"Sorry, no letter for you today. How have you been doing, girl? You look very pretty!" Like always, Hedwig offered no response beyond rubbing her head against Hannah's knuckles, preening at the light strokes over her feathered plume. "Are the other owls being nice?" Hedwig barked twice, and a few hoots from possibly offended owls came in reply.

The Owlery wasn't her favourite place to spend a Saturday evening. Honestly, despite how open it was to the outdoors, Hannah found it rather claustrophobic, the constant movement and sound of more than a hundred owls providing a sensory overload.

And of course, there was the smell.

Nonetheless, the Hufflepuff dormitories were many, many flights of stairs below, so weekends were the best time to visit with her owl. Still, Hannah couldn't wait for the weather to warm up enough to sit outside again.

The heavy door that led back to the castle creaked, then slid roughly over the dirty stone floor of the Owlery. It was hardly uncommon for other students to visit the Owlery, so Hannah didn't bother to turn around to see who it was. Unfortunately, it wasn't just any 'other student' that arrived.

"Hey! C'mere, you ruddy bird, I need you to take this home for me!" Hannah recognised that voice. "Hurry up, and you'd better not dawdle in getting there!"

Spinning slowly so as to not upset Hedwig's perch on her arm, she turned in indignation at his consistently snotty behaviour. "You know, owls hunt at night. You should really send your letters earlier so they aren't flying on an empty stomach."

Draco finished attaching the letter to the talons of a large eagle owl, half-again as big as Hedwig. "Fancy yourself a creatures expert, do you? No one cares about your opinions, you stupid bint."

Thank Merlin Hufflepuff didn't have to share classes with Slytherin. "Why do you have to be so horrid all the time?"

"Why do you have to be so empty-headed? I guess the world's full of mysteries, Abbott."

"I'm not empty-headed!"

The preparations complete, Draco launched the owl into the air, the dark-brown avian flying out of the tower, a swiftly receding dot on in the already darkening sky. "Then why not shut your mouth and prove it?"

This time, he didn't have his Housemates to back him up. "I should throw you out the window!"

"Go ahead and try it," he challenged, chuckling when Hannah simply clenched her fists in impotence. "That's what I thought. You're just like all the rest."

"How can you treat people like this?" she asked. "None of us did anything to you, and you're- you're just…" she trailed off, practically choking in her rage.

A snarl twisted his aristocratic features. "How can I? How can you! You and all the others betray the very blood that runs in your veins, associating with that corrupt Ministry and the filthy mudbloods! Don't you have any self-respect?"

"I don't 'associate' with the Ministry anymore than you do. I'm a Hogwarts student. And who cares about blood status? All the muggleborns I've met are a lot nicer than you!"

"You act like I don't have good reason. How many times did you wake up in the middle of the night, men with wands coming to search your home for supposed fugitives? How many times have you had your parents taken in for questioning, simply for being born from respectable families? Wake up, Abbott! The Ministry doesn't represent proper wizards any longer. It only exists to subjugate us in favour of elevating those who would steal our customs, traditions, and our very magic!"

She'd heard this speech before, though perhaps not with such fanaticism. "My mum is dead. My auntie is dead. My dad's been in St. Mungo's for years. So you're right, I don't know what it's like to have aurors come and interrogate them. I never will, because people like your family killed them!"

Draco stared at her for a moment without a single ounce of sympathy. "They picked the wrong side. You shouldn't make the same mistake."

March 2, 1992

Harry opened his eyes and made to stretch his arms over his head, though he soon aborted the attempt with a wince. Everything hurt.

"About time you woke up," Healer Horacek said from across the infirmary, reclining in his desk chair with his feet up, an open book levitating in front of him. "I'd grown weary of your snores."

What time was it? Harry looked out the nearby window, but was greeted only with darkness. That didn't tell him very much. "I'm hungry."

"Dinner, for a Rasmussen," Horacek ordered without standing, and a plate of food and a cup of juice appeared in Harry's lap.

"Wait." The food was noticeably lower quality than he'd had for lunch the day before. Had the rankings changed? "How long have I been asleep?"

