NIFLHEIM ACADEMY

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Summary: "The Ministry must be seen to do something", and with that, Harry Potter's wand is snapped. Expelled in his second year, he is invited to a new school famous for being the home of one of the Eight Great Repositories of Knowledge. But with Voldemort alive and the Chamber of Secrets still open, he will need every resource his new school possesses to stay alive in the coming years.

Warnings: Slash, fem-slash, het, character death, Canon-mangling, torture, politics, a BUTTLOAD of Original Characters, Original magic, minor crossovers with: Abhorsen triology, Mahou Sensei Negima, Avatar the Last Airbender, One Piece, Fairy Tail, Shadow Hearts, and Monster Hunter.

I do not own Harry Potter, Abhorsen, Mahou Sensei Negima, Avatar, One Piece, Fairy Tail, Shadow Hearts, or Monster Hunter. I'm just playing with them.

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CHAPTER THREE

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What a depressingly dull little neighbourhood.

Artemis sniffed delicately as she stalked down the filthy pavement towards their new prospective student's home. She knew full damn well she was turning heads so hard that one or two possibly would suffer neck problems, and more than a few would have marriage problems, but that was hardly her concern. No, her only concern was the little boy on the second floor whose magic was rippling out to her like the broken surface of a puddle disturbed by a frightened tadpole. By nature, Veela were somewhat empathetic, combine that with the years of dedicated study into Mind Magics, Artemis had the best developed empath abilities that she had ever encountered outside of a Key, or a Noram – a natural born empath that was more spirit than human.

Outwardly, with its neatly maintained frost-bitten flowerbeds, damp and muddy lawn, and frost limed driveway, the house was just as common and plebeian as all of its neighbours. But to those who knew how to look... The paint upon the guttering gleamed as if new, the seals around the windows were still firm and springy, the door as handsome as it was when first installed, the roof tiles clean of lichen and moss. Magic had made itself home in this place, and protected it in what small ways it could. They were so weak, it was all they could do she realised in faint dismay and scornful disgust.

Protection Wards based around intent and anchored in a blood connection, with the strength of the wards dependent upon mutual intentions and emotionally charged feedback. She refrained from grimacing, but only just. A botched familial protection ward, improperly applied, and only half-executed, left to stagnate without being fully 'unwrapped' as it were.

That, more than anything, told her what kind of mess she was about to step into.

Mister Potter's homelife was not likely to be a pleasant one, and she was going to need a few moments to ensure her emotional control was up to the task of not doing anything that Catherine would be severely displeased with her over.

Under the guise of checking her purse, she delved into her mind magics and spent a few moments fortifying herself as she rummaged a folder out from her various papers and essentials, ignoring the stares and twitching curtains of the natives. She was probably the most interesting thing to have appeared in this neighbourhood in decades, she decided as she finally straightened up. Though all they could see was her long pale aqua coloured coat and smart heeled boots, underneath that she had opted for a smart skirt-suit, dark iron grey, with an ivory white blouse, black tights, boots, and a silver broach bearing the school's crest, a wand crossed with a familiar Dwarven made one-handed hammer. Her long hair neatly clipped back, and her face only bearing the faintest of make-up to cover her scales, she had made no other effort to hide her other-worldliness beyond a simple illusion over her ears to blunt their points to something less dramatic, and more easily passed over.

Marching up to the door, she pressed the bell and waited.

The woman who answered had a mess of ward-threads loosely knotted around her in such an unsightly tangle that it was almost offensive to the eye. Like someone's crochet supplies after half the alley-cat population had spent an afternoon playing with it.

"Mrs Dursley?" she asked, instead of commenting on the awful state of her home's protective wards.

