Susan exited the flames, flushed and out of breath.
"Hey," Hannah greeted, looking up from the journal. "How was it at Ernie's?"
"So fun! Lavender and Michael came over, too. We went down to the creek and swam, it was great." She plopped down onto the sofa next to her. "They said to tell you hi. What're you reading?"
"Something Miss Lily gave me. Here, take a look. Can you make anything of it?"
She passed the journal over to Susan, who opened it and flipped through the pages. "What language is this?"
"Thanks anyway." Hannah took it back, closing it and hugging it to her chest. "I guess… I guess it's not so easy to write when you can't see."
"Sorry."
Hannah sighed, rising to her feet. "Auntie's going to take us school shopping this afternoon. If you take a shower now, I'll do your hair before we go."
September 1, 1991
His father approached, hauling Harry's trunk behind him. "What are you looking at?"
"It doesn't look that deep," he said, gesturing to the waters of Lake Svetloyar. "The magic protecting Kitezh must be very powerful."
"Old magic tends to be," Sirius said with a smile, "Otherwise it wouldn't have lasted long enough to be considered 'old'."
Harry blinked, thinking that statement to be rather profound, but his father just laughed and tugged gently at his arm. "C'mon, there'll be time to ponder ancient mysteries later. You don't want to meet the other students?"
"I don't know," Harry said, eyeing the crowd waiting on the lakeshore, all of whom were staring at him and his father. Somewhat justifiably, he decided, given they were the only ones who'd arrived with a dozen mercenaries.
"Just go say hello. Some of them are probably leaving for the first time, too. And Harry," Sirius warned, "Don't forget the rules we agreed on."
Just under fifty students waited with their families on the banks of Lake Svetloyar, the surface above Kitezh making for the most secure pick-up point for Durmstrang's Russian students. Most of them shouldered packs, rather than trunks, and all were dressed in heavy cloaks despite the mild, late summer temperature.
On the one hand, Harry found himself quite content pondering the mysteries behind submerging an entire city. That way lay discovery and excitement, imagination and adventure. He was used to spending time in his own head, wondering about the possibilities around him.
But on the other, he'd longed for company, for friendship. Many years passed since he used to play with other children in the markets of Hanover, so long that he wasn't sure he still knew how to interact with others his own age. What if they didn't like him? What if they already had friends, and didn't need any more?
With an encouraging nod from Sirius, Harry stepped away from the lake and walked towards a family with an older girl and a boy around his age. "Hello," he greeted in common Slavonic. "Are you starting your first year as well?"
The boy nodded, his knuckles white around the straps of his pack. "Yes. I am Maksim Semonov. My sister, Masha, is beginning her final year."
Harry smiled brightly. This was going well! "I'm Holden Haraldson, but everyone calls me Harry."
This was part of the many rules his father set in exchange for allowing his attendance at Durmstrang. He could not be Harry Potter if he went to school. Since Durmstrang was part of the legacy Hilde left him, he'd asked his father what the male version of her name was.
Being Holden felt like a fitting tribute.
"Do you live in Kitezh?"
"No. We are from Olenek, far to the east. Do you live here?"
"Kinda, not too far away. What's it like in Olenek?"
Maksim's fingers relaxed, his expression eased. "Peaceful. Father sells fish to the Mudla, and-"
"Maksim." His sister's voice was firm, but not harsh. "Wait quietly."
The boy's face tightened once more, and he turned away. Harry hesitated, hoping they'd say something else, but they just stared at the lake's surface in silence. He returned to Sirius.
"They're probably just nervous," he said. "Don't take it personally. You'll have plenty of time to make friends once you're there."
"Yea, I know," Harry said. Still, it wasn't an encouraging start.
Before he could say anything else, a ship burst out of the water, announcing its arrival with a spray of foamy water that reached all the way to the shore. Atop the tallest of the three masts, a flag unfurled, waving in the breeze. Durmstrang's colours.
Harry grinned, his awkward encounter with Maksim forgotten. He had to find out more about this ship!
Lily stepped out of the Floo, pausing to brush her shoulders in an attempt to shake off any ash that clung to her robes, then extended her guide cane and started forward. With every step she took, more and more of the conversation and hubbub around her died away, to the point that the tap of her cane on the platform sounded deafening.
This is why she didn't go out, why she preferred interacting with the children that came into the bakery.
