A Deal with the Devil

Harry kicked off the new year with a visit to Godric's Hollow. He didn't go there often now, but he did try to visit his old governess at least twice a year and always around the Christmas holiday.

"How has Durmstrang treated you?" Mrs. Bagshot asked. "I admit, I was surprised when you said it in your letter. I was even more surprised when I discovered you spoke the truth."

Harry dipped his spoon into his soup, which was bright green in color. "It's alright. Better than expected. Can I ask you some questions?"

"Go on."

"Durmstrang – the interior – is the tree of life, right? Like the ground floor is Midgard, the lowest floor is Helheim, and the uppermost floor is Asgard, right?"

Mrs. Bagshot inclined her head. "Yes."

"Ok, but once you step outside the castle it's all Asgard, right? Like the entire area represents just Asgard?"

She nodded.

"So that means the surrounding areas are the other realms. The valley is Midgard and the mountains are literally Jotunheim?"

She nodded again. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"The bridge is cut off in the air at an awkward place. Err – it extends from Midgard all the way up to the teachers' floor; Asgard in the castle. So Grindelwald cut it off so no one could get to Heimdall's house." His eyes widened. "That means there are other rooms he's blocked. I wonder where Valhalla is?"

"Your mind is incredible," Mrs. Bagshot said. "I ask that you exercise caution. Don't push Gellert too much."

Harry nodded. "Fine, but I'm going to find something."

Mrs. Bagshot wasn't the only person Harry questioned that month. He did as Henry asked and almost immediately upon return to the castle.

A week after the second term began, Harry found himself in Morozov's office. It was the Deputy Headmaster's office on the uppermost floor. This one looked like a winter wonderland with gold trimming. It gave Harry ideas for when he had his house back and he would get that back.

Harry was lounging on the sofa fingering through a book called Cloak and Dagger. It was a book dedicated to all manners of magic that would benefit a spy. Revealing charms and objects, transformation spells and potions, invisibility spells and potions, and other pieces of magic of that nature. The Disillusionment Charm had caught his eye and he was reading about that in that moment. On the table was a cup of vantablack coffee and butter cookies.

After a deep breath, Harry raised his head to look at Morozov. He cleared his throat, then, in Arabic, asked, "Have you…have you ever seen any Brits around the castle or in the village?" Before Morozov could answer, he said, "Specifically, I mean people who don't have children in this school."

Morozov paused to stare at Harry. After a long, uncomfortable moment, he, also in Arabic, asked, "Why do you ask me that?"

"Because I was told to ask you."

Morozov sat up straight. "Dumbledore?"

"Henry."

"Why?"

So Harry told him all about the conversation he had with Corban and Maynard.

"I don't think Riddle's friends are as bright as he wants them to be," Morozov said when Harry finished. "Karkaroff is no one. However, as he is nothing of note, no one in Britain should know much of him unless a child of theirs attends this school. Fascinating, Fifth." He got to his feet and moved to sit right beside Harry on the sofa. "Riddle's friends haven't been here in months."

Harry exhaled. "Since Dumbledore got here?"

Morozov smiled. "Correct, but that could mean nothing…except Karkaroff. This is all so fascinating and peculiar. A little, English boy named Harry Potter and Karkaroff. Both at the center of something…insidious."

Harry licked his lips. "When did Karkaroff get here? Before or after Riddle?"

Morozov laughed low. "At the same time."

"Zoltan sent him?"

Morozov smiled . "He came up under Zoltan's Viceroyalty. He's a peasant from St. Petersburg, who managed to rise in the ranks."

Harry rubbed his forehead. "They should've just made up with you."

He grimaced when he realized what he'd said.

Morozov, however, laughed soft and low; that villainous laugh from the start of the year. "I may die in the end, but at least I will know there are two greater fools than me." He peered down at Harry. "Have you mentioned Karkaroff's behavior to Kaiser?"

"No. Have you?"

