A/N: It's been a while since I wrote anything HP related. This is actually a translated version from my original W.I.P fic that is in Finnish, so I update as soon as I make new parts and get them translated. Lots of OC's and very little original characters from the series – hopefully you dont mind. Please R&R
Minerva McGonagall couldn't remember the last time she was so tired that she just wanted to ignore all her work and take a nap at her desk. The war had ended and the repairs of Hogwarts had been started, yet there was so much more to do. She had been unanimously selected to be the new headmaster, which was the reason she had spent the last two weeks in the headmaster's office. Every time it seemed like she had managed to write replies to every single letter she received, dozens of more appeared.
First there were letters sent by the parents of the students. Most of them were inquiries if their children could do-over some classes because of incompetent teaching (mostly regarding defense against the dark arts and muggle studies). Many had also missed several months of education, some even the entire semester due to fleeing from the death-eaters.
Then there were messages from the ministry and other important parties, which usually followed the same pattern – started with condolences and sympathy towards the victims of the war and ended with people congratulating her for her new job. Most of them also included promises of financial aid so that the school would get fixed as soon as possible and the students could start their term in time, the first of September.
Icing on the cake was the huge amount of job applications. The school needed someone who could take her place as the professor of transfiguration, a new teacher for the muggle-studies – finding suitable professors for said subjects would be easy enough, but the position for defense against the dark arts was still heavily avoided. They had promised to send someone from ministry, if no one else was available, but even if Minerva trusted the new minister, the unfortunate era of Dolores Umbridge was still fresh in her mind.
The most problematic case however was Hermione Granger. She sent owls nearly every day, insisting that she needed to finish her studies. After the war both Potter and Weasley got directly to the training to become aurors – Granger would have definitely gotten nearly any job even without finishing the school, but as a perfectionist she wanted a degree before going to work. As much as McGonagall appreciated Hermione's determination, it caused her lots of additional work.
The headmaster was about to write a reply to Hannah Abbott, who also had asked about re-doing certain subjects, when a falcon rushed inside from an open window. McGonagall bridled and was about to shoo it away, but changed her mind after she saw a scroll that was tied to its ankle.
Gyrfalcon... scroll... Skibotn?
McGonagall pushed aside her unfinished letter and reached to remove the parchment roll from falcon's leg. Her mouth curved to a tiny small when she saw the seal on the parchment. A large K was decorated with the images of a blackbird, brown bear, mute swan, deer and a gyrfalcon – the symbols of the magical institute of Skibotn.
She opened the scroll and removed the packaging spell from the parchment. The packet expanded and a flier started to multiply with a fast pace. McGonagall reached her wand and placed it on the desk in case something had gone terribly wrong with the multiplying-spell and it wouldn't end by itself. She grabbed the parchment with both hands and started to read.
Dear professor McGonagall
I was planning on contacting you way before, but I had no idea how to transfer my thoughts on paper, not to mention my other urgent tasks, which I believe you understand as a colleague of mine – hundreds of exams wont fix themselves.
I'd like to congratulate you for your promotion. I also want to show my sympathy due to all the tragedy you, your colleagues, students and rest of the staff has gone through...
McGonagall sighed. More condolences and slush – past was past and nothing changed it. Professor Lindholm was known for his uniqueness – obviously Minerva had expected something derogating from the man. The parchment was long, however, so she kept reading until she got to the part that was written with blueish ink instead of black one.
Here in Skibotn, we are well aware that some of your students were unable to complete their final exams because of the recent events, which is why we, here in the north, want to offer you some help and lessen your workload.
We are offering your students (ten people) a chance to finish their education right here in the Scandinavia's academy of magic – for free. We only accept students that are over sixteen years old. We also accept those who finished their school last year but have been unable to get a job or a spot on post-graduate studies.
Students don't need to buy new equipment – school will provide the needed books, cauldrons and other equipment. All they need is their wand. If you accept our offer, please send a reply with the names and other personal information of the chosen ones by August 25th.
