Harry had always been an early riser, the dreams or visions, he
couldn't be certain what they were, not allowing him to slumber
peacefully for the most part. This morning, however, he had been
woken by the sound of snoring from one of his dorm-mates, the
werewolf he had met the night before.
Cain Jankowski had come to Durmstrang from Poland, and along
with three others, had been placed in a room with Harry.
He was a cautious boy, his eyes constantly shifting back and forth,
as though he expected to be attacked at any moment.
His hair had already begun to grey, and several deep scars littered
his hands, face, and neck, the remnants of the many transformations
he had already endured.
From what Harry could gather, the boy had been turned as a baby,
though when one of the other boys had asked, it had been clear he
did not wish to discuss it.
They were still strangers, after all, so Harry could understand his
reluctance.
Two of the three other boys in the room were half-bloods, one hailing
from Russia; a bastard son of a nobleman he refused to name
through fear of being murdered by the family.
Alex claimed that his father acknowledged him in secret, and that he
and his mother was well-cared for, just not openly to avoid scandal
and the inevitable fallout.
Not that any of that mattered to Harry.
Alex seemed friendly enough, and his personal life was the business
of no one else.
Bruno Werner, the other half-blood, had joined them from Germany.
Harry hadn't spoken to him much, but he was rather quiet, and
seemed to observe more than join in conversations, choosing to do
so only when he had something pertinent to say.
He was rather guarded, particularly towards the last person in their
group.
Jonas Schneider was from Austria, was rather brash, and claimed
that his mother was a hag.
Harry was unsure of the veracity of the claim, but it didn't seem that
it was something to be boastful of, especially with how prejudiced
Durmstrang seemed to be.
Outwardly, the school claimed to be accepting of all, but there were
no muggleborns here, and those that were not purebloods were
certainly treated differently.
Harry suspected he and the others were only allowed to attend
because the school needed the funding from tuition fees.
Not that Karkaroff was likely to admit it.
Still, he was here now, and he was determined to make the most of
his time by working towards his own goals. Something the
headmaster had assured him he would be able to do.
With Cain still snoring, the prospect of getting any more sleep was
lost, so Harry decided that he would use the time before breakfast to
do something productive.
Taking his leave of the dorm, he entered the common room to find
that it wasn't as empty as he had hoped.
The vampire he had met briefly the night before was in there, her
pale skin illuminated by the roaring fire she was seated in front of.
There were several others in the room also, but they were sleeping,
dotted around on the many sofas, and some even on the floor.
"I won't bite you, you know," the girl commented dryly.
Harry hadn't realised he'd been staring and offered an apology that
the girl waved off.
"I don't suppose you've been around my kind?"
"No," Harry answered.
The girl nodded.
"What do you know about us?"
"Nothing really," Harry answered honestly. "Immortal, vulnerable to
garlic."
The girl snorted.
"Among other things," she replied. "The clan I am a part of don't
hunt. It's illegal now, and we would have been slaughtered centuries
ago. That's why I have the blood I do. It's provided by people who
are paid for it."
"But you're here?"
"I am," the girl acknowledged. "I was not born a vampire. My parents
decided they wished to join the clan when I was three, and I was
turned a couple of years later. I still have my witch magic, along with
the vampire things."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"Did you want to be turned?"
"I wasn't asked," the girl answered with a shrug. "My parents made
that decision for me. Our leader was furious with them."
Harry felt sick at the thought of the girl being turned by her own
parents, but it seemed to be something she took in her stride.
"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduced himself.
The girl raised an eyebrow at him.
"Lucinda," she replied.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lucinda," Harry offered as he took a seat
next to her.
The girl seemed taken aback as she eyed him questioningly.
"Is it?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Well, most humans hate us," Lucinda pointed out. "It's funny really,
the purebloods are more tolerant of us than others, but they put us in
here with you."
"Because they're better than the rest of us," Harry snorted.
Lucinda grinned, exposing her elongated fangs.
"Exactly," she agreed. "We can't forget that. Why are you here,
anyway?" she asked curiously. "You're British. Shouldn't you be at
Hogwarts?"
Harry shook his head.
"It's a long story," he sighed, "but Durmstrang is where I need to be."
Lucinda simply nodded in response, not pressing him to elaborate.
"I suppose we all have our stories," she murmured. "We have seven
years to tell them."
