The Serpent of Durmstrang

A/N: This is a rewrite of the Dragon of Durmstrang, where mistakes were made and are going to be corrected, while the story and writing will be improved. This is also my NaNoWriMo prep story, so all reviews are appreciated.

A/N #2: I am looking for a cover art for this specific story, so if any readers are artists or have any image they would like me to use, just send me a message and we can talk about it! It will also be used for the Wattpad version!

Edit: I am currently using the cover I have on Wattpad! Don't hesitate to check it out on that site as well! My other stories have been taken down, and will be rewritten one after another when I finish this one! Do not fret! It has come to my attention that my writing was absolutely horrendous before, and to make it up to my readers, I would like to rewrite my whole collection and improve them one after another. So stay tuned!

Chapter Six

"Bertha Jorkins….a long serpent slithering alongside an armchair...a very decrepit house…"

Harry sat up quickly, his eyes wide, scar burning, and cold sweat drenching his sheets. The dreams, nightmares, were becoming worse and worse. It had started just after summer had began, and it periodically plagued him. Occlumency did nothing, and Harry was getting tired of it.

Stretching out his back, he groaned. He had wanted to get a few hours of sleep before he met up with Professor Gregorovitch the next morning. Grabbing his wand, he cast Tempus, which told him he had exactly two more hours before sunrise. Knowing from past experience that he won't be able to go back to sleep, he slowly got up and stretched his whole body.

The room he was in was his own, and resembled every other student's room from first to seventh year. The boys and girls had different corridors within their respective year wing, but did share a common study area. Looking around, he could see the house elves had tidied up the place sometime during the night, since the books that had laid open and sprawled on his moderately sized desk were now piled up neatly. The room was spartan in nature, and the only thing that Harry kept personalized was a picture of his mum and dad on his night stand.

Harry sighed as he finally took a few steps towards his desk. Taking a seat, he flicked his wand at the lap just to his right, which immediately illuminated the dark room. Harry could see some of the parchments were still sprawled around the desk, which he quickly stacked into a neat piled up top of his books.

Riffling through them, he found a blank one and decided it might be the perfect time to pen a reply to Fleur. She most likely would receive the letter a little bit later than the usual delivery time, if Harry was correct about the distance between each Magical school in Europe. Dabbing his quill onto an ink jar, he wrote,

Dear Fleur,

I'm happy to hear that you'll also be trying to pursue an apprenticeship! It's definitely not easy, and from all of the readings I have finally finished last night, I can safely conclude that the next few years of my apprenticeship won't be a walk in the park. I suppose I got lucky that Professor Gregorovitch has been my Transfiguration professor for quite sometime, and it seems that I have a high affinity in the subject, which was enough to convince him. I do hope that you'll get your spot soon! If you need any help, please don't hesitate to ask!

I will most definitely miss Durmstrang. What's not to miss? The severely cold weather, the unheated showers, and most importantly the gothic castle? What's not to miss! But in all seriousness, I did spend the last six years here, and while it's not the most hospitable place, it was my home away from home, as I would assume Beauxbatons is for you.

I'm looking forward to seeing you again as well! We'll be arriving at Hogwarts at October 30th, and I would think that the school delegations will be arriving at the same time, so we'll see each other again in about two months time.

I think I can handle your friends, I suppose I just need to transfigure some stuff toys for them. It seems to have worked with Gabrielle, so it just might work with them as well! You should be more worried my friends, they're going to be 'overprotective', but they're all just teddy bears on the inside!

I'll most likely put my name in for the tournament, though I'm not sure if I'll be chosen. The Highmaster insisted on bringing the whole seventh year as the delegation, which means I do have a lot of competition for getting chosen, my friends for starters. From what I've heard, it's not going to be easy, but I do like a challenge!

I hope you had a safe journey to Beauxbatons! Ours was unimpeded, so we're all here safe and sound!

Always,

Harry Potter

Satisfied with the letter, Harry folded it evenly before slipping it into a spare envelope he had lying around his desk. Addressing it to Fleur, Harry placed the letter on top of the book stack, before shuffling to put on his school robes.

Checking the time with a Tempus spell, he surmised that he had a little over an hour before dawn, and before breakfast is served. That gave him more than enough time to send his owl, as well as take a quick stroll around the castle. Early morning strolls gave him a much more intimate experience with Durmstrang castle, and as a seventh year, he was not bound by any rules in terms of curfew, which suited Harry's habit quite well.