"Five days," grumbled Horacek. "And halfway through the first I was ready to toss you out the window. I'm not a man who likes to be disturbed, Haraldson."

Five days? Harry wondered in surprise. Aloud, he said, "My apologies. I know you must've suffered greatly, what with me here unconscious and all."

The healer flicked his wand and a page turned on the floating book. "It wasn't you, but rather all your visitors. Do me a favour: the next time you find yourself with life-threatening injuries, don't last long enough for a rescue."

Harry couldn't help it, he giggled at the man's angry grumblings. "Who came to visit?" There was no response. "Am I, uh, all better now?"

"You're awake, aren't you?"

"I don't feel very well." That was true. Harry felt as though he'd been stretched on a rack for several days; he ached from his fingertips to his toes.

Horacek did not rise from his seat. "I checked you over this morning. The effects of a mara linger; you will likely feel exhausted for quite some time. The Headmaster requested you pay a visit to his office when you awoke. Off you go."

"The effects of a what?" He waited, but the healer simply ignored him, apparently deciding their conversation had concluded.

Harry finished eating, then slowly rose from the bed. His legs felt rubbery, but moving around eased some of his discomfort. He offered a cheerful farewell to Healer Horacek, grinning at the frustrated grunt that came in reply. Exiting the infirmary, Harry only made it half the length of the corridor before Maksim rounded the corner.

"You're awake!" he greeted, hurrying over. "What happened to you?"

"I was attacked by the same creature that hurt Mikhail," he said.

Maksim paled. "The 'night-strider'? It returned?" Harry nodded. "But you must have defeated it, you survived!"

The absolute confidence his friend displayed made Harry wish he actually had driven the creature off. If a great wizard needed rescuing, was he still a great wizard? Harry pondered this for several seconds, walking stiffly through the corridor with his friend.

Well, he ultimately decided, he was a great wizard, and he'd been rescued, so therefore sometimes great wizards needed rescuing. Harry gave it no further thought. "Headmaster Karkaroff defeated it."

"Really?"

"Do you know where his office is? I'm supposed to meet with him."

"No, but I bet Masha does. She's in the library, want me to fetch her for you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll tell you the story while we walk."

His experience in the forest ended up requiring two retellings, as Masha demanded he restart the story from the beginning once they found her.

"-and Horacek called it a 'mara'. Have you ever heard of that?"

"No. But if you're curious, no doubt the professors can tell you more. Why does the Headmaster want to meet with you?"

Harry rubbed his chin, trying to remember. "He said he wanted to talk to me about the Volga Lord. So I guess he wants to know about Father."

"Oh?" Masha slowed down, nearly causing Maksim - who'd been following behind the two of them - to crash into her. "What about him did the Headmaster want to know?"

"He didn't say."

"Harry," she said, her voice quiet and serious. "Be careful what you tell him. You shouldn't reveal too much about your father and Kitezh."

"He's probably just curious about all the changes since my father arrived, that's all. The Headmaster's Russian, isn't he?"

"No," Masha said firmly. "He is Bulgarian. And he is not a man you should trust."

"The Headmaster saved my life," Harry protested. "If he wanted to hurt me, he could've just left me in the corridor."

"He might have done so if he didn't see some value in keeping you alive." They came to a halt a few paces from a pair of arching, heavy doors. Masha lowered her voice even further. "This is only your first year. I have been here much longer; I still remember what it was like-"

"Miss Semonov - ah, and your brother, too!" Karkaroff unexpectedly appeared behind them. "I suppose you offered directions to Mr. Haraldson? I'm sure he appreciates your assistance, though it's rather surprising to see students - especially you - providing aid outside your own Assembly."

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," Masha dutifully said, nudging Maksim to echo her words.

"Yes, yes. Shall we?" he asked Harry, gesturing towards the doors, which swung open with a wave of his hand. Harry gave a cheerful wave to the Semonovs and walked inside.

Karkaroff strode forward, taking a seat behind a huge, elaborately constructed wooden desk. "So. Your father, he is the Volga Lord?"