"We do," Harry sighed as he stood, pausing as he reached for the
nearby drawn curtains. "The sunlight…"
"It's fine," Lucinda assured him. "We have spells and other things
that protect us from it. Our clan leader gave me this," she explained,
showing Harry an amulet that was tucked within her dress.
It appeared to be made from amber, but before he could get a closer
look, the girl placed it back where it had been.
"So, are you a werewolf or any other mix?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, just a half-blood wizard," he informed her. "My father was a
pureblood and my mother a muggleborn."
Lucinda nodded, but they were interrupted by the arrival of another
group before the conversation could continue.
It was a retinue of other first-years that entered the common room,
Ana amongst them.
She gave Harry an enthusiastic wave as she made her towards them
with another girl in tow.
"How did you sleep?" she asked.
"I don't sleep much," Harry snorted. "I never have."
"Oh," Ana said quietly. "Well, this is…"
"Eleanor Summerbee," the girl that had followed broke in.
Her blue eyes were alight with mischief, her smile matching, and her
long blonde was tied in an elaborate braid.
"Summerbee?" Lucinda questioned. "Aren't your family all
purebloods?"
"Disgraced purebloods," Summerbee corrected with a grin. "My
grandmother is a rather famous thief. She stole several-hundredthousands
of galleons from different branches of Gringotts in the
thirties."
The girl seemed to be rather proud of the feat, and Harry nodded
appreciatively.
Gringotts was supposed to be amongst the most secure banks
across the world, after all.
"How did she manage that?" Harry asked.
Eleanor taped the end of her nose.
"Family secret."
Harry snorted amusedly as he checked his watch.
"Shouldn't we be heading down for breakfast now?"
Lucinda nodded as the other boys Harry shared a room with arrived.
"Where did you get to, Harry?" Cain questioned.
"Well, with you snoring like a beast, I didn't feel like sticking around,"
Harry replied dryly, "So I imposed my company on Lucinda for a
while. She even offered to turn me if I get bored of being a human."
"I did not!" Lucinda retorted hotly.
"Ah, maybe you'll make the offer another day," Harry sighed airily,
smirking at the glaring vampire. "Come on, we don't want to be late."
Without waiting for the others, he made his way towards the exit, an
enormous, stone sliding door that led to one of the first-floor
corridors.
This meant that the walk to the main hall wasn't a long one, and he
arrived only a few minutes later with the others trailing behind.
It was difficult to miss the looks of mistrust from the purebloods that
were already here, and though none of them passed comment,
Harry suspected things would not remain so when they interacted
with each other more.
Still, he cared little for their opinion of him, or even the others he had
been banded with.
Harry was here for his own reasons, and so long as he was left to
pursue his goals in peace, he would not be the one to instigate any
unpleasantness.
"Not a bad selection of food," Jonas declared as he helped himself to
a few sausages.
The group said little as they ate, and Harry watched with interest as
they selected their chosen meals.
"So, you don't eat any normal food?" he asked Lucinda.
The girl licked a trail of blood from her forefinger and shook her
head.
"Your food all tastes like ash to me," she explained. "I only need
this."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"What about you, Ana?"
"My people eat mostly fish, vegetables, and some types of insects,"
she informed him. "Forest food."
"Ergh," Jonas grimaced.
"Unless you have tried it for yourself, you shouldn't judge," Ana
replied politely. "We have a very healthy diet, unlike some," she
added, nodding towards the platter of sausages the boy had taken a
second helping from.
Jonas merely shrugged and continued eating.
"Bruno," Harry pressed.
"We eat a lot of liver, well, my mother does," the Austrian explained.
"I can't stand it personally, but I get sick if I go too long without it.
Something about the stuff helps keep us healthy."
"Is that a hag thing then?"
"I think so," Bruno replied. "Even though only a female can be
considered a hag, I still have some of the magic and physical traits."
"I didn't even know hags could have boys," Eleanor broke in
thoughtfully.
"It's quite rare," Bruno explained, "but it does happen occasionally.
My mother was surprised when I came along. I'm surprised she
didn't have me gelded and raise me as a girl."
The others laughed, though it died abruptly as Professor Karkaroff
approached, his gaze shifting to each of them before coming to a
rest on Harry.
"First years will remain within the hall when breakfast is concluded,"
he announced, turning away before any could pester him with
questions.
"He's happy," Eleanor giggled. "I wonder why he's so miserable."
"Because he has to run a school full of your kind," a sneering voice
answered as a group of boys passed.
