Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Once again, I can't thank silentclock enough for his help.
Chapter Seven
Harry brushed his damp fringe out of his bleary and bloodshot eyes as he stepped out of the hut, revelling in the morning breeze soothing his exposed skin. It was early. The sun had barely begun to warm the island, and the sea looked even more inviting after such a stifling, uncomfortable night.
Chrysi was silent, a stark contrast to the pandemonium that had erupted a mere handful of hours earlier. Many had headed straight home after the match, yet their departure had hardly dented the crowd, who had partied into the night and well into the early hours.
The English had taken to drowning their sorrows, which hadn't been a surprise. Confusion seemed to override most people's anger, and it had been no different for Harry. He'd joined many in wondering who had made the decision to restart the game so quickly, and just how there had yet to be any official word on what had happened.
Despite the silence of the morning, Chrysi was by no means deserted. The oppressive presence of hundreds of Aurors and Hit-Wizards was unavoidable, as they continued to patrol the island. Harry could feel the trained eyes watching his every move as he strolled down the street. They'd come from far and wide to give a helping hand in controlling the crowds. He even spotted a few vaguely familiar faces donning the forest green robes of the British Auror Force.
"Potter," said one of the Aurors with a thick Scottish accent, tipping his head as strode past.
Harry paused for a second, wondering how his notice-me-not charm had been breached, before continuing on towards the stadium with a little more vigour in his step. He was sure he must have forgotten to re-apply the charm, but he didn't dare re-cast it – he was already surrounded by a bunch of men and women who were suffering from lack of sleep. It would be in his best interests not to do anything that caught their attention. They'd surely be onto him within moments. Maybe he was being paranoid, but Harry had been around enough Aurors to know how they dealt with situations.
The crunching of glass underfoot bore witness to the aftermath of the match. Harry spotted scorch marks dotting a number of huts, and numerous windows were shattered, the shards of glass nestled in the sand. It hadn't been a battle. It would probably be best described as a scuffle more than a full-scale riot, although not for lack of trying from a small section of the English fans. Fuelled by alcohol and driven by embarrassment, something had triggered their anger. Or maybe they'd started it all by themselves, but Harry couldn't be sure.
The brawl hadn't lasted too long with the amount of Aurors on hand, ready and waiting to break up any fights. Harry had watched the whole thing from afar, even as Tonks had rushed in to help her colleagues. For once he had watched as an outsider, rather than being the person stuck in the very middle of it all.
Harry continued on around the stadium, treading over old tickets that had been discarded in the sand, littering the beach. Two teams of wizards and witches had already begun the clean-up job, Vanishing the scattered rubbish with sweeps and flicks of their combined wands.
It wasn't long before Bulgaria's training camp came into view. A two-storey stone building was situated in the middle of a wide, fenced-off area. Smaller buildings, mostly made of wood, were placed strategically around the main structure. Harry could feel the powerful wards washing over him as he neared, sending him a clear warning.
A number of gruff-looking guards patrolled the fence surrounding the camp. As brutish as they all looked, they appeared to be torn between smiling and trying their very best to look intimidating. The result wasn't pretty.
Harry put it down to Bulgaria's win, because he'd never seen a guard looking so delighted.
As Harry approached the main gate, the two guards stiffened. They may have been ecstatic, but there was a reason they'd been hired to protect Viktor Krum and the rest of the Bulgarian national team.
The closest guard looked down at Harry, his dark eyes narrowing a fraction. Harry looked back in interest. The man resembled a bulldog with his large body and squashed face. Harry wondered how he could stand being dressed in thick, deep red robes. He loomed over Harry, his wide neck and broad shoulders tensed. He barked something in Bulgarian, revealing two rows of jagged teeth.
Harry shrugged uselessly, not understanding a single word that had just been said. The guard looked over to his partner, who had been looking on intently.
Harry cleared his throat, making sure to raise his voice a fraction and carefully enunciate every syllable of each word, as if it would make the slightest bit of difference. "I am here to see Viktor Krum."
"Potter?" The man pointed at Harry's forehead with a large finger, a thoughtful look appearing on his face. At least that answered the most pressing question of the day so far, Harry thought. He had forgotten to re-cast the notice-me-not charm.
Harry nodded swiftly. "That's me, mate."
