A/N: Hullo! I've made a disc*rd server where I will post chapters in advance so I can get some preliminary feedback! This is the link: disc*rd * gg / CzDjZCEdwr

Also, once again, I appreciate the reviews greatly, thanks!

November 28, 1981

Igor Karkaroff's hands trembled as he struggled to open the letter. There, on the front of the letter, sat the Dark Lord's own insignia, entrusted to those of the most powerful inner council. Fearing for his life, Igor opened the letter.

Karkaroff,

The circle will not stand by as you reap the rewards of the Dark Lord's efforts. Your actions have led to the betrayal of many of the Lord's faithful followers. Remember this, you survive at the mercy of the dark lord.

You will utilise your power in Durmstrang to carry out a task in the future. This task will be of the utmost importance. You will gain power over the institute. This is the will of the dark lord.

~ P

Igor's brows came together as he struggled to understand the implications of the letter. He'd been granted refuge in Durmstrang as a professor following his revelations to the ministry. He had been expecting retribution by the Dark Lord's followers, not a task.

Igor knew, however, that this was a blessing. They would not kill him, they would simply use him some more. He was not a foolish man, he knew when to lower his head, lest the executioner cut it off alongside the heads of the Dark Lord's enemies.

September 28, 1990

Karkaroff,

The time has come. A boy by the name of Harry can be found in the Estonian town of Valga, you will have him retrieved. He believes his name to be Silas. Do not mention his true name, replace his name in the magical registers as Silas as well.

He will begin at Durmstrang a year early. Know this, our Lord's council will be most displeased if this boy is lost or greatly harmed. Ensure that this boy does not die. This boy is of great value to the Dark Lord's council. If any complications arise, contact Evan Rosier immediately.

~ P

Karkaroff scoffed, they dare threaten me in my own seat of power? Durmstrang is mine, they cannot touch me. It had been many years since Igor had last received instructions from the inner circle. Years in which the name of Voldemort was forgotten and memories of his power faded. Karkaroff, too, had gained much power and risen in the ranks to the headmaster's position at Durmstrang. The headmaster knew better than to take chances, however. He would follow the instructions, for now at least.

He would, however, inquire into the identity of this boy. If this boy was so valuable to the Dark Lord, Karkaroff knew he would enjoy having his own little fun with him.

September 30, 1990

Silas woke up with a start, he recognized this room. He was on a small uncomfortable cot in a dimly lit room. There was a small rectangular opening to his left at the top of the wall near the roof.

It took him a minute to realize that he was not, in fact, at the little makeshift holding cell at the orphanage, rather, he was at Durmstrang. He was a wizard. What that meant, he wasn't too sure of, he did know, however, that the large man yesterday had led him to this room and told him to sleep, that more would be discussed the next day.

All the room had for furniture was a small wooden table and chair at the opposite corner. There was also a small dresser to the left of the door. It was a pretty small room, small enough that he could reach out and grab the table from where he was sitting up in his cot. The room itself was made fully out of concrete. Bare walls and floor of the cold grey material.

Silas didn't know the time of the day, nothing in this bare spartan room indicated any time at all. The sunlight didn't help much either. Silas got out of the cot and moved towards the door. He was dressed in his usual clothes, his self-proclaimed uniform of the street. Sure they were torn here and there but they were good clothes and had not fallen apart on him even after many months of rigorous use. He quickly put on his shoes which he had left by the door the night before.

Silas was pleased to find that the room door was not locked, rather, it seemed as if the locking mechanism was on this side, he was in a secure room, to some extent. He opened the door and peeked outside. He was in a dimly lit corridor with 5 doors on both sides. Silas was surprised to find that there were flying candles stationed about every two meters that were the only source of light here.

Taking no chances he quietly shut the door behind him and began moving towards the exit. Again, he was confused to find his name written on the silver bar attached to the wooden door. Silas was all it said, none of the other doors had anything written on their bars. He stepped out of the wider corridor into another narrow one. At its end, he saw four other corridors also leading out to this semi-circular room. He saw an arch on the other side of the room and quickly made his way out of the area. A second arch was on the other side of the tunnel he was in. At its exit, he could see light.

"Oi, where do you think you're going?"

