Harry took a deep shuddering breath and almost relaxed for a moment as the sub-zero air filled his lungs. Green eyes stared out at the frozen landscape around him. He stood on the bridge of Durmstrang Institute, deep in the mountains of Scandinavia. The dark castle behind him loomed menacingly, seemingly carved brutally out of the very mountain it was situated on. The towers points looked like rough spears piercing the sky. There were no windows aside from on the towers, they preferred not to freeze to death while learning or sleeping.

The bridge which connected the castle to the mountain peak adjacent to it was made of dark stones, rugged and surely held together only by magic and the hope of those who crossed it. Harry walked to the side of the bridge looking down at the frozen lake below him. In Helvete Sjø, the large lake below the school, was the Durmstrang Ship. The snowflakes that cascaded steadily, hissed and disappeared before they could cascade into the unnaturally warm lake.

A gust of wind ruffled his midnight hair and he pulled his fur cloak tighter to himself. His thoughts were far from the cold, about one thousand kilometers away in Britain. Headmaster Karkaroff had announced that night that Durmstrang would be participating in the Triwizard Tournament which would be held at Hogwarts, the wizarding school in Britain. The school Harry was supposed to attend.

When Harry turned eleven he received a letter he had not expected. A letter kept safely within the walls of Gringotts, only to be seen by Harry Potter the day he turned eleven.

Harry was sitting alone in his cupboard on the edge of the too-small cot, sniffling softly. He was locked in and hadn't eaten in days. He knew the Dursley's wouldn't remember his birthday, they had never once remembered it in eleven years. He had tried so hard all night not to cry, he desperately wanted to be stronger than that, but eventually the silent tears came.

"Happy Birthday Harry." He whispered to himself, tugging his scrawny legs up and burying his face in his knees. He sat like that for a while until a quiet pop made him look up in surprise. On the dirty cot in front of him was a pristine white envelope. The beautiful script read his full name. He got up and placed an ear to the door but heard no sound, the Dursley's likely were still sleeping. Climbing back down onto the cot he picked the letter up and examined it.

Strange things like this were not an unheard-of occurrence in the world of little Harry Potter. He knew he was different, not a freak like his awful relatives told him, just different. Harry always hoped he was special and that one day, he might do amazing things and his odd incidents would help him achieve that. So, when a white envelope appeared out of thin air on his eleventh birthday, he took it in stride, embracing the weird happenings in his life and broke the wax seal.

Inside was a letter written on parchment, which was also very strange. Shrugging it off and smiling at the greeting, he read eagerly.

My Little Harry,

It is your eleventh birthday, and what an important birthday it is! I am hoping this beats the school owls (and if I know Goblins it will, remarkable beings they are, truly fascinating). I wanted to be the one to tell you first. You, my darling, are so very special. You are what is known as a wizard, just like your Father. I'm a witch, and we are capable of the most wondrous feat in the world, Magic. Now I know this is hard to believe but please keep going, more will be explained.

If you're reading this then your Father and I have been killed, and out of everything I could say to you first I want to say I'm sorry. I am so very sorry for leaving you alone my little bird, and so is your Father. We have all been caught in a web of deceit and it is too late to turn back.

But we want things to be different for you, love, we want you to have a choice. That's why this is reaching you now. But before we go any further I have some things I need to say.

I want you to take care of yourself, okay? The world is cruel and sometimes you must be too. Protect yourself above all else and know that no matter where the trails you choose in your life take you, we are so very proud of you. Do not give your secrets easily, they should be a hard earned and precious gift. Do not listen to the biased opinions that will surround you, blind worship breeds soldiers not citizens. Gain knowledge and form opinions of your own for the world will never be painted in black and white.

I am sure against all our wishes you were placed with my sister Petunia and her atrocious family and knowing those awful Muggles you are not treated well. Just know, Harry, you are so very loved and we are with you always.

