Harry Potter and The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 4

Durmstrang Spring Part 1

A Cold Welcoming

Location Unknown, (Jan. 11th)...

Harry had used Portkeys before, so he thought he knew what to expect. While there was the typical jerk behind the naval as soon as the Portkey activated, he was not instantly deposited at his location like most of the Portkeys Professor Dumbledore had made for his family over the years. Instead, Harry was spun around in a swirling vortex for what seemed like several minutes. Harry was just starting to get dizzy from spinning around in circles when he felt his feet abruptly smash into the earth.

Harry hadn't fallen from a Portkey in years, and his experience with how to properly land was the only thing that saved him from collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Two things immediately assaulted Harry's senses the moment he landed. The first was that it was dark. If Durmstrang wasn't known to be somewhere in Europe, Harry would have sworn that he had traveled to the complete other side of the globe. He had left his home at ten in the morning, and it looked like the middle of the night where he had arrived. Looking up at the stars, Harry could perfectly see several constellations, and the only hint of light came from a faint reddish glow in the distance.

Knowing that he must be very far up north, Harry's senses quickly alerted him to something else. It was very cold. A sudden gust of wind kicked up, and Harry nearly screamed at the bone chilling rush of cold air. Cursing himself for not putting on the heavy furs he had been instructed to buy at Madam Malkins, Harry cast a warming charm, however, not even that was enough to completely keep out the cold. Desperately, Harry looked around for the Professor that was supposed to be meeting him.

"Impressive," commented a man with a Slavic accent, "I had thought you vould fall like the rest of your countrymen. You haff much practice with Portkey travel, Potter?"

Harry turned in the direction of the voice, but he could only make out the slightest hint of a person standing in the darkness. Slowly, Harry's eyes began to adjust, and the speaker came into view. It was a fairly tall, yet thin, man dressed in very thick red robes. He had long dark hair that reached down from beyond a heavy fur hat, and a pair of cold dark eyes that didn't look like they belonged to anyone who ever smiled.

"A little, sir," Harry replied in German.

"Ah, you haff come prepared," the man replied, flawlessly switching to German. "That is good. I am Dominque Grausam, your instructor for the Dark Arts. Now, you follow me."

Harry nodded and began to follow his Professor down an icy path that seemed to wind through the snow around them. As they walked, Harry did his best to ignore the temperature by surveying the landscape around him. The dim light made it difficult to see very far, but Harry was fairly certain that he could make out mountains in the distance.

"Sir," Harry said, testing out his German. "It cold much here. No?"

Professor Grausam glared at Harry before saying, "You need more time vith the language charm, Potter. That vos some of the most disgusting German I haff ever heard. Say in English if you are not able to speak decent German. At least then I do not feel the desire to hit you vhen you speak."

Harry couldn't stop his face from flushing in embarrassment. "It's a lot colder than I expected, sir."

"You are stupid, Potter," Grausem said mockingly, "Do you think ve tell you to buy heavy coat for fun?"

"Where are we, sir?" Harry tried to keep his voice respectful, but between the cold and his professors attitude, he was growing very impatient.

"Ve are in the Kautokeino province."

Harry stopped walking and looked at his professor in complete confusion. "Where?"

"Norway you stupid boy. Ve are in Northern Norway."

Surprised, Harry asked, "Sir, if we are in Norway, why did I need to learn German?"

Grausam sneered. "If everyone thinks that Durmstrang is somevhere traditionally German speaking, they don't look for school here."

Harry slowly thought out that logic. It actually made a lot of sense if you were seriously that paranoid.

"You vill get your first look at the castle soon,.

Reaching the top of a large hill, Harry's mouth dropped open at the view. The reason for the reddish glow he had noticed earlier became all too apparent when he saw a massive row of torches that illuminated the road ahead. The path stretched for about a half a mile until it dead-ended into an intimidating four-story castle that stood out amongst the barren, snow-filled, terrain. In fact, with the exception of a nearby Quidditch stadium, Durmstrang was the only landmark that Harry could see anywhere.

"Umm...wow." Harry tried to hide his disgust at the uninspired looking fortress in the distance. While Hogwarts had a welcoming and majestic appearance, Durmstrang looked like it was built to withstand a siege. Large outer-walls defended the building and the interior structure had no impressive towers or monuments. Since it was smaller than Hogwarts, Durmstrang covered a much larger portion of ground and seemed to stretch for some distance. However, nowhere was Harry able to see any discernible change in architecture or design. In fact, Durmstrang appeared almost block like. Trying to think of something to say, Harry simply muttered, "Ugh, are there wards?"

"Ja." Grausam sent a look of disgust at Harry for his unenthusiastic response at first seeing the school. "Ve are unplottable, and the Muggles think that this area is uninhabitable."

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop from telling his new professor that the Muggles had it right, and that this area should be uninhabitable. The remaining walk to the school was done in silence, and Harry got the impression that Grausam really did not like him. Wisely, Harry kept his thoughts to himself. It wouldn't do to antagonize a Professor on his first day at a new school.

As they entered the school, Grausam led Harry through a series of dark corridors. Unlike Hogwarts, Durmstrang did not have magical portraits hanging from its walls, nor did Durmstrang have the inviting feeling Harry had felt when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Durmstrang's corridors were lined with very formidable looking suits of armor, all of which were clutching some sort of dangerous looking weapons, and stone depictions of various magical creatures. The only lighting seemed to come from a series of torches on the walls, and these torches did nothing to provide any heat to the drafty corridors.

"That is the main hall," Grausam said gesturing to a pair of large, gold, double-doors to the right of them. "Velcoming feast is in an hour. You must be in attendance."

"Yes, sir."

