A/N: Hey guys, guess who hasn't been swallowed by the void?
Yeah. Sorry for keeping you waiting that long, yet I had little time to sit down and write for a while. It usually takes around six hours to write one simple chapter. I had a lot of exams cramping up my time and even now between the years, I have some shit to do, besides of course the dinner with family on Christmas eve and the celebratory change of year. The worst part is, a good chunk of this was already done a while ago, I just never finished it. And because of the time difference between some of the parts within this chapter, you will find that the writing style changes a few times.
I can't guarantee any release date for a future chapter, nor can I guarantee that I haven't abandoned this story in a few months. This is due to the fact that I will finish my A-levels / high school in a few months time. Of course time I can't invest in writing for six hours straight.
I hope you enjoy reading this chapter and I hope I will get around to write a few more before I have to put down my pen for the sake of my education.
Harry Chapter Five
A Snake and a Cup
Three years later.
September 1, 1991
Iris stood on the train platform nine-and-three-quarters. Her Auburn hair turned into black curls that fell down her shoulders and right past her shoulder blades.
Her chocolate brown eyes roamed the busy platform, looking for someone or something, but not sure what it was.
She had spent the last seven years under the tutelage of three of the dark lords most loyal followers.
Bellatrix Lestrange, her mother and guidance over the good part of the last decade. She had worked under the direct orders of the dark lord, preparing young Iris for the upcoming task. She would have to gain the old headmaster's trust, no matter what it took, to lull the man into a false sense of security.
She would, over the first two or three years of her education, slowly open up to the old man. Telling him tales of her terrible mother who constantly tortured her, not that that was far of the truth, and how abused she was getting. The headmaster would probably try to use her as an informant for his cause, trying to get her to spy on her parents to gain information on the dark lords' state.
She would play the afraid and defiant little girl who seeks help from the greatest wizard of all time. He would play the bright mentor for her, who would help her if she could supply him with the right information.
Once everything was ready, she would assassinate the old man. Cut off the head of the snake that was the so-called light side, run them into chaos, while her 'father' would be resurrected to his true body and take control of the wizarding community in Great Britain.
She hated calling the man father. He wasn't her father, in no sense of the word, yet if she didn't, her mother would decide to torture her. It was her sick idea of a joke. One that, to her surprise, found no aversion with the spirit of her 'dark lord'.
Bellatrix had a disgusting crush on the man, which was the reason for her strange fantasy of Iris being the child of her and he-who-shall-not-be-named. Iris had been resistant to the idea, which caused the woman to use the torture curse in such an excessive amount that it almost killed her.
She had no childhood in the very sense of the word. As she had turned six, Bella had provided her with her very own wand and began teaching her the elementary steeps of duelling. A subject she, by now, was rather familiar with. Bella had been a very strict teacher, broken bones and scars were the proof. Simple mistakes were chided by harsh methods, most of the time-intense sessions with the torture curse or other nasty curses people carrying fathers mark had invented.
Lucius and Cissy Malfoy had been her two other tutors, teaching her many of those subjects needed to obtain a degree at Hogwarts together with their son. Charms, Transfiguration and Potions only being a few of them.
Draco and she had become very close friends over the past seven years, both having a noticeable influence on the other's upbringing.
Draco having taught her to carry herself like the witch she was, like a pureblood he had always said. He would always take her to fly around the Malfoy estate when they currently weren't training or learning.
She always enjoyed being around him, as he gave her an interesting alternative to the constant work she had faced since she could walk.
But even he couldn't compensate for the years of abuse she suffered first at the hand of the couple that first took her in and then at the hands of the Lestrange family. She had slowly, but surely, turned more and more dull to the simpler things in life.
Beauty didn't excite her, nor did animals or flowers or other things girls her age would usually find exciting.
She enjoyed causing pain.
While only in certain circumstances, she loved the rush she felt every time a curse connected with her opponent. The sweet screams that echoed from their lungs once the pain set in. The fear in the eyes of those she had tortured on the orders of her mother.
Those were the things that gave her simple satisfaction.
She was damaged from the years of mental abuse she suffered, partly from the Occlumency training at the hands of her mother's brother-in-law.
Draco allowed her an escape from this. As did Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson. They allowed her to be someone else for a while. The rush of the air when she rode a broom excited her. The adrenalin that pumped through her veins when she flew inches above the ground at high speeds.
Always when she spent time with the three, she somewhere deep down hoped that she still could have a somewhat normal childhood at some point.
These thoughts and dreams were always very short-lived, as the training, she went through forced her to kill and torture innocent people. Not that she minded the fact that her training contained these aspects of 'growing up' as her mother called them. It was more the ramifications of her actions that disturbed her.
Still, for whatever reason that maybe, she seemed to also have a positive influence on the blond wizard. While still being a snotty git at times, he seemed much friendlier towards others. The Malfoys had always said Iris was an exceptionally balanced girl as if she was taking in the insanity around her and causing the world to relax a little.