Silas jumped around and saw a boy in a deep red trench coat with a belt around his waist. Everything from his clothes to his posture screamed formal, rich, and powerful.

"I have no clue what I'm doing," Silas explained, "I'm new here. I got here last night."

"Silas?" the boy asked.

"That's me," Silas replied with a grin, offering his hand as a greeting.

The boy only looked down at his hand in disdain, his nose scrunched up as if he was looking at a dirty puppy come to hug his foot. Silas's smile faded away. He understood these kinds of people, the richer ones that'd look down on the kids in the orphanage or people like himself trying to survive on the street.

"Alright, come with me," he said, ignoring the hand and turning around and walking away.

"Those were the first-year residences. There are ten students to a cohort, so the ten rooms in your commons, and fifty to a legion, thus the five corridors in your legion commons. There are four legions for each year."

"So there's two hundred students in my year?" Silas asked.

The boy looked back at him, "Clearly…"

"How many years are there in Durmstrang?"

"Seven. So fourteen hundred students attend Durmstrang."

"Wow."

They stepped out of the corridor into a staircase.

"All first-year dormitories are on the second-floor level. There are four points of access to the staircases in Durmstrang, they are at the towers. The great hall is on the first floor, as is the library."

"Where are our classes?"

"They will be at different levels and different rooms depending on the professor. Know this, do not walk into any random room or touch any random sign around the school. Unless, of course, you wish to die a most gruesome death."

They went up the stairs.

"How will I speak to teachers and students who don't speak Estonian?"

The boy looked back at him once again, "I don't speak Estonian. The wards on Durmstrang allow you to speak with me and for me to understand you in my native language, and the same can be said for you."

"I see."

"You know the fact that I'm forced to explain this garbage to you makes me believe you're a mudblood," the boy spat out the last word rather angrily.

"What's that?"

"Do you have any magical parents, boy?"

"I was raised in an orphanage."

"Disgusting," the boy muttered, "This is truly an insult, to guide around a filthy mudblood. Your kind isn't supposed to be allowed here."

Silas only looked at the increasingly hostile boy with worry. He didn't know any magic and wouldn't know how to fight back against the boy if he was attacked.

"What year are you in?"

"I'm in my third year."

"Oh."

They arrived outside a large door when they left the staircase tower. That had been a lot of steps. The boy banged on the door three times.

"Headmaster! I have come with the boy!"

The door opened and the boy gestured for Silas to enter.

Silas entered the door and it closed behind him. He was in a rather luxurious office. In front of him sat a man with long hair and a moustache. He smiled a very eerie smile. This man was intimidating.

"Have a seat."

Silas took a seat in the chair that had suddenly been conjured in front of the headmaster's desk. The headmaster's room was very large and cluttered with what looked like prizes and medals and artifacts of great value. The man in front of him surely liked his wealth, or liked, at the very least, to display it openly.

"Silas, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Silas, I want to make certain things very clear to you," the headmaster began," My name is Igor Karkaroff. You will address me as Professor Karkaroff or sir. Silas, you are a muggleborn, that is something the people of this school do not look kindly upon."

Silas only gave him a confused stare.

"A muggle is someone without magic, a lesser person, do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, as such you will not receive any extra help to catch up, there will be no crutches. Know this, you are very lucky to be in the most powerful and esteemed magical school in all of Europe. We have only 200 seats each year to allot to thousands of applicants from around the world. The only reason you are here, Silas, is because of necessity by coincidence. Do you understand, stupid boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get lost," Karkaroff ordered.

Silas stood and left. Any hope he had of living a pleasant life with the support of this newfound magical power was now gone. He would again be at the bottom of society, the only difference was the location and the circumstances.

Silas looked around the now empty corridor and spotted his guide waiting for him by the staircase tower.

They proceeded down the steps and this time kept going beyond the floor they had entered from. They got off at the level below the one the first years lived at. The boy sped up and Silas had to run to catch up, at times. They were passing by an open courtyard when something seemed off to Silas. They were in a cold, desolate place, however, it seemed as if it was summer in the open corridor. There was no snow, only warmth and trees. Silas felt attracted to a pillar in the opening. Something was compelling him to move towards it. This was a very old pillar, it looked eroded and broken, yet it still stood. It supported nothing in particular but it looked very much like the Roman pillars Silas had seen sometimes in pictures and drawings in the library. There was a sign engraved on the pillar, a triangle with a circle inside, and a line cutting through it. Silas reached out for the sign.

