Summary: AU! Harry Potter has been going to Durmstrang ever since he was eight, but when his Godfather is released and set free, he has to attend Hogwarts. Thank God it's the Triwiard tournament this year. HPxLL Revised!
Dark Light
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| we've got forever, slipping through our hands |
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Harry breathes in and then out, magic overflowing his senses for a minute, the power coursing from the tip of his fingers to his arms and then pausing in his chest, before dividing, giving him a head rush and making his knees weak at the same time.
He's learning how to place wards, but more importantly how to detect them. His wand is loose in his hand, the incantation barely a whisper on his lips. He might not be as gifted as Rayna without his wand, but speechless magic is a second nature to him. People can see him pointing his wand, but they never expect what's coming.
He's a surprise – no one really expects him.
"That's enough for today." Professor Levski's words break his bubble, his shoulders dropping, the synergy he shared with magic gone. There's a sigh that escapes his lips, warmth dissolving from his body and making him cold. Imaginary wards become liquid, dropping on the floor like a rushed shower but don't make the floor wet.
Harry turns to his mentor, his teacher and his only relative with an eyebrow raised in annoyance. He huffs at the smile the man sends his way, clearly not apologetic.
"You'll miss the feast." The older one says finally, when Harry doesn't move. Green eyes narrow on the clock that hangs high above the cupboard and he rolls his eyes.
"I still have twenty minutes. Besides, classes are over." The departing feast is a Durmstrang tradition. The last day of the year is spent lounging in the castle, listening to a tedious speech given by Igor Karkaroff, eat until one's stomach would explode and then, the best part if you ask Harry, the end of the year bash.
"Go. Hang out with your friends – it's not like you won't be stuck with me all summer." Harry rolls his eyes, like he actually minds spending time with Ivanov Levski.
"I can see when I'm not wanted." The man rolls his eyes as Harry huffs and makes a dramatic exist, throwing a book at his back. It hits the door with a bang and Harry's laughter carries through the room even seconds after.
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Durmstrang has always been known for its – peculiar atmosphere. Harry's heard plenty of rumors, Beauxbatons Academy is full of veelas and Hogwarts is always one incident away from closing. And while he knows the things that are said about his own school, he doesn't care. It's home.
It has been ever since he was eight years old and Professor Levski had started working here. While his guardian taught, Harry lingered in the hallways, learned them by heart, to the point where he could hide and no one would be able to find him until he wanted to be found. He would crawl in tight spaces, stay there for hours – just like a cupboard under the stairs had been home once, a long time ago.
"Well, you took your time." Harry has a boyish grin on his face as he lets himself fall on the bench next to her. Rayna is older than him by a year and she's already taller than him – not like he'll ever be a tall man. Years of abuse are bound to leave scars and he has fully accepted the fact that he will remain at five foot four. But she likes to tease him with it, so he pretends it still affects him.
He's just that devoted to her.
"How was your lesson?" And Viktor is three years older than him, two years older than Rayna and he's already quite the little star. People tease, of course Harry Potter would befriend Viktor Krum, Quidditch seeker extraordinaire. It helps that Harry is always at the forefront of every match Viktor plays, red paint spread all over his face and cheering so loud he's out of voice the next day.
"Fine. Detecting them is trickier than actually putting them up." He pouts, just like a baby, which makes Rayna elbow him hard in the ribs. Harry might be smart, but he's also lazy – if things don't come naturally he mostly gives up.
It's at that precise moment that Headmaster Karkaroff decides to take the stage, hand curled around a glass, almost like he's proposing a toast. He is in a way. That man is ruthless and most of the time he scares Harry, but he is fond of his students in his own way – his own very creepy way.
Harry tunes out, mind wandering to the summer. His trunk is already packed, has been for almost three days now. He suspects Ivanov will have a full curriculum for him because the man hates idleness. But mostly, Harry fully intends on spending most of his time in Rayna's pool, head under water, until his skin is so wrinkled he looks three times his age. The image of him in the pool is so clear he can already feel the sun on his skin and the warm breeze in his hair. He can picture Rayna in a very long chair, black hair curled because of salt water and sunglasses covering her eyes. Viktor throwing a ball at him, his seeker reflexes too good to be true.