"Make sure you cast language charm on yourself." Grausam instructed as Harry followed the man up an impressive central staircase."German vill be used at all times, no exceptions. Using other language is punished by vhipping." Harry swallowed nervously, but Grausam seemed to ignore him as he continued talking. "Classes are on the first, second, and third floors. Student quarters are on the fourth. I take you to your room now."

"I get my own room?" Harry asked excitedly.

Grausam simply sneered in response to the question, and Harry had to struggle to keep up with the man's purposefully long steps. As they reached the fourth floor, Harry saw several older students speaking in rapid German with one another at the top of the staircase.

"You are blocking the stairs," Grausam snapped in German, causing the group of older students to quickly disperse. "Potter, girls' rooms are to the right of staircase, boys' rooms on the left. Rooms are alphabetical, password for your room is transfer, be in the Main Hall in one hour for velcome feast." The Dark Arts Professor gave Harry a final look of disgust before turning on his heel and going back down the stairs, leaving Harry to find his room.

With a sigh, Harry took a left and began walking down the long corridor. As he walked, he briefly glanced at some of the names on the doors, which were written in fire on top of each doorway. Most of the names seemed to hint at a Slavic and Germanic ancestry, and Harry was actually pleased that he didn't recognize any of them. If there weren't a lot of English students, maybe he wouldn't have to put up with a lot of questions about his brother.

After a few minutes of walking down the corridor, Harry had come to the conclusion that alphabetizing rooms by last name was great if your last name started with A, B, or C, but for everyone else it was a pain in the ass. At least the person who thought of alphabetizing the rooms was a smart enough to periodically put bathrooms in the long corridor. Harry couldn't imagine the pain it would be to walk down the massive hallway every time he needed to use the loo or shower. Eventually, Harry reached a door that had the word "Potter" above it.

"Transfer," he mumbled. The lock clicked and Harry pushed the door opened. Any joy that Harry had at having his own room disappeared instantly. This wasn't a room; it was a prison cell! The room consisted of a single cot pressed up against the right wall, a desk against the left wall, and a wardrobe against the back wall. There was a small window that looked only just big enough for an owl to squeeze through next to the wardrobe. The room couldn't have been twelve feet deep and ten feet across, and it was freezing cold. With a groan of frustration, Harry levitated his trunk to the ground and busily began unpacking his things.

Far sooner than Harry expected, it was time for him to begin making his way down to the Main Hall for the welcoming feast. Casting the language charm that Professor Dumbledore had taught him, Harry departed his room and joined the mass of students who were making their way down the stairs, presumably heading to the Main Hall.

Harry tried to listen in on some conversations as he followed the crowd of students into the Main Hall, but found that his German was still not all that great. While he recognized several words, the speed the language was being spoken at was still too much for him.

Entering the Main Hall, Harry's first impression was to roll his eyes. Several long tables lined the hall, much like Hogwarts; however, the staff table at the front of the hall was elevated slightly, demonstrating a symbolic message that the staff was superior to the students and would look down upon them. In the center of the staff table, sitting in a large, almost throne-like, chair was the Highmaster. Karkaroff was laughing at something one of his professors had told him, and Harry could make out the man's distinctly yellow teeth.

Quirrell had told him that the seating for the Professors at Durmstrang were based on their tenure, importance, and favor they held with the Highmaster, who basically ran the school as his own private kingdom. Spotting Grausam sitting near the far left of the table, considerably far from the Highmaster, Harry was secretly pleased to see that the grumpy Dark Arts teacher wasn't exactly high up in the Durmstrang pecking order.

Taking a seat near the middle of one of the tables, Harry watched as the hall slowly filled up with students. A few older students looked curiously at him before ultimately deciding to ignore him and go about their conversations.

Once everyone seemed to be seated, Karkaroff stood and immediately the hall fell silent. Harry was slightly impressed, the only person he had seen quiet a room that quickly was Dumbledore. "I have two announcements to make before we begin the feast," Karkaroff began. "We have a new student this term. Raise your glasses and welcome Harry Potter to Durmstrang."

As one, everyone seemed to raise their empty golden goblets in front of them and said, "Harry Potter," but immediately after the glasses were put down several mummers of conversation could be heard around the hall.

"Mr. Potter has come from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain, and being..." Harry couldn't place the word Karkaroff said. "...and his excellent academic scores, he was deemed acceptable ... standards."

Most of the rumblings going on around the hall seemed to quell after Karkaroff's words, clearly whatever the Highmaster had said seemed to be accepted by most the students. "My second announcement is that due to the excessive ... that happened last fall. Using offensive magic in the corridors is punishable by … and two days of … now."

Harry was frustrated that he couldn't understand what Karkaroff was saying, however, judging from the utter silence and the look of shock on several people's faces, the students were clearly uncomfortable with whatever the punishment was. Harry felt the tiniest bit of apprehension as he reminded himself that Durmstrang was not like Hogwarts, and he did not want to get into any trouble.

"Now that the announcements have been taken care of, let the feast begin!" Karkaroff decreed, causing plates full of food to appear along the tables.

As Harry put some mash potatoes onto his plate, he noticed several students, who couldn't have been much older than himself, sending dark glances in his direction. When one of them met his eyes and mouthed 'half-blood' before spitting on the ground in disgust, Harry felt a surge of resentment. He had hoped that Durmstrang would have been different.

ooo0000ooo

How I Met My Friend

Transfiguration Classroom, Durmstrang, (Jan 12th)...

Dirty, frustrated, and tired, Harry made his way into his last class of the day.