The woman's face was sour, as if she had eaten a lemon, skin and all, staring at her, "Yes, may I help you?" she asked politely, eyes flicking up and down her form and finding herself coming up short by comparison. Not for the first time, Artemis mentally cursed her Veela blood, the aura that they possessed could not wholly be suppressed, and it caused difficulties in many social situations with those who had no mind magic abilities or training, non-magicals and those who had no skill in Occlumency, though young children before puberty were safe. Heterosexual women, unless very secure in their relationships, almost to a total became hostile and argumentative for the sake of being argumentative towards her, the same with some homosexual men though it was less frequent. So while her aura was an attractant to heterosexual men, and homosexual women, it was an aggressive repellent to others. With perhaps only those on the asexual and demi spectrum being immune to her mere presence.

"I am Deputy Headmistress Riveths, may I come in and speak with you and your husband?" she asked politely.

Reluctantly, the woman allowed her into the house. Artemis was mildly impressed, the young woman had been raised with impeccable manners to ignore the repelling effects of her aura to such a degree. She showed her where to hang her coat and escorted her to the living room before taking her preference for tea and vanishing into the kitchen to collect her husband and the needed acquaintances.

Vernon Dursley was... shockingly unhealthy to her eyes, especially when compared to her colleagues, especially Teacher Hyuga who taught Physical Defence, or Teacher Vali who taught History. And much more beholden to his baser instincts than his wife, with far less control. Mrs Dursley could do better, the Veela/Nymph decided frostily as the man fell under her sway without even needing to meet her eyes. His face became slack and overly interested in the way of all simpletons, while his eyes became much brighter and almost manic by comparison.

"Miss Riveths, I presume?" he asked, all charm and slime as he swaggered into the room, seemingly ignorant to how his waistline swung with his movements, his moustache quivering with his obvious interest.

"Laerer Riveths," she corrected him, getting to her feet and extending a hand to shake. She did not wish for him to know her personal name, instead, she gave him her title as Teacher in Norwegian, the national language of Svalbard. All students would be expected to learn it, but there were universal translation charms upon the school so that those multinational students needn't worry about communication difficulties until they had complete mastery of the school's native tongue.

"Laerer, lovely name," he praised, taking her hand and turning it over to kiss. She slipped it free before his lips even brushed her hand.

"My title," she corrected gently, "And please, such actions are not acceptable between a married man and a woman not his wife in my culture. I hope you understand," she lied soothingly as she retook her seat, crossing her ankles and leaning against the armchair's side.

"Of course, of course!" Vernon blustered amiably as he took a seat on the sofa, his disapproving and tight-lipped wife sitting next to him, a shade too close to be proper. Insecure with her husband acting in such a manner. She offered the woman the shadow of an apologetic look, and was somewhat gratified to see her at least a little mollified. "What can we do for you, Laerer? I am a national champion at Golf and have numerous boxing medals, if it is of interest?" he boasted, lying through his teeth and drawing looks of stunned confusion and disbelief from his wife.

Artemis smiled tightly, "As I informed your wife, I am Deputy Headmistress of a very select boarding school – "

"And you want our Dudley to attend, eh? Well he's at Smeltings right now, a fine school, I founded it myself!" the man continued, another outrageous boast falling from his lips, completely heedless to his wife's shocked call of his name.

Artemis frowned, she had been unaware of another magical child, she dove back into her handbag and began to rummage for papers. But no, there was no record of a Dudley upon the prospective students – not even amidst Catherine's adoptees. She frowned, then... they were completely unaware of the situation.

She hummed, eyes flicking towards the door where, yes now she could see him.

"Mister Potter? Could you please join us in the living room?" she called gently, watching him jump from the corner of his eye, yanking his hands away from the bannister bars as if burnt. He floundered from where he had been eavesdropping on the staircase before slowly uncurling himself and creeping down the stairs towards them. She smiled encouragingly at him as he edged his way into the room, looking nervous, his magic roiling with anxiousness and the faintest after taste of hope. "Come child, sit, it seems as though there has been a slight miscommunication," she explained as she gestured him into the other arm-chair.

