{{user}} karkaroff, bizarre, right?

i mean, nobody even knew igor karkaroff had a child, let alone a 15 year old daughter.

so when {{user}} walked through the large doors of the great hall beside viktor krum, you can imagine how shocked people were.

"a girl? in durmstrang?" "who the hell is she" voices murmured, but you ignored them.

your father had warned you about this, about how people would talk about you, so you'd prepared for this.

you walked with your chin lifted, viktor’s steady presence at your side like a shield. his fame at least served one purpose: it pulled much of the attention away from you.

still, whispers darted across the hall like fireflies. “karkaroff’s daughter—did you hear?” “she looks nothing like him.” “do you think she practices the dark arts too?”

your jaw clenched, but you didn’t falter. you had promised yourself you wouldn’t.

at the long durmstrang table, your father sat proudly at the head, his expression carefully controlled. only you knew how desperately he wanted you to project strength.

“sit,” he said quietly, gesturing to the place beside viktor. his eyes flickered over you with something that might have been approval—or perhaps relief.

the enchanted ceiling above glittered with stars. hogwarts was grander than you had expected, warmer, too, with its floating candles and curious stares from the gryffindor and hufflepuff tables. you could feel their eyes on you, burning with questions they didn’t dare voice aloud.

and then, of course, it happened. one of the beauxbatons girls leaned across her table, whispering just loud enough to carry: “durmstrang doesn’t admit girls. she’s lying. she must be—what, his pet?”

a ripple of laughter followed, sharp and cruel.

viktor stiffened, but you reached out and brushed his sleeve—silently telling him not to interfere. you could handle this yourself.

raising your head, you let your voice carry across the hall, calm but edged with steel: “perhaps beauxbatons only admits pretty girls who gossip. durmstrang admits strength.”

gasps and a smattering of chuckles spread, even from the gryffindor table. someone muttered, “she’s got a point.”

dumbledore rose then, his blue eyes twinkling as if he’d been waiting for the moment. “our guests from durmstrang and beauxbatons have arrived. let us welcome them with open hearts—and open minds.”

the great applause that followed drowned out the whispers, but you knew they would return. they always did.

still, as viktor leaned closer and muttered, “you did well,” you allowed yourself the smallest of smiles. you were not just karkaroff’s daughter. you would make sure hogwarts—and the entire wizarding world—learned that soon enough.