His first day at Durmstrang had been as awful as it could possibly get. In Dark Arts, Harry had attempted to introduce himself, but he could tell a few students didn't like him from the moment he entered the classroom. While there were a lot more students who seemed initially accepting of him, his poor German made communicating difficult, and Professor Grausam did his best to ensure that none of the other first years liked him by the end of the class.

Grausam seemed to hold Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class in contempt for some reason, and he ordered Harry to duel several students to prove he could keep up with the material. Harry had fought and beaten a quarter of the class before Grausam angrily told him to sit down and to stop showing off. For the rest of the class, Harry had to deal with the angry glares and bitter comments, only half of which he understood, from all the students he had beaten.

Herbology was the first class that Harry felt could be considered superior to Hogwarts. Since very few magical plants were able grow in the arctic, the greenhouses at Durmstrang were enchanted to keep out the cold and the snow while protecting the artificial environment inside. There were dozens of these greenhouses with varied environments, and they allowed the students to experiment on many different exotic plants, even though the school's locations should have made that impossible.

While he was impressed by the system, Harry had struggled to understand what was happening in the class. Eventually, Harry realized that his teacher wanted him to transplant some Fanged Geraniums. Harry was bitten several times by the plant before, in his frustration, he blew a hole in the ground with a blasting curse and levitated the disgusting plant into it. Professor Guiles had not been pleased at Harry's unorthodox tactics in dealing with the ferocious plant, but since Harry hadn't technically done anything wrong, he wasn't punished. He was, however, ranted at for several minutes after class by Professor Guiles. The only thing Harry took from the seemingly endless stream of angry German was that such methods were never accepted in Professor Guiles' greenhouse.

After his debacle in Herbology, Harry had eaten a brief lunch before heading off to his other first year class, Spell Creation. While initially excited at the idea of making his own spells, the moment Harry entered the classroom, Professor Cherny had given him an exam and told him to spend the class answering the questions while he lectured to everyone else. By the time the class ended, Harry was depressingly certain that he had answered only four of the twenty-two questions correct.

The entire first semester in Spell Creation was spent discussing how specific wand movements effect charms, transfiguration, and curses. With a very limited foundation to build upon, Harry didn't have a clue how to go about designing his own spells or altering existing ones. Professor Cherny seemed to have no interest in helping to catch him up, and Harry knew he'd need to work very hard if he wanted to pass the class.

Hoping to put an end to a very bad first day, Harry entered his Transfiguration classroom and took a seat near the back. Several students filtered in, and more than a few were surprised to see a first year sitting in their class. Several glared at him and even more asked him if he was lost. Fortunately, Professor Rosemburg entered from his office and the class settled down.

"As you all can see, Harry Potter will be joining us– " Rosemburg commented.

Before the professor could continue, the door opened and a fairly well-built black-haired boy entered the room, looking disheveled and embarrassed.

"Krum!" Rosemburg snapped angrily. "Why are you late to my class on the first day?"

"I'm sorry Professor, I was flying and I..."

"Fool! Do you really think I'll let you re-take this class again? Take a seat, and if you are late again I will … with … and I hope they will chew through your hands," Rosemburg snarled as most the class hid chuckles under their breaths.

"It will not happen again," Krum said as he turned to take a seat. Harry momentarily locked eyes with the boy and Krum seemed surprised to see someone new in the class. Krum weaved his way through the desks, and took a seat next to Harry.

"Now that Mr. Krum has graced us with his presence," said Rosemburg sarcastically, "we will begin. Several of you wrote to me over the holidays about your … and I have to say that I am not … with many of them. You are all … and incapable of thought. Potter!" he said suddenly, causing Harry to jerk his head up. "Do you have any … for your … perhaps something from Hogwarts that can be shared?"

Harry had no idea what Professor Rosemburg was talking about. "Sir, my German is still not well. I have language charm on, but there is much I know not," he replied hesitantly.

"Idiot boy," Rosemburg barked. "You transferred to Durmstrang without knowing German? Did you think we would all speak English just for you, Potter?"

"No, sir, I not think that," Harry said quickly as most of the class laughed at his poor grammar and pronunciation.

"You are useless, Potter," Rosemburg said tiredly, "How can you learn if you don't even know what I am saying?"

"I try my best, sir," Harry said now slightly annoyed at being called useless. "Language Charm not working well for me, I practice with it for long time."

"To stupid for the language charm to work properly for you, Potter?" the boy in front of him asked quietly.

Harry wanted snap that the language charm had nothing to do with intelligence; Headmaster Dumbledore had insured him of that! It was just that certain people reacted differently to it, or had a talent with languages. No one knew why, it just happened that way.

"If you … on being in my classroom," Rosemburg said, drawing Harry's attention back to the professor, "you will … and be silent, Potter, understood?"

Harry didn't understand, but he nodded his agreement anyway as Rosemburg began to lecture. Harry tried to keep up with what was being said but it was hard.

"You do not understand?" Krum asked quietly.

Harry turned to face the older boy. "No," he whispered, "I need more time with the language charm. I will learn."

"Do you have class after this?" Krum asked, speaking slowly so Harry could understand.

"No."

"Then after class I will help you. The more time you spend speaking and hearing German, the easier it will get."

"German isn't your first language?"

Krum shook his head. "I am from Bulgaria, but we need … attention, or else Professor Rosemburg will be angry with us."

The rest of the class was a struggle for Harry. By the time it was over, Harry understood that Professor Rosemburg was saying something about animate-to-animate Transfiguration, but a majority of the lecture was lost to him. Harry was very happy that Durmstrang didn't make him write many essays or take a lot of quizzes as there was no way he would have been able to answer anything over the lecture he just sat through.

When Professor Rosemburg announced the end of the class and instructed the students to read certain pages in their books before the next lecture, Krum stood up and motioned for Harry to follow him.

