Sorry for the long wait! I'm afraid I didn't touch fanfiction at all during my summer holidays; I chose instead to catch up on all the movies and television series I really wanted to watch. Now I have to consider whether or not to continue with this story, since I realized my workload for this semester is really heavy!
Anyway, enough about me, on with the story:)
Descriptions of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang's arrival are taken straight from the book – I'm not too good at them, so why waste J.K. Rowling's beautifully written ones?
Chapter Twenty-Five: Hogwarts Year Five - Arrival
Full moon. Dark night. Misty, chilly air, despite it being summer.
None of which Harry could appreciate at the moment, since he was currently cooped up in his father's study, discussing the Dark Lord's plans for Harry's next school year. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands relaxed by his side, Harry stood in front of his father's ornately carved wooden desk, absently aware of the merry crackled of the fire in the dark marble fire place.
At length, Harry tilted his head slightly to one side and voiced the question he had been contemplating since the start of the discussion. "Father, I have been thinking about this – why can't I participate in the Triwizard Tournament? It would further our goals. In fact, as a participant, I'd have fame on my side, which would make it much easier to approach students from the other schools. Even if they are reluctant to consort with another school's champion, there are ways around that."
Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes as he stared at his heir, standing tall, proud and confident in front of him. His son was intelligent; perhaps too intelligent. How could Voldemort explain that he had the urge to make sure Harry stayed under the radar as much as possible under the crooked nose of the old fool? The second war between the Light, the Dark and the Ministry of Magic was going on as strong as ever. Once Voldemort had revealed himself to the public, the previous Minister of Magic who was under Voldemort's manipulation had been sacked. The new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, had been selected despite hard campaigning on Lucius' part. A hardliner against the Dark Lord, Scrimgeour had started cooperating with Dumbledore again. While Voldemort had much of the Ministry under his control, until he could replace Scrimgeour, the war was at a stalemate.
Not to mention the fact that Voldemort was not planning to launch into all-out war until he knew what the prophecy contained. While the Dark Lord firmly believed that Harry would not betray him, well, it would set his mind at rest if he could just find out what the prophecy contained. While Voldemort was not longer operating in secret, it did not mean that he should just waltz into the Ministry to pick up the prophecy – no, that would be admitting to his enemies that the prophecy had a certain hold over him. It was an advantage that Voldemort was not yet ready to concede. No, the Dark Lord would have to find a way to retrieve the prophecy secretly, without alerting anyone as to the prophecy's absence.
And so Voldemort could afford to indulge in his son's wish to study at Hogwarts, even if it was only for a year. He had pushed Lucius to revive negotiations for the Triwizard, negotiations that had been put on hold after the fiasco (for the Ministry) at the World Cup last summer. He had even ordered Barty, who had influence over the negotiations, to turn it into more of an exchange programme and not only a mere competition. But although the Triwizard Tournament was a great opportunity for his son to establish a foothold amongst the younger generation of Wizarding Britain, and perhaps even find a way for Voldemort to circumvent the wards of Hogwarts, it was also a huge risk, having his heir and horcrux attending a school filled with members of the Order of the Phoenix led by the old coot. And Voldemort's possessive nature simply refused to allow Harry to be in more danger than he already was. Perhaps it was a good thing that he had ordered Barty to allow Dumbledore to impose an age restriction on the competition.
"No. Your identity as both my heir and Harry James Potter must not be discovered. Not yet." Voldemort's reply was curt, even as he watched for Harry's reaction. His son's face was a neutral mask – years of practice had taught his son the ability to hide his feelings even from the Dark Lord, whenever he wished to. And with his current Occlumency skill, even Voldemort was not able to scan his mind without a verbal attack and a strong fight. Yet he suspected that Harry was not fully satisfied with his answer.
After a silent minute, his son inclined his head. "I understand, Father."
Draco Malfoy strode into the train compartment of the Hogwarts Express coolly, his Slytherin friends following at his heels. Seating himself elegantly onto the leather seat nearest the window, he suppressed a smirk as Pansy Parkinson immediately sat next to him, latching herself onto his arm. The dark-haired girl had been interested in him since forever, and over summer, Draco had finally allowed himself to reciprocate slightly, knowing that being seen as a couple with the unofficial leader of the Slytherin girls in their year, and female fifth-year Prefect of Slytherin, would boost his standing even further. He supposed he liked her well enough as a friend, though he was as yet uncertain whether he did like her romantically…He blinked to clear his head of inane thoughts and focused his attention on his friends.
"It's going to be an interesting year, isn't it?" Draco drawled slightly, smirking at the two males opposite him – Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, both sitting perfectly straight with proper pure-blood etiquette. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had been left outside the door, guarding their compartment, so that no one could enter.
