Harry and Draco were built along the same lines -
wiry and slender. Viktor Krum, on the other hand, was both extremely tall and extremely wide — not fat, but burly. He could have bench-pressed Harry and had energy left over to toss Draco the length of an Olympic swimming pool.
Wordlessly, Harry reached into his pocket, extracted Hermione's letter, and handed it to Viktor, who took it and read it. When he glanced up, there was obvious astonishment on his face. 'This letter,' he said, 'it is really from Herm-my-own-ninny?'
Harry nodded. 'I'd know her writing anywhere.'
'It is a joke, then,' said Viktor, handing the letter back to Harry. 'I haff not seen Her-my-own-ninny in two years. And I certainly haff not-I mean, I haff never-' He shrugged. 'Well, as you can see, I am not in Bulgaria. I do not know the meaning of this letter.'
'Did you write to her and ask her to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron?' asked Draco.
Krum shook his head. 'I did not.'
'I saw Hermione,' said Ron. 'Last night. She said she was leaving with you, for Bulgaria. She got onto a broomstick with you-well, it was dark, but it looked a lot like you.'
Viktor was looking distinctly uneasy now. 'I do not know where she is,' he said. 'I tell you, I haff not seen Her-my-own-ninny — I haff no memory of seeing her — '
'Then if you don't mind my asking,' said Harry, 'where were you last night?'
Viktor opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked from Harry to Draco, to Ron, all of whom were staring at him. Then he said, 'I don't remember.'
'You don't remember?' echoed Ron.
'No,' said Krum, looking very unhappy now. 'Yesterday, I have Quidditch practice in the morning. Then, I come back here. I think perhaps I go to sleep, because when I wake up this morning, I do not remember anything I did yesterday. I think perhaps I had the flu, or was overtired.'
'So you're saying you just don't remember anything from yesterday or last night?' said Harry in disbelief.
'That is correct,' said Krum.
'And on the day the words 'flimsy excuse' were reinvented,' said Draco, 'we all stood around in awe and watched.'
'I tell you, it is the truth!' shouted Krum, looking agitated. 'I haff no memory of yesterday! And when I wake up this morning I am very alarmed because — ' He broke off.
'Because what?' said Harry, narrowing his eyes.
Krum's expression of unhappiness deepened. It was evident he was fighting some sort of strong internal battle. Finally he sighed, and said, half to himself, 'I suppose I must…I suppose I had better…'
'What?' prompted Harry, now nearly desperate with anxiety.
'When I wake up this morning, I see this,' said Krum, and pulled up his sleeves. He held out his arms for their inspection.
Deep scratches ran up Krum's forearms and his left wrist was braceleted by five dark red, half-moon- shaped indentations. Harry knew immediately what they were. The marks of nails that had been driven into Krum's wrist — driven by someone who was trying pull his hands away? He had a sudden image of Hermione, struggling as Krum clamped their hand over her mouth, and felt suddenly, violently ill.
But it was Draco who reacted first. He had his wand out and was pointing it at Krum before either Harry or Ron had moved.
'I am telling you,' said Krum, looking desperately unhappy and still holding his mangled wrists out in front of him. 'I do not remember anything!'
'We'll just see about that,' said Draco, shoving the tip of his wand into Krum's sternum. 'Veritas!'
Waking up was like rising slowly upward through dark, murky water. Hermione lay still for several moments, drifting in the inchoate gray space between sleeping and waking. Vague images passed before her closed eyelids — a plume of black smoke, a clearing between dark, wet trees, a train. Faces she didn't recognize.
Then Harry's face, looking tired and worried. But why?
Hermione opened her eyes. It took a moment for them to focus on her surroundings. Then she sat up, and stared around her in astonishment.
She was lying on the floor of a small, circular room, no bigger than her room back at the Burrow, although the ceiling of this room was at least fifteen feet high. But this room was built out of stone blocks, blocks that looked very, very ancient. There was a door in one wall, made of oak and crisscrossed with strips of iron, that looked almost as old as the walls. One window, high above her head and shuttered with iron bars, let in a tiny amount of gray light. The room was completely unfurnished, except for a quantity of straw piled on the floor. It was this straw on which Hermione had been lying.
A sense of disorientation more intense then any she had ever experienced washed over her. These surroundings were not just unfamiliar but alien, and in no way corresponded to where she had expected to wake up — safely tucked in bed at the Burrow. Hermione cast her mind back desperately — where could she possibly be? The last thing she remembered was walking into the Leaky Cauldron with Ginny — seeing Viktor there — she had followed him into the back room, and then -
There was a loud rattling noise. Hermione looked up in panic, and saw the knob of the enormous door beginning to turn. She tried to stand up, but couldn't — her legs were still too wobbly. Instead, she skittered backwards on her elbows, away from the door.
It opened slowly and a tall, hooded figure entered the room. He — if it was a he- wore a floor-length wizard's robe of thick green velvet, banded with silver at the throat, and gloves of black satin.
Hermione opened her mouth to ask where she was, how she had gotten her, but her throat had closed up
