Prologue (By Baron Salazar Slytherin)
Finally, our protagonist arrives at the Durmstrang institute of magic. He can now begin to get on with his life, and love his godfather's memory in peace. However, note how earlier in this, i pointed out that Harry isn't going to get any peace? Nothing's changed on that front yet. Fate still mocks him, and there is plenty of action to come. By now, Harry must hate it. Knowing him, all he wants is a quiet life. The sort of personality that Harry has suggests that what he really wants to be is a crazy loon, that sits on his porch all day telling false stories about how 'he was in the war'. However, when the stories aren't false, it takes the fun out of it somewhat.
For most of this war, he's quite clearly been a 'good' guy. But why? Lord knows, the light have never offered Harry anything but revenge. Revenge on the wrong person. The next few months will be critical. Harry will need true allies, true friends, and to build up trust and loyalty. Without this, he might as well give up now. He can't fight alone, nor can he make some rather important choices alone.
Right now Harry is torn. Were you wondering why he has not contacted my protegee Thomas already? I'll tell you. Cedric and Harry were on better terms than was realised by most – they kept their 'friendship' secret from the rest of the school, because otherwise they would be accused of collaboration – accusations which would be impossible to deny, since they were totally true. And a minion of Voldemort's killed Cedric.
Also, note the fact that although James Potter was Harry's father, Sirius was his... substitute father, if you will. A minion of Voldemort killed him, and even before that, another minion, notably the one who killed Cedric, kept Sirius from Harry. The Rat is a member of Thomas' organization, and the prison that should have held him, if anyone, held Sirius Black in his stead.
There is one way Harry could be bought by Tom. There is no money that would tempt Harry, no service that Harry's childhood nemesis could perform, that would be enough. All Harry wants is a pet... A rat, specifically.
Mind you, he wouldn't really know what to do with it – question the cowardly bastard under Veritaserum, feed him to Manwatheal (You haven't met him yet, Harry has though – He's Mikhail's half kneazle. The other half is siamese cat, which is strange – Kneazles avoid mundane cats like the plague), or hand him over to the ministry to get Sirius' name cleared post-humously.
This chapter will change part of what I have written. But don't be skipping ahead, now...
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Author: Jacobim Von Styluss
Not a Disclaimer: Gaaa! Damn my earache! It's been going for over a week now... (If you really need a disclaimer, go back a chapter or two...)
This was betaed by the fantastic and incomparable AubreyElla! Go give that girl a hug, right now!
Chapter devoted to - Aubrey for being just generally fantastic, Jenny for being mental, and Me! Dunno why, really. Oh, and to anyone who participates in my little request at the end.
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7pm, Durmstrang Institute, August 24th
'I really hope my room is near Mikhail's' thought Harry as Robert led him down a corridor leading to some of the rooms. Mikhail was living in school, as he always had despite his new flat, which is closer than the house in England that he shared with his Aunt. He said to Harry that living out of the school would feel strange.
In truth, despite having a new school, it would have been strange to him as well.
Harry was lost in his memories of Hogwarts, what good memeories remained untainted by Ron and Hermione's betrayal, and Dumbledore's treachery – sitting around the fire, playing gobstones with Neville or Seamus, or even talking football with Dean; being the only two completely muggle-raised students in the dorm, both had a passion for the sport. Although quidditch had the entire Wizarding nation engrossed, both Harry and Dean enjoyed football more as a spectator sport.
'I'll have to owl those three, even if just to warn them off Ron & Hermione,' mused Harry.
So lost in his thoughts of true friends, he didn't realise they had stopped walking, having arrived at the dorm.
Returning to earth from Robert's tap on the shoulder, Harry noticed a brass plate on the door into which the word 'Krum' was engraved.
"Krum? As in, Viktor?" asked Harry, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Yep, he's the moderator for this area. It's like having a head of house in Hogwarts, except the selection is random for each area, and you are allowed to stay in the common rooms of whichever 'House' you want. There's six in the college -"
"Hold up, what's Viktor doing here still? Hasn't he completed his education?" Harry interrupted.
Robert rolled his eyes and smiled. "Just about. But he's a teacher here. He teaches all the flight classes, whenever Sofia – his club team – isn't playing. Actually, they're a lucky team, they have hundreds more fans now that Viktor teaches here, because all the students love him to bits. Occasionally, the school will organise trips to his games.
"Anyway, as I was saying, there's six living areas for students, each with around thirty rooms. Each student gets a room each, and there are a few common rooms in each area – everybody is allowed in other area's common rooms, in case you have friends there. However, if the moderator thinks that anybody is being rude, offensive, or behaving in a less than respectable manner, they will be removed from that particular room, and taken to isolation. One hour, where all you are allowed to do is work. It's a good way of getting even the dodgy kids to do their homework."