The horn of the Hogwarts Express pulled the eleven-year-old girl out of her musings. She pulled the heavy luggage and a birdcage containing a white-feathered snow owl onto to train and set off in search of a compartment containing some of her friends.
A few weeks prior.
Hadrian's wand roamed the dark grand hall of Nurmengard Castle in search for his target. His hand clutched tight around the yew wood, eyes squinting prepared for anything.
A slight rustling sound could be heard a few feet to his right. Directly dropping onto the floor, yanking his wand into the direction of the sound and firing of a Bonebraker curse.
The light of the spell illuminated the hall for a short second, allowing Hadrian to see his target. He quickly raised his shield, causing an incoming red bolt to slam into his magical defences, another, this time yellow, bolt followed the first. Dropping the shield again, Hadrian rolled over the floor, avoiding the spell from hitting him.
"Oblito Cataegis"
Hadrian whispered an incantation he had been working on the past year. From the tip of his yew wand, a gentle mist started pouring, before suddenly expanding rapidly and rushing across the room in immense speed, spreading across the floor similar to snow and emitting an extremely bright light. It was a rather useful spell, especially when fighting in similar environments.
The light exposed the location of the three occupants of the room.
In one corner, the tall Bulgarian wizard Victor Krum held an arm before his eyes, covering them from the bright floor.
The sound next to him had been Stanislav Kostov, who had before slightly avoided the Bonebraker and had retaliated with some of Dolohov's curses. He also was slightly stunned by the light, unable to continue fighting.
The last of the three was a girl, who had been the least impressive of the three acolytes and only managed to somewhat impress with her vast knowledge of potions and Herbology. She had short brown hair and cold grey eyes that were usually hidden behind a pair of old, round glasses. She currently was cowering on the floor, already having dropped her wand in favour of shielding her eyes.
"Do you alvays have to use some spell ve can't counter?" Krum asked through gritted teeth. Natasha only moaned in agreement, still covering her eyes with her arms. "It's just a simple modification of Lumos Solem, only Arithmancy and Runes. Nothing you can't handle." Hadrian said, shrugging with his shoulders before disarming the other two, who hadn't kept their guard up.
The three Durmstrang students had been under special tutelage by a few of Grindelwald's enforcers. Most noticeable was the influence of both Dolohov and Karkaroff, who had taught the three more than one nasty curse.
Of course, these special tutoring sessions left a rather permanent mark on anyone who decided to take part in them, evident by the scar riddled torsos of the lot.
Victor Krum, who had been rather standoffish at first in regards to both Hadrian and Grindelwald, had slowly but surely opened up to the two and was, not just until recently, nearly regarded as something close to a brother by Hadrian.
Stanislav had still great potential, yet he had a problem when it came to his bend the knee nature of companionship. Hadrian didn't need someone who lacked the backbone to stand up for himself or didn't dare to voice his own opinion to him, remaining little more than a bootlicker to Hadrian and trying to follow his every whim. And while it may had some positive aspects attached to it, Hadrian simply found it annoying over time.
Natasha had been more than just a little revelation to both him and his father. Her knowledge of non-wand based subjects could, while only partly, still rival those of Hadrian himself. While still remaining on top with his creatures, she trumped him, as mentioned before, in Potions as well as Herbology. It was the wand based subjects that caused her headaches. Simple spells anyone her age should be able to cast were no catastrophic problem, casting most with only some issues, yet the more intricate and elegant duelling stances and spells required by the tutors simply eluded her.
It was that, and her strong moral compass and compassion that lead Harridan's father to start doubting the wisdom of allowing her to join the most elite ranks of his acolytes.
The last three years had done little to hide the fact that Gellert was ageing. His posture ever so slowly and ever so slightly was starting to show true signs of exhaustion, grey streaks growing into his blond hair, yet the wild blue eyes still full of magic and energy.
He had let himself go since the beginning of Hadrian's education. Still, the sleek features and thin body frame remained, yet his muscles and overall appearance showed in parts hints to his long prison stay and in parts a nudge into a more relaxed and isolated lifestyle.
Many people wanted to talk to him, many tried to get his attention, prominent political figures and young aspiring wizards alike. Yet only a few people ever had the enjoyment of seeing him in person nowadays. Still attending rallies, standing on stage and calling out to the people who listened, growing by the dozens, the hundreds, each day. His ideology spreading over the magical world like a virus, infecting more and more people, infesting itself in their mind and senses allowing them to see the world through his very own eyes. Seeing the people in power for what they really were, what they really wanted and what they were hiding. Traditionalists still fought against the growing flood of people joining in their protest, yet the magical population of eastern Europe grew more and more friendly with his views, slowly letting their excitement go adrift and infect more and more people.
