Welcome to Durmstrang
"Good morning and welcome to first year Charms," Professor Morozov said.
Once again, he stood before a room that had quieted at the sight of him. Today, he wore silk, silver robes and gleaming, snake skin boots.
"Charms, the subject, has been deemed 'soft.' I'm sure you've heard that description yourselves, yes? And I agree to an extent. Most charms don't require some of the behaviors, emotions, or actions demanded in transfiguration and combat magic. My agreement ends when one conflates soft with easy," Morozov said.
He had a deep baritone that was soothing to the ear. Something about him also managed to capture the attention of every student in the room. There were fifteen of them and all thirty eyes were on the professor.
"Potter, tell me what is demanded of you in Dark and defensive charms that isn't necessarily required in standard charms?"
Harry blinked. "A clear emotion in a clear mind."
"Harry Potter the Second…give me an example."
Harry opened his mouth. "The Patronus Charm needs a strong, happy emotion. One of the happiest you have…and I'm the fifth Harry Potter in total. Technically."
Harold had only been called 'Harry' when his siblings wanted to annoy him, but he still counted somewhat.
Someone snorted.
"Now Fifth, explain the difference between Transfiguration and Charms."
Harry sniffed at the moniker. "Transfiguration is the complete and permanent change of the appearance of a person or object. Charms is the change of an action or behavior of a person or object."
Morozov nodded. "Now distinguish between standard charms, Dark charms, and defensive and protective charms for me, Fifth."
Harry sighed. "Standard charms are just the regular charms that make things do. Dark charms are meant to annoy, hurt, or control. Defensive and protective charms are generally counter and preventative charms to dark charms."
"Excellent," Morozov said. He flicked his wand and variations of the definitions Harry had provided appeared on the blackboard behind him. "Can anyone name any other sub-branch of charms?"
Together they came up with a solid list. Harry didn't write anything down, though. He either knew the definition or, having spent the past five years with Henry, had the tools to figure it out on his own. Henry had literally given him a lexicon last year dedicated to defining magical terms.
"As you can see, charms make up the back-bone of magic. Charms encompasses a wide array of magic, so if you cannot understand charms you will have a very difficult time with magic."
He passed out books. When it landed in front of him, Harry picked it up. The Magic of Movement was a medium-sized, chapter book with a red hardcover and golden letters.
Harry flipped to the table of contents. It wasn't a charms book. No, the book focused on movement throughout magic. It even touched on poplar and aspen trees.
"You will read this book and on the second of September, you will hand me thirty-six to forty-eight inches on locomotive magic. Yes, Miss…"
There was a pause before, "Saxena."
"The rest of you will have to forgive me. There is only one face in here that is…legendary. Yes, Miss Saxena?"
"What would you like it to be about?"
Morozov hummed. "Locomotive magic." He turned around, but then paused to look back at them. "Right. I chose to teach first years this year. Ahem. Locomotive magic is an umbrella term for magical movement. As the book will show you, this includes everything from the Levitation Charm to phoenixes. So, what you will do is read this book and pick a topic to discuss within the purview of locomotive magic. So, Fifth, if I demanded an assignment on the magic of creatures within the realms of locomotive magic, how would you write it?"
Harry frowned. "I don't think that's a good topic."
"It isn't, but that isn't what I asked, is it?"
"No, sir. If it was a good topic, I'd pick like three or four creatures that can fly and then discuss how their parts are used to make other flying or moving magic."
Morozov stared an unimpressed Harry down.
When it was clear that Harry was unmoved, Morozov fully turned his back. "Books away, so I may send you another."
He did. These were called Theoretical Magic for the Junior Wizard.
"We will spend a lot of time on conceptual theory. Moan and groan as you may, but it won't change my mind. It may, however, delay when you begin your practical study in this class, so hurry up and turn to the first reading page."
The rest of their time in class was spent on reading the first chapters of the book, which were dedicated to differentiating between the branches of magic and the impact of size and weight on magic, respectively. They then, as a class, answered all the questions at the end of each chapter.
Harry couldn't remember ever being so bored in a classroom and he was glad when it ended. It had been a gruesome three hours.
"Yes, Mr…"
"Bjorklund. How long does this usually take to get through?" a lanky, blond boy asked.
Morozov, for some reason, glanced at Harry, who refused to entertain him. "It's been many, many years since I've taught first year charms and I never spent so much time on theory when I did. So I'll have to estimate it and say we should begin practical work in the fourth week of September or the first class in October."