Her eyes narrowed when she realised he very carefully skirted out of armsreach from his uncle as he made his way to it, but didn't yet sit, glancing worriedly at his Aunt who, with her expression pinched and now downright hostile, stiffly nodded her head the slightest of millimetres. The child gingerly sat upon the very edge of the seat and now alarms were screaming throughout the Deputy Headmistress's mind.

If the tangle of wards upon Petunia Dursley were a mess, they were nothing compared to the riot that ensnared her nephew.

She opened her empathy for all of a heartbeat, and wished she hadn't almost immediately.

Disgust, revulsion, bitterness, envy, jealousy, hurt, longing, nostalgia, love, hate – Petunia Dursley was a mess of conflicting emotions and pain in regards to her nephew.

Her husband held nothing but revulsion, fear, and loathing for the child sat to her side.

And the boy... her heart quivered within her chest. Wariness, hurt, sadness, confusion, anxiousness, hesitancy, hope, he was almost as tangled in his emotions as his aunt but not nearly so tormented by them.

The mess with the wards became only too clear with that small peek into their abysmal family dynamic. The protections were tied between Mister Potter and Mrs Dursley, the more Mrs Dursley was determined to protect her nephew, the stronger they would be. The wards were barely functioning and had not even fully connected. She had not taken her nephew in willingly, but she took him all the same. And the resentment that bred had not allowed the wards to completely anchor themselves, coupled with the love she felt being bitter and tainted with jealousy and hurt, they were not very strong. They would perhaps protect the house from water damage, premature aging, and interest from thieves or other people, allowing Accidental Magic to go without notice, but they would, in no way, prevent a wizard with nefarious intentions from gaining entry.

That was what the other wards were for. Attached to the failing protection ward, there were wards for invisibility, mail re-direction (if they had attempted to use any other method of communication beyond Messenger Sending, it would have been redirected to locations and persons unknown), and one of the strongest Notice-Me-Nots keyed towards anti-social behaviour that she had ever encountered in Europe outside of Dark Magic areas.

She reached for the cup of tea Mrs Dursley had provided her with and took a deep mouthful to steady herself.

Wards aside, she had a job. One that was now even more important than she had previously considered. Mister Potter had to attend Niflheim, for his own well being, and if not attend, then at least have his Guardianship signed over to Catherine, she would find him a fine school else where if that was his desire but he could not stay in this environment!

"Allow me to start from the top," she began, "I am Artemis Riveths, Deputy Headmistress of Niflheim Academy of Magical Practices," she announced, shrewdly watching Mrs Dursley. Her husband was thoroughly sedated under her aura and would do little more than smile dumbly and lie about his accomplishments in an effort to look good to her, it was a common enough problem that affected individuals without mental shields. The woman went white, then red with anger, her lips vanishing into a thin puckered line, but she seemed to know her limits and where the line was drawn. She didn't speak.

"Last week, we sent Mister Potter our customary invitation to a school Open Day as he had managed to reach the needed magical requirements to attend. He accepted and booked his visitation for today, however, the Headmistress and I were under the impression this was done with your knowledge and acceptance. I apologise for any undue alarm I may have caused you because of this. Rare is the student who takes responsibility for themselves in such a manner," she explained stiffly, icing her temper as she sipped the tea. That the child in question had not even considered speaking to his Guardians about such a decision spoke very poorly as to his circumstances, and his faith in authority figures.

"My Aunt and Uncle... they don't like magic, I didn't want to bother them," Harry justified quietly, fiddling with the fraying hem of what she had at first assumed was a favourite T-shirt given how ratty and worn out it was. Knowing the emotions behind the facade of this family though gave her a different idea as to just where the over-large red T-shirt may have come from, and in what state it reached the child next to her.

She hummed thoughtfully, "There are arrangements set aside for such cases, but I believe they are best discussed at a later time. Your Open Day appointment still stands, Mister Potter, if you are interested – "

"Yes! Yes I am! Please!" he interrupted, nearly jumping to his feet with desperation.