Krum led Harry out of the classroom and down the hall until they entered a pair of double doors that led to the Durmstrang library. Harry's eyes widened at the impressive collection of books and manuscripts that Durmstrang had collected. There were countless shelves filled with books that seemed to stretch to the ceiling. The thought of all those books, but being unable to read them was beyond frustrating to Harry, and he mentally committed himself to learning the language as quickly as possible.

"This way," said Krum, leading Harry through the library and into the back corner where a single table sat. Krum waved his wand and Harry looked at him, curious to see what the spell did. "A privacy charm," was Krum's abrupt response.

"Good idea. We wouldn't want to get kicked out."

"No, that would be very bad," Krum said darkly. "The librarian is very strict."

Harry nodded his head in understanding. If Madam Pince at Hogwarts had access to corporal punishment, who knows what she would had done to the students who disturbed the peace of her library.

"So...," Krum said awkwardly.

"Yeah, so..." Harry replied. "Do you not get along with the other kids here?"

"What makes you say that?" Krum asked defensively.

"Well," Harry said, trying not to upset the one person who had been nice to him. "Where I am from, friends would not laugh at you for getting yelled at by a professor."

Krum appraised Harry for a moment before nodding. "I suppose you are right. No, I do not get along with many. Most students think I am stupid after I dropped two classes during my first year."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously. "It is better to learn lots, no?"

"Yes, but I know what I want to do, and I did not need those classes."

"Oh?" Harry asked somewhat intrigued. "What do you want to do?"

"I have always wanted to become a great Quidditch player," Krum said wistfully.

"You sound like my brother." Harry laughed. "I think it's his dream to become a Quidditch star as well."

Krum scowled. "I do not dream about being great, I will be great. I run through the snow everyday to build strength, I practice every day to get better, and I study strategy every night to understand the game. I will become the greatest Quidditch player in the world."

Harry couldn't help but be impressed by Krum's determination. Nathan might have talked about being a great Quidditch player someday, but he didn't spend every waking moment pushing himself to become a great player like Krum was. Although, Harry mused, that was probably a good thing. Harry was sure his mother would kill Nathan if he spent every waking moment thinking about Quidditch.

"What position do you play?"

A slight smile crossed Krum's face. "Seeker. I have not lost a single match at Durmstrang."

"My brother plays seeker at Hogwarts, but he's not as dedicated as you. It is a lot of hard work to practice that much, no?"

"Yes," Krum said seriously. "I dropped Herbology and History of Magic after my first year to spend more time practicing. I was very worried I would fail Charms and Transfiguration last year, and I was fortunate that the professors decided to allow me to retake the classes. I must graduate Durmstrang. Every Krum for six centuries has managed it. I cannot break my family's tradition, but I will not give up what I love. Since I dropped two classes in my first year, and I am retaking Charms and Transfiguration, people believe me to be stupid. They call me 'broomloon' and think I am some dumb Quidditch player. I will prove them all wrong someday."

Harry grinned; he knew exactly what Krum was talking about.

Seeing Harry's grin, Viktor snapped, "You think it is funny what they call me? You think my goal is stupid?"

Harry's smile vanished. "No, I do not think it is at all that. I-I can... relate," he said, quickly trying to find the right words in German. "At Hogwarts, I spend a lot of time studying. I want to be a great wizard. The other kids, they all mock me for doing well. I understand you wanting something and doing what you must to get it. I leave Hogwarts because Durmstrang let me move up in years and gives me access to more knowledge."

Krum no longer looked angry; instead, he had a very thoughtful look on his face. "We are much alike, then, Harry Potter. So, what is your favorite class?"

Slowly, a smile crept onto Harry's face as he told Krum what he liked the most about magic.

ooo0000ooo

Friendly Banter

Durmstrang Library, (Jan. 19th)

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Viktor asked, looking up from his Potions book.

Dropping back into his chair, Harry shook his head. "No, it was checked out. I had to get a book on transfiguration."

"Are you still having trouble reading German?"

"A little," Harry said hesitantly, "Reading is much easier than speaking however. I still think in English, and you say I will eventually think in German, yes?"

Viktor nodded. "Once you start thinking in German, that's when you know the language charm has completely worked. I don't think you have much longer though. If you can read German, then it shows your mind is slowly starting to grasp the language. It will probably take you another few days, but you are making good progress. You no longer have trouble understanding people, right?"

"Yes, I understand now, but it is even more frustrating." At Viktor's curious look, Harry tried to elaborate. "I know what people say, so I want to talk and answer questions, but I know I sound stupid. Like in Charms, I try to answer question from Professor Kosarev about engorgement charm, but I make little sense. I hear how dumb I sound, and I hate it."

Much to Harry's surprise, Viktor just smiled. "But don't you see Harry, that's a good thing. You recognize that your German is poor, and you will improve because of it. It is just like in Quidditch. If I fall for another Seeker's feint, I will do my best to not make the same error again."

Harry laughed. "How is it that you can relate everything to Quidditch?"

"It's a gift, Harry. Besides, do not pretend that you did not enjoy my match yesterday."

Harry knew that Viktor was right. Quidditch at Durmstrang was an incredible spectacle. The entire school was obligated to attend every match, and often people who didn't care for the sport spent the time catching up on their homework. In order for the players to see properly during the night, the stadium was spelled with thousands of overhead lights, which, combined with the snow covered pitch, illuminated the entire field in an eerie white glow.

Since there were no houses to separate students, the teams represented a faculty member, who retained an incredible amount of control over the team. Winning the Quidditch cup was often more important to the faculty than the students at Durmstrang, and the professors took the game very seriously. They would routinely watch their teams practice and were known to remove their team's captain if they felt he wasn't selecting the best players for the team.