Harry had some questions of his own. "That's right. How did you find me? Did the school's protections let you know? How come nobody helped Mikhail?"

The Headmaster blinked, as though taken aback by Harry all but ignoring his query. "There was no alert. It's true, I'd decided to seek you out, but it was sheer happenstance that I found you when I did. You should count yourself lucky. Now, back to your-"

"How come there wasn't any alert? The- the 'mara' is pretty dangerous… or, it was, anyway. And how were you able to see it? When it attacked Mikhail, the older students couldn't!"

"Mr. Haraldson," Karkaroff began, exhaling loudly. "I did not ask you to come here to provide a lesson on magical creatures. If you have additional questions, ask your professors."

"Um, alright, sir. Sorry."

The Headmaster was… kind of a jerk, Harry thought to himself.

"Very good." Karkaroff's annoyance seemed to ease and he leaned back in his seat. "I went back and looked through your application documents. I'm surprised to see your father chose to leave the section on your heritage blank. "

"Really?" That made sense, but it wasn't as though Harry had been the one to fill out the paperwork for him to attend Durmstrang.

"Yes. I'm sure you're aware that only children born from witches and wizards are allowed entrance to the Durmstrang Institute."

He hadn't been aware, but Harry didn't give it much thought either way. "Well, I'm obviously not muggleborn." He looked around the office, seeking out a chair. There weren't any. "Shouldn't this have all come up when you accepted me?"

"My deputy processed your application. He apparently met the Volga Lord while on sabbatical."

"Oh, alright." Neither his father nor Professor Nielsen ever mentioned that. "I'm glad we cleared that up. Was there anything else?"

Karkaroff gave a thin smile. "I'm sure you're eager to make-up the schoolwork you've missed. I won't keep you much longer." Harry nodded. "Speaking of your work, however…"

Was he going to scold Harry for not paying attention? Harry felt responsibility for that was at least shared; after all, if the lessons were interesting, he wouldn't daydream so much, would he? "Yes?"

"There have been some… unusual complaints from the faculty about your spellcasting."

His spellcasting? Harry was baffled; outside of transfiguration, he was typically one of the first few students to successfully cast during lessons. The first one lately, more so since coming back from winter break. "Sir?"

"You needn't be worried, Holden - may I call you Holden? - I don't imagine a first year is conducting dangerous magical experiments."

Who'd accused him of that? Harry was confused. "Okay."

"I only ask that you try harder to not upset your instructors. Now, I have one last request, then you may leave." Karkaroff reached into his desk, withdrawing an envelope and sliding it towards Harry. "Please ensure that your father receives this."

"Why don't you just mail it to him?

"I've had the distinct pleasure of meeting many important wizards in my life. I don't imagine that, for someone like the Volga Lord, correspondence from a humble headmaster like myself is unlikely to garner a response."

"Um… alright. I mean, yes sir." Harry picked up the envelope and tucked it into his robes. "Thanks again, for your help I mean." Karkaroff nodded, and Harry turned around and left, the doors opening before him and closing thereafter.

Maksim was waiting for him in the corridor. "Hey! What happened?"

"Not very much. He asked me to pass on a message to my father."

"Are you in trouble?"

Harry thought back to what the headmaster said about his spellcasting. "No, I don't think so. He said… he said some of the professors complained about, uh, 'dangerous magical experiments'. What do you think that means?"

Maksim shrugged. "We should ask Masha. Are you going to send your father a letter?"

"Yea. I'm over-due on sending an update about my health. Probably would get in worse trouble if I held this back."

"You don't need to worry about the updates. Masha covered for you."

Harry smiled, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. Durmstrang might be dull, the rules might be frustrating, but that didn't mean he wanted to go back to being followed around by guards or Mundungus every minute of the day.

It was good to have friends he could trust. "Do you think the library has any books about what a mara is?"

"-and then she said 'Yes, Mum', as though she agreed with everything I'd just said!"

Lily could feel, through her arm looped together with Andromeda's, the tension radiating from the other woman. "I don't understand. Wasn't she agreeing with you?"

