Chapter Five
Amazingly beta-ed and edited by the equally amazing BunnySummers
He honestly wished he could define those hours inside those magically enlarged quarters as a dull waste of his precious time, but he couldn't. It should have been an excruciating exercise in patience, talking about everything this adolescent had in five years; from the brewing of decidedly easy draughts to a first-time success at brewing a Dreamless Potion. The truth was that time hadn't passed so swiftly for Severus Snape in years. Ernest Hamilton was a good listener and an outstanding student; he clearly hadn't merely memorized a few ingredients just to impress his no doubt pathetic professor. No, the boy really did have a breathtaking aptitude for the craft. He researched, read, tested, and invented, making many mistakes, but also getting a few things right and all of this at the mere age of 15. To say that Snape was absolutely fascinated would be an understatement; he was agog and very much inspired to start that year.
Severus let the youth talk. So interested was he in what Ernest had to say, Severus even forbore the interruptions of the Blasted-Boy-Who-Lived.
It was this rare display of tolerance that told Harry just how much his former professor was actually enjoying their conversation. Sure there were the expected derogatory comments and acidic anecdotes, mostly at his own expense, but Harry noted that the subject never strayed too far from potions. Given their long and antagonistic history, Harry figured that Snape's sniping was an ingrained response to his presence and that the man felt at risk to eternal damnation if he failed to verbally attack "The Golden Boy" when the opportunities presented themselves
Ernest, for his part, contemplated the duo, as he listened to Master Snape's bored, yet sneering drawl voicing his opinions on the latest discoveries from those the Wizarding World called potion's geniuses and whom he called "pathetic excuses for brewers". He listened attentively to every cuttingly insightful word the older man said, and decided that he was likely even more brilliant than Professor Potter had ever let on. On the other hand, with every snort and sneer, Ernest felt sure that the Potions professor was every bit as difficult to please as Professor Potter had claimed.
As far as Ernest could see, Severus Snape had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, especially knowledge of a questionable type. He could understand that, as a Potions Master, Snape would want to talk to him about the properties and complexities of the Blood Reducing Potion. However, when it came to a discussion of the ethics of its many varied and questionable uses, Snape's glowering black eyes grew enticingly darker, giving lie to the impassivity of his face and contemptuous tone of his voice -- here was passion
Professor Potter, on the other hand, was completely different. His focus was on healing and restoring potions, as well as those which could help victims of the Dark Arts. The way he taught was a testament to Professor Potter's beliefs. Everyone in Ernest's year knew of – even if they would never successfully brew it – the Draught of Peace and the Strengthening Potion.
Ernest knew that he was at Durmstrang for reasons other than that of being a werewolf or that both his father and older brother had attended. No, it was that he had always been interested in the Dark Arts, a fact that no one would associate with a rather scrawny and extremely polite child. Most of the wizarding world looked on the study of the Dark Arts with suspicion, fearing their corrupting influence. However, Ernest was already a dark creature and had been since he'd been bitten at the tender age of 5. He was more than aware that once a person had been touched by Dark magic, life was never the same again, but he sincerely doubted that anything, not even the study of the Dark Arts, would have the same impact on his life as finding himself a monster and an orphan in the same day.
Severus could see the desire for knowledge, understanding, and a reckless detachment for the consequences in the depths of Mr. Hamilton's rich amber eyes. The adolescent was everything most his age weren't: subdued, patient and focused. In those hours of the journey, there was never one moment when the boy seemed to drift off in his own reverie or be bored enough to look visibly uninterested. He was with two men, who together were more than 50 years his senior and he actually seemed to be comfortable and intellectually engaged.
Harry knew his student's unblinking focus and the nods at the end of every phrase to be a sign of absolute attention and appraisal. He knew that Ernest would appreciate Snape in a way Harry had rarely ever seen anyone so young do. He remembered that the Slytherins back in his time at school looked up to Snape, they respected him, but few, if any of them claimed to actually like him.
