Hmm, it occcured to me that some of you might be wondering about Durmstrang being an all-boys school. Well, it's only portrayed like that in the movies. In the book, Durmstrang is co-ed, as is Beauxbatons. So, I think it'd be more interesting that way, hence I'll have it as a co-ed school. Links to drawings of Durmstrang uniforms available on my profile.
Since I've been getting questions about pairings, allow me to just say that romance, if any, won't start till fourth year. I'm not to sure when the usual age is for such things, but since in canon, Harry started to notice Cho around fourth-year, so I'll keep the age where he first start noticing girls as that. And I have to say, the main focus will not be on romance. I'm pretty inexperienced about writing such things, so it'd be at most, a sub-plot. But there will be an eventual pairing that will go with the story flow.
Chapter Ten: Durmstrang Year One Part I
Soon enough, a bell chime signaled the arrival of the ship at Durmstrang. Pulling himself from the tiny window that the cabin boasted, where Harry had spent the last hour observing first the underwater life, and later the mountain scenery of Durmstrang, Harry draped his black fur cloak over his shoulders. No longer thin and malnourished like he had been at the Dursleys, Harry was nevertheless still relatively short at just barely shy of five feet, though he had filled out some. In fact, Daphne was slightly taller than him, a fact which he could not help but feel annoyed at.
However, when they had exited the ship and gotten their first look at the castle just in front of the lake, Harry soon forgot his irritation. The castle was…breath-taking. Huge and sprawling, the main wing consisted of four stories, while the two towers that Harry could see both had seven floors. Dark granite formed the exterior of the castle, and the roof were tiled with black. Situated in the middle of the valley, the castle was framed on both sides by forests, thick and dark. All in all, it gave off a slightly forbidding, and dark aura.
Together with Daphne and the other first years, Harry followed the prefect, one Xavier Deverill, into the school. As he walked, he heard some of the other first-years around him chattering excitedly.
"…start school at last, so excited!" A pert-faced brunette giggled to her friend.
"Wonder when we'll get our timetable…" a cherub-faced boy with long auburn hair pullled back into a bouncy ponytail walking beside Harry murmured softly to his companion, who merely shrugged in reply.
"…which Group I should join…" A tall bespectacled boy wrung his hands anxiously as another, a swarthy, and rather large boy clapped him heartily on the shoulder. "You can join the group I plan to create, Calvin!" Harry snorted mentally, instantly taking a dislike to the latter. Even if you had such plans, an intelligent person would not shout it out to the world until he had indeed done so.
At Durmstrang, there were no Houses. Rather, students in the school had to either join or create an existing Group, which could consist of any number of students equal to or more than seven. Students could win or lose points for their Groups, depending on their performance in school, and the Group with the most points at the end of the year would win the title of "Champion of Groups", and along with the title, prestige and respect. Because so much depended on the size of the Group and the quality of the students, Group leaders had absolute discretion as to who to allow into their Groups; even the professors could not intervene. On one hand, a larger number of students meant more opportunities to gain points, but it also meant a higher risk of losing points. Hence, most Groups were around the size of fifteen to twenty people, according to Aleron. He had also said that there were ten Groups last year, with most Groups oriented along the lines of age. In a way, Harry supposed that made sense. No doubt the older students would want nothing to do with babysitting the younger…though Harry planned to change that.
Coming out from his musings, he noted that the auburn-haired boy had been eyeing him with a speculative gleam in his eyes. Wondering if his thoughts had shown on his face, Harry offered his hand to the boy with a charming politeness. "Harrison Maximus Riddle." The other boy took his hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you, I'm Emlen Zedar. This is my cousin Francis Sylvanus." He indicated his companion, who had gravity-defying chestnut coloured hair and a surly expression on his roundish face. "Don't mind him, he's just disappointed that his parents chose to send him to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts." The last was said in a conspirational whisper, which caused Sylvanus' scowl to deepen. However, Harry merely nodded politely and introduced Daphne to the two boys. "My friend, Daphne Greengrass." After the rounds of polite introduction, all fell back into an easy silence as they followed the prefect through the long and windy corridors. Harry used the time to observe his fellow first-years, taking note in particular of those who were not chattering away at lightning speed.
