Viktor was an accomplished wizard, but there was one thing he could never quite get. He stood in front of a fake dummy, which had been charmed to look like a Dementor and raised his wand. Thinking a happy thought, he shouted,

"Expecto Patronum!"

A slivery wisp of smoke came out of his wand, disappearing two seconds later. The "Dementor" kept coming. He tried again; concentrating harder. Again, a slivery wisp of smoke came and went. Viktor was getting angry, he stopped and muttered

"I can catch a Snitch, but make a Patronus, no!"

He threw his wand, very annoyed.

Viktor was sitting on the astronomy tower fiddling with his telescope. He would twirl it, stop, than look through it.

"There's the dog constellation." He muttered, writing it down on his star chart. Again, he spun it around, the metal glistening in the moonlight. After two minutes of twirling, Viktor stopped and gazed into the eyepiece with a bored expression on his face.

"Professor, I think I found a new planet!" he said, staring into the telescope. Professor Vintex came over and took a look. Standing up, she smirked,

"Viktor, that's Uranus."

Viktor blinked, scowled and went back to work.

Viktor stared into the blazing fire, flickering in the fireplace. He was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, a look of fear on his weathered face. It was official; He Who Must Not Be Named was back. After all this time, the Wizarding community was in danger.

He crumpled up the newspaper in his hand, the cold paper crinkling like dust under his fingers. He scowled as he threw the newspaper into the now dying fire. He stood his back cracking slightly as he rose and look around. Sighing, he went to sleep, thinking of the fight to come.

"Gracie wishes master a good morning Sir"

Viktor was sleeping soundly when he was awoken by a small voice.

"What?!"

He jumped up; wand raised and sighed as he saw his house elf Gracie. She was wearing her normal looking outfit; a piece of cloth which was so filthy it looked black instead of its normal white.

"Morning Gracie, thank you." Viktor mumbled sleepily, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. His heart began to slow down. He had a feeling it was going to be one very long day. Getting dressed, Viktor left the house and headed to school.

Viktor was now a professor and had got a job at Hogwarts. He wanted to be a Quidditch star. But his dreams ended during the last Quidditch game he ever played when he was walloped by a Bludger. He missed Quidditch a lot, and had decided to teach what he knew; flying. Madam Hooch had decided to retire from Hogwarts and Viktor, being a young new professor had gotten the job. He sat down beside Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy professor and watched as the Sorting Hat sorted the new students into the four houses. It was good to be back.

"Help!"

Viktor was walking toward the Entrance hall when he heard the cry for help. Viktor couldn't help but smirk, it was too funny not to. Walking up to the tied up boy, Viktor asked,

"Vhat did you do?"

"Nothing, I swear! I … I just…" The tied up boy burst into tears. Sighing, Viktor began to untie him when he felt something cold run down his back. Turning, he saw Fred and George spraying him with water. Viktor stared down at his body, which had begun to sprout vines. Viktor flicked his wand, shook his head, muttering, "Nice spell"

"To act upon bullies is to become a bully …" The professor drawled in a sleepy voice. Viktor wasn't paying any attention though; he was more interested in the brunette two tables down. She had a plaid in her hair today, which shone in the bright sunlight coming in through the windows. As the professor drawled on the philosophy of Bullying, he began to imagine himself taking her for a ride on his broom; the wind rushing through her hair, her smile reflecting off her glasses as she turned and…

He found himself in the classroom, everyone staring at him.

Care of Special Creatures class was having a special guest; a fully grown Hippogriff, Witherwings. It was one creature which had never allowed in Durmstrang, but Hagrid, the professor at Hogwarts thought it would be a good idea to show them the creature, as it seemed He Who Must Not Be Named had overtaken most of the Hippogriff tribes. Viktor thought the creatures were horrid; great wings stretching from the scaly body. Its great big eyes boring into Viktor's as if eyeing his prey. Yes, Viktor didn't like this one bit, but stuck it out anyway, hiding in the shadows.