"Let the feast begin and…" There's a pause. "Behave yourself." Harry rolls his eyes as the table fills with food. He turns his head to look between Rayna and Viktor, his two best friends, his two only friends really, who also happen to be dating.
It doesn't take long for the three of them to fall in their usual rhythm – Viktor's face twisted between a smile and a roll of eyes as him and Rayna bicker about the proper way to make something.
It's routine – absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Harry slowly turns his head as he feels the pat on his shoulder and blinks when Igor Karkaroff stands right in front of him. Harry's already short and where he's sitting down the man literally towers over him, giving no way of escaping.
He swallows, trying to remember if he's done anything wrong in the last couple of weeks.
"Mr. Potter – would you accompany me to my office?" Like he has a choice. He catches Rayna's movements as she also stands up. "No, not you two." Even if Viktor is his star pupil and Rayna's family happens to make very generous donations to the school, it seems Harry's stuck going alone. He finally stands up, eyes narrowed and follows the man out of the Main Hall, thinking that this may be the last time he ever sets foot here.
Karkaroff could easily kill him and hide his body somewhere no one would be able to find him. So much for another ordinary night.
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Harry makes a list of everything that he won't get to do, like celebrate his fourteenth birthday. Even as Karkaroff opens the door to his office and hushes him in, Harry thinks it's really too bad that he'll never see Viktor win the world cup or confess drunkenly to Rayna that he's been in love with her for years and that sometimes he hates himself for hating Viktor because that man in his blood brother and he would die for him when he's not drunk and still making sense.
Green eyes flicker in the dimly lit room. Harry takes a good look around, he hasn't been here in months, he's too lazy to cause mischief. His eyes pause on a tall figure and he lets out a sigh of relief when he notices his guardian in the room. If it's two against one, they might stand a better chance. But Professor Levski's face is somber, his figure tense and his fists are curled, knuckles turning white – Harry notices and becomes tense once again, expecting some sort of blow.
"Mr. Potter." There's a fourth. A man, so old his beard almost touches the floor. Harry's impressed, really, that the man hasn't tripped over it. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Ah. Harry sends a look to the outstretched hand, carefully looks at it a second and then two, before reaching for it.
"I've read about you." Not all good things, he doesn't add. The man seems pleased enough with his answers, blue eyes managing to twinkle even in the pale light and Harry wonders what the hell is going on right now.
"How nice." The man clears his throat, sending a look towards Karkaroff who seems as uncomfortable in this situation as Harry. It's odd, to find someone who can make his headmaster uneasy. For that, Harry has the tiniest bit of respect for the old man. "Harry, may I call you Harry?" Harry nods for Harry, so many Harry's. "You might be wondering why you are here and not at the feast right now." The boy-who-lived nods his head again, but not that curious. It takes too much energy to be curious. "Well, I come to you with good news." Judging by Ivanov's face, the way he seethes, Harry highly doubts it's good news.
Harry blinks.
"You see, in recent developments, the Ministry has release Sirius Black from Azkaban Prison. He was imprisoned under false charges and is now completely free and his name cleared." Harry hums, unsure of what to say exactly.
"Good for him." He doesn't even know who this Sirius Black is, but Harry knows about Azkaban. He suspects one would be thrilled to be out of there, especially if falsely accused.
"Yes. Even better, the man is your legal godfather. And since he's out and free, he's been asking to meet you." Harry cocks his head to the side, blinking once and then twice. "More importantly, you'll be going to live with him and attending Hogwarts in the fall." More blinking, neck cracking, Harry let's out a snort, as if this is a bad joke. He expects someone to come out and 'got you' or least throw confetti in his face. But a minute passes and no one moves.
"I'm sorry, what?" His guardian moves towards him, placing a shaking hand on his shoulder. He turns his eyes on the man, pleading with him to tell him this is a joke. Professor Levski's face is pained, Harry hates it. "I'm not going." He says, with that tone that's clear they'll have to drag him out of here and force him to go.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice." First words Karkaroff utters and Harry almost wishes he could burn the man alive. He doesn't look that torn up about it, although having Harry Potter in his school surely gives him very nice publicity.
