Chapter 37

HUNTING FATHER CHRISTMAS

It was in an unusual way that I entered Diagon Alley as a very fresh Hogwarts alumnus: I was invisible and riding my Firebolt, Supersensory Charm on, a wand in my tight grip and Dobby invisibly grasping my back with the order of Disapparating us to safety should something unexpected and dangerous happen. Far below me, Derrick, Bole, Montague, Warrington and Bletchley were walking down the alley, looking as happy and unconcerned as any young people who had just either graduated or earned their holiday had every right to feel. (This, however, was only possible because of mild Cheering Charms I had cast on each one of them.) Moreover, Derrick had drunk a dose of Polyjuice Potion with my hair in it, and a series of disguising charms had made him my exact copy.

They entered my house and checked every room. Nothing happened. Voldemort's agent at Hogwarts had surely informed his master that I had been the one to return with the Triwizard Cup alongside Harry, and Pettigrew knew where I lived. But apparently Voldemort's desire to reclaim my wand was not so great that he would have risked being exposed by attacking the busiest shopping hub in wizarding Britain in broad daylight. My brother's eye was on me now, and I needed to embrace all methods of Constant Vigilance I had learned to avoid the bleak fate he had in store for me.

I entered the house and cast a few of the most basic wards; they would not stop Voldemort, but they might delay him for a second; long enough for me to realise that I was under attack and Disapparate. Then I used the Disillusionment Charm on Montague and Warrington and sent them out to fly above the house looking for signs of an attack. Bletchley exited the house as well, but I ordered him to stay on the street and to be alert for suspicious looking people. Derrick and Bole stayed inside with Dobby and me, and together we packed almost everything I owned in a trunk with the Extension Charm. Books, potions, potion ingredients, my memory collection, all the priceless artefacts I had bought from Borgin and Burkes and stolen from the Black townhouse… I would leave nothing except some disposable pieces of furniture to wait for Voldemort's inevitable raid.

When the packing was finished, I sent my five servants home and took my leave from the wizarding world for a while. It was time to pay the price of the Sleep Debt Potion that I had consumed for a week, and I would do so in a place where no one would think of looking for me. I randomly chose a remote Muggle village in Wales, rented a room in a small homely inn and told the elderly couple running it not to disturb me. I could only barely bring myself to ward the inn before collapsing into bed. Dobby stayed there with me; as always, he was to Disapparate us both to safety at the first sign of trouble and to wake me up every day for half an hour to eat and to go to the loo.

Waking up after three days of almost ceaseless sleep felt like a whole new life; or it would have if I had not happened to have such an experience already. The dull feeling of fogginess was gone from my mind and the world looked amazingly colourful; it was a shame my final memories of Hogwarts seemed so grey and dreary in comparison. I looked out of the window to the beautiful sunny Welsh countryside, and new vigour and enthusiasm made me itch for an adventure.

Dobby had brought the newest Daily Prophets from Diagon Alley every day, but I had been too sleepy to even leaf them through while having my daily meals. But now, with the sleep debt repaid, I took them all with me to the garden of the inn where I went to have my breakfast. Nothing notable seemed to have happened; no Death Eater attacks, no strange disappearances and nothing about a house in Diagon Alley being burnt to the ground. Dumbledore was mentioned a few times in less than favourable light. Everything seemed to be as it had been.

Hogwarts was finished and the time had come for me to start my career as a free and independent wizard; a career that would hopefully culminate in my becoming the uncontested immortal mastermind who would secretly pull the strings of every single powerful individual in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. I had three major obstacles: one, the vast multitude of both magical and mundane arts that I still needed to learn; two, Voldemort; and three, Dumbledore.

And as I had realised, the best first step was to find Igor Karkaroff before Voldemort would and force him to my service. A master of the Dark Arts who knew how Voldemort and the Death Eaters operated and who probably could still get me an access to the Durmstrang library was a better start for my career than anything else out there.

No outsider knew where Durmstrang was located. Even its students did not know; I knew this, because I had tried to learn the location from their minds with Legilimency during the months they had been sitting at the same table as I. There was probably some spell in place preventing them from learning their location.

What was known was that the majority of Durmstrang students came from Slavic countries and that the institute was under the jurisdiction of wizarding Russia. However, that meant little, not only because Russia was vast, but because wizarding Russia had no clear geographical borders. In many parts of Northern and Eastern Europe magical population was so sparse that they had not bothered to form actual magical states. It was like a magical frontier, almost a lawless region, but if the people living there needed a political authority, they usually relied on the People's Commissariat for Magic in Moscow. Those few wizards who lived in the frontier usually had much closer ties to the Muggle societies around them than to other wizards, much to the disapproval of the International Confederation of Wizards.