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Harry was sat on his bed, simply admiring his 'room'. However, despite what it was called, this was no room. This was an entire apartment that simply fit into the outward space of a single room. It had been expanded, and a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and living room – also the entrance - made up his apartment.
Durmstrang had a rather neat idea on how to deal with the catering situation without many house-elves – have restocking cupboards in the apartments, and the students cook for themselves. If they can't cook, then they lose a free period to cookery class, and when they pass they can cook whatever they want. Until they pass, they have to deal with a smaller choice of foods, cooked by some of the few house-elves at the college.
Also, if you want a tidy apartment, then tidy it yourself. However, laundry is the one job always done by the house-elves, and all clothing had to have name-tags attached, so they could give them to the right students. These were the main rules laid down, apart from that it was obvious – no fighting, no offensive behaviour, always do your homework, etc.
Robert had gone over these before he had left, also mentioning that Viktor should have been doing it, but he was busy with a league game; which also explained the lack of students – some stayed through the holidays, having nowhere nearby to live, and unlike some sports, quidditch was played all year round, so students during holidays would always go see his games, having little better to do.
About two hours after Harry had been shown to his room, and had unpacked everything, he was reading a book, with his feet up on the other side of the sofa in his front room, and a cozy fire burning in the hearth. A knock came at the door, and Harry looked up from The Fellowship of the Ring, by Tolkien.
"Come in!" Stated Harry.
The door opened, and a man said "Hello again, Harry," in a strong Eastern-European accent.
"Viktor! It's great to see you again," greeted Harry warmly, rising to greet his visitor.
"And you, Harry." came the reply from the Bulgarian.
They shook hands, and Harry offered him a seat.
"Do you want a drink, or something?" asked Harry, playing the host, and actually pretty glad to be using a kitchen for that sort of reason – most of his life at the Dursleys, he'd been cooking for them only, he very rarely ate a hot meal, making do with cheese sandwiches mostly. At Hogwarts, the elves dealt with that sort of need. Harry liked the feeling of liberation that came from cooking when he wanted to.
"I vood like a cup off something hot, coffee if it vould not be too much trouble. It was freezing, and the hot water voss broken in the showers after the match."
When Harry had returned from the kitchen with a cup of coffee for Viktor, and tea for himself, he noticed Viktor was still shivering, so having passed the coffee into grateful hands, he cast a warming charm on the sofa. Viktor looked a little puzzled. At Harry's inquisitive look, he wondered out loud;
"Vy did I not think of vat?"
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"Right, so I believe vat you have already been filled in by Professor Lorne on most of the rules, so I'm really just here to explain a few things vot you might vant to know. Firstly, is there anything in particular you are vondering about?"
"Quidditch, is there teams for it?"
"I am afraid not, Harry. We do play quidditch, but it's recreational only. However, if you vont to play competitively, you could join a professional team. A couple haff already done that, I did it long before I taught. Often, a group of friends will start their own team, and enter them into a lower league, but I think you could join an established team."
"That's sounds fantastic," came Harry's enthusiastic reply. "Do you know any team who'll need a seeker?"
"Vell, I vood advise joining the reserve team for a club. If you vant, I could put in a vord – Sofia need a new reserve, in case I get injured. It has happened in the past, and caused the team to lose – we haff a reserve seeker, but his build is not good enough. His reflexes, while excellent, are also clearly outclassed by vot I have seen from you."
"You really think I'm good enough to join a premier league team?"
"Harry, you could be the best seeker in the vorld, given time."
Harry tried to protest, but Viktor raising a hand silenced him.
"Zat is my opinion, whether you accept it or not. Anyvay, you haff more questions?"
"Yeah, how exactly does the education system work?"
"Vell, you vood need to choose your lessons first," he stated, handing over a prospectus. "Ve vill look through it later. After you have chosen, a timetable will be made. The amount of lessons you haff is your choice, although you vill need to take the core lessons as vell. To graduate from a subject, you must pass a grade band. To do that you are set an exam by your professor. Once you haff graduated from all the grade bands, the subject is complete, and you timetable automatically updates, to replace it with a free period. When this happens, you can fill the space with another lesson, or just leave it free. There is no time limit to how often you can progress. I myself qualified both Broomflight classes in a single veek. You, I imagine, will qualify even quicker.
"Broomflight classes are half core, as everybody is taught basic broomflight as mandatory, but there as an advanced course vich must be completed for a professional team to even consider accepting you. However, I have seen you fly, and I vill enter you into my exam immediately, and ven you pass both, you vill be qualified to fly professionally. Both flight courses haff only a single grade band.
"Now if you open that prospectus, I vill show you the lessons you vill be taking."
Harry did so, and was directed to the 'courses' section.
