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.

4. Volant

Volant

Demanding Professors

16 September 1991

Harry had taken to running in the mornings. As he knew only a few people and many of his peers sniffed at the name 'Potter,' he ran alone.

"One more lap," Thanos said one morning when he was finished.

"What?" he said. "My legs hurt."

She shrugged. "One more lap and do your best to keep your speed." When Harry looked at her in disbelief, she snapped her fingers. "Let's go. I'm not letting you out of here until you do it."

So he did the extra lap. When he finished, he bent over and clutched his sides. When he straightened, Thanos handed him a bottle of water.

"Do that everyday," she said. "If you don't, I'll know."

As he drank the water, he glared at her. "I came here to learn magic. Not to be bullied into running again."

She smirked. "Too bad." She spun on her heel. "See you later, Potter."

Later that morning, after a shower, breakfast, and Herbology, Veen collected their assignments.

"I rarely ask for written work," he said. "The times I do will concern the overall theme; sub-branch we're zeroing in on and will take a month or two to complete. You will, however, read a lot. Most will be books concerning the spell of the week. Two or three at most on the theory and the practical."

He then handed out feathers.

"Today, of course, we will begin with the Levitation Charm," he said. "You will begin with the feather. If you, as an individual, levitate the feather with adequate precision, you will then move on to another heavier and/or larger object. Much like what happens in Professor Winter's transfiguration classes. If you reach a certain level today and Wednesday, you won't have any more reading to do. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "Begin."

Harry went through the feather, pen, and book with ease. He did have to spend the rest of the class working on the tomb and jug of water. They had been difficult at first. Not lifting, but controlling them.

At the end of class Veen nodded at him. Harry took note of the pleasure in his eyes. "If there aren't any spells on your trunk, practice with it in your room. Once you have that down, you can call yourself average at the spell."

"And to be a master?"

"Cast it with speed and precision. That is to say, a master will not need to think and be so deliberate. The ease will be natural," Veen said. "It takes time and practice."

After lunch, they went to potions. It was the last class they hadn't done any practical work in, but, if the syllabi was anything to go by, Thanos and Veen had similar timelines.

So it wasn't at all surprising when she had the recipe for the Cure for Alopecia on the board. They spent some time dissecting the recipe then they set to work.

When Harry was dicing gooseberry, Thanos stopped beside him. She didn't say a word, so Harry kept cutting. That was until Rolf snickered.

Harry looked at him then looked up at her.

She had a look of disgust on her face.

"What?"

"Potter…why the hell do you cut so slow?" she asked in Latin.

He straightened. "I'm being precise."

"Be speedy with precision. You want to participate in the Potions Tournament? You have to improve," she said. "Yes, it will ruin your potions, but the only way to get better is to practice." She snapped her fingers. "Faster."

Harry resumed his dicing, but at a greater pace.

"Faster," she said in German.

He looked up. "You want me to chop off my fingers?"

"There's no poison in the knife," she said. "We can regrow them."

Harry rolled his eyes and diced quickly. His fruit was a mess and he grumbled to himself as Thanos walked away.

But she came back time after time to criticize much to the enjoyment of everyone else.

"Fine dust, Potter. Fine. Not chunks."

"These pieces look even to you, Potter?"

"Stir with care, Potter. The ingredients are already dead. I promise."

Harry bore it, though, with sighs and an occasional eye roll.

Whatever.

"That was an excellent class," Rai chirped. He grinned at Harry.

Someone snorted and Harry curled his lip at Malfoy.

"How's transfiguration going for you, Rai?"

"As well as your cutting, Potter."

Harry made a face. "That sucks for you, mate, but cutting is manual. I can't not get better. Can you get that spell?"

Mafalda giggled. "That's mean, Harry."

Harry rolled his shoulders. The only people who cut well were Malfoy, Aello, and Rolf, but everyone was too happy to care for a Professor was finally criticizing Harry.

Except Rolf.

"What was your potions score? On the exam?" he asked.

"Why?"