The only one who seemed remotely close to liking Snape had been Malfoy, who only seemed to drop his absurd devotion to his Head of House's classes, if he had the opportunity to snarl or laugh at Harry. Although, truth be told, Malfoy could simultaneously mock and brew with no ill effects to the potion at hand. As a student, Harry had believed that Malfoy's good grades were solely as a result of Snape's favouring his own house, but as a professor of potions came the realization that, favouritism aside, Malfoy more than deserved every one of the Potions professor's compliments. The fact that Hermione had also deserved compliments and had not received them, Harry could definitely put down to Snape's favouritism of all things Slytherin and dislike of all things Gryffindor.
It was only when Harry began teaching potions himself that he realized that Malfoy had really been exceptionally good at Potions. Harry didn't know why that thought suddenly hit him square on the head, but hit him it had during his second year teaching at Durmstrang. It had been nearing the end of a third-year class and he had asked his students to hand in their potions samples. The results were less than impressive. Of the sixteen boys and girls in the class, there had been only one who had actually gotten the draught right. One of them had even turned it into a corrosive substance that had made a five-inch wide hole on his desk. But what had really hit him was a sudden memory from his own school days.
Snape had assigned them the same draught. If he remembered correctly, Neville had also managed to create the same; or a very similar, acid substance as Harry's student and, predictably, Snape had been a git to him in front of the whole class.
He and Ron hadn't even gotten close to the correct brew, but Ron had gotten away with it while he hadn't. Snape had questioned both his mental and motor abilities. The final potion should have been fuschia in color, but Harry's had been deep purple and Ron's a maroon that not even Hermione could explain. Even with the rainbow of colorful vials on Snape's desk, Harry was acutely aware of seeing two vials with the right color. At the time he hadn't paid it much attention because he was too busy gritting his teeth so he wouldn't tell his Potions professor to bugger off, but after many years he was assaulted by the obvious conclusion. One of the vials had been Hermione's – she had told him that he should have had stirred clockwise for 10 minutes then counter-clockwise for 10 seconds and not the other way around – and the other one could only possibly have been Malfoy's.
Blaise had once told him, in a shared drunken stupor during a New Year's Eve at the castle two years before, that Snape, contrary to popular belief, hadn't really cared whether any of the Slytherins were remarkably efficient at potions or not with the exception of one.
"In reality he couldn't care less, I guess," the former Dark Arts professor had slurred. "You have seen me brewing; I was only just passable at Potions. I couldn't brew correctly to save my life. At least, not if I only had time for one try," Zabini had joked, making Harry laugh.
"The only one from whom he expected results was Draco. We could all fail potions and he wouldn't give a damn, but if Draco was anything short of perfect, Snape would go berserk. Not so much with the yelling and other dramatic scenes you Gryffindors were so fond of," Blaise had grinned as he sipped a mouthful of firewhiskey from the bottle, "but with homework and such. Draco was the only one of us who had extra potions homework and sometimes lessons. He used to study for them like a lunatic."
Harry had seen Zabini look suddenly; impossibly sober before a haze took over his honeyed eyes as he shrugged.
"I remember one time in fifth-year, when Malfoy got Exceeded Expectations on some essay and your bushy-haired friend nailed it with an Outstanding, Snape didn't talk to him for two weeks and Draco was in a foul mood that only went away once he'd recovered that grade. They were both mental, I tell you..."
Harry didn't know how they had gotten onto that subject that night, but then their conversation had moved off onto another tangent and they never spoke of it again. Even now, Harry really didn't know why he even recalled that alcohol-induced conversation at all.
Ernest only left the quarters when they were about to put into port at the school. With a nod and a swift turn on his heels, the boy walked purposefully out, although not before expressing his controlled delight at having Harry Potter back and Severus Snape as his new professor.
Severus was unbelievably, although not visibly, relieved when Potter told him that he wouldn't have to make the trip to the castle with the students, but that they would be apparating to the front gates and then walking the rest of the way.