She chuckled and waved him down, "Calm child. And please, do not interrupt again. It is considered disrespectful and will earn you a detention should you decide to enrol. Now, I have your interest, undoubtedly. However, the permission of your Guardians is – "

"He shan't be going," Mrs Dursley interrupted sharply. "I'll not waste the money on his attending another freak school just to get thrown out! Or have that crack pot old fool come knocking on our door, threatening my Dudders, to demand I take him back in!" she flared, her voice breaking in her anger.

Harry wilted where he was sat, and Artemis drew herself up. "We have provisions for Scholarship loans, you needn't spend a penny, Mrs Dursley. The debts accrued will be the responsibility of Mister Potter, he will either earn student credit to lessen it, or upon reaching a place of employment with a certain pay-bracket begin to pay off his debt in small increments. Much like your Student Finance Loans for university students," she explained primly with narrowed eyes, "And I have no idea whom this 'crack pot old fool' is, but there are steps that can be taken with our legal department to ensure you receive no harassment from those searching for Mister Potter," she promised.

"You'll be able to get rid of me for the year as well, it's a boarding school as well," Mister Potter suddenly pointed out before glancing at her nervously, "And it's in another country too, so... um... I'll be even further away?" he offered, seemingly confused about how to further encourage his Aunt into letting him go.

She took a deep breath and got to her feet, "Would you and your husband like to join us on the tour of our facilities? We will ultimately speak with the Headmistress about Harry's circumstances under your roof, you can certainly bring any issues, questions, or grievances up with her and we will do our best to rectify them," she offered, delicately brushing lint from her skirt.

Petunia was a hair away from refusing, practically swelling in her seat with fury.

"Why not? Sounds like an adventure!" Vernon suddenly exclaimed, climbing to his feet, completely ignorant to the look of utter betrayal on his wife's face. "Why, the last time I went down the Nile River I wrestled crocodiles, they didn't call me the next Steve Irwin for nothing!" he bragged.

Artemis ignored him, "Mister Potter, I do not want you to be under the impression that Niflheim is your only option, there are a great many magical schools the world over. Should you not find Niflheim to your liking, then contacting one of them is well within your rights. Please bare that in mind."

He nodded gingerly, looking uncertain, "Yes ma'am."

She nodded and withdrew a long length of cord from her purse, "The weather in Svalbard at the moment is in the minus twenty range, I would recommend digging out some winter clothing. I will give you a talisman to combat the worst of the cold, but it does work best with something to base itself on," she explained and watched as Vernon Dursley cheerily ushered his wife into the hallway and up the stairs to gather the needed clothing, Mister Potter following quickly behind to his own bedroom where he proceeded to bang around for a while.

Artemis sighed deeply and finished off her tea. This was even more of a mess than she thought it would be.

Their youngest student, and currently their most complicated problem. She sincerely hoped Catherine was having better luck getting hold of his records and the reason for his expulsion out of Hogwarts.

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"You allowed him to face down a Cerberus at eleven?!"

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Harry was trying very hard not to jitter himself into dropping the apparently magical cord Miss Riveths gave him. Sorry, Laerer Riveths. She had explained when he came stumbling down the stairs in both of his Weasley sweaters, old school robe thrown over them, and his winter cloak, that the school predominantly spoke Norwegian, as that was the national language of the country the school was based, even though they perhaps only had two students from said country attending, it was respect to the land and a very minor magic in of itself. Never the less, she had requested that he show herself and her colleagues the appropriate respect by addressing them with the title Laerer, which meant Teacher. Even though he wasn't a student yet, they were still masters of their craft and educators who had worked long and hard to gain their positions. He guessed he now knew why Headmaster Dumbledore was constantly correcting him to call Snape 'Professor Snape'.