As far as any outsider knew, Durmstrang could be located anywhere in this vast frontier. However, a resourceful person capable of problem-solving could rule out much of this area just by considering certain facts.

First, the institute's name was Germanic, suggesting that it had a long history with Germanic nations. Medieval German wizards would not have established their secret castle in Siberia or any other part of wizarding Russia that would have been impractically far from their sphere of influence.

Second, Durmstrang students wore thick cloaks and furs, meaning their school was somewhere far in the north where they had to protect themselves from the arctic cold. But even the northern reaches of European Russia were enormous, so I had needed more hints. I had used Legilimency on the Durmstrang students and found a piece of information someone might have considered trivial: every winter in Durmstrang there were around three weeks when the sun did not rise above the horizon. That meant the institute had to be located somewhere north from the Arctic Circle. It was on top of a hill which meant it received more sunlight than the surrounding plains, so it had to be some distance further north from places where the polar night was three weeks long.

This narrowed the possible location so much that finding Durmstrang should, in theory, be possible simply by flying north of the Arctic Circle and checking each hilltop. Unfortunately, in practice it meant little. Durmstrang certainly had such a powerful set of wards that breaking them was far beyond my powers. Then again, Hogwarts had probably the most powerful wards in the world, and Sirius Black had repeatedly found his way in with sheer cunning.

And it was not exactly Durmstrang I wanted to find, but its Headmaster. Karkaroff knew that Voldemort was going to punish him, and hiding in the school he was the Headmaster of would have been pure madness. However, if I were Karkaroff, I still would have chosen a hiding place somewhere near Durmstrang. Fleeing within the protection of the wards when found would offer at least some time to plan an escape route, and Durmstrang had to be an irreplaceable source of many resources as well; potion ingredients, magical items, food, house-elves and so on.

And so, after putting all this together in that lovely Welsh garden, I embarked on the traditional world tour that many of the most talented wizards made after graduating from Hogwarts. It was common to travel to places with long and proud histories of magic such as Italy, Greece and Egypt, and I had many times daydreamt about such a tour. Never had I imagined I would head to the desolate wastelands of the north instead where the only other wizard within hundreds of miles was doing his best to avoid me.

The name of Tom Valedro was without a doubt being sought by malevolent forces, so I did not go to buy a Portkey to Saint Petersburg; the purchase would have been entered in the accounting files of the travel agency and soon some Death Eater would have learned of it, causing Voldemort to come after me and my wand. But the Muggle way of transportation was something narrow-minded pure-blood supremacists would never even consider.

I bought a plane ticket to Finland. During the summer, outside the skiing season, I could not get a direct flight to Rovaniemi in Lapland, so I had to venture a stopover in Helsinki. There was a reason I would have preferred to avoid going near Finland's capital: there were many rumours about Finland being a notoriously dangerous place for foreign wizards.

Muggle Finland had been ruled by the de facto autocratic President Urho Kekkonen ever since 1946. It was said that he was a wizard who had used the absence of wizarding authority in the frontier to his advantage. According to this rumour, he had used the Confundus Charm to force the previous President, the war hero Marshal Mannerheim, to resign, and then to make the parliament elect him as the new President. After that he had solidified his power, and he had been particularly effective when dealing with the Soviet Union, the superpower ruled in secret by his alleged old friends from Durmstrang.

Individuals like Kekkonen were dangerous, but even though he was said to be paranoid of usurpers, he held no personal grudge against me. I kept a low profile during the stopover and was vigilant for wizard guards recognising me as one of their kin. Nothing happened, and soon I was flying northward, away from the most dangerous city for wizards in Europe.

Rovaniemi was a town near the Arctic Circle. Right after landing I turned myself invisible and began a new flight with my Firebolt. The unending wilderness that spread around me was something totally alien to a Briton, and for a moment I despaired. There were literally a limitless number of places where Karkaroff could be hiding.

I flew from west to east, heading always to the next hilltop within sight. I flew, and I flew, day after day, utilising the constantly shining sun as I searched for signs of a magical castle or a hiding old wizard. The most imposing hills I encountered were the Khibiny Mountains in the Kola Peninsula, but my magically heightened senses could not find anything in there. Eventually I reached the end of the Kola Peninsula and turned back, starting the search anew, this time from east to west.