This letter is your chance Harry, a chance to be more than a pawn in an old fool's game. When you are finished reading this letter, get your things together, and for goodness sake's wear a coat. Whisper 'Severus' to this paper and a man by this name will take you far from your awful aunt and any War and somewhere you won't be found. Start a new life, with a new name. Severus was my best friend; he is someone you can trust Harry.

Once again, we love you little bird. We can only hope this is the right decision.

Everything we have to give,

Mum and Dad xoxo

The man named Severus had been very unpleasant. He wondered at the time how the bat-like man could have been best friends with his mother when she seemed so very sweet. Regardless of his attitude, Severus had gathered Harry's things and they left together using something Severus called 'Apparition'. They had appeared in front of a small cottage in what looked to be the Arctic Tundra. The man who came to the door looked to be in his sixties, with graying hair and a long beard, he raised a thick eyebrow at Severus and jerked his head towards Harry before the two started speaking in Russian. Eventually the man crouched down and gave Harry an assessing once over before sticking his hand out. Warily he shook the mans hand, gripping as hard as he could to try to show he wasn't as weak as he looked. In a thick accent the man spoke.

"Goodbye Harry Potter, hello Arild Stepanov. I am Moriz."

Harry shook away the memories, it wouldn't do to start dwelling on the past. He needed his wits about him. He was going to be returning to Britain and he knew it. He was a Durmstrang treasure, in the eyes of alumni and staff the only person as adored as Harry was Viktor Krum. This had not been his intention, in fact all he wanted was for no one to look at him. But, in a school with roughly 100 -150 students going unnoticed was not an easy feat. He excelled in all subjects, and he took all the Institute offered. He was especially good at Dark Arts, Defence and Charms. After he beat the Italian Minister for Magic's son (who was three years above him) in a duel in his second year he caught the eye of several important people. Powerful political players, who mostly disgusted him to his core, but they were useful if nothing else.

The last five years, though, he had successfully avoided being featured in any newspaper or been seen outside of school except for very specifically chosen and less than reputable events with guarantees that no one from England would show up. He often thought he was perhaps a bit paranoid, but someone like him could not afford to slip even once. Not since he was eleven, and Moriz told him exactly what his involvement in the wizarding world was.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was the difference between the Dark Lord of Britain's downfall or his victory. For two years now the Dark Lord had been gaining followers and building his army. The speculation ran rampant as usual, but everyone could seem to agree that he was in control of the Ministry now. The outward appearance seemed unchanged, no battles in the Ministry, just quiet infiltration. His influence seeping through the government like insidious fog. One thing had not changed though, if he knew Harry was alive, he would come for him. Especially if the man had figured out what Harry was, what happened when the Killing Curse rebounded all those years ago. Why Harry could speak Parseltongue and had an affinity for Necromancy.

The panic in him started to rise again, his skin felt clammy despite the fact there were snowflakes in his eyelashes. He started to pant lightly and cursed himself. Clamping his eyes shut he forced the anxiety down.

Moriz would cuff him on the head if he saw him now. 'Again with your ridiculous moping, would you like me to pity you? No? Then fix yourself, you're the only one who can!' or 'Wearing your emotions on your face like some sort of Gryaznokrovka!' to which Harry would say 'Well technically I am half' and hope he was quicker than the old man this time. The thought brought a flicker of a smile across his face.

He placed his hands on the stone wall of the bridge and closed his eyes, willing himself to think of anything else. After a few moments he felt a presence by his side.

"Vasile." He said softly without opening his eyes. He heard his friend chuckle.

