"Dob?r den, gospoda. Zapovyadai?te."
The coach, Lev Zograf, just walked past her with a grunt. Viktor Krum took Ginny's hand, gave a small bow, and said in a formal tone, "Dude. Vhat is up, my homie?"
Ginny almost laughed. Viktor tried so hard. She said, "Just chilling, homes. Cop a squat."
Viktor escorted her to the table and pulled out her chair. Ginny surreptitiously activated the P.P.P. as she sat. Coach Zograf already had his mouth full of food, the Rakija open, and a glass topped up to almost over-flowing. Ginny noted with amusement that he had grabbed her enchanted tumbler. It went up and the contents disappeared in two gulps. Zograf started to lift the bottle and refill his glass, but stopped. Was stopped, rather. Krum's corded hand was holding the coach's wrist. Zograf tried to yank away, but he might as well have saved his time.
Krum took the bottle, poured himself and Ginny a finger each of the Rakija. He then poured the coach two fingers, stoppered the bottle, and firmly set it between himself and Ginny. Zograf snarled, but didn't try to retrieve the bottle. He said a few angry words to Krum in Bulgarian. Krum replied calmly in the same language.
A sheet started feeding into the hopper of the P.P.P.
The printed sheet stopped, waiting for more conversation.
Zograf still looked angry and unhappy, but wouldn't meet Krum's level gaze. The coach picked up his tumbler, sipping at the drink instead of knocking it back.
Krum turned his attention to Ginny. "Your message said you vant to do, vhat, deeper interview?"
"Well," said Ginny, "In part. I wish to speak to Coach Zograf, to begin with. Our previous interchange somehow ended up a little light on substance...?"
Ginny gave a small smile at this exchange. "I understand from my colleagues that the coach speaks very little English, but understands it quite well. If Mr. Krum could give me an idea of Mr. Zograf's answers, that would be quite adequate."
Ginny ignored the exchange of glances between the two men, and asked her first question. "Coach Zograf, how does your experience as one of Bulgaria's most celebrated Keepers influence your performance as a Coach?"
Lev Zograf looked startled. He looked at Krum.
Krum shook his head.
The coach paused, obviously marshalling his thoughts. "That is..," He stopped, suddenly remembering that he 'didn't' speak English.
Zograf's surly attitude was evaporating, as he warmed to his subject.
Ginny was getting a little baffled, as Zograf's body language was at odds with his words. The output from the P.P.P. caught her eye. Large red letters in Block Caps had spooled down to the middle of the page, and were lightly strobing to get her attention.
CULTURAL NOTE: IN BULGARIA, NODDING THE HEAD MEANS, 'NO.' SHAKING THE HEAD MEANS, 'YES.'
Ginny grimaced slightly. That's right, she knew that.
Zograf continued,
He stopped, and blew out a breath.
The P.P.P. flagged the phrase as unknown, but Viktor's running translation almost immediately supplied the word, 'gestalt.'
Zograf shook his head solemnly.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Ginny waited until Krum caught up before speaking.
"Coach Zograf, that is amazing. It is like your words opened a place in my mind that recognizes this as truth, even though the concept is strange, almost alien, to the part of me that is a Quidditch player. To subsume ego, which is a weakness many players have, into an..., entity, that cares for nothing but the game. But, as you say, it would be hard, very hard."
She paused, then went on. "There must have been an..., inspiration for this, a spark that lit this wand. Is that something you could share with me, Coach Zograf?"
The grizzled, hardened Keeper-Turned-Coach was almost blushing. A little shame-faced, he said, in English, "Please to call me Lev, Ms. Potter. My apologies for my rudeness."
She waved it off. "No apologies are necessary, Lev. And I hope you will call me Ginny."
He smiled, an open, honest expression. "As for inspiration, he is here. This is the vay that Viktor sees the vorld, and alvays has. Before he retired, no vun vould listen. Ve had many talented players, and von many games. But ve did not have a talented team, and so ve vould fail at the last."
"Then he is gone. And, for many years, Bulgaria became, not a joke, ne? But, da, ordinary. Many great players came and vent, but the ego, you understand?"
"And then, Viktor, he vants to make one last try. But he vants to try his way. He has spent a dozen years, how you say, not resting on laurel. He studied, and traveled, and vatched, and learned. Then, last year, at end of season, he calls National Committee to him. You see? He does not go, he calls. And they come. Vhy?" Lev, paused, grinned, and raised one finger to point at Viktor.
"Because he is Krum. And it vas Krum who said, 'This is vhat I vant. This is vhat you vill do.' And they rolled over and bared their over-stuffed bellies, because..., He. Is. KRUM."
Lev waved an airy hand, like he was casting the simplest of spells. "And the old team was gone, from the over-paid Seeker all the vay to the boy who rolls towels in the Training Room. And Krum calls me to be Coach. Not because I am his friend, vich I am not." Lev grinned at Viktor, who grinned right back. "In truth, I have always hated the arrogant bas..."
