Four days had passed since their tour around the school with Krum. Hermione had discovered the Durmstrang library, stuffed chock full texts she'd never heard of, and was constantly lugging around a few heavy books in her school bag, which she'd thoughtfully brought to Durmstrang with her.
Ron played wizard chess and explored the grounds with Harry. Neville, who used to go with them on these excursions, stopped after glimpsing the kraken rising from the depths of the lake. Terrified, he'd rushed back to the castle and refused to come out again. Harry and Ron had found another Venenum bug hiding under a pile of timber, multiple pieces of wands (this scared Harry, as he'd seen some older boys push smaller boys around and threaten to break their wands).
Durmstrang students still stared and whispered as Harry passed, though less noticeably. He started to avoid large crowds and stuck with his friends most of the time.
One afternoon, after a particularly satisfying lunch, Hermione told them all to meet her in the library.
"Wonder what she wants?" Said Ron as they climbed up a wide spiral staircase to the second floor. Neville trailed along behind them, pausing to look out the window.
The sky was clear, but an icy breeze kept their cloaks tightly buttoned. The stairs creaked slightly and the torches occasionally flickered out. They hurried, wanting to get to the library before they froze. Neville had gone to the library once, but Harry and Ron had never been. He was eager to see what it looked like.
The library was rather small, but cozy and surprisingly welcoming. Unlike the lofty, towering shelves of the Hogwarts library, the Durmstrang library was only one story, with ten-foot-tall oak shelves, lined with cracked leather spines. Layers of dust settled on some of the highest and oldest titles. The front desk was inhabited by a plump witch wearing a pair of glasses and reading one book (the pages turned magically) while swiping dust off of the cover of another. She paid them no attention as they looked around for Hermione.
"Psst! Harry! Ron! Over here!"
Harry turned his head towards the sound of her voice. Hermione waved them over from a long table in the middle of the room. The books around her were piled so high Harry could only see the top of her head.
Four Durmstrang students crowded around the other end, hooting about something. Every so often, they'd break out into raucous laughter. Hermione shot them an annoyed look and gestured for Harry, Ron, and Neville to take seats.
There were eleven or twelve large and heavy books stacked around her. Ron gingerly moved a couple out of the way. One reeked of rotten eggs, and Ron wrinkled his nose, repulsed.
"I've been doing a bit of research, you see," she whispered. They all leaned closer so they could hear her. "There are all kinds of books here! They have all the books that would be in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts. Look!"
She lifted a thick, flaking old book from the pile and showed them the cover. The Greatest and Most Feared Wizards of the Past Half-Century.
"It's a great book, really," she said, carefully laying it back down. "It's got all sorts of information on the Dark Arts, things you'd never find out at Hogwarts…"
"Well, of course you wouldn't, this is Durmstrang! They practically support the Dark Arts!" Harry said rather loudly. He was still feeling a bit annoyed at Veruca's jab from earlier. The students at the other end of the table looked up, so he ducked down and tried to lower his voice.
"And that's exactly why we can find out all we need to know about Grindelwald!" Hermione hissed. "I don't want a relapse of what happened at Charms. There are students here that could benefit from this information." She patted the book with her hand. Little poufs of dust rose from the cover and spiraled through the air.
Ron coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. Hermione glared at him.
"There's history here, I can feel it," she said earnestly. "Lots of stuff happened here, you just have to do a bit of searching and reading…"
"Okay, Hermione, will you get to the point? Why'd you call us here?" Ron said impatiently, looking around. He was agitated, fidgeting. "I could be playing Quidditch right now! Or...uh…" He trailed off, realizing that there really wasn't anything to do.
"I was just going to tell you that I've just found out a lot about Grindelwald, that's all. And, oh! Have any of you heard from Dumbledore lately? I haven't seen him since we got here!"
Ron looked quickly at Harry, who shook his head. He'd been wondering where their headmaster had been up to. It wasn't like Dumbledore. Or McGonagall, for that matter.
"He said goodnight to me, once." Neville piped up nervously. "When I was just going to bed."
"When?" Harry rounded on him.
"Er, I dunno. I don't quite remember when."
"Where, then?" Hermione said, a bit crossly.
"I wasn't even near our quarters! He must have just seen my pajamas...It was somewhere near the Potions stairway, I think."
"The Potions stairway? What was he doing there?" Ron said, turning to look at them all, who gave him bewildered and confused looks in return.
"Beats me," said Harry, ready to move on to a different topic and dissect Dumbledore's behavior later. "McGonagall's been scarce too."
"It's got to do with Vulchanova." Ron said decisively. "There's something fishy about her, I can feel it."