Like Hogwarts, Durmstrang didn't allow anyone except the Headmaster and impossibly powerful wizards and witches to apparate to or from the school, and even then said witch or wizard had to be allowed not only by the Headmaster but by the school itself. Taking into consideration that Durmstrang's walls were as picky and hard to please as their founders had been, the list was very small. Piotr had explained in his letter to Snape that the wards at Durmstrang were stronger and even more ruthless than people believed. The list of acceptable visitors who could apparate included: former students, parents or legal guardians of current students, or anyone accompanied by a current member of the school's staff. Once the school recognized him officially as a member of the faculty, Severus would be accepted by Durmstrang's wards. However, until that time he would clearly have to apparate with Potter, which called for skin-on-skin contact; a notion that irked him deeply.
Harry hid a grin when he realized that once again he had hold of Snape's hand, but this time he was indeed conscious of the contact, unlike that day at Diagon Alley. What really made him want to grin was the fact that Snape was fuming with indignation just as he had then and didn't wait much longer than necessary, after apparation, to jerk his hand violently from Harry's.
As the savior of the Wizarding World waved his hand to open the gates, he told the ex-Death Eater that the students would take at least half an hour to arrive, being led by prefects and the first-years being introduced to the school by one of the teachers.
Even in the cold and dim evening of that September first, Severus was aware of the wilderness and intimidating nature of school's grounds. The breeze was fierce and unyielding, piercing through the fabric of his thick coat, making it necessary for him to cast a warming charm. With a half moon high in the sky dimly lighting the way, Severus looked around himself as the other man led the way, noticing the silver reflection on several surfaces that he knew to be the four lakes that were part of Durmstrang's grounds.
The open space was breathtaking and surprisingly claustrophobic, thanks to the heaviness of the night and coldness of that area. After walking in blissful silence for over 20 minutes, which almost made him forget that there was anyone else with him, let alone that, that person was Harry Potter, Severus was able to see the lights and the gothic outline of Durmstrang's castle.
Unlike Hogwarts there were no towers, although in the total area covered, Durmstrang was the much larger school. The grounds were also more imposing and extensive, giving the students more space. According to history, the massive sprawl of the school had been absolutely necessary in order to house the massive battle of egos and wills inside its walls: a battle that had eventually culminated in the deaths of all four founders. Now the school continued to give its student body exactly that which had failed to save its founders their lives; space and privacy. The closer they got to the front hall, the wider and bigger it looked; reeking of pride, ambition, and ruthlessness, in a nutshell, everything that made a good Dark wizard or witch.
'Professor Snape...'
The pleasant tone was welcomed and, with a shake of his head, Severus finally realized he had been standing in that terrible weather, studying the architecture of the castle. He looked up to find ocean-blue eyes waiting patiently and respectfully for his onyx ones to focus so that they could get on with the formalities of his arrival. All the while Severus was unusually aware there was also another pair, eyes of a deep green, watching him unblinkingly and yet blankly. Frowning deeply, Severus finally crossed the threshold of the castle and was immediately engulfed by the warmth and protective wards that belonged to the school alone.
Harry watched as Piotr nodded and offered his hand to Snape, who accepted it without pause. The older man was now gazing intently at the walls, but the proffered hand of theHeadmaster brought him back from his musings. To Harry's surprise, the Potions Master readily accepted the offered hand, just as he had Ernest's weeks before.
'Mr. Antokolsky,' he said plainly as a form of greeting.
The younger man smiled in politely, gesturing his former professor inside the castle once his hand was released.
'I didn't believe Harry when he told me you'd come to work with us,' Piotr began, placing himself between both his professors, new and old, 'I thought that not even Harry would be able to convince you.'
Severus sneered, his eyes flitting over the walls instead of focusing on the young Headmaster. Piotr took that opportunity to briefly study the Potions Master. Snape hadn't changed much, he realized. In fact, he actually looked a tad younger, although still characteristically impatient and irritated.
'Ah, Piotr, I don't believe I had a thing to do with Professor Snape's decision to accept,' Potter's voice impudently supplied a reply that Severus clearly wasn't willing to give. 'Snape wanted to come and if that weren't the case, he wouldn't be here...regardless of what I had to say.'
Piotr had a hard time concealing his mirth at the sound of Harry's voice; he was using his "damage control" tone, the one his former schoolmate always used whenever he was trying to appease a particularly troublesome student or a certain vicious snake.