"How you always know it's me I will never know, păsărică." Harry finally opened his eyes to shoot a cold look at his friend over the nickname. His heart warmed a bit when he caught sight of him though. Vasile Antonescu was Harry's first friend at Durmstrang and, truly, his first friend ever. The Romanian boy was incredibly smart despite his usually silly nature. He came from a prominent Eastern European pureblood family, the same as most students at Durmstrang besides Harry. His olive skin and waist long chestnut hair with his strong jaw line made him look reminiscent of a medieval prince. His mannerisms with friends did not show his breeding, but put him in the middle of a charity ball and he could make even Ministers swoon. "Because you walk like an oaf. And do not call me that." He pushed back from the wall and turned to lean his hip against it. Vasile was only grinning at him, his ridiculous grin that made Harry wonder sometimes how he got tricked into this friendship. And then he noticed he was smiling back at the Romanian boy and remembered why he was his best friend, because he was the only one who could make him do that. When he noticed the concern in Vasile's eyes, however, his smile faded, remembering why he had sought solitude in the first place. Harry's face went back to it's usual vacant expression and the taller boy sighed. "Arild." He said tilting his head and forcing the green eyed boy to make eye contact. "It is okay to be scared. If anyone has a right to be scared over this tournament it is you." Harry wrenched his gaze away from sympathetic black eyes and managed to look unaffected. "I am not scared, simply... confused. I am not quite sure what I am going to encounter when I arrive there," Harry said, wandlessly casting a few detection charms to ensure their conversation was as private as they believed. "It is not a safe place for me." He began to stroll slowly towards the entrance to the castle and the other boy walked beside him. Vasile was one of four people who knew who he really was. "Perhaps you don't go? We can fair without you and-" The brunette stopped when he saw the look Harry was giving him and sighed morosely. "I know. Karkaroff would kick you out. Moriz would kill Karkaroff. No good for anyone." Harry actually managed a small laugh as that image passed through his head and noticed Vasile had a spring in his step after. The boy was ridiculously easy to please. "I knew I would have to deal with all I left behind one day. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon." And it was true, he always knew somewhere inside of him that he would have to face his demons eventually. He had hoped to be out of school, maybe to have more experience. Sure abilities and power were above average but he was not vain enough to think he could best someone three times his age and known as one of the best wizards that had ever lived. "Will you seek him out?" Vasile asked tentatively. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Right. Of course, you won't. Trouble will just manage to find you as usual." The pair reached the giant steel doors and entered the school, pulling off their thick coats and basking for a moment in the warmth of the castle. Harry loved entering the ancient building, tasting the rich Dark Magic seeped into the stone. It wrapped each student in its embrace and told them they had arrived in a place where judgement for their darker nature would not be cast here, for they were home. Harry and Vasile chatted idly as they walked to the dorms. When they reached the doors to the common room they heard the unmistakable sounds of a party. They opened the door and it was dark except for the lights that flashed from the tips of people's wands as bodies pressed together, it smelled of smoke and sweat and alcohol. "They must be celebrating our participation in the tournament," Harry murmured taking it all in happily. He loved a good Durmstrang party, if only because he loved good sex. A blond boy Harry had Defence with walked past him and gave him a wink and a come-hither gesture before disappearing into the throng of people dancing. He looked over at his friend who was smirking at him. "Perhaps a blond may help you forget your troubles tonight?" Vasile asked. Harry couldn't help but agree and disappeared into the crowd as well. ********

Severus,

I know you are no fool and I know you are hardly a Death Eater, which is why I am writing to you. The Triwizard Tournament, hm? I am not an idiot, I can see bait when it is laid out in front of me so blatantly. The Dark Lord knows my age and he knows if I am at Beauxbatons or Durmstrang I will be showing my face at Hogwarts. I will not tell you not to worry, as I am almost possible you are incapable, much like myself. I will only tell you to be careful, you are the only one in Britain who will recognize me, I will be using a Glamour on my eyes.

Control your emotions upon sight of me, dear Severus, and I will be seeing you soon.

-Arild Stepanov

Severus Snape read the letter for the sixth time, swirling his Scotch absentmindedly. So the boy would be coming to Hogwarts. He knew when he was told of the Tournament it was going to happen, it did not make him any less afraid.

He was not afraid of the young Harry Potter, rather, he was afraid the young one would not be able to protect his mind. He seemed sharp enough in his letter, though, and Severus had great faith in Moriz.

The Dark Lord would be given a run for his money even if he found out the true identity of the Durmstrang student. Hopefully, he would never find out exactly who Arild was, or it would be both their lives.