How Old Is Viktor Krum In Goblet Of Fire の小説・ストーリー

Victor explained. "Does that have anything to do with me again? And since you mentioned Professor, she must be really old" I said in a sarcastic tone. "Worry not, my dear friend. She is exactly two years younger than you. And you know what's the sweetest thing?" Victor questioned. "What?" I asked, unbothered by him. "Your birthdays are so close. Hers is on the 1st of October and yours on the 14th" He giggled.

My fingers lit with flame. “Who are you?” I demanded. He didn’t answer right away. He walked through the paused battlefield like he owned it. Like time was his pet and war his playground. And maybe it was. “Isn’t it obvious?” he finally said. “I’m the one you’ve been waiting to fight. The shadow behind your losses. The hand behind your grief.” “You’re Viktor.” He bowed slightly. “And you are exactly as they said you’d be. Fire and storm. Beautiful rage.”

he said quietly, voice steady despite the chaos. I nodded, drawing strength from his presence. The pack gathered around us, a wall of loyalty and courage. Liam and Tobias flanked us, ready to charge, while Nora and the witches prepared their spells, murmuring incantations that filled the air with a shimmering glow. Viktor’s smile was cruel, a predator confident in his prey’s fear. “You’re fools to think you can stop me,” he sneered. “This world belongs to the strong. To the dark.”

At her hesitant nod, Viktor launched into an overview of Valendria's political landscape and succession laws requiring his marriage before his 30th birthday in three months. "You see my dilemma." Viktor peered at her intently. "I do not enter marriage lightly, but for duty's sake, I must choose my Queen wisely. Tell me honestly Amy - do I seem so unappealing a prospect?" He lifted her palm to his lips with devastating charm.

I was eager to ask Isabella about the matter in private at a later time. Viktor was tall, handsome, and resembled a more muscular build of Brad Pitt, but with darker hair. He was wearing a pair of black jogging pants and a grey tank top. He crossed his arms as he approached me, staring at me as if I were the one who was a fairytale creature. "I've heard a lot about you, Gwen," Viktor stated. His tone was almost as bone-chilling as Darick's and I had to suppress the shiver it gave me. Confidence with these ‘men’ was key.

And now, Ralph was saying that she was brought to meet him. "You must be Isabella." A smile was turned to the confused lady. "Nice to meet you." "Where is Albus?" Isabella blurted out and looked around the space she was in. She didn't expect the reply that came. "I am Albus." A gasp escaped the shocked lady. It was followed by a chuckle from the wizard. Albus looked... 35. Isabella could not give the wizard anything above that age. The wizard's hair was completely white and silky, captured with a string and styled into a ponytail that touched his lower back. His dark eyes looked vibrant, young, energetic. One could even mistake him for 29 and wouldn't be wrong.

Well, he was straightforward. I ducked under his arm and went around him. I hurriedly backed away from him. I wanted to keep some distance between us and spend as little as possible time close to him. I had cancelled out my scent but I didn’t want to take any chances of him whiffing a smell of my body. Viktor turned around to face me with a smirk, “I see you are light on your feet, huh? Is that pure skill or is that magic too?” He sped towards me with a grin, “Well, it doesn’t matter what you’re on,” he paused as he threw rapid punches at me, “all I know is, I want to know what color the blood of a warlock is.”

His pale skin and sharp crimson eyes hadn’t changed, but there was a new warmth in them — the warmth of a man who had finally found peace. “She’s getting stronger every day,” Damien said. “And more unpredictable.” As if on cue, a burst of golden-violet energy exploded in the training field below. A young girl with long dark hair and striking tri-colored eyes (silver, crimson, and violet) was floating several feet off the ground, laughing as sparks of magic danced around her. Liora Voss-Crowe-Vale, five years old in age, but physically and magically closer to twelve. The living embodiment of their love and sacrifice.

I loved her, so I let them go knowing I would never be able to give her the life she deserved in this desolate castle. ​"You don't seem too surprised, Krug," I said, narrowing my eyes at the goblin. ​"Krug has always known about the Master’s son, Cal...." Before he could finish, I lifted a finger. An invisible force snatched him off the ground, squeezing his throat. He clawed at the air, his legs kicking uselessly as he floated. ​"You know I hate secrets, Krug," I hissed. "Do you want to be punished? Have you forgotten what it feels like to burn in the Lake of Fire? Or perhaps you'd like to spend another hundred years locked in a dark little box?"

This was the belly of the beast. They reached the grand hall. It was a cathedral of Gothic excess, lit by a thousand candles that cast long, flickering shadows. Standing at the far end, in front of a fireplace large enough to roast an ox, was Viktor. He was dressed in a simple black turtleneck and slacks, looking more like a scholar than a kingpin. He was holding a glass of clear liquid, watching the snow fall outside the massive arched windows.