Soon enough, they had entered the Great Hall, a tall-ceilinged room lit with crystal chandeliers with a white marble floor (the nicest room in the whole school, according to Aleron). With eleven marble tables of varying sizes in the hall, Deverill indicated that the first years should all sit at the largest long table of them all. Harry assumed that the students usually sat in their Groups, an assumption which proved correct when the Highmaster, Igor Karkaroff, a man with cold eyes and a pointy beard which curled at the tip, got up and addressed the students.
"Welcome, first-years, to Durmstrang Institute and a warm welcome back to our older students. This year, the Head Boy and Head Girl shall be Aries Zedar and Magnolia Fleetwood. Congratulations, Zedar and Fleetwood." Two students from the largest table in the middle of the hall stood up and bowed, allowing Harry to identify that table as the Group Blood Ravens' table. Aleron had revealed that with forty members comprising of most of the sixth and seventh year students, it was the largest Group at Durmstrang, and had usually won the championship, considering that each year end, they recruited only the best of the fifth years to the Group as the existing seventh years prepared for graduation.
Thereafter, as Karkaroff gave his speech, Harry continued observing his fellow year-mates. Emlen Zedar had scowled slightly as Aries was introduced. The resemblance between them led Harry to conclude that the two were probably brothers who had a possible sibling rivalry, though Harry privately thought that it was more of jealousy due to their large age gap.
Next to Harry, a blonde curly-haired boy with a pointed face and a slight frame leaned back in his seat and yawned openly at the Highmaster's speech. Harry glanced at him with slight amusement, even as one ear was kept peeled for any important announcements Karkaroff might make. The boy caught his eyes unabashedly, as if daring Harry to comment. Harry merely raised an eyebrow. While Karkaroff's speech was dead boring, it would have been a huge social gaffe to show any signs of his disinterest openly. "Hullo. My name's Korbin. Korbin Blishwick."
At that moment, Karkaroff ended his speech. Harry clapped politely with the rest before turning to Korbin with a polite, "A pleasure, Blishwick. Harrison Riddle." Korbin took Harry's hand and shook it briefly, before laughing. "I'm sure you have a bad impression of me already; you seem to be the straight-laced pureblood type. Whereas I, on the other hand…" he waved a hand self-depreciatingly. "I don't much care for proper social etiquette."
Harry's smile appeared deeply mysterious to Korbin. "Appearances, Blishwick, can be deceiving. But it has to be kept up." As Harry left a slightly intrigued Korbin to puzzle out his words, he turned to his meal, though not before noticing a small gleam in the eyes of the boy seated opposite him; a dark-haired boy with a triangular face and a large frame, who had, Harry noticed, been rather quiet so far.
"Words of wisdom, Riddle. I applaud you for that." The boy inclined his head slightly, with that gleam in his eyes again; a gleam that Harry recognized as suppressed curiousity. Harry nodded politely at the compliment, waiting for the boy to continue. "Alexei Janus Krum. Please call me Alexei, Krum reminds me too much of my father and brother."
Krum, huh. Harry remembered that Silas had constantly referred to a Viktor Krum while telling Harry about Quidditch at his school, a genius of a player was supposedly the best Seeker in school. Could that be the brother this Alexei was talking about? Harry made a mental note to ask around discretely.
"Of course, Alexei. In that case, you may call me Harrison." Harry's smile was perfectly charming. His goal, after all, was to make friends. He watched as Daphne chatted away excitedly to two girls seated near her, before turning an assessing gaze onto the loud-mouthed boy he had taken an instant dislike to. The boy had already gathered his own small gang around him, Harry noted, though he wondered how many of them were just too weak-willed to resist his forceful advances. Well, I'll just have to do better than him then…
After dinner, Deverill came round again to hand out timetables. Harry noted with satisfaction that he would be taking the core classes of Charms, Transfiguration, Dark Arts, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy alongside the third years. It made sense since he was already far enough in his studies, rather than for him to start from the very basics like the other first-years. It was an advantage, really, to have the Highmaster working for one's father…Although Harry was still taking classes with the other first years in Astronomy, Herbology, European History of Magic, and Potions, subjects which the Dark Lord had not deemed important enough for Harry to learn in advance. Unfortunately, Durmstrang did not offer British History of Magic.
Then, they were led to their dormitory rooms, which was hidden behind a portrait of a sallow-faced wizard, whom Deverell informed them was Grigoriy Durathor, one of the founders of the school. "The password's blood-red. All of you first-years will be sharing a common room for the first month, after which you'd have found a Group. The door of your dormitory rooms will then be magically linked to your Group's common room."