But magical Britain stood strong, the firm grasp of Riddle was hardly to be underestimated, and only a few of the occupants of the isles dared to listen, and even less would be openly showing their support. But the seed was planted, just as it had been in France, Germany or the other countries which were slowly but surely turning their favours. Suddenly the second world war was so long ago. Suddenly the losses seemed so marginal, the costs so little and the tears so small. Suddenly everyone saw themselves and the world with new eyes, his eyes lost and in trance by the whispers of the shadows. Yet the people who listened to the whispers were those who would hear the voices when the time came. These people would be the ones that Grindelwald would build on, and these were the people Hadrian would build on as well.
His task, keeping himself and their cause well-received in Durmstrang, was a total success. No little thanks, of course, to the enforcers dispatched to establish themselves within in the castle walls, namely as teachers to either replace people whose loyalties were uncertain or to reassure the wavering students from multiple angles.
At school, Hadrian had taken up the task of training some of the more promising students, as well as those who he felt like could use help, as well as a nudge in the right direction. This had little to do with good intentions, but rather with his goal to rally the students under his banner. And rallying them under his banner meant rallying them under his fathers banner.
Those who were yet undecided or even showed hints of antagonism towards him and their cause were iced out of social groups and ignored by teachers, Ultimately causing them to be ignored completely by everyone who sympathised with Grindelwald's ideologies as if they were branded by a patch claiming they were lesser humans.
.oOo.
The great hall rolled to a standstill. All the talk, all the hushed whispers, the cheers for fellow students who had been sorted into the hoses stopped. Silence.
One could have heard a pin drop.
"Lestrange, Iris!"
The heavily accented voice of the Gryffindor head of house bellowed through the hall like a cannon blast, fired from the lower deck battery of a British warship during the Napoleonic wars.
The name Lestrange was infamous, for obvious reasons. Captured death eaters and found victims of the 'dark lady' reported on her loyalties and those of her family. The former Black, now branded the family name in a way, that people in a centuries time who would carry the name Lestrange would be met with wary glances and gasps.
On the inside, she smiled brightly, her amusement and disgust at the simple-minded idiots sounding her never slipping past and onto her features or her mental shield. She had to be constantly aware of her surroundings, always be on guard and always keep her mind shut to any intrusive glances by the man sitting only a few feet away from her.
She played the part of the afraid stammering stupid girl phenomenally. Her feet carrying her to the stool at the head of the hall.
She wearily eyed the hat before sitting onto the stool and slipping the hat onto her head, who was a few sizes too big for her, causing it to fall over her eyes and momentarily taking her vision.
'Oho…' a loud resounding voice echoed through her head. 'Very interesting… You've got much to hide, don't you?' she knew it was a rhetorical question, so she didn't bother answering, yet it unnerved her how the hat could see through her mental barriers. 'To your luck, and my dismay, I can't reveal the things I've read from deep within you…' the hat continued, booming into her mind drilling for more information 'You know, there are many like-minded people here at this school. May who will, if you play your cards right ease your way towards your ambitious goal.' the hat stopped in his musings.
"I know exactly where to put you..." he intoned the third word with an absolute tone of voice which would have made anyone uneasy who hadn't spent a good chunk of their childhood being tortured by an insane woman. "… SLYTHERIN!" the hat boomed, his voice rushing into every corner of the hall, filling the silence like water spilling into a room.
Thunderous applause meet her form her scaly new friends, yet the hat had just made her voyage a lot harder, as she now was met with murderous looks from the other tables. Something told her that her ability to play the lost little puppy was going to be tested to the most extreme limits and even more so, that how she carried herself now, would be vital to her mission and the next few years of her stay at this castle.
Weeks later...
It had taken some time for Hadrian to complete his latest feat of magic. A thunderstorm and a leaf which had rested in his mouth for the past month. It was a disgusting requirement, one that had ruined multiple of his meals at Durmstrang castle, yet the pay-off was grand.
The ability to turn into an Animagus, no matter which form, allowed opened up before never thought of possibilities.
Hadrian, for that matter, was rather happy with the animal he now was able to turn into. And while it may not allowed him to move discretely under a crowd of people, the form of a gigantic brown bear was certainly more intimidating than one of a rat or a beetle, at least for someone with his standards of appearance.
He had taken the time to work on this little project, simply to further himself, yet it hadn't taken up much of his own time. The group of Durmstrang acolytes certainly were more draining then his other activities.
He had taken to the library most of the ongoing year, trying to escape to the dull and repetitive nature of his Durmstrang years.
Currently, he was sitting at one of the hardwood chairs right before one of the few fireplaces in the whole castle. The comfort of the students wasn't a priority for the staff, not that he was complaining, it could be a lot worse. Yet a slightly more comfortable chair would have been nice.