Her cane struck something, a wooden clunk identifying it most likely as a student's trunk.
"Sorry-" she started to say, but the trunk's rollers announced its movement, along with hushed words from a woman.
"Stay back, Stephen!"
Lily didn't say anything more, doing her best to instead focus on why she was here, on Hannah, and not on her public status as an enigmatic pariah. She understood why they treated her this way; squib births were a nightmare every witch feared. What's more, Lily having had magic and then mysteriously lost it made her all the more terrifying to the general public.
Her sacrifices combined to represent an embodiment of absolute terror to the average witch and wizard. Without an explanation for her condition, Lily bore the mark of an unknown pestilence, diseased and dangerous.
Maybe, she pondered, she should have listened to Sirius all those years ago. To withdraw from the magical world she no longer belonged to, return to her muggle roots and just…
"Miss Lily! You came!"
"Hello, sweetheart," she said warmly, listening to Hannah's rushed footsteps come to a halt in front of her, her familiar scent and the feel of her embrace chasing away her doubts. "Of course I came."
She was a Potter. It didn't matter if she still had magic or not, she belonged here. Sod anyone who thought otherwise.
There was a loud sucking sound, followed by the cacophony of the ship's hull slapping onto the water as it broke through the surface of a large lake. An older boy threw open the hatch, and the students streamed out onto the deck.
Twilight fell while they were in transit, the ship having made multiple stops throughout Eastern Europe to collect the returning students. Despite it not even being autumn, a chill wind blasted Harry in the face as he emerged from the hold. He pulled his robes tighter around himself, unprepared for the cold Scandinavian air. He no longer wondered why the other students had dressed in heavy cloaks and furs.
The ship sidled up alongside a clean and modern dock, where two men waited to catch the mooring lines tossed from the deck. Once it was secured, the students piled off in an orderly manner, the older students first and the younger students following.
"No son of Harald," someone whispered, and Harry spun around, looking at the surprised faces of the students behind him.
"What did you say?" he demanded, feeling unnerved at being talked about before he even set foot inside the school. No one spoke up. "Who said that?"
"Nobody said anything," a girl finally replied, and Harry reluctantly turned back and kept moving.
At the entrance to the docks was an archway, constructed of smooth marble. A single lamp swung from a chain at its apex, the dim light dancing over the words carved into the stone surface.
"Где то́нко - там и рвётся," Harry read aloud. It will snap where it's thinnest.
An enigmatic welcome in the best of atmospheres, but among the grim-faced and silent students, the message felt more than a little ominous.
The castle stood a half-mile from the docks, dark and forbidding. Precious few lights dotted its many windows, and despite rising only four stories off the ground, the oppressive darkness made it seem monolithic in the fading light of the sky.
Harry was shivering as they neared the entrance, the doors open and waiting. Once the last student came inside, the doors slowly closed on their own. They walked and walked, deep into the bowels of the castle, finally coming to a halt outside of a room that the older students filed into.
It was warmly lit, marking a noticeable change from the section of the school he'd been exposed to thus far. Narrow tables with bench seats lined the interior, and they were forced to squeeze together to fit, shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow. To call it a dining hall would be a vast overstatement; at minimum, the room was in no way designed to accommodate the number of students present.
At the far end of the room was a larger table, with about a dozen adults already seated. A tall man rose to his feet, his long black hair starkly contrasted with his white beard, clad in white robes lined with black fur.
"Welcome back for another year at the Durmstrang Institute. Please enjoy the feast." Food appeared on the tables, and the older students wasted no time waiting, immediately filling their plates and beginning to eat. "To those of you joining us for the first time, welcome. My name is Igor Karkaroff, and I am your headmaster.
"By gaining admission to Durmstrang, you follow in the footsteps of the purest, most noble and powerful witches and wizards Europe produced in the last nine centuries. Here, you will be pushed to your limits. You will be broken, shattered, and reforged into sorcerers of unparalleled potential. You will be tested, and many of you," he paused, staring at the smallest of the students. "Will be found wanting. Do not despair. It is within each of you to gain the power you need to succeed. The staff, and I myself, are here to help you attain that power."
Harry listened, stunned and confused. This wasn't at all what he expected, and nothing like what Hilde had told him.