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"Right, so you will be doing Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against Dark Arts, Dark Arts, Potions & Basic Herbology, Arithmancy and Rune Magic. Since you've lived in both the muggle world and wizarding world for five or more years, you are exempt from Cultural Studies. You'll be starting from the beginning for Arithmancy, Dark Arts and Rune Magic, correct?" Headmaster Ainion asked.
Headmaster Armand Ainion was aesthetically, a peculiar man. Whether it continued onto his personality was up for debate, but with waist length hair in an enviable shade of crimson, shockingly amber eyes, and a diminuitive height of 5'7'', he certainly stuck out like a sore thumb, in what was a relatively normal establishment.
"Yep," replied Harry.
"Very well, I will inform the other subject's teachers that you need an assessment. That will be all, I think – oh wait, I heard you wish to play for a Quidditch team?" Upon seeing Harry's confused nod, he continued. "In that case, you will need to ensure that you train only in your spare time, except in special cases. By this, I mean important matches for your club coming up, and so on. After all, even I have a soft spot for Quidditch."
Harry grinned, and inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Of course, Headmaster. By the way, have you found a replacement for your Magical Creatures teacher?"
"I'm afraid not, Harry. I have been searching for the entire summer so far, but have not found one quite adequate. A skilled teacher in the subject is difficult to find, however we are trying to persuade an ex-Hogwarts teacher, Professor Kettleburn to fill in until we have one. He says he will, but reluctantly, since he apparently has felt uncomfortable around animals since an accident with an Erumpent in Africa cost him an arm. It sneezed on him, with disastrous results. For some reason, he refuses to get it regrown."
Harry cut in. "If you've ever drank Skelegrow, you'll know why. Anyway, at Hogwarts while Hagrid was unable to teach for a few months, a supply teacher, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank came in. Lord knows, she was a damn sight better than Hagrid."
"In that case, I will contact her. Very well, I shall see you later Mr. Potter."
Harry took this as a dismissal, and left the office.
When he left the room, he found his relatives waiting outside.
"Hello Harry," said Petunia. "How'd it go?"
"Meh, I found out my lessons, and suggested a new teacher."
"Who for?" said Mikhail, coming up behind Harry, who understandably flew up into the air.
"Geez Mikhail, don't do that!" Admonished Harry.
"I would apologize, but the scaring was totally intentional," said Mikhail cheekily.
Harry slapped him on the back of the head, to which the Russian pouted, but didn't reply.
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Harry spent most of the remaining summer idly wandering around the college, usually with his overexuberant puppy bouncing around his ankles. Mikhail walked with him sometimes as well, either pointing out good spots to sit and talk, or just to think in peace. Harry, once again, was glad that he had moved to Durmstrang. It was not cold, as the Hogwarts students were led to believe, in fact a weather charm was cast over the grounds making the whole atmosphere similar to summer all year. Well, not all year – everybody's got to have snow at some point in the year.
During one of these sedate ambles, Harry recalled conversations he'd had with Ron, after the Durmstrang students had arrived at Hogwarts. They said that Durmstrang must be cold, that's why they are wearing the cloaks. Harry snorted. If they spent most of their time in a freezing cold place, why would they need cloaks to go somewhere warmer? Surely they'd be used to cold.
Harry loved everything about Durmstrang. It was warm, the teachers were pleasant and competent, and most importantly, there was nobody here to betray him. Dumbledore wouldn't have thought to place a person in Durmstrang; he didn't know Harry owned it.
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The time before term passed quickly, and Harry soon found himself wandering to his first lesson of the year. It was peculiar seeing the college so full of people, as the student wing was sparse during summer, while the lesson corridors were totally empty except for the occasional teacher, wandering around the rooms trying to prepare for the next term.
Harry had found that his first lesson was Potions, with R. Lorne, who he already knew, of course. He knew the man was a talented potions master, and a Slytherin (for he indeed went to Hogwarts) of the way that Salazar intended – witty and cunning, rather than oily and overconfident.
This got Harry thinking. What about characters such as Draco Malfoy? He knew that the sorting hat had the essences of all founders inside, which means that surely, only if there was complete agreement with all personalities, would a new student be admitted immediately to a certain house, as Draco was. Did this mean that Salazar believed that Draco was an ideal Slytherin? He certainly could outwit anyone, when he desired... even at the age of eleven, not Harry, Neville, Ron or Hermione realised that they had been set up. Harry remembered Draco as merely an irritation, a thorn in his side, but what if Draco was more as a person than that? Perhaps that was a facade, the 'smug git' persona that most people knew him as.
The more Harry thought, the more his curiosity grew. He wanted to meet Malfoy again, he had to...
When Harry finally arrived at his lesson, he was at least ten minutes late.
"Will you tell me why you're late, Harry?" Professor Lorne said.
