Chapter 9
Harry sat at his desk, a soft glow from the candle illuminating the parchment in front of him. His quill hovered over the page, as he re-read the last letter he received from Viktor
Dear Harry,
You vill not believe the summer I had! It seems everything here is focused on this tournament I mentioned before. The Triwizard Tournament. Big news, very dangerous. I am not allowed to say too much, but it is old, ancient, maybe. A competition between three schools—our Durmstrang, your Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons. I am...well...you’ll see soon enough what I am up to.
I vill be coming to Hogwarts soon for it. I...I am looking forward to seeing you again, very much. Durmstrang doesn’t have anyone like you. Our talks, our letters...they mean more than I expected. I remember our last conversation at the World Cup. You are different from most of the people I know, not like others in Durmstrang or even my family. You are...good.
I hope you have been thinking of me too. Perhaps we can talk again like we did before, when we are alone. I want to know more about you, your summer, your life...everything. Vhat did you say...how did you put it...I vant to 'catch up.'
Do not worry about this tournament. It vill be...interesting. But there are other things I am more excited for, like seeing you. Have you missed me as much as I have missed you? I hope so.
Yours, Viktor
Harry felt the familiar warmth creep up his neck as he read Viktor’s words. It was clear how Viktor felt—blatantly clear, in fact. He wasn’t used to someone being so direct with him. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the awkward tension in his chest. Viktor wasn’t just a friend; there was an edge to their exchanges, something neither of them had outright acknowledged but hung between them like a spell waiting to be cast.
Harry dipped his quill in ink, responding with his usual half-awkward, half-curious tone
Dear Viktor,
I didn’t know about the Triwizard Tournament. It sounds...intense. I’ve read about it before, but I didn’t think it would be brought back, not with everything happening nowadays. Is it really as dangerous as they say?
I’ve been thinking about you too. The World Cup feels like it happened ages ago, and...I don’t know, things have changed since then. A lot happened when I got back to school—people I thought I trusted turned out to be different than I expected. I’ll tell you more when we meet.
I miss our talks too. It's funny, reading your letters is like having someone who actually listens. It’s hard to explain, but it’s different with you. I’m glad you're coming to Hogwarts for the Tournament, maybe we can ‘catch up’ again, like you said.
Take care, and I’ll see you soon.
Yours, Harry
Harry read over his words, unsure of how Viktor would interpret them. Did he sound too eager? Too distant? Viktor was so confident, so sure of himself, and Harry...well, he wasn’t exactly an expert at this. He folded the letter carefully and sent it off with Hedwig, who hooted softly as she took flight into the night.
The familiar whistle of the Hogwarts Express echoed through the station as Harry boarded the train. The platform bustled with excited students, but Harry kept his distance from most of the noise. Fred and George had caught up to him as he loaded his trunk, exchanging knowing glances and cheerful banter to keep his spirits up.
“So, Harry, any summer revelations you want to share?” George asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Besides writing mysterious letters all summer.”
Fred snickered, nudging his brother. “Yeah, you’ve been awfully secretive, mate. What gives?”
Harry smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was grateful for the twins. They were the only ones in the Weasley family who hadn’t betrayed him—whether it was conscious or not—and they had become his safe harbor amid the growing tension. “Nothing much,” Harry replied casually. “Just...learning a few things about myself.”
“Well, you’re in for a surprise this year,” Fred said, winking. “Bet you didn’t expect what’s coming.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, curious.
“The Triwizard Tournament, of course,” George chimed in. “Big deal this year. We overheard Dad talking about it.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Triwizard Tournament?”
Fred and George exchanged grins. “Oh, mate, you’ve got no idea. There’s a lot they haven’t announced yet. But trust us, it’s going to be exciting.”
The Great Hall was buzzing with energy as Harry and the other students filed in. Candles floated high above, casting a warm glow over the long tables, and the enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky outside. Harry, along with Fred, George, Luna, and Neville, took their seats at the Gryffindor table.
He glanced down the table at Ron and Hermione. They had barely spoken since his return from the summer, and Harry kept his distance intentionally. The betrayal still stung, even if they didn’t know that he knew about their involvement in the Weasleys’ plan to manipulate him with Amortentia.
“Strange summer, wasn’t it?” Neville said, breaking the silence.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Luna leaned in, her dreamy eyes focused on Harry. “You seem different, Harry. Lighter, in a way. It’s a good thing.”
“Thanks, Luna,” Harry said, appreciating her insight. “I guess...I’ve had some time to figure things out.”
Before they could continue, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Dumbledore rose to address the students. The chatter died down instantly as everyone turned their attention to the headmaster.
“Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore began, his voice calm but commanding. “This year will be unlike any other, for we will be hosting a very special event—the Triwizard Tournament.”
Excited whispers rippled through the hall as students exchanged curious glances. Harry’s mind drifted back to Viktor’s letter.
“As you may know, the Triwizard Tournament is a magical competition between three schools—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. It is a test of bravery, intelligence, and magical skill. But it is also dangerous, and those who enter must be prepared to face significant risks.”
Fred nudged Harry. “See? Told you it’d be exciting.”
Dumbledore continued, “In October, our guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive, and the selection of champions will take place. I urge you all to prepare yourselves for what is to come. Now, let us feast!”
As food appeared on the tables, the excitement in the room was palpable, but Harry felt a mixture of anticipation and dread. The Triwizard Tournament was serious, and Viktor was going to be part of it. His thoughts were interrupted by Neville.
“Do you think you’ll enter, Harry?” Neville asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
“No way,” Harry replied quickly. “I’ve had enough dangerous stuff for a lifetime.
Luna smiled softly. “Still, it will be interesting to see how it unfolds.”
The first week at Hogwarts felt strange. Harry had grown accustomed to the distance between him and the Golden Trio. Ron and Hermione tried to engage him in conversation, but he remained distant, guarded. They had no idea what he had uncovered, and Harry wasn’t ready to confront them just yet.
Fred and George, on the other hand, provided a sense of normalcy, their mischievous antics offering a brief escape from the heavy truths weighing on Harry’s mind. But there was always a sense of loneliness lingering in the back of his mind, despite having Luna, Neville, and the twins.
One night, as Harry wandered the dimly lit corridors, he accidentally bumped into Draco Malfoy.
“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” Draco sneered, his trademark arrogance seeping through his voice.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re standing, Malfoy,” Harry shot back, feeling the tension rise between them.
They stood there, glaring at each other for a moment, but something in Draco’s expression shifted. “What’s your problem, Potter? You’ve been acting strange since the summer.”
Harry hesitated. “It’s none of your business, Malfoy.”
Draco’s gaze narrowed. “Maybe not, but you’re not the only one who’s had a rough summer.”
The words surprised Harry. He expected Malfoy to insult him, to mock him, but instead, there was something...different. They stared at each other, the tension thick in the air, but it wasn’t the same as before. It was almost...understanding.
“Just stay out of my way, Malfoy,”
Harry didn’t wait for Draco’s response. He turned on his heel and stalked away, the cold stone floors of the corridor echoing beneath his feet. As he walked, his mind raced, still processing the strange encounter. Draco had seemed different—less venomous than usual, almost like there was something unspoken between them. It left a knot of confusion twisting in Harry’s gut. He wasn't sure if it was just his paranoia or if Draco really had changed.
The first weeks of term flew by in a blur of awkward meals in the Great Hall and even more awkward classes. Harry kept his distance from Hermione and Ron, their usual seats at his side now occupied by Neville, Luna, Fred, and George. The tension between him and his former best friends had grown palpable, though neither of them seemed to fully understand why Harry had become so distant. Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it all under wraps—his knowledge of the Amortentia and compulsions, the manipulations that had shattered the trust he once had.
The only thing that offered any reprieve from the constant strain was Viktor’s letters. They arrived with surprising frequency, each one making Harry smile, even if it was a little awkward to respond. Viktor was far more forward than Harry was used to. Flirting came naturally to the older boy, his words confident and unashamed. Harry, meanwhile, fumbled through his responses, unsure how to meet Viktor’s level of openness.
Still, something about their correspondence felt good. Viktor listened, really listened, and didn’t pry or judge when Harry skirted around certain topics. It was refreshing, even if Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the growing feelings between them.
The day had finally come. The Triwizard Tournament was no longer just a rumor; today, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were set to arrive. The air was thick with anticipation as the students gathered outside, eager to see their new visitors. Harry stood with Luna, Neville, Fred, and George, trying to keep his nerves at bay. His stomach was in knots—not because of the Tournament itself, but because he was about to see Viktor again, in person.
He tugged at the edge of his sleeve nervously as the students around him whispered excitedly about the approaching schools.
“Do you think Viktor will remember you?” Fred teased, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
George grinned. “Oh, I’m sure he will. There’s no forgetting the Boy Who Lived.”
Harry shot them both a look, but his smile betrayed the anxiety gnawing at him. He hoped Viktor wouldn’t act too familiar in front of everyone; he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the attention if Viktor’s flirtatious nature was as bold in person as it was in his letters.