His nose deep in one of the dusty tomes which had, until recently, remained in the headmaster's office, the other hand twirling the yew wood wand between his fingers. Victor and Stanislav had taken to their brooms and flew over the vast lands that surrounded the castle.
Hadrian didn't feel comfortable on a broom. Something about it being so easily breakable, so manipulable, made it rather unappealing to the young wizard.
He guessed that it had to do with the way his father had taught him, his very own spiel on constant vigilance and being aware of one's surroundings. A broom would make him vulnerable.
He was lost in his own thoughts, causing him not to realize that Natasha had just entered the room. Nor did he realize how she sat down next to him onto the other hardwood chair in front of the fireplace.
"Heavy reading this late in the evening?" she asked, a noticeable hint of mirth in her voice. Hadrian, being trained on surprises and surprise attacks didn't jump, remained clam, yet still looked up slightly surprised.
Natasha was a rather beautiful young woman. Her long brown hair, most of the time, bound to a ponytail or a plait, fell down onto her shoulders, her eyes, hidden behind round spectacles, entirely focused on his. She wasn't tall or well build in terms of muscle. She barely reached Hadrian's shoulder with the top of her head and possessed the body of a librarian rather than that of a fighter.
While it may have been impossible to be best in any class she shared with Hadrian, she always remained a close second and, he had no doubt, had he not gotten special training for the better part of his life she would have overtaken him in any non-wand subject by now.
Her usually cold grey eyes had lately taken up a noticeable warmth, the way she acted around and interacted with him had changed as well. She was a lot more mirthful and partially even took on teasing him, something which greatly annoyed him. It wasn't that he minded her being happier around him, yet it was the constant wish to be involved with everything and everyone that interacted with him that annoyed him most.
He liked the Slavic girl, yet he wouldn't hesitate a second if his father gave the order to relieve her of her duty as an acolyte. The same went for Stanislav.
Krum was an exception, a rare one indeed but deserved none the less. He was an important factor in Hadrian's plans and had little to no doubt what so ever that Victor would live up to his expectations and his father's demands.
It was just a few months ago that Hadrian solely trained with Krum, as the others had gotten onto his nerves. This was the contrast he possessed that mattered at the end of the day. Krum was one that knew when to talk and when to simply remain silent and do a job. Neither Hadrian nor Krum truly were children at heart. Something that shone through in their every fibre of being, the way they carried themselves and the way they acted. Hadrian had seen more death and blood then some of the children at Durmstrang would ever see, he had seen curses hurled at him by wizards far more powerful than any of the children at this school would ever face and he had seen magic and sorcery emit from the very tip of his wand that any of the children at this school could ever dream of.
Undoubtedly Hadrian was a skilled wizard, having reached a level of wizardry that many Aurors in the British ministry of magic wouldn't be able to ascend to and partially even further beyond. Dolohov and Karkaroff, his former duelling opponents used for training, weren't able to reach him at all, which was a strong indicator for the progress he had made. Solely his mentor and father Gellert was able to truly defeat him now, yet he didn't decide to flaunt his ability, nor did he plan to overestimate himself nor to underestimate his opponents.
He knew that his father wasn't the best dueller out there any more if he ever even had been. Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore were still the people he had to fear and would have to fear when it came to duelling. But both of the wizards possessed far greater skills than merely duelling, but so did he. Again, he wouldn't overestimate himself, the experience and ability that played into the skill set of his opponents still outweigh his by far. The experience was best gained on a battlefield, something Hadrian had, so far, nearly to no interactions with. Until that changed, he was able to learn all he could from a book, but in the end, would still be defeated by either one of them in a straight duel. Even his father, if he would ever try to kill him, would still have a very realistic chance at beating him in an unfair or even fair duel.
Hadrian knew that at the end of the day, it didn't matter how much he trained himself, how much he prepared, how much he advised his father's acolytes or what spells he knew. At the end of the day, it would come down to luck and resourcefulness. He at possessed at least one of the two.
But the first one would probably soon run out for the girl who had been carefully studying the inscriptions on the cover of the ancient tome.
"Yes, some heavy literature, I hadn't noticed that it had already grown late -" Hadrian slowly answered, his voice soft and eloquent. Natasha sensed the danger and quickly took a step back. She always had the ability to put her nose into things that didn't concern her one bit. A perk, or curse changing based on perspective, that had caused her great grief in the past and would be her end if she wasn't careful. Her life at this point almost entirely belonged to Grindelwald entirely. She remained only alive due to him allowing her to do so. Yet she remained so blissfully unaware of that.
It had little to do with the fact that she wasn't aware of the thin ice, but much more the fact that she wasn't aware of how thin the ice as she was strolling on.
"I'll return to my room once I've finished," Hadrian stated, his gaze shifting back to the book he was holding. Natasha cringed at the cold rush that accompanied the words, silently nodding and getting up, leaving the blond to his literature, only stopping at the door to wistfully look back at the boy before closing the large door behind her.