The guard's demeanour shifted, although he still looked a little wary. The same couldn't be said of his colleague, who was still watching them with an almost calculating expression.
The guard opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up a finger to stall his words, fumbling in his pocket to find the earpiece he'd used at the game. He pulled it out a moment later and stuffed it into his ear.
"Monsieur Potter?"
"Ah," Harry muttered, holding a finger up again. He pulled the earpiece out and switched the language from French to English, having no idea why he'd changed the settings in the first place.
"Can you prove you are Harry Potter?"
Harry lifted his fringe from his forehead, giving the guard a closer look. He peered at Harry's forehead with interest, now with a much better view of the cursed scar that had managed to dominate Harry's life.
"Aha! It truly is you! A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter." The guard took Harry's hand, shaking it vigorously.
Harry smiled politely, silently relieved even as he tried not to wince. His fingers were being crushed. The reaction from the guard surprised him somewhat – surely someone used to dealing with a team of Quidditch players, not to mention Krum, would have gotten used to being in the presence of well-known people.
"Could you get Viktor Krum for me?" Harry said, gesturing towards the gate and what lay inside.
"Mr Krum?" The guard looked unsure. "He is inside."
"Yeah, I know that. Can you go and get him?"
"You want to see Mr Krum?" The guard asked slowly, shifting his feet and looking decidedly uncomfortable.
There was no denying that the earpieces were a genius idea, but it was a real pain when you only had one of them on hand.
"Yeah, I do," Harry said, nodding quickly.
The guard must have trusted him, because he turned to his partner and said, "Inform Mr Krum that he has a visitor. Harry Potter is here to see him."
The other guard strolled inside without so much as a nod.
Harry watched him go, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach as best he could. He just hoped he could get some breakfast soon. He needed something to soak up the alcohol and the shops had yet to open, so all thoughts of replenishing his stock of the wonderful Hangover Potion had been dashed the moment he'd staggered out of bed.
"Could I have an autograph, Mr Potter?"
Harry looked up in some surprise. The now fidgeting guard looked hopeful. Why he looked so nervous was a mystery to Harry.
"Got a quill?" Harry asked, using one hand to mimic writing and using the palm of his other hand as parchment.
The guard seemed to understood as he took to rummaging through his robes in search of the writing materials. Wizards really did keep too many objects on their person.
Harry had been asked for his autograph a few times in the past, but it always surprised him when it happened. It wasn't that he disliked doing it – in truth, he hadn't given that many – but he struggled to understand why people even wanted them. In his mind, it was just a scribbled name on a spare piece of parchment, and the signature was often indecipherable anyway.
Idolising someone for great feats and sheer brilliance was something he understood, and for all his bravado, Harry knew better than anyone that he wasn't quite in such esteemed company.
The guard cleared his throat. Harry looked up, blinking as he noticed the crumpled parchment and half a quill.
"Right," Harry muttered, quickly signing his name.
"You are signing autograph's now, Harry? I thought you hated having to do those."
Harry grinned as he heard Viktor's voice.
"What language did you say that in?" Harry asked, turning around in time to watch Krum's rare smile drop a fraction.
"English. You do not speak Bulgarian. Do you?"
"Thank you, Mr Potter," the guard quickly said, neatly folding the parchment and placing it into his robes.
"No problem," Harry muttered and wandered over to Krum. "I don't speak Bulgarian, no. You can, though. I've still got the translator earpiece from the game."
"Thank you, but I wish to continue with my practise of your language," Krum said, pushing open the gate and gesturing for Harry to go through.
Harry refrained from wincing. "Right. You do that, mate."
Krum looked at him with an odd expression. "It is better than it was?"
"Err…" Harry wavered.
"I have been having lessons to improve," Krum said.
"Really?"
"I did not know so many rules could exist for such a language," Krum admitted. "Maybe I have just not noticed them in my own language."
"Maybe," Harry said. "Any reason you're practising? Haven't got some bird waiting for you in jolly old England, have you?"
Krum frowned, and Harry could almost see him trying to work out what the hell Harry had just said. "I do not understand. Why would I have a bird waiting for me?"
"Never mind," Harry said, chuckling lightly. "So, shall we?"
Krum followed Harry's gesture and nodded, leading the way down a clear pathway.