'You think I don't know that, Harry?' he chuckled kindly, smiling at Snape's annoyed and barely audible growl. 'I was only there one year, but that was more than enough time for me to learn that Severus Snape isn't a man who can be easily convinced of anything at all. Although, the contrary can't be said so surely.'
'It is an honor to have you here, Professor. An honor for both the school and for me.'
Now that the introductory pleasantries were complete, the ex-spy finally found that he had no choice but to speak to his former students. And even though all that could be heard was his disdainful drawl, Piotr was sure of its sincerity.
'Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Antokolsky.'
'Call me Piotr, Professor,' he replied instantly. 'It sounds wrong to have you call me that now, although you always have done. I guess that it just doesn't make much sense to do so now that we are colleagues.'
Completely focused again on the castle, Severus had enough tact to avoid a shrug as he followed the younger, former Slytherin through the school. The truth was that Antokolsky hadn't changed much. He still looked unusually tanned; his eyes were still breathtakingly kind and mischievous at the same time. In short, he was the same beautiful, tall, young man, althoughunquestionably older and wiser.
'As you wish, Piotr.' Severus supplied with an unbelievable hint of politeness.
Harry silently witnessed their interaction, unable to understand how they actually found it normal to act so completely detached from each other. Of course he wasn't waiting for Piotr to hug Snape, at least not if the Russian wanted to avoid a painful death, but he did expect a warmer reunion.
Suddenly, Harry became aware that they had stopped at the door to his own quarters and looked inquiringly at the Headmaster. Without any sort of explanation, the blue-eyed wizard nodded and the two men took their leave of Harry.
'Come Severus, I'll take you on a tour of the school.' He gestured that his former Head of House should follow him. 'The students must be on their way, but we will have enough time. Besides, there are things I am sure we must talk about far away from any Gryffindor-ish ears.'
Narrowing his eyes at being so summarily dismissed, not to mention being poked by a Slytherin, Harry couldn't help but cross his arms defiantly.
'Still the secretive Slytherin, huh, Headmaster?'
Severus saw the way Potter's eyes darkened; his face a forcefully controlled blank. It was the same expression he had seen whenever he successfully managed to seriously piss off the Golden Boy.
'Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin, Harry. Am I right, Professor?'
Harry felt his jaw tighten, but not because of Piotr's harmless jest. No, it was more about Snape's belittling once-over and the nasty curl of lips.
'Indeed,' Severus drawled in contempt and without another word or look, turned his back on the young man.
The only improvement on the scene would've been the pleasurable sounds of forcefully slamming doors, but all things considered, Snape felt he had indeed begun this new school year on the right foot.
Over thirty minutes later, Harry found that most of his irritation had ebbed away. He could once again be in the same room as Severus Snape and Piotr Antokolsky without feeling like he was 15 all over again. Apparently, he wasn't the only one whose humour had improved. The Potions Master was undoubtedly in a better mood or at least he didn't look as if he was about to murder anyone on sight.
Both men took their seats at the staff table, something that had always bothered Severus tremendously. He had never been fond of being watched and that was just how he felt whenever he sat in front of hundreds of students during meals. It was one of the reasons why he had always preferred to skip them and endure Poppy's endless lectures, regardless of how repetitive she could be. Now, as any new member of the school's staff, he was yet again forced to sit through a meal as any other new member of the school's staff. It displeased him immensely, but after the tour Piotr gave him, their talk, not to mention the sight of his office, lab, and classroom, he felt he could stand the whole ordeal without being exceptionally unpleasant.
As House tables were being filled, Severus watched as boys and girls walked the stone floor with either awe or unworried familiarity. Their numbers were far fewer than he had been expecting and he indicated as much to the Headmaster. As the students continued to file in, Antokolsky explained that Durmstrang had suffered difficult years after the Dark Lord's fall. If they had been among those who had been looked upon with wary suspicion before The Fall that was nothing to the looks and treatment they received afterward. Wary suspicion and distrust had made way for chaos. Instead of getting closer and unifying, the Wizarding World threatened to do exactly the opposite and crumble apart. It took many to put some sense back into those dunderheads' minds; Potter's obviously being the strongest and loudest voice, but other voices had sounded alongside Potter's. All that was left of the Order, as well as other sensible wizards and witches from every front had done their best to make the survivors understand the obvious: it wasn't labeling it so that made a spell dark or light, but the purpose for which the spell was used.