Sincerely, headmaster Alexander Lindholm
PS. With this letter came a bunch of brochures, that we wish you to give those who might want join our program. They include additional information regarding exam dates, our subjects and other events.
McGonagall read the scroll through several times before turning her focus on the pile of flyers that had stopped multiplying. Skibotn was a school for Nordic witches and wizards and foreigners only had chance to participate their studies via corresponde courses. Her eyes drifted into the pile of letters send by miss Granger. Maybe the girl would like to finish her studies abroad? Who else might be interested?
After thinking a while McGonagall decided she would sent the letters to everyone who was about to start their last year in Hogwarts, those who had missed some classes on the previous semester and for those who had graduated recently. First ten to give positive responses would be chosen.
xxx
Draco Malfoy sat on a dark leather sofa, a bored expression on his face. His grey eyes drifted occasionally to his mother who sat on an armchair, face hidden behind a thick book with red cover. Draco had been sure that after he-who-must-not-be-named was defeated, his life would return to normal. He had been terribly wrong.
His father got continuosly into hearings, and as unlikely as prison dentence was, he would have to pay tremendous amounts of money to soothe his crimes. In addition, Lucius' position in the ministry had been reduced, which affected Malfoy's luxurious lifestyle. He still earned decent amount of money, but Draco still feared that all the suspicipusness would lead the situation where they would eventually become as poor as the Weasleys. The thought alone horrified Draco more than anyhting. Narcissa had already fired a few servants, feeling they could no longer pay them such amounts from work that was relatively easy to do with magic. Draco had to admit that the sight of her mother doing work that was for the low-lives was upsetting. Draco had even forced himself to help her, not wating his mother do all the work by herself. Not when she was suffering.
Malfoy's weren't that upseet about the fall of the Dark Lord. After the war Draco heard his mother had lied to the Lord regarding Potter's death. If Potter hadn't defeated him, Narcissa might be dead or she would have been severly punished. Draco had almost forgotten his dark mark and the missions he was forced against his will.
Only thing that had been upsetting was the death of Bellatrix. Althought aunt Bella had been crazy, she had always been kind to Draco (as kind as she could be) and she was very close with her sister. After the war Narcissa had spent most of her time organizing the funeral of her sister – almost everyone who had cared about Bellatrix was either locked up or dead, though, so in the end they only held a small-scale commemoration for her at their manor. Draco had seen her mother cry many times – Narcissa always said she just got something into her eye, but Draco knew she was mourning her sister.
"Draco, there is mail for you."
The young Malfoy turned towards the voice to see his exhausted father. He was holding a letter in his arms and even from afar Draco was able to spot a red seal of Hogwarts. In addition to his family's troubles he had thought about returning to Hogwarts, but gossips around his family had made him reconsider – he wasn't sure if he could handle all the mockery.
There was no one for him in Hogwarts anymore – Snape and Crabbe were dead, Goyle would not return to school and even if he did, he was no longer in friendly terms with him. Their friendship had ended because of Crabbe's death. Draco was certain that Goyle blamed him, even if he had never said it out loud. Then there were Blaise and Pansy – both had finished school and were desperately looking for work. No one admitted it, but finding job had gotten dificult for ex-slytherins. Draco, too, had had no luck – he didnt know anymore what to do with his life.
Draco took the letter from his father and opened it indifferently. What ever the new headmaster wanted to tell him, it didn't matter to him. He could not return to Hogwarts, not even if, according to his father, both Weasley and Potter would serve in ministry soon, not finishing their school. Just the though about Potter and Weasley becoming aurors, while he was unemployed loser made him sick. It could not happen! Draco decided to check the letter – after few lines he let out a relieved sigh.
"What does it say, Draco?" Narcissa had put down her book and stared curiously her son, forgetting to hide the dark circles under her eyes, which had led into several worried guestions from both Draco and Lucius.