"I see you received my letter, Harry," Krum said. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Not a problem, Vicky. Although your timing couldn't have been much worse." Harry winced. "I was surrounded by Englishmen at the time. I think a second round of rioting would've broken out had they seen who'd written to me."
"I did notice the fighting," Krum said.
"Hmm, bit hard to miss, really," Harry said. "Couldn't get some breakfast in this place, by any chance?"
"I will call an elf for us," Krum said.
"It's the least you could do, really."
"Oh," Krum said, turning to look at Harry. "Why is that?"
"You did break my heart last night, you know. Worse than that, though, Sirius is going to complain for weeks on end about this."
"What did I do to upset you and Sirius?" Krum asked, looking genuinely baffled as he stopped at the door of a hut.
"Err, you beat us? You know, in the final…"
Krum's lips hinted at a smile, and his dark eyes lowered. "Yes, I would apologise for that…"
"I don't expect you to," Harry said, stepping into a large dining hall. "Congratulations, by the way. I didn't want you to win, but it wasn't like anyone was all that surprised. Apart from Sirius, that is."
"Thank you." Krum's eyebrows knotted. "I think."
Krum took a seat at a simple wooden table with two chairs on either side. Harry took the one opposite him. The dining room was a long, modest room, with simple tables set up in rows. It had also been designed to allow in the maximum amount of light.
Krum looked down at the table. "Water, please."
A glass of water popped out of nowhere, nearly spilling as it wobbled, before Krum quickly grabbed it.
"I'll never get why wizards feel the need to do that," Harry said with a frown. "What if you were speaking about food and it suddenly appeared?"
Krum blinked as he worked out what Harry had just said. "It's about intention, is it not?"
"Who knows?" Harry shrugged, although he did know. Two-way Charms were placed on the table and the kitchen, and keywords usually triggered the action. "Anyway, I'll take four slices of toast, browned and buttered. Two eggs, two rashers of bacon, and two sausages. Oh, and beans. Lots of beans. A cup of coffee as well, please. Black."
Krum raised a dark, bushy eyebrow. "Do you usually eat this much in the morning?"
"Err." Harry looked down as his plate appeared before him, the smell already assaulting his nostrils. A cup of coffee joined the plate a moment later. "Yeah."
Krum's shoulders shook with silent chuckles. "You have not changed, Harry."
"I'll have to soon, I suppose," Harry muttered, chancing a sip of his coffee. It was, unsurprisingly, very good. "I'm just trying to eat as much as possible before I'm legally obliged to stop doing so."
Krum glanced at the overflowing plate. "I can see that."
"So, tell me," Harry said, waving his fork at Krum. "What do I need to do to get into proper shape? I fear I had a rather humbling experience with Fred and George not so long ago. And yes, I know they're Beaters, so they're usually the strongest players in the air, but what about me?"
Krum's dark eyebrow raised an inch. "You are strong at magic, yes?"
"Well, um, yeah," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "Are you suggesting I cheat? 'Cause I could, you know. I reckon I'd get away with it, too."
"No!" Krum said quickly, nearly jumping out his chair in alarm. "No, I simply meant to ask if you are willing to duplicate your earpiece."
"Oh," Harry said, chuckling at Krum's reaction, and pulling out his earpiece. "You do know it only duplicates the objects appearance and not the magic, right?"
"You are powerful enough, Harry," Krum said with a firm nod. "I have seen wizards do such things before. And I have seen you perform advanced magic as well, I have every confidence in your abilities."
"I guess I could give it a try."
Krum waited patiently. Harry guessed the Bulgarian had gotten a little too irritated with trying to keep up. He'd been all right at the English language, for the most part, when he'd been at Hogwarts.
"Aha!"
"I do not see anything," Krum said, looking around frantically for the other earpiece.
"What?" Harry shook his head. "No, I haven't tried yet. I was just thinking about your English. Immersing yourself into the culture and all that, right? That's how you picked it up. I guess you've lost some it over the last few years."
"It is possible. It can be quite a challenge if no one else can speak English."
"You know," Harry said, pointing at the earpiece he'd placed on the table, "the makers of these little things probably put some sort of block on these. I'll be surprised if they can be duplicated."
"It does not need to work for long, Harry."
Harry grumbled to himself, nudging the earpiece with the tip of his wand. He cleared his throat. "Well, here goes nothing. Geminio!"
Nothing happened.