Mafalda leaned forward. "Veen said he's fifth all-time."

"Fourth."

Rolf nodded. "She wants you to win the tourney." He looked at Mafalda. "Stop looking so relieved. She's making him better for third or fifth year."

Harry snorted. If he could be done with potions and dueling by the end of third year, he'd be ecstatic.

"Potter!"

Harry turned around to Thanos and she held up a finger. Rolf looked at Harry, but he shook his head. "I'll see you later."

He waited for her as the hall cleared then they walked together.

She smirked at him. "You bore that well enough."

He looked at her in amusement. "You're light work."

She held up his left wrist. "Am I?"

He nodded.

"Professor Karkaroff tells me he owns your Saturdays."

"And I take Sundays off. Please."

She nodded. "As deputy, I have very few classes even with the extra class I took on this year," she said, "but I have plenty of free time. Would you be willing to give me three hours Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

Harry nodded. "I can do that. I think."

••

Hook, Line, Sinker

30 September 1991

Two weeks later, Harry sat in front of Veen, who stood in front of his desk facing the class.

"I must say I'm pleased. The last set of first years I taught handed me unsatisfactory assignments all year long," Veen said. "And while you all did, at least, adequately, one of you, as always, stood out."

Mafalda sighed. Malfoy shot Harry a nasty look. Harry winked back.

Veen picked up a scroll and unfurled it. "Listen and learn how to improve yourselves." He cleared his throat. "Locomotive magic refers to all magic that makes an object move from one place to another. From the Hover Charm to the Body Moving Spell. All locomotive spells are naturally charms, standard or dark. Spells like the Jelly Legs Curse fall under movement, but not locomotive. On the other hand, the Attacking Spell always makes objects go from one place to another, so it is locomotive."

Mafalda nudged Harry. "Attacking?" she whispered.

"Point at the object then at the target. Incantation: Oppugno."

"The history of locomotive charms points in one direction," Veen continued. "Flying. Their original purpose was to make a body fly from one point to another. They've all failed."

He then continued to read the rest of Harry's paper, which highlighted a number of spells and spoke on why they failed.

"This is my favorite part," Veen said. "Wholly unnecessary, but delightful to read all the same."

He had enjoyed writing it and was glad it was appreciated.

"Their failure is, obviously, in the incantations. No one has ever asked magic to make a human body fly. However, I don't believe humans flying unaided needs an incantation," Veen read. "I think if we set our minds to it, we can do it. We are possessors of magic. Before we had a wand and learned wandless magic was difficult, we could get what we wanted with magic by will. By way of a strong, clear mind and force of will, we as magic possessors should be able to lift ourselves into the air and take off."

Veen stopped reading and looked around. "That is the shortest paper I was given, but is the best amongst them. It hits everything I asked for and then some without dragging and with only one off tangent at the end."

He sent the parchment to Harry then handed out the rest.

Veen had stopped looking at Harry with suspicion after their first class of practical work. He'd taken to looking at Harry with excitement. Today, though, he looked at Harry like Henry had when he'd seen his exam scores.

Later that evening, Harry sat in the library flipping through a book on devil's snare.

The library was a large, two-story area full of cherry wood and red seats. Harry was on the second floor sequestered between the windows and bookcases. Still, Rolf managed to find him.

He sat down and exhaled. "I want to sit at the table."

Harry bowed his head in acknowledgment of his words.

"Can you help me?"

Harry closed the book. "Thank Merlin. I was tired of reading that." He stretched. "What would you like help with?"

"Well Mafalda already told me about telling the difference between sub-branches. I have some questions you should be able to answer."

Harry nodded.

"Do you think anti spells are protective? Some people disagree with Waffling's theory."

"I only disagree with his placement of the Shield Charm. I do think anything meant to prevent is protective, so yeah."

Rolf asked him a few more theoretical questions before saying, "How did you write your assignment. Mafalda said you picked a topic?"

