Chapter 4: Durmstrang

1 September 1991

It was a lie.

The phrase became Harry's mantra and he recited it with a religiousness the Pope would have praised.

It was a lie. It had to be.

After all, the very idea that he was a bastard was absolutely ridiculous! His parents had been together since…well, since he could remember. Besides, Father wasn't the type to cheat on Mother. And Mother was as prim and proper as purebloods went. She detested the notion of infidelity; uttering the word in her presence was taboo. No, she'd rather leave Dad then stand the disgrace.

"What's to say you weren't born before?" a voice looming behind him whispered. "After all, you're parents weren't always together now. You could be a love child with your Father's fling. Didn't Uncle Sirius say your Father had a few women back in the day?"

There was no way that could be true.

"But…why not?"

It just couldn't be.

"So confident about yourself…or is it just fear of the truth? Look for the truth, Harry. Look."

No.

"This will haunt you if you don't. You'll think about this day and night, like you have for the past three days."

I…

"We both know it. Stop running away, Harry. Or would you rather keep living a lie?"

My life isn't a lie!

"But you'll never be sure, will you? Not unless you find out for real. After all, how could knowing the truth hurt more than you're already hurting?"

But…where do I start? Do I ask somebody?

"The adults will never tell you what you want to know. 'You're too young'. 'I'll tell you when you're older'. 'It's a grown up thing.' Heard of those before? No, Harry, we ask the first question. Why can't it be true?"

Mother wouldn't stand it.

"Have you ever considered maybe you're the reason she hates bastards? Because your Father had one, had you? You're a constant a reminder to her that your Father loved someone else once, enough to sire a child. Wouldn't that just kill her inside?"

Dad wouldn't.

"But he did."

They'd been together since-

"since you could remember? Yet, how far back does your memory stretch? Not too far now that you think about it, right?"

As much as Harry wanted to deny it, it did make a whole lot of sense. It explained why his mother loved Robert more. It explained why his parents were always fighting. It explained why his mother still looked at him like he was a stranger. Why her eyes were ice towards him. Why he seemed to burn her with his touch.

The voice ceased to speak, but it left him with the dreaded certainty of knowing.

He was a half-blood. He was a bastard.

-The Magnate-

6 September 1991

Robert huffed. "It's going to be dull here with you gone."

"I'm sure mother will keep you busy." Harry, donning a dress shirt and a pair of brown, wool pants, looked his outfit over in front of the mirror, debating whether or not he needed a tie to look muggle enough. "Do you think I'll blend in?"

"I dunno, I guess?" Robert's words didn't fill him with much confidence. "What do I know of muggle robes?" Finally settling on no tie, Harry grabbed his wand from his bedside stand. "You'll write home, right?" Robert said.

Harry paused, an incredulous expression settling in. "Course I will. Why wouldn't I?"

Robert's shoulders rose and fell as they headed downstairs. "You've just…been so distant lately."

"I was studying."

"The last two weeks were different. You never came out of your room aside from meals, sometimes not even then." Had he really? Harry had been trying to avoid his parents ever since that night in Vienna, but he didn't think anyone had realized. "It's like you've been avoiding everyone."

Harry frowned. "Not everyone. Just, I didn't feel like talking."

"Did I do something to make you mad?" he said all of a sudden, his eyes growing wide with horrid understanding.

"What? No!" Harry answered immediately. "It's nothing."

Robert continued to eye him warily. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Trust me, it's nothing you did."

His face lit up like Christmas had come early. "Okay brother!" James was waiting for him by the door, absently reading through a copy of The Daily Prophet.

"I'll see you on Christmas," Harry said, then, with conscious choice, leaned forward to hug him, "Brother."

And in his heart, he knew it was true no matter what his parents said.

Unlike Hogwarts, which preferred the use of locomotive transport, Durmstrang preferred to use ships, or so, Harry could surmise from their instructions to assemble on some random strip of coast. King's Cross had Platform 9 and ¾; a sort of barrier only magical could cross if his dad's description was to be trusted. Maybe there was something similar he needed to do here? The letter wasn't very clear on what to do after getting to the beach.

"Did the letter say anything else?" James asked, looking just as lost as him.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I remember. Let me check again." He patted down his pockets in search of the acceptance letter.

A loud "Pop!" heralded more arrivals. Harry's eyes latched on instinct to the older of the two, a tall woman with light brown skin. What struck Harry the most about her, though, were her long, brown, slanting eyes. They had a glint to them that was both predatory and regal.

The younger of the two was a familiar face. "Buongiorno, Harry. How was Vienna?"

"Good to see you, Blaise. It was pretty cool actually, a lot different from England."