"You don't know Nymphadora," Andromeda groaned. "She hasn't listened to a word I've said since she became a teenager! Not to mention, she's held on to this fanciful notion of becoming an auror at least as long. No, she's up to something, I'm certain about it!"

The two of them strolled through Diagon Alley, the streets quiet and empty in the early morning hour. Quiet, that is, except for the Lady Black's frequent and exhaustive rants about her rebellious daughter.

"Perhaps she's getting serious about her future, now that's she's on the verge of graduating?"

"If that were so, she'd have come up with an alternative to the DMLE, wouldn't she? Instead, she's dropped her ambitions in favour of… of what? Nine O.W.L.s, and she's content to be unemployed after school?"

"It's a tough age. Sometimes kids need a little time to figure themselves out."

"Ted and I didn't. It doesn't seem like you did. Even Sirius had a plan."

Andromeda had grown on Lily, and she'd come to genuinely appreciate the (slightly) older woman over the previous months. Still, the conflict between her and her daughter was rather tiresome, so Lily latched onto a potential topic change. "How is Sirius? Do you hear from him often?"

A long moment passed, and Lily feared Andromeda might simply ignore her diversion and continue complaining about Nymphadora. Thankfully, after several seconds, she answered, "He seems well. Very busy, as you might imagine. Our communication tends to be one-way, with me sending updates rather than the other way around."

She tried to imagine James' light-hearted best friend, gallivanting around Hanover. A surge of envy ran through Lily; perhaps Sirius had the right of it, escaping the madness of Britain - with all its troubles - for a calmer, more peaceful existence. "I'm sure there's not a barmaid in all of Germany that doesn't have a story to tell about him."

Another round of silence. Then, "Perhaps. He's more… well, he's more serious than he was, no pun intended. I sometimes wonder if he might have been more happy if he hadn't gone East."

Andromeda's voice was guarded, hesitant, though Lily couldn't see for what reason. It was no secret that Sirius fled the country, years back; even she'd been aware of it before he told her he'd decided to stay overseas. "Perhaps I should send him a letter. Just to check in."

"I wouldn't waste the effort. I sometimes wonder if he's hired staff to send out standard-issue replies to-" she cut herself off, excitement filling her words when she again spoke. "Lily, you're brilliant!"

"What? What do you mean?"

"That's it! You lovely, lovely woman!"

"Andi, I don't understand what you're talking about…"

"Nymphadora!"

"Oh." Lily tried to sound interested. "What about her?"

"Don't you see? She can go work for Sirius!"

She crinkled her eyebrows. "Work for him doing… what, exactly?"

But Andromeda was too far gone for explanations. "Let's get you back to your shop, dear, I've got letters to write!"

A bemused Lily could little more than follow along. It was good to have friends to talk with again, after all this time.

March 24, 1992

"You seem unhappy. What's wrong?"

Harry sighed, laying his head on his arms at the desk he sat at. "I want to quit the quidditch team."

"Isn't the season nearly over, anyway?" Maksim asked, somehow maintaining the conversation while he worked on an essay.

"The championship round is next weekend," Masha confirmed. "Why do you want to quit? Is it because you aren't in the starting rotation?"

'Yes' he thought, but aloud Harry said, "No. I just don't like it."

Krum was furious after he missed the first set of matches, following his encounter with the creatures in the forest and the mara inside the castle. The lingering weakness Harry suffered from his experience had grounded him for the matches the following weekend, leaving him permanently relegated to the backup position after that.

All that work, all those stupid, boring practices, all for nothing! What an utter waste of time!

"You seemed sure of the benefits joining the team would offer, before," Masha pointed out. "How will quitting now help you?"

Harry raised his head to look her in the eyes. "I… I don't know. It's not very fun. I don't like being on the team."

"Not everything can be fun. Sometimes, we have to do things we don't like to guarantee an outcome that we do."

He let out a dramatic sigh at that, and Maksim giggled quietly. "I guess."

"Have you heard back from your father regarding the headmaster's letter?"