"Oh, no. I have long since learned my words fall in deaf ears. As has Zoltan. As has Dumbledore, I believe," Morozov responded. "You see, I'm bitter, Zoltan is jealous, and Dumbledore is mean. We can say nothing about Tom Riddle. Or about each other. However, you are a fresh pair of eyes and entirely independent. We cannot influence you to do or believe anything you don't want to. Of that we are all certain."

Harry sighed. "Is the bridge the best way to leave this school?"

"It's the only way, Fifth, and I'm not being smart. The bridge is the only way out of here. The problem is figuring out which direction you should go in."

Harry pointed to the floo. "To Hel. A shame I'll never see Heimdall's house." He ignored Morozov's amusement and asked, "What about Winter?"

"He has a good head on his shoulders. If you like Alex, you'll like him. They are young, impressionable fools no longer."

"And Regulus?"

Morozov eyed the wall through narrowed eyes. "A young fool eager to prove himself. On the strength of what his grandfathers used to be, he, himself, believes he's more than what he is. Unfortunately, he doesn't find himself amongst too many people who are afraid of or are beneath Black."

"Why is he here?"

"Excellent question. Maybe one day you'll be able to answer that for us."

Harry nodded. "Back to the first question: do you know any names?"

The list of names Morozov rattled off was near identical to the list of names Charlus had given Harry.

After a beat, Harry asked, "Who comes to see Regulus?"

"Only his grandfather. Arcturus."

"Oh."

How sad.

His second term went smoothly. Right up until the end that is. The school tournaments began in mid April. The first round of tournaments, which were mandatory, were between year mates.

He won the potions tourney with general ease. The same could be said for the first year dueling tournament.

"Bow."

Harry bowed before the boy on the opposite end of the platform. His opponent did the same. Their year mates on the other four platforms bowed as well.

They were in a dueling classroom, which had been enlarged to fit the long platforms. A few students and a couple professors sat in the room to watch.

Beep.

Beep.

Buzz!

Harry stepped forward at the buzzer. "Petrificus Totalus."

His opponent was the first person to hit the deck. Harry was the first to win his duel and the first to exit the room.

To the displeasure of the rest of his year, Harry defeated the majority of them just as quickly. Only Keïta and Munter were able to get a spell off. Neither were quick on their feet or proficient enough to go back and forth, however.

Harry had to admit he was disappointed.

"That was boring," Harry informed an amused Morozov when he finished off Keïta. "Can I duel you to see what it's really like?"

Winter laughed softly.

"What it's really like to lose, Fifth?" Morozov said. "Certainly you don't believe we can have a proper duel?"

Harry looked Morozov up and down and Morozov brought himself to his full height. Winter grinned in response.

"I think you're just slow enough in your great age that I can get one or two off," Harry assessed.

Morozov pointed to the door. "Get out."

Harry shrugged. "Fine. Enjoy the rest of your day, Professors."

However, when he turned to leave, he found Riddle upon him.

Harry took a step back. "Headmaster…I'd rather not."

Morozov made a noise of discontent and Winter snorted.

Riddle looked at all three then, to Harry, said, "You'd rather not try your hand at dueling upper years?"

Harry perked up. "Oh, well that's fine then."

Harry lasted a lot longer in the school wide dueling tournament than even he expected. Then again many of the older students hadn't been under the tutelage of one of the best professors in the building all year. Or ever.

The majority of the upper years lasted longer than his year mates against him. The longer he stayed in, the better his opponents became. However, most of them fell as well.

To his delight, he got a crack at Egil.

Harry stepped onto the platform and grinned at Egil, who kept his face impassive.

"Bow," Professor De Luca commanded.

At last, Harry bent his back before a Grindelwald in a sweeping bow.

Egil clenched his jaw and followed suit.

Beep.

Beep.

Buzz!

For the first time, Harry didn't sit behind a shield, which made Morozov shoot to his feet. He attacked Egil with a ferocity that made Dumbledore get to his.

At last, when Egil was at the edge of the platform, Harry said, "Expelliarmus!"