Grabbing his maroon overcoat, fur-lined, and adorned with the Durmstrang crest on the right breast, he wrapped it around himself, before setting out. Making sure the letter was safely tucked into his pocket, he quickly made his way through the corridor which led towards the common area for seventh years. The room was circular, and across from the boy's corridor was the girl's wing. It was warded, of course, and any male trying to get access would be severely cursed, as tested and proven by a third-year Cadmus Carrow. Soft leather couches and tables with chairs were scattered across the room, while fireplace was kept crackling throughout the year.

Harry headed towards the exit, and pried open the door to reveal a very dark hallway lighted by the sporadic torches scattered at each corridor. The castle was the epitome of gloom, but it's lack of grandeur made sure that students focused mostly on their studies, nothing more.

Making slow stride, Harry made his way onto the first staircase, and quickly ascended through the floors. The seventh year dorms were located on the third floor, and while the castle itself only had four floors, the owlery was located in the unofficial fifth floor, a lonely tower constantly littered with owl droppings. It seems as though the house elves rarely cleaned the place, which if rumour was to be believed, was due to the fact that the owls attacked any house elves that dared enter their landing.

Reaching the top-most landing of the spiral staircase, Harry slowly opened the door as to not disturbed the sleeping owls. While owls were nocturnal creatures, the mailing owls usually slept at different intervals, especially if they have had to deliver international posts.

"Hedwig," Harry softly whispered, which prompted a snowy-white owl to descend from the rafters, and landing onto the brick counters lining the circular wall. Harry smiled at his owl, and began petting her, much to the owl's satisfaction.

"How is your first night back, girl?" Harry smiled, taking out a small piece of owl treats from his robe pockets, and handing it to his owl. Hedwig slowly hopped closer, and started pecking lightly at the snack.

As Hedwig finally finished the last of her treats, Harry pulled out the letter that was tucked neatly into his pocket, and began trying it onto Hedwig's legs. The owl hooted, almost as if in protest of having to deliver a letter so early in the morning. Harry gave the owl's head a slight ruffle, smiling lightly in the process, "Come on, girl. It's for Fleur. You like delivering to her, don't you?"

Hedwig nodded, making Harry smile even wider. Helios, Fleur's eagle owl, had been quite the romantic when he had first met Hedwig. The two had hit it off, and from Fleur's letters, he could guess that whenever Hedwig sends the letters, she always made sure to spend quality time with Helios before she carries any replies back. Harry had to admit that it was very cute.

"Off you go then! I'll get you bacon when you return, promise!"

With a hoot, Hedwig left the tower through one of the openings near ceiling. Harry watched her pierce through the morning sky, and smiled to himself. He was going to see Fleur again soon, and he was very excited. They had bonded rather well with just exchanging letters, and from what he had gathered, she was a very talented witch. Her expertise was with charms, something that Harry was only mediocre at. While Harry was probably one of the best students in transfiguration, and was able to perform spells ahead of his class, he had to push himself harder in his other classes. Charms was one of those, as well as potions. He loved both subjects, but his natural talent for transfiguration did not roll over into other magical disciplines.

Just as he was about to leave the owlery, he heard two men conversing, which seemed to be heading his way. He quickly opened the door, recognizing the voices, and bowed at the two startled men, "Highmaster, professor, good morning."

Highmaster Igor Karkaroff was a very sleezy fellow, his twisted goatee, and his gaunt features made him somewhat intimidating, especially to the unlucky first year who might run into him along the school halls. He sported a much more lavish Durmstrang uniform, lined with fur, and inlaid with silk.

Professor Petyr Gregorovitch was a different matter. While his face was sharp, the professor's eyes was filled with warmth, and at the same time felt very welcoming. Contrary to the Highmaster's lavish taste, Professor Gregorovitch tended to wear regular sets of robes, not adhering to the Durmstrang standard uniform. With such a premier professor teaching, it was no wonder that the school board did not say anything about Professor Gregorovitch's style of clothing.

"Mister Potter," Highmaster Karkaroff drawled, eyeing Harry with slight distaste, "how fortuitous. Professor Gregorovitch and I were just discussing about your behaviour in the train yesterday."

Harry glanced at his professor, whom he could see had shook his head slightly. It seems Cadmus had ran to the Highmaster as soon as they had arrived in Durmstrang. If there was anything good that can be said about the Carrow boy, it was that he knew where to turn to for help, when push comes to shove.