"Why are you teaching it now?"
"Because someone I've heard about for years scored so high on their Charms exam they destroyed Kaiser's century long record. I needed to see what the fuss was about."
Again, Harry refused to entertain Morozov, but he wanted to laugh. When his things were all packed, he did raise his head to say, "Have a good day, sir."
But Harry found that Morozov wasn't an anomaly. Nor was he just taking the piss.
His next class was an hour and a half of Herbology taught by Professor Gagneux. They, another fifteen set of students, sat in a room full of greenery and flora. Much like the ice in Morozov's room, the grass and plants sprouted out of the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. There were even bees and other pollinating bugs in the room, but they didn't bother anyone except the plants.
After taking attendance, she said, "We will meet here every class day until the first class in October. Then we will meet in Greenhouse One for your three hour lessons. In this room, we will do theoretical work. The greenhouses are dedicated to practical work." Then she started as Morozov had. "Potter, define herbology."
Harry blinked at her. "Err…" Then he shook his head. "The study of the magical properties of plants and fungi."
"Not magical plants, but the magical properties of plants and fungi?" she said.
Harry paused. "Yes?"
"Is that a question?"
Amused, Harry shook his head. "No, it's the study of magical properties."
Gagneux nodded. "Excellent phrasing. Plants and fungi – even if they aren't magical themselves – still have something magical about them…"
She then had him define the difference between plant and fungi as well as describe the differences and similarities between them. She left him alone when she decided to go over common greenhouse tools and items. She bothered him again when she started on taxonomic rankings.
After lunch, he had two periods of Combat Magic. It was taught by a Professor Karkaroff in a room with fire dancing along the cracks in the stone. He was a tall, slender man with long, silver hair and a matching goatee covering a soft jaw.
"There are two components to this class: dueling and creatures. You will learn how to duel and you will learn how to navigate various creatures, everything from nuisances to outright violent beasts." He leaned against his desk. "I've been presented with the opportunity to lay the theoretical groundwork for first years, so I will take advantage of it."
The class groaned. Harry rolled his eyes. What, in Merlin's name, had been the point of Alexandria?
Karkaroff ignored their discontent. "Take out The Art of Dueling. Quick now. We are going to read it and many others cover to cover before we do any practical work, so get to it."
The book started with an overview of dueling then it zeroed in on protection. When they finished those chapters, they answered questions and handed them to Karkaroff. He then had them close their books and put them away. To their dismay, he sent out another called To Buff and Shield. It was solely dedicated to protective magic.
When class ended, Karkaroff said, "Finish reading chapter three by Thursday. Answer the questions at the end of chapters one through three and give them to me on Monday. Now go."
After dinner, Harry walked over to Diomedes, who'd been standing just outside the Refectory. Once upon him, Harry wished he'd been paying attention. Among the people Diomedes stood with was Egil.
Harry stamped down a sigh. "Hello." To Diomedes, he asked, "Do you know where the library is?"
"Do I look like your guide, half-blood?" Diomedes said. "Go find it yourself. Or find some friends to take you."
Harry mouthed 'half-blood' then nodded. He should've known Diomedes would act like that in front of Egil. Then and there, he decided he wouldn't speak to the boy again.
After his mind was made, he tried to walk forward, but another boy got in his way. This boy was tall and slim. He had black, wavy hair and heavy-lidded, dark eyes. He was handsome, too, with a square jaw and thin lips. Harry saw Black and Rosier in his face…much like he saw it in Cepheus', but he was neither a Black nor a Rosier.
"Excuse me, Lestrange."
"Did I ask you to address me, Potter?"
Harry snorted then turned only to find Egil standing there. He took a deep breath. "Excuse me."
Egil pushed Harry a little. "You haven't addressed me properly, Potter."
"I told you – "
Harry didn't look at Diomedes as he said, "Shut up, you oaf."
Egil pushed Harry again and this time with enough force to make Harry stumble backwards. "Is that any way to speak to someone?"
Harry had slipped his wand into his hand. Only the girl, standing just to the left of Lestrange, noticed in time. Unfortunately for her, confidence made her slow.
"Protego," Harry said as he slashed his wand.
The shield came into existence and with a little too much force. Whatever spell the girl sent rebounded and hit her. She screamed.
Harry didn't stop to marvel. Once Lestrange was safely behind the shield, Harry balled his fist. Egil moved to protect his stomach, but Harry aimed for his face. The resulting crunch made Harry happy.
"Potter!"
Harry spun around.