I had expected it to be frustrating, but it turned out to be wonderful instead. The sceneries were breathtaking, the sun seemed to be circling me as it stayed above the horizon and absolutely no one was there bothering me. It was pure freedom! In the land of the midnight sun even the time of day did not dictate what I could do, and many times I found myself the most active when the sun was shining from the north. And I never felt bored; there were still many books in my trunk from the Black townhouse that I had not yet read, and using my yew wand was joy in itself. Many times I also stopped to play the violin with the endless, magnificent desolation as my only audience. My lodging was one of those luxurious magical tents that offered almost the same comforts as a magical house. This was what I should have done the previous summer too instead of wasting my time with the social circles of Slytherin families!

Eventually came the night when the sun disappeared from the sky for a moment, and I decided enough time had been spent enjoying the solitude. I had nothing to show for my search, and suspicion was creeping into my mind that I was, after all, seeking Durmstrang and its Headmaster from the wrong places. Eager to get some news I headed south until the Solovetsky Islands came into my sight in the middle of the White Sea.

When I had first planned my intrusion to Durmstrang I had considered whether that small archipelago could be the secret location of the school. It did have a small wizarding village, but not only did it not fit the scenery I had seen in the minds of Durmstrang students, also its history did not fit. Shortly after the October Revolution, Lenin, the first Comrade of wizarding Russia ruling as Grindelwald's puppet, had established a Muggle slave labour camp on the main island. Certainly he would not have done so anywhere near his alma mater.

The wizarding village of Solovetsky was actually located inside the walls of the famous monastery that the island was known for, the magical buildings just hidden from the sight of the Muggle tourists flocking all over the place. I entered a tavern that appeared to also be a shop and a meeting place of the locals.

"A newspaper, please," I said to the householder and tossed a few coins on the counter.

"Sorry, lad, this is the only one we have," he grunted and handed me a paper. It was, of course, written in Cyrillic script and in Russian.

"Uhh… sorry, I can't read Russian," I mumbled, ashamed of my thoughtlessness.

"You speak it very well," said the householder, and I blinked in surprise. I had actually been speaking in English, but at the same time using Legilimency on him in order to deliver my thoughts and receive his through the language barrier. Surely the same method could be used to read as well.

I sat down at a same table as an old man who seemed not to be in a hurry.

"Do you mind reading this?" I asked.

"Yes, I do," he said, wrinkling his nose. "That's Truth, the only newspaper we have here in Russia, and it's utter rubbish! You can't even use it to start a fire, because the publisher has charmed it against burning!"

"Please, I'm from Britain on a traditional post-graduation tour, and I'd like to learn what it's like in Russia!" I pleaded.

"Oh, well, in that case I'll tell you something about the newspaper and our system that's rotten to the core," he said, suddenly enthusiastic about having someone to complain to. "First, the reading instruction. When something is printed in Truth, the actual truth is the total opposite! You see, the idiots in Moscow are too inept to even make a code that'd be difficult to decode."

I wondered if this hostility towards the central government had something to do with monasteries such as the one in Solovetsky having been treated badly under the communist rule or if almost every Russian wizard thought like this one.

He started to read the newspaper and I his mind. The newest paper did not tell anything of interest to me, but I learned that some time ago, around the time the Durmstrang term had ended, there had been news of Igor Karkaroff disappearing. Very subtly I fished this memory to the forefront of his mind so that it would seem like he was the one who had changed the topic.

"As I said, utter rubbish!" he exclaimed and handed the newspaper back to me. "By the way, have you heard that Igor Karkaroff has disappeared?"

"What, the Durmstrang Headmaster?"

"The very one," he said and nodded dramatically. "He used to come here every now and then. Damned git! My father Sergei has never forgiven him for what he did to us!"

"What did he do?"

"He served Grindelwald, of course! My father was here when Lenin led his brigands here under Grindelwald's orders and robbed us! Karkaroff was just a kid back then, but later he joined the oppressor! He betrayed us all! Grindelwald is responsible for every disaster that has plagued Russia in almost a hundred years! He infiltrated the Muggle imperial court disguised as a monk called Grigori Rasputin and undermined the entire system! He murdered the Austrian prince and made sure Russia escalated the crisis into a war, starting the chain of events that led to the revolution of those damned Bolsheviks! He caused death and devastation! And Karkaroff joined his cause!"

The old man was raving. Every other conversation in the tavern had quieted and people stared at us, but they seemed equally hostile towards Karkaroff.

"Then why did he come here every now and then?" I asked.

"I guess this is the only tavern within Apparating distance from Durmstrang," said the householder who, apparently, did understand English. "I dunno, it's not like I know where my old school is."

That was all I needed to know: I was on the right track after all.