Hadrian sighed silently, closing the book. He wished nothing more than to privately continue his training within the walls of the old castle in the Austrian Alps. It was the same thing every year.
Hadrian was amazed by how unimportant the problems of the people around him were. Just a couple of hours ago he saw a few of the boys nearly kicking each other's heads in because they didn't agree on the result of a past Quidditch fixture. Or a group of girls that had quietly talked behind a girl's back, simply because they didn't agree with something she had said within the lessons.
Hadrian had more important matters to think about, and while some of the acolytes within his 'circle' at Durmstrang even understood what happened during the last war and what they would have to expect in the upcoming conflict, he had the numb feeling that there was a selection of people, a majority at that, who currently resided at school, who didn't realize the full weight of their decision to join Grindelwald into this conflict. Of course, there, at this point, was no guarantee that there would even be a conflict to begin with. But both he and his father knew that a peaceful take over of wizarding Europe was a thing of imagination and theory.
There would maybe be no escalation to a full-scale conflict, but the wizards that lived in these countries would be a hindrance due to their own beliefs and values. Some parts of the wizarding populations in occupied countries might rebel. Some countries might fall into a wizarding civil war. There truly was no way of knowing.
But this would one day be his concern, his problem, once the old man would give up his spot to his son. Not something either of them was truly looking forward to.
It was, after all, the goal of Grindelwald, that once the old man would step down, once he either had grown too old or died by a curse, Hadrian would step up and take the helm. It was the reason for his harsh and elongated training, the reason for his stay at Durmstrang.
But, as for his more normal side, he too sometimes felt his attention slipping into the depths of thought that his father wouldn't agree of. Usually, these kinds of thoughts spun around the beautiful petals of the bright and shining French flower that had manifested itself within his mind substituting for the enamouring Fleur Delacour.
She had become one of his, admittedly few, weaknesses, easily taking the top spot on that list. It had been years since he had last been allowed to see her. That one evening spent listening to the music of his violin, while she and her sister had been resting on his bed, silently charmed, entranced even, listening to every note that had fled the instrument.
She was his weakness.
A sentence that ghosted through his mind like a tumour every time he thought of her. He had to protect her at all costs, protect her from the watchful glare of his father and form all suspicion of her importance to him.
She had been his main drive when it came to furthering his mental arts and defensive magic. He would not allow his father to now about his attachment to the girl.
Should the old man suspect anything, he would get rid of the one thing that mattered so much to him.
Three years later.
September 1, 1994
The rain was pouring against the carriages which currently made their way from the little Hogsmeade train station up to the ancient castle.
Iris was sitting in one of them, together with a selection of other Slytherin students, who were all quietly chatting away. She twirled her black hair, which was still untamed and wild, making her look like a deranged woman making her mother proud, between her long fingers.
Her arms were decorated with scars and other blemishes, but her posture was one of whom who demanded respect and loyalty.
Yes, loyalty, something she had fought for and gained over the past few years by many of the older and younger Slytherin students. She was fourteen years old by now, yet she possessed the wizarding skill set of one who had finished school already. But not only that, she mastered many curses and hexes designed to hurt and torture those that she would believe to be disloyal. She knew to avoid casting an unforgivable on these school grounds and she knew to avoid being seen casting any other form of remotely dark magic.
She had, according to the plan of the Dark Lord, somewhat gained the trust of Albus Dumbledore, yet it was at a great cost she had managed this.
The old fool now knew of her past as a Potter, something that had in equal made matters easier and worse. Dumbledore had now taken to tutor her in some aspects of the 'light side' and his magic, yet he didn't explicitly trust her to such a degree to embrace her into his own ranks as he possibly would have if her original plan had succeeded. But at the same time, the man now tried to influence her and use her to his own advantage to ultimately defeat the Dark Lord. She now had to play a life as a double agent, yet the risk of actually compromising her standing was rather low, for now at least.
Her father was amused at the idea of having her fool the old man and at the end turn against his former teacher in a moment of personal weakness. He had often told the girl that he would love to see the old man's confused and hurt face when she would raise her wand against him.
But her closeness to the old headmaster also had another perk. She knew, somewhat at least, what he knew and what he was planning on doing. This, of course, being a normal perk for a double agent usually, meant that she could give information to her father which in turn helped his efforts. But this also meant that she was updated on another campaign that was currently playing out in the rest of wizarding Europe.
Gellert Grindelwald and his wizarding army made mighty strides towards domination of the wizarding world. Based on the information she managed to catch and find, Grindelwald currently was focusing on the southern parts of Europe, having successfully found mighty allies within Austrian, German, Hungarian and Scandinavian governments. There were even rumours of the French joining his cause, yet the intelligence of Dumbledore and his allies left much to wish for in terms of actual evidence.