"That wasn't on purpose, but yeah." He paused then said., "The jobberknoll – err – I'll talk about the bird and maybe tell the differences between it and other magical birds. Then, because this is potions, I'd talk about truth serums and memory potions."

Rolf nodded. "Talk about the difference and similarities between the two then go into individual potions."

"Yes."

"Thanks!"

Harry nodded. "I'm here anytime. Oh, and if you ever want a friend who also likes herbology, I have someone for you."

Rolf rolled his eyes. "Yeah?"

Harry nodded. "Uh huh. He loves gardening so bloody much he got one of the best scores ever in the subject. My grandmother loves him."

Rolf laughed. "Whatever."

••

Tests

10 October 1991

The spectators on the ground watched as Harry and Viktor turned from two specs in the cloudless sky to two madmen on brooms. Together they dove down to the lake and, almost in unison, yanked their broom handles up. Their feet skimmed the water, creating waves.

The pair grinned at each other as they left the shouts of students by the lake behind. They slowed down as they turned on the brooms, flying sideways until they neared a set of doors.

Viktor Krum was a fourth year from Bulgaria. He was as awkward on the ground as he was graceful on a broom. Walking now, he was slouching a little and his feet were 'duck-footed.' Harry wondered if he was that awkward and often found himself straightening his posture whenever the thought crossed his mind.

"I heard Karkaroff won't let you fly?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we have other plans." When Viktor looked at him, he said, "Dueling."

Viktor wasn't allowed to play either, but for an entirely different reason: he was in the Vratsa Vultures' academy.

"I want to be the youngest to win the tourney."

Viktor touched his forehead. "You'll have to get through Heimir. She's the best in the school."

Harry sighed. "I'll deal with this faceless person with ease as I do with all the face-full people."

"So confident."

Harry grinned at him.

They neared a staircase and Viktor banished his broom. He subsequently summoned his backpack. "I have to go finish some work."

Harry raised a hand. He had to go to Karkaroff.

They separated on the staircase with Viktor heading down to the ground floor.

Harry headed off to the world of fire where he dropped his bag off in his room, which, because he was a top student, was large and cozy. It had a full, soft yet firm bed and an adjoining bathroom. The temperature was always moderate, never too hot or cold unless he commanded otherwise.

He tossed his broom on his bed and grabbed a bottle of cold water an elf had left in his room for Karkaroff's office.

"You've never offered to help us like this," he heard Deimos say. "I'm a better duelist than him."

"I'm not your advisor," Karkaroff told him, "and you're only a better duelist by virtue of being older. Do you not have an honorary uncle in this castle? Go badger him."

Someone made a noise of frustration. It was Phobos." Our grandfather – "

"Isn't here and I'm not beholden to him. Your family is full of excellent duelists." Karkaroff chuckled. "I know a number of Rosiers have taught Potter. If they're willing to teach him surely they'll give their time to their own flesh and blood."

Harry blew out a breath and eased into the dueling room. He could acknowledge he was, at present, only better than them in theory. He was in no mood to see his life flash before his eyes today.

"He's going to kill you," Harry heard Deimos say.

"For teaching his favorite boy how to duel? For educating the child he'd called the future. Your fathers allow you to believe your blood makes you superior while bending their knees – "

Bang!

"You're a talented student, Rosier, but a student nonetheless," Karkaroff drawled, "and you will pay for the attempt."

Almost ten minutes passed before Karkaroff entered the dueling room. His nostrils were flared and his lip were thin.

"I can come back tomorrow," Harry suggested before Karkaroff could say a word.

Karkaroff stared at him. "Are you afraid?"

"Of an angry, ex Death Eater who wants to throw curses at me? No, of course not, but I've been there, done that, and it's still keeping me up at night."

Karkaroff bared his teeth. "On the platform," he spat. "Now!"

Oh, boy.

Harry slashed his wand through the air before turning to face his opponent for Karkaroff was already twirling his.

After an hour of being tossed around, Harry sat in an armchair opposite Karkaroff in the latter's office.

