Certain Dark Things || Book Five

xxx. the bulgarian

For several seconds, neither Harriet nor Krum said a thing.

The Slytherins who'd passed through the entrance hall with her paused to give the former Triwizard Champion a curious look, but they kept moving down the stairs when he refused to acknowledge them. Hermione and Elara remained with Harriet, the latter reaching out to touch her arm. It was grounding, that touch. It assured her this wasn't a nightmare.

He's dead. Crouch is dead. He's dead—.

Krum shuffled his overlarge feet. The noise was startling through the haze clouding her ears. "Harriet...Potter? Yes? You are her?"

It was the accent that thawed Harriet's panic. It came out thick, hesitant, his English ungainly and uncomfortable in his mouth. The voice was the same, but the timbre was deeper, the accent like the practiced flick of a quill in someone's signature. Natural, easy. He did not sound like Crouch.

"What are you doing here?" Harriet managed to force out of her dry throat.

Krum shuffled his feet again, fidgeting with his robes. They weren't Durmstrang's uniform; they were plain black but in the Hogwarts style. It had the seventh-year hood and three stripes upon the sleeves, though the pin in his tie bore the Hogwarts crest, not a House. "I..." He paused, taking a deep breath. He seemed at a loss for words. "I am sorry," he settled on. "I am very sorry for vat happened to you vit that...that kopele who vore my face. I wrote letters, but I am told you vere difficult to reach in the summer."

Harriet didn't say anything. Krum looked away, nodding to Elara and Hermione.

"Zdrasti," he told them. "Elara, and...Hermy-own?"

"Hermione," she corrected. "Hello."

"A pleasure," Elara added, eyes narrowed.

Krum cleared his throat and addressed Harriet again. "I tried to speak vit...vit your Ministry. They said you vould have a trial, and I—they vould not hear my vords. I came to them and told them all I had seen and vat I remembered. I could do nothing."

"It's not your fault," Harriet told him, breathless. It wasn't his fault Crouch chose him as a victim, and it wasn't his fault Gaunt's Ministry hadn't wanted his testimony. She remembered her barrister telling her Krum had tried to testify on her behalf. Still, seeing him standing there made Harriet's stomach flip with terror. "It's—I'm surprised to see you here."

Again, Krum nodded, scowling at the floor. "I did not finish my school. He—I vas not con—? Conscious? For much of the year. Your Headmaster offered to let me complete mine education here."

Hermione and Elara shared a look over Harriet's head. "But why Hogwarts?" the former asked. "Surely Durmstrang would allow you to repeat your final year after what happened. I've heard they have a new Headmaster now."

Krum didn't answer immediately. His dark eyes studied the flagstones, and his large hands formed fists against his sides. His next words came out of him with a grunt of effort. "He killed my parents."

Harriet's throat tightened, her teeth clacking together.

"I have no home there. It has been taken. Durmstrang is a good school. There are...good people there. But I could not go back."

"Why?"

"It is...too difficult. To sit, to learn the magics there."

Harriet frowned, not understanding, and Hermione exhaled in a short, sharp burst. "Dark magic. Durmstrang teaches Dark magic."

The apple of Krum's throat bobbed, and he nodded. "Da."

"Crouch kept you under Dark magic for months. That must have affected you. I can't imagine how awful it must have been. Did you develop an allergy or—?"