Chapter 11
For the next week, Harry found himself often gazing at the Room of Requirement, where Viktor seemed to visit daily. Harry would catch Viktor disappearing inside at random hours, leaving him amused and curious. The fluttering feeling in his chest grew with each passing day, though Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He told himself it was nothing—just friendship. But the way Viktor always sought him out, the way he made him laugh when things felt too heavy… It was becoming harder to ignore.
On a cool October evening, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by Luna, Neville, and the twins. The four had long since grown tired of the separation by House tables but were following the rules nonetheless. Viktor, however, seemed to follow no such rules. As always, he ignored the Durmstrang table entirely and slid into the seat beside Harry.
Harry gave his friend a bemused glance. "You do know you have a table, right?"
Viktor just smirked, his accent thick and teasing. "I prefer this view."
Neville choked on his pumpkin juice, while the twins exchanged knowing glances, chuckling under their breath. Harry, red-faced, shook his head but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
The hall soon quieted as Dumbledore stood at the head of the room, preparing to address the gathered students and guests. His eyes twinkled as he began his introduction.
“I would like to extend my warmest welcome to our visiting schools—Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Tonight, we are gathered here to discuss the Triwizard Tournament, a time-honored event designed to test the courage, intelligence, and skill of young witches and wizards. Each champion will be judged by a panel of esteemed figures…” As Dumbledore droned on, introducing the Ministry officials and other judges, Harry found himself leaning closer to Viktor.
"Esteemed judges, huh? Bet Barty Crouch and his mustache think very highly of themselves," Harry whispered with a grin.
Viktor chuckled. "You think so? I thought the man barely moves his face. Must take a lot of work to smile."
Harry snickered, glancing up at the judges' table. "I don’t know, Percy Weasley could give him a run for his money."
Dumbledore’s speech continued, and when he reached the part about the age line, his gaze lingered on Fred and George, who were both grinning mischievously. The twins gave an exaggerated wink as Dumbledore spoke about the dangers of crossing the line underage, much to Harry’s amusement.
Finally, with a wave of Dumbledore’s wand, Mr. Filch brought in a large, intricately carved wooden chest. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Dumbledore transfigured it into a gleaming cup—the Goblet of Fire. Its blue flames flickered invitingly, casting an otherworldly glow across the hall.
As the room quieted down, Harry glanced at Viktor. "So… are you going to enter?"
Viktor’s expression darkened just a little, his eyes shadowed with something Harry couldn’t quite place. "I have to. Karkaroff made sure of it. Durmstrang must have a champion, and apparently, I’m the favorite."
A knot formed in Harry’s stomach. "But… it’s dangerous. People have died, Viktor."
Viktor turned to him, and his hard expression softened. "I’ll be fine, Harry. Don’t worry about me." He hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, "I don’t want you to worry."
Harry wanted to protest, to tell Viktor how much the thought of him getting hurt terrified him, but the older boy gave him a reassuring smile. Harry forced himself to nod, though the unease remained.
The next day, the Great Hall was cleared of its usual long tables, and the Goblet of Fire was placed in the center of the room. Its flames danced brilliantly as students from all houses crowded around the perimeter, watching eagerly as names were placed into the cup.
Harry watched from a distance as Cedric Diggory confidently strode forward and tossed his name into the flames. From Ravenclaw, several older students followed suit, while Hufflepuff’s enthusiasm shone through with loud cheers of support. Slytherins too began adding their names, though Draco muttered something about not being interested in such “barbaric” competitions.
When Viktor stepped up to the Goblet, there was a sudden hush. His movements were calm and deliberate, as though he had done this a hundred times before. But Harry noticed the way Viktor’s fingers tightened around the slip of parchment before he dropped it in. When Viktor returned to his side, Harry gave him a questioning look.
"You okay?" Harry asked quietly.
Viktor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I did what Karkaroff wanted."
Harry frowned. "Do you even want to be a champion?"
Viktor shrugged. "It doesn’t matter. He wants the glory for Durmstrang, and I’m just the tool to get it."
Harry’s heart clenched. "But what about you?"
Viktor gave a small smile, though there was a sadness in his eyes. "I’ll be fine, Harry." He stood abruptly. "Come, let’s go somewhere quieter."
They left the Great Hall, making their way to the lake. The crisp autumn air filled Harry’s lungs as they found a spot by the water’s edge, sitting in comfortable silence for a moment. Harry took out his sketchbook, beginning to draw the serene landscape, trying to distract himself from the churning worry in his chest.
"You always draw flowers," Viktor observed, his voice gentle.
Harry looked down at the delicate petals he’d been sketching. "I like them," he muttered.
"Show me what else you can draw," Viktor challenged playfully.
Harry hesitated, his eyes flickering to Viktor’s profile, who was staring peacefully at the water. Without really thinking, his pencil began moving, sketching Viktor’s strong jawline, his serene expression, and the way his hair caught the light.
When he finally looked up, Viktor was smirking at him.
"Are you drawing me?" Viktor asked with a raised eyebrow, amusement dancing in his voice.
Harry flushed, trying to hide the sketchbook, but Viktor was faster. With a quick movement, he snatched the sketchbook from Harry’s hands and examined the drawing with a grin.
"You’ve got my good side," Viktor teased.
Harry groaned, his face burning red. "Give it back."
Viktor chuckled, handing it back but not before leaning closer. "You’re really talented, Harry. You see things… beautifully."
Harry mumbled something incoherent, his face still flushed, but the compliment warmed him inside. They spent the rest of the afternoon by the lake, talking about nothing and everything, as Viktor continued to tease and flirt with Harry, leaving him both flustered and surprisingly comfortable.
For the first time in days, Harry felt at peace. Tomorrow, they would face the first challenge of the Tournament—the Goblet of Fire’s selections—but for now, everything felt right.