"Enjoy your meals. Some of you, those few that are worthy, will return here tomorrow. For others, this may be the last time you eat in this room. Now," Karkaroff clapped his hands together. "Who among you is nachal'stvo?" Eleven older students rose from their seats, and Karkaroff spoke each of their names aloud. One of them was Masha Semonov, the sister of the boy he met outside Kitezh.
While he spoke, Harry furrowed his brow and mouthed the word the Headmaster said. It meant 'superior', but the definition was clearly something else here. He absentmindedly picked at his food, idly noting that it was of exceptional quality, easily rivalling the best meal he'd ever had.
The Headmaster finished listing the names and returned to the staff table. Deciding he'd get answers eventually, he looked around at the other students, seeking an opening to introduce himself. As he peered up and down the table, though, the total lack of any conversation practically slapped him in the face. No one was talking.
"Hi, are you new here, too?" he asked the boy seated across from him.
He glanced up from his plate, cool grey eyes meeting Harry's for a brief instant. "No." He kept eating.
A swarthy, dark haired girl next to him set her fork down and leaned forward. "You can talk later, once you're chosen. Better to not speak until then."
Harry had questions, but she'd already returned to her meal, pointedly ignoring him. Frowning, he turned his head and sought out the Semonovs, finding Masha and Maksim with empty plates in front of them, the girl silently mouthing words while Maksim leaned his head on her shoulder.
Thirty minutes after they entered, the food vanished, and they all followed the Headmaster back into the cold, dreary corridors of the castle, heading back the way they came. Just inside the entrance, they turned right and came upon a set of massive, ornate doors. On the wall above them was an engraved slogan, the carving worn and ancient compared to the one at the docks.
Не так стра́шен чёрт, как его́ малю́ют. The devil is not as scary as they draw him.
Unlike where they ate, this room was cavernous, huge and empty, with a capacity easily thrice that of the entire student body. Everyone but those who stood up during dinner was herded to the edges of the room, the professors forming a ring between them and the eleven volunteers.
Karkaroff raised his arm. "Begin!"
Spells immediately started flying. It was a disorganised, chaotic mess, nothing like Harry imagined a duel or fight to be. Some of them teamed up two or even three on one, cursing their allies in the back the moment their target went down. Others simply dodged and shielded, trying to wait out the initial frenzy of spellcasting. No one used nonviolent spells, and the students that fell bore bloody gashes and broken bones.
Masha wielded her wand with ferocity, scowling as she hurled spells at those around her, setting one student ablaze before whirling around to shield against a trio of jagged white streaks of lights. The student she'd struck was quickly immediately extinguished and magically dragged to the professors for healing.
There were only two remaining, Masha and a large, hulking brute. The other nine were all being treated for their injuries away from the final duel. When her opponent froze the stone floor beneath her, Masha stumbled and fell down. Her shield flickered as the larger boy's spells pounded against it.
Victory was written all over his face, when, from the floor, she whispered an incantation and fired off a spell black as night, striking him dead-center. It looked for a moment like there was no effect, then he turned grey, coughing up a mouthful of black, viscous fluid and collapsing to his knees.
"Penalty!" Karkaroff called out. "No lethal spells, Semonov! Disqualification!"
The Headmaster personally approached the fallen boy, chanting a long and complex incantation and circling his wand over his chest. Nearly a full minute went by, until suddenly the large boy gasped, sucking in a lungful of air. Harry belatedly realised he hadn't been breathing the entire time.
What was this? Where was he?!
Karkaroff helped the boy to his feet, raising one of his limp arms over his head. "Congratulations, Mr. Rasmussen. Durmstrang, honour your Superiors!"
The students roared their approval, clapping and stomping their feet. Besides Rasmussen, Karkaroff summoned Masha and the next four students who'd lasted the longest.
"But- Semonov cheated, sir! She broke the rules!" One of those who'd fallen earlier called out.
The Headmaster merely raised his eyebrows, turning to Masha. "You knew the Plague Curse was illegal, did you not?"
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"Why, then, did you use such a spell?"
Her response came without hesitation. "If I hadn't, I would have lost."
A slow smile spread across Karkaroff's lips. "Semonov chooses second."
There was a break while the remaining Superiors were healed, and the rest of the student body was lined up by year. Harry awkwardly stood at attention with the others, unsure of what was to come. Once everyone was in place, Karkaroff nodded to the six students.
"You may begin."
Rasmussen, voice still weak and raspy, spoke. "Krum."
A lanky boy with brutish features stepped forward, nodding crisply to Rasmussen as he moved to stand behind him.