The carriage came to a sudden stop, pulling the girl out of her musings, the chatter stopped and the students within said carriages began to exit to walk the few meters left towards the castle entrance themselves.
Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott flanked the black-haired girl, while Pansy and Malfoy walked slightly behind the three of them. A few other Slytherins walked with the group, yet they maintained a respectful distance from Iris herself.
Many Slytherin students already had the pleasure of being at the receiving end of one of her curses, an experience most of them wouldn't like to repeat.
The students filtered into the great hall, wet hair clinging to most peoples faces, happy chatter filled the hall. The four large tables, each representing the four houses of the ancient castle.
The teachers had already taken their seats at the head table, most notably the spot of the teacher for defence against the dark arts wasn't taken by a new teacher but rather remained empty. "Looks like they haven't found a replacement for old Professor Lupin after last year, pathetic really," Malfoy whispered to Iris, who had taken the place next to her. "Yeah," Pansy sniggered as she overheard what Malfoy said, "it makes you wanna spew! Or rather howl..." the group started laughing.
It had turned out, at the end of last year, that the defence against the dark arts teacher Professor Remus Lupin had a furry little secret, as Zabini liked to call it. It had been enough to force the teacher to resign his duty as a teacher and leave near the end of term, much to the dismay of many of the students of Hogwarts, who truly liked that teacher.
Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat at the centre of the table, the sorting ceremony had taken place and as usual, the students were introducing themselves to their new housemates, clearing his throat loudly and using his knife to cling against his glass to announce his intention of starting to speak.
The great hall fell silent, the students focused solely on him now, waiting for him to start speaking.
"I know that you all can't wait to finally eat and fall into bed after your long journey here, yet I can't let you go before I announce a few things that will impact your upcoming year." he shortly paused, letting the words reach the students before he continued talking.
"As some of you may have noticed, our seat reserved for the defence against the dark arts teacher remained empty throughout the sorting ceremony. This is due to the fact, that our teacher will arrive later this year, but more to that later. Until he does, I will personally take over the classes." with that announcement, the students fell into a heated discussion with their next bank neighbour. "It may have been a few years since I last toughed, yet I think I still got the hang of it, for a while at least." Dumbledore chuckled.
Malfoy sneered at the announcement before turning to the group of Slytherins and whispering "Good thing the position is cursed, maybe we'll be rid of the old fool before the end of the term." causing pansy to snigger. Theo only shook his head before answering silently as well "He just said it is only temporary, don't get your hopes up." before turning his attention back to the headmaster. Malfoy only grinned and whispered more to himself than to Theo or the others "Let a man dream.".
"But this isn't all, -" Dumbledore called out loudly, regaining the attention of the hall. "We'll also be playing host to two other schools from wizarding Europe this year, who'll be competing in one of the greatest tournaments the wizarding world is able to present." he made a dramatic pause before raising his voice and calling out loudly "The Triwizard Tournament"
A few weeks later.
"Now as many of you saw, the students from the other schools have Arrived today. They have spent the entire day getting day travelling here, so I expect you to give them a warm and lovely welcome here in this castle." Dumbledore intoned heavily, a tone that expected obedience and order, his vision shifted to the Gryffindor table to the two Weasley twins, notorious pranksters and childish Gryffindors at heart.
A few of the Slytherins, especially Draco, Iris and the others from the group, already knew who would be joining them for the remainder of the school year, as Draco's father had good ties with the minister of magic.
"Now please, quiet down and give a warm welcome to our brothers and sisters, the proud sons and daughters of Durmstrang and their headmaster Igor Karkaroff."
The door flew open and a group of maybe one and a half dozen students walked in. At the head of the group were four men. The two in the centre, were rather imposing figures, some that would demand the utmost respect and obedience by any they interacted with.
On one hand, the older of the two was tall, like Dumbledore himself, he seemed rather cheerful, yet his cold and hard eyes showed otherwise. He didn't seem genuine but rather unnerving, a man one would rather not want to come across in an empty alleyway late at night. He had a rather weak chin which he tired to hide with a goatee while he wore a sleek dress made from silver fur.
The other man wore a heavy black coat that hid most of his body, yet by the spring in his step, one could guess he was a rather athletic person. He had bright blond hair that came across as rather untamed and wild. His eyes, possibly his most impressive feature, shone brightly as if they were hiding great wisdom and power. But that wasn't necessarily the most impressive part about them, rather the fact that on shone in bright emerald green, while the other was ice blue. His rather aristocratic features were schooled into a neutral, expressionless face, yet if one regarded him closely, they would find that there was a hint of disgust in his eyes.
He was also rather tall, standing at roughly 6'5'' or 1.95 meters he towered even over the old man next to him. Walking about slightly behind his left shoulder was another tall boy, yet he proved to be a familiar face.
