Viktor Krum stood at one end of the tent, Harry Potter at the other. Viktor's arms were crossed over his chest, his hand still worrying the St. George medallion through his fingers. Harry was staring at the tent door that Fleur has left out through, listening in silence as Bagman shouting his commentary, his face pale with worry.

Neither said a word to the other until the whistle blew the third time and Bagman's voice echoed through the air, "AND NOW THE CHAMPION OF DURMSTRANG - THE AWARDS-WINNING QUIDDITCH MVP, SEEKER OF THE BULGARIAN INTERNATIONAL TEAM, CATCHER OF THE GOLDEN SNITCH AT THE WORLD CUP - VIKTOR KRUMMMMMMMM!!!!"

The audience echoed the name, a low rumbling sound - "KRUMMMMMMMM!" - just as the crowd at the Cup had done.

He glanced once at Harry. "Good luck," he mumbled, and he stepped into the tunnel without waiting for a response.

His thumb continued to run along the face of the medal, not stopping, even as he walked briskly down the length of the tunnel. He paused just before stepping out into the open area beyond the tunnel.

"Leave our presence."

Oskar Krum had dismissed Viktor's trainer from the pitch during Viktor's final training session before the Task, just before Krum had come to the tent. Viktor was holding a push up, balanced on his hands and toes, for nearly a minute when Oskar walked onto the field, and as the trainer walked away, Viktor released the hold, dropping onto the grass with relief.

Oskar looked down at his son. "I did not tell you to relax. Start over."

"Father --"

"Start. Over. You will listen while I talk to you about this task."

Viktor had drawn a breath and pushed himself back into the plank position, his biceps burning already from the previous set. All the worse when Oskar aimed his wand and a weighted pressure came onto Viktor's shoulders, like he was being pushed down. He winced and grunted with the exertion.

Oskar's sighed, disappointed. "What has that fool been training you at? The things of children?"

Viktor could barely breathe.

"You will do good today Viktor - you will, or you will bring dishonor to our family. You are the best and so you must perform the best."

"I will try my hardest," Viktor grunted.

"Try your hardest!" Oskar snorted. "You will win or you may as not live through it. You have to win. Do you understand?"

Viktor wondered, as he stepped into the ring, how much it would hurt to be killed by a dragon? Would it be worse than those training sessions? Worse than the tone of hatred and judgment and disappointment in his father's voice? Worse than the distance between him and Aleksander? Worse than being Viktor Krum every day of his forsaken life?

Just a couple days ago, he'd been in the library, studying up on anything that could help him in the Task - buried, as usual, in stacks of books he'd used to create a wall for privacy - when Hermyown had looked up from her own book and asked, "If you hate it so much, being famous for playing quidditch well, then... why don't you quit?"

"I cannot quit," he said simply. "To quit you must have it in your blood to be willing for this to be what you are disgraced to be known as; a quitter. But it is not in my blood to be a quitter, Hermyown. I could not forgive myself to quit."

"Why?"

"I simply cannot."

Hermyown had been quiet for some moments before she asked, "If you were able to quit... What would you do?"

Viktor stared at the book before him.

"Viktor?" Hermyown pressed.

He stayed staring at the book, but murmured, barely audible, "Horses."

Hermyown looked surprised. "What, like, riding?"

Viktor nodded. "Showing them, training them, caring for them... I enjoy them immensely." He paused, "They expect nothing from me."

Hermyown did not look like she thought he was crazy, so he continued:

"I would have tiny house with land that was vast and green, far from the worldly rush. I would grow my vegetables and there would be porridge with fat berries for breakfast and love... Acceptance. No training. No judgment. Just a garden and a paddock. And there we would live and be, just be, and at night we would see stars and remember the fortune that we have is in the peace there."

Hermyown smiled. "We?" she asked.

Viktor looked away.

Hermyown followed his gaze to Aleksander. She looked back at Viktor, hesitated, then said, "It sounds wonderful, Viktor."

He held the medallion, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the enclosure.

The Chinese Fireball was coiled around the eggs like a snake, her long red scaled body was heavy with muscle, her claws sharp and golden. She had what looked like a mane made of long, quill-like hair that glinted, sharp at the ends, and talons on the tips of her dark red wings. Her teeth were already bared and snapping upward, nipping in the direction of the cheering crowd like a horse trying to rid itself of a fly. The eggs in her clutch shone, the golden one in the middle.