Theo's greenish hazel eyes flashed with amusement, even as he inclined his head in agreement. "What with the Triwizard Tournament and Harrison's presence…I simply can't wait to see what will happen." Blaise's teeth were pearly white as he grinned at that comment. "From the tales you two have told me about the Dark Prince, I suspect it'd be an exciting year indeed. And perhaps he'll manage to put the Gryffindorks in their place…"
Just a Draco was about to admonish Blaise for using Harrison's title in semi-public, there was a loud commotion from outside the compartment. Raising an eyebrow, Draco gestured for Blaise to open the compartment door, even as he rose from his seat. Frowning, all four Slytherins took in the scene outside – Vincent and Gregory were stubbornly blocking the doorway while a red-haired, gangly boy, Ronald Weasley, shouted at the two.
"…need Malfoy to get his pompous ass out here!" Draco caught the tail end of Weasley's words. Now, Draco was not a boy who took well to insults. Yet he found the level of insults that Weasley was wont to use childish and generally not worth his time to even feel insulted over. That did not mean however, that he was about to take that kind of disrespect lying down…Casually, he strolled out of the compartment. "Why, Weasel, pray tell us the reason why you've chosen our compartment to start frothing at…I'm sure all of us would be interested in hearing it." With a smirk, Draco cast a significant glance at all the heads sticking out nearby compartments.
Turning beet-red Weasley practically snarled, "You bloody, stupid git! Malfoy…" Before he could say anything more however, Draco sneered and flicked his wrist. A split second later, he had his wand out from the hostler, and had it pointed at Weasley. "Silencio." Weasley gaped at him, lips flapping, even as his pea-sized brain tried to process the fact that Draco had somehow gotten the drop on him. Ignoring the silently spluttering boy, Draco turned to give his companion a glance – the Mudblood Granger was currently looking at Weasley worriedly. Before she could release the boy however, Draco drawled, "Now, Granger, perhaps you'd like to enlighten us? Or is this merely another attempt at invading our privacy?" His friends snickered at that, no doubt delighted at the show he was putting on.
Granger's bushy haired looked even curlier than usual as she, forgetting Weasley's plight for the moment, snapped out, "We were merely coming to get you for the Prefect meeting, Head Boy's orders. But your two goons refused to allow us to speak to you, and did not look at all capable of passing the message either!" Draco concealed a frown at Granger's words. True, he did tell Vince and Greg that they weren't to be disturbed at all cost, but did the two idiots truly take him at his word? He would have thought that they would have known to inform him if something truly important came up, like the Prefect Meeting…
Casting Vincent and Gregory a withering glance that vowed that he would be speaking to them later about this, Draco inclined his head as haughtily as he could. "Well in that case, we had best proceed then. Pansy?" He extended his arm to her and waited till she had slid her arm through the crook of his, before heading in the direction of the prefect's carriage, ignoring the Mudblood and Weasel.
Harry's smirk was predatory as the Highmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff, announced that he had been chosen as Head Boy for the second year running. While not unheard of, it was a feat that only a few Head Boys had achieved. Of course, what with Frederick Flint long taken care of, and all of the other professors' favour of him and the subservience of the Highmaster to him, it was not a surprise. Harry wondered if Karkaroff thought that he could somehow gain favour with the Dark Prince in this manner, for to his mind, it seemed somewhat foolish to appoint him Head Boy when he was going to be away at Hogwarts for almost the entire year…
"…and in the absence of the Head Boy at the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, the Head Boy shall appoint an acting Head Boy in his stead…" Perhaps Karkaroff in't as foolish as he looked after all, Harry mused. He narrowed his eyes as the Highmaster went on to announce that Durmstrang would be sending over twenty exchange students to Hogwarts, from which the champion would be chosen, and that the list would be out by the end of the week, with input from the Head Boy and the Head Girl.
Harry knew that the latter was a mere figurehead, without much power. Whomever he chose as his replacement would be the one who held the reins of power in Durmstrang…and the Highmaster had, with his last statement, ensured that the students knew just who had the power to influence his decisions. Harry looked forward to a week of flattery, buttering-up and bribery. Perhaps he'd be able to add a few rare books to his father's library, or even some useful favours from the children of rich, influential families in Europe…
Late one night, Harry lounged in the soft leather armchair by the fireplace in the common room, watching his second-in-command who was kneeling by his feet. Save for the two, the common room was empty, which explained Aleron's position – the older teenager tended to show his subservience when no prying eyes were around. Although Harry found it strange that Aleron, who was usually so dominant around others, liked to do that, he knew that on some level, it comforted Aleron so he tended to allow it. "Aleron, who do you think I should leave at Durmstrang?" Harry asked idly, even as his fingers toyed with the piece of parchment in his hand.
