"Trust me, you shouldn't want anyone like me on your back."
"Maybe I don't want anyone like you on my back," His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, confining me tighter into barely any space as my back pressed against the wall.
"Maybe I want you. U...
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CHAPTER TEN
THE NIGHT SEEMED EPHEMERAL, once we emerged from our training with Professor Basil. The sky had already started lightening it's color, it's darkness melting in on it self to slowly cease to exist. Such a private training after Ilvermorny curfew hours shouldn't have happened. Professor Basil knew that, and even Gabriel Chevrolet, for all his nonchalant intricacies, was aware of the fact.
So, the professor had resorted to hiding us. A protective charm that rendered us invisible while we practiced near the Greylock mountains. He took rounds of archery first, re-checking and re-testing each of our aims. Then he had monitored our speed in the air, on broomsticks. In one single night, Professor Basil had tightened whatever bolts that had come lose in each of us six participants. In a few hours he had made sure Beauxbatons reserved a spot ahead for itself, even in training.
As we now walked, weary, with muscles aching and sore, on our way back to the castle, I thought of ViktorKrum. My encounter with him had been a rough stone procured from the depths of a mermaid infested lake. Something rare and.. different.
He was vicious in his ways, and he had made it so clear. His hatred for Grindelwald was immense, and it seemed to blind him greatly. Hate binds you faceless to a wall, and while your ears still work, you see and hear nothing but your hate.
Krum's grandfather had been murdered, but had not Grindelwald a list more extensive than just that? He must have loved the old man, I thought sullenly, Viktor Krum must've loved his grandfather passionately—to be full of such hatred and yearn for revenge.
But then, should I not be the same? Grindelwald took my own grandfather—his brother—down with him, and my father too. The dark wizard marked me in my crib, forever dooming me and my mother to lives draped in thick curtains lest someone should find out about our connection and throw us in Nurmengard or even Azkaban.
Should I not be filled with this dark hatred that Krum held?
I had accepted it, accepted every second of my past because I know I can't change it, only forge a new future for myself. But Viktor Krum refused to accept the past, he thought he could somehow revert it all back. Somehow, his satisfaction one day might bring his grandfather back. But that wasn't it. You can't bring back someone from the dead, can you? Unless you had the resurrection stone, unless the story of the deathly hallows was true and more than just a symbol or a mark, on my skin.