"Ron!" Hermione admonished him. "Be careful! And keep your voice down." She gestured not-so-subtly at the Durmstrang students. "They practically idolize Vulchanova, you know. It'd do you good to not go around insulting her."
Ron had a determined look on his face. "No, Hermione. I can smell how shifty she is. Vulchanova's all but admitted she hates us."
Hermione did an odd sort of gasp. "You can't say that! What do you know?"
"I've seen the look in her eyes. She loathes us. Me, at least. And I saw something that day when she took our memories away. Her eyes looked weird. They were purple!" Ron whispered, leaning in.
"Purple?" Neville said disbelievingly. "Like, her eyes were purple?"
Hermione snorted. "She's got eyes like Snape, that's for sure. Chilling and...eugh." She shivered. "But I think you're the one that needs to get their eyes checked, Ron."
Ron sat back in his chair sullenly. Harry wanted to stand up for his best mate, but he wasn't sure if the purple gleam in the Headmistress's eyes had been in his own imagination or not.
They sat in silence.
Hermione, fed up with the turn the conversation had taken, cracked open a book (after making sure none of the Durmstrangs had eavesdropped) and was flipping the pages with unnecessary ferocity.
Neville got up. "I'm going up to my room," he said firmly. "And I think th-that we should stop fighting so much. I mean, we have to stick together."
He walked off, leaving the rest of them gaping slightly after him.
Hermione poked her head into Harry's room.
"Hey, Hermione," he said, trimming the twigs on the end of his Firebolt. Although there wasn't much to do to it (as the Firebolt was such a magnificent broom), Harry didn't look up from his work.
"Er, Harry?"
"What?"
"Did you get this?" She held out a cream-colored envelope.
"No, what is it?" He stood, wiped polish off his hands, and took it curiously.
"Some sort of invitation...from Dumbledore!"
"Dumbledore?" Ron's head stuck inside, then the rest of his body entered Harry's room. "Lemme see that."
Harry gave it to him, and Ron wasted no time opening the envelope and reading the paper inside.
"It's addressed to all of us!" He brushed his fingers over the letters. "Dumbledore wants us to meet him tomorrow after lunch!"
"But what for?"
"Who knows?"
"There's a meeting and you didn't t-tell me?" Neville said, panting. He almost tripped over Harry's broomstick as he stumbled into the room, out of breath. Harry steered him towards a chair.
"Well, we're all going to see Dumbledore tomorrow. We can finally get that mystery solved." Hermione said, grabbing the invite from Ron's hand and marching out the door. She was evidently thinking about Blacke's mannerism-snatching the potion away-and Ron's accusation at the library earlier about Vulchanova.
The table was tense the next day. Harry ate slowly, chewing for much longer than necessary. The meeting with Dumbledore weighed on his mind like a Hungarian Horntail.
What was he to expect? Where would they meet? (Hermione had told him earlier, but he'd forgotten.) What were they going to talk about? Why was he so nervous?
Harry put down his fork. "I-I think I'm ready to go, if you are," he said to the table of people, all of whom looked bored and apprehensive. Their plates sat there half full of food.
They all got up and walked out of the dining hall, triggering the usual stares and points. Harry stopped in the hallway to let Hermione take the lead, who'd pulled out the invitation again and was scrutinizing it with care.
She led them through a labyrinth of passageways and staircases.
"It's an office," Hermione breathed as they looked at the majestic doors in front of them. "It's got to be. The professors' quarters are much better than ours."
She knocked hesistantly on the door, which magically swung open. Impressed, the Hogwarts students stepped over the threshold and looked around at possibly the most amazing guest rooms they'd ever seen.
Sunlight poured in from the various windows, highlighting and glinting off of the shinier objects in the room.
The ceiling rose high above them, gilded in gold, and bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with old-looking books. There was a table containing parchment, quills, and silver instruments (that Harry recognized from Dumbledore's own study at Hogwarts). There was a spiraling staircase rising upwards in front of them, a dozen feet away. Moving picture frames and tapestries hung on the walls.
Much to his surprise, Fawkes stood sleeping in a cage off to the side.
The entire atmosphere of this study was very unlike the rest of Durmstrang, Harry had to admit. It had a sort of glittery, floaty feel that made him feel like he was in a dreamworld of wonder and light. He wondered briefly where McGonagall resided. There didn't seem to be another room nearby; he hadn't seen any other doors in the hallway.
Harry was admiring the small fountain bubbling in the corner when a voice startled him.
"Greetings, Ambassadors. Please, take a seat." Dumbledore walked into the room, magicking purple-cushioned chairs for them all.