"That is unlucky," Krum said.
Harry glared at the earpiece. He'd forgotten what it was like to cast a spell and have nothing happen.
"Damn you, Vicky," Harry said. "I could feel something building, but it just refused to work."
"More power," Krum advised.
"Good thinking," Harry said with a nod. "That's what I always say. Geminio!"
The earpiece shot off like a rocket. Krum snatched it out of the air, completely taken by surprise. He winced slightly, flexing his hand.
"Nice reflexes," Harry muttered, trying not to sound too jealous.
Krum nodded slowly, placing the earpiece back on the table, before shuffling his chair around the table and out of the firing line.
"And you call yourself a Seeker." Harry snorted, eyeing the small earpiece with disapproval. "Geminio!"
A pop, a whistle, a small bang, and all of a sudden a hundred or more earpieces suddenly appeared out of thin air, clattering onto the table. Harry blinked and slid his chair back automatically.
"That," Krum said, "is why I moved."
"And that wasn't supposed to happen," Harry muttered. "Anyway, take your pick and see if it works."
Krum plucked a random earpiece off the table, inspected it, and shoved it into his ear. Harry pressed one into his ear as well, regardless of the fact it probably wasn't the original.
"Does it work?" Krum asked, moving his chair back around the table.
"Are you speaking Bulgarian?"
"I am."
"Then it works," Harry confirmed. He munched contentedly on a particularly crisp piece of bacon, when it occurred to him that Krum had yet to answer. "Well?"
"What do you mean?" Krum asked. He'd been busy gathering the earpieces and piling them on the other end of the table.
"How do I turn myself from complete novice to a relatively decent player?"
"Many people have asked me similar questions in the past, and I've told them all the same thing," Krum said slowly, an indecipherable expression on his face. "You have to practise."
"Well, yeah, that's a given," Harry said, placing his knife and fork onto his empty plate and pushing it away. "Anyone can train, though. What's so different about you? It can't just be your talent, surely? I know you're a prodigy and all, but there's got to be something more to it than that and training. What's the secret ingredient? What pushes you further into legend status while everyone else plays catch up?"
"I worked hard," Krum said seriously, and a tad defensively. "No one can simply be the best at what they do if they don't hone their skill."
"I guess it's a bit easier if you're already ridiculously skilful, isn't it?"
"You're a natural, are you not, Harry?" Krum said. "I remember you telling me the story. The first time you picked up a broom, you knew what to do."
"I'm not denying that I've got some natural talent, but I'm nowhere near your level," Harry said. "Hell, I'm nowhere near as good as you were when you were my age."
"I was coached from a young age." Krum dismissed Harry's argument. "While it is true, yes, that my ability was quickly discovered, I was still very young, and that only took me so far. My father taught me until he could no longer do so, and then I was coached by professionals. There is not a day of my childhood that I can remember where I was not in the air."
"Come off it," Harry said, chuckling a little incredulously. "Thousands of people have been coached, but nobody else is as good as you. You know as well as I do that you'd still be better than everyone else without the training."
"A matter of opinion," Krum said indifferently.
"Are you really going to sit there and tell me you don't think so?" Harry asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. "You're being called the best player to ever play. I don't care how much coaching you had, no one gets called that unless they're seriously bloody talented."
"It is impossible for me to compare myself with the greats," Krum said. "I have never seen them play. Maybe I'm as good as I am because of talent and hard work, but I'm sure I can't stop working."
"There isn't an easy option, is there?"
"No," Krum said quickly. "You will quickly discover that Quidditch will start ruling your life if you let it. Make sure you do not let that happen, or you will quickly become disillusioned with the game, and you will quickly find you haven't the heart to continue. When you are not training, stay away from even the sight of a broom. Spend time with your friends, relax, do what you want, but do not try and constantly think about the next game. No one can concentrate to their fullest all of the time."
"I'll be sure to do that," Harry said, nodding to himself as he thought of ways to relax. "Maybe I'll ask Tonks or Sirius to practise duelling with me. Or the twins, they're usually creative enough, and they always keep me on my toes."
Krum looked worriedly at him for a moment, before shrugging. "That is not what I would do to rest, but it is up to you."
"What do you do, then?"
"I spend most of my time with Mila."
"Mila?"
"My girlfriend." Krum smiled.
