Viktor Krum woke early, a wee bit seasick from the ship's constant rocking. He got up and washed his face in the basin, brushed his teeth, got a sheet of parchment and a pen and dutifully wrote:
Viktor Krum, Durmstrang
He stared at the dark strokes of the black ink on the stark white parchment.
He wondered if any of the other boys would even attempt to submit their own names or if they were all so resigned to the fact that Viktor was the intended Champion for Durmstrang that they didn't figure there would be any reason to pretend there was any chance someone else might be chosen.
Viktor imagined what might happen if someone did and their names were indeed the names chosen for Durmstrang. He wondered if Igor Karkaroff's head would actually explode? He pictured steam coming out of the old man's ears as thick and grey as his goatee.
Surprisingly the image actually made Viktor feel a bit better.
He stepped out of the private cabin room, stopping short when he saw he was in the barracks level of the ship and that the other boys who had been brought along from Durmstrang were put up in horrible canvas hammocks that were stretched between the beams that upheld the ship's main deck overhead. The hammocks looked unstable and rough, and he could tell from the way the other boys groaned and cracked their backs that the hammocks were not very comfortable and ha wave of sickly guilt came over him.
"Of course Vikky gets a real bed," said one of the other lads, spotting the large mattress on the bed over Viktor's shoulder.
"Anything for our champion," mocked another of them, snickering as Viktor flushed and hurried by, climbing the steps to go above deck.
The morning air was chill and Viktor could see a light frost across the grounds of Hogwarts. He pulled on his hat and shoved his hands into fingerless gloves before walking quickly - yet carefully, the frost had made it a bit slick - down the plank from the ship's deck to the dock. When he'd reached shore, Viktor picked up his speed even more, half-jogging up the winding pathway to the castle, keen to stay warm more than the desire to cross the distance. It was a good bit of wake-up exercise, he thought as his breath hung in puffs before him.
Inside the castle was warm, much warmer than it was inside the Durmstrang ship - or the Durmstrang school, for that matter, where they only burned the fires for necessity and special events, generally they used their furs for warmth, even indoors. It was surprising to find the Hogwarts students dressed in plain clothes, then, and, being a Sunday and a holiday, many of them wore muggle clothes rather than their uniforms and robes. He stood in the entrance hall, looking about at them, marveling a bit.
What must it be like, he thought, to grow somewhere that wasn't so cold and unyielding as the places he was used to? It wasn't the first time Viktor had wondered such a thing.
He walked up to the Goblet of Fire slowly, staring up at it. The blue starfire blazed and glimmered, turning even the ceiling of the high entrance hall blue with light. He still couldn't believe it was real, and that the story of the Blind Seer going to see the Bulgarian god of the things beyond the sky was possibly as real as the hewn oakwood goblet. He could feel eyes on him, staring at him, analyzing him, being in awe of him... and all he wanted to do was turn about and shout at them all to stop looking at him and to look at the Goblet, to appreciate that the Goblet was really the amazing thing in the room, not him.
Viktor stomped up to the Goblet, bowed his head to it as though greeting it reverently, and carefully, breathlessly, reached up and held his name over the brim. For a moment the parchment seemed to float on top of the starlight... and then it was swallowed up with a small rippling. He stepped back, not daring to stay too close to such an important magical object, paying it the respect that it deserved.
People were whispering all around him, looking at him and looking like they might soon get up the nerve to talk to him or ask him for his autograph or something. Viktor really didn't feel like dealing with all of that, so he turned and slouched quickly back towards the door. It was so nice and warm in the castle, though, and so chilly in the ship - and honestly, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to go back and face some of the attitude of the people on board the ship, either, the way they were all assuming he was a horrible person because Karkaroff treated him differently. He was tired of being treated like he was entitled and tired of being treated like he was arrogant for having been treated like he was entitled and honestly it was so exhausting. Especially when all Viktor wanted to do was have a lie-in and read a good book.
He turned suddenly, catching a small boy by the arm. "Excuse me," he said. The boy looked up at him in surprise and shock and Viktor checked himself to be sure he wasn't gripping the poor kid's arm too tight. He didn't think he was, but to be safe he let go quickly. "Can you tell me where is the library in this castle?"