The long pause was enough to tell Harry that he was expected to defend himself, which he made sure to be as careful as possible, "Mister Carrow and I had a disagreement. Some heated words were said in his part, and tempers were high."

The Highmaster nodded, "Indeed," turning to Petyr, he continued, "as Mister Potter had said, words were exchanged, and tempers were high, and I'm sure it was on both sides. I don't think any punishment is in order," he then peered at Harry, "for any side."

Harry got the message. Cadmus was not going to be punished, and if Harry and his friends were to push for it, they themselves were incriminated for their part in the debacle.

Before Harry could reply, however, Professor Gregorovitch quickly placed a hand over Harry's shoulder, and nodded at the Highmaster, "Igor, I trust you can send the list of our delegation to the British Ministry? I'll need to borrow Mister Potter to discuss his apprenticeship with me."

Igor Karkaroff sneered at them both, but held his tongue. While he was Highmaster of Durmstrang, Petyr Gregorovitch wielded the respect and adoration of the school board, which made it harder for Igor to throw his weight around the school. Petyr had always stopped any such nonsense, and have been quite vocal at Igor's lack of credentials as Highmaster. But money made the world go round, and Igor had plenty to line the pockets of his supporters within the school board, even with Petyr's complaints.

Waving at goodbye, Harry was steered away back into the spiral staircase. Harry himself gave a small bow as they were another word, they marched off towards the second floor, which was where the offices of each professor was located. Dawn had arrived, and the halls were much brighter, giving the castle a new life, and lessened the gloom. The castle itself was still mostly asleep, with the exception of some professors who Harry could see were already working within their respective office.

Stopping at the last door of the hallway, Professor Gregorovitch motioned Harry to go in, before following and closing the door with a soft click.

"Sit, Mister Potter," the professor commanded, as he pointed towards the pair of wooden high-backed chairs in front of his desk. Harry obliged, and made himself comfortable. Gregorovitch made his way onto his own seat, and placed his hand onto his table immaculately. He stared at Harry for a few moments, before breaking the silence, "Have you read the books I gave you?"

Harry nodded eagerly, "I have! They were quite interesting, especially since they all highlighted the strengths and weaknesses of transfiguration used in battle. However, I seem to have noticed that the books never mentioned battle transfiguration. Was it-"

Petyr chuckled, as he held his hand up to stop Harry's continuous word spill.

"I'm sorry, professor," Harry apologized, blushing slightly, "the books were really fascinating, and an eye-opener."

"It's alright, Harry. I remember myself in your shoes. And just between you and me, Albus was none to happy with my yapping."

"You apprenticed with Albus Dumbledore?" Harry stared at the man in shock. While he knew that only Albus Dumbledore, besides his professor, were known to be practitioners of battle transfiguration, he had never really connected the dots himself. It was stupid of him not to make the connection"s, but he had never heard of Dumbledore ever taking on an apprentice.

"But, sir," Harry inquired, now scratching his messy hair in confusion, "I've never heard of Dumbledore having any kind of apprentices."

"True, but I apprenticed under Albus before his grand duel and defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Before that, Albus was not as famous, and therefore my apprenticeship was not a public interest."

Harry nodded. He knew that Albus Dumbledore had been past sixty years old when he had finally confronted and defeated Gellert Grindelwald. And while Dumbledore had been already a well-known personality within the Wizarding community, an apprenticeship was not something the general public would get excited for, especially since the World War proved to be a greater distraction.

Professor Gregorovitch smirked at Harry, "You know, I can clearly remember telling you that my master was Albus Dumbledore when we had met during the summer."

Harry had to think back, and realized that the professor was right, and blushed crimson, "Sorry, it seems the news of becoming your apprentice made me blur some parts of the conversation we had."

"Not to worry," Petyr off-handedly replied, before replacing his smile with a serious expression, "Since you have read through the books, what can you say about battle transfiguration, then?"

Harry stared hard at the desk, not wanting to say what he was going to say, yet he had to be honest, "Battle transfiguration, at least according to the books, is impossible. Transfiguration, in the heat of battle, is slow, and merely acts as distractions."

Petyr stared at his apprentice, who stared back with uncertainty. It seems Harry was a little shy about contradicting his own chosen discipline, which Petyr could understand. He had gone through the same thing after all, and everything that books about transfiguration will tell the reader about the limits of the said discipline. Transfiguration required discipline, and should b approach scientifically to be able to produce results. There was no time for creativity, because precision was key to a successful transfiguration spell.