"Oh, yeah, I remember reading something about that." Harry thought maybe Hermione had mentioned it way back when. "What do you two get up to, then?"
"Oh, you know," Krum said blithely, his smile yet to disappear.
"It's like that, is it, Vicky?" Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"You will have to meet her one day," Krum said, completely ignoring Harry suggestive tone.
"Looking forward to it."
The plate and empty mug of coffee unexpectedly blinked out of existence.
"Come on, we've been putting it off for too long," Harry said.
Krum sighed, getting to his feet. "Yes, I suppose we have."
Krum led the way out of the canteen and out into the grounds, which were still deserted. The hut Harry stepped into was much larger than the one he'd been staying in.
"Have a seat," Krum said, sitting in one of the two armchairs and gesturing to the other.
Harry took the other chair, but his eyes were on the coffee table separating himself and Krum. Or more specifically, the artefact on show.
"Beautiful, is it not?" Krum said proudly.
The World Cup trophy was enormous. He could see a few noticeable smudges on the polished silver. Bulgaria was the newest nation to be engraved into the side.
"How come you've got it?" Harry asked curiously.
"I am the captain."
Harry nodded. It made sense. "I want to win it."
"You have a long way to go," Krum said. "Maybe one day you will get your wish."
Visions of himself holding the trophy aloft sprang to Harry's mind. He could hear the crowd singing his name at the top of their lungs. Last night's match had instilled a desire within him that he didn't know he had.
Krum seemed unfazed by everything that came his way, from absolute adoration to bone-breaking fouls. He simply took it all in his stride, knowing that was the price he had to pay.
"Congratulations again, by the way," Harry said, turning to look at the Bulgarian. "I've flown with a few of the players who played last night. You made it look ridiculously easy."
"Thank you," Krum said. "I can assure you it was not as easy as you think, though. I can only wish you good luck for your first season. Stewart Ackerley was very fast last night."
"And so the unmentionable gets mentioned." Harry sighed. "Go on then, what's your take on last's night's main talking point?"
Krum twisted in his seat, reaching down the side of his chair. "Do you want champagne, Harry?"
"What?" Harry asked at the non-sequitur.
Krum picked up a bucket and set it on the table, next to the trophy. The neck of a champagne bottle bobbed in the sloshing water, which Harry guessed was the result of the ice melting overnight. "We were given champagne last night. Do you want some?"
"Err, go on, then." Harry waited patiently for the glass to be passed over. He took a small sip and grimaced.
"As to your question, everything is still unclear at this moment," Krum said.
"Yeah, I thought it would be." Harry nodded. "It happened so fast last night. One minute I thought we'd won and the next we were playing again. A fake Snitch, though? I've never heard of that happening before. The commentator didn't really say much about it last night, but I figured that was because no one really knew much at that point."
"It will likely be taken to the courts, Harry," Krum said. "The I.A.Q will not like what happened last night. They will want answers soon, and the public will be demanding them."
The I.A.Q – International Association of Quidditch – was the governing body in charge of international Quidditch teams, rules, and tournaments, and they wouldn't take too kindly to something happening in the final of the World Cup. Harry grimaced at just the thought.
"I just hope Ackerley doesn't take the brunt of their anger," Harry said.
"How do you know it wasn't his plan? He could have cheated."
"It isn't likely, but possible?" Harry shrugged. "Do you think he cheated?"
"No, I do not," Krum said, shaking his head. "I do not know Ackerley very well, but I do not think there are many players who would try something like that."
"It was a massive game, though. Can you imagine if he'd got away with it?"
"That is why I fear the I.A.Q will punish him."
Harry feared that as well. Players who had been found guilty of cheating in the past had rarely gotten off lightly, with punishments ranging from four-game suspensions all the way to lifetime bans.
"It is unlikely there will be any evidence," Krum said. "People are each given Omnioculars to record each individual player, so they will be inspected. Ackerley should know that."
"I think most people agree it was thrown in from a fan," Harry said. He wondered who could be stupid enough to do such a thing.
"I agree."
"What did you think about Fred and George not playing last night, anyway?" Harry asked. There really wasn't much to say about last night's antics, mostly because there wasn't all that much known about it.
"It was a surprise they didn't play, but only because they'd played every other game in the tournament," Krum said. "I heard the anger from the crowd as well, but I think Sawbridge made the correct choice."