"Our kind?" Harry asked.
"Filthy half-breeds," the boy sneered.
"Rather a half-breed than an inbred," Harry returned with a shrug.
The others around him gasped as some laughed, but the boy he had
spoken to reddened considerably.
"You'd best watch that cheek," he advised through clenched teeth.
"There are some of us here that don't take kindly to be spoken to in
such a way by those that should not be breathing the same air."
"I'll remember that," Harry replied. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to
finish my half-breed breakfast. Lucinda, would you mind passing me
some of the blood?"
The boy paled as Harry took a sip and fought the urge to vomit.
He didn't know how Lucinda could stomach the viscous fluid, but he
managed to play it off as though he was enjoying it.
Without another word, the boy and his group left the hall and Harry
immediately reached for a goblet of water, draining it in only a few
sips.
"Remind me to not do that again," he pleaded.
"Idiot," Lucinda muttered as she took the blood from him.
"It was worth it," Harry replied, nodding as Karkaroff returned with
several other professors joining him this time.
The older students took this as their cue to leave, and those that
remained fell silent and waited for the man to speak.
"Again, I welcome you all to Durmstrang," Karkaroff began, though
his tone lacked any sincerity. "The people you see before you will be
responsible for your education for the first two years here, and you
will meet all of them over the course of the next week as they
introduce you to the studies they teach."
Some of the professors waved, some offered nods, and others
remained unmoving as Karkaroff gestured towards them.
"Now, I will explain a few things that apply to all of you," the
headmaster continued. "Firstly, there are extensive charms and other
wonderful magics used at this institute solely to ensure that
languages are not a barrier. The magic translates over six hundred
known tongues from each corner of the earth so that we can
communicate with one another. If you are a speaker of Russian, any
words spoken are translated into your language. No other school has
this magic in place, so I would still advise you to learn some
languages you are not familiar with."
Harry was impressed.
It was not something he'd even considered, but with almost all the
people he had conversed with being from different countries, he
perhaps should have.
"Also, the duelling room is off limits to all first years," Karkaroff said
firmly. "You will be able to attend from the beginning of your second
year, if you so choose to. There are no exceptions to this rule. Do I
make myself clear?"
The students nodded their understanding.
"Now, for how the next two years will unfold for you. Here at
Durmstrang, we do not have a set curriculum. We believe in finding
your strengths and developing them beyond the norm. Why waste
time working on transfiguration if it is something you lack the gift in?
No, the first two years will be spent identifying your strengths through
rigorous examinations and assessing your aptitude for each of the
subjects on offer. Of course, we encourage you to broaden your
studies in your own time, but we will find where you thrive, and when
your second terms is coming to an end, you will meet with your head
of year to discuss your future education."
Harry liked how the system worked here, and was eagerly
anticipating what subjects he might do well in.
"Before I leave you, I would like to introduce Professor Sidorov who
will be your head of year for the duration of your time here."
The woman that stepped forward was tall and lithely built, silverhaired
and with the most brilliant blue eyes that Harry had ever seen.
Although he was not really interested in females in any other way
than friendship, he knew that she was beautiful, and judging by the
way the other boys were staring, they thought so too.
He shook his head of the thought and frowned at the odd tingling
that had overcome him.
"Impressive," Sidorov acknowledged, eying him with curiosity. "It will
become easier to ignore the effect the more time we spend
together."
Harry had no idea what the woman meant, and she offered him a
smile.
"For those of you that haven't figured it out yet, I am a veela," she
explained. "You will learn about my species in one of your magical
creature lessons, but for now, please do not be alarmed by the
magic you can feel. It will not harm you, and your body will
eventually build an immunity to it. Some quicker than others," she
added, looking at Harry once more. "I am the Charms Professor
here, and as Headmaster Karkaroff explained, I will be your Head of
Year."
"Thank you, Professor Sidorov," Karkaroff interjected. "For the first
two weeks here, you will be given an introduction to each of the
subjects taught. The list is quite extensive, and you are expected to
perform at your very best in every session. Firstly, you will follow
Professor Sidorov for a charms lesson, and then she will take you on
to the next. Any questions?"
No one raised their hands, something Karkaroff was seemingly
pleased with as he nodded and took his leave of the hall.
"If you would all please follow me," Sidorov requested.
The boys all but jumped to their feet and did so whilst some of the
girls looked on confusedly at their behaviour.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
Lucinda rolled her eyes.