"The l-li-libr-rary?"
"Yes, the room with the books?" Viktor said, in case he'd mistaken the word in translation was why the poor boy was staring at him with confusion.
"It's up those stairs there," he pointed to the grand staircase behind him, "And then you go off to the left and down the big staircase up there - oh but be careful the staircase moves - and then when you go down a flight there's a right and you go on down that corridor and you'll see the library on the left. Can't miss it."
Viktor tried running those instructions back over in his head and hoped he wouldn't get lost on the way. "Thank you."
The boy stared up at him. "W-would you - an autograph?" the boy squeaked.
Viktor nodded and waited while the boy dug out a bit of parchment and a quill, practically shaking as he fumbled through his book bag. Viktor glanced around, hoping that nobody else would see and ask him to sign their things, too, but luckily there was some commotion at the Cup that was keeping people from looking his way - a lot of laughter was echoing about the Entrance Hall, and cheering - and nobody was paying attention to him for the moment. When the boy finally handed over the parchment and quill, holding up a little ink pot with trembling fingers as he watched Viktor dip the quill. "Who should I write it to?" Viktor asked.
"C-Colin," the boy quivered with excitement. "Colin Creevey, sir." He stared at the parchment as Viktor scrawled out his name.
To Colin - Fly High, from KRUM.
"Wow thanks." Colin clutched the parchment as though it were made of pure gold. "Enjoy the Library."
"Thank you." Viktor handed the trembly little thing back his quill and hurried to follow his directions to the library, shoving his fists deep into his pockets as he went. The instructions had been fairly easy to follow and the one time he did get lost, a suit of armor whispered, "Psssst!" and gave him a pointer in the right way. Viktor found himself becoming more and more enamored with Hogwarts, envying the students and enjoying the warmth and friendly attitude of the school. Compared to Durmstrang, the students at Hogwarts lived in a luxurious place that he himself wished he could have gone to. He wondered how much different his life would be if he'd grown up at Hogwarts.
The library was very quiet, barely anybody was there. It was Halloween after all - a holiday and a Sunday, the students were sure not to be very interested in doing homework on a day like that, especially with so much excitement going on because of the Triwizard Tournament and everything. Viktor wandered in and nodded to the Librarian who looked up from her desk with beady eyes, her voluminous purple-grey hair lurking over gold frame glasses from which hung beaded chains that kept them 'round her neck. Her lips pinched together as she watched him slouch off into the stacks.
Rows upon rows of books sat on high wood shelves that reached to the ceiling, most of which had dust upon them. The smell of the paper and the dust was heady and warm and Viktor enjoyed it very much. It was one of his favorite smells, aside from that of the trails that he took his horse on back home. He wandered through, looking at the different subjects marked on the ends of the book cases and paused here or there to peruse the shelves to check for titles. He was sad to see that a lot of his favorite Bulgarian legends and mythology volumes were missing - likely not translated, which he found very sad - but was pleased to find a whole section of British legends and mythos that he decided he could make do with. He ran his fingers along the spines, reading the titles as he went.
He reached for a thick volume, pulling it off the shelf and at the exact same moment someone on the other side reached out and plucked the book opposite it off the shelf, too, so that for a moment he was staring into the eyes of a girl on the other side of the shelf. She had very pretty brown eyes with little flecks of gold and green in them, and she blinked at him in shock, not expecting to see anybody looking back at her, oand then she said, "Oh!" and shoved the book back into place, blushing.
Viktor couldn't help himself, he laughed.
The book moved again. "Are you laughing at me?" the girl's voice came through the books. She had a very bossy tone to her and he could almost picture her on the other side with her hands on her hips.
"I am sorry for this," Viktor replied. "It was funny, you look very surprised."
The girl stared at him through the small space in the books and she sniffed and pushed her book back in place on the shelf again.
Viktor went to the end of the aisle, planning to go 'round to the other aisle and introduce himself, but the girl was already hurrying away down the center aisle of the library, clutching the volume she'd pulled from the shelf, and glancing back over her shoulder at him, bushy brown hair flying out wildly behind her.