"OI! HANDS OFF YOU DIMWIT!"

Silas jerked his hand back. The boy pulled him back from the pillar, hard.

"I'm sorry it j-"

"Kid I told you, not to touch the damn signs!"

He pushed Silas back into the corridor. This time the boy watched Silas closely until they reached their destination. He left Silas in front of a large pair of gates and told him not to move. The boy then gave him one last dirty look and left.

Silas stood there, waiting until suddenly the gates moved to opposite sides and slammed against the walls with a resounding boom. Inside, Silas saw the biggest hall he'd ever seen. It was absolutely gigantic. Seven long tables reached all the way to the end of the hall where steps elevated to a podium. There was yet another table there, this one's long side faced the entrance of the hall. A throne-like chair stood at the center behind the table.

"Cool isn't it?" a voice called out from behind him, "That's the great hall."

Silas turned back to see a tall man standing there. He wore long black wizard robes, or that's what Silas thought they were. He had long white hair that made him look as if he was an elderly lion, majestic in all his glory. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled down at Silas.

"My name is Professor Markov Vulchanova, and I have the supposed displeasure of escorting you today."

"Displeasure, sir?"

"Of course, Professor Karkaroff believes it to be a great insult to the teacher who has to escort the muggleborn student. Of course, I don't see it in the same way."

"I see, sir," Silas replied, unsure of how to respond to that.

"I teach magical combat here, at Durmstrang. Was your name, Silas, young man?"

"Yes, sir."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well, sir."

"Come now, Silas, we have many things to do today, and not much time. Take hold of my arm," the professor extended his arm for Silas to hold. Silas awkwardly held on. Suddenly he felt the same tugging and compressing sensation as when he first arrived at Durmstrang.

He fought the urge to puke all over the professor as they arrived at a brightly lit road. It was a road of cobblestone, surrounded on all sides by shops coloured in magically created lights. Again, it was fall but the alley was not cold, even if the roofs of the shops were covered in snow, it was warm within the alley. There was no snow on the ground, and the sun shone as if it was a summer's morning.

"Today, Silas, we shall purchase your school supplies and necessities," the professor explained happily as he set off towards a shop on the side with a large book on its sign, surrounded by words in a language he did not understand.

"Professor, how is it that I can understand you outside the school?"

"Good catch, Silas! Well done! I was wondering if you'd notice, and indeed, you have," he exclaimed, "You see, the secret is that I actually speak Estonian, and have been doing so since the beginning, young man."

"Oh, I see."

"Indeed," replied the professor as they entered the shop.

The professor rapidly spoke with the shopkeeper in a language he knew not. The shopkeeper was a small man, like a dwarf. He wore circular spectacles and had his hair combed back. He grunted as he stepped away from his spot at the front of the store and went to the back.

"Sir I don't have any money if we're here to purchase supplies."

"Oh no worries, Silas, that's covered by the school. They'll be loaning out the funds for you to purchase your supplies and you can pay it back when you're older."

"I see," Silas said, "where exactly are we, sir?"

"We're in Empiric Alley, my boy."

"Huh. Is this a magical place, sir?"

"Of course, wizards only. Emperic Alley is a concealed location in muggle Berlin, Silas. No need to concern yourself with the specifics."

"And sir, what was that giant fireplace behind us as we teleported here?"

"The term is apparation, Silas, not teleportation. Also, that was a fireplace connected to the floo network. Wizards don't always apparate everywhere, it is quite tiring. Rather, they use floo powder to move from a location with a fireplace to another connected to the same network. You'll learn more about it later."

"I see."

The duo continued on with their shopping. They stopped over at a shop where Silas was measured for his school uniform and a pair of casual clothing. The shop owner almost refused to serve him, from what Silas saw until the professor was able to convince her otherwise. His outfits clearly marked him as an outsider and as a muggleborn. They purchased a set of potion-making equipment from a shop. The professor procured a small bag in which they placed all his things. Silas was skeptical of its ability to hold all the things they'd bought, but from what he could see, the bag took items without expanding at all and retained its small size and shape. They then proceeded to a store where magical beasts of all kinds were kept.