Viktor raised his wand.

"Conjunctavis maxima!"

The spell shot across the enclosure, catching the Fireball in her left eye - a direct strike. Viktor's aim had been perfect. She let out a shriek and whipped her head about in anger as her eye filled with a horrible yellow pus that dribbled over her cheek. She turned and snapped at Viktor, her teeth clamping just shy of catching him as he jumped back into the tunnel to shield himself.

"OH OH RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE AND WE HAVE A DEFINITIVE STRIKE!"

Viktor ran the moment the Fireball drew back. She would spit fire, he knew, for he had read up on the fighting tactics of twenty different species of dragons trying to prepare for this. The Fireball always snapped to disable or unsettle her prey, and then scorched them with flame to finish them off. But he was prepared, so he ran forward and she blasted the fire in the place he had been as he ducked beneath the jet.

"OH GOOD FORM! GOOD FORM!"

When she finished firing, he took aim. "Conjuctiva maxima!" This time, the spell hit the right eye and the dragon shrieked as her good eye overflowed with that same sticky yellow pus.

The dragon started clawing blindly in the direction she'd last seen Krum at, her long claws scratching gouges in the earth that were knee deep even for Viktor's height, and he ran forward, his fists balled, weaving between her front legs.

She scented him and turned, following the smell of him, stamping her feet down, trying to catch him. He shot a stinging spell at the far leg, to confuse her of his location, and she raised her huge haunch and brought it down, smashing rocks into gravel beneath her strength.

"VERY DARING!!!"

Viktor slid to avoid it as she stamped her foot closer to him, snorting another spout of fire, her sides heaving with frustration. The goop from her eyes was raining down into putrid puddles, but Viktor managed to charge to where her tail curled around the clutch of eggs. There was a ring of charcoal on the ground where the nest once was - and so her sinewy tail made up a nest for her, protecting the eggs. Viktor threw himself onto her tail, clutching the scales to pull himself up, his biceps burning but the training had given him the strength he needed.

"THAT IS SOME NERVE HE IS SHOWING!" Bagman's voice echoed around the enclosure.

The dragon felt Viktor climbing her tail and she swept her tail, intending to throw him off, but he'd felt her turn and leaped from her onto the clutch of eggs, landing among them with a grunt. The dragon's tail rammed against the enclosure wall with an earth-shaking crack that shook the stands and elicited shrieks from the on lookers. Viktor grabbed the golden egg and he ran for the gates.

"HE'S OUT OF THE NEST AREA AND -- YES HE HAS GOT THE GOLDEN EGG! RECORD TIME! RECORD TIME!!!"

But despite having finished the task, the dragon wasn't yet neutralized and she was a thousand shades of angry, her eyes still messy with the conjunctivitis, she could barely see but she saw the dot that was Krum. The dragon shrieked and trampled forward after him, intent on smashing him with her huge clawed feet, stamping them down and shredding the ground, breaking apart stones with her talons. She breathed, blowing a stream of fire that burned the ground paces behind Viktor as the dragon keepers pushed open the gates and swarmed in, carrying their fireproof shields, sending stunners and dousing charms at the Fireball hastily.

Krum, just outside of the enclosure, went to his knees, panting, dropping the egg to the ground and falling into the dust. He had never felt so spent in his entire life - and suddenly, as he lay there, all the pain that ought to have effected him in the task was striking him now and he felt where his muscles had strained, felt where stones had broken the skin of his palms when he went down. There was smoke in his lungs and he coughed and his chest felt tight - his ribs bruised, and he closed his eyes as the world seemed to spin around him with an intense amount of vertigo and Viktor Krum passed out.

He came to and someone was beside him, prodding him and checking him over. "Bleedin' hell; he's in a right state. Not a chance all of this muscle stain came from just now out there..."

Viktor Krum opened his eyes to find he was laying on his back in the medic's tent, and Wally Grant was leaning over him, a concerned look in his eyes. 

"You were phenomenal, Viktor. A real champion worthy performance, as always."

Viktor didn't reply.

"Here," Wally was there, giving Viktor a glass of water. "Drink this slowly."

Viktor drank, trying to take his time, but he was parched and dry. He felt his lips were cracked. As he drank, Wally turned 'round and returned a moment later with a handful of digestives. He handed the biscuits over to Viktor, who broke it into quarters and shoved some in.