Viktor had been spotted during his first year doing intense aerial maneuvers by the Charms Master, Professor Kosarev, and, within a week, he had won the spot of starting seeker on the Charms team. In the only match Harry had seen so far, Viktor had led a Bludger right into the face of an opposing Beater, breaking the boy's nose and sending him flying off his broom. Later, Viktor had managed to trick the opposing Seeker into crashing into a box full of fourth year students, causing a few injuries to the students and knocking the other team's Seeker out of the match. Needless to say, Harry had been awed by his friend's ability on a broomstick.

"Yes, it was a good match," Harry admitted. "Have they released the other Seeker from the Hospital Wing yet?"

"No. I heard he fractured his skull. Stupid sixth-year should have known not to mark me so closely."

"You can be scary sometimes Viktor."

"I know," Viktor replied. "It is another gift."

ooo0000ooo

Acceptance Is Unacceptable

Transfiguration Classroom, (Jan. 22nd)

"Potter," Professor Rosemburg called out, "stay after for a moment."

Harry bid Viktor goodbye and waited for everyone to filter out of the room. When he was alone with the Transfiguration Professor, Rosemburg smiled. "I must say, Potter, I am impressed. When I heard that a first year was to be entering my third year class, I thought it had to be a mistake. Your contributions to the discussion today tells me otherwise. Where exactly did you learn about using Transfiguration in duels?"

"It was just something I read about at Hogwarts, sir," Harry replied, happy that his German had finally become passable.

"Mr. Potter." Rosemburg smirked. "I am somewhat familiar with the Hogwarts curriculum, and I know that battle-transfiguration is not a part of it. So, please, be honest."

"I really like transfiguration, sir, and I looked up a lot of advanced transfigurations on my own time." Technically, that was true, Harry thought. Professor Quirrell never specifically told him what to study in order to prepare for his 'lessons.' It was just something Harry had thought might be helpful. Unfortunately, the spells were far too advanced for him, but that didn't mean that Harry didn't find the entire idea fascinating.

"I see, well, I'm rather impressed, Mr. Potter. Tell me, have you ever tried any of the spells you mentioned today?"

"No sir, the spells all seemed really complicated, and I didn't have the time to practice them."

"Good. You could have hurt yourself trying to do that kind of advanced transfiguration. I'd say you are still a few years away from trying anything along those lines, Potter, but it is still impressive that you have actually researched the spells. Tell me, have you had any problems with the end of the year spell list so far?"

"I've only practiced a couple of them, sir, but the first few haven't been that difficult."

"Show me." Rosemburg took out a small mouse from one of his desk's drawers and placed it on the table. "Turn this mouse into another animal."

After a moment's hesitation, Harry waved his wand over the frantic creature, and, immediately, the small mouse's body began to shift and contort. The mouse's white fur soon became a sickly green skin, its head grew several inches, and the creature's legs coiled back.

Rosemburg cast a freezing charm on the toad to prevent it from hopping off his desk, and he began to closely inspect the creature. "A good job," he said slowly. "The only flaw I can detect is that the toad's eyes are somewhat pinkish."

"I'll work on it, sir."

"You do that Potter. I traditionally like to see my third years turn a rat into a cat or animal of that size by the end of the year. Right now I'd say you are a little behind the rest of the class in practical application, but if you work hard, you should be able to catch up by the end of February. If you need help with anything or have any questions, my door will be open to you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said gratefully.

"Oh, and Potter, I'm glad that you were able to get the language issue resolved. I had hoped to talk to you about your place in the class after the first lesson, but with your rudimentary knowledge of German, it would have been a waste of my time."

"I understand," Harry said honestly, "thankfully Viktor was able to help me with the language charm."

"Krum?" Rosemburg asked in surprise.

"Yes, sir."

"Whatever works I suppose. Have a good day, Potter."

Nodding his head, Harry quickly left the room in a great mood. The language charm had finally taken, and today was the first time he had been able to properly communicate with his professors. While Grausam still seemed to strongly dislike him, and Professor Cherny continued to ignore his very existence, Professor Guiles had been pleased with his work in Herbology, and, clearly, Professor Rosemburg had been impressed with his transfiguration knowledge. Overall, Harry thought that the day couldn't have gone much better.

Turning the corner, Harry walked down the corridor that lead to the main staircase. As he was passing an empty charms classroom, however, he was violently slammed into the wall. Dazed, Harry dropped his bag, and he felt two sets of hands grab him. Before he realized what was happening, he was lifted up and tossed unceremoniously into the unoccupied Charms classroom.

Picking himself up off the floor, Harry turned around when he heard the door to the classroom slam shut. Facing him were four third-years from his transfiguration class, and they all had their wands pointed at him.

"I think we need to talk Potter," a large boy said casually as his three friends glared at Harry. "You see, I don't think you properly understand how things work at Durmstarng. You might be in our transfiguration class, but that doesn't mean you get to show us up."

"I didn't show yo–"

"Silencio," the boy said. "I was talking, Potter. Didn't your Mudblood mother ever tell you that it's rude to interrupt your betters?"

"I doubt it Marcos," another boy said. "Bitch probably spent too much time on her knees servicing his dad."

"True," Marcos replied, "How else could a Mudblood convince a Pureblood to sully their family line. Your mother must have a wonderful tongue, Potter."

Enraged, Harry drew his wand, only to be immediately disarmed by the second boy.

"What exactly were you planning on doing with this?" The boy mockingly asked, twirling Harry's wand.

Harry looked between the four boys warily. With no wand, he was a sitting target for them to curse at will.