After Piotr was urgently called to his office - something about a third-year who had been caught casting a Jinx Hex on a couple of muggles at the London Docklands – Potter continued where the Headmaster had left off.
'With the end of the War,' he started, 'we all decided that any action that could spark division or renew old grudges should be banned, particularly in an academic environment. We wanted our children to become closer and be tolerant of one another, not create an environment that fed endless and stupid animosity.'
'So Durmstrang no longer follows the House System?' Severus asked, annoyed at the necessity of speaking to Potter again.
'Yes... and no,' Harry answered politely, once again ignoring the older man's thinly veiled hostility 'Students here are still sorted into houses, although our House System here and other schools have changed significantly in the past years. The Houses are now more symbolic than anything, a way of bringing together students with the same interests. But it is no longer used as a way to seclude them from each other.' The younger man gestured to the four rows of tables before them, which were arranged much in the same fashion as those in Hogwarts' Great Hall.
'We still have the four houses: Brontë, Cottus, Nárhvalr and, finally, the Campe.' Potter continued, 'As you know, each one could be looked on as the equivalent of Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively...well obviously, they only can, if you take into consideration a few of the peculiarities of Durmstrang's founders.'
'Each of Durmstrang's houses only accepts pureblood wizards with a predisposition for the Dark Arts or a dark family history.' Severus said accurately and received a nod.
'Any interaction between the houses was absolutely impossible for centuries,' Harry continued. 'Durmstrang's founders fought each other viciously over every facet of the school's administration. It wasn't so much a school administration as a bloody and, ultimately, deadly battleground, which none of the four survived. Their bitter rivalry was a point of pride with the school.'
'Fiat iu stita et piriat Mundus.'
Severus cited the school's motto as an after thought. He didn't see the way Potter suddenly looked at him before the younger man looked away with a slight frown.
'Exactly,' he replied simply, cleared his throat and then added, 'But now we're working to bring them together. Obviously, the competition is still strong but not taken to the same extremes and certainly not enough to permanently divide them. Piotr is very adamant about that. I didn't really understand the process at the beginning, but he clued me in to the plan.'
That piqued Snape's interest. 'Plan?' he asked blankly.
'Yes. We're working mostly with young men here,' Potter replied in a determined tone. 'Like other schools, explosive and morally ambiguous hormones tend to rule their behaviour. However, unlike other schools we've got to deal with the little matter of most of them being pureblood and the added effects that has on an already volatile situation. These boys, as well as the few girls, need attention and support and understanding, but mostly they must be unified. They are here because of their inheritance and, in being here, they are outcast. At the same time, they are just like any other boys and girls their age. They simply need a place to grow up in safety...emotionally, physically and magically.'
'To better monitor them,' Severus couldn't help but drawl snidely, intentionally latching on the worst meaning possible to Potter's words just to spite the Golden boy because something told the Potions Master that while this was a well-rehearsed speech, it was also undeniably honest. Still staring at the student body, flowing into the hall, he realized that Potter was indeed speaking the truth. Although, there were a few females numbered among the students, the greater proportion was of the male sex -- he'd estimate something close to ten to one.
Harry frowned, looking over at the older man for longer than his previous rushed, sideways glances. Unsurprisingly, he couldn't read anything on Snape's face. He didn't know if the man was seriously that sadistic or if he was just trying to piss him off by deliberately twisting his words. Knowing Snape, he figured it was both.
'No,' he said firmly, his green eyes intense, 'to better approach them, teach them...befriend them.'
In response to the strain that was clear in the younger wizard's tone, Severus threw him a challenging – and mocking – glare, crossing his arms over his chest in a pose that Potter knew very well.
Voice dripping with sarcasm, Severus asked, 'and is it working?'
