The Duality of Harry James Potter

by ashland94

In 1945, Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald took over the world. Thirty-five years later, Harry Potter begins his journey. Durmstrang Harry, who is equal to Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and Tom Riddle at various stages of their lives. Very AU. No prophecy. No scar. No one is the BWL and no one will be.

2. Beginnings and Endings

Beginnings and Endings

Matters of the Mind

18 June 1986

Before Charlus and Harry left England, which had been the day after the new year started, Charlus told James. Then, much to Harry's amusement, Charlus had swept him off to France then to that house in Turks and Caicos.

They'd returned to Greece to find Henry waiting for them.

"Hello, Papa," Charlus had said.

"I'm unamused."

Charlus nodded as he and Harry sat on the sofa. "Has he told his wife and father yet?"

"He had to once she asked why he was so hell bent on finding you," Henry had snapped. "And she hasn't stopped being a nuisance since."

Charlus had raised his eyebrows. "You're not here to yell at me. You're here because they're getting on your nerves." When Henry had looked away, Charlus had laughed. "You are running from them."

"Go to hell, Charlus." Henry had rubbed his face. "Simeon has been in my face every damn day since. Three weeks, Charlus! I love the boy, but everyone deserves a day off."

Harry did end up meeting James the weekend.

Upon seeing his grandfather, his eyes had widened. "I thought you were in France."

Charlus had laughed from somewhere in the back.

Henry had sighed in response. "Go to hell, James."

James had shrugged and turned to Harry. He'd visited almost every weekend after and even tried to get Harry to come back to England with him.

And Harry had given in for one week, but only because Charlus was going on holiday with Darius and Harry didn't want to go. His first choice had been Cassiopeia and his second the Rosiers, but Charlus made him go to England.

"It'll be fine," he'd said.

Harry had just scowled in response.

Throughout the week he'd done his best to stick by Henry. Unfortunately, Naomi didn't like that. Why? He couldn't begin to guess, but he did know he didn't like her anymore.

When he finally managed to corner Henry, it was in the potions room as Henry liked to brew for local shelters and clinics sometimes.

The potions room was dark with a long table in the center. The shelves were stacked with vials and there was a silver refrigerator in the back and opposite a sink.

Harry slipped into the room behind him and Henry looked over his shoulder with a smile. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi."

As Henry walked forward, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I have some questions…"

"I'll answer them if you help me brew."

They stopped by the table and Harry wrinkled his nose. "Brew? I hate potions."

Henry clutched his chest and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Dramatic."

"Your livelihood was gained through potion-making."

Harry nodded. "Gambling and fightin', too."

Henry waved a dismissive hand. "Quintinus and his descendants. We are Hardwin's children."

"Richard?"

Henry held up a finger. "Justifiable violence."

"Violence you got a fortune from."

"We and I will not argue with you about this." He copied a parchment then handed it Harry. "You want answers? You'll help me brew."

Harry huffed. "Fine."

Henry summoned the ingredients to the Anti-Conception Draught as Harry pulled out tools and a cutting board.

Once they had begun, Harry asked, "How did you become a good wizard?"

"What did Grindelwald say?"

Harry shook his head. "Haven't asked him."

Henry, who looked pleased with the answer, nodded. "I read to understand and practiced mental fortitude."

"What does 'understand' mean?"

"When you read, you pick up knowledge, yes?" He nodded as he turned on the fire. "Be it the meaning of a new word or knowledge of an entire topic. You will know something new when you finish. That is reading to know and most people do it. You're seeing the forest or the trees. Not both."

Harry scrunched up his face. What?

"When you read to understand, you're reading for the big picture. You do that by putting all your knowledge together. What makes a forest?"

"Trees and bugs? I don't know."

Henry laughed. "What makes a charm?"

Harry stopped powdering the ginger root. "Oh! I get it." He deflated. "Oh, no. Theory."

Henry laughed harder. He eventually sighed with a smile and nodded. "Yes, theory. Have you studied much of it?"

Harry shook his head as he turned back to the ginger "No, Snape and Bella made me read books, but I didn't really get it. I was just practicing my Latin. Mrs. Bagshot gave me those books at the start, but now I'm just practicing my Greek."

Henry nodded. "You should begin soon. It'll keep you from scrambling when you're nine. One book a week. You'll be a hundred and four books in by the time they start teaching theory at the Palladion. You can take your time and ask questions and we can help you with the bigger books should you require it.."

Harry tilted his head. "How would I start?"

"I imagine you have read a number of children's books, yes? They were, in theory, theoretical?"

Harry nodded. "Picture books."

"The library in Greece is small, but it's full of books for school aged children. I'll reach out to Celestine for books in French for you," he said. "What you need to do is start with the biggest picture. What is magic? In fact, there's a book with that title. Then you want to differentiate between wand magic and the soft arts. Then you want to break things down by sub-branch."

Harry felt aghast. "I'm going to read. No need to pile it on."

Henry smiled. "I'm not."

Harry blew out a breath. "Ok, I'll start with the easy stuff first then I'll come and you'll tell me what to do next. Okay?"

"Deal."

Harry nodded then asked, "Why did you study the mind?"

"Because my grandfather, George, died from a…plague of the mind," Henry said. "He lost his memory and his magic became almost non-existent. Charlus' grandfather, Leonius, died from something very similar."

After a pause, Harry asked, "How does the mind help with being good at magic?"

"The answer is a long one."

Harry shrugged. "I got time."

Henry chuckled. "You have time. And the simplest answer is a clear mind allows you to perform spells properly. Of course, a certain emotion is required to perform certain spells. However, for most spells, if you're angry, agitated, or excited in any way even the simplest of spells can be more potent than they would be when your mind is at ease. On the other hand, if you're sad, anxious, depressed, you may very well be unable to produce the magic."

As Henry stirred orange liquid, Harry said "Unable to produce? Like it just won't come out?"

Henry inclined his head. "Yes. Then there's mental fortitude. Not just a clear mind, but mental strength and intelligence." Henry poured water into the cauldron. "The mind that suffers the Confundus Charm or the Imperius Curse for long periods of time will see its magic suffer. On the other hand, a fortified mind, one brimming with youth and knowledge and peace and protection, will see its magic improve. Non verbal magic will be more potent in addition to being easier to produce. Wandless magic will be easier. Fewer accidents will happen."

Harry nodded. "Ok, but what's occ – err – "

"Occlumency," Henry said. "It's protection of the mind against invasion; legilimency is the art of invading an open mind." Henry leaned back to look at Harry. "You have said things and avoided the eyes of people. Why?"

"Because they all knew when I was lying and Reg told me not to look people in the eyes so much."

Henry nodded. "Yes, I admire your audacity, but given your age and lack of protection, it can be foolish. No offense."

"But I am offended."

Henry smirked. "Sometimes there is no delicate way to state something. You are all arrogance and audacity. Fearless, but also, given your age and ignorance, foolish. You challenge grown men."

"I had to."

"Had to? Why had to?"

Harry nodded. "Apparently I'm a Potter and that's not a good thing to be and it was either be bullied or set them on fire. Looking away can mean respect and I didn't respect them."

Henry sighed. "So long as I am in a room, you don't have to fight those battles anymore." Then he touched Harry's head. "And a Potter is the best thing to be."

••

Elijah Smith

20 June 1986

The day Harry met Elijah Smith, Henry wasn't in the room.

Not at the beginning at least.

Harry had come in from flying, which he'd taken to doing whenever James was out and Henry was no where to be found. On the sofa were two unfamiliar people; a man and a woman.

The man was weedy with blue eyes and an aged face. His white hair was thinning and he had a pot belly. He said something to Harry in English, but Harry, who got the gist of it, didn't care for the word 'foundling,' so he made him work a little harder.

"He doesn't speak English, Daddy. Only French and Latin," Naomi said.

"Do you intend to learn English?" Mrs. Smith – Harry assumed – asked in French. She was a slender woman with the round, blue eyes Naomi possessed.

"No."

Mr. Smith looked amused. "Whyever not? How do you expect to receive an education?"

"By going to schools that teach in Greek and French."

Fleamont looked at him. "Every English Potter has gone to Hogwarts."

Harry shrugged as he walked over to the door. "My birth certificate says France."

"And does it name your mother?" Mrs. Smith asked.

Harry, who was near the door, turned around. He only just managed to stop himself from asking if hers named her mother. Instead, he said, "Yes. Excuse me."

"Where are you going?" Fleamont called.

Harry exhaled. "To the guest room."

"When we have guests we sit and entertain them. It's called manners," Fleamont said.

Harry looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. When he released it, he banished his broom then moved to sit down.

"Which school with a curriculum in Greek do you wish to attend?" Mr. Smith asked.

"Syracuse or Athens."

Naomi laughed. "Those schools are ridiculously hard to get in to."

"For you?" Harry asked. "Probably."

She flushed and seemed stuck, but her father came to her rescue. "You believe you meet the high standards Syracuse and the Palladion set? You have wandered the streets have you not? Children from elite families attend such schools and have excellent recommendations."

Harry sighed. This place was familiar. "I just sent my broom to my room without a wand," he said as the fireplace glowed emerald green. Sirius stepped out of it. "And which Potter wasn't accepted to those schools? I've been to Greece and Great Greece. They love Henry Potter." He sniffed. "What do you know about elite families? I have never heard of Smith."