"I'm going to tell you, despite what you think I will say, that everything said in those books are true."

"What!" Harry exclaimed, "then-"

"I'm not done yet," Petyr admonished his apprentice, "As I was saying, everything in those books are true. However, they do not apply to those who are naturally gifted in the art. For example, inanimate to animate transfiguration should be the hardest task a regular student at Durmstrang will encounter, yet from all the classwork we have done, you can do it with ease."

Harry nodded, recovering from his master's chastise, "With inanimate to animate, we're essentially creating life, a temporary life, but life nonetheless. When I do them, I usually envision, and put the necessary power I feel it needs to fuel the spell, before casting."

"Not everyone can do that, Harry. Transfiguration seems very simple when you explain it that way, but unlike charms, our spells are not fueled by emotions or intent. Transfiguration has always been systematic, and requires the caster to be meticulous. It's the reason why most students take days to master one transfiguration spell, because they are in a sense constructing the intended result systematically within their thoughts with each failed attempt."

Harry could only nod dumbly. He had never thought of transfiguration in that sense, and had scoffed his friends when they praised him for his work. He knew he was quite talented in the subject, but he didn't realize just how different he was compared to the other students and his own friends. Harry had never had to think too much, and just had to visualize what he wanted, and with a spell, results into what he wanted, perfectly.

Petyr smiled at his apprentice, and got up, "What you have, Harry, is a talent. A talent you share with myself, and the oh-so-famous Albus Dumbledore," at that he laughed, "now, best head to breakfast. I'm sure your friends are waiting for you."

Harry nodded, before taking his leave, thoughts about transfiguration boggling his mind.

After Harry had closed the door gently, Petyr slowly made his way to the fireplace across from his office. Grabbing floo powder, he threw a pinch into the fire and said, "Hogwarts Headmaster's Office."

It took less than a second before the face of Albus Dumbledore appeared, old, tired, but jovially smiling at Petyr.

"Petyr, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Petyr Gregorovitch smiled at the man, his own face already aging past his prime, "I just spoke with young Mister Potter, and he will be ready to take on this challenge."

Albus nodded, "It seems you found yourself someone to carry our legacy, Petyr. Is the boy really as talented as his godfather tells me?"

"He is more talented than you might think," Petyr acknowledged with a small smile, "I remember James well, Albus, and I can definitely say that with Lily's penchant for learning, coupled with James' natural talent for transfiguration, this young man might just eclipse us both."

Albus Dumbledore had to smile widely at that. He had been quite adamant about Harry spending his youth with his maternal relatives, the Dursleys, simply because of the protection he could erect around the house. But his inability to enact this plan seemed to have turned out for the better. He had already apologized to both Sirius and Remus for his lapse in judgement, especially when he had fought for custody in the Wizengamot. Truthfully, he had the boy's interest at heart, and he was glad that his plan never came to fruition.

"Once at Hogwarts, will you help me supervise his training, old friend? I am worried that he may be quite the handful once he gets a good grasp of the theories behind our art."

"I would be honoured, Petyr," Albus replied with great anticipation. He might not have been there for Harry growing up, but Albus will make sure that Harry is trained to the best of his abilities, he owed it to the child, after all.

Albus Dumbledore, while still wielding great respect amongst his colleagues and the Wizarding World at large, was getting old. His body could feel the pressures of age slowly creeping upon him, and death was surely not far behind. While he had imparted most of his knowledge unto his apprentice, he knew that Harry Potter could only reach his full potential with both of their tutelage. It was unheard of having two masters for a single apprentice, but Albus Dumbledore never did anything within the norm.

"How's Igor doing? Has he confided in you about his mark?"

Petyr grimaced. Igor Karkaroff, a failed Death Eater turned turncloak, was making strides in degrading the educational system at Durmstrang. He was a gnat, an insect that was hard to get rid of.

"He doesn't confide much in me, and rightly distrusts me," Petyr started, "but I have seen his mark, Albus. It's getting darker every year."

Albus sighed, and started stroking his beard. His conversations with Severus had been the same, and the Dark Mark is indeed becoming more and more prominent with each passing year. And with the incident at the World Cup, the Dark Mark has been as pronounced as the days before Lord Voldemort's downfall.

"Dark days are ahead, Petyr."

"I know, Albus. I know."