They sat awkwardly on the stools, not knowing whether or not they were supposed to talk.
Harry twisted his hands in his lap, waiting.
"I apologize for my failure to arrange a meeting sooner. I believe it would be better to have an afternoon snack." He waved his wand, and a tea tray complete with a large platter of crumpets and biscuits, teapot and teacups appeared, floating in midair. Dumbledore served them all tea and continued to talk. "I must say, I am impressed with your adjustment to Durmstrang. I'm sure we've had some hardships and disagreements with people (both students and teachers) during our time here, but that is not what I'm here to discuss."
Harry, still rather full from lunch, sipped his tea but left the pastries untouched. He listened to Dumbledore talk more about Durmstrang's culture and how important it was that they'd finally made this breakthrough. How they needed to try not to aggravate the Durmstrang heads too much. How they needed to refrain from breaking rules as much as they did at Hogwarts (here Dumbledore looked at Harry and Ron in particular).
Harry desperately wanted to talk to Dumbledore about Professor Blacke and his shiftiness, and about how something here didn't feel right, but he didn't want to go stirring up trouble after Dumbledore's speech.
"Do you have any questions? Or just anything you'd like to tell me?" Dumbledore looked at them with keen interest, his eyes intense under his half-moon spectacles.
The four looked at each other.
"Professor," Hermione said a bit timidly. "I'd first like to thank you for allowing this summer trip. I've had such a great experience here. I am concerned, however, of the way that Durmstrang promotes the Dark Arts, and I do not think that everything is all and well at this school. There have been signs of things that just don't sit right. And I'm sure I'm not the only one that feels this way."
Harry nodded his head silently. Dumbledore's forehead creased as he steepled his fingers and looked at them.
"What do you think of our temporary headmistress?" He said suddenly.
Ron was the first to speak up. "Vulchanova is creepy."
"Professor Vulchanova," Dumbledore corrected gently. "And may I ask why you think she is creepy?"
"She talks and moves like Sna-a certain professor. I don't really like her," Ron said in a half-whisper. He peeked up at Dumbledore, who seemed to be hiding a small smile. "There's, er, something inhuman? Something not normal about her."
"I'd like you to-ah-keep your thoughts to yourself for your own safety. There are some people here that wouldn't take kindly to your comments, I'm afraid. I appreciate you telling me your concerns, however, Mr. Weasley."
Ron nodded, looking part relieved and frustrated. Harry knew that Ron expected some inside details on Vulchanova, but clearly he wasn't getting them.
"What you four have managed to do is astounding, really. You've bridged Durmstrang and Hogwarts together, and formed a hesitant bond. Durmstrang is so private that it is a miracle they accepted the idea of this program. I'm proud of you." Dumbledore smiled at them, and Harry felt at ease and relaxed for the first time in a long time.
Harry and the others were in their respective rooms freshening up for dinner after Dumbledore's meeting. Harry and Ron had squeezed in some Quidditch practice until a couple Durmstrangs had come up and intimidated them off the pitch. Harry had noticed Ron's uneasiness and self consciousness in the presence of the older students, and they'd walked up to their rooms in silence.
As Harry splashed water on his face and changed out of his Quidditch gear, someone pounded heavily on the door.
"Come in!" He yelled, hands occupied.
It was Neville.
Surprised, Harry said, "Neville! What are you doing here?"
"Come see what Hermione's found!" Neville said breathlessly.
Harry put on his glasses and followed Neville to a room two doors down from Harry's. The layout inside was identical to Harry's, except with a different carpet and placement of windows.
Her clothes were neatly folded into a trunk and dresser. Her desk held two large stacks of books from the library, multiple rolls of parchment, quills, and inkwells.
Ron and Hermione were crouched next to her bed, which was pushed to the side to reveal a stretch of stone wall.
"Harry! You're here," Ron said, motioning him over. Curious, Harry scrambled towards them and leaned down, on his hands and knees. Hermione pointed at the wall.
There was the mark that they'd seen on the pages of the textbook in the Charms classroom.
Grindelwald's mark.
"What could it mean?" Harry said, examining the symbol closer. It appeared to be carved directly into the wall (rather crudely, as if done by hand with a knife of some sort).
Hermione's eyes shone. "It's the mark of the Deathly Hallows," she said excitedly. "I did some reading up about it, and it's connected to this children's tale."
She spent the next ten minutes explaining the legend of the three magical items Death had granted the three brothers, gesturing with her hands. "It's all connected, somehow," she said enthusiastically.
Harry's mind was on the fact that she was describing his Invisibility Cloak perfectly, and the feeling that he'd seen the symbol somewhere before.