Leading them through the door hidden behind the portrait, Deverell pointed to two stair-cases leading up from the rather drafty, stone-floored and walled common room, with a few uncomfortable-looking chairs here and there. "The staircase on the right leads to the girls dormitories, the other one to the boys. Roughly five to a room, you may choose your own roommates." With that, he turned and left the common room, leaving the first years to their own devices. Harry swiftly calculated; there were fourteen boys in his year, which meant that one room could have only four boys but while Harry valued privacy, he knew the value of making friends more…
Turning to the boys he called out in a slightly raised voice, "Zedar, Sylvanus, Blishwick and Alexei, would you like to share a dorm room with me?" It was a calculated risk he took here, Harry knew. If any of them rejected his offer, he would have been seen as presumptuous and his standing would fall. On the other hand, if they accepted…
"Why not? Come on, Francis, let's meet our new roommates." Emlen smiled before dragging his still-moping cousin over. Korbin's reaction was even more dramatic. "Of course I'd love to! I thought you'd never ask," he battled his eyelashes at Harry slyly, before heading over to Harry's side. Alexei's response, thankfully, was more toned-down. "Thank you, Harrison. I accept."
And there it was, acknowledgement from his other year-mates for his taking charge. And the narrowed-eye stare from the swarthy boy was perhaps the best testimony of his first foray into establishing his presence; for the boy was no fool, he recognized a bid for leadership when he saw one. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Daphne," Harry smiled at his friend, confident that with her vivacious personality, she'd find roommates quickly. Daphne returned a brilliant grin, before turning to the two brunettes whom she had been talking to all dinner, even as Harry led the way to his dorm room.
Opening the door, he saw that there were five handsome four-poster beds arranged in the large room facing each other's general direction in two rows, three on one side and two on the other, with a rather wide passage in between the two rows. At the far wall, there was a huge panel of windows, which opened up to a beautiful view of the lake. Harry strolled over the bed nearest the window, which belonged to the one in the row of three. "I'll be taking this bed then, if no one minds," he announced to his newfound friends, certain that no one would object. Sure enough, all of them shook their heads before choosing their own. Emlen took the one next to Harry, Alexei took the one diagonally across from Harry's and was the second nearest to the windows, Francis took the one besides Emlen's, the closest to the door, while Korbin took the last bed, the one facing Emlen's and Francis', next to Alexei's.
Unshrinking his trunk, Harry settled down to unpacking the necessities before he turned in for the night.
The next morning, Harry trooped down to the Great Hall with his roommates, watching with amusement as Emlen teased Francis about his bed hair. And quite bad it was too, tangled and still standing tall. Francis had apparently recovered from his sulk of the previous night, for he had retorted, "At least I have no history of baldness in my family, which means I'll still have hair when all of yours has dropped out." Emlen just laughed it off.
"And Harrison's just as messy." Francis had added, almost as an afterthought. It was true, Harry thought. His jet-black hair often refused to lie flat, sticking out all over the place. Taking out his wand, Harry cast a simple charm on his hair to make it look stylishly and artistically messy instead. Francis' eyes had widened upon seeing the effect, "Wicked." He breathed. "Hey Harrison, mind teaching me that spell?" Harry shrugged and smiled easily. "Why not? Tonight then, before we turn in."
After meeting up with Daphne for breakfast, the six trooped off to Herbology, which was taught by a very tanned Professor Dmitriy Belinsky, who spoke with a heavily accented English. Harry found the entire subject rather boring, though he supposed the plants looked interesting enough. "I've never liked gardening." He told Korbin and Alexei, whom he had been partnered with. Korbin laughed loudly and even Alexei's eyes shone with brief amusement.
"What's the matter, Riddle? Afraid to get your filthy half-blood hands even dirtier?" The sneering voice of one Brutus Gauis Flint, the loud-mouth swarthy boy of last night, who was working at the table next to Harry, cut in. Harry sighed mentally. He had known it would come up; Riddle was, after all, not a pure-blood surname. Thank Merlin no one could accuse him of being a Mudblood, Durmstrang just did not let those kind in, after all.