"Veela have natural magic that is designed to draw the attention of
the opposite sex," she explained. "It can be quite a problem for those
that have not been around it for long enough, but you seem to be
getting used to it quickly."
Harry frowned as he nodded.
"I can feel it," he admitted, "but it's not overwhelming."
"It is for most," Lucinda snorted. "Look at the idiots. I'm surprised
most of them aren't actually drooling."
"I think Jonas might be," Ana broke in amusedly.
Harry snorted and shook his head as he walked with the girls who
were lagging behind the gawping boys.
"You should watch yourself with the purebloods, Harry," Lucinda
warned. "That stunt with the blood won't endear you to them, and
some of them are from very powerful families."
Harry merely shrugged.
"I'm not here to make friends," he replied simply. "I'm here so that I
can deal with my enemies. If I make more on the way, then so be it,
but I will never end up worse off than any of them, not again."
The girl's looked at each other questioningly, taken aback by Harry's
change of demeanour, though the opportunity to press him further
never came as they arrived at the classroom for their first taste of a
Durmstrang education.
Pansy had been prepared to be sorted into Slytherin, having been
groomed by her father for the house her family had been a part of for
more generations than she could count.
She had even been prepared to deal with her housemates. She had
met most of them, after all.
What she hadn't been prepared for, however, was the fixation they
would have on Harry and the fact that he had not arrived as many
had been expecting.
Draco was the most vocal of the students, his theories as to why
Harry wasn't here only becoming more ridiculous.
"I bet he's a squib!" the blonde declared gleefully. "The Dark Lord
must have damaged him. That's why no one has seen him."
Some of her other housemates seemed to consider the notion. It
was more plausible than him being taken in as an Unspeakable and
trained to be a secret weapon for the Ministry, but he was still wrong,
and Pansy snorted internally.
Why Draco was so fixated, she didn't know, but it was becoming
tiresome very quickly.
"You're acting as though you wouldn't have tried to befriend him,"
Theo muttered amusedly. "I'm sure your father would have insisted
on it."
Draco nodded unashamedly.
"He did suggest it, but Potter isn't here," Draco pointed out. "He's
probably crying over his mudblood mother's grave."
He laughed as if he had made the most comical of jokes, and most
of the others joined in.
If Harry was here, Draco would not make that kind of quip a second
time, but as he had rightly said, he wasn't, something that Pansy
was still upset about.
She had been convinced Harry would come to Hogwarts, though she
understood his reasoning for not.
Still, she couldn't rid herself of the disappointment and hoped that
whatever he was doing at Durmstrang, it would make him happy,
and that she would still be welcomed to visit him during the summer.
He had been her first friend, and despite enjoying the company of
most of her housemates, none of them were Harry.
The first Charms lesson had been little more than a brief overview of
how their time during the first two years under the tutelage of
Professor Sidirov would be spent, with a rather impressive
demonstration from the woman as a finale.
Harry knew he would enjoy those lessons, but he was not as certain
with the Dark Arts under Professor Novak.
The man was almost as pale as Lucinda, and even had a similar
shade of red eyes, though he was no vampire.
Harry had felt a sense of unease wash over him as he entered the
room, his skin tingling as he did so.
He couldn't be sure if it was Novak, or something else, but it was
something he couldn't ignore.
"The Dark Arts," the man begun reverently, speaking just loud
enough for his voice to carry across the room. "To truly master them,
you must understand the nature of the magic, let it become a part of
you. They are forever changing, never the same from one moment to
the next. If they are not respected, they will either consume you or
they will destroy you. If you can allow them to permeate within, they
can be the greatest of allies."
The students remained silent as Novak began pacing slowly back
and forth, staring intently at a few before continuing.
"Not all of you will have an affinity for them, the willpower to keep the
undesirable effects at bay, but those few of you that possess the
potential to unlock the power of the magics will benefit greatly."
The reverence had not left his tone, but it had also taken on an edge
of warning.
"Nevertheless, for the next two years, you will undergo a journey to
see if you have what it takes, and if you do not, you will at least gain
enough understanding to combat them in a defensive manner. No,
your time here will not be wasted," he assured them. "Who can feel
it?" he asked curiously.
The students looked at one another confusedly, but Harry raised his
hand and Novak nodded.
"Find it," he instructed.
Harry stood and followed the magic to the corner of the classroom
where a cabinet rested, aware that all eyes were on him.