Sirius looked around the room with raised eyebrows, but he said nothing as Mr. Smith leaned forward.

"You are someone to know names?"

Harry shrugged. "I knew Jalali, Potter, and Lestrange before I met them. I knew Jalili's granddaughter, Shamira, was at Alexandria before we met. I heard of Crouch, Delacour, Bones, Taylor, Graves and Scamander." He sniffed. "I know names. I eat with people who know names. Smith? Who knows Smith? Abraxas never talked about Smith. You know Potter, but I don't know Smith."

Sirius looked around with a grin and amazement on his face. "What the hell is happening here?"

The irate Mr. Smith didn't hear him. "I don't have the pleasure of knowing who your mother and her family are?"

Harry smirked. "Lily Evans is a charms and potions the-o-re-ti-cian. She's the youngest person to sit on some charms committee and the youngest to head a chamber in the mysteries department. James Potter is a transfiguration the-o-re-ti-cian and inventor. Stephanie and Taurus Potter were well-known duelists. One grandfather invented a potion and the other is a dueling champion. My grandmothers are published in herbology and transfiguration. And you know Henry, Laurent, Cassiopeia, and Pollux." Harry grinned. "Who was your mother? Do you have history?"

"We are descendants of Helga Hufflepuff," Naomi snapped.

Harry tilted his head. "Is she your mother?" He shrugged. "I can name Slytherin's descendants and I can tell you who their mothers and fathers are and what they've done." He waved his hand between Sirius and Fleamont. "I can tell you about Nott and Black and Avery. I can't tell you about Smith. Who knows Smith?"

Sirius had the side of his balled hand covering his mouth and Fleamont had his eyes closed.

"Will you not answer the boy, Elijah?" Harry heard Henry ask.

Fleamont bowed his head as the fireplace flashed emerald green once more. James stepped out of it and looked around with interest. He tapped Sirius' shoulders, but Sirius just shooed him away.

When Elijah didn't answer, Henry, who was now beside Harry, said, "Very well, I shall."

Sirius looked as if Christmas had come again.

He looked down at Harry. "The Smiths have been in Kent for centuries. Four hundred I would say? They cannot tell you who their mothers, or fathers, are for their greatest achievement is being the last standing heirs of Helga Hufflepuff. Until now, they haven't married well, but not for lack of trying, but for lack of wealth and notability. Their home was given to them by Abraxas and since losing him they have suffered socially."

"What the hell?" James said.

Henry ignored him as Harry asked, "May I go to my room now?"

"Please."

••

Alexandra Thanos

15 June 1990

"Mr. Potter," Mrs. Ballas called. "A moment of your time, please."

Harry nodded at his friend, Andrei Dolohov. "I'll see you later." They clapped hands and he jogged over to his Transfiguration Theory teacher. "Yes?"

She, a short woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, pointed inside the classroom with her head.

Harry stepped inside to find another woman sitting in one of the desks. She looked a lot like Mrs. Ballas, but her eyes were dark brown.

Mrs. Ballas closed the door. "Harry, this is Professor Alexandra Thanos. Former Head of the Potions Department at Durmstrang and newly minted Deputy Headmistress."

Professor Thanos, who couldn't be that much older than Emmeline, looked at the ceiling. "Thank you, Zoe, for listing my titles." She held out her hand and Harry shook it. He noticed the band under her robes on her left forearm.

Harry pointed at her. "You're the one I saw dueling in Olympia. I thought it was her, but then well…"

"Then well what, Potter?" Mrs. Ballas asked. "What exactly disabused you of the thought?"

Harry held up his hands. "You don't have the thing." When they both narrowed their eyes, he said, "Emmeline Vance is a friend of my father's."

Thanos glanced at Harry's wrist.

He shrugged. "I have a thing and so do you."

"I'm not here to discuss my thing or yours."

Harry snorted.

She brought herself up to her full height and glared down at Harry. She raised her eyebrows when he continued to look amused.

"You're going to have to try harder than that Alex. He's fearless." Mrs. Ballas stood up. "Excuse me."

He and Professor Thanos sat down.

"I'm aware all Potters of Britain have attended Hogwarts, but I have to try."

"I'm open to going elsewhere."

Dumbledore and Simeon would be at Hogwarts. Beauxbatons was his first choice, but he doubted Grindelwald and Dumbledore would allow that. If it came down to it, he'd suffer all the snow in the world before going to Hogwarts.

Plus, Regulus was at Durmstrang.

"I also don't speak English."

