted to ask him how she managed to transfigure two things from one button. Or how he was able to add such fluid movement. Maybe next time.
She laughed at herself. There was no next time. There was no way he was interested in her. And whatever she had felt when he touched her must have been her imagination. Right?
She glanced up at him. Hermione regarded Viktor Krum with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. She couldn't deny that he was an imposing figure, with his dark, penetrating eyes, crooked nose, and large, muscular build. Yet the way his eyes softened when they met hers told her that he was a lot more than met the eye. Not that she knew him, but the cat purring in her pocket told her otherwise.
Her attention was drawn from the scowling Bulgarian who looked like he was about to punch Malfoy in the face to a pop of green light dancing on the table.
She looked over at the twins, Lee and Seamus who were huddled over the table. Hermione furrowed her brows. This wasn't good. The twins plus Lee always spelled trouble, but adding Seamus to the mix was like adding flash powder to an open fire.
She nudged Harry with her elbow. "Do you know anything about that?"
He nervously swallowed his food. "You aren't going to like the answer."
"What do you me–"
An explosion of green colors erupted from the table. A dancing leprechaun danced around the table. It stopped and faced the Slytherin table. Oh, Merlin, this couldn't be good. The Bulgarian's Zmey Gorinin mascot flew in front of the green mascot. With one swift movement, it kicked the three-headed dragon's arse. 'Go Ireland' exploded from both mascots.
Viktor's scowl deepened as he glared at the four idiots. His jaw was clenched so hard Hermione was sure she could hear his teeth cracking. He wasn't the only one who was one hair away from hexing them. The rest of the Durmstrang students looked furious. Vladimir's usually calm demeanor was nowhere to be found.
Hermione swallowed the uncomfortable lump that had formed in her throat. Gone were the stoic-faced students. Harry gripped her forearm. "They are oozing magic." He squeezed a little harder.
The rest of Gryffindors' faces were pale, their lips pursed, and their eyes were wide.
Angelina smacked the twins and Lee's heads. "What have you done you, bloody idiots!" She hissed at them.
Dumbledore approached the podium in front of the grand table where the professors were eating. He raised his hand and everyone turned his attention to him.
The Hogwarts professors wore a mixture of embarrassment and horror on their faces. McGonagall's eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a thin line. The students could feel her anger radiating like heat from a fire. The professors from Beauxbatons looked more disgusted than anything else. Meanwhile, the Durmstrang professors looked like they expected nothing else.
Here's the text with corrected grammar:
"I daresay that was a bit of lighthearted fun." The headmaster turned to look at Viktor and Karkaroff. The Durmstrang headmaster's eyes remained cold and hard, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed into a deep crease, his eyes narrowed into slits, and his lips were drawn back into a snarl.
Hermione wondered how much of the fools' actions were bravery and how much was stupidity. You had to be either to make a whole bunch of students, who were known to study dark magic, angry.
The sour mood in the room faded the instant Dumbledore announced that this year they would have a Quidditch class. He then announced all the extra classes that would be offered and which professor would be teaching them.
Professor Ivar Sigurd was a towering figure with a mane of silver hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore traditional Nordic garbs. He must have sensed Hermione's eyes because he instantly met hers. She squirmed in her seat under the heavy scrutiny of her hopefully soon-to-be professor.
Class sign-ups would open up the next day. Students who needed materials would be allowed to go to Hogsmead to place their orders.
Hermione bounced on the ball of her feet as she waited to exit the throng of students leaving The Great Hall.
She wondered if they would study the fundamentals first of Nordic or Latin runes. It made more sense to start with the Latin runes, as they were the foundation of the Nordic runes. The Latin runes were older and more widely used, and they would provide a solid base for understanding the Nordic runes. But then again, Professor Sigurd was probably more inclined to start with Nordic runes.
She stopped in her tracks when an invisible thread made her look up. Viktor's dark eyes found hers like two magnets drawn together, an invisible force pulling them. His eyes were like pools of liquid obsidian, deep and mesmerizing, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.
"Hermione, let's go!" Harry called out to her.
She turned around, and Harry pulled her to his side. "What are you doing spacing out?"
"I–um, was–" That invisible thread pulled her to Viktor's eyes again.
Harry's grip on her arm, tight and abrupt, forcefully broke her intense staring contest with the Bulgarian wizard. "Harry, that kinda hurts," she murmured, wincing slightly.
Now it was Harry who was glaring at Viktor.
"Sorry, Mione. Let's get going; we don't want to miss McGonagall yelling at the twins."
Once they were down the hall, Hermione heard Headmaster Karkaroff's voice bark something in Russian. Their marching feet echoed silently throughout the hall until Hermione couldn't hear them anymore.