Darkest Shade of Light| Dramione

.xiv. champion

Victor Krum is not a follower.

Some facts about him are yet to be determined, yet to be set in stone but there is one thing that is and always will be certain about him. He is not a follower. Not a minion. Not to be bent to the whims of a little boy with the biggest toy.

He let some of his men apparate to the godling's mansion, some used the portkey that arrived in an envelope in the doorstep of his manor in Bulgaria but he and a handful opted to take the long way round. He preferred the journey, the exertion, to trace the trails and the secrets of the terrains so that he will be as familiar with it with the veins at the back of his hand. Merlin knows, he might have some use of it later. For the godling is a mercurial ruler, one minute he is all for the North, the next he is all and some for the South. Victor learned early on in the godling's rule not to put all his eggs in one basket. The godling has swift claws.

Swift claws, yes, but only two eyes.

The only person that remains loyal to him is his own mother.

Crisp mountain air flowed through his lungs as his muscles came alive with the strain. Just another morning ritual. Yesterday, it was swimming across a river then today it is climbing to the top of a steep, rocky mountain. Tall grass tickling his palms as he passed and the gravel crunching under his boots.

"Don't vall behind," he commanded in English. He can spot some dementors lurking in the shadows behind rocks. Not all of his men are Durmstrang Institute graduates, some are from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. A few even came as far from Ilvermony. Wizards and witches need to take a side, he could not blame them if they choose a side that is winning.

And he would not blame them for choosing another side yet again. Merlin, he would even encourage it! The tides are turning and it doesn't look good for the godling.

The marble castle loomed just a stone throw's away. The grey and gold vein's in its walls giving an illusion of a pulse in the clear daylight. For something so straight and pristine, it felt like it was shaking. Unstable. The tall black gates with steel poles that looked as if they were meant to be stakes, greeted them.

"Tybalt," Victor said.

The gate did not budge but the black stakes bent to an arch and let the party in.

Victor found pleasure in smearing his grass stained boots in the otherwise ivory walkway to the front of the castle. He caught himself before he can think any insults to the godling. He's in the snake's den now and the snake senses even the smallest of disturbance.

House elves emerged as they came nearer the entrance, all wordlessly taking off capes and all items they would otherwise not need while meeting with the godling. Including their wands.

It was a practice that never ceased to trouble him. The godling still refused to trust him or his party. Afterall all the blood in his hands, he still hasn't gained even a pinch of trust. It was as if the past three years has been for naught.

He removed his black bear fur coat and handed it to the small house elf with globe-like eyes. He proceeded to give it his Hornbeam wand as well but he was stopped.

"Master Victor can keep his wand. Master will see him now," big eyes blinked up at him, fearing protest and retaliation.

But Victor is and always be calm. There is nothing that the godling can ask of him that will faze him. Everything that Victor Krum has ever loved has died at this point. His parents are gone and Quidditch can only be played at peacetime. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain.

He nodded and followed the elf down elegantly furnished room with black carpets and vein of silver in the walls. Finally they stopped at a door. A door unlike the rest. This one is smaller as if the hole in the wall was altered to make it fit. It was made for another place, this burgundy colored door.

The elf jumped up, dirty rags flapping in the effort to reach the knob. Finally, upon reaching the knob, the elf managed to swing the door open.

And just like that Victor Krum was transported to a Gryffindor dorm room.

He recognized the colors. The red and golds. The house animal in old flags. He made sure that he was still inside the castle by looking back just in time to see the house elf jump up to close the door to the hallways with silver veins. He couldn't have been transported back in time. No one goes by their Hogwarts house now if you are not a Slytherin like the godling. Coming from Durmstrang he always thought that houses are a way to bask in another's glory, in Durmstrang you are graded individually. You compete with each other for glory and it makes you harder and more formidable. At least greater than these fools.

"Did you come here to lose once again?"

Victor felt the throb of annoyance in that pulse near his eye but he nod his head down and bent his knee so that his chin will touch his kneecap. "I've come to serve."

It was always the right answer.

With eyes on the floor, Victor waited to see the wheels of the chair that the godling made his throne. He saw the silver coated tips of dragon leather boots and then the crooked black of the Elder Wand. He swallowed to fight the urge to spit. Victor closed his eyes and waited even as the throb of the pulse beside his eye intensified.

The Elder wand was used to raise his head so that he will meet the sterling silver eyes of of the godling. "Someone wants your autograph, Champion."

As the godling said it, the burgundy drapes that covered the bed opened to reveal a girl.

Victor Krum stood up. The throb of the pulse beside his eye stopped. Time stopped. He was frozen but completely shaken.

He was wrong. The godling could still surprise him yet.
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Anyone happy to see the Bulgarian Bonbon? Lol

Well?

Song up top is 'Tubthumping' cause Victor probably sang this song at one point if a muggleborn introduced this to him.