Draco didn't reply. He didn't even hear his mother's question – the letter had gained all his attention. He allowed himself to smile a bit while he was studying the squiggly writing – words that gave him hope first time in a long time. He put the letter on a glasstable and grabbed a form and a notebook that came with the letter. The title said Magical institute of Skibotn, semester guide.
He had never heard of such school, but after he went through a few pages, he found the map that showed that the school located near the point where the borders of Sweden, Finland and Norway collided – far in the north. In the North, far from the troubles of UK and the people Draco couldn't even look in the eyes. He had to get there – maybe after a year or two people would no longer care about the war and Malfoys' part in it.
Draco's parents watched with confusion how the young man's mood had gone so high. They both rushed to grab the letter Draco had put on to the table. Narcissa was faster and Lucius didn't feel like ripping it from his wife's hands. He tried to get a look over her shoulder, but saw nothing due to the extremely small print, and decided to wait his own turn.
"You want to go here, Draco?" Narcissa asked after she finished reading the letter.
Draco nodded while studying the pamflet in his hands. He had reach the pages that told about the subjects you could study in Skibotn. He grimaced at the sight of subjects such as chemistry and religion that were clearly some muggle nonsence, but they were optional subjects recommended for those who'd work closely with muggles after their graduation. There were also subjects such as art and music, but what Draco found most important was the mention of the category that was useful but not available in Hogwarts – languages.
Here is Skibotn we value international relations and encourage our students to deepen their linguistic skills. Currently we offer fifteen different options from french to japanese and sami. In addition we have projects with our friendship schools of Haag magic university and Mágia witch academy. This allows volunteers to study hungarian, estonian and dutch via correspondence courses.
Draco didnt know if his family had any future in Britain. His family name was badly stained and he did not know if he could ever make a respected career there. Worst case scenario would be ending up to some filthy minimum wage muggle job. Magical school with possibility to learn languages sounded perfect. He could study basics to a language or two, get a job from abroad where the Malfoy name would not be mocked and move there. He wasn't know-it-all type like Granger, but definitely smart enough to find a place to settle down.
He'd have to be selected first, though. It was not certain he'd get a spot, but the letter said the fastest ones would be selected. He wasted no more time and hurried to pick a closest quill and started to fill the form. He probably should have asked his parents if it was okay for them, but he was eighteen years old, not to mention his father was the one to blame of all bad that they had been through. He didn't care his opinion For once he'd do his own decisions – this could be his only chance for a better future.
While Draco made sure to answer every single question as fast as he could, still keeping his handwriting majestic as ever, Narcissa was studying the notebook. Lucius had finally gotten his hands on the letter, pausing after every sentence to wonder if there was a catch in any of them.
"Draco...", Narcissa whispered with shaky voice, holding back the tears. She rarely saw her son so fired up, but when this was the case, there was no stopping him. She needed her son to need this, but she had just lost Bella and now her son had decided to go to another country, leaving her all alone.
"Mother, please don't...", if there was something Draco hated, it was wathing his mother cry. He had expected his father to make a number of his decire to leave, but for once he kept his mouth shut. Thankfully. Draco hurried to his mother and hugged her, hoping to calm her down. "It is just one year. And I might not even be selected", he added. It was possible that despite all the promises McGonagall would select people she liked best. No one could prove the order she had received the replies.
"Im sorry", Narcissa spoke, sounding less glum, even if her voice was still shaking. "It's just that I'm going to miss you." Draco was her only child and she'd do anything to make him happy, even give away all her fortune. As long as her baby didn't have to suffer, nothing else mattered.
"They said in the letter that there are some events that the parents can take part, too", Draco conforted. He wasn't sure if he wanted his parents to attend those (he didn't want peolpe to think he was a mama's boy), but if it made his mother feel better, he might actually tolerate possible embarrasment. At least Weasley and Potter would not be there mocking him...