"Not yet. But Father tends not to send a lot of letters while I'm at school. It's probably just grown-up stuff." Harry was antsy. He'd been sitting here for too long. "Maksim, can I borrow your notes for later? I don't think this essay's going to get finished tonight."

"Sure!" He passed over a neatly organised stack of parchment, which Harry tucked into his bag before wishing them both a goodnight and leaving to drop off his school bag in the dormitory Rasmussen was assigned that week.

Wandering the corridors for a bit, Harry found himself standing at the entrance hall, eyeing the doors leading outside. He hadn't ventured back into the forest since that night. It wasn't that he was scared, no, not at all. He just… hadn't wanted to. Plus, he never did fess up to his father what happened, which meant he no longer had an outer cloak to wear.

It just made sense to not go outdoors.

"Out for an evening stroll?" Harry jumped, startled at the sudden intrusion, whirling around to see Professor Nielsen standing behind him.

"Just… thinking."

"I heard about the mara's attack. Are you feeling better?"

"Yep! It was no big deal," Harry replied.

The Charms Professor smiled kindly at him. "Were you thinking about going outdoors?"

His brash confidence from earlier vanished. "Um… I was thinking about it, yea."

"It just so happens I was heading that way myself. Would you care to join me?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. You shouldn't go out there alone. There all kinds of things in the forest," he added quietly.

"Oh?" Nielsen cast a warming charm over Harry, then opened the doors and gestured for him to follow. "What sorts of things?"

The two of them walked, side-by-side, through the lingering snow, the wind doing its best to beat them back into the castle. There hadn't been a new snowfall in several weeks, but even though the days were gradually lengthening, spring's warmth was still a ways off.

"Are we going to see the Warden Tree?" Harry asked.

"That was my plan, yes. You know about that, do you?"

For a brief moment, Harry weighed how much to reveal, before deciding it hardly mattered. "I know it's dying."

Nielsen smiled again, not appearing worried or suspicious. "And how, pray tell, did you come to learn such a thing?"

Eavesdropping was considered impolite, wasn't it? "Just… I don't know. You hear things, now and again."

The professor laughed. "I suppose it's not a coincidence that you're raising this particular topic with me. I haven't been all that surreptitious about my feelings on it, have I?"

"You haven't been able to cure it? The Warden, I mean."

"I have not."

They arrived at the perimeter of the Warden's grove. Nielsen continued forward, while Harry lingered around the edges, unwilling to hazard the risk of approaching the school's guardian. Nielsen, like Maksim and the previous time Harry had seen him here, walked up to the tree with no issue.

"How is it?" he called out.

"You'd be able to see for yourself if you'd come a little closer," Nielsen replied, his words lighthearted despite his expression turning grave.

"I'm alright here," Harry said. "Has… has the rot spread?"

Nielsen didn't speak for a long while, pulling out his wand and casting a number of spells over the base of the trunk. Then, he reached into his robes, withdrawing a small object that he un-shrunk and placed near the roots, whispering an offering to the tree.

That task accomplished, he walked back to where Harry waited. "I think you should be honest with me, Mr. Haraldson. You're rather well-informed for a first year."

"I saw you, here with the headmaster last term. You said it was failing, so I came back on my own to investigate." He left off the ominous warning he'd received from the unknown voice.

"I see. Five points to Rasmussen," Nielsen said, "for your school spirit. As to your question, yes. The rot is spreading."

"If the Warden Tree fails… what then? What will happen?"

"It is already happening. The attack on you and the Galkin boy - the mara was only able to break into the school because the protections are so weakened. Who knows what else will find its way in, without the Warden to keep them at bay? This is a dangerous, unforgiving land, Mr. Haraldson."

Harry imagined an endless army of the small creatures that attacked him in the forest, flooding into the castle. He shivered. "Professor… that night, the night I was hurt. There was something else, not just a mara."

Nielsen eyed him, curiosity present in his voice. "Do tell. What was it?"

"It wasn't far from here. I was, er, taking a walk, and I encountered these… things. Some sort of creatures. They looked like children, but, I don't know. They weren't human."