"Well, in that case, to prevent even more filth from attaching itself to me, I'd rather not speak to you, Flint. That troll blood might be infectious, after all…" Harry sneered back contemptuously. It was an open secret that some generations ago, the Flint line had been polluted with that of a troll, much to their eternal shame. While the mixing of some creature blood was generally accepted as one of the draw-backs of a pureblood line, intermingling with one with a reputation like a troll, however, was not encouraged.
Flint's face turned an ugly shade of puce. "Why you…" Before he could do anything else however, the large and muscular Professor Belinsky was already by his table, "Now now, boys, hurry up with the repotting, the bell's going to ring soon." Flint turned a murderous glare at the teacher, however, Harry merely smiled and replied politely, "Of course, sir. My apologies." Never alienate the teachers…Harry mentally snickered at Flint's undiplomatic approach.
After lunch, Harry's yearmates trooped off to their Dark Arts lesson while Harry went to the library to complete the Herbology essay that Belinsky had assigned. When the bell finally rang for tea, Harry had long since finished the essay (List and explain five methods to deal with a Devil's Snare. Determine which is the best method.) and had moved on to reading from one of the books on intermediate Dark Arts that Harry had found in the library. Overriding the non-copying charm on the book with a dark spell that his father had taught him, Harry spelled himself a copy of the book which he shrunk and hid in his pockets before heading for tea.
Hearing his roommates chat excitedly about their first Dark Arts lessons, Harry was practically pounced upon by Daphne, "You've got to tutor us in this subject, Harrison!" Harry had smirked, amused, when the other boys had found out the reason behind his absence in the Dark Arts class. "How did you manage to get into the third-year classes?" Emlen had whispered in awed tones. Harry had shrugged casually, "My aunt has tutored me in the subject for a couple of years." And my father is the Dark Lord, he mentally added. Whom the Highmaster is working for.
His first Dark Arts class was interesting enough. Harry had been afraid that he would not have found it stimulating enough, considering that he had spent three years under the tutelage of Bellatrix Lestrange. He soon found out however, that Bellatrix, as unlikely as it seemed, had tried to keep things age-appropriate, teaching him mostly jinxes and hexes, with only a few minor curses.
Professor Edgar Rosier, whom Harry knew was a cousin of Evan Rosier, however, saw no need to hold back with a class of third-years (mostly). "Confringo!" He demonstrated the Blasting curse on a conjured up dummy, exploding it into many, many tiny pieces, before giving a lecture on the properties of the curse and how to cast it. "Pronunciation and the wand movement is the key.
Frowning slightly, Harry raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Riddle?" "Professor," Harry begun respectfully, "Would not intent and concentration matter much more?" Rosier eyed his new student in surprise for a few moments, before nodding. "You are correct, Mr. Riddle. At your level, pronunciation and the wand movement is quite important. However, as you become more accomplished with the spell, you'll learn that intent and concentration will determine the power of your curse. Very insightful, Mr. Riddle, take fifteen points to your future group."
Thereafter, he split the class into five groups, most probably according to Groups, setting them to practice the curse with five different dummies. Harry was placed into Aleron's and Silas' group, together with a scowling blue-haired female, a smiling red-haired female and a rather tanned male. "Harrison, this is Ivan Vavilov, leader of the Bats of the Dark, also known as Black Bats, our Group. And this is Ekaterina Durov and Steffi Stockmann, also members of our Group." Harry greeted them all courteously with impeccable manners, noting that they all had the symbol of a black-coloured bat spelled above the Durmstrang crest on their school robes, as well as embossed on the buckles of their belt.
He watched as all five of them took turns to cast the spell. Aleron had the most success; smoke issued from the dummy as small bits broke from it and it flew backwards to land on the floor, but it was still mostly whole. Then, it was Harry's turn. He gave red-haired Steffi a smile when she so kindly mended the dummy before his turn and set it straight again. Picturing the dummy breaking into pieces with a salvage glee, Harry waved his wand and pointed it at the dummy, pouring his will into his words, "Confringo."
With a small explosion, the dummy was blasted into many different pieces, though not as many as Rosier's had been. Harry hastily erected a solid shield to protect himself and his group from the falling pieces, as Professor Rosier called out, "Good job, Mr. Riddle. Take fifteen points." By the time the class had ended, Harry had forty-five points to contribute to his future Group and most of his classmates were eyeing him with speculative glances.