He had already made his decision to attend the school from what he'd read in the leaflets and the way Laerer Riveths handled the Dursleys, he was determined to, he liked the Deputy Headmistress and what he'd read of the school. He had always been more independent than other kids his age, and it was highlighted in the prospectus that students were assigned a Mentor, an older student, and would largely be left to their own devices and should there be any issues, their Mentor would bring it to the teacher's attention to be handled. Plus, Laerer Riveths had mentioned that she could even arrange it so that he never had to return, or at least that was the gist he was getting from the conversation between the grown-ups earlier. What confused him though was Headmaster Dumbledore threatening Dudley, according to Aunt Petuna. Harry didn't think he would do that, so he assumed it was her overreacting, but... she wasn't one to make things up out of the blue, exaggerate and twist a tiny thing she'd heard, making mountains out of mole-hills, but rarely made anything up herself. She didn't approve of imagination. Had the Headmaster said something that she'd taken the wrong way? She did that quite often.

Aunt Petunia looked pinched and furious as she gingerly accepted the long red cord, wrapped in her finest winter coat, with a thick silky white cashmere sweater underneath, she had pulled a thick fluffy white hat on and her fine white leather gloves on. Vernon was straining at the zip of his american style sheep-wool lined bomber-jacket, wearing sturdy blue jeans and brown work boots that he sometimes pulled on when visiting various worksites to make sure his drills were doing their jobs right. All three of them were wearing a small strip of paper with red runes painted onto them pinned to their left breast, apparently these were the warming talismen.

"This is a Portkey, a method of magical transportation," Riveths explained as she shared part of the cord with Uncle Vernon, "It will feel somewhat unpleasant. We have made improvements on the enchantments compared to the old methods but there is still some residual discomfort. It will feel as if someone has grabbed you by the hip and suddenly pulled you to one side. I would advise tensing your neck and back muscles and closing your eyes, the spinning can be disorientating for first timers. Also, spread your legs and bend your knees as if jumping down from somewhere. This should help you avoid falling over when we land," the teacher explained, her voice adopting an almost lyrical lecturing tone as her features became significantly less animated, but much more relaxed.

Hesitantly the group did as they were told, Petunia having to adjust her grip at the Veela's suggestion before she laid a free hand on top of the cord, the small silver ring and red gem on her middle finger lighting up as she said a word he didn't understand.

Suddenly it felt much like she described it would. Only harsher. Like someone had swung a rubber band against his hip, it picked him up forcefully and hurled him away, pushing him the whole distance before suddenly the ground slammed under his feet, making him stumble and his knees buckle a moment.

But he didn't fall. And the rubber band around his hip was gone.

Then the cold hit him, and he shuddered violently, pulling his cloak around him. Even with the little talisman the temperature was bitter. He peeked his eyes open and stared around him in confusion. Where was the school? They had appeared in a small sheltered alcove under an overhanging cliff, all around them was ice and snow, distantly to Harry's left he could see the ocean filled with ice drifting lazily in the strange grey-blue gloom.

A cold wet nose nudged his hand and Harry squawked in surprise, jerking around and coming eye to eye with a monstrously huge Husky. Vibrant blue eyes, black and white patterned thick fluffy fur, and enough muscle to make Fang look weedy, the animal gave him a doggy grin, tongue lolling to one side happily as it tilted his head at him. Harry smiled a little nervously, it was the size of a horse! He'd never seen a dog so big before.

"G-good dog?" he greeted nervously, edging backwards. The animal huffed in amusement before licking his face, tongue plastering flat to his chin and dragging upwards over his mouth, half his nose, and one of his eyes. Harry groaned in pre-teen disgust before he suddenly found himself being licked again and again in rapid fire, suddenly he was nudged over and fell in the snow, smothered in enthusiastic doggy affection – which involved a lot of licking, and cold noses in unwanted places. Distantly he could hear Riveths talking to the Dursleys as he tried to wrestle himself away from the massive dog who was determined to either drown him in saliva or lick his face off.