"You were attacked in the forest? Did you tell the Headmaster?"

"It never came up, no." Mostly because he wasn't interested in listening, Harry thought.

"Show me."

Harry obediently walked his professor to the edge of the Warden's protection, the pits and trenches from his battle still present, scarring the floor of the forest. He pointed to where it happened, watching all the blood drain from Nielsen's face.

"I thought it was a little girl, at first, but it wasn't. They- they were horrible," Harry whispered, thinking back to the absolute terror of his near-miss.

"She tried to drag you down?" Harry nodded. "It sounds like an encounter with myling; Dark creatures, born from the spirits of children abandoned by their parents."

"Wait - you mean they actually were children?"

"I'm not surprised you're unfamiliar. Myling are not so common; leaving a child to die from exposure is no longer common practice the way it once was. But that is from where a myling comes. It roams the wilderness, calling out to travellers, to trap them in the graves they themselves were denied."

Harry was silent, taking slow, deep breaths, pushing away the memory of sinking into the ground. They had been trying to bury him!

"I'm curious, though," Nielsen said when Harry did not respond. "You keep saying 'they', plural."

"There was a- a horde of them. More than I could count."

Nielsen shook his head. "That- there's no way. Myling don't travel in packs."

"I'm not lying," Harry said quietly. "It really happened."

The professor walked closer, looking over the spot where they'd first swarmed Harry, seeing the huge depression in the dirt. There'd been a whole crowd of them, pulling him down…

"I don't understand. It shouldn't be… we're inside the protections. How did a whole group of myling penetrate the Warden's guard?"

Harry was confused. While he was standing inside the castle's protections, Nielsen had stepped out of them to examine the ground. "Professor, the boundaries are right here. Where I'm standing. It's the only way I was able to escape."

He withdrew his wand again, muttering several incantations. A light blue haze appeared, separating him from where Harry stood. "Gods above. This… it can't be!"

"What? What is it?"

Nielsen seemed shaken, stumbling back to where Harry stood. "The Tree's aura… it used to stretch for a half mile beyond where we stand." He turned back and looked over where Harry had very nearly met his end. "Its protection is shrinking."

"But… why? Why is this happening?" Harry asked. The adventure wasn't quite as enticing as it had been a few weeks prior; not after what happened to him. "What are we going to do?"

"These 'incursions' by Dark creatures, they've been increasing recently. It's not normal. It's almost as though… as though something is drawing them here. Something unnatural. Like there is a magnet at Durmstrang, pulling them in."

"What's changed, though? Why has it happened so suddenly?"

Nielsen stared at him for several seconds. "I don't know. But- you shouldn't worry, Mr. Haraldson. The Headmaster, as you no doubt are now aware, is an accomplished Dark Arts practitioner. I will press upon him the importance of setting up alternative warding, to hold back any more unwelcome visitors. Now come, let's get back to the castle."

Harry followed him, glancing back for one more look at where the myling had attacked. Barely visible through the canopy of the forest's trees, he could just make out a hint of the setting sun. The direction from which the Warden's protections were being beaten back.

The direction of an advancing evil.

'From the west', he remembered. With a repressed shiver that had nothing to do with the warming charm fading, he hurried after Professor Nielsen.

A/N: Ohhhh. What's changed at Durmstrang recently? What a mystery Harry's landed himself in!

That ties off the creature encounters for 1st year. A few more points to clear up, but Harry's not going to save the Warden as an 11 year old.

RE: Draco. I tried to think about a real reason why he'd be such a fanatical racist at such a young age. Ministry harassment was the best i could come up with. I doubt, realistically, any little kid would care much about politics, but when you frequently have to live through armed men coming to question your parents about their terrorist connections, I think it'd be pretty natural to develop a deep hatred of the govt/authority. Why *wouldn't* purebloods claim victimhood? I mean, nobody with grievances ever admits privilege.

Anyway, there's another project I've been itching to return to (not AMR, sorry, though I will work on that, too), so expect a surprise update to a forgotten story in the next week or so.

As always, please review if you've enjoyed my work!

~Frickles