James and the woman, Blaise's mother presumably, exchanged greetings that were neither cordial nor cold. They knew each other, or at least, knew of each other.

Blaise threw glances around curiously. "I'm not late, am I?" he asked. "I mean, this place looks utterly deserted."

"It was like this when we got here," Harry told him.

"Alright," Blaise said, turning to him again before frowning as he scrutinized Harry's getup. "What are you wearing?"

"Muggle clothes. Dad thought there'd be some around."

"Well, there aren't so go put a robe on. You look ridiculous!"

In the period of time it took him to find his blood red Durmstrang robes from his trunk and put it on, two more groups had joined them; a brother and a sister with their mother and a blonde, dreamy-eyed girl with her equally dazed father.

Blaise nudged Harry with his elbow. "Think they're headed to Durmstrang too?" he whispered.

"Doubt it. They're uniforms don't look anything like ours." The three all sported sky blue clothing that looked to be of silk, hardly winter clothing. They would freeze if they went to Durmstrang wearing that.

"Hello," the girl with the far-away countenance greeted. "You've got a nasty infestation of Wrackspurts."

The only reaction Harry could muster was blinking. How was one supposed to react to that anyhow?

"Sorry?" Blaise leaned forward, just as puzzled. "What are Wrackspurts?"

"Oh, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of them. They're not talked about much anymore. Wrackspurts are creatures that float into your ear and make your brain go fuzzy." she said matter-of-factly. "I'm Luna, by the way. Luna Lovegood."

"Nice to meet you, Luna," Harry said. "Er, these Wrackspurts, was it? How come we can't see them?"

"They're invisible of course." she said with a look of utter seriousness, yet somehow maintained the air of distinct eccentricity about her. "Nothing to worry about though. Thinking positive thoughts can cure you of them easily."

Harry was left wondering if she was really crazy or if she was pulling one on them. "So where are you headed?" Blaise asked, steering the conversation towards more relatable grounds.

"The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, in the Pyrenees." she said. "I'm hoping I can continue my research on Quibbling Skivers there. France has the largest concentration in the world."

Having neither heard of "Quibbling Skivers", nor the inclination to know what it was, Harry decided to just nod along and pretend he knew what she was talking about. "Fascinating. Well, I wish you best of luck on your 'research'."

The sarcastic lilt at the end went unnoticed for she beamed at him and bid them a genuine farewell, before skipping back to her father. Literally, she skipped.

"Odd little girl." Harry said.

"Completely barmy," Blaise agreed.

"She looks rather young. Does Beauxbatons accept students her age?"

Blaise stroked his chin contemplatively. "Not sure. I mean they do have this preteen 'cultural preparedness' course."

"'Cultural preparedness?'" Harry repeated with a disdainful snort. "What, do they teach you the proper way to pick up a spoon during dinner?"

"More or less," Blaise said. "Complete waste of time really. It's the reason Mum chose Durmstrang in the end."

The mighty roar of falling water, not unlike a waterfall, reached his ears. They turned to see a ship rising out of the depths. The sails unfurled, the proud sigil of Durmstrang displayed on the mainsail. A man stood on the ship's maintop, the brief glints of sun striking his body to give him an ethereal appearance. The frigate finished surfacing but remained in place. Instead, a rowboat was lowered and it glided towards the beach at a pace that left no doubt magic was involved.

"Durmstrang all aboard! Durmstrang all aboard!" a man shouted in German as soon as the boat hit the sand.

Harry made to pick up his trunk, only to find his dad was already dragging it forward. By the time he had caught up, he saw the man who had been shouting engaged with James in a conversation.

"…strung takes the safety of all its students very seriously. Each Durmstrang ship is accompanied by two Masters and three Aurors."

"Aurors? From which Ministry?"

"All Ministries which have an interest in Durmstrang's security volunteer. The ones on this ship are from Norway, Germany and Finland," the man explained patiently. "These Aurors, aside from taking vows, are all alumni of our school. They are loyal without a doubt. Now really sir, we must be on our way soon if we wish to make it for the Opening Feast."

James grabbed Harry and enveloped him in a warm embrace. "Keep out of trouble, okay?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It'll be fine Dad."

James nodded, parting reluctantly so his son could board. The moment Harry was on the rowboat it took off again, returning to the ship at an even faster rate. Harry looked back to his father who stood in silent vigil on the beach. He did not move until the ship was out of sight.

"Einherjar?" Blaise's words drew his gaze to the ship's name on the frigate's side.