"Holy shit, that's Victor Krum-" a few students silently whispered among themselves. Many of whom had seen the Bulgarian fly in the World Cup final a few weeks back, playing as a seeker for his national team and catching the golden snitch, yet still losing said final against the Irish.
Iris herself had attended the Final as guests to the Malfoy family, who had invited her along with the other members of their group.
"Please find a seat at any of the tables here, we have made extra room for you," Dumbledore called out to the students while welcoming the Headmaster and the last of the four men who had led the group into the room. Malfoy had quickly forced the rest of the students to move one or two seats up and waved to the Bulgarian seeker and pointed to the space next to him. Victor saw the gesture and turned to the blond boy that had walked into the hall before him before pointing at the general direction of their group.
They seemingly started talking before the Bulgarian seeker raised his hands in a submissive manner before nodding and then looking to the other tables. A frown appeared on Malfoys face as he noticed this and turned to the others. "Who does that guy think he is?"
At that very moment, the blond boy turned around and looked directly at Malfoy and their group. Iris instantly felt a broadside hitting her mental defences in such a way that it nearly destroyed them in their entirety. She felt a slight panic rise within her by that moment. For a second she thought it could have been Dumbledore, yet he never would attack a student mentally in school. At least he had never done it before and that left her with the likely conclusion that the boy had just nearly ruined her entire plan to assassinate her headmaster, with a simple glance.
This boy was dangerous.
The blond boy turned to Victor and another two students pointing at the Slytherin table directly where they were sitting. Krum nodded, while the other two only hesitantly agreed.
"Better make space for more," Theo whispered to Draco, who had remained oblivious to what had transpired at the very head of the hall. Draco looked up to see the four students approach them.
"Move," the tall dark-haired boy said that had accompanied the three others to the Slytherin table, his eyes focused on Theo and Blaise. Both of them looked at each other and made moves to start getting up, before Malfoy loudly spoke up, his attention solely on the blond boy and Krum. "I don't remember inviting half of your school to sit here with us." he simply stated in calm, yet provocative, way. "Unless of course, they're your entourage -" Malfoy said, looking directly at Krum.
Victor was about to answer to the blond boy, before Hadrian put his hand on the back of his friend, just below his neck, urging Victor to let him handle the situation.
Victor closed his mouth again and simply focused on the other two Slytherins that were yet to move.
Hadrian put on his best smile and reached out to give the fourth year his hand. "I don't think we're on an even playing field here, Mr Malfoy, as I know your name yet you do not know mine." his voice sweet like silk yet sharp as a great sword, dangerous.
His father and the headmaster had provided him with the needed information about most of the important families in great Britten and their children who currently resided at Hogwarts. It could be helpful to get a few allies more on the British Isles before they made themselves known, and while most pureblood families were understandably against their cause, it never harmed anyone to try and make allies with potential enemies to shorten the risk of all-out war.
The Malfoys were one of those families. They had close ties to the British minister and the ministry of magic, making them in the eyes of Grindelwald useful potential allies, yet their ties with the Dark Lord Tom Riddle were tough and hard to be broken by a single attempt. It was one of the reasons that Hadrian was sent to represent their school in this ridiculous tournament.
"My name is Hadrian Aaronovitch, but you may call me Adrian," Hadrian spoke swiftly. "Our family used to live in Bulgaria, yet the conflicts in our international wizarding community drove us to Germany over the past few generations. We are an, as you may call it, a most ancient and noble family who takes pride in our traditions." Hadrian intoned the last bit slightly still holding out his hand. "One of them is the wish for satisfaction once someone disrespects our family -" this time, his gaze slightly shifted from the boys face to his own hand before it returned to his face, slightly raising an eyebrow.
"You know, you probably should take his hand Draco," Iris whispered into his ear, still not having forgotten what had happened to her defences after a simple two-second touch of Legilimency send to her by the boy who was currently being disrespected by her very own best friend.
It took another five seconds before Malfoy stood up and took Hadrian's hand, a slightly annoyed look on his face. His eyes never leaving the Blond boys face, with his attention turned to both Nott and Zabini as well as Parkinson he told them to clear up and search for another place to sit. The three gladly did, as they felt slightly intimidated by both the presence of an international Quidditch star as well as one of a person who had an extremely unnerving aura around him.
"Sit" Hadrian mentioned to the others, the dark-haired boy who first spoke to Nott and Zabini walked around the table to sit down next to Malfoy, while both Natasha and Krum sat down on each side leaving Hadrian enough space to sit down in-between them.
Igor Karkaroff, who had watched the events unfold from a distance, had slowly covered the distance between the two and the teachers table, as he was now standing a few meters down the table before barking something in Bulgarian to his own student who ever so slightly shook his head, his eyes never leaving those of the Slytherin. Karkaroff stepped closer to the Hogwarts student before speaking silently, yet loud enough to be heard by the others how were around them and had followed the unfolding events, "Don't play vith vire boy. Take dis as a vord ov varning.".