"Now, Potter, before your violent little outburst, we were having such a pleasant conversation. We don't want to hurt you, but you seem to have it in your head that you're a real wizard. You're not. You're a half-blood, which means you're only half a wizard, and half-wizards can't do as well as real wizards. That just doesn't make any sense, does it?"

The boy currently twirling Harry's wand took a threatening step forward. "It's time that you begin showing the proper respect to your betters Potter, and you can start by not being such a fucking know-it-all. We know you probably inherited your mother's talented mouth, and you are probably eager to start sucking Rosemburg's cock, but that doesn't mean you get to do better than us. So, do we understand each other, Potter? Finite."

Fighting the urge to charge the boys with his fists for insulting his mother, Harry growled out, "I am not trying to make you look bad."

"Potter, Potter, Potter," Marcus said sadly. "This isn't a debate. Do you understand us or do we need to teach you a lesson?"

Looking between the four boys and their wands, Harry knew he should probably just agree and get out of this situation. He was disarmed and in an empty classroom, but he didn't come all the way to Durmstrang just to be intimidated into doing badly. Besides, Harry refused to give them the satisfaction of mocking him and his mother. He wasn't a half-wizard, he was better than them, and they knew it. "No," he spat, "It's not my fault you're all so stupid that you can't do better than a first year."

Harry knew it was unnecessary to mock them, but he didn't care, they were going to curse him anyway.

"Fuck you, Potter," Marcos snarled, "let's see how much better you are when you can't make it to class! Perco–"

Diving to the side, Harry hoped to avoid Marcos' first spell; however, before the curse could be completed, the door to the room burst open. From his spot on the ground, Harry looked up in time to see Marcos get blasted into the teacher's desk, and he didn't make to get up. Immediately, two other boys dropped to the ground from a pair of stunning spells, and Harry noticed that his wand was only a few feet away from him.

Without hesitation, Harry got to his feet and sprinted for his wand. Grabbing it, Harry stood up, and was halfway through the incantation for the full-body bind when the last boy crumpled to the floor unconscious. Turning to see who had helped him, Harry was surprised to Viktor standing over the fallen third year.

"Harry," Viktor asked in concern, "are you alright?"

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked trying to stop his body from shaking slightly.

"I saw your bag was ripped open outside the door, and I heard you speaking to people inside."

"Y-you helped me? W-why?"

Viktor frowned. "You're my friend."

"Oh," Harry said in embarrassment, "I-I thought you just wanted to help me with the language charm. I didn't think you'd actually want to... just never mind."

"Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

"No." Harry gestured to the four third-years "What do we do about them?"

"Leave them," Viktor spat, "they'll wake up eventually. Come on, let's go get some diner."

"Okay...thank you Viktor."

"You are welcome Harry."

ooo0000ooo

Learning Your Place

Durmstrang Library, (Jan. 31st)...

"Hello, Lady Doktor," Harry said giving the resident Durmstrang librarian a charming smile. If there was one similarity between Hogwarts and Durmstrang, it was that both schools' librarians loved to talk –and brag– about their library. Harry had managed to endear himself to the normally short-tempered Durmstrang librarian after they had gotten into a long discussion about the differences between the Hogwarts and Durmstrang libraries. Lady Doktor was disgusted by Hogwarts' Restricted section, and she was very pleased when Harry told her that one of the reasons he came to Durmstrang was that they didn't have such a thing.

"Harry." Lady Doktor smiled at the boy. "What can I help you with today?"

"I'm returning this book," Harry said, placing a very heavy tome on animate-to-animate Transfiguration on the woman's desk.

With a wave of her wand, the book flew off her desk, presumably going back to where it belonged in the massive Durmstrang library. "Very well, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Do you have any good books on revealing Charms?"

"Yes, one was just returned a few days ago." Lady Doktor casually summoned the book from one of the shelves behind Harry. "Would you like it?"

Harry nodded his head, and he soon found himself buried in the book's pages. The tome described everything from a simple 'Finite' charm that would reveal basic codes and hidden text, to the more advanced revealing spells such as Homenum Revelio, which would reveal any human near the caster, regardless of Disillusionment Charms or Invisibility Cloaks.

Glancing at his watch, Harry shook his head. Viktor was late again.

Ever since Viktor had saved him, Harry had done his best to repay his friend. Since he was in Viktor's Charms class, along with Transfiguration, Harry had decided to help his friend do better academically. While Viktor had already taken the classes, he had ignored the theoretical portion of Charms and Transfiguration for a long time, and it was partially the reason for his poor mastery of the spells. Since Harry had a strong background in theory, he did his best to help Viktor grasp some of the concepts that went over his head.

At first, Viktor tried to deny that he needed the help, but Harry wouldn't take no for an answer. Eventually, Harry was able argue that the better Viktor understood his Charms and Transfiguration theory, the easier the spells would be to cast, which would mean more time for him to play Quidditch and less time practicing spells. While it wasn't exactly true that learning theory made spells casting easier, Harry suspected that Viktor just needed an excuse to mentally justify accepting the help of someone three years younger than him.

Finishing up a very interesting chapter on the Homorphus Charm –a powerful spell that will force an animagus to retake their original appearance – Harry put the book in his bag. It appeared like Viktor had lost track of time again while practicing Quidditch. Getting up to go back to his room, Harry was thinking about the benefits of using the Homorphus Charm to stop his uncle Sirius from pranking him over the summer when he heard someone hiss, "Ossis Fragmen."

A moment later, Harry was on the ground screaming, his bag blasted clean off his shoulder as the bone breaking curse smashed into his scapula.