"Clearly, he doesn't want to." His guardian's whole body is shaking with rage and Harry feels the tension in the room, the sudden rush of magic.
"It's not all bad, right?" Teeth clenched, Harry wonders if he has a shot at taking down the Hogwarts Headmaster. "In three years, Harry will be of age and then no one will be able to question his decision. However, for the time being, he should respect his late parents' wishes." He's about to comment, but Dumbledore cuts him off. "Tomorrow, we will meet you at Kings Cross' Station." It's so final, so brutal, Harry feels his magic wine as if someone is stepping on it. That gleam in the headmaster's eye is still there as he wishes them a good evening and disappears in huge amount of floo powder.
Karkaroff leaves a few seconds after even if it is his office. For a moment, Harry is petrified on the spot, weighing options. He could always run away, give up magic and hide in the muggle world. He could run to America, just like muggleborns in the first war, no one would find him there – he wasn't famous there. Professor Levski could come with him and find a normal job, Harry could go to a regular school, study math and other nonsense. They could hide until he turned seventeen and…
"It's my fault." Harry's head snaps so quickly, his neck cracks, again. His mentor is looking straight ahead, hand still firmly attached to his shoulder and face paler than usual. "I knew, but I thought that by the time someone realized you'd be old enough to tell them to go to hell."
"I can still tell them to go to hell." And he could do it with a broad smile, the kind that would make him look completely innocent. He's not, but he can pretend. "I'm sure Rayna has something that can actually make them go to hell. Viktor can help." He says it with so much confidence and he doesn't doubt for one second that both Rayna and Viktor would participate.
His mentor lets out a chocked laugh, that sounds more like a sob than anything else. He's taken good care of him over the past years, but he's not as influential as Albus Dumbledore. Harry thinks it would be fun to see the man and the whole Ministry of Magic try to wrestle him. The thirteen-year-old can be quite resourceful if needed.
"Tomorrow, we'll meet them at King's Cross station." There's a sense of finality to the words that push his moral down even more. Harry wants to fight, he really does. He can't imagine a school year starting here at Durmstrang with him not being there to watch Rayna cause mischief and Viktor blinking at whatever antics his girlfriend has conjured up.
But he won't be and that leaves a sour taste in his mouth, the kind that doesn't fade away. So, Harry turns to leave, shoulders slumped, sparing one last glance at the man who'd saved him many years ago and who looks so defeated right now, and finally exists the room.
Viktor and Rayna wait for him on the other side. He tries to be surprised, but he's not. Rayna's eyes are narrowed; he can almost see the wheels in her head spinning. She attacks him with a hug, crushing him into her. Even that doesn't make him feel better.
"We heard. We heard it all." She mumbles into his hair. And figures the one moment she'd be overtly affectionate with him would be now, when he can't even enjoy it. He feels Viktor's large palm rest on his shoulder, his whole-body tense.
He doesn't know exactly how long they stay like this. Harry wishes he could freeze time.
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There's three minutes left till midnight.
Rayna drags him out of his room, the party already in full mode as they arrive. Students are spread think in the yard, a massive fire in the center of it all. It's a symbol, didn't you know? People keep throwing alcohol in it to make it bigger and brighter, not like it will ever die out because of a spell.
His magic sings to him as he drinks more of his cup, a false calm taking over his body. Rayna isn't too far away, giggling with other fourth year girls. It'd never happen under normal circumstances, but she's drunk and light (and sometimes Harry thinks that she has deep issues, but can't really blame her because that would make him an hypocrite). Viktor, always the polite type, chats with other six years, eyes trailing between him and Rayna. He's that type, the silent, stoic kind.
A few feet away, he notices a few third years eying him and giggling. He wonders if one of them will step up, preferable the pretty brunette who he has potions with. He's always been fond of her, her appearance reminding him painfully of Rayna's and making out would certainly ease his mind.
It's settled – he can't do nothing about it. Sirius Black will pick him up from Kings Cross Station tomorrow whether he likes it or not. Nobody asks if Rayna and Viktor can tag along, Professor Levski even expected it. That's the way they are, really – so loyal Harry can't picture a world without them anymore.