"My father always says that he's gonna beat Karkaroff up one day," said the old man. "He was really depressed when the git didn't show up anymore…"

But I had already left.

It was somewhat unclear what the maximum Apparating distance was. The Kwikspell instructor had told me that trying to Apparate too far usually resulted in Splinching, but it would get better with more experience. Some adult wizards certainly could Apparate safely between Hogwarts and London, a distance of over four hundred miles, but most preferred using Floo powder even for much shorter distances. International travel was done using Portkeys, but extremely few wizards were capable of creating them. They also seemed to be easily tracked, because so many governments effectively regulated them without problems.

Studying a map of wizarding Russia confirmed that my initial assumption of Durmstrang's location was most likely accurate: Lapland was the only part of wizarding Russia that was too far from other settlements than Solovetsky to be Apparated to. And so I returned to Rovaniemi and started a new plan of searching.

One idea popped in my mind: what if Karkaroff had used the same method of hiding from Voldemort as I had? Hiding among Muggles was usually the best possible choice. If I found Durmstrang's location, Karkaroff's hiding place might very well be the nearest Muggle hostel. Lapland had no shortage of them, but they were usually less popular during the summer.

"Hello," I said to a Muggle in a tourist centre. "I'm looking for someone… a foreigner… and I think he might've been seen somewhere around here."

"What does he look like?" the Muggle asked.

"He's an old man, he has a beard and the last time I saw him he wore a uniform, a red set of robes. And – someone might call him a wizard."

The Muggle stared at me as if I was out of my mind.

"Everyone knows him!" he said. "You're speaking of Father Christmas!"

Oh no, I thought, my hope deflating.

"Father Christmas isn't usually seen this time of the year, but his workshop is not that far from here. It's a magical place hidden from the sight of ordinary people, but everyone knows it's located on top of Korvatunturi, a hill on the Russian border."

Magical place of an old bearded man wearing a red uniform… hidden from the sight of ordinary people… on top of a hill in the Arctic region… This was too fitting to be a mere coincidence. Many Muggle legends had origins in the wizarding world. Why could Father Christmas and his hidden workshop not be among them?

"Thank you!" I cried as I rushed out of the tourist centre.

Soon Korvatunturi (the Finnish name literally meant 'Ear Fell') loomed ahead of me. I was quite sure I had checked it on one of the early days of my trip, but of course good wards could make a place hidden even from those who were actively seeking it. This time I focused on landing on the hilltop, nothing else…

… and for some reason the hilltop always eluded me, but with such a subtle way that I had to do it many times to be sure. It was much like the shack in the forest near Little Hangleton. Durmstrang, however, had to have a nexus of magic just like Hogwarts that powered the wards with a constant supply of magical power. Breaking them required nothing less than an army.

Still, Durmstrang's location was now found, even if the castle itself was not. If Karkaroff was behaving like I would have in his situation, he was somewhere nearby, probably shifting from one hideout to another regularly.

For the next two weeks I flew wide circles around Durmstrang and stopped at every house and cottage. Around each of them I placed a few charms that would alert me if they noticed something. The most sophisticated of them was the Magic Sensing Alert Charm which was probably the most challenging spell I had yet mastered. It was so subtle that even a powerful wizard might not notice it, and it was used by the Ministry of Magic around all influential Muggles in order to learn if Dark wizards tried to gain control over the Muggle world. The wizarding world had learned its lessons from Grindelwald's schemes.

Finally one of my charms triggered, and I immediately Apparated near its location. There was a humble cottage at the shore of Lake Inari, and someone was walking around it, someone with magic, possibly casting safety charms. I took up my spyglass and looked: it was Karkaroff!

I had given my attack much thought. Attacking an almost eighty-year-old wizard who had managed to usurp the previous Headmaster of Durmstrang and who had experience from two wars would have been reckless, even suicidal, but I had a special weapon – fear. He did not know who it was that would attack him, and I had no intention of letting him know before he was defeated.

A series of disguising charms made my face look snakelike; not exactly like Voldemort, but I covered my head with my hood so that the details would not be easily seen. Then I prepared many illusions to look like Death Eaters on broomsticks. And, of course, fireworks had already proven to be a good way to start the show.

Karkaroff had almost created his first ward when I triggered the Anti-Apparition, Anti-Portkey and Anti-Floo Wards that I had prepared in advance. He spun immediately around, wand ready for action, but the fireworks exploded, making him flinch in reflex and lose his focus.

"Igor!" I cried. "You betrayed Lord Voldemort!"

