His hands were large and craggy, but graceful in their small movements. His dark eyes sparkled in the afternoon light. His hair, once black, was starting to streak gray. Slightly duck foot, he lumbered over to the small table and chairs set up under a large oak. He used to be an international Quidditch phenomenon, but now he was a simple man, who lived with his wife and kids out in the idyllic countryside.

I followed him past his well manicured gardens to the table. The chairs were a warm mahogany brown, battered from age, but sturdy nonetheless. Viktor Krum settled down in one and I sat down silently in the other.

“Mr. Krum, thank you for welcoming me to your home,� I said as I leaned back in my chair under the cool lavender shade. Mr. Krum smiled brightly as he pulled out an dark pipe and lit it. Another sat on the table, which he offered to me, but which I politely declined.

“You are most velcome, Mr. Bryant,� Krum replied. “Now vhat is it you would like to ask me?�

Excited, I pulled out a thick pad of paper and a quill. I could feel my fingers itch to capture the incredible story I was sure to get from Krum. I sat forward in my chair, not wanting to miss a single word he uttered.

“First, are you aware that the Triwizard Tournament has been brought back since the time you were a champion and that it will be held at Durmstrang, your former alma mater?�

Viktor sat silently for a moment, contemplating this question. I noticed, through the gray smoke, that a shadow of sorrow, anger and fear flickered across his face, but was soon gone.

“Yes, I have heard something about it, though not much since ve don’t get as much information out here. I vas, however, invited to attend the events by the Headmaster himself.�

“So you plan on going then?� I asked.

Viktor Krum mulled over the question, an enigmatic and unreadable look on his face. I could see that this was more difficult for him than he would have ever admitted aloud.

“It vould be nice to see my old school again,� he finally answered.

******************

Durmstrang is an unassuming little castle nestled in the middle of rolling green lands now turned golden and soaring mountains. Its beige walls are simple and unadorned as is much of the interior. As I walked the stone corridors to the Headmaster’s office, I noticed that no pictures hung on the walls, no statues decorated the small crevices and sparse torches sunk the halls in shadows.

I asked the young boy leading me if it was always like this and he stated that the Spartan environment fostered strong witches and wizards.

“Here at Durmstrang, there are no unnecessary objects or comforts. Some find this odd I hear, but ve see it as a character builder. Hardship makes the soul stronger,� the young boy replied.

I say young boy for to me he’s young, but he is one of the select few who has passed the rigorous tests to be selected as a potential Durmstrang champion. His name is Alexander, a tall boy with a thick mess of brown curls and startling blue eyes. As we walked I questioned him on his classes, whether or not they still teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang as it was rumored they used to.

“Ve only learn defenses against the Dark Arts, just as any school. Some say ve learn all the Unforgivable Curses. There is some truth in that, but more lies. Here ve do not hide from dark magic, but learn how to counter it!�

“And how do you like your Headmaster? Is he anything like Igor Karkaroff, the former Headmaster here during the last Triwizard Tournament?�

I noticed Alexander falter in his steps the moment I mentioned Igor Karkaroff’s name and a dark shadow passed over his face.

“Ve do not mention Igor Karkaroff’s name here and no, our current Headmaster is nothing like that man. Headmaster Markovovitch is honorable and courageous. He makes sure his students are safe and well looked after and he never plays favorites!�

I saw the boy tense up and knew of very little I could say now that wouldn’t in some way offend him. I had never known until now of the intense anger and dislike that Karkaroff had riled up in his former school.

For awhile we walked in silence, with only the hollow thud of our footsteps on the stone floors accompanying us. I noticed that many of the students stayed clear of me and realized they were not used to foreigners here.

Alexander marched through the castle and without him, I would have quickly been lost. Without any sort of decoration of any kind, each corridor looked the same as the next.

“Tell me, Alexander,� I began, trying to dispel the tension between us. “what do you think of Viktor Krum?�

This nearly stopped the boy in his tracks and he quickly turned around, all his anger and tension completely gone. A light of pride shone in his eye.

“Viktor Krum is a great hero. He’s valiant, courageous and, from what my father has told me, used to be an incredible Quidditch player. Many students of Durmstrang have tried to emulate him in his more daring flying techniques, but very few have ever succeeded.�

At that moment, Alexander looked down at his hand and so did I. I had never noticed it before, but there was a faint vestige of a white scar that flowed from his jacket and tapered off on his hand.

“Ah, I see,� I answered tactfully.

Alexander smiled mischievously and then quickly turned and continued on down the hall.

Though I itched to ask him if such dangerous stunts on broomsticks were sanctioned at Durmstrang, I knew better than to do that. I knew that it may bring about another tense moment. So I followed along in silence.