"You do?" Harry asked in some surprise. "Don't let Fred and George hear you say that."
"Yes, they can sometimes let their emotions get the better of them, which would be disastrous in a final. They are very good players, and I think they will get better."
"Huh," Harry said, storing that information.
"They are very fast and not easy to escape, they can also hit the Bludgers quickly and powerfully."
"Tell me about it." Harry grimaced. "Those two were in my trial. I can't remember all that much of it, but I woke up in hospital the next morning."
Krum nodded, as if he'd expected nothing less. "I see. I must admit, it surprised when they turned professional."
"Not many people saw it coming," Harry agreed. "They were planning on opening their own shop for years, but they never had the money to make it happen."
"The joke shop, yes?" Krum asked unsurely.
"Yeah, that's the one," Harry said. "I offered them the money, but they turned it down. I think you inspired them."
"I inspired them?"
"Well, yeah," Harry said. "The stories you used to come out with inspired me as well. Professional Quidditch, travelling all over the world to play Quidditch – what's not to love?"
Krum appeared to be genuinely surprised by the news. Harry could remember when Krum would have everyone captivated with his tales, though. He would usually tell them after he'd soundly trashed Harry, Fred, George, and Cedric in Hogwarts stadium. If the weather had been bad, the group had found an abandoned or hidden room, or they'd simply taken to the stands if the weather had help up.
"Do you remember how that all started?" Harry asked. "When we met, I mean."
Krum frowned. "It was in the Great Hall, yes?"
"I'm not talking about that," Harry said, waving his empty glass wildly. "I'm talking about when you showed up and had a go on my Firebolt, and thoroughly embarrassed me in the process."
Krum chuckled softly, something which had seemed strange the first time he'd done so in front of Harry. The usual surly attitude and demeanour had dropped when Krum had gotten to know everyone and felt comfortable.
"I remember, Harry. I could not wait to meet you after I saw you flying against the dragon in the first task. I wished I had thought of it."
"You said the same thing back then." Harry laughed. "Cedric said he wished he'd thought of it as well."
"His death was such a shame," Krum said. "He was a good friend, and very talented on a broom."
Harry nodded, the memories of not so long ago coming back to him. "The best year of school for me, but probably also the worst in many ways."
It was hard not to remember Cedric without thinking of his death, but Harry could remember the person he'd actually been. Everyone knew him as the quintessential good guy, but what people didn't know was he had been as hard as nails as well.
Harry chuckled. "Did I ever tell you how I got to know Cedric?"
"No, you did not." Krum shook his head. "I've always wondered. Hogwarts always seemed to pride itself on House loyalty."
"Ah, that's just the stuck-up fools and the gits who can't make friends," Harry said with a scoff. "Cedric was as tough as they come, I tell you. It was us against Hufflepuff in my third year. It was pouring down with rain. Dementors were around the school at that time, and you know they came straight onto the pitch? You know my history. I had a bit of a hissy fit, but Cedric? He played on and caught the Snitch while everyone else was scared shitless. Cedric didn't even realise Dementors were on the pitch!"
"That sounds like Cedric," Krum said, his laughter joining with Harry's. "I would bet all of my fortune that he apologised?"
"He went one better," Harry said with a grin. "He offered me a re-match."
"Did you take it?"
"No." Harry shook his head. "I wasn't happy that I'd lost, but Cedric won fair and square. He wasn't happy with the way he'd won, though – thought he'd had it too easy. He came to me a few days later and said he'd thought of the next best thing – a one-on-one race for the catch."
"Is that how it started?" Krum asked curiously.
"Yeah," Harry said. "After that first time, we just sort of kept going. We set up some rules the first time, so we were both on equal footing. I couldn't use my Firebolt, for instance, so we just used the school brooms."
"Who won the first time?"
"Cedric. He just beat me," Harry admitted. "That's how it all started, though. It was a friendly rivalry, I suppose, but he became quite a good friend after that. Fred and George started joining in as well. We were their targets."
"And then I joined in for a year," Krum said.
"And neither Cedric or I caught a Snitch for a whole year," Harry grumbled
Krum raised an eyebrow. "Cedric got closer than you ever did."
"Only because the rest of us ganged up on you," Harry said frankly.
"He still got closer than you ever did, Harry."