Five illusions of Death Eaters appeared in the sky. Karkaroff glanced around and spotted me approaching from the direction of the sun. He cried in terror and pointed his wand.

"Az-reth!"

So, he resorted to serious spells right from the beginning. Fiendfyre erupted upwards, but it was not difficult to dodge with a broomstick as fast as the Firebolt. In midair the hellish fire did not have anything to burn, and maintaining it became very straining for Karkaroff. I circled him and started a counter-attack with both of my wands. The yew wand was so perfectly attuned with the Dark Arts that I barely needed even to think the incantation of the Blasting Curse to create explosions of such horrendous power that Lockhart's wand just could not match them.

Karkaroff fell over when one of the blasts tore a massive hole into the ground next to him. Fear gripped him so that his control over the Fiendfyre was lost, and the Dark inferno died down in seconds.

"Pathetic, Igor!" I laughed, channelling my inner Voldemort. "If you really thought you could fight me, you wouldn't have fled like a timid little mouse!"

Suddenly Karkaroff pulled a broomstick out of his pocket and enlarged it. I let him take off, but then activated the Anti-Flying Ward that affected all kinds of flying charms except those of my Firebolt. Karkaroff took a nosedive and ended up sprawling on the ground. I howled with laughter.

"This is fun, Igor!" I said and bombarded him with more Blasting Curses. "If you entertain me enough, I may show you some mercy!"

He ran and dodged desperately until a curse exploded almost under his feet. He flew through the air, this time for much longer than with the broomstick, but he fell in the lake and lost the grip of his wand.

"Please, my lord!" he screamed. "I've always been loyal to you! You don't understand!"

I Summoned his wand and incapacitated him with a Body-Bind Curse that only allowed him to speak. Karkaroff stood meekly in the shallow water with even his trembling restrained.

"So, you are loyal after all, are you, Igor?" I asked as I positioned myself above him. "Then why did you come here instead of the graveyard where I summoned you? Was it a pure mistake that you tried to roast me with Fiendfyre, eh?"

He did not respond. There was nothing he could say to sway Voldemort.

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes burst from my wand and tied him securely for good measure. Now that he was doubly incapacitated, I floated down right next to him and dispelled the more recent ones of my disguising charms. The expression of terror on his face was replaced with confusion, then relief, then outrage.

"You!" he bellowed. "Tom Valedro?! What in Merlin's name do you want? Are you this mad about getting so few points in the tournament? I regret giving you any!"

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "You should be thankful, because I'm going to save you from Voldemort. But first I must be sure you won't betray me like you betrayed him. There's something you'll have to do. We're going to Solovetsky!"

"What? No! The filthy peasants will –"

"Stupefy."

The old man who had raged about Karkaroff was happy to welcome me back with the betrayer. It turned out that Karkaroff had been born in Solovetsky and he had been the only person from the village not to hold a grudge against Grindelwald. Other villagers had eagerly participated in the attack led by Dumbledore that had defeated Grindelwald's minions in the People's Commissariat for Magic during Grindelwald's Second War, but the survival of the communist regime had been a huge disappointment to them. They had no love for Dumbledore or his kindly ways, and thus they would not decline helping me to do something to Karkaroff that Dumbledore would have considered atrocious.

Sergei, the old man's father, was so ancient that I doubted he had many years left to live. When I brought Karkaroff to his cottage, his eyes blazed with vengeful fire.

"Igor," he purred, "for so long have I wanted to see you in such a defenceless state! You will pay for your crimes and the crimes of your master!"

"Wait!" I said as Sergei raised his wand. "I have a better idea for revenge. Karkaroff will swear an Unbreakable Vow to serve me for the rest of his life. I need someone to sacrifice some of his magical power to bind the Vow."

"You wouldn't dare!" Karkaroff growled, but I very much dared. I had been too trusting with Pettigrew, and even though his return to Voldemort's side had provided me plenty of new opportunities, I did not want any new surprises like it.

"I will happily sacrifice some of mine," Sergei said, just as I had known he would. "I've got little use for my magic anymore. You do deserve a reward, boy. Igor shall be your house-elf! There's not a fate more fitting for vermin who betrayed his own village for a small sliver of power from the oppressor! Ha ha!"

As the brutes of the Slytherin Quidditch team had sworn Unbreakable Vows of servitude to me, so did Karkaroff. He gritted his teeth and muttered heinous curses, but the only other option was to let the villagers deal with him.

He was crestfallen and defeated when we left Solovetsky, and I said to him,

"Now you will take me to Durmstrang and teach me everything you know."

Posted on the 16th of February, 2021.