Soon Alexander came to a stop and pointed his wand at the blank wall. Peering at me out the corner of his eye, he rattled a hard command in his native tongue. The wall glowed a bit and then moved aside to reveal a dark staircase.

I gave Alexander an appreciative nod, and then continued up the staircase alone. The sparsely lit stairwell had claustrophobic beige walls and steep steps. After winding my way up for a good while, I finally reached the end of the stairwell and found myself facing a simple oak door. I knocked, unsure what to expect. When the door opened, I was surprised by the man on the other side.

Headmaster Markovovitch was a petite man with large black eyes and a mane of silver hair that fell to his mid-back. A genial smile covered his lips as he waved a hand towards a large plush chair that sat on one side of his mahogany desk. He wore a humble brown robe and nothing more. At first glance, one wouldn’t know that he was an important and powerful wizard.

And his office was not much different. Every wall was covered with rows and rows of shelves, filled with books of every color, size and shape. In the middle of the room was his desk and along the back wall was a fireplace, which hardly looked like it had ever been used. Again no pictures covered the walls and I was beginning to wonder if there was a strict rule against decorations here. Opposite the chair I sat in was a window that was open, allowing the cool autumn breeze to waft through.

After the headmaster sat down, I got my pad of notes and quill out and the headmaster knew it was time for our interview.

“Headmaster Markovovitch, there has been a lot of talk in England of how safe the Tournament can be since the tragedy that accompanied the last Tournament. Many wonder if the Triwizard Tournament should have been brought back at all and some question the safety of having the event here at Durmstrang, considering what happened to the last headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, and the associations he had.�

I knew I had asked very tough questions and had made even harsher implications, but if it had angered the headmaster, I never knew. Not once did the smile on Headmaster Markovovitch’s face falter. Instead, he sat in silence for a moment, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

“What happened at the last Tournament vas a tragedy and many here grieved for the loss of Cedric Diggory. No child should be cut down vhen they‘re that young. As for safety, several new security measures have been added on, including a rigorous test that every potential Triwizard champion must take to be allowed to enter their name into the Goblet of Fire. This test not only evaluates the physical skills of the potential champions, but their mental strengths as well. In essence, we vant to insure those who enter are vell equipped to handle anything that is thrown at them. As for the Goblet of Fire, it is heavily guarded at the moment.�

Headmaster Markovovitch paused, letting my quill catch up.

“As for Igor Karkaroff and his associations with Lord Voldemort,� The headmaster heard me gasp at the casual use of Lord Voldemort‘s name. “Though completely deplorable, Igor Karkaroff has paid for those associations with his life. Many insinuate that because he was a former Death Eater and because many of the students that attend Durmstrang are pure-blood, that means that ve are and vere firm supporters of Lord Voldemort. I will admit that several families saw the downfall of Voldemort as a negative, but the majority of the families whose children attend Durmstrang vere just as happy as you vhen the Dark Lord fell.�

“Can you give details as to what sort of precautions you’re employing? How safe will the other students from the other schools, especially those of Muggle descent, be since you have openly admitted that several families here saw the fall of Voldemort as a negative? Have you taken extra precautions since it has been hinted that Harry Potter himself may be attending the tournament? Also do you have an estimated time that the students from other schools will be arriving?�

“Besides the rigorous test for the potential champions, ve have several spells and safeguards against any sort of magical and non-magical tampering of the Goblet of Fire and the events. As for the tasks themselves, they were designed to be challenging and slightly dangerous, but nothing that is too dangerous. I know because I have tested out each of the tasks myself. I can not give you further details of vhat the tasks vill be as a part of the strict security measures ve have regarding the Tournament. As for students born of Muggle descent, and I know that several students from Hogwarts are Muggle-born, ve have been monitoring the activities of the families who have expressed anti-Muggle-born opinions. Our Ministry of Magic has added several, vhat you call, Aurors as extra protection for the students and for Harry Potter. And as for the expected arrival date of the other schools—�

At that very moment, a large barn owl swooped into the room through the open window and landed on the headmaster’s desk with a letter attached to its leg. I watched as Headmaster Markovovitch quickly detached the letter and read it through.

“—it seems you’re in luck, Mr. Bryant. One of the other schools has just arrived!�

Knowing that our interview was on hiatus for the moment, I got up as the headmaster did and followed him out of the room. His steps were quick and it took a lot of effort to keep up with the man. As we walked, I turned to the headmaster and asked him a question that had been bothering me for awhile.

“Headmaster, why are there no decorations of any kind here?�

The headmaster turned with a look of surprise and a slight twinkle in his dark eyes.