Krum murmured, "Vnimavay s dumite si, Lev." This made Zograf grin wider. Ginny glanced at the P.P.P. and saw, "Be careful with your words, Lev."
Lev shrugged, "I admit he has become a little less unlikable. But he did not vant a coach to like. He vanted a hard man, a vorker, a man who would do his best vether he agreed with a plan or not. And together, ve put together a new team. Maybe not all new. There vere people who could learn, more on the B Team than the A." Lev paused. "And the boy who rolled towels in the Training Room vas excellent, in truth. The Vratsa Vultures keep trying to steal him away." Again, he shrugged.
"So, he is Krum. He is the Alpha and the Omega. I vould vorry about inflating his ego, but he has none that I haf ever found. He is Krum, and this is vhat he vants."
Ginny was leaning on the table, propped on her elbows, with the backs of her interlaced fingers supporting her chin. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.
"Lev, I know exactly what you mean about ego. In my playing days, I was on the Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog Jones alone..."
She stopped because both men had reflexively flattened into the backs of their chairs. She wouldn't call it cowering, but there was definitely an air of caution being exhibited.
"That..., vooman," said Krum. "She... scares me." She scares everyone, thought Ginny. I'm surprised they never thought to put her up against Riddle.
Krum continued. "If ve had drawn Vales in the First Round, I vas considering a forfeit, then start training for the next Cup."
Lev nodded. "She physically threatens me, da?" He scowled. "I realized recently that she does it every other vtornik at obyad." (Ginny glanced at the printer. 'Tuesday at noon').
Ginny nodded sympathetically. If Gwenog was threatening a different First Round coach every day, two weeks would still leave her one coach short. Either two coaches were doubled up on a single day, or one coach was getting special attention. Probably José Barboza from Brazil. Make a note to ask him about that. No. Better to sic Rita Skeeter on them. The thought of Gwenog and Rita in a locked room..., Sigh. A girl can dream.
"Lev, I will be honest with you. This article was going to feature you and Viktor, about evenly. But Viktor gets too much coverage, and is going to get more, if my plans work out. But that is off the table now. This article is going to be about you, and the only mention Viktor is going to get is the part where you specifically talk about him. Front page, above the fold. And I can almost guarantee the World Press will pick it up. Or, in the case of the Quibbler, steal it outright and add Wrackspurts to it." She paused, then decided to bite the bullet.
"Lev, are there any photos anywhere of you, where you are not scowling like a particularly bloodthirsty mountain bandit chief?
Both men burst out laughing. Lev shook his head, and said, "Da, I can see that might be a problem." He looked up. "I have a family photo that my vife thinks very highly of...?"
"Perfect! Do you need to use Accio...?"
"No, it is here." He reached into the breast of his robes and pulled out a small framed photo. (He keeps it over his heart, Ginny thought, melting a little inside).
Lev tapped it with his wand to enlarge, and handed it to Ginny.
He still looks like a bandit, Ginny thought critically, but he's a happy bandit surrounded by people who love him.
"How long is the time loop?" she asked, opening the top of the P.P.P., and putting the photo inside.
"Thirty seconds." Lev replied.
"And do you, or do you not want your family's names in the article?"
He almost blushed again. "Da, I mean, yes. Please."
After she checked that the printer had made a good copy, Ginny handed the photo back to be stored away.
"Lev, I thank you again. You have given me a great story. Oh, and here." She reached under the side table and pulled out another bottle of Rakija. "I thought you both might have been, ah, dryer than I imagined. This isn't really to my taste, and I would appreciate you taking it."
"Oh, and Lev?" she said as he smiled and took the bottle.
"Da?"
"The glass you took was supposed to be mine, and I had cast Fac Me Abstinentem on it."
Viktor started laughing again. "Vizh, ti alchen, star glupako!"
Lev thought for a moment, then smiled. "Dobre. That is a relief."
"Relief?" asked Ginny.
"Da. I vorried that I might haf started liking you because I vas drunk."
***
Ginny and Viktor stood in the hall, and each raised a hand as the lift doors closed, blocking their sight of Lev.
Viktor bowed Ginny back inside, and stopped a moment to look up and down the hall. He entered as well, and turned to close the door behind him.
Ginny decided to throw caution to the wind, and pass on Harry's warning. "Viktor, I asked you to stay because I have something..." She stopped, shocked at the look on Victor's face as he turned from the door. All traces of levity were gone, as was the usual stolidity with which he faced the world. This was the face of a very frightened man.
"Viktor, what is wrong?"
He crossed hurriedly to the glass doors out to the balcony, and closed the louvers over them. "Ginny," he almost whispered. "Do you haf a strong privacy spell?"
Ginny nodded, and cast the strongest Muffliato she could.
He felt the spell settle over them like a weighted blanket, and sighed, hanging his head in apparent relief.
Looking up, he took a deep breath, and said hoarsely, "Somevun is tryink to kill me."
.