"Yes, well…"
"In memory of Cedric, then," Krum said, raising his glass.
Harry returned it. "For Cedric."
"All of you always told me I would win this tournament."
A memory flashed across Harry's mind, and he couldn't control his snickers. "Oh, that's some irony for you."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you remember the night Fred and George made a bet with you?"
Krum shook his head.
"They bet that you'd win the World Cup, and you accepted," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. "You knew you were going to win it one day, didn't you? I'll let them know they owe you when I see them."
Krum frowned. "I do not think it would be very nice of me to ask for their money."
"Up to you." Harry shrugged. "I'd take it, though. They bet me that you'd never pluck up the courage to ask Hermione to the Yule Ball."
"Oh," Krum said, his eyebrows creasing a fraction. "Is that why you introduced us?"
"Not really, I was going to introduce you anyway."
"Do you still speak with her?" Krum asked.
Harry looked away. "Err, no, not really. I haven't spoken to her all summer, actually."
"Why not?"
"We kind of just… drifted apart, I guess."
"What happened?" Krum asked.
Harry cast his mind back to fourth year. It had been his breakthrough year in terms of friends and relationships and everything in-between, and it had certainly opened his eyes to both the very best and the very worst things in the world.
"Funny that you, of all people, should ask that," Harry said. At Krum's questioning glance, Harry continued. "You know Ron Weasley, right?"
"He is the ginger boy, yes? Fred and George's little brother?"
Harry didn't think Ron would take too kindly to being described quite like that. "That's the one. Anyway, he had a bit of a thing for Hermione, so when he found out I'd introduced you to her, he blew his top."
Krum frowned. "Blew his top?"
"He got a bit angry," Harry explained.
Krum nodded in understanding. "Is that why you and Hermione don't speak?"
"That was just the start of it," Harry said. "After fourth year, everything seemed to change. You were there, you know what I mean."
At the start of the year, when Harry's name had flown out of that damned Cup, there had been uproar at Hogwarts. Just as the whole school seemed to turn on Harry, Cedric had announced he was delighted with the outcome, and he let just about everyone know he was happy with the new competitor. Cedric had believed Harry, and with Cedric's backing, most of the school had simply gone along with him.
Ron hadn't accepted it, though, and it had finally spilled over when he accused Harry of betraying him. Ron had refused to speak to Harry, and Harry ended up benefitting from the situation. He'd taken to spending more time with Cedric, Krum, and Ron's twin brothers. They'd convinced him to ask Parvati to the Yule Ball, they'd forced him to dance, and he'd surprised himself by thoroughly enjoying himself. Harry's first relationship was born that night, and with everything that was happening, he hardly noticed when the months passed without Ron uttering a single word to him.
"He did not like me, did he?" Krum said.
"You can say that again." Harry chuckled. "Don't worry, he wasn't too fond of me, either. He didn't speak to me all year, although I didn't attempt to talk to him, to be fair."
"That still does not explain why you and Hermione do not speak."
"Calm down, I'm getting to it," Harry said. "So, after everything that happened, Ron was a bit different when we went back for our fifth year. He wasn't happy that Hermione was staying in contact with you, so he concocted a plan to get his own back. It didn't work, of course, but Parvati got so annoyed with him hanging around me all the time, she set him up with Lavender. Merlin knows why."
"Who is Lavender?"
Harry had to smile. He still couldn't believe his ex-girlfriend had been so stupid. "Parvati's best friend."
"Wait," Krum said, holding up his hand. "Parvati tried to set Ronald up with her best friend, even though she did not like him?"
"Oh yeah," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "The girl could retain beauty charms with ease, but she could be as dumb Goyle sometimes."
"Who?"
"Never mind," Harry muttered.
Krum shifted in his chair. "Hermione did not mention any of this to me. She just spoke about how scared she was for you. She also said she was frustrated. She did not think you were including her in anything."
Harry winced. "Yeah, fifth year got off to a good start for me, or at least I thought it did. Dumbledore had been teaching me all summer-"
"That must have been fascinating."
"Yeah, it was…" Harry said. "Voldemort was back, of course, so I was only focused on him. I'd been busy all summer with Dumbledore. He was teaching me as much as he could and forcing me to practise every day. I didn't see or hear from many people that summer. I was shut inside, so when I actually did go back to Hogwarts, I don't think I realised what people thought about me."