It was Karkaroff. Before Harry could do much beyond blink at him, Karkaroff grabbed him; snatched him up like a small child snatched a toy off the floor. His grip on Harry's wrist was unyielding and painful. He bared his teeth at Harry and he was close enough for Harry to smell the alcohol he'd had for dinner on his breath.
Harry jerked back. " Ugh."
He shook Harry a little then forced him to look at Egil, who was on the ground holding his face. Harry could see blood on his fingers. "Apologize and beg for forgiveness – "
Morozov rushed down the steps. Black and Riddle entered the corridor from the Refectory. Riddle turned to the girl on the floor.
"Beg. You purebloods – "
"Kar-kar-off," Morozov sang. "Prince Zoltan isn't here to…" He hit the shield and frowned. He looked at the bemused Lestrange then at the crying girl on the ground. He smirked at Harry then did away with the shield. "As I was saying, Prince Zoltan isn't here to see your efforts."
Karkaroff said something Morozov in Russian and Morozov dismissed it.
"You are concerned with the future and I wonder as to the lack of concern for the present," Morozov mused.
"We can call Zoltan today – "
Harry had had enough. "Get off me."
Morozov looked down at him. "Such authority in your tone." To Karkaroff, he said, "You may call Zoltan in the present. The boy will call Kaiser in response and I'm certain he will answer. To make matters more grim for you, he – Kaiser, that is – will not care and may even find amusement in what Barty Crouch does to you for bruising the child's wrist. Release him, Karkaroff. Now."
Karkaroff let him go with a push and Harry huffed.
Morozov stepped to Harry. "What were you doing? I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn't aim to antagonize them."
" I was trying to find the library and had asked Rosier, but apparently he's like Taurus and Cepheus – "
Diomedes started.
"…big and stupid and without any use."
Diomedes flushed and opened his mouth in outrage.
Someone behind Harry coughed and he knew it was Black.
"Shut. Up," Harry said before Diomedes could respond. He continued with, "His Highness and His Stooge wouldn't let me pass. Egil seems to have forgotten I'm not afraid to hit him back." Harry took a deep breath. "Can you tell me where the library is, please?"
"Walk all the way down the hall to the last corridor on the left. Walk down that corridor. You cannot miss it," Morozov said. "Did you cast the Shield Charm?"
Bemused, Harry said, "Yes?"
"Let's take a walk."
"What?"
Morozov pointed with his chin. "Walk with me, Fifth."
"I…" Harry sighed. "Alright."
Before walking away, Morozov turned back to Karkaroff. "If you wish to impress our liege, you should help his son off the floor and fix his face."
With that, he turned his back on the group then ushered Harry forward.
Students had gathered in the corridors. They'd been whispering amongst themselves. When Morozov took Harry and Riddle subsequently went on his way, the whispers became loud murmurs.
Harry looked behind him to see Karkaroff watching Riddle. He helped Egil off the floor then he, too, walked away.
" What?" someone said.
"Interesting, isn't it?" Morozov said in his ear.
Harry turned to Morozov, but didn't respond.
Morozov and Harry didn't speak again until they were past the doors to the world of ice.
When the doors were closed, Morozov said, "'Egil seems to have forgotten I'm not afraid to hit him.' He didn't forget. He overestimated his help and underestimated his target. Now the entire school will know he isn't untouchable. You'll be hailed a hero."
Harry scrunched up his face.
"But you and I aren't to discuss Egil and his foolishness. We're going to discuss you, I, and the future."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "The future?"
"I'm very familiar with Alexandra Thanos and I've kept myself abreast of you since I learned of the events of the eighty-six World Cup. You won tourneys above your age – and weight – class and almost every award at Alexandria. Future, Fifth. Do you intend to compete in the tournaments available to you here?"
Harry nodded. "Yes…"
"A Shield Charm is no impressive, advanced spell in the grand scheme of things, but you erected one and an impressive one after a summer of study. What do you think you and I can do by June?" He hummed. "We can try for you winning the Dueling Tournament in your second year."
Harry opened his mouth. "That sounds…impossible."
" Improbable, but a worthy goal nonetheless."
He took Harry to his office, which was decorated in pastel blue, white and silver. The snow falling all around them made it look like a winter wonderland.
Morozov called for a house-elf then biscuits and juice appeared on the table.
"Pryanik and kompot," Morozov informed him. "Enjoy," he said as he took a seat opposite Harry.
Harry took a biscuit.
"What other spells did you learn this summer, Fifth?"