"It's from Viking mythology. Einherjar, the warriors brought to Valhalla by the Valkyries," the man provided. His companion, a gruff man, grunted in agreement. "Oh, Master Herodotus, by the way. I teach History."

"Good morning, Master Herodotus. I'm Blaise Zabini."

"Harry Potter," Harry followed a moment later.

"Yes, yes, I know who you two are. The new Brits Durmstrang will be housing." Herodotus peered at them through his round spectacles. "British enrollees have been rarer and rarer since Albus Dumbledore took the reins of Hogwarts. Plenty of inquiries, but few of them ever chose Durmstrang in the end. I suppose it was only a matter of time we'd get some Brits again with Dumbledore gone really. Peculiar, but I suppose given the acceptance policies of the school, it's not too hard to understand why."

Harry and Blaise exchanged looks but kept silent.

"The changing ethnic composition of the Durmstrang student populace is simply a fascinating field of research," Herodotus continued. "I'm no expert, of course, that would be Master Pajari!" He chuckled to himself, sounding rather awkward in Harry's opinion. His unnamed Auror companion sighed. "He has a theory on how we can project the long term future of countries relative to each other by using ratios of Durmstrang students…" Harry continued to nod politely as the man droned on. Blaise had this glassy-eyed look on his blank face.

As they drew progressively closer to the ship, its finer details became noticeable. Aside from its sails – which remained in prime, almost mint, condition – there was no evidence the ship was propelled physically.

Its masthead though, that was the centerpiece. A winged beauty watching over the sea, one hand held a sword while the other bathed in flames. There was a certain something to it, some invisible force at work that demanded you pay attention.

Herodotus must have noticed Harry's gaze lingered on the carving, for he decided it was an opportune time to discuss the subject. "Ah, interested in the masthead I see! It's a Valkyrie, the chooser of the slain in Norse Mythology. They were a host of females who descended from the heavens, tasked with deciding a man's fate in battle. Notice, however, the wings and their manipulation of fire? What do they remind you of?"

Blaise beat Harry to the answer. "Veelas."

Herodotus bobbed his head eagerly. "Exactly! The uncanny resemblance of Valkyries to the Veela have led many scholars to conclude they were one and the same. The fact that Scandinavia has the highest Veela-to-wizard ratio in the world seems to support this idea. Next to them, of course, would be the Brazilian Veelas Tribes which were discovered…"

Thankfully, the rowboat was soon hoisted back onto the deck, sparing the boys from listening to the tiring, albeit mildly interesting, teacher.

"You boys best get below deck before we go under," the Auror that had accompanied Herodotus said, directing them towards a descending staircase not far from where they stood.

The ship fitted five floors underdeck comfortably, far more than what should have been naturally possible.

"Let's see if this room's available," Blaise said, rapping his knuckles against the wood door, a sigil of some sort noticeably carved into it, twice. "Huh, no answer."

Harry tried the door across. "This one too."

Blaise grasped the knob with both hands, shaking it furiously, but it stubbornly refused to turn.

"Rövhål!" spat a voice from the inside. It was followed by a rapid string of incomprehensible words.

"What language was that even in?" Blaise asked and Harry shrugged.

"It's occupied!" the voice said, in German now. "Go somewhere else!"

Harry smoothly strode towards the door and in a voice louder than necessary, said, "Thanks!" He tugged at his trunk, heading further down the hallway. "C'mon Blaise, let's see if we can find a place over there."

A half hour and two floors later, they were still searching. Blaise banged on the door twice.

A girl's voice greeted them, though neither understood a word that was said. "I thought German was supposed to be standard," Harry muttered. Still, the tone seemed relatively welcoming, not that that was saying much given their treatment so far. "Mind if we share the room with you lot? Everywhere else is full," he said.

"Certainly," the same voice answered. "The door's open."

Harry opened the door with one hand, the other purposely dragging his trunk inside with some effort. In the center of the room sat two blondes opposite each other, a boy immersed in a book and a girl looking right at them. Another girl with a head of gold sat by the charmed window on the far wall, watching the fish swim by.

"Thanks for having us," Blaise said, dropping his trunk by theirs. "The name's Blaise and this is Harry."

"A pleasure to meet you," the girl that spoke earlier said. "I'm Dayna, this is Damarion," -she pointed to the boy sitting across her, who offered them a friendly wave before returning to his book- "and over there is Astrid." The girl by the window turned to them briefly and smiled softly, tucking a blonde lock behind her ear.

As far as Harry could tell, she wasn't wearing any makeup. Astrid's lips were a rich shade of red, soft and luscious. Her skin was pearly white and you could practically feel how smooth it was just by looking. She had a slender neck and high cheekbones, but most striking of all was her hair. It wasn't golden like Daphne's or a dirty blonde like Lavender's. Sun-kissed, perhaps, was the best word for it.