As Silas went deeper into the store to pick out an owl, he suddenly heard a hiss.

"A new child to sssseeek out a fammiliarrr"

Silas immediately turned towards the sound. A snake was seemingly staring at him, coiled up within a cage. It was a small blood-red snake. It realized Silas was staring at him and lifted its head further.

"You can speak?" Silas asked.

"You can hear me, sssmall child?"

"Somehow I can, is that normal?"

"No, it isss a trait of power, young one."

"I see, I am somewhat new to this world."

"Take me with you, young one, you interessst me, I can protect you."

Silas paused for a moment. Then he thought, this world is crazy either way, might as well go with it.

"What isss your name, young one?"

"Silas"

"Very good, Sssilasss, I am Ssselene"

So it was a girl snake. He nodded and went back out to the front of the shop with the snake. The professor looked at him with curiosity but said nothing as he paid for the snake and took Silas back out to the alley. They picked up his clothes, four sets of school uniforms, two for winter formals and two for summer formals, and two sets of casual robes.

The professor took him to what he told would be the last shop they had to visit. It was a musty old shop. One large counter blocked off what looked like never-ending rows full of long rectangular boxes. The man behind the shop was old and everything about him reflected it. He had long grey hair and wrinkles set all over his face. He looked at Silas and with a look of understanding spoke to him in fluent Estonian.

"H- Silas, yes, I was expecting you."

Without waiting for a response, the man turned around and came back a few moments later with a box in his hand. He opened the box and offered the wand inside to Silas. He didn't wait a moment longer than for Silas to get his hands on the wand before he yanked it back and walked away again. This repeated for quite some time, all the old man would do is grunt and yank back the wand. After what felt like his fiftieth wand, he began feeling something in the one the old man had just put in his hands. The old man looked at him curiously before pulling this too out of his hands and walking back.

They had some encounters with a few more failed wands, each looking extremely different from the other. Finally, Silas picked up a wand the wandmaker offered him. He could feel an outburst of magic from the wand as pulses of power flooded the room. A shower of sparkles flew out from the tip of the wand.

"Yes, of course. How odd."

"What's odd, sir?"

"This wand," the man began, "It is one of the twelve wands I created when I had control of the elder."

"Thirteen inches, elder wood, nundu claw, supple. It takes a wizard of great power to control such a wand, Silas. I have worked with only one other wand of this wood. And none other of this core. It seems, Silas, that fate has marked you for great things."

Silas could only look back at the man with wide eyes.

"Now, 500 galleons, please."

This time Silas noticed the surprised look on his professor's face as he handed over a slip of paper rather than the money. Silas had noticed that the professor had paid great attention when the wandmaker showed him the wand, but he had shown greater surprise over the price of the wand.

They stepped out of the shop and Silas couldn't keep himself from asking, "Who was that, sir?"

"That was the wandmaker, Gregorovitch. His family has been making and selling wands in that shop there for dozens of generations, maybe more."

"Also, why were you surprised about the price, professor?"

The professor looked down on him questioningly, "You are very perceptive, Silas. Very perceptive, indeed."

Silas only looked back at the professor, who had not answered his question.

The professor laughed, "Yes, yes, I will answer. Gregorovitch usually charges twenty to fifty galleons for his wands, Silas, five hundred galleons is an obscene price. Your wand must be exceptionally rare. I had to pay him with a goblin bank slip, I didn't plan to be spending that much on this trip."

"I see."

"Silas, are you familiar with the adage, 'might makes right'?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want you to remember, Silas, in this world, magic makes might."

"Sir?"

"Silas you will be greatly disadvantaged at school. Your books are in a language you do not know, German. Your classmates will have experience with magic. Your professors will look down upon you for your blood status, as will your peers. Your battle will be an uphill one, Silas. Something I am all too familiar with. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, I hope to see you grow to attain the most of your great potential. Learn German, to begin with, go to the infirmary when you can and ask for a potion for language. They will be able to cater to you there. From there, you're on your own, Silas."

The professor smiled, and before Silas could reply, he had grabbed his arm and he felt the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of apparation.