Harry blinked once, then twice, his head tilted ever so lightly to the side as he held his former professor's gaze. However, his mind was very well blocked as had been his habit for many years. Hermione had told him once that he was just paranoid, that no one was likely to take a glimpse into his mind, but old well-learned lessons were not unlearned. The former Death Eater had shaped him to understand and embrace the need to preserve his mind from any intrusion. It was something he that he had done unconsciously ever since he actually mastered Occlulmency, and he doubted he'd ever leave his mind open again.
At least, not unconsciously so.
'It is progressing rather well,' was all he offered as answer, earning himself a mocking snort.
They stayed silent for awhile, neither one looking into the other's eyes nor initiating any action that would ignite a confrontation. Severus knew very well that the blasted boy was once again testing him, but he couldn't fathom why. Previously, Potter had seemed willing for him to get a glimpse of his feeble mind, but this time the Potions Master was sufficiently certain that the Boy-Who-Lived was trying to goad him. Despite the most serene expression Snape had ever seen on his face, Potter's green eyes had a veiled but discernible blazing quality. The dark man bluntly ignored the challenge, raising his eyebrow and curling his lips.
'Are you a Head of House?'
Harry was momentarily disconcerted with the sudden change of topic; the question held a lot of derogatory amusement, but still served to successfully dissipate the sudden tension. He inwardly cursed himself for yet again letting Snape affect him in ways that he had promised himself he wouldn't. 'Grow the bloody hell up', Potter, he ordered himself.
'No.' he again cleared his throat quietly and forced himself to soften the intensity of his gaze. 'I wanted them all to know that they can come to me, regardless of what house they're in.'
'I thought you said that the old grudges were being expunged,' Snape countered annoyingly.
His tone only earned Snape one of Harry's kind and mirthful smiles, the ones that he was sure his former teacher had come to loathe
'We've got a long way 'til we've expunged them all,' Harry stated mildly. 'As it is, I am glad that they are more or less peacefully coexisting.'
It was all Severus could do not to roll his eyes, instead moving his attention back to the hellions who were getting louder by the second. Several groups had already formed all over the hall; all of them talking conspiratorially and sending meaningful and malicious glances to the others tables and students.
'In comparison with them cursing and hexing each other at the corridors?'
Potter chuckled, pleasantly grinning as he caught a glimpse of some of his most difficult students, most of them staring and gossiping among themselves. The new presence at the staff table was almost certainly their main topic of conversation.
'Obviously,' he said, grinning at a particular pair who had made his life very difficult during their first and second years at the school, and who were currently sporting such wide smirks that their canines were showing.
As the two professors fell silent again, Piotr returned with a fierce frown wrinkling his brow that only disappeared when Madam Inas leaned over to speak to him. Harry scanned the room, trying to figure out who was actually missing in an attempt to pinpoint the mastermind behind the incident at the docks. But before he could begin his search effectively, Snape's voice brought him back to the present.
'Mr. Hamilton'
He frowned lightly, trying to read the toneless inflection of the ex-Death Eater's voice while furiously trying to understand what he meant by it.
'Yes?' Potter asked, distractedly and slightly out of sorts, 'What about Ernest?'
Severus groaned his impatience, waiting for the incompetent ninny to finally see the dark blonde curls of Mr. Hamilton, now that he had finally arrived in the hall. The boy had stood at the doors for a while, narrowing his eyes as they ran over the Houses' tables and the staff table. When Ernest found Potter he smiled lightly, but didn't march to his bench until his eyes had locked with bottomless black ones. The adolescent nodded his acknowledgement and only broke the eye contact when Severus did the same.
'In which House is he?' he barked, clearly irritated.
Harry was so caught off-guard that he didn't even answer the question right away, nor did the tone Snape used get to him.
Much.
The older man groaned under his breath, seeming to interpret Harry's silence as hesitance, for which Harry was decidedly grateful. Better the Potions Master think he was deliberately stalling, rather than figuring out that he had stumped Harry silent.
Again.
'Don't tell me he's a Cottus,' Severus warned, a slight growl creeping into his voice.