"Stay down, Mr. Potter," Lady Doktor commanded as she drew her wand and came out from behind her counter to search for the person who cast the curse. Harry didn't need to be told, it wasn't as if he thought he could get up anyway. Slowly, the pain in his back increased until it became too much for him, and he passed out.

ooo0000ooo

The Megara Mystery

Hospital Wing, Durmstrang, (Feb. 1st)...

Noise.

At some-point, Harry's senses became aware of it, and, slowly, he began to wake up. While he was groggy, the sounds around him became progressively clearer. There was a man and a woman, and it sounded like they were arguing.

"...can not send out that letter!"

"I am following your policy ... no choice in the matter."

"... was something else ... bone breaking curse ... like someone was actually trying to harm the boy."

"... what other purpose for using a bone-breaking curse ... wanted Mr. Potter hurt!"

At the mention of his name, Harry opened his eyes. He was laying face down on an uncomfortable bed with white sheets. Turning his head to the side, he saw numerous other beds lining the room. He was in the infirmary.

Slowly, the memory of what had happened in the library returned, and Harry became acutely aware of a horrible stabbing pain in his back. It felt like his back was covered in splinters and someone was periodically ripping them out, only to immediately replace them again. He grimaced and let out a slight whimper of pain, which quickly alerted the other occupants of the room of his consciousness.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter can you hear me?"

Harry saw a large woman looking down at him in concern.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," the woman replied happily, "I am Lady Shluga, the matron of the hospital wing. Now, Mr. Potter, you were hit with a bone breaking curse, and the damage was severe. I spent most of last night carefully vanishing all traces of the destroyed bone, and I dosed you with Skele-grow to replace your scapula. I'm sorry to say that you're going to be in for an uncomfortable few hours."

"Did you catch who did it?" Harry asked. He sincerely hoped that whoever cursed him was feeling just as much pain as he was at the moment.

"No," the Highmaster said, stepping forward. "We tried to find the person responsible, but the situation quickly drew the attraction of many students, and it's likely that your attacker slipped in amongst them to pose as a merely curious onlooker."

Harry felt his temper flair. Here he was getting his back rebuilt, and they hadn't even caught the person responsible. Did they even try? When he told his parents...

His parents!

If they found out that he was attacked within his first month of school, they'd have him out of Durmstrang within an hour. Biting his lip, Harry asked, "Do my parents know what happened?"

A worried expression appeared on Lady Shluga's face. "I was just about to send out the notice to your parents, Mr. Potter. I was too busy last night making sure that the various bone shards were not threatening any of your organs. However, now that you are out of danger and conscious, I will let them know of your condition."

"No," Harry said quickly, "please don't!"

"What?" Lady Shluga asked in confusion before turning to glare at the Highmaster. "Did you threaten the poor boy."

"I have done no such thing," Karkaroff said dangerously, "and you should remember your place, Yvanna."

Lady Shluga immediately paled. "My, my apologies Highmaster. I, I simply get worked up over the health of my patients."

Turning to look at Harry, Karkaroff smiled slightly, showing his yellow teeth. "Why don't you want a notice to be sent out, Mr. Potter?"

"My parents will withdraw me from Durmstrang if they find out, sir. They, well, it took Professor Dumbledore convincing them that I would be safe here to even let me attend. I really do like it here, sir, and I don't want to leave."

Karkaroff flinched slightly at the mention of Dumbledore. Most of the world saw Albus Dumbledore as a gentle and kind-hearted old man; however, Igor saw the other side of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

He saw the man who could casually appear inside of Durmstrang's wards by means of that filthy Phoenix companion of his. He saw the man who had once effortlessly set him on fire during a duel in Hogsmeade. He saw the man with more political connections than anyone in the world. Finally, he saw the man who had a lifetime's worth of blackmail on him, and had no qualms about using it to get his way.

Igor did his best to force the memory of Dumbledore threatening to turn him over to the Russians for the role he played in the Leningrad Massacre of 1980. The old man had given him a simple quid pro quo. Keep Harry Potter safe...or be prepared to spend the rest of his life slaving away in a warded gulag.

Knowing he had no choice and that it was too late to rescind Potter's acceptance, Igor increased the restrictions on performing magic in the halls. It was typically tradition for all first years to undergo a hazing of sorts during their time at Durmstrang. The professors would turn a blind eye towards any student who sent a spell at a first year, provided they kept it within reason.

That could not be allowed with Harry Potter. If a student took it too far and Potter was hurt... Naturally, Igor had tightened the restrictions about casting spells in the hallway, and he made certain to make an example out of the first brat to break his rule. He had also explained to the faculty that Harry Potter was to be monitored carefully.

Now Potter was in the infirmary with a broken scapula, and the matron wanted to inform the boy's parents. That simply could not happen. "Yvanna, clearly, Mr. Potter doesn't want his parents to know what happened. Surely you can make an exception in this one case."

Lady Shluga looked between the Highmaster's decidedly dangerous stare and the Potter boy's pleading eyes. She had been prepared to cross Karkaroff if he attempted to force her to not send the letter out. It would have probably cost her position, but she was a good healer, and she would find another job. However, if the Potter boy didn't want his parents to know that someone had viciously cursed him... well, she couldn't justify loosing her job for someone that didn't even want her help. "Very well Highmaster, it will be as you wish. Now, Mr. Potter, I believe you have a visitor."

"Really?" Harry glanced over at a clock and saw that it was almost ten in the morning. Viktor would be at Quidditch practice, so who would bother visiting him? "Who?"

"A Ms. Megara. I shall tell her that you are awake. She's just doing some homework in my office right now."

As Lady Shluga walked away, Karkaroff grinned down at Harry. "I'm glad that we don't need to let anyone know about this unfortunate situation, Mr. Potter, and I'm pleased that you are so far enjoying your time at Durmstrang."