Her face lit up. Still she said, "You do speak French." She tossed her hair. "Durmstrang is a true meritocracy and we're not hung up on age. If you're good at eleven, you're good at eleven, and you'll compete internationally at eleven. Professor Morozov, our new Headmaster, and I will be adding an annual potions tournament to go along with the annual dueling and quidditch tournaments for all talented brewers to compete and hone their skills every year."

Harry nodded. That was good news as he wanted to win all three and wanted to be through with them early.

"Just as you would at any other school, we start with the core seven," she said. "Professor Morozov and I are two athletes who attended renown schools, Jixia and here respectively, and we intend to promote the idea of creating well-rounded people. We're building a gymnasium to improve stamina for the dueling program and add creative courses like Arts and Crafts, Magical Design, and Alchemy. We also intend to add additional NEWT level electives."

Harry looked at her in amusement. "Tired of losing charms, potions, and soft arts students to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons?" He breathed a laugh when she sighed. "What electives do you have now?"

"Third year electives are Arithmancy, Old Norse, Care and Creature Control, Divination, and the Study of Ancient Alphabets. Arts and Crafts will be available by your third year."

Harry tilted his head. "Ancient Alphabets?"

"Study of various alphabets, the lore of each letter, and their magical properties. You won't know much of the language, however. It's for students who intend to go into history fields, curse breaking, astronomy, and such."

He gaped for a moment then asked, "Fifth year electives?"

"Alchemy, International Law and Politics, here we will implement the language block," she said. "An Introductory Healing course that will, so far, be acknowledged as a grade by Alexandria, Delphi, Nalanda, and the Imperial School – "

Harry held up his hands. "Sold."

"You promise?"

He nodded.

She smirked and then went onto to tell him about how the school operated. How he'd be given to an advisor who would guide him through his seven years. How he'd have his own bedroom and his academic success would determine how big it was.

"What do the – err…"

"The realms are basically a representation of the realms surrounding the school," she said. "We don't put as much stock in them as Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, but children of Nidavellir and Alfheim tend to be creators and inventors. They like to work with their hands. Students of Vanaheim are typically herbologists and potioneers. Healers, too. Those of us belonging to Jotunheim, Hel, and Muspelheim are said to be unhinged." She shrugged. "I never saw evidence of it."

Harry tilted his head. "Aren't Professors Karkaroff and Black in the world of fire?"

"Black doesn't count."

They spoke of advanced classes. Then they spoke of all the perks and expectations that came with being a top student of a year.

By the end of their conversation he was content.

"I'll see you next year September," she said as they shook hands.

"Can't wait."

••

Generalists

31 May 1991

"What do you plan to do next?" Grindelwald asked.

They were in a dining room on the first floor where the walls were mostly arched windows with golden frames. The spaces between were lilac and, in every other space, was a golden sconce. The ceiling, in pastel paint, was a mural of two young men, a blond and a redhead, sitting on the back steps of a familiar cottage. The village it was set in was also familiar to Harry.

On the rectangular table was rouladen accompanied by potato dumplings, red cabbage, and red wine.

"Oh – err – I was thinking about becoming the youngest to win."

Grindelwald raised his eyebrows. "Win what exactly?"

"Everything. The tourneys," Harry corrected. "I'll settle for not being the youngest for the potions thing, but I want dueling and the Triwizard."

"Thirteen and fourteen," Grindelwald replied. "Worthy – and difficult – goals to have." He cut into his beef roll. "You have the advantage of knowing Bartemius Crouch and a number of Blacks and Rosiers in addition to every living adult Potter. My opponents were old. Not unskilled," he said in response to Harry's raised eyebrows.

Harry nodded with a frown.

"I would suggest you follow the Art of Dueling to a T," Grindelwald said. "Protective, defensive, offensive in that order. You have very little hope of doing anything with conjuration, but, if you sit down with your father for transformation, you can very well add that to your repertoire." He picked up his glass. "As for the Triwizard Tournament…it isn't a competition for the academic. It's for the unconventional."

Harry chewed his cabbage. "Thank you, but I already knew that. I do know a bunch of winners after all."

Grindelwald stared at him. "You're welcome," he drawled.

"What I don't know is why you're better than almost everyone else?"

"Why didn't you ask your great-grandfather?"

Harry picked up his wine glass. "I did. He told me to read, practice, and exercise control and strength of mind."

"And yet?"

"I don't think he ever considered it beyond that and I know that's not the end all," Harry said. "He's not humble, but he's not arrogant enough to ever think about the whys."

Grindelwald raised his eyebrows. "You believe me to be arrogant?"

"Annoyingly so." Harry grinned. "Bartemius, Bella, and Snape did that and have that, but I think Henry and Fatin would still give them a hard time. Today."