Karkaroff pulled out a parchment from desk. "This is a list of defensive spells you ought to familiarize yourself with now. It's time to move on from protection."

Harry looked the list over. "Come back next Saturday?"

Karkaroff just stared at him.

Harry rolled his eyes in response. "Thanks and have a great evening."

"Watch your back," Karkaroff told him. "Walk quickly, but not so quick that you fail to take note of your surroundings."

Harry stopped with his hand on the door knob. The proper thing to do would be to walk him to his bedroom, but this was a test. So Harry just nodded. "Thanks for the reminder."

He had forgot.

"Goodnight, sir."

"Good luck, Potter."

Harry didn't walk all that fast. A little faster than normal, but he tended to stroll, especially in this section of the castle. His wand was in his hand, but covered by his sleeve. Initially, he met a number of students on his way back to his bedroom, so when he realized he'd walked through a few deserted corridors he tightened his grip on his wand.

He turned down a corridor and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Harry spun on his heel while slashing his wand. "Munio."

An invisible spell hit the blue shield, which shivered on impact. Not a second later did it spit double the spells back out towards the persons who cast them. Harry dropped the shield and hurried away, leaving the twins screaming and withering on the floor.

Harry got back to his room and examined his wand with Diana on his lap. It felt warm to the touch and, maybe it was his imagination, but it appeared to be humming. The song put him at ease and Harry felt a burst of something akin to confidence.

"What the hell?"

••

Flying Without Wings

11 October 1991

"Did you lot hear?" Mafalda said the next morning.

"What?" Rolf said.

Andrei, with his eyes on Harry, said, "About the twins?"

They were in the Banquet Hall. Harry had chosen to sit with his year mates or Viktor whenever Andrei or Mia sat with theirs. Today, Andrei followed him.

"Who are the twins?" Rolf asked.

Harry grinned at him. "No one."

Mafalda huffed and rolled her eyes. "Phobos and Deimos Rosier. Third years. They got in trouble yesterday. Apparently they attacked someone and were found screaming 'cause their own spells rebounded. I wonder who they attacked."

"It wasn't me," Andrei said. "They'd never attack Draco and I doubt he could win. Krum, Juaquin, and Saxena wouldn't keep such things to themselves. Where were you, Harry?"

Harry laughed. "With Karkaroff."

"Liar," Andrei said. "How d'you do it?"

"The Fortifier," Harry said. "It's a shield that spits the spell back out from whatever direction it came."

Andrei sighed. "You're going to be a fuckin' problem and if you embarrass me I'll hurt you."

"What?" Mafalda said. "You did it?" she hissed at Harry.

He shook his head as he dipped his spoon in his skyr. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Andrei laughed when Mafalda turned to him.

"I hate you both," she said.

A bird landed in front of Harry, who said, "Who are you after?"

"It came to you," Mafalda said.

Andrei laughed harder when Harry glared at her. "I don't know this bird."

"I imagine you don't know most birds. Does it hurt that you don't know everything?"

Rolf snickered.

Harry flicked his chin at them then turned to the barn owl, who was eating a sausage Rolf had given him. There was a large, yellow envelope tied to its talon. He removed it to find October's edition of Challenges in Charming inside.

Why would someone send it to him?

A translucent, neon yellow sticker stuck out and Harry turned to the page.

Flying Without Wings

By Harry J. Potter

"What?" Mafalda asked when his mouth fell open.

Harry just touched his forehead and looked over the article. It was the essay he'd handed Veen three weeks ago on movement and humanity's failure to do so unaided.

Harry sighed. "Oh my god."

"You're a wizard," Andrei said.

"Oh my Zeus."

Rolf snorted.

"What?" Mafalda asked again.

Harry again ignored her in favor of turning his head to Veen. Veen, to the interest of many, including most professors, tipped his goblet and winked in turn.

"Oh my god."

Andrei sighed. "You're a wizard."

"Oh my – oi!"

Mafalda had grown annoyed enough to snatch the journal out of Harry's hand. "Great Merlin."