"I lost track of time, sorry Professor. I'm too used to just wandering around the college, thinking."
Harry shot a small grin at his teacher.
The potion master rolled his eyes. "Sit down, and don't call me professor. None of the teachers particularly want you to, and Simon'll have a fit if you do."
"Erm, alright Rob."
"Harry! Over here!" A four person desk was filled except for one seat, next to Mikhail. Harry sat down quickly, greeting his friend in hushed tones.
"Right!" Robert had raised his voice, to address the entire class, who'd been distracted by Harry's entrance.
"The first topic on the syllabus is medicine, so we will start with a discussion of very basic magical first aid. So, firstly, assume I was choking to death. You have ten minutes, and I want you to write a method on how you would prevent my untimely and rather... undignified demise. You can use any ingredients that you want, but the final solution to the problem would need to able to be administered very quickly."
Ten minutes later, after some worried head scratching from a few students, Robert called out "do we have a solution?" Seeing the general consensus of nods, he asked Harry for his solution. Harry gave it very reluctantly. Robert read it rather quickly, and his expression changed from indifference to shock.
Then he burst out laughing. "Well done Harry, well done indeed." He said once he had recovered.
"Robert, what did he put?" asked a slightly younger student.
"The Heimlich maneuver, and step by step instructions on how to perform it."
Mikhail burst out laughing, while the rest of the class looked baffled. Mikhail gasped out "The Heimlich maneuver is a muggle solution where you grab the person from behind, and tug your hands up into their stomach. It almost always works, but most wizards wouldn't think of it."
"Yes, well done Harry – although trust you, probably the most powerful wizard here, to use a muggle solution."
A burly student in the back of the class laughed, and yelled "Who the hell is he? Since when is that shrimp the most powerful wizard in the college? He's wearing make-up, the fag!" People, I'm gay myself, so please don't take offence from this comment – anyway, read on...
He got hexed by fourteen people in the few seconds, notably Harry himself, who was now very obviously Harry Potter, since before nobody really looked at him. Also hexing him was, understandably, Mikhail, whose face wore such rage that even Harry was intimidated, and the professor himself, who nonchalantly said, "One by one now, who hexed him with what? And if any were dangerous to his health, speak up now." Everybody remained quiet. "That just leaves me then," said Robert cheerfully.
Harry had to struggle to keep a straight face.
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Harry only had one more lesson that day, being Defence Against the Dark Arts with a professor that Harry had heard mentioned but never met. Simon Blake. However, when he entered the room, he took one look at his silver-dyed-haired teacher before his eyes widened and he passed out with shock, saying only one word, and cracking his head on the floor.
The teacher took one look at him, and said one word, in utter shock, "Oops..." while thinking 'I didn't set up the pranks on the door today, I'm sure of it! I never do, for first day...'
Before he took a closer look at this student, anyway. Then his thoughts went blank, and his jaw figuratively hit the floor.
"Guys, I'm calling off this class," he said in a choked voice, before carrying Harry to the infirmary.
The students were a little confused, but didn't care much, since they now had a free period, for what was the last lesson of the day, and headed off in their own direction, except for Mikhail who tried to catch up with the teachers.
Meanwhile, one student was beginning to worry that her hearing was going wrong. She could have sworn that before Harry collapsed, he muttered "Siri?"
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AN : #laughs to self#... I'm evil! More evilness to come in a while, in fact, as of now, it's at the end of next chapter. But you know what I'm like with updates, so it'll probably still be a while.
I have a new site! It's a fanfiction thing, it's a glossary of terms that you may find in the fanfiction world. So, I'd advise you at least stick it on your favourites, because it's hardly unknown for somebody to come across a term they don't know. There is, after all, loads of them... Also, you see one that I've missed, please please please, submit it! There's a submissions form, although it has limited uses left, which means I may eventually have to pay :( Or I might just return to an e-mail system... Would be cheaper...
I keep forgetting Harry has a puppy now! But hey! His puppy is DEAD CUTE!
And now, I have a task for you all!
I'm bored of having my chapters called Chapter #, so anybody who can be bothered, I would be VERY grateful if you'd think up chapter names for all the ones I have. The best one for each chapter will be picked. I'll go back and edit them in once I've received them. The more funny/creative, the better! Don't have any chapter spoilers in them though! And just for the record, I'll credit the creative geniuses behind the titles, at the end of each chapter. Sound worth it? There's a little button saying 'Go' on it, click it and you can send them as a review. Alternatively, you can simply send me a PM from my profile. Whichever suits you, really.
PLEASE REVIEW! I'M GONNA DO A SILLY HAPPY DANCEWHEN I HIT 100! WOOHOO!
And sorry about the lateness again! Two chapters in a row? I should be ashamed of myself...