"Slowly now," Wally advised. "You're weak. I did a quick test and you're dehydrated and your muscles are strained and overworked, it's a wonder you didn't collapse in the middle of the task! How hard are you training, Viktor?"

"As hard as my father requires," Viktor replied.

Wally scowled and shook his head.

Suddenly there was a commotion and Oskar Krum had shoved his way into the room, pushed Wally aside, and was looming over Viktor, who stopped eating the moment he saw his father. "My boy you have performed excellently - only a few small things we must work on before the next task to excel your performance. I have kept the notes and we shall speak to Brutus during training tomorrow to plan how we shall --"

"Training tomorrow?" Wally said, coming around the other side of Viktor's bed. "Oh no. No. Viktor won't be training tomorrow. There's no way. He needs time for his body to recover the trauma it's just been through - and what it's apparently been going through for some time. You've got quite a lot of time before the next Task, I'm told, he will have plenty of time to rest through the holiday and then you can begin training for the next Task."

"Rest through the holiday!" Oskar snorted. "That is ridiculous! He is an athletic champion, he does not need this rest."

"I do," Viktor spoke up and he was horrified to find his voice cracked. From the smoke, he told himself. It was the smoke, it is not that you are emotional. It is only smoke in your lungs that has caused this cracking.

But Oskar ignored him, "The boy becomes lazy if he is not worked as he ought to be; one does not become Champion by being a lie-about!"

Wally squared his shoulders, "No but one does not maintain one's stamina indefinitely and the human body requires a break - it requires rest and recovery or the muscles will fail. Your son passed out following the Task --"

"With a bit more training, he will not --"

"Mr. Krum, if you push your son, he will die," Wally snapped.

"It is up to me what my son will and will not do to train."

"I'll disqualify him if you overwork him," Wally announced.

"What?" Oskar and Viktor both said at exactly the same time. "You do not have the right --" started Oskar, but Wally cut him off.

"Yes I do. As a medic, I have the right to give him a medical disqualification and he won't be able to compete at all moving forward." Oskar's face was lined with anger and he fumed, his mouth twisted hatefully as he glared at Wally. But Wally did not back down. If anything, he was more resolute. "So - Viktor rests until the holiday. No training. He is given a leave. And when he returns to training, the sessions are to be timed and not to exceed an amount of time to be properly determined." Wally's voice was firm, "Or else we disqualify him."

A tense silence filled the medic tent.

"Now, Viktor, are you alright? Are you strong enough to come along and receive your scores?" Wally asked.

Viktor nodded, and he winced as he rolled out of the bed.

"Once we're back, we'll wrap your ribs to give you some support until Madam Pomfrey can perform the healing charms," Wally said.

Viktor nodded.

Wally led Viktor past his father, who glowered after them, seething with pure rage, and out the door of the tent into the cool air. Viktor's arm hugged his side and he limped slightly. At the edge of the enclosure, Viktor was greeted by the cheering crowd, who whooped and rumbled with the chant of his name once more - "KRUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMM!" - and he waved, though it pained his side to do it.

"Here they go with the marks," Wally said, pointing up to the judges.

Viktor looked up. 

Madam Maxime raised her wand. A shimmering eight blasted from her wand.

Mr. Crouch was next - and he gave a seven. "For breaking the additional eggs," he explained. Viktor looked 'round and saw there were tamers cleaning up several ruined dragons eggs and he felt a twist in his stomach at the realization. Dragon eggs were somewhat rare, he knew, and there were at least two that had been broken.

Ludo Bagman cast a seven, nodding and pointing toward Mr. Crouch, as though to say that was the reason for his score as well.

Next, Dumbledore cast a shimmering eight into the air.

And finally, Igor Karkaroff - a ten.

"Excellent score, Viktor!" Wally congratulated Viktor. "Top marks of the lot so far! You did alright."

"I wasn't supposed to hurt the eggs," murmured Viktor.

"But you did a great job," Wally replied, nodding to lead him back to the medic's tent.

Ludo Bagman cried out, "AN EXCELLENT PERFORMANCE... BUT CAN THE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION BE OUT DONE BY THE FAN-FAVORITE, HOGWART'S SECOND CHAMPION AND THE YOUNGEST OF THE LOT? LET'S FIND OUT.... GIVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR -- HARRY POTTER!"

And the final whistle sounded.