Thursday, July 17th, 2014. 7:15 PM.

  Island of Maritius, Indian Ocean

  "How in the Hel do they keep finding us?" Harry panted to Viktor Krum. The last flurry of spell, counterspell, jinx and curse and hex, had put the topper on a full day of training.

  "I know not," Viktor said. "But plis remind me to thank them, vunce this is ofer." He paused. "That vould be right before I curse the Evil Eye out of them. Pl?uj? si n? ??avoto, d? n? mi s? ?slu?i," he finished in Bulgarian.

  They were playing Hide-And-Seek with their pursuers throughout the broken ring of mountain ranges circling the island nation of Maritius. Currently, they were laying low near the crest of Piton de la Petite Rivière Noire, the highest peak on the island.

  Harry, from under Krum's very own beetling brows, stared at Krum. Viktor, currently wearing Sergei Dimitrov's face, looked back.

  "Vhat?" he said.

  "Why would you thank them first?" Harry asked.

  Krum shrugged. "They obviously haf good information on where we practice, efen though it is nefer the same place tvice. Yet they haf not attacked us during practice. And I think they only attack Sergei, who is me, because he is with me, who is you. At least after practice, I mean."

  "Well, yeah," said Harry. "Still not much reason to be thankful, I think."

  "Harry, the team is vorking hard, yes?"

  "I should say! You and Lev have put together a great organization."

  Viktor shook his head 'Yes.' "But vorking too hard is danger also. Lev and I vork them chust enough. Me, howeffer, I must vork harder. If none of this vas happenink, I vould still be trainink after trainink, you see?"

  Harry said, "Yeah." He was obviously still clueless.

  Viktor smiled grimly. "Vhat better training for a Seeker, than to be Hunted? To observe alvays, to react instantly. And to nefer, nefer, lose track of the enemy."

  "Well, can't argue with that. I've honed my skills to a razor's edge, just by flying against you this week. I honestly think I'm playing better than I ever have."

  Viktor's expression almost made Sergei's features look like his own severe countenance. He was silent for long seconds, then spoke.

  "You haf the instincts. You haf been holding back, playing as you saw young Dimitrov play against me in the one-on-one. The skills, and more importantly, the attitude, you haf.

  Krum looked out across the tropical landscape, volcanic snags protruding through the lush canopy, especially around the edge of the island.

  "I haf spent twelve years in preparing for this Cup. There are many things I haf learned, to teach lovers of the sport. But, this last veek, vorking vith you, and beink hunted across the vorld, I haf learned something new."

  Harry remained silent as Viktor paused.

  "Age does not define a Seeker. More important are the instincts, the skills learned so deeply they are instant and unthinking. The team, known the same vay vith Lev's tsyalostna forma, his 'gestalt.' And none of that requires a young man. In many vays, it vould exclude a young man."

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  Viktor straightened from his crouch, still looking across the terrain of the island.

  "I had planned this vun last try. The last chance to make a mark on history, I thought." The grim smile was back. "And now, I think... This is not my last World Cup. I vill do this, not from ego, but from conviction. The Cult of Youth in Qvidditch is wrong. Oh, when a young player is better, then fine. But not just because they are younger."

  He looked at Harry. "The next Cup is in four years. I vill be there. And I also think somevun else could be there..." Again, a pause, "...if they started thinkink now."

  He held his hand out, and his Firebolt Supreme, Mk II snapped into it. Its twin did the same into Harry's hand, more from reflex than intention.

  Viktor's words were echoing through Harry's brain, his very soul. Could I..., he thought, then, I could...

  Victor's next words, were prosaic, flatly spoken. "Tomorrow, a short practice, then a day for the team to rest. Maybe ve vill catch our pursuers by surprise. If ve do not inform the team of the short day, the others vill not hear of it, either. I hope. Then you and I, you say, 'lay low'?" It was the most boyish grin Harry had ever seen on Krum's face. He didn't think that was all due to the fact that Krum was wearing a boy's face. Viktor looked out from under their sheltering tree.

  "Here is comink our C-Team."

  Harry saw a cluster of five flyers wearing robes and cowls, scanning the mountainsides. Two of them even had Omnioculars poking out from their hoods. "C-Team!" he snorted.

  Viktor nodded gravely. "Da. Vun more good push of 'trainink,' and then, ve are off!'

  "But not just a little..." Harry muttered.

  ***

  Saturday, July 19th, 2014. 2:45 PM.

  2014 Quidditch World Cup Stadium, Patagonian Desert, Argentina.

  The front hall of The Daily Prophet's quarters at the World Cup stadium was well suited to pacing, and that is just what Ginny was doing.

  "Where are they?" she demanded of the air.

  The only other person in the room, her brother Ron, shrugged absently. He was still wrapped up in examining his new broom. The manual for the Comet XK-001 was open on the low table in front of the couch where Ron was sitting. What he found most interesting was that a good portion of the booklet was hand-written, and that some of the broom's features had question marks beside them. There was a half-pleading note attached to the front, asking if Ron could help them fill in the blanks.

  Ron was grinning, off and on, as he made notes. Ginny had grudgingly allowed him fifteen minutes to fly the broom for the first time, once they reached Patagonia. She had been afraid he was going to burst. Luckily, no one near the Portkey Arrival Area had recognised him as the hero of the moment.

  There was a faint pop and an almost inaudible zap sound, as Harry and Viktor Apparated directly into the hall.

  "About time!" Ginny hissed, just before grabbing her husband by the ears and bringing his face down for a kiss.

  Harry blinked owlishly when released. In the worst Slavic accent he could muster, he said, "Thankink you, Chinny, but I theenk you vant..." He gestured at Krum.

  Ginny glared at both of them. Krum raised his hands in mock surrender.

  "No time for nonsense! Robes off!" Ginny snapped. "Cloak him!" Harry's Cloak was swept out of his dimensional pocket, and gracefully swirled about Viktor's muscular frame. Viktor, already in his game robes, disappeared with nothing more than a grunt of amazement at the quality of the Cloak. Harry and Ron divested themselves of their loose robes, ending up in only trousers and shirt.

  Ginny went on. "Harry, you and I lead the way. Keep your watch open in your off hand. If anybody tries to speak to us, frown, point at the watch, and keep walking. I wish we had an excuse for you to have your wand out, but..."

  Harry opened his wand hand. The last four inches of the holly and phoenix feather wand protruded from his sleeve. When he closed his hand back, only the very tip showed.

  "Brilliant!" said Ron. "Does it work okay?"

  "Took some practice. I got the idea from Erik at D&W. It's how he carries his wand, when he's working around Muggles."

  Ginny plowed on,"Ron, You bring up the rear. I want you looking nervous and distracted."

  "I am nervous and distracted," protested Ron.

  "Yeah, I know. You're a natural. If a situation comes up, I want you doing a full Bullwhip Griffin. Keep them off-balance, confused, and take out any you can."

  "You got it, Little Sister!"

  "Oh," Ginny added. "Leave the broom." At Ron's rebellious look, she went on, "You're coming right back by here to get to your box. I want you to have it with you, just not right now."

  Harry noticed the broom for the first time. "Wait, where did you get that? What is it...?"

  "Uau! Я, това е интересно!" added Krum out of thin air. "Perfect for Keeper, yes?"

  "Not now," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "Harry, Ron can tell you all about it up in the box. Viktor, you are just going to have to suffer in silence, at least until we get you into your dressing room. Everybody, eyes open, magic-senses out. Harry, Ron, hex first, ask questions later! Brooms up!"