"See? A proper witch," Andrei said then he turned to her. "What's going on?" He took the journal from Mafalda. "So it continues."

He tossed it to Rolf, who, much to Harry's surprise, started reading it.

Harry looked away from Andrei and Mafalda. The former was shaking his head and the latter was staring at him, so he bowed his head and ate his skyr with two fingers on his forehead.

"So," Rolf said after a while, "your theory is that we can fly unaided and it doesn't have to be from a spell. So it's like a wandless technique?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, someone in tune with their magic should be able to just lift themselves off the ground."

Rolf frowned and played with his porridge. "How would we get in tune with it?"

"Meditation," Harry answered. "Grandad said you have to be in control of your mind and your magic in order to understand it better. Except for my mother and father, every good witch and wizard I know is good with the mind arts," he said. "While you meditate, try to focus on your magic. It'll also make you more sensitive to it."

"Sensitive?"

Harry nodded. "Your senses are more in tune with it."

"You meditate?" Andrei asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it helps with…other things. And a calm, well-rested mind makes for an excellent wizard. Or so I've been told."

By that afternoon, Mafalda made certain everyone knew Harry Potter had been published. At first he'd been annoyed, but upon seeing the look on Malfoy's face, he grew to appreciate Mafalda's hard work.

"Of course you're published on some bullshit about flying," Regulus said that afternoon. "Congratulations, I suppose."

"Are you going to make us a broom?" Viktor asked when he caught up to Harry.

Harry frowned and slowed until he came to a stop. "I…don't know the first thing about inventing…"

"Well you're with Veen, so I know you know something about movement and there are books that teach how to make basic brooms."

Harry looked at him with a scrunched up face until Viktor waved a hand in front of it. He blinked. He'd have to get to that when he finished with combat magic.

That evening he returned to his room to find a note on his bed and his Durmstrang book glowing on his desk. He opened the dark purple note with Grindelwald's golden symbol as a seal. In heavy-pressured, golden letters it read:

Just under two months in and little Albus is already published. Your fondness for wandless and non-incantation magic is taking you far. It has allowed you to view magic in an unencumbered way.

Remarkable. Well done.

Harry felt a twinge of something he chose to stamp down instead of acknowledging. Still, he placed the note in his backpack where a number of other dark purple notes were.

He found his book was glowing because Morozov wished to speak to him. Friday afternoon at five.

Merlin, help him.

••

The Headmaster

18 October 1991

Harry had received a number of letters over the last week, including one from Adalbert Waffling.

Mr. Harry J. Potter,

Adalbert Waffling here. I hope you don't mind this informal meeting. I do hope to sit down with you one day. Soon. I have heard such interesting whispers and now you're speaking to me directly.

Of course, Harry Potter's great-grandson and namesake believes one only needs his mind and understanding to propel himself into the air. I don't say that because I'm doubtful. In fact, I'm of the opposite opinion. I say it to be snarky. It's a great pastime of mine, taking the mickey out of your grandfather and his superior mind.

I send this note as a form of encouragement. One day in the future, you should put your theory to the test. Theory and hypothesis are nothing without experimentation and discovery demands it. Even if your theory proves incorrect, it will be worthy of your time for knowledge can be gleaned even from failure.

I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Potter. And if you have a question or a theory, I'm available to hear you out. Feel free to send me a note.

Adalbert G. Waffling

The note had left Harry breathless and more than a little excited. He'd sent a short note back almost immediately. It included a question on divination.

The interaction kept him on a high for the rest of the week, easing his nervousness over his meeting with Morozov.

Until Friday afternoon, of course.

Morozov's office was in the center block of the castle and at the very top. Harry had yet to visit that portion of the castle. It wasn't as fascinating as the worlds of fire and death, but it was by far the most beautiful.

The floor was paved with gold that shined. The walls were almost non-existent, but what little there was, was gold, too. There were windows, but they were glass-less. The holes were ceiling-to-floor and arched. Some led to branches of the rainbow bridge. Some had clouds hovering outside it. The ceiling depicted a portrait of the heavens.