"Um, thank you, sir," Harry replied as he tried to figure out who Ms. Megara was, and why she would be visiting him.

"My best on your recovery, Harry," the Highmaster said before leaving the infirmary.

The door to Lady Shluga's office opening directed Harry's attention away from the retreating Highmaster, and he noticed the matron of the infirmary walking towards him; however, when Harry got his first look at this visitor, he felt his heart skip a beat. His visitor was a very attractive third or fourth year girl with olive skin, shoulder length brown hair, and hazel eyes. She was carrying a book on Spell Creation under her arm, and appeared to be annoyed about something.

"As you can see Ms. Megara, Mr. Potter is awake. Now, I've got some paperwork to take care of, so why don't I just leave you two here to talk."

"Thank you Lady Shluga," the girl said sweetly.

"Who are you?" Harry asked curiously.

The girl waited until Lady Shluga was back in her office before replying, "Shut up Potter. I doubt you want to be here, but I really don't want to waste my time babysitting you. So, don't speak to me. In fact, don't even look at me."

Harry simply stared at the girl in disbelief. "W-What?"

Sighing, the girl sat down in a chair near Harry's bed and took out her wand. "Silencio."

Harry tried to scream for help, but nothing would come out of his mouth. He looked up at the girl in horror, thoughts of being cursed in his own hospital bed raced through his mind. Was this girl the person who cursed him in the library? Was she here to finish him off?

Noticing his wand on the end table next to him, Harry was about to make a desperate drive for it when the girl said, "By Zeus, Potter would you stop fidgeting? I'm trying to study!"

Stunned, Harry stopped moving and looked back at the girl. She was just sitting there, not even paying him the slightest bit of attention. After a few tense moments where the girl didn't even lift her eyes from the book she was reading, Harry realized that the girl was not a threat to him, but why was she here? And why had she silenced him?

The two sat together in complete silence, the only sound coming from the girl turning the pages of her book. Harry continued to observe the girl, unsure of what to think about her.

"I told you to not look at me."

Harry simply raised an eyebrow and continued to look at the rapidly bothered girl.

"Do you want me to curse you Potter?"

Frustrated and annoyed at the girl's attitude, Harry was about to throw an extra pillow at her when the door to the infirmary opened, and Viktor walked inside.

He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, and was sweating slightly; however, Harry was never happier to see a familiar face. Viktor, likewise, appeared pleased to see him. "Harry, you're awake!"

Harry was about to motion to his throat, signaling that he couldn't talk, when he heard the girl mutter a quiet "finite," removing the silencing spell.

With his voice returned and confident that Viktor would help him if she started throwing spells, Harry turned to face the girl. "What the hell is your problem!"

The girl simply ignored Harry's outburst before standing up and walking over to Viktor. "You smell, and shouldn't you be at practice for another hour?"

"A few of my teammates will be joining Harry in the infirmary shortly." Viktor grinned. "Maybe the next time I ask for a practice to be rescheduled they will listen to me."

"You two know each other?" Harry asked his friend in surprise.

Viktor laughed. "Kira is my girlfriend Harry. I thought it would be a good idea for you to have a friendly face around when you woke up. Since I had to go to practice, I asked her to stay here."

"Yeah, she's real friendly," Harry muttered under his breath.

Kira glanced at Harry with disdain. "Better than you deserve half-blood."

"Kira," Viktor scowled, "apologize."

For a second, Harry thought Kira was going to laugh at the suggestion, but then she saw the serious expression on Viktor's face. "Sorry Potter," she said unconvincingly. "Happy Viktor? Now, I'm leaving." Without a second glace, Kira swiftly grabbed her book and walked out of the infirmary.

"So," Harry said uncomfortably, "how long have you been dating her?"

"Since October." Viktor replied. "She's normally not like that."

"Is she a fourth year as well?"

"No, although she is in fourth year spell creation, she is a third year. She and I have been good friends ever since I stopped some students in our second year spell creation class from picking on her. I had hoped that you two would have gotten along better."

"Yeah, what did I ever do to make her so upset with me? I haven't even seen her before."

"Kira," Viktor said slowly as if deciding how much to tell his new friend, "is very competitive. She has constantly ranked among the best students in Spell Creation, and she is one of the better duelists in her Dark Arts class. I believe she is slightly jealous of your placement into two third year classes. And, well, I had hoped that she would keep her opinions on blood to herself, but she strongly disapproves of anyone who is not a pureblood being accepted at Durmstrang."

"Why?"

"Kira's family is from Greece, and they have one of the oldest pureblood lineages in Europe; however, her family is unique in many ways."

"Unique how?"

"It is not my place to say, Harry." Viktor said with finality.

Harry wondered exactly what kind of family situation would make Kira dislike him. He had never even heard of the Megara family, and he didn't think they were death eaters. "Well, as long as you like her, and she is...well, what I mean to say is, ugh, well, you know."

"Yes?" Viktor grinned. "She is what?"

Feeling his face heat up slightly, Harry muttered, "She is kind of pretty."

Viktor smiled. "Yes, yes she is, but enough about Kira. How long are you going to be in the hospital wing for and did they catch the person responsible?"

Before Harry could answer, the doors to the hospital wing burst open and three dirty and bruised boys began levitating three other boys into beds. Harry noticed that all the boys were wearing the same Quidditch uniform as Viktor, who was smirking at the scene.

"Did you do all that?"

"Yes," Viktor said proudly, "I'm actually surprised that they were able to get Lucas out of the ground so fast. I had thought he would've been buried for at least an hour."

Harry's eyes widened. How did someone get buried during Quidditch practice?

Seeing his friend's curious expression, Viktor said, "Trust me, Harry, you don't want to know."