"They would," Grindelwald said. "Your grandfather is a generalist who is quick with his tool and can perform any spell at a level that is better than the majority of society. Snape, Black, and Crouch are largely specialists. Snape is less so, but not so quick. His advantage is his mind. He loses that against Black and Crouch, to say nothing of Henry, who are all quicker."

Harry tilted his head.

"I suspected Fatin and Henry would give us the hardest time, so I studied them." Grindelwald said. "I wasn't incorrect," he spat with a finger on an old scar that blemished his jaw. "Even with the Blacks running their mouths and Henry being hundreds of years old, he still managed to make me miserable. The hell are you sitting at my table grinning for?"

Harry continued to grin. "I thought he did that," he said with a wave at his own jaw.

"Yes, and then I split his face open."

"That was unkind to do to someone you admire."

Grindelwald curled his lip.

Harry raised his glass, tilted it, then took a swig. "So I have to be fast, unconventional, and…arrogant, too." He shrugged. "Every arrogant wizard I know is also good at magic. Well, except the Malfoys, but I don't think they can read." He tilted his head. "What comes first?"

"Arrogance."

He stuck a fork in cabbage. "And when you say 'perform a spell at a level better than the majority of society' you mean like making a Summoning Charm look like a conjuration?"

"Yes," Grindelwald said. "Shields able to block even vile curses. The ability to conjure heavier, larger, and/or hundreds of items at once. Advanced magic is one thing, but can you light thousands of candles at once while leaving one thousand more unlit in the same area? Can you light every other candle in this room?"

Harry snapped his fingers. Every other candle came to life.

"You, too, are annoyingly arrogant." Grindelwald tapped the table. "I'm equally surprised and pleased by the direction of this conversation." He nodded. "You've grown in these last five years. Albus told me to leave you be, but I knew, with my firm hand, I could guide you away from being an unambitious, undisciplined, and disorderly child."

Harry paused for a moment for 'firm hand' brought back unpleasant memories. "I'm thankful for your guidance and forever indebted," he drawled.

"That you are."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I've already chosen death and I have a number of ways to achieve it. I don't want to be one of your night assassins."

"I know not what you mean, but that is an excellent name for a group of individuals who murder when the sun goes down," Grindelwald said. "If I had such a group, I would be of the same opinion as Tom: you're not suited for such a position."

Harry sighed.

"I looked at the written answers on your exams," Grindelwald continued. "I've spent the past two years reading through your assignments and have heard of your ridiculous questions." He cleared his throat. "I believe you are more suited to answering those questions than leading an army or heading a territory."

Harry looked at him. "Not that I want to be a Head of State or a general anymore than I want to be a theoretician, but how much of my unsuitability is – "

"Tom Riddle was an ambitious, disciplined and orderly child," Grindelwald interrupted. "He never cared to sit idle, tinker, or think. An excellent student and a fantastic wizard, but he was so because he wanted to take over. He never cared to advance magic beyond its state unless it benefited him.

"You are the opposite…" He narrowed his eyes. "Yet not at all dissimilar. I may have misjudged you," Grindelwald said. "You lacked discipline and order, but you have never been entirely unambitious."

Harry smiled. "That's what – err – your friend told you, isn't it. What did he say?" In clear English, he did his best Albus Dumbledore impression. "'To involve yourself would be to give him the very tools he lacks. Once he, at your knee, has acquired and sharpened those tools, he will be everything Tom Riddle wants him to be and everything Tom Riddle lacks.'"

The two stared at each other.

"Are you going to threaten me now?" Harry's smile became a smirk. "If it makes you feel any better, you'll be dead before my tools are as sharp as they need to be and there are five people ahead of you on my 'To Kill' list."

Grindelwald tilted his head. "You want me dead? Such a thing to admit in my home at my table eating my food."

Harry continued to smirk. "No less than you want me dead."

Again they stared at each other.

"I have grown past that desire," Grindelwald said. "You are still more useful alive than dead."

Harry nodded. "And you are more useful to me alive…if that makes you feel better." He shrugged. "You know, I could move past the feeling if you give me my house and cane back."

He met Grindelwald's eyes with all the audacity he possessed.

"You understand which school you are to choose tomorrow?"

Harry tilted his head. "If I choose Beauxbatons, I can go, but if I choose Durmstrang, I get the house and cane?"

Grindelwald just continued to stare at him.

Harry nodded. "Fine."

"Draco Malfoy will be there as well."

Harry started.

"You are to keep your hands to yourself."

Harry smirked.

Grindelwald, faster than Harry thought possible, reached out to snatch his collar. "Do not touch him."

"And if he touches me?"

"Do. Not. Touch. Him."

Harry snorted. "I'm still not afraid to die."