"Congratulations, Potter," Thanos said as she past him. "I expect similar results and soon."

Harry snorted.

She stopped and turned slowly on her heel to face him with an eyebrow raised.

"Thanks, but I have nothing for you."

They stared at each other until she raised her chin and relaxed her brow.

"Very well. You are not what I hoped you were."

"The insult won't work 'cause I'm not what I hoped I was either."

She sighed then spun around. "Good day, Potter!"

He laughed. "Have a nice day, Professor."

Harry continued straight ahead until he found himself outside a tall door of solid gold. Etched in gold on a white name plate was HEADMASTER'S OFFICE.

He knocked.

"Come in, Potter."

Morozov's office felt like home. The walls were ivory with golden motifs. The carpet was royal blue. The upholstery was cerulean. Golden objects were scattered around the room.

This office would make the elder Potters long for home, indeed.

"Have a seat."

Morzov sat behind a large, mahogany desk in a tall chair wearing silver robes. Today his white hair framed his face.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Afternoon, Potter." He leaned forward enough to pick up Challenges in Charming. "This was an enjoyable read." He opened it. "'Hobart's mistake was in the intent,'" He read. "'His initial goal was to make things fly and he succeeded, but humans aren't things; its. Humans are hes, shes, thems, and theys. The difference in pronouns is important,'" he continued. "Such analysis from a child two months into his first year. Well done."

Harry exhaled. "Thank you, sir."

Morozov leaned back in his seat. "We've seen improvements this year, but promising charms students rarely attend Durmstrang. There's a belief we're too singularly focused."

Harry attempted to keep his face straight, but, by the look on Morozov's, he'd failed. He, too, had believed Durmstrang to be too singularly focused. Veen and, surprisingly, Karkaroff were the ones changing his mind.

"Given His Majesty's interest in you I believe I know why you slipped through the cracks," he continued, "and, if you allow, I intend to make the most of it."

Harry sat up. He'd expected this to come from Grindelwald, but this turn of events, as surprising as it was, was welcomed. He wasn't surrounded by people who loved charms as a whole. He didn't know if he loved charms in such a way, but it would be nice to explore the subject with someone who did.

"Would you appreciate my assistance?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Morozov inclined his head. "You understand the importance of language, which, I've heard, makes teaching you enjoyable. I was also told your grandfather had you learn the differences between each sub-branch so as to be able to identify them."

"Yes, sir."

"Given that you have a basic understanding of the fundamentals, what you wish to do next is become a master."

Harry tilted his head. "A specialist? I was told not to allow myself to become that."

"Yes, I can see why Henry Potter would say such a thing to his athletic grandson with an interest in dueling, but even he began as a specialist," Morozov answered. "We all did."

Harry nodded. "Okay, so how do I master it?"

"There are a number of ways to go about it. The most common is to just sit down with a sub-branch and comb through it spell by spell; book by book."

Harry wrinkled nose.

"But I speak to an eleven year old with an understanding of the importance of language; who has an interest in becoming a generalist," Morozov said with a nod to Harry's nose. "What you should do is pick a word and explore what that means."

Harry scrunched up his face in thought. "You mean like…" He turned to old faithful. "I would take fire and look at it from the point of view of potions, charms, transfiguration, and astrology?"

"Among other things," Morozov answered. "Yes, but you're eleven with a goal and we speak of charms."

Harry nodded. "Protection, but I'm tired of protection. What about defense?"

"As are most students after their first two months with Professors Black and Karkaroff. You will be exhausted of defense, too, in no time." Still, he said, "The bookcase in your room will be full of books by curfew. You should begin at the bottom and work your way up."

"Do I have to read them in a timely manner?"

Morozov smirked. "Ah, a student of Professor Winter." He shook his head. "No, I'm not so cruel nor am I hurting for defensive books. However, I do expect there will be an end to your beginner studies before next October."

Harry raised a finger. "What happens if I grow bored?"

"Finish the books I give you then we will move on to the study of another word." He raised his eyebrows. "Are you certain you wish to start with defense?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know."

Morozov nodded. "I'm all about engaging students through what they enjoy and encouraging them to explore their interests outside a classroom setting. I don't believe you should force yourself to study things you don't have to and lack enthusiasm for. I have an idea, but what do you think?"

"Quidditch," Harry answered. "I'm interested in Quidditch and flying."

"It's freeing to be honest with yourself, isn't it?" Morozov leaned forward. "Any spell can be used in a duel. One just needs imagination and a flair for theatrics."

••

Halloween

31 October 1991

For the past seven years, Halloween had been nothing to celebrate. The whole day had been ruined for him and, given that he'd been in Greece with Charlus, the day was always spent in near silence. But Charlus did find it necessary to hang onto him. Harry didn't mind being up under Charlus at all either.

So it was a bit of a culture shock to be around more than a thousand people who celebrated the day.

For a number of reasons.

"Smile, Potter," Polina Kotova said as she tossed him a bag of sour wands. She, like a number of others at the school, sported a bracelet like his.

"Antonin had helped start a few houses in Russia and Ukraine," Andrei had explained. "Probably how Karkaroff is alive. I think he told."

All the children who had lived in those houses celebrated the day. Even Karkaroff had a pep in his step. Winter, who had been part of the war effort, had relaxed their workload for the day. The adults who had been safe and the children who had been blissfully unaware were just looking forward to a day of sweets and a feast.

Harry collected plenty sweets, but never made it to the feast.

He'd met Andrei on the first floor. His old friend had taken him by the hand and led him to the realm of ice.

"Dora brought me here last year and I thought you'd appreciate it." He had Harry by his shoulder as he took him through the corridors. "So, Hel. The giantess of the place with all the ghosts? She had a hall. Every year since…" He waved his hand around. "Probably Grindelwald, some of us go to it."

They went into an empty room, which was full of nothing but ice and snow. Icicles, some with frosted tips, hung low from the ceiling. Sheets of black ice and snow covered the floor.

They treaded slowly and carefully across the room until they came to a hole in the floor.

Andrei looked at Harry. "Ready?"

"No?"

Andrei yanked on Harry's sleeve. Together, they jumped. Harry opened his mouth in silent horror. He closed his eyes when he found stone nearing and braced himself. He opened them when he found he was bouncing on the floor.

They were in a new place inside a dim tunnel.

"What the hell?!" Harry whispered with his wand out.

"Calm down."

Andrei walked off and, after a moment's hesitation, Harry followed.

This was like no tunnel Harry had ever been in. Between hiking, camping, and hunting with Charlus and/or Bartemius, he'd been in a few.

They were clearly in the mountains, but there were tall pillars that stretched to a high ceiling that depicted an icy mountain range by a lake. Torches behind the pillars glowed a soft blue. It reminded Harry of the throne room at Schloss Grindelwald. He lit his wand and looked behind him. Indeed, there was a huge, stone chair far on the other side. He wondered if there were real dogs chained behind the back wall.

When they reached the end of the tunnel they found rectangular tables full of food in the wide opening. Outside the tunnel was a bonfire with music, dancing, and singing. Some students were at the tables eating and talking to…

Harry paled. He saw them. Ghosts, but no one he'd seen in the castle.

"No one's going to make fun of you," Andrei said softly. "We're all here for the same thing. You'll know when they're here." He slapped Harry's shoulder then walked away.

Harry hesitated then moved over to seat at a near empty table. He sat far from where Yinka Uwazirike sat staring at the wall. For a moment, he wondered why she was waiting, but he shook his head. Now wasn't the time to people watch.

He played with the sleeve of his robes as he contemplated going outside, but he sat there. If asked, he'd swear he just wanted to see what happened, but to himself he could admit he stayed because he hoped to see them.

He raised his head. "You should stop trying to sneak up on me. You're too big not hear."