Meeting his young master's gaze, Aleron clenched his fists slightly. His expression was slightly guilty as he spoke, "I…my prince, I'm afraid I am unable to offer an objective opinion on this issue." Harry eyed Aleron in silence, allowing Aleron to stew uncomfortably for a few minutes before he let soft laughter escape from his lips. "Relax, Aleron. I am well aware of your conflict of interests…which makes me wonder…what would you do, my friend, if I ordered either you or Silas to accompany me to Hogwarts and the other to stay behind?"
Harry suppressed a smirk as his follower shifted his weight slightly. Aleron was not a fool; he was sure that his follower knew the hidden meaning of his question. He watched as Aleron squared his shoulders, met his eyes and bared his soul. "I will follow your orders without hesitation, Young Master. Although I love Silas dearly, your will is my foremost priority." His words were sincere, the emotions in his eyes unmistakable – he had even lowered his Occlumency shields! Not for the first time, Harry wondered just how much Aleron knew, or suspected, of his learning of Legilimency, a skill that Harry had worked hard at the previous year, and only revealed to his father over the summer holidays. And while Harry was not yet proficient at the skill, he was good enough to brush against Aleron's mind and confirm that what the male had just said was the truth, and nothing but the truth.
"I am very pleased, Aleron," Harry petted the older male on the head lightly. A smirk played about his face even as he continued, "I always reward my followers when they have done well, Aleron. This then, shall be your reward: you will be the Acting Head Boy at Durmstrang in my stead and Silas shall stay to aid you. I expect you to maintain the Night Serpents' power over the student population." The older male's dark blue eyes shone with pure gratitude for a few seconds, before he managed to regain his composure. Bowing his head, Aleron murmured, "I cannot thank you enough, my prince. Be rest assured, I will not fail you."
Harry's lips curled in satisfaction. All was as it should be; he was ready to submit the name list to Karkaroff come morning. Then, in a week's time, it would be off to Hogwarts they go.
The day the Durmstrang and Beaxbaton students were to arrive, Martin Charlus Potter found himself excitedly awaiting their arrival just outside the castle, just like many other students. As it was a cold, chilly September evening, he had his thick red and gold scarf wrapped around his neck, and his thick winter cloak on, like all the students waiting outside…
His eyes traversed the student population, all lined up in rows according to year. The entire castle, it seemed, had gathered outdoors including Professor Dumbledore the teachers and of course, his dad, the Dueling Professor. Ha, as if Dad would miss this for anything! James' excitement had shown all week, from the way he lectured his classes (Now, not that I expect you to, but should you get into a duel with any Durmstrang or Beaubaton student, I want you to uphold Hogwarts' honour and defeat them!) to the way he practically volunteered to be the teacher-in-charge of the exchange students during their time at Hogwarts. Martin smiled as he recalled how his mother, Samantha, had rolled her eyes with exasperation at his father's antics during the fire-call they had earlier this week.
"Exciting, isn't it?" Martin turned to the side to smile at his best friend, Ginevra Weasley, who was also his year-mate. Thank goodness Professor Dumbledore had allowed him to start school a year earlier, at the insistence of his dad, which meant that he was allowed to start school the same year as Ginny. Or he, being born in October, would have had to wait till the following year…and wouldn't that suck? "Yeah Gin, pretty exciting. How do you think they'd arrive?"
"That is something for me to know and you to find out, isn't it, Potter?" a cool, sneering voice drawled from somewhere behind him. Martin spun around, only to see one Draco Malfoy, in all his blonde pallor, standing right behind him, flanked by his Slytherin sycophants - Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. "Malfoy!" Martin spat out, his voice thick with irritation. Really now, it was just his luck. Trust Malfoy to ruin his excited mood! Sometimes, Martin thought he hated Malfoy as much as Ron did, a feat which Ginny thought was impossible…No one, she had reasoned, could hate Malfoy as much as her brother did, though she conceded that perhaps Martin could be a close second.
Malfoy had a bored air around him as he casually flicked away a piece of imaginary lint on his robes. "Yeah, that's my name. Are your brains useful for anything other than pointing out the obvious?" His fellow Slytherins snickered at that, even as Martin felt himself flush at the jab. No, Martin had to tell himself, he would not hex bloody Malfoy into bloody pieces in full sight of the teachers…and his dad. Luckily for him, Ginny intervened with her usual fiery temper, "Stop baiting Martin, Malfoy, and just shut it, won't you?"