He paused as he reached the cabinet and held out his hand
hesitatingly.
"What is it?"
The voice sounded in his ear.
Harry had not felt Novak following him, and he swallowed deeply as
the magic of the cabinet pulsed against his consciousness.
"It wants me to touch it," he whispered, "but it will harm me if I do."
Novak smiled, but it was not a pleasant expression.
"What is it?" he repeated excitedly.
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
The magic felt familiar, though he was certain he had never felt
anything like it, not even from his studies of the Black magic.
"It will burn the flesh away," he answered, "but it can be stopped."
Without considering what he was doing, he drew his wand and
placed the tip against the cabinet.
In truth, he didn't know what he was doing, but it felt almost
instinctual, his own magic knowing how to combat what he faced.
After a moment, the cabinet crumbled to dust, and an unpleasant
scream rent the air.
Harry didn't realise that he had been sweating, but the voice of
Novak pulled him from the haze that had overcome him, and he was
distinctly aware of the chattering of the students.
"I did not expect that from any," Novak whispered, "let alone you, Mr
Potter. Who would have thought that such a beacon of light could
possess such talent? Yes, your time here will be very interesting,
indeed."
Harry met the man's surprised gaze before taking his seat.
Novak watched him with interest as he made his way back to the
front of the classroom.
Harry felt nothing but confusion.
He didn't know how he had done what he had, but he was pleased
that the curse had been broken, nonetheless.
"Of course, we will cover the basics of the Dark Arts first," Novak
declared. "What are the most well-known curses widely considered
to be of the branch?"
None raised their hands to answer.
"There are three spells in particular that the ICW deem to be
unforgivable if used," Novak hinted, emphasising the word
'unforgivable.'
"The Imperius curse," one of the purebloods answered.
"Correct," Novak confirmed. "A dangerous curse in the wrong hands.
Seizing control of someone's mind is a deadly weapon, not just
against the victim, but to any they come across. They can be used
as a tool to murder or carry out any other act the caster wishes if the
victim is unable to defend themselves from the effects. It is
something we will look into further into your studies. Another one,"
he requested.
"The torture curse," Lucinda called.
Novak nodded.
"The Cruciatus curse," he corrected. "Another unpleasant spell, one
that will cause the victim so much pain that they will plead for death.
Those held under it for a prolonged period can also have their minds
irreparably broken and become nothing but a shell of themselves. A
deeply unpleasant fate where you merely wait for your body to die so
that your mind can be freed from its prison. The last?"
"The killing curse," another pureblood called.
Novak nodded.
"Instant death," he murmured. "Many a man, woman, and child have
met their ends in such a way. A clean, and painless end for any that
finds themselves the victim, their life snuffed in a mere second. Only
one person is known to have survived it, something widely
considered by any expert in the Dark Arts to be an impossibility."
As he spoke, his gaze had shifted to Harry, flicking towards the scar
on his forehead.
"Even this far north, your story is a famous one, Mr Potter," he
murmured. "The vanquisher of a Dark Lord before you could even
hold a wand. Yours is already quite the story. Let us see how many
more chapters we can add to it, shall we?"
Harry met the man's stare as the others around him began to
whisper amongst themselves.
He had hoped that what had happened between him and Voldemort
had not become known so far from home, but that hope had
evidently been in vain.
Novak knew of it, and even if Karkaroff hadn't told him, Harry
suspected the man would have heard of it.
It was Novak that broke his stare first, his eyes drifting towards the
clock before offering Harry what he believed was a nod of
acknowledgement.
"Until next time," he called before disappearing through a door at the
back of the classroom.
Harry immediately took hold of his bag and left the room, taking a
deep breath to calm himself.
The entire lesson had been quite the experience, and though he
didn't appreciate Novak revealing his past, he didn't believe the man
had done so maliciously.
If anything, it was likely to have been an act of kindness.
It would make the purebloods more cautious of attempting to bully or
belittle him, or it may just have the opposite effect.
It mattered not to Harry.
"Wait!" a voice called as he made his way towards the main hall.
Harry paused to wait for the others to catch up.
"Did you really survive it?" Eleanor asked.
Harry nodded and each of them eyed him curiously.
"Voldemort," Cain clarified. "It was him, wasn't it?"
"It was."
Cain released a deep breath.
"I heard Greyback speaking about it," he explained. "We are a part of
his pack, me and my parents," he explained. "Not by choice, but for
safety."