"The General Counter Charm and I can do the Fortifier. I don't know if it's any good, though."
Morozov crossed his legs. "We will make certain it is."
"Why? Would you help me win the tourney?"
Morozov leaned forward. "You have had Gellert Grindelwald's attention since you were six. Albus Dumbledore feeds you every World Cup. Bartemius Crouch felt me out on your behalf. The future, Fifth. You stand to be an important yet curious part of it. Why wouldn't I throw my hat in?" He poured them glasses of juice. "How did Henry have you learn the Shield and Counter Charm?"
"Oh, I read big books on protection and defense. Err – I break it down from broad to specific."
Morozov nodded. "What were you going to the library for?
"To find a book on jinxes and counter-jinxes."
On a piece of parchment, Morozov wrote something on a parchment. A few somethings then he sent it to Harry.
"Read all three On the Offensive books then turn your attention to the books about jinxes. On the Offensive is detailed theory. The rest are practical. Go in the order I numbered them."
Harry nodded. "Thanks."
"Now, we will work on the Fortifier. Wand out."
"Hi, Harry."
Harry looked up and felt his eyes widen. A beautiful girl with curly, brown hair and blue eyes was staring at him.
She waved. "I'm Yordana Vulchanova."
Harry waved back.
She didn't say anything else, so Harry went back to his food.
More people spoke and introduced themselves to Harry that morning. Diomedes wasn't amongst the number of people who greeted him. His look of disdain turned sour when the people around them brought Harry into their conversation.
It was odd.
So when it was time for Potions, Harry went and did so in haste. His professor was a svelte Spaniard named Calderon. She had tanned skin, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes. She took attendance then said, "Good morning
"Morning, Professor," they chorused.
"Theoretical study will be the core of your studies in Potions, especially in your first three or fours years."
This caused a number of groans and sighs.
She cleared her throat. "However, you won't spend months on end in here studying theory before the practical. On single days we will focus on theory. For doubles, we will spend an hour on the ingredients of the potion of the day. As time goes on, we will spend less and less time on the ingredients as you will grow more and more familiar with them." She raised her eyebrows. "Deal?"
They nodded.
"Yes, Professor," some said.
"Today we will focus on common tools, procedures, and techniques, but, first, what is potions?"
Harry was pleased she left him alone. He wondered if that would carry over to the practical work they'd do on Friday.
Professor Yoon taught them History in another room full of grass, flowers, and pollinating bugs. She was a petite, North East Asian woman with brown hair and freckles across her cheeks.
"History here at Durmstrang is a global course. My job this year is teach a little ancient history," she said. "We will begin with the ancient wizards of Ethiopia."
Harry touched his forehead. For the second time in his life, he contemplated what it meant that he had spent at least an hour of almost everyday of that life at the knee of Bathilda Bagshot. The first time had been on his entrance exam when he had breezed through the majority of the questions and finished almost an hour early. That he had spent the last six years in Africa learning about ancient African wizards made it worse.
He was never so happy to leave a class.
Double Astronomy was after lunch in a room where frost covered grass and weeds grew with abandon. Professor Veen, a weedy Dutchman with brown hair and blue eyes, had been rather dogged in his questioning of Harry.
Harry had explained everything with minimal amendment from Veen. That pleased Harry, at least, but it was growing more and more irritating to be called on.
Wednesday brought his last, new class: Transfiguration. They were in a room that looked like a spacious mine. Rocks protruded out of the wall and floors and Harry could see minerals buried deep within the cracks.
That Wednesday, Professor Winter followed the rest of his colleagues by going over the theory. However, it was on Friday when Harry got to shine.
It started right after breakfast.
Harry was walking to the stone wolf when someone rammed into his shoulder. At first, Harry thought Egil was back for round three. When he looked up, however, it was an altogether different boy; a stocky, brown-haired boy with a block head and freckles.
When the boy raised his boot, Harry's eyes widened. In one motion, he rolled out of the way just in time and got onto his feet.
Harry, who knew all of two spells, had his wand in his hand. He didn't point it at the boy, though. He pointed it at the boy's bag.
"Depulso."
A thick book flew out of the bag and hit the boy in his face. Another book followed the first. And another came after that.
Harry didn't stay to admire his work. He tickled the wolf then took off for Calderon's classroom.
When he ran into the room, the few occupants inside looked at him. Calderon raised her eyebrows, but Harry ignored her as he took his seat.
A few of his classmates entered and smiled at him. Calderon looked at them then stared at Harry, who sighed.