When he opened his eyes again, the professor was gone, Silas stood outside the great hall, all alone.

oOoOo

After great confusion and a lot of stumbling around the castle, Silas found his room. He had realized that he was no longer one of the few people at the castle. Many more students had arrived and the halls were bustling with people running around. He had gotten many looks because of his clothing, and he had hurried back to his room to change into his clothing.

He took a quick shower in the common cohort bathroom at the end of the hall of their shared cohort commons. When Silas had changed and looked at himself, he looked as nice as the other students that were bustling about, his hair, though, was dishevelled and unkempt as always. When he went back to his room, he saw a sheet of parchment lying on his desk. Beside Serene's cage. Serene lay sleeping. On the parchment was his class timetable and a set of instructions to perform a spell at the bottom. Thankfully, it was written in Estonian this time.

Time Charm

Cast tempus while making a circular movement in the clockwise direction with your wand.

Silas had followed the instructions and suddenly, he felt as if he knew the time. He knew it was exactly 6:11 PM. Ecstatic over performing magic for the first time, he continued to read the informational parchment in front of him.

All the students in the school were to assemble in the great hall the next day at 8:00 AM, sharp. Silas decided to first unpack his things so he could access them at ease. On his bed, he found the bag with all his things, other than his clothes, which lay on the dresser. Beside the small bag was a note which read,

Silas,

Consider this bag a gift. It is enchanted with the necessary enchantments to make sure it retains its shape and store items.

Do not forget about the language potion.

~ Professor Vulchanova

Silas stuffed his wand in his pocket and set out for the infirmary after making sure that Serene was fine there on the table. He would begin his life anew, today, and he would finally be in complete control over it.

oOoOo

Silas had set out towards the infirmary at a respectable pace. Well, he had set out. The direction was a little bit iffy, but Silas had a plan. He had asked several people where the infirmary was, unfortunately, everyone around him was a first-year so no one knew where, or decided against helping him.

Luckily for him, he had run into a third-year who was heading the same way.

"So… third year huh."

The boy only grunted in response.

"What's your name?"

"Krum, Viktor Krum."

"I see, I'm Silas, nice to meet you, Viktor."

This made Viktor actually look back at him, "It is pureblood custom to use family names until friendship is established and you are on a first-name basis."

"Ah, I see, my apologies, Krum. Well, I have no last name so you can call me Silas either way."

"No last name?"

"Yeah, I was raised in an orphanage."

"So you're the mud- muggleborn they're all speaking about?"

"I suppose so, what exactly does mudblood mean?"

"It's a derogatory term for a muggleborn. It means your blood is sullying the pure blood of wizards."

"Ah, I see. My apologies, Krum."

"I don't care about blood."

"Oh, thanks."

Silas was somewhat pleased. At least everyone wasn't against him. Silas saw bright red off to the left in his peripheral vision. Suddenly he felt a strong blow against his shoulder as he was thrown towards the ground. When he stumbled back up he saw Krum had his wand out and had created what looked like an invisible magical barrier in front of him. Spells were hitting it and dissipating.

"KRUM! Stand down! We're only here to teach the mudblood a lesson," spat a voice Silas recognized. He was surprised to find the guide who had taken him around the school in the morning to be the one now attacking him viciously.

"No! You came at him while he was with me, fool."

"Krum you useless duffer, we'll finish you."

Krum held his ground, though. He dropped his barrier as he saw a spell coming at him and jumped to the side. Silas stood there, useless. He didn't know any spells so he only stood back, his wand lying limp in his hand and watched.

Krum was a good fighter, from what he could tell. He was successfully holding off the assailants and still shooting spells back at them. Krum yelled out an incantation as a yellow spell shot out and hit the guide directly in the chest. The boy collapsed to the ground. Seeing their leader hit the other third years picked him up and carried him away, the fight was over as quickly as it began.

"Uhh.. thanks," Silas offered.

Krum only grunted and kept on walking, as if nothing had happened.

"You don't know any spells, huh, you should learn some. Those will not be the first people to come after you."

"Yeah, again, thanks, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Viktor looked Silas up and down, "You heard of quidditch?"

"Uhhh, no? Should I know about quidditch?"

"No, but if you want to make it up to me you will have to do some work for me."

"Okay?"