"Where are you two from?" Dayna asked.

Astrid's attention had returned to the window and Harry reluctantly broke his gaze. "Britain," he said. "Yourself?"

"All three of us are from Sweden, same village in fact," she said. "Britain huh? Fascinating. What's it like there? I've always wanted to go."

"It's either foggy or rainy nine days out of ten," Harry said, seating himself, "and the other one is foggy and rainy."

"Isn't your friend going to sit down?" Damarion asked, finally setting aside his book on an empty chair.

Blaise was still standing by the trunks, staring brazenly at Astrid.

"Blaise?" Harry called out. "You alright mate?" No answer. "It's rude to stare you know."

He blinked, his face scrunched in confusion. "Was I? Sorry." He shook his head before walking over to join them.

"She's used to it," Damarion said. "You two might be the only wizards on this ship not from Nordenjord."

"Norden-what now?" Blaise said. Harry frowned as well.

"Nordenjord," he repeated.

Blaise glanced at Harry. "Is that a country?"

"Not one I've heard of," Harry answered. "We're terrible at geography," he said by way of explanation.

"It's Scandinavia, basically," Dayna said.

"Scandinavia and Iceland," Damarion corrected.

Dayna rolled her eyes. "Right. Anyway, we were talking about the Placement Exams before you two showed up. Any idea how you'll fare?"

The Placement Exams, Harry recalled, had been discussed in his acceptance letter. It was a test administered to new students to determine their level at a particular subject. Durmstrang prided itself in cultivating magical talent, and did so by allowing talented students to learn at their own pace.

"I'm decent at Transfiguration and Potions I guess, but I haven't really studied much on the other subjects," Blaise said. Smirking, he continued. "I'd be surprised if Harry didn't make at least third year though."

Harry threw a dirty look at him. Not because it wasn't true - because objectively his skill at Charms was at that point, even Miss Lily had said so - but rather, he didn't see the need to tell people that.

"Third year?" Astrid repeated, staring at him with renewed interest. She walked over to one of the free chairs. "That's impressive!"

"Are you really?" Damarion asked, a hint of skepticism coloring his words. Not surprising given how bold the claim.

Harry shrugged. "Blaise is a lot more confident about it than I am."

"After seeing your stint with the flame animation, how could I not be? It was solid second year work," he said. "And knowing you, you probably studied excessively the last two months to round out your Charms. Am I right?"

"…Maybe." Blaise's smirk turned into a victorious grin. "Oh, stuff it, Zabini. With the way you're acting, you'd think it was you who's getting bumped up two years."

"Well, I'm a friend of someone who is. It's the next best thing y'know, without the need to practice."

"How so?" Astrid asked.

"Free Charms tutor."

Harry glared at his so called friend. "Just for that, I'm going to teach you wrong."

If anything, Blaise's insufferable grin grew wider.

Astrid laughed, drawing the boys' attention towards her again. It felt...strange. Astrid was pretty, Harry couldn't deny, but he didn't feel anything in particular. There was just something naturally compelling about her.

Blaise wasn't faring any better as a dreamy expression settled onto his face. He seemed perfectly happy just listening to her voice.

"Better reign it in, Astrid. They don't seem to be faring well."

"Sorry." Astrid stared at her lap intently.

And just like that, a pressure he didn't even know was there dissipated. Her beauty hadn't diminished and, in a few years, Harry was certain she'd be quite the looker. It's just he no longer felt compelled to pay attention to her.

"What was that?" Blaise blinked, his eyes swerving wildly.

"You don't know?" Damarion asked incredulously. "It was her allure, obviously."

"Her allure?" Harry asked, frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Damarion looked to the heavens and sighed.

"Astrid's a Veela," Dayna said. "Her allure can hit pretty hard if you don't know it's there."

Blaise took a closer look at her. "Huh. Weird." He paused. "Aren't Veela danger-OW!" Blaise glared at Harry who met it unflinchingly.

"The allure is no Imperius," Damarion said. "If you know it's there, you can shrug it off easily."

"It's not quite that simple, but Damarion isn't entirely wrong," Dayna said. "I never found it much of a bother myself."

"I thought Veela only affected men?" Blaise asked, more Harry than anyone else.

"I know just as much as you," he said.

-The Magnate-

Blaise hurriedly jumped back into the ship's walled lower deck, shaking violently as a blast of bone-chilling air hit him. "Merlin's Beard! It's freezing out there!"