By the end of the first three weeks, word had spread that Harry was a prodigy. As a result, he had received offers of membership from many groups, even the Blood Ravens' closest rivals, the Jade Talons. Harry had declined all such offers politely, stating that he was not ready to decide – as a result, most Groups had assumed that he was forming his own Group, with his fellow year-mates, thus dismissing him as of no threat to them.
Indeed, Harry had quietly formed connections with his year-mates, except for those in Flint's little gang: Nero Clagg, Calvin Delaney, Amelia Bottlewick and Matthew Jewkes. He helped them out in their studies and generally maintained cordial relationships with them, though of course, he was closest to Daphne and his room-mates, with whom he often spent most of his free time.
One night, he gathered them all together in the dormitory room, even Daphne. "I'm going to open negotiations with the Black Bats' leader tomorrow." He told them quietly. All of them stared at Harry, surprised. "You're going to join their Group? Whatever possessed you to decide that?" Korbin asked Harry in disbelief. Emlen cocked his head slightly. "Yeah, Harrison, he has a point. They're merely ranked seventh after all, and with your talents, I'm sure many other higher-ranked Groups will welcome you with open arms."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "And how many talents are there in those higher-ranked Groups?" When none replied, Harry continued, "Many. At least a couple per Group, a handful in the highest-ranking ones. There would be no opportunity to shine in those Groups. Whereas for the Black Bats…their leader is only of an above-average caliber. He is friendly, true, which accounts for the number of year-mates following him, and even five of the second-years. But he has no true power, no charisma. The only others of worth in the gang are Ekaterina Durov, Aleron Mulciber and Silas Macnair. The latter two will not be a problem; the Group is essentially ripe for a take-over, especially if I bring you all with me. Which brings me to the question: are you all willing to join me?"
Uncharacteriscally, Alexei was the first to speak, "You have convinced me, Harrison. I will follow you." Privately, Harry thought it was because Alexei wanted a Group without any link to his brother Vicktor, who was in the Maroon Wings, and so far, the only high-ranking group willing to take him in. Emlen and Francis exchanged glances, then Emlen grinned. "Why not? We're in. Even if you are a half-blood, you're better than Flint." Korbin shrugged and said with a lazy grin, "With you around, things will always be interesting. I'm with you." Daphne smiled at Harry, "Remember what I said on the train?" She tapped her wristband meaningfully. Satisfied, Harry dismissed his friends.
The next day, Harry purposely joined Ivan and Ekaterina during Charms, despite his usual partners being Aleron and Silas. "I want to speak to you alone, Vavilov. Tonight, in the Black Bats common room." Ivan glanced at Harry thoughtfully before agreeing. Satisfied, Harry cast the Summoning Charm on the wooden block they were supposed to summon from the teacher's table and watched as it lazily drifted towards him. "Oh, bravo, Mr. Riddle! Take fifteen points for being the first to successfully cast the charm!" Professor Victoria Eastwood cried, with a small wink at Harry. Harry smiled in amusement, knowing that she had a soft spot for cute little boys, which he supposed he currently was.
By now, Harry had accumulated three hundred points to contribute to whatever group he joined. It would have been more, but the Transfiguration teacher, Frederick Flint, was a relative of Brutus Flint and had taken a strong dislike to Harry as well (apparently, he had been told of the insult to the Flint's family), and kept taking points off from Harry for the slightest of one lesson, when Harry had been the first to successfully transfigure his bar of soap into a toad, which had subsequently croaked really loudly, the Transfiguration professor had snarled, "Riddle! Ten points for disrupting lessons." Harry had blinked before replying coolly, "It won't happen again, sir."
When Aleron had tried to stand up for Harry, Harry had calmly told him to shut up. "You can't expect the world to be a fair place, Aleron. Since he likes taking points from me, I'd just have to earn even more." He made sure to keep his cool and to show the proper respect and deference to Professor Flint, even if he sometimes felt like wiping the smirk off the professor's face with a cunningly cast expression-changing hex. But no, Harry had to control himself. For that was what his father had told him; self-control is the key to controlling others.
Harry vowed that before his stint at Durmstrang was up, he would be the one pulling the strings of one Frederick Flint.
I'm going to speed up the story, so hopefully, Harry growing into his powers at Durmstrang won't take more than ten chapters or so. Unless er, you all feel like reading more about his education at Durmstrang?