"Oh? You think you're safe 'cause I can't touch you?" Taurus started howling, which attracted looks from the others.

Harry, red-faced and gaping, turned to looked at him. "Will you stop that?" he hissed. Taurus, a handsome, well built man with wavy, black hair and dark eyes, continued to howl.

Harry felt a presence by his ear. "You know you have to say sorry. You've been around Regulus and Sirius enough."

He sighed. "I'm sorry okay? You're slender and your neck is small."

Stephanie laughed behind him and Taurus snorted.

Stephanie, who had her arm around Harry's shoulders, said, "Happy Halloween, mon coeur."

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"You love sweets and let Evan ruin a day you can get a bag full?"

He gave her a deadpanned look.

Taurus touched his head. "How's the living?"

"You don't know?"

"You're supposed to tell us about them."

So he did. He told them about the Rosiers, the Potters, and the Blacks. He assured them of Charlus, Laurent, and Celestine's continued happiness.

"I don't know your mother," he said to Taurus. "I don't like yours," he said to Stephanie. "And I haven't seen your son in years."

"You mean your brother?" Stephanie said.

Harry drank Spiced Lakka in lieu of responding.

"I suppose that since you've brought my father back to life, I can forgive you," Taurus said with a wink. "Just promise not to beat the shit out of him like you do everyone else who crosses Harry James Potter. And watch him. Even if he's not thankful. I will be."

Harry sighed. "Deal."

Stephanie poked his cheek. "Am I missing something?"

They looked at her. Yes, the person who had been tortured in another room didn't know that Harry had been downstairs getting beat the shit out of.

But that meant she hadn't been dead when he'd left the house.

Bellatrix had left her like that?

Of course.

What sympathy did she posses to put someone out of their literal misery?

"We'll speak later," Taurus told her.

They spoke for a little longer then they both kissed his cheeks and let him go. He walked away from the table with a heavy heart, but with shoulders that were lighter than they'd been in years.

They didn't hate him.

Everyone else was outside by the time he got there. They were drinking or smoking or dancing and singing by the bonfire. Andrei was in a corner speaking with a girl who was unfamiliar to Harry, but he decided to leave them be.

He thought to wander back inside until he heard, "What makes you sad, hero?"

Harry turned his head to see a young woman? Teenager? Either way she – beautiful with platinum blonde hair and gray eyes – was standing beside the cave wall. She wore an icy blue cloak with silver fur trimming the hood.

He poked himself in the chest. "Me? I'm no hero."

She narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond.

"You don't go to Durmstrang?"

She took a moment to answer, but when she did, she said, "Not for a very long time."

Harry tilted his head. "Very long?"

"Not since I was a little girl."

Harry nodded. "All of ten years ago."

She laughed. It was a musical laugh that made something in Harry's stomach flutter. It also attracted some stunned looks.

He held out his hand. "Harry Potter."

"Brynhild."

Harry looked at her, paused, but shook his head. No way.

"Why are you sad, hero?"

"I just spoke with…my mother and father."

It had been years since he'd called them that, but that's what they were. The first people he'd called parents and the first to give him a proper home.

"Should that not make you happy? Whenever I get to speak with mine, I'm pleased."

He sighed. "The last time I spoke to them it was right before they were murdered."

"Is that when you became a hero?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not a hero."

"You are a great warrior and a fearless hero," she said. "Why do you deny it?"

Harry didn't answer. The image he had of a hero didn't match with the one he had of himself. Henry, Fatine, and Aldrich were heroes. Porpentina, Jiaying, and Lauressa were heroes. People who had stood up for others and fought against tyranny. He hadn't fought against it. He'd done everything but physically bow to it.

"Ugh," Brynhild said beginning him back to the present. "You are a hero. How do I know? You are brooding and miserable."

Harry laughed.

She tugged on his arm. "Dance."

So Harry Potter danced with Brynhild. He would go down as one of the legends of Durmstrang; one of the few young men to speak and dance with a Valkyrie.