The great doors of the castle burst open with a thunderous swing, and Durmstrang made their grand entrance into the Great Hall. They didn’t simply walk in—they performed. Their arrival was a spectacle designed to command attention, every movement calculated to leave an impression. Sparks crackled as their staffs struck the stone floor, sending bursts of fire into the air with every synchronized motion. The choreography was sharp, aggressive, almost militaristic—front flips and backflips executed flawlessly, bursts of flame spiraling upward as though they bent to the Durmstrang students’ will. At one point, several broke into a display resembling breakdancing, spins and freezes punctuated with trails of fire. The room seemed to pulse with heat and energy, the blaze reflected in the wide eyes of the watching Hogwarts students.

And then, when the fire and smoke cleared, came him.

Viktor Krum. The pride of Durmstrang. The world-renowned Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team, his presence alone enough to silence the whispers and gasps rippling through the hall. He didn’t need fire or tricks—his reputation walked in before him. The display had been dazzling, yes, but it was Krum who left the deepest impression simply by standing there.

When the performance ended, Durmstrang’s students gathered at the side of the hall, falling into line as their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, swept forward to greet Dumbledore with his usual flourish. Conversation sparked and buzzed all around, excitement crackling through the student body like static.

But Viktor didn’t join in. He remained slightly apart, standing with a few of his closest friends, his broad frame at ease yet commanding. His dark, deep-set eyes drifted slowly across the crowd of Hogwarts students, scanning their faces with quiet curiosity.