Not Alone in the Fire

Quidditch World Cup

The stadium was nothing like Hogwarts.

It wasn't charming or historic or wrapped in centuries of magic. It was massive enchanted tiers rising endlessly into the sky, banners from dozens of countries rippling in midair, the air buzzing with layered spells to amplify sound, control wind, and contain the chaos of high-level play.

Athena hovered near the entrance tunnel, her broom steady beneath her, fingers flexing slightly against the handle. Below her, teams warmed up in tight formations—precision flying, rapid passes, Beaters testing the weight of Bludgers that moved faster than anything used at school.

This wasn't practice.

This was war disguised as sport.

"First time?"

The voice came from her left low, accented, and calm in a way that immediately cut through the noise.

Athena turned.

She didn't need an introduction.

Viktor Krum stood beside her, arms folded, expression unreadable. Even at rest, there was something coiled about him like he was always half a second away from diving.

"I don't look nervous," Athena said.

"You don't," Krum replied. "That is why I asked."

She studied him for a moment. "And if I was?"

"Then you vould not be here."

Athena smirked faintly. "Good answer."

Krum's gaze shifted toward the pitch. "They fly faster here. Think faster too. If you hesitate, you lose the Snitch before you even see it."

"I don't hesitate," she said.

He glanced at her, just briefly. "We vill see."

When she first launched onto the field, the difference hit her instantly.

At Hogwarts, she was used to being ahead—anticipating plays before they formed, reading movement like a language she'd always known.

Here?

Everyone spoke it.

She accelerated, cutting sharply between two Chasers mid-pass. A Bludger screamed past her shoulder too close and she twisted instinctively, dropping lower before rising again in a tight spiral.

Faster.

Everything demanded faster.

Across the pitch, she caught sight of Krum already in motion diving steeply, his body nearly parallel to the ground, eyes locked on something invisible to everyone else.

The Snitch.

Athena's pulse kicked.

She leaned forward and shot after him.

Wind tore at her face as she pushed her broom harder than she ever had before. The stadium blurred. Sound collapsed into a distant roar. There was only the chase now the instinct, the pull, the certainty that the Snitch was near.

Krum veered suddenly.

Athena didn't follow.

Her eyes flicked not where he was going, but where he had been looking.

A flicker.

Gold.

There.

She dropped.

Straight down.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as both Seekers plummeted—Krum in a sharp arc, Athena in a near-vertical dive that bordered on reckless.

Fifty feet.

Thirty.

Ten

At the last possible second, she pulled up, arm outstretched but Krum's hand closed around the Snitch first.

The whistle blew.

The match ended.

Athena hovered in place, breathing hard, the world rushing back all at once.

Krum rose to meet her, the Snitch already tucked safely in his grip.

"You saw it," he said.

Athena exhaled slowly. "So did you."

He shook his head. "A second too late for you."

"A second is nothing."

"In this," he said, holding up the Snitch slightly, "it is everything."

She stared at it—tiny, delicate, infuriating.

Then she looked back at him. "I'll be faster."

Krum studied her for a long moment.

Then, unexpectedly, he gave a small nod. "Yes," he said. "You will."