His head snaps up as he hears Rayna call out his name. Viktor has returned dutifully to her side and she hangs on to him, too drunk to stand on her own. She motions for him to come over. Harry downs his cup, rolls his eyes and obeys.
He reaches them in second, Viktor ruffling his hair with brotherly affection which shows that he's not as immune to alcohol as he appears to be. He pulls his tongue at him, Rayna laughing as she refills his cup and slurs something that makes no sense. He watches the two interact. It hits him painfully, that this is the last time he'll be here, with them like this.
His eyes move away, the pretty brunette grinning at him.
It's twelve two.
His world starts to crumble and he can do nothing about it.
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Harry has never been a morning person. Even when the Dursleys shook him awake and he didn't have a choice, he still wasn't a morning person. By the time Viktor stands over his bed, Harry has come to the conclusion that if he never wakes up, then no one can take him away.
But the world doesn't work like that. He thinks it'd be easier just to use floo powder, but it's not like he complains about extra time bundled up between Rayna and Viktor on the train. Professor Levski is tight lipped and still trying to come up with a way to fix this. By the bags under his eyes and his tense shoulders – he hasn't.
And the guilt is eating him from the inside. He tries to keep his composure, but Harry has lived with the man long enough to figure it out. Rayna tries to not look to murderous and Viktor tries to pretend that he'll let him walk away with a stranger who spent years rotting away in a prison cell.
Harry just imagines slipping away, disappearing for a while. Would these people look for him? Try to find him at all cost? He knew Viktor and Rayna and Ivanov would – but would strangers really come looking for him and go to all that trouble?
He thinks that if Albus Dumbledore himself came to announce the news than yes, they probably would. Harry just can't figure out why it's so important that he attends Hogwarts, especially in his fourth year. Why now?
He doesn't even realize they've pulled up in the station, his mind still full of unanswered questions. He follows the three of them through swarms of people, some happy to be reunited with their families, others just hopping on a train with heartfelt goodbyes, a ticket in their hand.
Harry's eyes linger on the old clock, the hands displaying ten to three. The bunch stands out painfully from the lot of people, Harry quirks an eyebrow with mock interest. He has a while greeting comity, what where they afraid of? His magic courses through him so fast it makes his skin prickle. Even the purest part of him doesn't like any of this.
The tallest of the bunch, a man with unkempt hair keeps sending looks his way, as if seeing a ghost – Harry thinks this is probably not what he was expecting after all these years. But he isn't a starved little boy who lives in a cupboard, he hasn't been for years. Harry thinks that if he'd remained that way, itching for any type of warmth, then maybe this reunion would be more exciting. He isn't and now all he thinks about is that this person has just waltzed in to take him away from everything he knows and he hates it.
"Sirius Black, I presume?" It's not a question, but the man nods his head anyways. Harry wants to stay hidden away behind Rayna and Viktor. He's being exchanged, just like valuable goods that is meant to be transferred from one man to the next.
He faces Rayna and Viktor – it means goodbye. No words come out of his mouth and Rayna embraces him tightly, Viktor patting his head, still debating whether or not he'll let him go. Someone clears their throat, making Harry pull away and raising an eyebrow as if daring someone to do something about it.
Professor Levski stands next to him, reading to apparate. The man has a right to know where he'll live and Harry wouldn't have it any other way. The man gives him a few coordinates, disappears in a second. Harry hates apparating, his world dissolves and his mind becomes a blur, every piece of his body disintegrating only to reappear somewhere else.
Even after all these years, he hates it. He clings to Ivanov as he's propelled forward, Kings Cross Station becoming a blur, the last thing he sees Rayna clutching Viktor's arm.
A/N: Don't lynch me and please bear with me. I never gave up on this story, but as the years passed by and my writing style evolved, I just could let this remains the way it was. Heavy changes are coming and this needed a proper rewrite. To anyone still with me and reading this story for the tenth time or to the new comers, thank you so much for taking your time to review and constructive criticism is always welcomed. I hope you enjoy and till next time!