This caused Malfoy to break eye contact with Hadrian to look at the Bulgarian headmaster, who had already turned around and made his way back up to the teacher's table.
Iris gently pulled Malfoy down onto his seat by his uniform, seemingly defusing the situation in its entirety, as Hadrian also sat down and gently began talking to Natasha in a hushed Bulgarian.
"Now that all our Bulgarian friends have been seated, -" Dumbledore spoke loudly, causing the remaining students who either hand not found a seat to find one or to stop talking to their neighbour. Most of the Durmstrang students had taken a seat at either the Ravenclaw or the Slytherin table, yet leaving enough space for other students to take place if the need should arise.
"- I would like to introduce you all, to the lovely witches and chivalrous wizards of Beauxbatons. Give them a warm welcome." Dumbledore, again intoning the latter part of his statement, began clapping, as the door opened and a selection of students, about the same size as the one from Durmstrang entered the hall, led by a woman who, while letting on she was in a more advanced age than the headmaster of Durmstrang, still emitted an aura of determination. Her face and body led on that she once must have been a more than stunning lady, and while she may have come into higher age, she still showed that beauty in parts. Her hair was in parts golden blond in parts white, she had bright green eyes and was maybe a few inches over five feet tall.
"Some of you may have heard that the former headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madam Maxim, left the school and was replaced about three years ago by Madame De Lune," Dumbledore explained.
'Madame De Lune' Hadrian thought, a smile creeping onto his face. He had heard that his father had replaced the old Headmistress, as she was too friendly with Dumbledore and instead put Queenie Goldstein in charge of the school. She had quickly created a personality with Claire De Lune, which basically meant moonshine, as Goldstein wasn't really a name a French person would possess.
But Hadrian's smile quickly fell, as he spotted a student amongst the line of beautiful French girls, he really had hoped he wouldn't be seeing.
His weakness had followed him to a place where he needed it the least. While he had hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, he knew it would and so he had somewhat expected to see her here. She always had been a bright student and a bright young lady at that.
It had been years and years since he had last seen her. Deep down he had hoped it would be years and years from now until he would see her again.
Fleur Delacour was standing a few feet behind her headmistress within the great hall of Hogwarts. It was a lousy castle. Cold and filled with rough British boys and pride full as well as envious British girls. Six years she had spent in the pompous halls and towers of Beauxbatons in France. Warm weather and beautiful sun.
She wasn't happy at the prospect of spending a few months in the cold and rain-filled north of the British isles, yet she had been selected to join her delegation of students to the castle in the Scottish mountains. She was one of the best students the school could offer, which was high praise. Yet right now, she wished she wouldn't have put that much effort into her grades after all.
But neither the climate nor the school's architecture was her biggest problems. It was the fact that she, as a part veela by blood and a full veela by appearance, would have to spent nearly an entire school year in the presence of ogling boys and bitchy girls, who had never seen a veela before.
This, among others, was the main reason that she currently felt a major chunk of the attention of the hall on herself. She could almost feel every single one of them looking at her, yet there was one stare, one look, that was different from the others.
She felt it differently, almost gentle in contrast to the others.
Fleur turned in the hall, looking along all and every one of the tables. In the back of her mind, a memory began unravelling. She still saw the hall, yet the smell, the sound and even the taste of the air were different than just a few moments ago. She felt a cold breeze washing over her, the air tasted fresh like taking a deep breath at sea or on a mountain. There was music playing. The scent of her sister crept into her nose among those of parchment and freshly made sheets.
The music slowly became louder and louder, the longer she looked down the tables of the hall, trying to find a familiar face.
She recognized the instrument, a set of strings, a violin. The smell of a wood-burning in a fireplace, parchment from an old book, the freshly made sheets of a soft bed, the sent and even the snoring of her younger sister so many years ago, and finally, the smell of him. An indescribable scent.
At that very moment, she locked eyes with the boy she had last seen so many years ago. A boy that had grown to her heart and had found a resting place there.
The blond hair, the blue and green eyes, the chiselled jaw and the unmistakable presence of a strong man how knew how to get what he wanted.
Harry.
She screamed in her mind. Memories rushing back of days spent sitting under a tree near Delacour manor looking at clouds. Days spent playing with fantastical beasts that her father kept, him telling her all about them, while she simply would listen to his voice.
Harry.
The longing she felt since they had last seen each other. The wish to visit him in his castle. The wish to hug him, to hold him tight. To simply listen to him play his violin.
Harry Potter.
A/N: to clear up any misunderstandings: I don't plan to give up this story soon but rather to continue writing it... I may become slightly disconnected from my characters but I won't stop so easily...
This story is a lot of fun and I hope you enjoy it too.