When all his classmates had arrived, Calderon got to her feet.
With one last glance at Harry, she said, "Today we will begin practical work as promised but, first, we must go over the recipe. Parchment and utensils out."
The first potion they were to brew was the Forgetfulness Potion. It was a short recipe that centered around joberknoll feathers and valerian root. It was an easy enough recipe to understand. When they were finished, she sent them books on joberknoll's and told them about a two foot assignment.
After, they started their first brew.
It was an easy enough recipe in practice as well and Harry had a decent time with it. He imagined his time with it would've been easier had Calderon not proven he'd been right to question if she'd leave him alone during their practical work.
She did not.
"Why do you cut so slow, Potter?"
"I said dice, Potter, not hack."
"Potter, I hope your movements catch up to your wits soon."
"What does fine mean to you? There are chunks of root in your powder."
On and on this went until he was able to leave the room. He'd born it with more grace than he'd believed himself capable of.
After lunch was double Transfiguration.
"Today you have a simple task: turn a matchstick into a needle," Winter said. He waved his wand and each student then had a matchstick in front of them. "Can anyone explain why we begin as we do?"
Keïta raised her hand. "Matchsticks and needles are similar in size and weight. They're both small and light."
Winter inclined his head. "Yes. Anything else?"
Harry knew what Winter was after so, when it was clear he was the only one who could provide it, he raised his hand. "They have the same number of syllables and their coloring is similar as well."
When Winter blinked, Harry fought a grimace.
"Well…yes. I was after the coloring, but Potter is correct to mention the number of syllables. Words; their spelling, the syllables, the number of letters, the first letter matter to some degree in transfiguration. It doesn't hold true in every language, but depending on the country the spell was invented in, it does." Amused, he, to Harry, said, "Don't be annoying."
Harry felt his neck warm and shrugged. "I'm used to giving that kinda answer, but I'll try."
"Thank you." Winter snapped his fingers. "Get to work."
Harry looked at the matchstick in front of him for a long moment. He then raised his head to look around the room. All of his peers had their wands in their hands. Many shouted the incantation as they jabbed their wands. Others whispered. Harry heard a few pleas.
He turned his head and found Winter looking at him, but all he did was turn back to the matchstick.
How was he supposed to tackle this? He should've spoken to his father. He should've asked more about spellwork. He should've –
"Harry Potter's Guide to Becoming an Insufferable Wizard. What were the first and second steps?" Winter asked in Arabic.
Harry raised his eyes to find Winter standing beside him. "What?"
"Your list. The speech you made in May. What were the first and second steps?"
"I'm honored – "
Winter sighed. "What did I just say about your behavior?"
Harry grinned. "I don't lack confidence." He snorted. "I just don't know how to do transfiguration."
"How do you learn any spell, Potter?"
"No. I can do any charm. I've never done any transfiguration."
Winter nodded. "How do you do those charms? How do you go from being a novice to using one Banishing Charm to make several things move in succession rather than all at once?"
"Start small. And I wanted to do that, but I'm not sure I understand how I did that."
"The answer is in your list. You wanted to do that? How? Where did you establish that want?"
Harry shook his head. "In my mind? Oh." He took a deep breath. "Fine. Start small?" He pointed his wand at the matchstick. "Start small. Start simple. Transvertus."
Most of the matchstick went from pale beige to silver. A bit of the substance remained red, however.
He hesitated, but then said, "Finite?"
The matchstick went back to its original coloring. Harry paused to figure out why that worked. When he had it, he went back to his matchstick.
In ten minutes, the matchstick was all silver. He felt it to find it was still cardboard. He'd known that in his mind, but needed to confirm for his heart.
He spent the next twenty minutes turning it from silver to red and beige. When he felt confident in he action, he moved on to transforming the shape. The eye caused him a bit of trouble, though. He then spent another ten minutes changing it from shape to shape.
At last, Harry grew tired of the procedure. With one wave of his wand, he turned the matchstick into a needle.
He held it up to his eye. He flexed it a little bit. It was a needle as far as he could tell.
Winter came over and took it from him. He placed it on the table and Harry watched as he enlarged it. "There are pieces of cardboard here, but this is impressive." He turned it back into a matchstick. "Try it again."
He did. He tried again and again and again and again. By the end of class, he could transform a matchstick into a needle and a needle into a matchstick.
Winter smiled at the needle and matchstick before him. "Alright, Potter, your wand so far exceeds my expectations. Next class you will work on transforming multiple matchsticks at the same time."
