This story is definitely one of the top five in the fest so far. (Except that I actually have a top ten or a top twelve, and I'm sure my "top" total will be much higher before the posting ends. Like an enchanted wizard tent, my top five just expands to accommodate all the best stories -- and there are so many of them in this fest.) This fic is simply excellent.
These characters are so complex and so psychologically believable and so. . .grown-up, yet their canon outlines are still recognizable. Krum comes alive nicely; there are so many touches that flesh him out. The Bulgarian details are very effective (although I'm afraid that comment doesn't actually mean much; I know exactly two Bulgarians personally. But from the standpoint of a piece of the fiction, it all feels right -- the phrases, the nicknames, Krum's reaction to Harry's sipping the rakia). Your decriptive details are so well-chosen; they really give a sense of place and character (the opening scene, the return to Hogwarts, for instance.)
I'm particularly impressed by the secondary characters: McGonagall, Snape, even Hooch are fully presented. (And you couldn't have pleased this KittyHawk fan's heart better than with the paragraph on MM's brief pause over Hooch's death and Krum's speculation about their relationship. I love your Minerva totally. The old bat.) And James is a flat-out triumph.
Among the many lines/ideas I loved:
The fact that the Americans have a bastardized version of Quidditch -- of course we would! It's the antithesis of flying. Running keeps me tethered to the earth, but moving, always moving He needed a haircut. I hoped he resisted the urge I wondered if the furrow between his eyebrows was fixed permanently in place by paint or if he really was just that miserable of a bastard Snape huffed and leaned back against the carved chair in Violet's portrait. It was woven through with ivy and roses; he looked utterly ridiculous (Nice to see Violet again, too!) The Draco description and All of us from Durmstrang had pegged him as a poof within the first week despite that sour-tongued little bitch draped over him