Next, Masha called out, "Semonov." Maksim trotted over to her and the siblings embraced, her grim and serious expression softening as she held her little brother for a moment. He stood behind her, as Krum did for Rasmussen.
The boy who finished third made his choice, and so it went, each of the Superiors picking and choosing among the student body. It largely went according to year; with a few exceptions, all the seventh years were selected, then the sixth years, and so forth. Through it all, Harry stood silently, watching and waiting. Besides Maksim, not a single person from his year had been chosen.
Rasmussen's turn came again. A single student from the second year remained; other than her, it was only the first years left. Krum tapped Rasmussen, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. They both looked at Harry for a long moment, before Rasmussen said, "Golubev," and the second year girl hurried to the group behind him.
"Pass," said Masha, echoed by the next four, and Rasmussen himself when his turn came once more.
The Headmaster cleared his throat. "You know your rankings, you're dismissed to your dormitories. The standard rules apply." All of the students that were selected filed out of the auditorium, leaving the first years with the Headmaster. He examined them for a moment, then gestured for them to follow, speaking as they walked deep into the castle.
"What you just witnessed is how Durmstrang organises its students. The best and strongest prove their worth, and these champions then decide yours. None of you were chosen, but do not fret - tomorrow, you'll be given the opportunity to demonstrate your value to the Superiors. Once you are selected, you will be a part of a greater whole, an Assembly. Your Assembly are your allies, your compatriots. You will succeed or fail as a group. Every point you earn in class, every accolade you receive in dueling, every goal you score in quidditch adds up to a weekly ranking. The top-ranked Assembly receives many privileges, such as the right to eat dinner in the same hall that you did this evening. They are also permitted to stay in luxurious dormitories, accommodations fit for a palace."
Karkaroff came to a halt beside a door. "Because none of you were chosen, tonight you will sleep here. Starting tomorrow, these will be the lowest-ranked Assembly's quarters. I recommend each of you think hard about what you can offer. Gaining the right sort of attention from those older and stronger will likely determine the quality of your time at the Institute. Goodnight, children."
The doors opened to an interior courtyard, easily the size of quidditch pitch, in the center of the school. A narrow segment of the night sky was visible, the rest of the horizon blocked out by the high walls of the castle.
It was even colder than when he first left the ship, and Harry tucked his hands into his sleeves, drawing his robes closer around him in a vain attempt to stay warm. They had to sleep outside?
The first years all stood together, staring at the courtyard in dread and disbelief. One girl, the one who answered him on the docks, hesitantly asked, "Does anyone know the Warming Charm?"
Her answer came in the form of total silence.
Eventually, they broke apart in small groups sorted mostly by nationality - here, a group of a half-dozen Czechs; there, four Poles, all huddled together to share warmth.
But there were no English students.
"Zdravstvuyte," he greeted the group of Russian children that boarded alongside him at Kitezh. "This is crazy, isn't it?"
"Sleep somewhere else," one of the boys said. "We don't want you here."
"Why not?" One of the others murmured. "Let him stay!"
"You saw him at the lake. Those guards with him? He's the Volga Lord's son!" The other Russian students sharply inhaled. "My father's in prison because of him! I hope you freeze!"
Harry scrambled away from them, from their hostility, finding an empty section of the courtyard and curling up. He withdrew his wand, despite not knowing the Warming Charm, holding it tightly in his hands. Shivering violently, he waited for the sun to rise.
"-and at Hogwarts, your House is your family. When I call your name, step forward and place the Hat on your head."
The first years exchanged smiles, the purebloods' full of expectation and the muggleborns' full of anticipation.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
She squeezed Susan's hand, whispering to her, "I'll see you soon!" before walking as calmly as she was able to the stool. Professor McGonagall held out the Sorting Hat, and Hannah placed it on her head, the wide brim falling over her eyes.
Its announcement came immediately. "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Pulling the Hat off, she pranced over to the Badgers' table, greeting her new Housemates with a wide smile. Expectantly, she turned her eyes back to the Sorting, eager for the next name to be called.
"Bones, Susan!"
That's the benefit of having names so close together, she thought to herself, while the Hat slid down over Susan's eyes. Hufflepuff was in their blood, with both of Susan's parents and Hannah's father having come from that House. Hannah's mother was a Ravenclaw, so they'd shared some worry that she might end up there, but in the end it all worked out exactly as it should.