Finally, it dawned on Harry what the other really wanted to know. He shook his head at the irony of it all. Even here at Durmstrang, the once Slytherin Head of House couldn't ignore the eternal rivalry with the Gryffindors. As he had previously said, the Brontë House was the equivalent of the green-and-silver house at Hogwarts, while the Cottus were considered an echo of his own old red-and-gold house. It was worth nothing that Brontë had been the most ruthless and dark of all Durmstrang's founders, while Cottus was said to have been the most reckless and daring, and, not surprisingly the most loyal, of the four.
'No, he's actually a Brontë.'
Severus nodded thoughtfully and leaned back in his seat, his chin rising almost imperceptibly for a split second in the only gesture he would allow himself to outwardly show his approbation. In his childish musings, he had always thought he'd be a Brontë himself.
'Acceptable and fitting.'
Harry barely contained his amusement at Snape's comment, yet couldn't help chuckling as he again caught a glimpse of Ernest and winked at the boy.
'I don't find it hard to believe that you'd think so,' was all he dared to say, without having to fear for his physical health.
Before the older man could respond to his subtle jest, as Harry was very sure he intended, he was saved by the bell. Said bell was the bald, easygoing and suspiciously nice figure of another member of the staff.
'Professor Snape?'
'Yes?'
'I'm Dimitri Boyd, the Arithmancy teacher and Nárhvalr's Head of House. It is a pleasure to have you joining us this year.'
Knowing that both Antokolsky and Potter were watching him openly for his reaction to the pleasantness in the hoarse voice and light brown eyes of the oldest member of the school's staff, the ex-spy took his time, looking down at the small man.
To Piotr and Harry's shock, Severus Snape didn't completely ignore the man.
Predictably, Snape wasn't able to put up with Professor Boyd's unnatural good nature for long. He could take pleasantries, at least for a while, but he certainly couldn't force himself to endure the torture of a 30-minute conversation over the intrinsic similarities between brewing a potion and what he liked to call a "mindless counting of numbers". At least, he didn't have to suffer through Potter's babbling anymore, that unpleasantness currently falling to a green-haired witch on his right, said to be the Transfiguration professor and a metamorphmagus. He made a mental note to ask Piotr to change the seating arrangements at the main table, preferably with the Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort at one end and he at the other. Snape couldn't even imagine what carnage could ensue from the two of them forced into a thrice-daily encounter. The very idea almost made him shudder. Thankfully, he was brought out of his morbid musings when the Headmaster stood up.
Apparently, another difference between the rituals at Durmstrang and Hogwarts was the fact that the beginning of year speech was given after the feast and not before.
It made sense. It was better to feed the beasts and get them into a gluttony-induced haze before boring them out of their bodies.
Piotr was still wearing his dark blue robe, a stark contrast to his crystal blue eyes. Severus had managed to change just before coming to dinner and was wearing the black robes he had used as a second skin for most his life. He once again felt comfortable, more so than he had in years. He wasn't the only one who had found time to change for dinner. Thankfully, Potter had had the decency to take off the hideous sweater he had been wearing and change into a black robe, one that wasn't nearly austere as his own, but still black and slightly imposing.
Unbeknownst to Snape, Harry was sure he'd never truly manage to make it billow.
Not that he had ever tried.
'Welcome,' Antokolsky began firmly, his voice warm with welcome, 'I see the dissidents are growing thinner each year.' He narrowed his eyes mischievously, scanning the hall for all the students who had dropped out of the school for one reason or another 'Dare I wish that this trend will continue in the coming years? That more of you will choose to stay with us until your schooling is complete? As it is, I am glad to see all the familiar faces...'
Two boys, who couldn't have been older than 16, began to whistle and clap, getting the attention of most of the other students, who either shook their heads at them or laughed appreciatively at their antics. They were both tall, impressively pale and, Severus was disconcerted to realize, had light, greenish-honeyed eyes. Their hair seemed to have the same buzz cut, but while the colour of one's was a bluish raven, the other's was light blonde. They reminded him inexorably of two of his own former students, who had made the prospect of life in the bowels of hell preferable to the reality of teaching them. The horrid, sinking feeling was intensified upon hearing the chuckle coming from his right, a teaching nightmare in his own right.