••

The Wandmaker

1 June 1991

He was at a crossroads.

Literally.

He found himself standing in the center of an intersection. A road, clear as day, was behind him and a road in front of him was shrouded in darkness. He turned to his left to see Grindelwald standing down that road. His blue eyes seemed to radiate power. At his right was Tom Riddle with flashing, red eyes.

He looked from his left to his right and back again. He looked behind him, but found that road no longer existed. He looked at the two men again. They were now inching closer to him. Without another moment's hesitation, he ran straight into the darkness.

He ran and he ran, but the darkness didn't let up. Eventually, he stopped and placed his hands on his knees. All he could make out were his feet and the road underneath.

A hand touched his shoulder, so he spun around –

Suddenly, he was at the bottom of a tall mountain. He stood in front of a set of steps that had been carved out of the stone. One side rolled downward while the other moved upward to a thick cloud of mist. It swirled around the mountain until it revealed an enormous castle built out of it.

Down the steps walked a beautiful woman with braids that went straight back. She had flawless, dark skin and wore vibrant, yellow robes.

She stopped in front of him.

"Congratulations. We hope you join us, but we wish you luck in your endeavors regardless."

She grabbed his hand to place something in it. With the other she touched his forehead.

Harry woke up with a gasp. He looked around to find he was on the sofa at Fleamont's house. He stretched and felt something in his hand. It was an inscribed, stone slab.

He sat up and stretched with a yawn. A few moments passed with him still in a haze, but he eventually got to his feet and headed to the dining room.

A stack of envelopes was beside the plate of his usual seat. "Good morning," he said as he made his way to it.

"Uagadou makes eleven," Henry said. "Well done."

"Thank you."

He said before picking up a purple envelope. It's seal was golden and in the shape of a phoenix in a triangle. After looking his grades over, he turned to Charlus, who was entering the room. "Can I get my wand?"

Henry cleared his throat.

Charlus stopped. "Good morning."

"Already said that. You're late. Can I get my wand?"

Again, Henry cleared his throat.

Charlus sat beside Harry. "Good morning, Grandson. Are you well, Henry?"

"Good morning, Grandpa Charlie. Can I get my wand?"

Suddenly, the parchment in Harry's hand was snatched out of it.

"Were those your grades?" Charlus asked.

"Yes. All you had to do was ask," Harry said to Henry. "Could've cut me then I would've died."

Charlus shifted to look at him. "From a parchment cut?"

"Infection! Then the sepsis and sepsis shock. Did you see how fast he snatched it? He could have cut an artery."

Charlus laughed at him. "You're so dramatic." Still laughing, he turned to Henry. "How did he do?"

Henry blew out a breath and handed the parchment to Charlus.

"New records set in Astronomy, Dark Arts, and Charms. Fourth best score? Potions. Worst score?" Charlus said as Harry laughed. "Transfiguration. But nothing out of the ninety-ninth percentile."

He turned back to the stack of envelopes. He looked for, grabbed, and subsequently opened the package from Durmstrang. A silver, hard-cover book was inside. In the center was a red shield with a double-headed eagle. Overhead, in blood red lettering, was DURMSTRANG. Underneath was VINCERE EST TOTUM.

He opened the book. The first page was a portrait of a long, four story castle built on a rock and surrounded by water. The second page had words in dark red ink:

Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you you've been invited to attend Durmstrang Institute this fall. To accept, please sign your name on the dotted line at the bottom of this page.

In the event you accept, please keep this book as it will make everyone's life easier.

We hope you join us and wish you luck on your educational journey.

Deputy Headmistress,

Alexandra Thanos

Harry pulled out a quill from his bag. The Quill-Pen was an invention of his father's where an ink tube had been pushed down the shaft of the feather. According to James, it was an idea born out of 'pillow talk' with Lily.

He met Henry's eyes until Henry closed his own. He then signed his name on the dotted line. The ink glowed then the book shivered. The invitation slid out and the words on it changed.

"Eight hundred and forty-one years the Potters of England have attended Hogwarts," Charlus said. "Eight hundred and forty-one years down the drain in a second. I can't believe it."

Harry gripped his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'd go to Beauxbatons if I could."

Charlus snorted then moved his shoulder. "Get off me."

Harry smiled then turned back to the book.

Welcome to Durmstrang Institute, Mr. Potter.

This is your portkey, which will be active on the 18th of August. Simply hold it between your fingers and state your full name. We ask that you arrive no later than 18:45. During the Welcoming Feast, the Sacred Tree will choose your adviser, who will guide you for the duration of your time at Durmstrang.

Look at the index to find your supply list. Your schedule will be added no later than the 1st of August. Do check this book whenever it glows for you will have received a message from myself, your adviser, or, on occasion, the Headmaster.