"Why would he try to kill you?" Lucinda asked.
Harry shrugged.
"I don't know," he answered, "but he murdered my parents."
The others offered him a look of sympathy and Harry shook his
head.
He didn't want sympathy, for anyone to feel sorrow for what he had
endured.
"That's what you meant about enemies, isn't it?" Ana questioned.
"He had followers."
Harry nodded.
"I will return home to face them one day," he explained. "They will
not be pleased to see me, not when I was the cause for so many
problems for them."
"What will you do?" Jonas asked.
"I will live my life," Harry answered. "I will serve as the head of my
two families, and if any take exception to it, they will be more than
welcome to raise their grievances with me."
The others said nothing for a moment, taken aback once more by his
shift in demeanour.
"You know, you're quite scary, Harry," Bruno chuckled. "Remind me
not to get on the wrong side of you, especially now that you're
Novak's favourite. I thought he was going to wet himself with
excitement when you broke the cabinet. How did you do that,
anyway?"
"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "I just did it."
The others didn't seem to believe him entirely, but they didn't
question him further.
"Come on, let's get some lunch," Ana urged. "We've got
Transfiguration next."
Harry followed the others as they made their way to the main hall,
undecided if it was best his past had become known early on rather
than later.
He remained unsure as he took a seat to eat his lunch but joined in
the conversation with his classmates who did not mention anything
that had happened in the Dark Arts classroom, but he could not
ignore the curious looks they sent his way.
Holding regular meetings was an integral part of the schooling at
Durmstrang. The second years needed to be closely monitored and
reported on so that decisions could be made as to what subjects
they would be eligible to study from their third year onwards, and it
was an opportunity for staff to raise any concerns they had
observed.
The culture in the school was very much divided between the
pureblood students and the others, and although Igor couldn't care
less if they occasionally collided, there were children here of some
very influential figures across the wizarding world, and it would not
do for the school to receive negative attention.
Life at Durmstrang was all about balance, about ensuring those
students who would one day succeed their fathers felt that they were
above the others, but not allowing excess unpleasantness to
become rife.
"Our first years," Igor began. "What do you think of them thus far?"
"They seem to be a bright group," Sidirov replied. "The purebloods
have of course been told what to expect, but the others did not seem
perturbed by my expectations of them. I think when they have
settled, we will have a much better grasp of where each of them are
heading individually."
Igor nodded his agreement.
"Dunbar?" he questioned the Transfiguration professor.
"Some already have a reasonable grasp of the fundamentals," he
explained. "I have seen nothing to suggest that there are any who
will need to be excluded from the subject moving forward."
Igor hummed as he turned his attention to the Dark Arts professor.
Novak was an odd man who openly admitted that he had made
many mistakes during his pursuits throughout his life, but he was
perhaps one of the best and most experienced practitioners of the
Dark Arts in the world.
"I had a very interesting lesson with them," the man answered
quietly, though his eyes were alight with a spark of excitement. "The
Potter boy is certainly a surprise."
"Potter?" Igor asked suspiciously. "What has he done?"
"Nothing nefarious," Novak assured him. "On the contrary, the boy is
quite remarkable."
Igor frowned and gestured for the pale professor to continue.
"He not only identified my curse, but he found and countered it,"
Novak explained, "and he did so with skill, Igor. I believe the boy
could be a natural in the arts, if only he has the mental capacity to
succeed."
Igor nodded thoughtfully.
"He is a curious boy," he murmured. "The only person to survive the
killing curse…"
"And seems to have the ability to wield much more dangerous and
evocative magic," Novak interjected. "He is quite the enigma, no?"
Igor hummed.
"What are everyone else's thoughts on the boy?"
"He managed to resist my allure almost immediately," Sidirov
answered. "I seemed to have little effect on him at first, and then he
shook it off as though it was nothing. It is quite impressive."
"Impressive indeed," Igor acknowledged. "I would like him watched
closely during his lessons," he instructed. "There seems to be much
potential there, and I would see how far he can be pushed."
"Why?" Sidirov asked, a frown marring her features.
"Because even before he could speak a full sentence, he became
the downfall of the most powerful wizard I have ever met, and all of
these little things you have mentioned do not strike me as
coincidences. Potter could be an exceedingly powerful wizard and
would be quite the man to boast of if his talents are nurtured."
"It will draw some unwanted attention to him from some of the
purebloods that will not take kindly to him succeeding."