'You're looking at Johansson and Guberman,' Potter's insufferable voice softly supplied unasked. 'They're like an unrelated version of Fred and George Weasley'
Snape couldn't understand why the Golden Boy found that statement so bloody amusing. The prospect of teaching those two was abominable to say the very least.
'...and our young reinforcements,' Piotr continued. 'Before I allow you to go to your beds, I have a very important announcement to make. This year we will not enjoy the brilliant and supportive presence of our Dark Arts professor of four years and Brontë's Head of House, Blaise Zabini.'
Severus noted that many faces were scowling at these words, while others just stared at the Headmaster, stumped, before most of the student body began to talk amongst themselves. It would seem that Zabini's retreat wasn't expected.
'Because of this, following Professor Zabini's recommendation, Professor Ivanov will be Brontë new Head of House.'
Half of the aforementioned house's table seemed to dislike the news. Severus raised an inquiring eyebrow, but he didn't have a chance to say a thing before Potter was answering his silent question.
'Ivanov has wanted the position since he got here.' There was a hint of impatience in the green-eyed man's voice as he looked over to the only professor, appearing unperturbed by the student's clear rebellion against the decision. 'He's the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Some of Blaise's students, especially the older ones, don't like him in the least -- more out of loyalty to Blaise than anything else -- but Ivanov is the best choice. He might not have 100 percent acceptance, but then again, I never knew how Zabini managed that feat,' Harry grinned, returning his attention to his old friend's welcome speech.
'There are other changes to teaching assignments that Professor Zabini's departure has made necessary,' the Headmaster's voice rose above the complaints over the Head of House appointment, effectively silencing the adolescents. 'First, Professor Potter will no longer be your Potions Professor.'
The renewed sounds of disappointment and displeasure rose in unison. Snape arched an eyebrow at Potter, who refused to look directly at him as he flushed slightly.
'Wait, please. I am not finished,' Piotr said calmly, obviously enjoying his professor's bashfulness. 'Professor Potter will no longer teach you Potions, but he will officially embrace the Dark Arts lessons.'
The response was instantaneous and extremely voluble. Severus noticed that the two students Potter had identified as Johansson and Guberman were clapping and roaring their approval. Nor did he miss the irony in Antokolsky's phrasing. The young Mr. Hamilton was the only one who remained impassive, as he talked to one of his housemates.
'I am very pleased to see that you accept these changes with enthusiasm,' Piotr said in clear amusement, ignoring Potter's soft but audible groan. 'Finally, I would like to introduce you all your new Potions Professor, the highly-qualified Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape.'
As one, all of those juvenile faces turned towards him. The response wasn't as noisy or enthusiastic as it had been for Antokolsky's other news, but he didn't really expect anything else. Suddenly, the sound of clapping started to fill the Hall. It had, it would seem, started at the end of the Brontë's table, from somewhere close to a certain dark blonde youth.
'Very well,' the Headmaster grinned again. 'You may go now. Good night and good year!'
Author's Note:
Clearly I made up Durmstrang's motto. "Fiat iu stita et piriat Mundus" (Let justice be done though the world's destroyed) was borrowed from the comic and movie character John Constantine, who has that very phrase carved on his lighter in the film. Taking in consideration Constantine's self-destructive personality, and my own ideas on Durmstrang's founders – and therefore the school's – history, that was the best dubious motto I found for an institution that is admittedly dark and immersed in the Dark Art.
As for Durmstrang's Houses name choice:
Campe ("crooked") was a female monster in Greek mythology, and a she-dragon with a woman's head and a scorpion-like tail.
Brontë is an altered version of Brontes ("thunderer"), the name of a Clycoples in the Theogony.
Nárvhalr ("corpse whale") is the Old Norse word from wich the name "Narwhal" was derived, commonly known as the moon whale.
Cottus (The Striker or the Furious) was one of the Hecatonchires, three gargantuan figures of archaic Greek mythology.
Also the name of Madam Inas' name is Arabic and means "making someone comfortable".