Diana Krum, Viktor Krum's half-sister and nearly as popular as him, moved to England in 1991 with her aunt and uncle to start her studies at Hogwarts. During her second year, she met Ginny Weasley, who told her about the crush she had on Harry Potte...
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'Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?'
☽︎•☾︎
"So Harry knows?" Hermione asked on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts the following morning, her eyes slightly widened. "About last summer, I mean"
Diana nodded. "He doesn't know everything, though. Not that he needs to know anyway"
"But Di, he's your boyfriend," Hermione complained. "And he only wants you to be okay. He cares about you. We all do"
"I know he does," she replied. I wish he didn't, she thought. "Why do you ask?"
Hermione shrugged.
"Just figured he knew after telling you to meet him after dinner that night. Plus, when you came back, your mascara was a bit ruined, which could only mean that you had been crying. Also, he's been making you eat dessert ever since and you have been eating dessert lately, something nor Ginny or I have been able to do"
Diana smiled at the girl apologetically. "It's not you, it's me"
"No, it's him," Hermione corrected her. "Harry. He's got a great effect on you, I like that"
Diana's mouth widened.
"That's not true!" she said. "He has no effect on me. At all"
Hermione giggled, "Diana, come on! You hadn't been this happy for ages. You were always so down and mad, and look at you now. You're a completely different person"
Diana smiled, but didn't look at Hermione.
She would never admit it, but Harry had changed her in the most positive way.
☽︎•☾︎
"Late again, Potter," said Snape coldly, as Harry hurried into the candlelit classroom. "Ten points from Gryffindor" Harry scowled at Snape as he flung himself into the seat beside Diana. Half the class were still on their feet, taking out books and organizing their things; he could not be much later than any of them.
"Before we start, I want your dementor essays," said Snape, waving his wand carelessly, so that twenty-five scrolls of parchment soared into the air and landed in a neat pile on his desk. "And I hope for your sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page — what is it, Mr. Finnigan?"
"Sir," said Seamus, "I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the paper about an Inferius —"