A cold glint entered Malfoy's grey eyes as he allowed a sneer to lift the corner of his lips. "And why should I listen to anything you have to say, blood-traitor?" Martin saw the effects of Malfoy's words; a subtle shudder ran through Ginny. He supposed he couldn't blame his best friend, Malfoy could be downright threatening sometimes. Whenever he got the glint in his eyes…It was no wonder that he was called the Ice Prince of Slytherin…
Before Martin could form a suitable retort for his friend however, cries of oohs, and aahs filled the air. And then Dumbledore called out from the back row, where he stood with the other teachers, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" Martin could see something large, much larger than a broomstick, or indeed, a hundred broomsticks, hurtling across the deep blue sky towards the castle, growing larger all the time.
As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage that was the size of a large house soaring towards them, pulled through the air by a dozen golden winged horses each the size of an elephant.
Then, after the carriage had hurtled ever lower, it came to land at a tremendous speed. Crash! Martin heard a few first year girls scream, even as the door of the carriage, which bore a coat of arms of two golden crossed wands, each emitting three stars, opened. Then, a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage and unfolded a set of golden steps before springing back respectfully. Immediately after, Martin saw a huge – no, gigantic – woman step out from the carriage; Martin had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid. As she stepped up forward to greet Dumbledore, who had moved to the front of the students, Martin noted that she had a handsome, olive-skinned face, large black liquid-looking eyes and dark black hair drawn into a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to toe in black satin, with many glittering opals decorating her neck and hands.
"My dear Madame Maxime," Dumbledore bowed over the woman's hands. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
Draco, having long since put the obligatory childish spat with Weasley and Potter out of his mind, observed silently the interaction between the Beauxbatons Headmistress and Dumbledore with a watchful eye, even as he noted with interest the Beaubatons' students rather disdainful attitude towards Hogwarts. A rather interesting tidbit, he thought, that Harrison might be able to use…
After the Beauxbatons students had entered the castle, Draco turned his eyes to the lake and waited. For a moment, all was silent, then a loud and eerie noise could be heard drifting towards them from out of the darkness, a muffled rumbling and sucking sound...
Some disturbance was taking place in the centre of the lake. Great bubbles formed on the surface, waves washed down the muddy banks, then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared. What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool…
Draco knew it was the mast of the Durmstrang ship even if he hadn't seen the riggings on the pole. Tuning out the excited chatter of the students around him, he watched as the ship rose of the water, slowly and magnificently, gleaming in the setting sun. It had a strange, skeletal look about it, as dim, misty lights shimmered at its portholes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the sip emerged entirely. Then, Draco saw the anchor being thrown down into the shallows, and a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking, Draco noted that all were dressed in the thick, fur-lined black cloaks over their crimson robes and black leather boots…the man who was leading them up to the castle, however, wore furs that were sleek and silver, just like his short hair and a curly goatee. Ah, that was the Highmaster Karkaroff, then…Draco listened with half an ear open as Karkaroff greeted Dumbledore – his eyes were drawn to the slender figure with jet-black hair and brilliant emerald green eyes beside the Highmaster, who was flanked by two blonde-haired twins.
Draco took a deep breath, then let it out. They had planned this, the first greeting, out carefully. Breaking ranks, Draco and his friends moved forward through the student population even as the slender figure too strode towards him. When they met just in front of the students, just behind Dumbledore and Karkaroff, Draco offered his hand, a polite smile and a small nod. "Harrison, it's a great pleasure to have you here. Welcome to Hogwarts."
Harrison Maximus Riddle's eyes gleamed in amusement even as he allowed a neutral smile to blossom on his face. Taking Draco's hands to shake, his voice was clear and smooth as he replied, "Thank you, Draco. It is indeed a pleasure for us to be at Hogwarts." Behind him, Septimus and Octavius Withers offered Draco a polite nod, as did all the other Durmstrang students that Draco knew. And there it was: the first hint of an establishment of a hierarchy for those who knew how to interpret the signs…the first step in their plans…or rather, Harrison's plans. Draco smirked as he fell into step beside Harrison, aware of the students' watching eyes as the two strode into the Entrance Hall.
James Potter felt a twitch of curiosity at the handshake. Clearly, the Malfoy brat knew the boy from Durmstrang. Which would not be strange if the boy was a pureblood, as students from Durmstrang tended to be, James supposed. The Malfoys' influence extended far and wide. Even the Potters and Blacks, whose lines were far more ancient than the Malfoys, did not have as much influence in pureblood circles, though James supposed that was the fault of him and Sirius', considering that they had pretty much allowed the influence of their Houses to lapse once they had taken over the mantle of lordship from their fathers. Which would explain why he did not recognize the boy, he supposed, though he had no doubt the boy was the heir to an influential family. With the way he carried himself, the words of polite cordiality…there was no way he could be anything less. Though there was something familiar about his eyes…that shade of green, now where had he seen it before?