"At this time of year, we don't get much in the way of sunlight. Likely as not, we will see the sunrise for a few minutes at the horizon when we reach the school before setting again," Laerer Riveths explained as she collected a fur lined coat from a very large sled that had four seats set one behind the other, and had about six other massive dogs reigned to it. The leader of whom was now currently assaulting their newest student prospective.

She smiled a little, "It seems as though Aragorn has taken a liking to you," she observed as Harry finally managed to shove the dog's face away.

He grimaced and wiped at his mouth and nose, "A-Aragorn?" he echoed doubtfully before the dog was suddenly pawing him over onto his stomach.

"He wants you to get up. Laying in the snow like that is bad for little humans. And yes, Laerer Matteson your Care of Magical Creatures teacher, is a very big fan of Mister Tolkien's works. Any animal in the school that she has bought or raised will have a Tolkien inspired name. Niflheim dogs are specifically bred and raised magically to be stronger, faster, more intelligent than their regular husky cousins, it is needed as the Wards around the Repository will not allow magical travel into the grounds. The rest of our journey must be taken via sled, and strong animals are needed. That Aragorn has taken such a liking towards you says well about your character," she praised as the animal bounded to her side and whined for attention. Smiling she bent down and started fussing him.

Harry climbed to his feet, his front caked in powdered snow that he tried to brush off without much effort, a little pink cheeked with embarrassment instead of cold.

Artemis straightened and flicked her hand at him, banishing the snow from his front and then gestured to the sled, "Everyone in. Mister Dursley at the back, Mrs Dursley in the middle, and Mister Potter in the front please, that way we shouldn't plough into any snow-drifts and become stuck," she explained as she ushered the three of them into position, Aragorn bounding to the front of the other dogs and ducking into his harness, and wiggling through the snow until he got his paws into the right position and then got up while leaning forward, the leather straps sliding neatly into place. The dog behind him trotted forward and pulled on one strap which tightened the whole thing up and Aragorn shook himself before huffing happily.

"I-I don't think - " Petunia began nervously.

"Don't worry Pet, I was a champion dog-sledder in my day! You'll be fine!" Vernon boasted as he heaved himself into the back-seat of the sled, obviously very pleased that he would be closer to Laerer Riveths. Petunia's face pinched as she gave the beautiful woman a look of deepest loathing before following her husband, refusing to let him be alone with the harlot. Harry quickly scrambled into place in front of them, barely able to contain his excitement, he was still shivering a little from cold but it wasn't so bad.

At least he was, until Riveths suddenly dropped a huge furry blanket over him, and tucked him in tightly to the sled, "The trip will be just over an hour, and you're so small, it wouldn't do to have one of our prospective students freeze before he even arrives, or his family," she added, giving Petunia and Vernon similar fur blankets.

As soon as the woman was stood at the back of the sled, she gave the reigns a little flick and called out a word, it definitely wasn't 'Mush', Harry couldn't begin to pronounce it so he assumed it must have been Norwegian. But either way the dogs suddenly threw their weight forward, heads down, shoulders forward and straining.

Slowly the sled began to slide forward on the snow, and the dogs took one laborious step forward, two, three, "You can do it," Harry whispered encouragingly, as the animals panted and grunted as slowly they slid faster, and the dogs moved into a slow trot that gradually became a run.

Harry whooped as the animals finally started running, harnesses jingling as the sled got up to speed. Aragorn barked back at him happily, several of the other dogs joining him happily as they surged on through the snow back home.

He couldn't wait.

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Okay, I wanted to put the school in this chapter, but Artemis is very thorough, she notices a lot. So I wanted to cover her a bit more in depth. Then puppies happened and before I knew it the page count was at five (my typical Chapter length) and I figured here was a good place to stop. I try not to make my chapters too long because then they're a bit of a labour to chew through, and sometimes people don't have a lot of time. So, a nice medium length chapter, something to get your teeth into, but won't take half an hour to read. XDDD