"Hermione did mention this," Krum said.
Harry briefly wondered how much Hermione had told Krum, but continued on with his story. "That was the beginning of the end for mine and Parvati's relationship as well. Ironically enough, she's the reason Hermione and I aren't as close any more."
"It is Parvati's fault that you and Hermione-"
"It wasn't her fault," Harry said quickly. "Oh, no, it was my fault. Parvati's just the reason. See, Ron was with Lavender. He spent every waking minute with her, and Parvati wanted the same with me. I took the easier option of spending most of my time with her, so I didn't see much of Hermione. She and Ron could hardly stand to share a room for five minutes, and I was spending a lot of time on damn double dates."
Krum nodded and drained his drink. "Carry on, Harry."
Harry had the vague impression Krum was mocking him, but he did carry on. "I left Hogwarts for about six weeks. It might have been longer, it's all a bit of a blur to me. It was Dumbledore's idea. Voldemort was planning something, and let me tell you, you learn and practise a hell of a lot more when he's trying to kill you. Anyway, I returned to school after Voldemort was gone, and Parvati split up with me then and there. But what was I supposed to do? Drop everything, which would have meant letting Voldemort kill me, basically, just to spend time with my girlfriend? I don't think so."
"I agree," Krum said.
"I felt a bit guilty about not spending much time with Hermione, and whenever I spent time with her after that it just wasn't the same. Ron was still doing his best to glue himself to Lavender, so I starting hanging around with Fred, George, and Lee. So, yeah, that's how Hermione and I drifted apart."
"I do not speak with her anymore," Krum admitted.
"I still do, and I still talk to Ron as well, but I spend most of my time with the guys these days," Harry said.
"The guys?" Krum asked.
"Seamus, Dean, and Neville," Harry said.
How that group had formed was another story altogether. Sirius and Harry had gone to a Quidditch match in the summer before sixth year, and Seamus and Dean were there supporting Kenmare Kestrels, and there hadn't been a moment's peace for the rest of summer.
They'd bumped into each other again on the Hogwarts Express, and Harry had never laughed so much on his way to school before. Fred and George had left Hogwarts by that time, so Harry had spent nearly all of his time with Seamus and Dean, and Neville had started hanging around with them soon after.
The door opening jolted them from their conversation.
"Oh, Viktor, you must try the- oh!" A tanned woman stopped short when she spotted Harry, staring at him for a moment before turning to Krum. "Viktor?"
Krum stood up. "Harry, this is Mila," he said, pulling Mila into a brief hug and kissing her softly on the cheek. "Mila, this is Harry, a good friend of mine."
"Harry Potter? The one you've told me stories about?" Mila asked, tilting her head as she looked Harry over with dark, tempting eyes.
Harry wasn't ashamed to say he stared right back. Mila looked like she'd been enjoying her time in Greece – her healthy tan was evidence of that. Her full lips seemed like they would be incapable of frowning. Waves of dark hair trailed over her one shoulder, and Harry's respect for Krum went up a notch.
"Nice to meet you," Harry said.
Mila frowned and looked to Krum. "What did he say?"
Krum repeated Harry's words.
"It's very nice to finally meet you after hearing so much," Mila said, kissing Harry once on each cheek.
"It's just a pity I can't stay longer," Harry said.
"You're leaving, Harry?" Krum asked.
"Yeah, got the Portkey home soon," Harry said, shaking Krum's hand firmly and pulling him into a one-armed hug. "We'll have to catch up again some time."
"If I am ever in England, I will be sure to see you," Krum said.
"I'll look forward to it," Harry said, pulling open the door. "It was lovely to meet you, Mila. Nice going, Vicky. She's a lot different to Hermione, I'll give you that much. Not as pasty. Ta-ta."
"Yes. Goodbye, Harry," Krum said, purposely ignoring Mila's questioning look.
Harry whistled to himself as he made his way out of Bulgaria's camp. He had a few weeks left until the official start of his career, and in the meantime he'd be spending time with Fred and George, trying to get into a bit of a routine with his training before the real thing.
"Thank you for the autograph!" The guard waved cheerily, generating some odd looks from his co-workers.
Harry conceded to himself he'd have to get used to a hell of a lot of work, and he'd likely be signing more of those damned autographs as well.