Durmstrang prides itself on being a meritocracy. Each student under an advisor is much like a team. You will work individually and as a unit for each tournament. All students under the advisor of the student or team who wins a tournament receive perks and rewards. The top five students of each year earn other rewards and perks. The better the number, the better the reward.

Good luck and, again, welcome.

Deputy Headmistress,

Alexandra Thanos

Harry flipped to his supply list.

First Year Supply List:

1.Uniform

· Five plain, blood red work robes with name tags. Students are advised to request heating charms, purchase wool, or have an additional wool set

· 2-3 winter cloaks. Plain, blood red cloaks with matching fastenings.

· Protective gloves

2.Reading Material

· Basic Charms by Jane Schmidt

· A Study in Transformation by Gerwulf Neuer

· The Old Gods Vols. 1 and 2 by Bathilda Bagshot

· Legends in the Sky by Carina Aurvandill

· Astronomy for Beginners by Rigel Taurinus

· What Dwells in the Dark by Erick Jorgensen

· Common Herbs and Fungi by Agatha Jakobsen

· The Art of Dueling by Gunnar Ironside

· Monsters of the Dark by Yami Daku

· Introduction to Brewing for the Young Potioneer by Ulla Virtanen

Students may purchase their books through their local bookstores.

3.Tools

· 1 Wand

· 1 Cauldron (Standard Size 3)

· 2 sets of crystal or glass vials

· 1 set of scales

· 4 rolls of parchment

· Ink and quills

· Students may bring 1 common pet

Harry gaped at the reading material. There were two books for almost every class and he'd bet the ones for Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions were huge.

"Hell of a list," Charlus said. He copied the parchment with his wand. "I'll make the order while you're getting your robes."

Harry heard footsteps and, just to keep the peace, he placed the envelopes in his backpack.

Naomi and James entered the dining room.

"Morning," James said. He glanced at the purple envelope by Simeon's seat then looked at Harry.

Charlus leaned forward with an excited grin as Harry shook his head.

James, after a bemused smile at Charlus, looked at the parchment. It took him a while to lower it, but when he did his scowl was thunderous.

Harry smiled and Charlus outright laughed.

"You're such a disappointment," James said whispered furiously. "I labored. I gave you book after book. I carefully and patiently explained things and what did you do?" He waved the parchment around. "How could you?"

Harry blew him a kiss.

Naomi turned to James, who smiled at her as folded the parchment to place in his pocket.

No one said a word to Naomi or Simeon, whose own scores were impressive. Both tried to 'subtly' bait Harry into revealing his own, but, and only because Charlus swore he'd get the new Nimbus, Harry didn't bite.

An hour later, Harry, James, Naomi, and Charlus entered Ollivander's.

A chubby girl with curly, brown hair was getting her wand. Her father, a tall man with wavy, brown hair and blue eyes, curled his lip. Her mother, a blonde with hazel eyes, met Harry's eyes.

Harry didn't know this woman, but she looked familiar. He looked at her and her husband's left arms, but they both wore short sleeves.

Hmm.

She smiled and held out her hand. "Angelina Greengrass, Mr. Potter."

"Oh. Astoria." He shook the hand.

Mrs. Greengrass inclined his head. "Between her, my sister, and my cousin, I've heard a lot about you. After listening to my sister-in-law and mother-in-law, I believe you're also the Evans boy my nephew speaks about. He'll be disappointed to hear you will be up north."

Harry frowned. "Who?"

"Zoe, Alexandra, and Cassius."

"Small world."

Her daughter came over and she introduced them. Daphne had a pretty, round-shaped face and her father's blue eyes.

As Simeon stepped forward she said, "My sister thinks you're a god."

Harry held up his hands. "Well."

"I expected the great Harry Potter to be taller."

"He is," Harry assured, "and the greatest Harry Potter will be taller one day, too."

Charlus looked at him out of equal amounts of amusement and exasperation.

James laughed out loud.

"Cute," her father said.

Harry grinned. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Greengrass opened his mouth then shook his head. "I won't get into a war of words with you. I'm a grown man "

Mrs. Greengrass patted his arm. "Wise, dear."

They said their goodbyes with Daphne waving and blushing at Simeon. Naomi smiled at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

These things didn't matter to him and if they did he'd remember Mrs. Delacour insisting Harry sit by her daughter and nieces; Mrs. Prewett making sly comments about her own granddaughter; and Laurent, who definitely aspired to unite Potter and Rosier again.

"I hope you're everything my sister wants you to be," Mrs. Greengrass said. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

Charlus looked at him. "Who is her sister?"

"The Alexandra Thanos on the parchment you have in your pocket. Deputy-Headmistress of Durmstrang," Harry said. "We spoke last June."