Viktor awoke to the smell of fresh bread warming in the oven. He had just graduated from Durmstrang and had taken on a position at the Bulgarian Ministry. His parents were so proud of him; they had been up all night preparing a feast in his honor, inviting all his friends from school, and of the Bulgarian Quidditch team. He didn't like the attention being poured on him; he was embarrassed by what he was doing. The feast started, and his best friend Goldien stood,

"So, what is your job anyway?"

"Oh, he's a garbage man" his mother said proudly.

The commonroom was buzzing with expectation. The students from Durmstrang were coming back today from Hogwarts, less qualified students were excited to hear what happened. They had heard about what happened in the maze, but wanted to hear it from Viktors mouth. Viktor stomped into the commonroom with a sour look on his face, took one look at all the anxious students and scowled.

"Welcome back Viktor! What happened?"

Viktors eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings, it was still fresh and he wasn't willing to relive it all. Turning quickly, Viktor left.

The younger students stood in shock.

The classroom was quiet, just as it should be at 4am. The house elves had finished cleaning a long time ago and were now in the kitchens, slaving away for the early breakfast. Viktor stood, his head resting against the window sill, thinking about anything to get his mind off his real problems. Professor Dumbledore had come and said He Who Must Not Be Named was back and Viktor was scared, though he'd never admit it to anyone. Closing his eyes, Viktor took a deep, cleansing breath, sighed and began to walk out, hoping the war would be over quickly.

Viktor was in the Library, watching Hermione as she studied. Her hair bounced as she bent down to write on her parchment. He shook his head and thought he should be working on his essay "The history of Parseltongue" for his professor. It was tedious; he didn't want to learn about the Snake language, it was creeping him out. He knew Harry Potter was a Parseltongue, and thought he would know. Just as he was thinking that, Harry walked in, sat next to Hermione whispering something. She looked directly at Viktor, smiled and left. Viktor smiled and wrote his essay.

"What is a Pureblood anyway?" Viktor thought as he lay on his bed. He knew they were pure of Muggle blood, and only had Wizarding blood in them, but did it matter? He didn't think so. No one was truly pure of blood anymore; there was always one witch or wizard who had a little bit of Muggle blood in them. It was interesting then, to know that He Who Must Not Be Named was a Muggle-born, yet he only wanted Purebloods in his sick and twisted army. Viktor closed his eyes as he drifted into sleep, dreaming of Quidditch.

He needed a vacation badly. Viktor, now a bustling Quidditch star, wanted to get away for awhile and think about his future after Quidditch. He was 21 years old now, out of school and had a healthy career. He needed some entertainment in his life, so he had decided to live like a Muggle for a week. He put his wand away, moved into a flat and had a blast trying to turn on the television and eat food out of a microwave. After a week, he had come to a decision; being a Muggle was harder than it looked.

Viktor was walking slowly down the corridor, minding his own business. He heard whispering, and turned around, expecting to see those gaggles of girls which followed him everywhere.

Nothing.

Shrugging, he continued to walk, forgetting about the whispers, which only got louder as he walked. He turned again,

Nothing.

Getting annoyed now, he stopped and shouted,

"Who's there?"

"Don't shout!"

Viktor spun around, looking for the speaker. He was very annoyed now and began running down the corridor looking around.

"Don't run, you scalley-wag!"

"Watch out!"

Viktor stopped and turned angrily.

There were a dozen portraits all waving at him.

It was too dark for Viktors taste. He was afraid of the dark, but no one knew that. He was in the backyard of his parents' home, listening to the sounds all around him. Suddenly he heard a snap to his left. He opened the tent flap and saw nothing but darkness. Closing the tent flap, Viktor huddled closer to the wall, trying to keep his heart rate down.

Snap, crash!

Viktor stormed out of the tent, torch shaking in his hand and saw his father lying in a pool of water, the broken picnic table underneath him.

Viktor laughed.