“Durmstrang has always been a minimalist school since its inception. Decorations are not forbidden here, but we find them unnecessary. Ah, here we are.�

We had come to a door that led into an open aired courtyard which faced the main gate. Coming through the gate were horseless drawn carriages with the Hogwarts crest on the side of them. Ringing the courtyard was the entire Durmstrang student body. I lingered back near the students as the headmaster strode up to the largest of the carriages.

Hogwarts’ Headmaster Neville Longbottom was the first to emerge from the carriages and his students soon followed after. Headmaster Longbottom was slightly plump and good natured man. I noticed he wore a yellow and black scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. In fact, every one of the Hogwarts students had a yellow and black scarf around their neck and I knew it was in remembrance of Cedric Diggory, the boy-who-hadn‘t-lived.

**************

“Tell me Viktor, what do you remember about Cedric Diggory?� I asked.

Viktor Krum stopped suddenly under the shade of a large and over laden apple tree. We had decided to stretch our legs after tea. Viktor said one of his favorite past times now was to walk amongst the trees of his apple orchard. He had told me that he had found a gentle peace in those perfectly laid rows of trees.

With his back towards me, I could see his sorrow as it settled on his shoulders like a heavy weight. I hadn’t expected after all these years that this would still affect him so. It took awhile for Viktor to gain control over his emotions.

“I remember Cedric, remembered how humble he was and how kind. Cedric Diggory vas honest, loyal and stalvart to the very end. He would have made this world a better place to live in if he had lived and I considered him a friend.�

I heard his last words tremor as a shudder rippled across his back.

“And what about Harry Potter?�

At the mention of Harry’s name, Viktor turned. His dark eyes glittered as if they had once been filled with tears. Now a grin slowly covered his face.

“Harry will be there? It vill be good to see a friendly face again after all these years. Tell me, is one of his children one of the potential champions?�

“No, but his godson is.�

Viktor came lumbering over to me. He seemed to be happy by this news, but that happiness was gilded in sadness. His past would forever be a scar he would carry all the rest of his life.

“Then I vill definitely be going. Tell me, Mr. Bryant, vhat is Harry’s godson like?� Viktor asked as we walked back to the house.

**************

The air crackled in intensity as the flames of the Goblet of Fire danced in the air. All eyes were on the Goblet. I pressed up against the cool stone wall, my pad of paper in my hand. Standing near the Goblet was Headmaster Markovovitch, silent and composed.

All of Durmstrang sat along the walls furthest from the cup. Standing in front, separated into three groups where the three schools and their potential champions. I noticed that Alexander stood near the front of the Durmstrang hopefuls, his eyes fixed on the cup and his mouth set in a grim line.

Next to them stood the Beauxbatons, who were as composed as the headmaster. Dressed entirely in blue, they were elegant in their manners and movements. A soft murmur could be heard from them as they eyed the cup.

To the far right and closest to me were the students from Hogwarts. Unlike the other two schools, they were by the far the most exuberant and the loudest. Each hopeful teased and prodded another, with the occasional laughter breaking the silence around them. Each and every Hogwarts’ student wore a yellow and black scarf around their neck.

And by each school, stood their headmaster and headmistress. Though there was a fair amount of excitement in the air, the room strummed in anxiety. No one was sure what to expect or whose name would come out.

Headmaster Markovovitch stepped up to the cup and a sudden hush fell. All eyes were on him. Suddenly the flames of the Goblet turned bright blue and rose high into the air. Every breath caught in their throat as the first parchment of paper flew up into the air and twirled down into the Headmaster’s hand.

“The champion for Beauxbaton is Marie Antoine!�

A cheer rose up from the Beauxbaton academy as a petite, dark haired girl came to the stage.

The fire turned blue again and another slip of paper soared out of it.

“The champion for Durmstrang is Alexander Petravitch!�

Durmstrang broke out in wild applause. Alexander marched up to his headmaster, a bright smile lighting up his face and took his place at the side of Marie.

That left one name, one school. Last time two names had come out of the cup. Last time two champions had been called, and last time only one had survived. I could feel the tension in the room rise.

The fire in the Goblet turned blue and the final slip of paper flew up and was caught by Headmaster Markovovitch.

“And the champion for Hogwarts is Teddy Remus Lupin!�

The students of Hogwarts let loose of all their joy and excitement, hugging Theodore as he strode over to the stage. He was a tall, lean boy with a heart shaped face and sparkling gray eyes. When he got to the stage, he turned towards the crowd and held up his scarf.

“In honor of Cedric Diggory!�

A cheer rose up to the ceiling, powerful and strong, shaking the rafters over our head.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have read this story. The main character Adrian Bryant’s name came from the world building class and I really liked the name, so I used it again. I hope that is all right.