Charlus narrowed his eyes. "You want to go to Durmstrang."

Harry stuck out his tongue.

After Simeon got his wand, alder and dragon-hearstring, which seemed to please Naomi, Harry stepped forward.

"Mr. Harry Potter," Mr. Ollivander said. He had curly, white hair and pale eyes that reminded Harry of the moon. "I've heard the whispers and know all the rumors and had hoped you'd come to me."

Harry stepped closer and a measuring tape sprang up. It measured his height, the length of his shoulders to the floor, the length of his shoulder to his hand, and the lengths of his upper arm, his forearm, and hand.

"Every Ollivander wand contains a dragon heartstring, a phoenix feather, or unicorn hair. But no two wands are just alike for no two dragons, phoenixes, or unicorns are just alike."

"What happens if the hair is from the same unicorn? And why only those three cores?"

As he walked to the back, Mr. Ollivander said, "The tree, the length, and the human they choose will also be different. But wands with cores from the same animal are 'brothers.' They will refuse to battle if forced. And those cores because they are the only ones that give wands sufficient power and adequate stability."

"How many woods?"

"Twenty-three in total, but I have more of some woods than others," he said as he returned. In his hand was a dark brown wand that looked to be longer than his arm. "For instance, I have more walnut than acacia, but less so than English oak for it's common, but on the pickier side." He stroked the wand in his hand. "Walnut and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches, swishy."

Harry took the wand but it was snatched back almost immediately.

"No, not that one." Harry frowned and Mr. Ollivander tutted. "A walnut does not determine your intelligence. You may still be so without one."

Harry nodded. "What do they determine?"

"Potential, but you need not follow it to the letter. That is to say you need not limit yourself to the gifts a wand enhances," he explained. "Most wand quirks and abilities matter little to wizards with sufficient skill." He held out a wand. "Ebony and unicorn hair, ten and a half inches, bendy."

That was snatched back, too, and Harry felt a little disappointed. He'd wanted an ebony, but, could admit, he wasn't all that much of a nonconformist.

"So – err – are some wands more powerful than others?"

"Have you considered Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I'm going to Durmstrang. If I was going to Hogwarts, I'd choose Ravenclaw if I could."

James made a noise Harry ignored.

Mr. Ollivander stopped in front of Harry with a dark wood wand in his hand. "Yes, some wands are more powerful than others."

"Why?"

"Wood quirks are a reason. Some woods lack range. Walnut and pine will do whatever the wizard wants while apple will struggle with the Dark Arts. And, of course, some wands are more inclined to certain specialties. The core is another reason," Mr. Ollivander said. "Dragon heartstring wands are naturally more powerful than phoenix and unicorn hair wands. However, the range of the phoenix core and the consistency of the unicorn hair level the playing field."

Harry stepped closer and lowered his voice. "And the woods? Are some woods just naturally more powerful?"

He, of course, knew the answer to that question, but he wanted to know – to see if the fairytale was myth or legend.

"Yes," Mr. Ollivander said. He absentmindedly tapped the wand in his hand and bounced on his feet.

Harry stepped closer. "And…has there ever been a wand – a wood and core combination – that was more powerful than any other?"

Mr. Ollivander exhaled. "If I say no, what will you do?"

Harry smiled. "Find someone who'll tell me yes, but I think you just did."

"There were rumors," Mr. Ollivander said. "They were spread by Gregorovitch, who swore he had the wand just a century ago. Those rumors stopped not long after." He sighed. "I was told – and can see the truth for myself – that you are curious and intelligent. My father told me often that curiosity needs a healthy dose of caution. Curiosity killed the cat after all."

Harry shook his head with a smile on his face. "Care killed the cat and I'm not worried."

"You're playing a dangerous game." Mr. Ollivander hesitated before holding out the wand. "Blackthorn and phoenix feather, thirteen inches, supple."

Harry took the wand in his hands and felt an immediate warmth in his fingertips. It spread to his hand then through his whole body. Blue, white, and gold sparks erupted from the tip.

"Bravo," Mr. Ollivander said. He clapped. "Bravo."

James paid for the wand while Charlus watched Harry through narrowed eyes.

"What was that about?"

Harry shook his head.

As they left the shop, James asked, "What's the wand?"

"Blackthorn and phoenix feather."

Naomi hummed. Everyone except James ignored her.

"Ianus," Charlus said. "Fitting."

Harry looked at him.

"Blackthorn produces its sweet berries after a hard frost," he explained. "Its mythology is a symbol of protection in times of strife and devastation, but also a source of pure malevolence. Fitting for the god of doorways; of beginnings and endings. Fitting for Harry James Potter."