Just as James was about to pursue that line of thought however, he suddenly thought of something else – oh no, wasn't he supposed to lead the exchange students to line up in front of the Great Hall? But it was too late, the boy and Malfoy had entered the castle, leading the rest of the students with them. James gave a mental sigh. Being a teacher was just so much work!
Being a Dark Lord was no easy task, Voldemort mused as he contemplated his next move. The prophecy. It had been weighing heavily on the Dark Lord's mind since he had named his son the Dark Prince. Now, more than ever, he could not afford for Harry to betray him. And so, he had to know the full content of the prophecy, for the part which he did know of was not at all concrete on that point. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…
There was a knock on door of his study, to which Voldemort twitched his fingers once. The door swung open silently, only to reveal the straw-coloured hair and rugged face of Barty Crouch. Voldemort watched as Barty stepped into the room and kneeled at a couple of feet away from where Voldemort was currently standing in the centre of the room. "Master," Barty murmured as he clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head.
"Barty. You will use your disguise in the Ministry to find out everything you can about the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. You are to keep this an absolute secret. Tell no one, not even Harry. Do you understand?" Voldemort ordered in his cold, cruel voice. He waited for Barty to look up, noting the flash of surprise that crossed his Death Eater's face. It was rare for Voldemort to exclude his son from his plans.
Barty however, was well trained, so he merely said, in a clear, eager voice, "Yes, Master." Satisfied, Voldemort nodded once. Then, he changed the subject. "Now, Barty. How goes your infiltration into the Ministry?" This was a small indulgence Voldemort granted only to those Death Eaters he favoured – a period of time for them to extol upon the process of their labour. In reality, the Dark Lord cared nothing about the process – merely the end result. But it was a good way to reward his followers…especially the ones as eager to please as Barty Crouch.
An ocean and many countries away, Aleron Fidel Mulciber peered up into the night sky from the window of his dorm room srather wistfully. The young master had left but earlier that day, and Aleron was already feeling the ache of his absence. Somehow, it simply did not feel right for him – to be in Durmstrang as Acting Head Boy, without the guidance of the young master. All along, Aleron's role has been extremely clear – he was advisor and subordinate to the young master. He gave advice to aid the young master in his plans, and ensured that the young master's plans were carried out.
Now however, Aleron was left to run the school in the young master's absence. Sure, the young master had left him with explicit instructions on the matter. It all boiled down to one thing: Keep the students loyal to and in awe of the young master in his absence. And if he had any difficulties, the young master was merely an owl and a day away…And the young master was himself surrounded by many trustworthy advisors; there were many at Hogwarts who could ensure that the young master's plans were successful in his steed…
"Knut for your thoughts?" An all too familiar voice asked in an uncharacteristic quiet voice. Aleron turned to take in the visage of his lover, Silas Curtis Macnair. As always, he was struck by that special brand of fierce beauty that his lover possessed – the high cheekbones, sharp, hawk-like features and intense brown eyes. Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through Silas' walnut brown hair before allowing his hand to drop. "I was just thinking about the young master." There was such a tone of longing in that sentence that Aleron was sure that if his lover had been any other guy, he would have been in trouble for speaking about another male in that manner.
As it was, Silas merely regarded Aleron with wry amusement. "Should I be jealous?" Seeing that Aleron did not respond to the joke, Silas turned serious. "Aleron…there is no need to worry. The young master will be fine – he has Draco, Emlen and Daphne with him. And the twins. His plans at Hogwarts will be successful." He laid a hand on Aleron's shoulder. "And the young master has a very loyal subordinate here at Durmstrang, who will ensure that his plans at Durmstrang will be successful too."
Aleron tilted his lips upwards in a half-smile. Trust Silas to know of his thoughts and insecurities… "Nay Silas. You're wrong." Silas quirked an eyebrow upward questioningly. With all the conviction he felt, Aleron continued firmly, "The young master has two loyal subordinates at Durmstrang. And we will ensure the success of his plans. Regardless of the cost. I pledged to the young master that I will not fail him. And I have every intention of keeping my promise." At the confident declaration, Silas' eyes seemed to smile at him even as his lips murmured words of agreement. With his half-parted lips and shining eyes, Silas was the very image of attractiveness…Aleron's smile widened into a wolfish grin. He clasped his lover about the waist with a strong grasp and drew Silas closer…