"Good, I will talk to you later, then. Here is your infirmary," Viktor said. He simply continued walking off as Silas went into the infirmary.

oOoOo

Silas had gotten the language potion from the head matron in a quick manner. Apparently, lots of people came in on the first day for these potions so she had kept a great number of them in stock.

The matron, however, also noticed a cut on his shoulder and then noticed the huge bruise that was forming there. She had immediately forced him to a bed and forced him to drink a potion that had a smell so harsh that he had gagged while drinking it.

She let him off only after his bruise was gone and his cut had healed. In that sense, she seemed like a very caring individual, albeit a little scary.

On his way back Silas passed by another one of the marks he had seen earlier in the day. It was the same triangle with a circle inside, and a straight line running through it. Again, he felt strongly attracted to it. He reached out and touched it, just as he felt a strong pulse of what he could only assume was magic pushing out from it. The magic flowed through him, and for a minute he could almost see it pulsing outward from around the symbol. Fearing he'd broken something, Silas quickly pulled back his hand. He looked around and was grateful that no one had been there to see it.

As Silas walked away he, unfortunately, had missed something important. Behind him, a straight crack had appeared in the wall, almost hoping to be opened. However, as Silas entered the stairwell to go back down to the dorms from the fifth floor, the crack disappeared, as if it'd never been there before.

Silas went back towards his room. He picked up on the fact that people recognized him as the mudblood now. Whenever he made eye contact with someone they'd quickly avert their gaze. He knew he was going to be an outcast, even in this world. He remembered the words of the professor though. Magic makes might. If that was so, then he was about to be the most damned powerful wizard he could be.

Silas checked his schedule and found that History would be his first class the next day. He sat down on his bed and tentatively uncapped the flask he had been given the potion. Not wanting his fear to overcome him, Silas threw back his head and chugged down the potion. He'd expected to feel weird, sick, even. It was, after all, magic. Who knew what sorts of things the people of this crazy world had made. When it didn't come, Silas looked at his book.

It wasn't as if he saw the book in Estonian, rather, it was still in German. He could, however, understand the text, though. It read Historical Happenings of Magic. Silas found this to be very curious. How did these potions work where he could suddenly understand and read a language he had never heard of, before? Silas thought for a moment, he wanted to say "Wizard" in German.

As if he'd just remembered it, he blurted out, "Magier."

The word was in German, but for some reason, he knew what it meant. Pushing aside his curiosity to learn more about this particular potion and its effects, Silas decided to begin preparing. He moved to the desk and chair and opened up his history books. He would not lose. If he was good at anything, it was adapting. He would adapt and overcome.

Gellert Grindelwald's eyes shot open. He had felt a surge of magical power from his sign at Durmstrang. His time to return had come. The ground leapt up both in and around Nurmengard as the detachment of aurors who guarded the prison were suddenly bound by tendrils of earth. The aurors struggled as they came to the realization that the powerful wizard had evoked some form of powerful elemental magic to capture them all. He'd been holding back on them for all these years. The aurors who had treated him particularly poorly stilled. They were terrified of the possible retribution the Dark Lord could inflict upon them. Grindelwald's prison door opened and his binds fell apart.

Grindelwald had spent a great many years in Nurmengard. Not because he couldn't leave. No, he had stayed out of respect for Dumbledore. Grindelwald couldn't stand up to the man. He had stayed here, growing his powers and contemplated his actions. He no longer desired global conquest. He could care less what happened to the wizarding world. He had felt it, though, he had felt the power from within Durmstrang.

Grindelwald danced out of his prison. He smiled a huge smile as he traced his finger along the face of his least favourite guard. This man had mocked him for so many years. Oh, how he wished he could kill him. No! Grindelwald knew now was not the time for revenge.

He cackled in glee as he cast the imperius curse on the guard and freed him. He ordered him to write a letter to his dear old friend, Dumbledore. Grindelwald dictated the terms as he pranced around the obedient guard. He assured Dumbledore that he was a changed man. He wouldn't kill anyone. He only wanted to live a peaceful life. Grindelwald freed the guard of the curse, who immediately threw himself to the ground and begged for mercy. Grindelwald froze him in his place with a snap of his fingers. He withdrew the guard's wand from his holster.

With a lopsided grin set on his face, the greatest threat to wizards, ever, disapparated.