The wand popped out of his hand.

"Flipendo!"

The orange spell hit Egil dead center. He flew off the platform and hit the floor with a thump.

This was met with a long silence. That was until someone giggled. The majority of the hall followed suit by laughing and/or cheering themselves.

Harry took a bow then left the hall. To his amusement, both Dumbledore and Morozov were hot on his heels.

Not knowing Dumbledore was behind him, Morozov said, "Fifth, I don't appreciate the duplicity nor the passivity. You are to no longer hide behind a fucking shield."

Harry shrugged. "Fine."

Dumbledore walked around Morozov, but paused to look the other man up and down.

Morozov, at last, refused to be bullied. He rolled his eyes upward for a moment. When he lowered them, he said, "This moment was going to happen eventually. It's time for everyone to accept the meaning behind it."

"You think it'll be that easy?" Dumbledore mused

"No. Kaiser will realize the error he made, but it's too late," Morozov said. "Between Henry and Riddle, Potter will be even better next year."

Dumbledore hummed. "You've removed yourself from the equation."

"I've always known my place and my limitations," Morozov said lightly. He pointed at Harry. "You have your orders."

When Morozov was gone, Dumbledore said, "He also gave you a perfect assessment of the situation. Go home and improve. Enlist your grandfather and your uncles and work hard."

Harry saluted him. "Of course."

His success came to an end against a fourth year named Viktor Krum. Harry comforted himself with knowledge he'd made Krum earn the win. He'd been no easy out.

"Overpowered by curses," Morozov said. "You need to attempt to overcome that this summer and next fall. We'll reevaluate in December. Hopefully, Riddle allows you to attend Dreamtime…"

"That would be favoritism," Harry commented.

Morozov nodded as he said, "Which you are no stranger to."

Overall, he was top five in both school wide tournaments. The looks he received from the older students – even those from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons – pleased him.

"That's right," he said to Delphine when he saw her in the entrance hall. "Be concerned. Or are you afraid?"

Delphine curled her lip.

"Durmstrang stinks at Potions, so I won't concern myself too much there," Terence told Harry told Harry the next morning.

Many of the Durmstrang students looked at him in dismay.

Fleur sighed. "You should. Henry Potter and Alexandra Thanos are very good at Potions. He's been around both for almost six years." She stomped her foot. "We've already seen Helena and Louis. Mr. Charlus' grandson and his brother should be at Dreamtime this year. Ugh."

Terence groaned.

Harry was stuck between pride for Potter and distaste for his cousins and brother individually. However, when he noticed the discontent from the other Durmstrang students, he smiled.

After breakfast, he returned to his bedroom to find his school book glowing. Riddle had sent a request asking Harry to join him in his office later that afternoon.

Harry entered the office to find Riddle facing the window, watching the sun set.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes," Riddle said without turning around. "Take a seat."

Harry walked over to sit down on front of Riddle's desk then waited.

"That was some display on Friday."

Harry said nothing.

"Morozov made a suggestion that we should relax the rules this year. He said we should allow you a little experience of the competition in preparation for next year. Winter and Black also turned to me in hopes you would go to Dreamtime this year. Albus even questioned if I would allow it. In the end, I must say no," Riddle said.

Harry frowned, but shrugged. "That's fine."

"Understand, Potter, that if I could have my way, you would go," Riddle said.

Harry sat up. "What?"

"You embarrassed Egil Grindelwald so thoroughly his grandfather decided to interfere. You cannot win before he does and you cannot embarrass him on an international stage," Riddle said. "Your days beside Kaiser are numbered."

Harry snorted. "That can't be the real reason."

Riddle turned around at last. "You believe so?"

"Yes, I do." He touched his forehead to consider what it could be. Maybe it was Dumbledore. Or Morozov. Or Riddle himself. Maybe it was the combination. Or maybe… "Vulchanov. Zoltan." He blinked. "Did you – were the Acolytes nice to you when you were in his house?"