The dungeons were a highly mysterious place, everyone hated going there but Viktor had no choice. Viktor was having detention in the Dungeons, and it was his job to scrub the dried potion ingredients and polish the silver instruments. How anyone managed to spill the pus was anyone's guess. The student in question was in the Hospital wing, having treatment. Viktor sneezed as the potent smell invaded his senses vowing never to switch the Headmasters pumpkin juice with vinegar. Mind you, it was funny seeing his reaction. He sniggered as he thought up his next move, cleaning all the while.

"There he is! Over here, hurry!"

Viktor watched as Harry and Cedric came back from where the trophy, which turned out to be a portkey took them. Harry's face was whiter than he had ever seen it, the scar a bright red on his forehead. He was clutching Cedric's body and shouting something which Viktor didn't hear over the roaring crowd. He saw Professor Dumbledore rush over, trying to pry Harry's fingers away from the body. He noticed Mad-Eye glancing around nervously as he came up and took Harry away. Finally he noticed the trophy, which was still glowing brightly.

Viktor was fuming as he gaped at the letter. They had denied him entry into the National Quidditch team! All his hard work of spending all night in the empty Quidditch pitch; catching the tiny golden ball which fluttered around, and for nothing. He sunk into his bed, a strange emotion overpowering him. It was envy. He was envious of all the great players out there. Those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, who could afford the best brooms and equipment. He had to work for his money, cutting grass or de-gnoming gardens.

Alas.

Continued from last drabble

He continued being envious all through the week. His envy turned to jealousy as he watched the Quidditch players, teeming with talent as they soared through the air, seeing the scouts as they sat in the stands ogling over them. He knew they loved the attention and it sickened him. He wanted to play the game, not get the latest endorsements and become famous. He wanted to be famous for what he did, not what he rode. Viktor made a decision; he would try again next year when he was 16, he would show them all what true talent was.

It was beginning to vex him now, all this anger and terror running about, harming innocent people everyday. He wished he could do something. On the outside, Viktor was a cold, hard man, but on the inside, where no one knew him, he was a warm loving individual who only wanted the best for everyone, and right now the best was for the war to end and for everyone to move on with their lives. He knew it would take years for that to happen though, and so he waited for word of He Who Must Not Be Named's downfall.

He sighed as he extinguished the flames. The war had ended the Dark lord had been defeated. His Death eaters had come forward and given themselves up, hoping to get a life sentence instead of the kiss of the soul. The papers were filled with the heroics of that Potter boy and his friends, who had finally stopped him, but with a price. There was nothing left to do now but sit and wait for word of the new dawn, and so he sat, polishing his broom, watching the dying fire, thinking of the new world which was to come.

Viktor was sitting in the greenhouses, working away at re-potting full grown mandrakes. He had to be careful though, since he was allergic to the smell of them. He was the only one he knew who was; it was a very strange, mysterious allergy.

Suddenly, he leaned back and,

"ACHOO!"

He sneezed, right into the face of a particularly ugly Mandrake. The Mandrake stopped crying, staring at him with a curious expression on its ugly, scrunched up face and cried a wailing cry. It was so loud Viktor heard it through his earmuffs, and he fell off his chair, unconscious.

Years later, Viktor was sitting in his chair, wand by his side. He had to be careful to stay hidden; if anyone found out that it was he who had helped in the rebellion of the house elves, it would be very bad. It was probably a bad idea to listen to Hermione, who cam up to him the year before, asking for his help, but he did anyway. Now, with the Ministry looking for him, he had to stay out of the way, hiding in the shadows until the heat died down. He would never forgive Hermione for this.

But he did forgive her for being a smart individual who knew what was best. She managed to get the Ministry to drop all of the charges against him and had invited Viktor to live near her parents, who needed companionship.

He could finally be at peace; his life was finally going in the right direction. He had married the love of his life, raised an adorable son named Harry, after his wife's best friend and could finally relax. Yes, Viktor had everything he wanted and more, and he thanked the stars everyday that he could enjoy it all, alive.

(Woo hoo, I'm finished!! 100 Drabbles done )