"That's what the winter coat's for," said Harry, sidestepping him easily to get outside. The Einherjar had surfaced five minutes ago, signaling that Castle Durmstrang was near. It wasn't surprising that the excitable first years rushed to the deck in order to get a glimpse of the school.

Even with his crimson fur coat layered with a strong warming charm, the cold still seeped into his bones. Harry wondered if he should've brought warmer clothes, because there was no way he could survive three months of this temperature.

"Don't worry about it," Dayna said, peering over the ship's side. "It'll be much warmer on Castle grounds, where the mountains shield you from the wind."

Taking heart at the words, Harry joined her. Some of the merfolk – the non-predatory cousins of the sirens – were lounging near the ship. Occasionally, one of the children would wave or swim alongside. Einherjar slowed its pace considerably as it entered an inland river. The faint outline of a castle was visible in the distance and mountaintops peaked over even the castle's highest tower.

The midday sun hung low in the sky, its light framing the landscape in an almost mystical way. Hues of orange and shades of red mixed freely with earthly brown and green. Some of the merfolk continued to trail behind them lazily, soaking up what sun they could.

"Ah, dearest students!" a professor's all too familiar voice said from their six. "Enjoying the autumn view, I see?"

"Yes, Master Herodotus," Dayna answered in a resigned tone.

"It'll last for a few more weeks, I reckon. Autumn was slow to come this year, so it'll be a while before winter overtakes it. Master Vinter was just telling me the other day how the polar nights might last even longer this year, " he said, nodding to himself knowingly. "Say, do you know about this river we're on?"

He was talking until they got to Durmstrang itself, a full twenty minutes talking about the waterway, called the Angren river and its origins, the Twin Lakes of Nordloch and Sudenmere that lay within the outer walls of Durmstrang. These were merpeople sanctuaries apparently.

Harry had mastered the art of tuning him out by the time they had crossed the Angrenost – the outer wall's river portcullis that served as the main entrance of the school. A menacing obelisk made of black stone towered beside the gate, built into the very wall. Though calm, Harry was left with the impression that it could become the center of powerful, malevolent energy at a moment's notice.

A surprisingly vast expanse of plant life and trees existed even this far north, covering wide stretches of land to either side of the river. Noticeably, there were fewer of these once they passed through the gate. It was already impressive hiding the Highmaster's tower from prying muggle eyes, much less the acres of land.

Beyond the raised portcullis of the castle itself were ships from varying ages and places, resting on the calm waters as students disembarked. The empty ones sailed further forward before veering off to either side of a fork. These must have lead to the Twin Lakes, Harry thought. It would make sense that the ships would dock there when not in use.

Finally, it was their turn to leave the ship.

"Quickly everyone! To the Feasting Hall!" Herodotus shouted over the low chatter of children. "Your luggage will be sent to your dorms, so don't worry about those!"

The halls were at least ten men wide, so even with the influx of students, it wasn't really crowded. Harry and Blaise contented themselves with following the crowd, bringing up the rear. There were nearly a thousand students gathered and even the Feasting Hall's immense size was barely enough to seat them all. Despite the absence of any prearranged seating, the first years opted to stay with their shipmates. Among the older students, intermixing was more frequent, although Germans and Russians as an unspoken rule didn't interact.

Once they were all seated, a scholarly looking elder rose from the staff table. The murmurings died to respectful silence as he prepared to address them.

"Sons and Daughters of Durmstrang," he began, a charm amplifying the sound by several magnitudes, "welcome home!" If he was expecting a reaction from the students, he got it in spades. A kind smile appeared on his face as he waited for the explosive cheering to settle. "To our youngest members, warmest greetings! I am Zelislav Dvorsky, Highmaster of this fine establishment."

"Our Institute is one of the oldest in Europe. We have produced some of the greatest witches and wizards of the world. To be a student here is also to be a part-" here he coughed violently, but everyone waited without a word, "-to be a part of its rich history and tradition. I hope that all of you will continue to live up to the Durmstrang name."

"In the next few days, first termers, you will undergo a series of tests to determine your aptitude in each subject. Those who are advanced enough will be assigned higher level classes. Not to fear though, for those subjects which you have no knowledge of, you will be placed in an introductory class. This procedure is merely to ensure our students learn at their own rate. Here at Durmstrang, we believe in cultivating excellence through competition and-" *cough* "-the recognition of talent."

"To help our fine new additions in adjusting to the unique culture of our school, you will be paired up, as is tradition, with an older student who will act as your guide during the uncertain first steps into our world. Trust in them, trust in the system, but most importantly, trust in yourselves." He raised his golden cup in salute. "Hail Durmstrang!"

"Hail Durmstrang!"