Riddle curled his lip. "They were courteous because good breeding demanded it."

"Polite to you, but outright hostile towards Zoltan, right?"

Riddle's face relaxed. "That means nothing. It is well established they loathe Zoltan."

Harry shook his head. "It means everything. Pardon me, but you're an orphaned half-blood with a muggle name and I'm Harry Potter. Those old bastards aren't supposed to be polite to us, especially when they're mean to Zoltan. Justified or not. I think Zoltan finally got to his father. Sorry."

Riddle looked amused. "Why are you apologizing to me, Potter?"

"Why did Ulrich Lestrange pull out a chair for me and why did Narcissa Malfoy invite me to Malfoy Manor? Your associates are as subtle as an elephant in a library," Harry said. "Corban and Maynard are just idiots."

Riddle and Harry stared at each other. If his days beside Grindelwald were numbered, it meant his days were numbered period. Harry decided then and there caution was of no use to him. He needed some protection. Dumbledore wouldn't be there next year and Morozov wasn't enough.

Riddle moved to sit in front of Harry then tilted his head. "What do you want?"

"To be left alone."

"Is that all? You don't yearn for fame or glory?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I seek peace and pleasure."

"And in the meantime?"

Harry shrugged. "That depends on what you want. I'll be happy to go in the house and ignore the rest of the world for the rest of my life."

"You wouldn't come to Dumbledore's aid?"

"No."

If there was any mercy to be found in the world, Dumbledore would come to his.

"You disappoint me, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He had no idea Riddle had reason to feel appointed.

"I had hoped you would be willing to do a little more than hide out," Riddle said.

Harry bit back a sigh. He supposed he deserved this. "If you tell me what you want, I'm sure we can come to an understanding."

Riddle stretched a pale hand over the desk. "The Acolytes never accepted me and I wasn't in a position to get to know their children. I suppose I had expectations that bordered on delusion. In my defense, the British and French had been far more accommodating."

Harry wondered why that was.

"Many of the children – the sons and daughters of Acolytes – are also fans of Zoltan. He's weaker than his father, but they, in turn, are weaker than theirs," Riddle said.

Harry nodded. "I know."

"Durmstrang has been an excellent gift. I've been able to reach and influence the grandchildren, but their grandparents are still alive. They're alive and they love them," Riddle spat.

Harry wondered if Riddle understood who he was talking to.

"I could never – cannot – relate to the feeling. You can," Riddle said. "You can relate to the children and you can reach the grandparents in ways to I never could. Morozov has never thought kindly of me," Riddle emphasized.

"So you want me to befriend the children like you did, so that I can get close to the grandparents?"

Riddle smiled. "'Like you did.' How did you reach that conclusion?"

"I asked Charlus how old everyone was after your associates showed your hand. You met them at school then you got their parents on your side. It's why Regulus is here," Harry said. "Will you tell me what you're after?"

"Glory."

Harry accepted the answer for the lie it was. He also accepted Riddle would hold him at arms' length. He wasn't…Dumbledore. Harry just managed to stop an eye roll at the implication.

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll do what you're asking. I'd love to see the East fall in my lifetime."

"And the West?"

"Isn't any of my business."

Riddle smiled at him. There was little kindness in it and a whole lot of malice. "I disagree. Barty Crouch made it all of your business."

Harry licked his lips. "You're asking for a lot."

"I'm demanding a lot as you've long been an important piece."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "And what do I get out of this?"

"You may have all the power you desire or all the peace you dream of," Riddle said, "but only if you give me the East and Barty Crouch."

Harry shook his head. "I'll give you the East and Dumbledore. Barty gets to keep his life."

"You think highly of yourself if you believe you can bring me Albus Dumbledore."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You think highly of me if you believe I can bring you Barty Crouch." After a beat, he said, "So?"

Riddle nodded then held out the hand on the desk. "Don't fail me, Harry."

Harry stretched his arm then grasped the hand. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he said, "Of course not, sir."