The sky grew darker as the massive Beauxbatons carriage descended from the clouds, its powder-blue horses thundering toward the ground. The students gasped in awe as the elegant carriage landed with a soft thud, its doors swinging open. Out stepped the towering figure of Madam Maxime, her presence commanding attention.
Beauxbatons students filed out behind her, each one as graceful and poised as the last. They were draped in sleek, sky-blue uniforms that shimmered in the dim light of the late afternoon. Harry watched them, his heart pounding in his chest. The tension in the air grew thicker as Karkaroff’s ship emerged from the lake.
A cold, ominous breeze swept through the crowd as the Durmstrang ship broke through the surface of the water, rising like a specter from the depths. The ship was ancient, its dark, weathered wood creaking as it settled by the shore. Karkaroff was the first to step onto land, his cold, calculating eyes sweeping across the Hogwarts students. Behind him, the Durmstrang students followed, their heavy cloaks billowing dramatically in the wind.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Viktor step off the ship. Viktor looked just as imposing as Harry remembered, his tall figure cutting through the crowd as he walked. But his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—scanned the crowd with purpose. They locked onto Harry almost immediately, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat.
Viktor broke away from the group, ignoring Karkaroff’s sharp glance, and made his way directly toward Harry. The students around them hushed, whispering as they realized the famous Quidditch star was walking straight toward the Boy Who Lived.
“Harry,” Viktor greeted him, his voice deep, his accent still thick but familiar.
“Viktor,” Harry managed to say, his mouth dry. He didn’t know what else to say, but Viktor’s presence, his smile, made his thoughts blur.
Without hesitation, Viktor pulled Harry into a firm embrace, one that was more intimate than Harry had expected. He could hear the gasps of surprise from those around them, but he didn’t care. His face flushed a bright red as Viktor stepped back, his hand lingering on Harry’s shoulder.
“It is good to see you again,” Viktor said, his voice low and warm. “I have been looking forward to this.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but his mind was blank. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, especially not in front of so many people. “Yeah...me too,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
The whispers around them grew louder, but Viktor seemed unfazed by the attention. His eyes remained locked on Harry’s, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Before Harry could gather his thoughts, Karkaroff’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “Viktor! Come. We have much to discuss.”
Viktor glanced back at Karkaroff, his expression tightening for a moment before he turned back to Harry. “I will see you soon,” he promised, his hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder gently before he finally stepped away, returning to Karkaroff’s side.
As Viktor walked away, Harry could still feel the warmth of his touch lingering on his skin. His heart was racing, and his mind was spinning. The entire school had just witnessed their reunion, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Fred and George were grinning like madmen, their eyes wide with amusement. “Well, Harry,” Fred said, his voice full of mirth, “I think it’s safe to say Viktor missed you.”
“Yeah, and half the school just saw it,” George added with a wink. “Good luck keeping that under wraps.”
Harry groaned inwardly, but a small smile tugged at his lips. As awkward as it was, there was something undeniably comforting about Viktor’s presence. He wasn’t sure what their relationship was exactly, but for the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he wasn’t alone.
As the evening continued and the students made their way back into the Great Hall for the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons introductions, Harry could hardly focus. His mind kept drifting back to Viktor, to the way he had so confidently approached him, the way his touch lingered longer than expected. It was confusing and exhilarating all at once.
Madam Maxime and Karkaroff stood beside Dumbledore at the front of the Hall, their students seated at tables specifically reserved for their guests. The air between Karkaroff and Maxime was tense, their strained history evident in the way they barely acknowledged each other.
“You must be joking, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Surely you cannot be serious about these...accommodations.”
“Is it not to your liking, Igor?” Maxime’s voice was calm but laced with irritation. “Perhaps Durmstrang is more accustomed to cold, dark dungeons, but Beauxbatons prefers something...warmer.”
Karkaroff’s eyes narrowed. “Your students may be more comfortable in soft beds and silks, but Durmstrang students are made of sterner stuff.”
“Enough,” Dumbledore interjected, his tone sharp but controlled. “This is not a competition of hospitality. We are here to host the Triwizard Tournament, and we will do so with dignity and respect for all our guests.”
Maxime raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, while Karkaroff merely scowled and crossed his arms. The tension between them was thick, but Dumbledore managed to diffuse the situation for the time being.
As Harry watched the exchange, his heart pounded in his chest. Viktor was seated among the Durmstrang students, but his gaze kept drifting toward Harry, a small smile playing on his lips whenever their eyes met. Harry wasn’t sure what this year had in store, but he had a feeling it would be anything but ordinary.