Igor snorted as he shook his head.
"Some of the purebloods will one day ascend to lofty heights," he
conceded, "but Harry Potter is already there, and will ascend only
further. I have it on good authority that he is to inherit the titles of
Lord Potter, his birth right of course, and Lord Black, two exceedingly
prominent positions in wizarding Britain."
"Whose authority?" Sidirov asked curiously.
"Mine," Igor answered simply. "I do not believe the infamous
Cassiopeia Black is choosing to raise the boy out of the goodness of
her heart, is she?"
"Black?" Sidirov gasped.
"It is her who wrote to me to give the boy a tour a little over a year
ago," he explained. "It is not common knowledge that he is living with
her."
"There will be many that do not like that," Novak pointed out. "Many
still remember what she did during the Grindelwald years."
"Then we keep the knowledge to ourselves unless it proves to be to
our advantage to make it known," Igor decided, "but for now, I wish
to see just what Potter is truly capable of. Push him, but do not break
him. Olaffson, I'd like you to do the same. I want him durable and
resilient."
The enormous Icelandic man grunted and nodded his
understanding.
Olaffson was in charge of the physical activities that the students
could choose to take part in; Quidditch, self-defence, and fitness for
magic were his forte.
Igor was truly interested to see what Potter would become
throughout his time here. If Novak was taking a keen interest in the
boy, he undoubtedly had potential, that coupled with everything else
that seemed to be happening around the boy suggested that he
would indeed become quite the formidable wizard.
If he could endure and overcome the adversity he would
undoubtedly face in the coming years.
It had been an interesting first day for Harry, but he was pleased that
it had finally come to an end, and he could simply enjoy some time to
relax in the common room with the other first years he had been
housed with.
Durmstrang was already proving to be more than he had anticipated,
but what had become clear immediately was that his journey here
would very much depend on how he performed in each of his
lessons for the first two years.
How much help he would get from the professors seemed to depend
on that.
Still, he was focused, determined to succeed, and ensure that he
was in a position to see an end to his goals in the future.
"Did you really survive the killing curse?" Cain asked, pulling Harry
from his thoughts.
His peers had been shooting his questioning glances for much of the
day, and Harry knew that it was inevitable that they would soon be
unable to hold their tongues.
He nodded as he released a deep breath.
"Voldemort murdered my parents and tried to do the same to me. He
failed," he finished with a shrug.
"Damn," Cain whispered. "I'm sorry about your parents."
The others nodded.
"How did you survive?" Lucinda pressed.
"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. "I don't know if I will ever
understand it, but I'm here, and he isn't."
' For now,' he added internally.
His classmates seemed disappointed with his explanation, almost as
though they were expecting an incredible story in which an infant
Harry had somehow managed to overpower the Dark Lord.
It had been nothing of the sort, and more likely nothing more than a
fortuitous encounter in his favour.
Not that Harry could rely on such things in the future.
He could not hope that his enemies would somehow destroy
themselves.
No, Harry would need to do that off his own merit and ability.
"What about what happened in Dark Arts?" Ana questioned.
Once more, Harry did not have an explanation to give.
He had felt the magic upon entering the room and had even been
able to identify what it was despite never having encountered it, not
that he knew of at least.
However, it definitely felt familiar, and it was almost as though his
own magic was guiding him in how to eradicate the curse.
It was a confusing experience, and frustrating that he didn't quite
understand how he had done what he had.
"I don't know," he answered again.
Before his housemates could voice their disappointment in his
explanation, a tap on the window interrupted the conversation.
"Callidora!" Harry said enthusiastically, greeting Cassie's bird as he
opened the window to admit her. "What have you got for me girl?"
He relieved the owl of her burden, a note penned in Cassiopeia's
familiar scroll, and a roll of parchment that had been sealed.
Harry,
I hope your first day has been everything you wanted it to be.
The scroll is from a friend of mine who attended Durmstrang some
years ago.
I would urge you to keep the contents to yourself.
The house is quiet without.
Cassie
Harry smiled.
Although she wouldn't openly admit it, the woman missed him, and
he felt a sudden wave of homesickness wash over him.
He missed Cassie too, but he turned his attention to scroll before
tapping it with his wand.
His smile widened as he read the unfamiliar handwriting.
Durmstrang had already been interesting, but with the knowledge he
had just been handed, it had only become more so, and he was
already looking forward to investigating the school with the help of
someone who had already done so.