Susan continued to sit on the stool, the Hat covering half her face. What was taking so long? That mangy old hat needed to get on with it, all it had to do was just shout out-
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Hannah's jaw dropped. It couldn't be! Susan pulled the Hat off, handing it back to McGonagall and sending an anxious glance over to her.
"Go on, dear," McGonagall said, ushering her in the direction of the Lions.
This was all wrong! She and Susan were supposed to be together! Yet, for some reason, there was no correction, the mistake was allowed to stand, and Terry Boot stepped forward for his turn on the stool.
Susan turned around in her seat after accepting congratulations from her new Housemates, mouthing "I'm sorry" to her from across the Great Hall.
The Sorting continued, and when Blaise Zabini hopped off and headed for Slytherin, the Headmaster stood and said something. Hannah wasn't listening. Food appeared, and she numbly filled her plate.
How did this happen? They had a plan! There must be something wrong with that stupid Hat. That's probably why it took so long, maybe there was a problem with the enchantment or something like that! She stabbed at her roasted potatoes. Yes, that was it.
Megan Jones tried to talk to her, but Hannah wasn't able to do more than smile politely. She watched Susan, sandwiched between Neville and one of the Weasleys, chatting and laughing. Something simmered inside her, something like not but not quite resentment. Why wasn't she upset?
The meal drew to a close, prefects calling out for the first years to stay close. Before they'd even made it out the doors of the Great Hall, though, McGonagall's voice cut through the chatter.
"Miss Bones and Miss Abbott, please stay behind."
Hannah smiled for the first time since the Sorting, her suspicions having been proven correct. Waiting for them at the staff table was McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and the Headmaster. She linked up with Susan, and the two of them walked over together.
"Yes? There's been a mistake with the Sorting, hasn't there?"
"I'm afraid that's not why you're here," the Headmaster said softly, moving his hand to rest on a black envelope sitting on the table. "Please, take a seat."
"What is it?" Susan asked, a tremble in her voice. "What's wrong?"
"There was an attack. The Dark Mark was spotted over Sussex."
Hannah's knees wobbled, and Professor Sprout wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright. "But… we live in Sussex."
"The Ministry always heavily fortifies Kings Crossing and Hogsmeade to protect the students, and I'm afraid the Death Eaters may have exploited that to- to stage an attack on your aunt."
"She's alright, though, right?" Susan whispered.
Dumbledore pursed his lips, shaking his head in reply. "I'm sorry. You have my deepest condolences…"
Everything went bright, and she felt lightheaded. 'This can't be happening! Not again!'
Hannah sagged against Professor Sprout, the Headmaster's words fading away as she slipped into unconsciousness.
A/N: 4k words before author's note. NOTE: I based Lily not being able to write legibly off of a variety of Quora responses from people who are blind. Most said writing requires sight, regardless of when you lose your vision. I in no way intended to offend anyone who is visually impaired.
Durmstrang is IN-TENSE right? I asked myself what a 'pureblood' school run by a Death Eater would be like, and kept coming back to a might-makes-right free for all. The only fic I've read that explored Durmstrang in detail was LF74's TriWizard Tournament one (can't recall the title offhand), and canon gives almost no detail about it beyond it being 4 stories tall and having very little light. Harry's got a rough few days, but things settle down after that and it'll start to feel more like a school.
Zugrian and I were chatting about this, and he mentioned Sirius' decision to send Harry there and wondered about Karkaroff. Remember, Sirius sent a letter to the charms prof he met when he was with Hilde in chapter… 4(?), rather than receiving an official invite from the Headmaster. Since he met the prof before Karkaroff was hired, he had no way of knowing. Based off the HP wiki (which notes a lot of parents were upset at the way Karkaroff ran the school), I assume the new Headmaster made a LOT of changes to the way it operated.
I always felt like the Sorting Hat shortchanged a lot of students. Like in canon, it Sorted Draco with zero conversation. Why? What if he really, really wanted Ravenclaw? I feel like fanfics usually have long, drawn out convos with the Hat, so for this one I wanted Hannah to be denied that, to not get any choice or explanation. Hufflepuff-off-you-go!
Next chapter, Harry lands in an Assembly with some bumps and bruises. Hannah and Susan have to find a new home. The Blacks make an appearance, and we learn a little bit about the Death Eaters. Til then,
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles