A/N: My apologies, this chapter was bound to be exposition heavy, I had to get these details down to begin the world building around Durmstrang as there's not much in canon! Also please excuse my huge absence, had some irl things to deal with! Again, I greatly appreciate any feedback!

October 1, 1990

Albus Dumbledore stood inside his Grand Warlock's quarters, concealed behind the grand chamber where wizarding laws were dictated for all of Magical Britain. He read over his letter once more.

Dear Albus,

I'm going to be leaving Nurmengard now. I think I've spent long enough here to satisfy everyone I've wronged. I am sorry our friendship went the way it did. From what I can tell from my captors, it seems you've had a busy time being the headmaster of a school. I think I'll try my hand at the same.

Do not worry, friend, I will do no more harm to those of this supposed magical world. I believe it is time that I too repent for my sins through the protection of the future. Much as you have done, yourself.

I hope you can settle down things for me, old friend. I imagine it will be incredibly difficult to do so. However, I have found what I have been looking for for so long. I think it's high time I fulfill my expectations as a teacher and pass on my knowledge. What do you think?

Your dear friend,

Gellert

PS. Nurmengard will disappear in three days, I imagine the aurors I've trapped will be freed in a day or two. I did not inflict any harm on those who have spent years tormenting me. I hope this is sufficient proof for my motives. I'll see you again soon.

Dumbledore really did not know what to make of the situation he had at hand. Where one Dark Lord disappeared, another reappeared, promising innocence and peace. He could only smile his grim smile and continue on, cleaning up after the mess of his friend, as he always had. It seems this semester would not allow him leeway to commit his freehanded pranks. Back to work.

oOoOo

"ORDER!"

The screaming and general chaos continued.

"I WILL HAVE ORDER FOR THE CHIEF WARLOCK AND SUPREME MUGWUMP!"

No one paid the herald any attention whatsoever. The most powerful dark lord in wizarding history was on the loose, and no one had any idea where he had gone. It wasn't enough that Grindelwald had singlehandedly incapacitated the entirety of Nurmengard's auror detachment and sunk the fortress into the ground. Oh no, he had done more, he had done the entire deed wandlessly and without uttering a single word. The man had used complex magic only theorised about in the highest of magical circles. Furthermore, he had cast such powerful wards that no one could even detect where Nurmengard stood.

The members of the Wizengamot were more than scared, they were terrified. The families of the light leaning factions feared retribution for their forefathers' opposition to the dark lord when he first stood. The families of the traditionally dark factions feared their negligence in serving the man to a greater extent. It was a messy thing, James knew. He, more than anyone, had most to fear the dark lord. Would he come for William next? Would he conquer magical Britain?

James Potter had moved quickly at the previous war's end to reinstate the Potter family's control over the light. He had originally wanted to go into the auror field along with his remaining friends, the marauders. However, Dumbledore had managed to plead him into a path in politics. Sirius too had assumed his title as Lord Black and took up a seat in the Wizengamot. From what they had learned of magical politics as children, they had seen the Wizengamot as a derelict and unsuccessful body. As such, all they had originally hoped to do was support Dumbledore in his legislative actions. To his surprise, albeit not a very humbling one, he had been able to ride the nation's wave to retake control of the government for the people.

Of course, the ministry was corrupted to the core, there was only so much the newly affluent Phoenix party could do. In the name of the creature after whom the war effort had been named, James had formed a government fit to overthrow the patriarchy of darkness that had doomed Britain for years. This lightlash, if you will, had allowed James, Dumbledore, and the other fervent supporters of the light to make sweeping changes across the ministry and the Wizengamot. They had expelled known death eaters like those of the Malfoys from the highest branch of the Wizengamot. For the sake of moderation and reconciliation, however, such families were still allowed to maintain an influential role in the Wizengamot

James had regretted, on so many occasions, giving in to Dumbledore's push to give those who had wronged the Isles a second chance. The known death eaters were imprisoned in Azkaban, no matter how many strings they pulled or how powerful they were. Merlin knew the rich fools like Lucius Malfoy had tried. Claimed they were under the imperius, how stupid did they think James was? The ones that remained, mainly wives, heirs, parents, were allowed to the Wizengamot. The dark leaning faction, who assumed the name of Merlin to title their faction, heckled and filibustered the Wizengamot every chance they got. To prevent the wrongdoings of the past, the Phoenix party had instituted a system where a law could only be passed if it received a two thirds majority, or remained in debate for a period of three weeks. Unfortunately this meant that the Merlin faction, alongside the support of the occasional non-aligned, was able to hold off on having a law passed for as long as possible. It required the support of the non-aligned, though, for which James was grateful. They had been more receptive to change. Far more, in fact. James respected Cyrus Greengrass. Cyrus was a man who supported the traditions and customs of the old wizarding bloodlines. As such, he tended to lean conservatively. However, it was known that Cyrus had refused to serve the Dark Lord. For this reason, the non-aligned were a respected faction and had gained a considerable amount of power. The power, if combined with that of the Merlin faction, was enough to hold back any law for the next three weeks. It frustrated James to great ends. Progress was frighteningly difficult to make in Magical Britain.

You win some you lose some, he supposed.

Dumbledore stepped out of the gate hidden in the corner of the Wizengamot chambers. James smiled at his mentor as he slowly and quietly made for the Chief Warlock's podium. The chambers were grand and shone in a way that promised magics were ever-present. Following the war and the change in the political order of things, the Wizengamot, under James's instructions, had commissioned a new, secure set of chambers.

At the center stood the Staff of Gandolfus. The first Warlock the world had seen. He had crafted fifty such artifacts of magical lore. They imbued the proceedings of the Wizengamot with magical legitimacy. Allowing the laws passed to be magically binding and for the record keeping and legitimizing of nobles, wizards, and muggles alike. Every magical nation that was worth a damn had one, otherwise their existence was not legitimized and any magical decree they made could be ignored. They could not enforce the existence of a trace or any other such regulatory measures, either. Such nations, tiny ones, like the Wizarding Bahamas, existed thanks to the diligence of its people and extensive magical policing.

The chambers were full of dozens of magical pods that seated one lord of a noble house and their companions. When the Chief Warlock recognized a speaker the staff would allow it to descend to the Wizengamot floor and allow them to be heard. This was Dumbledore's timeless contribution to the newly created Wizengamot a decade ago. Now the man stood in the Chiefe Warlock's pod and a hush finally fell over the senate.

As he spoke his pod descended to the center.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"The Staff of Gandolfus recognizes the Chief Warlock, Order of Merlin first class, Supreme Mugwump, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and WIzardry," a booming voice filled the room. The voice could not be easily compared to a person's. It was disembodied and neutral in every way possible.

"Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. I address you today following the news of the escape of the infamous Gellert Grindelwald. I understand there are many questions and many worries we will need to address, however, I ask for your patience and understanding."

"He could kill any of us!" a voice cried out.

Dumbledore only looked up at the person to whom it belonged. He did not respond to the Lord's statement. In order to continue talking he'd need Dumbledore's recognition so the staff wouldn't take action against him. Dumbledore only looked back at the noble with feigned disinterest.

"The Staff of Gandolfus does not recognize Tiberius of the Noble House of Nott."

The old man who had risen to talk looked down at the headmaster with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. He sat back down and Dumbledore continued.

"I have reason to believe that the return of Grindelwald does not pose a threat to the people of Britain, or those of the world."

With this statement, the wizengamot was engulfed in chaos once again. Dumbledore, for the seventh time that day, found himself exasperated with his old friend's actions. With a sigh he turned back to the politicians turned-toddlers.

oOoOo

Silas's first day at Durmstrang began with an odd start. He was in the magical world, after all. The dresser began screaming at him at sharp six in the morning. Silas had no clue how, seeing as the dresser had no visible mouth, or even face for that matter. He had overcome the awkwardness of talking with a clock and asked why he was awoken so early when his first class wasn't until nine.

"MANDATORY GREAT HALL MEETING AT SEVEN!" the dresser screamed.

"Okay, I got it, could you please keep it down a little?"

As if to spite him, the dresser screamed on, "ACKNOWLEDGEMENT RECEIVED!"

After a morning greeting like that, Silas no longer felt sleepy. He got up and grabbed a fresh change of clothes. He was about to change into them when he realized that he now had the privileges of living in a magical world. If he had a shower, he was going to use the shower.People on the street don't choose to be dirty, he thought,you work with what you have.

Fresh clothes and a towel in hand, Silas peeked outside of his room. He could hear some dressers still shrieking at their owners, their voices muffled through the thick stone walls. Silas made his way across the carpeted floor, hoping to get into the showers and out before anyone else. His silent trip was interrupted when a girl with long, almost white, hair stepped out of a room about two doors away from the bathroom.

She noticed Silas and looked at him curiously. She didn't acknowledge him as she moved towards the bathroom. Silas called out to stop her, seeing as the bathroom had clearly been a boy's bathroom when Silas had checked it out the previous night. However, he was stopped short by what would've baffled the boy only a day ago. The bathroom door leaped to the left and a new door materialized out of nowhere. The girl went into the new room and the door disappeared behind her.

Cautiously, Silas approached the door. He'd left his wand in his room, even if he had it, it wouldn't do him any good, either way, he didn't know any spells. When the door didn't jump away, Silas reached out and opened it. It looked the same way it had the night before. Maybe the girls bathroom was hidden away to guarantee them some more privacy, he thought. Or maybe the girls couldn't see the boys bathroom, either. While he had no clue how it worked, Silas stored it away somewhere in his mind to explore in the future. That is to say, he forgot about it three seconds into his shower.

As he was finishing, he could hear people rush into the bathroom. They had come in late and were rushing to get things done. Silas grabbed his things and went back to his room after changing. He stood in his red Durmstrang uniform. He wore a red trench coat that extended down to his thighs. At his waist he wore a leather belt. He wore a pair of brown trousers and black leather boots. The boots, although bulky, didn't seem to hinder his movement much. Silas hadn't had very much of a choice in what he'd worn before so he wasn't complaining. His clothes were fine, probably better than just fine. He thought he looked rather smart.

He grabbed what he needed and put it into the magical bag the professor had given him the other day. It was an ancient looking sack, it had a string at its opening that Silas could use to seal it off. The only thing was, it was made out of some scaly leather. It was tough and punching or hitting it actually hurt, unlike normal sacks. But somehow, it was also supple and flexible. Silas didn't know how it worked or how valuable it was but he was sure that it was of a high quality even by wizard standards.

Silas had no clue how to get to the assembly hall. He'd been there with the professor and vaguely knew where to go but he wasn't about to risk running into some magical danger and dying. So he followed the largest clump of students he could find, hoping it'd take him to the great hall. Silas realized if he kept his head down he could often go by unrecognized and dodge the hateful looks people threw at him. It wasn't as if he was afraid. He'd had plenty of experience in his life taking and ignoring the hate people threw at him. He'd grown up realizing that all he could really do was to smile and move on. So that's what he did.

The hall was even more majestic than it was the day before. Large balls of fire suspended in the air above lit up the tables full of hundreds of students. The seven tables spread evenly across the hall now were split into smaller tables, maintaining the same general shape. Silas could tell that the tables were ordered in ascending years. The youngest-looking students were sitting at the table furthest to his left.

Silas had no clue what table he was supposed to sit at in the first year row. He saw, however, the hair of the white-haired girl from his cohort. He slipped into a seat two spots away from her. She didn't look away from the book she was reading. Most of the seats in their cohort were unoccupied, as were the majority of the seats in the hall.

"Tempus", Silas whispered.6:58 AM

To think, Silas was just two minutes early and people still hadn't shown up.

"Hey," Silas said, greeting the girl with a smile as he sat down. She didn't acknowledge him and only continued reading. The girls worse a very similar uniform except they wore a skirt instead of the trousers Silas wore.

Silas's smile faded as he looked around apprehensively. He watched the giant magical clock overlooking the hall at the teacher's table. The time passed seven, and yet, nothing happened. Students walked in late with airs of superiority around them. It was funny, to Silas at least, how they all seemed to act as if they owned the place. All of them couldn't own it, though, could they? Silas noticed that the students who had come earlier looked a little bit uncomfortable, at the first-year table, at least. The more arrogant seeming students were the ones filing in later. Was it fashionable to be late here?

As his cohort's table began filling up, more and more of its members shot Silas dirty looks. People tried to sit as far from him as they possibly could. Not that Silas was complaining, he'd rather have people who disliked him sit further away than closer. As for the isolation, he was used to it. There was a lot worse out there on the streets than feeling lonely at breakfast.

A boy sat to his right, seemingly oblivious to the looks people were giving them. Silas saw this as an invitation to begin a conversation and turned towards him.

"Hey," Silas offered.

"Hullo."

"My name's Silas."

"I see, mine is Oswald, Simon Oswald."

"That's pretty cool."

"What's your surname?"

"You don't know about me?" Silas replied incredulously. He could've sworn with the way he was being recognized that there was some magical sign on him or something. For some reason, the kid blanched at his response.

"Umm, not really, I'm sorry. I'm only a trialed half-blood, I didn't mean to cause any disrespect."

"Why would that cause any disrespect?" Silas replied.

"Uhhhh, because I couldn't recognize your noble lineage?" the kid replied, unsure. He was getting increasingly confused. Silas realized that he must've mistaken him for some conceited pureblood that had gotten offended over not being recognized.

"No, you're perfectly fine. I'm actually a muggleborn orphan. I have no surname."

Silas thought this would calm Simon down but he was dead wrong. Simon tensed up even more. Silas realized that he had just ousted himself as a social outcast and revealed that by being near him, Simon was risking being isolated too.

"If you want to go sit somewhere else now, I'm alright with it, don't worry."

Simon sat there, thinking. He finally decided to refuse Silas's offer. Silas didn't know why he did it, but he was glad to finally talk to someone. Krum had been cool and all, but the guy was pretty intimidating. Simon, though, was like a loose cannon. He just kept going on and on, ignoring the pointed looks people were shooting their way.

Simon was from Wales. His family didn't have much history with Durmstrang and he was a half-blood, which, according to him, should've put his acceptances chances normally to zero. Simon had trialed in, however. Apparently if you think you have low chances of acceptance into Durmstrang, you're given a shot at a magical test aimed at finding out what your magical "potential is". What that basically meant is that the richer half-bloods with questionable historical value paid large bribes to ensure their children could get in. Simon, on the other hand, had actually been one of the few who'd gotten in based on true magical potential. Simon had demonstrated accidental magic during the tests in a rather controlled manner. Although he couldn't replicate it. It had been enough to get him into the school.

Silas realized quickly that Simon would just keep on talking forever if he could. He just kept blabbering on, all in one breath, Silas didn't object, though. He was getting some useful and interesting information from Simon. Apparently, there was a British magical school that Simon's family had attended for generations. They had insisted on trying for Durmstrang because it offered a larger variety and better quality of courses than the British 'Hogwarts'. When he'd gotten accepted he'd agreed immediately in his search for greater knowledge.

Simon had just begun talking about his thoughts on goblin rebellions in Britain when he was cut off by a loud booming sound that enveloped the entire hall. Silas looked around and found that most of the seats in the hall were filled. The yelling and chattering had stopped. Half of the first years were looking around for the source of the noise, while the other half stared expectantly towards the teacher's table, which was still empty. Silas realized that the older students weren't looking that way at all. Rather, they were looking at the closed gates to the great hall.

When did that happen?

"Professor Markov Vulchanova, Combat, Lebon Laureate, Order of the Cross, first class!"

The bright eyed professor who had guided Silas through Empiric Alley levitated through the door. He flew a small distance above the ground and graced the great hall with a large beaming smile. When his eyes met Sirius's they twinkled a bright green. Silas's own eyes widened in shock as he saw the professor's eye colour change from green to orange. They looked nothing like the bright blue eyes he'd seen the day before.

"Oh… that's unexpected," Simon whispered.

"What is?"

"Well from what I've heard, the professors that enter first are the lowest ranking professors."

Silas thought back to the professor's comments about the others not wanting to accompany the 'mudblood'.

"So?"

"Well, I read in the 'Archives of Durmstrang'that Professor Vulchanova is a direct descendant of THE Headmaster Vulchanova that founded Durmstrang."

Silas considered this as he watched the professor sit down at the far left of the professor's table. Before he could comment another name was announced.

"Professor Ivan Andonov, charms!"

A grump, short, and rather dwarfish looking man hobbled and stomped from the gates to the table. He sat on the opposite side of Professor Vulchanova to the right. Silas could hear snickering from around the hall, it seems people weren't too discreet in their displays of disrespect towards the charms professor.

"Professor Serena Milner, spell creation!"

At this, Silas's ears perked up. Spell creation? You could actually make spells to do whatever you wanted to? From the little reading he had done the night before he had found that in order to effectively and safely use magic, at least for beginners, one needed to follow instructions closely to avoid accidents and dangerous reactions. The fact that you could actually make spells fascinated the ten year old. A majestic and noble looking woman marched up to the table. She seemed old, but for some reason Silas couldn't tell how old. It seemed as if she was extraordinarily old, but at the same time she felt young. It was fascinating.

"Professor Loretta Vonhauer, transfiguration, Noether Lecturer, International Order of Gandolfus, third class!

A short asian woman swiftly moved across the hall and assumed a seat on the table. The professors kept filing in, some with long lists of accolades and honors, others with none.

"Professor Kostadin Agapov, history!"

"Professor Filibar Thompson, potions, receiver of Daily Potioneer Magazine's Potioneer of the Year award!"

"Professor Katya Ivankov, runes, chairperson of the international board of runescaping!"

"Professor Silvan Barristol, magical creatures!"

"Professor Beverley Newman, arithmancy!"

"Professor Sergei Korolev, dark arts!"

Many other professors' names were called before Silas heard the name he recognized as the headmaster's.

"Professor Igor Karkaroff, headmaster!"

The headmaster who had threatened Silas in his office marched up to the professor's table and took his seat at the center, in front of the throne. Silas was curious as to why the man didn't sit on the throne, he turned towards Simon to ask.

Simon preempted the answer, "It's cursed," Silas raised a questioning eyebrow, "by the Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald."

Simon furrowed his brows in concentration. Was this the same guy who put the supposedly dangerous symbols around the school? Before he could ask Simon again, Karkaroff began talking.

"Wizards and Witches, welcome to Durmstrang. To those who have been with us before, I congratulate you on having the merit to continue your studies in these illustrious halls!"

"Merit? More like weal-", Simon's whispering was cut off by a spark falling onto his arm from the balls of fire above. He held back his noise from the pain and looked around, fearing another attack from an unexpected source.

Karkaroff continued, "To the first years, remember this. Your position and your rank are not guaranteed here. Do well and you will be allowed the privilege of continuing at our distinguished institution for magic. Fail to meet expectations and you will soon find yourselves at a far lesser school, burdened with the failure of your past. Know that even your families may refuse to recognize you for falling from such heights."

"That being said, we wish those of you who have the potential to carry the inheritance of our history a very inspiring education. Welcome to Durmstrang, pupils!"

With that, Karkaroff slammed his hand down on his table and food burst into existence in front of the students' eyes. Silas' eyes gleamed as he stared down at the richness of the food before him. There was everything anyone could've wanted for from pancakes to exotic food filling silver and gold platters. However, Silas stopped himself from tearing into the food in front of him, seeing as no one else had begun. He saw that they were, for the most part, staring expectantly up to the teachers table. Some first years who had unknowingly attacked the food in front of them were in turn assaulted by the fires from above. When everyone had stopped moving, Karkaroff cleared his throat and Silas looked his way. There he saw the headmaster take a slow bite out of the meal that was on his plate. One by one the professors took their turns, slowly moving down the hierarchy until Professor Vulchanova took a bite of his own food.

Almost immediately the older students started reaching for their food. Silas noticed that the ones who put on airs of superiority did so in a controlled fashion while those who sat alone cared not for the sophistication their peers demonstrated.

While Silas didn't have the education of the wealthy or the airs of nobility he did know how to copy others. He silently watched how the white haired girl was eating her food and attempted to copy her in that aspect. Simon saw him doing so out of the corner of his eye and moved to copy the girl as well.

When Silas was absolutely stuffed and couldn't risk putting another thing in his mouth out of fear of losing his entire breakfast on the table he painfully swivelled off the bench and got up. Many students had already finished their meals and had left by this time, but Simon remained. Silas saw that the girl had already left and felt a bit anxious. He was hoping to follow her to class as he didn't know the way. It seemed Durmstrang really threw you out on your own and expected you to find your own way around, or to be told the way by a friend or family member that was an upperclassman.

Simon got up and assuaged his fears, "I've already memorized the maps of Durmstrang for the most part, or the ones that were given to us before term began. I know the way around, so we don't have to worry about that.

"Lead the way, then, I suppose."

Simon led Silas out of the hall and along the stream of students. A quicktempustold Silas that it was 8:10 AM. Unsure of what they were doing so early when class wasn't to begin till nine, he asked Simon.

"Well, it'll take us quite a bit of time just to get there, and I suppose the professor will expect us to prepare for the class afterwards."

Silas didn't really understand why it'd take them that long just to get to class, but after walking for what seemed like forever he began to understand. They walked through a number of corridors, up and down staircases, and through a number of warm openings where vegetation and plants grew in the clearings.

"Why's this school so big? What's the point of walking for this long across empty corridors and places to just get to class?"

"Grindelwald's curses led to most of the parts of the castle being inaccessible or only accessible at great peril, so I'm taking us through the areas which should be fine," Silas thanked fate for letting him meet Simon as he'd have no clue how to get to to class otherwise.

Simon carried on, "They say that Durmstrang used to have 6000 students before Grindelwald, but since most of the school is now unusable and cursed, they've had to curtail the numbers and keep the school highly selective so they can maintain classes and quality."

"It's led to a lot of schools popping up all over eastern europe because of it, so I guess they've benefited from Grindelwald's curses in a way."

When they finally arrived at class they found that Simon's sharp memory had allowed them to get through the safe zones and get to class before many of the other members of their cohort. Silas noticed with a pang of disappointment that the girl with the white hair had beaten them in getting here.

"Tempus,"8:52 AM.

So they hadn't gotten here very early at all. Before Silas could continue into the class to find a seat of his own, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder which held him in place with an iron grip.

"There will be no spells used in my classroom, student," came the voice of Professor Agapov, who Silas recognized from earlier. The professor forced Silas to turn around, moving him around as if he were a doll of plastic.

"My apologies, professor."

"Use German, boy, do you not respect any of the rules of this school?"

"I am so sorry professor, it was not my intention to mean disrespect," Silas pushed out, willing magic to let the words come out in german. To his surprise and relief, they did.

"Hm," the professor let go of Silas' shoulder and returned to his seat at the front of the class.

Simon pushed Silas forward again and into a seat. There were ten tables in the class, each had two chairs, they were arranged in a row of five columns. The tables were arranged in a semi circle facing the front of the classroom. There were three people already in the class, the white haired girl sat at the table in the centre of the room, the other two boys sat at the table on the right of the girl. Simon and Silas quietly took their seats at the table to the girl's left.

Above the professor's head at the center of the class's front wall was an ancient looking analog class. The room's walls were hugged by dozens of bookshelves, each carrying ancient and dusty tomes of history. This gave the room a very musty smell. Light came in through a huge window to the left of the students where Silas could see trees and snow stretching to the limits of his vision.

More and more students slowly entered the classroom and took seats. Silas noticed the boys who had entered the classroom before him were giving him dirty looks. He noticed that none of the students sat beside the girl, not because she was any sort of outcast, though, it seemed more like they deferred to her and were keeping their distance out of respect.

A boy finally strutted into the class, a mere minute before nine and took his seat beside the girl. He was tall and had perfectly tamed brown hair. He held an air of arrogance and power about him. Silas wondered if he was staring at the ceiling considering how hard he was trying to look down on the rest of them.

Silas almost let loose a laugh at how odd they were all behaving. It was clear they were trying to portray themselves as having come from high origins. The only thing was, it was lost on eleven year old children who were all just as tall as each other. Their arrogance only ended up reminding him of the spoiled children he saw on the streets as they looked down or feigned ignorance on poor children like Silas. It was better that way. They pretended not to notice him, while he cut their pockets and took them for all they had. What's the price of a cake to a rich prat when it meant food for his entire orphanage to him?

Professor Agapov stood then, when the clock struck nine exactly, and waved his wand. Large maps rolled down from the wall depicting Europe during various time periods.

"I assume you've all completed the assigned readings. We will begin a trial examination for each of you," immediately parchments flew out to all of them, quills appeared at their sides, and inkpots materialized onto their tables, seemingly from the tables themselves. Silas saw questions meant to test him on the book he had studied the night before. An hourglass appeared into the professor's hands.

"You have thirty minutes."

Silas threw himself at the exam. He had eagerly read the book, rushing through page after page even long after he started feeling sleepy. Late into the night, he had guiltily put the book down and had gone to sleep. This showed as Silas was able to finish the exam, well before the sand had finished rushing out of the hourglass. He looked over his writing once more to ensure everything was correct. Their first lesson had covered the feats of wizards during Britain's first goblin rebellion. Silas remembered from his readings that the rebellions had been largely concentrated in Britain itself as many other nations had managed to effectively control their goblin population. It was a common theme that wizards were far superior to the goblins in their book, as a result they were to be treated as lesser beings. By allowing any opportunities to goblins in Britain, they had made it possible for the goblins to coalesce and strike back against their masters.

Silas had hated this line of thinking, however, and attempted to show some arguments in his answers proposing alternate causes. He had seen too much of the same kind of division with poverty in Estonia. The rich lived in great luxury and with much pleasure while the poor suffered. The goblins rebelling in Britain had finally found the means to survive and made their demands for a better life known. It was the treatment of wizards, afterwards, that had led to the rebellion. It was known, now, that the goblins through means such as Gringotts bank in Britain had grown and created wealth and prospered whereas the goblins in the rest of the world suffered. As a result, Britain had prospered from its more free and wealthy goblins while other magical states ended up having to pay banking dues to gringotts, the same goblins they had repressed for centuries. Any direct mention of this was missing in its entirety from Silas' history books. He was grateful for having read analytical books on history from his local library as they had allowed Silas to shape his perceptiveness towards the past and learn to critically think from a very young age.

When the sand had run out from the hourglass, all the students' parchments were suddenly pulled towards the professors. Many of Silas' classmates who were still writing exclaimed in displeasure as their quills left a long mark on their answers as the parchments were pulled away. Their professor read through the paper at a frightening speed. He categorized them in a method he chose not to share, leaving them in two piles.

He returned seven parchments from the pile on the left. One of them was Simon's.

"Your analysis was extremely textbook, I expect you to use your heads to make up some thoughts of your own. You may be young, but you are no muggles. You must be faster, smarter, and more ruthless if you wish to succeed,"

The professor then returned the remaining three exams, one of them was Silas', the other two belonged to the boy and girl sitting at the central table.

"Mr. Silas," the professor stated, giving Silas an appraising look, "I assume your analysis stems from your…. origins?"

"Yes, professor."

"You stray quite far from the textbook, yet your analysis is nuanced, in that I give you credit."

"As for you two, you propose thoughts that stray from the textbook, as well, yet it stays along its central line of thinking. Well done to you three, I want to see better from the rest of you."

"History will not be your most exciting class by far. It will not grant you immediate power as your other classes may. But it will allow you to ascertain a critical mindset. You will learn to think in this class, to analyze the mistakes of the past, and to perhaps learn to lead the future. We are not by any means the successors to history, we are only another building block in the existence of our people. If you wish to be anything some day, you will learn history, you will excel at its offerings, and you will find that some things are more powerful than just raw magic."

Silas could tell that the professor's ideas strayed far from the orthodox thinking that permeated throughout the school. He recognized certain points the professor had made that went word for word against what the headmaster had told them earlier. He saw it in the glares of some of the students of the room. Simon, too, seemed a little surprised. With that, the professor continued into his lecture, expanding upon what the students had learned from their textbooks to prepare for the class.

oOoOo

It was a mentally exhausting forty minutes later that the class was finished. Silas had filled up two pages of his notebook with notes. He still enjoyed the lecture, though. When their class was over, the professor dismissed them. They had two hours to get to their next class, which according to Silas' timetable was combat magic with Professor Vulchanova. After the two friends set out, however, they were immediately stopped by the boy from class. He stood with the two boys who sat at the table beside him earlier.

Silas pulled out his wand and Simon only stepped back, unsure of what to do. The boy sneered at Silas' action.

"What're you going to do, poke me with your wand?" the boy taunted.

"Why, you afraid of getting poked?" Silas shot back.

"Show some respect to your betters," he growled, "I am Octavian of the Noble and Most Ancient house of Rosier. I have more magical blood in my pinkie than you will ever hope to have,mudblood."

At this, even Simon pulled out his wand.

"What yournoble highnessgets two bodyguard dogs to carry around with him? What're your names, oog and boog?" Silas pointed his wand towards the two brutes behind Octavian.

"You can shut your mouth, mudblood. Heard you don't even have a family name, what no one wanted you?"

Silas felt anger surging up, but he knew his wand was practically useless in his hands, the only charm he knew was the light charm he had learned from his charms textbook. He had learned from his book that magic was as much intention as it was wand-waving and incantations. But he doubted he could 'intend' them away.

"Brat, stop defending the mudblood and scram, at least half of your bloodline isn't tainted."

Silas cut off Simon's reply, "Simon how about you head to class, I think I can handle this."

Silas had no clue how to handle this.

Simon looked back to Silas hesitantly. Seeing the determination in his eyes, he reluctantly backed off and kept his eyes on the group until he turned a corner. Silas waited until his friend was out of sight and stared down Octavian, who put his wand away.

"How about we take you for a little walk, hm?" Octavian smirked. Silas pointed his want towards the three and tried to 'push' his power into the wand, he shut his eyes and yelledLUMOS.Without turning back to see the effects of his spell, he dispelled the bright white marks he saw as he ran down some corridor behind him. He kept running and turning randomly until he heard their shouts dissipate behind him. If it was one thing he was good at, it was running. He only hoped they wouldn't hunt after Simon.

oOoOo

Silas was now hopelessly lost, though. He stumbled through the dark hall lit up only by floating orbs of fire at its side. He began to panic as the time grew nearer to his class. Time passed by quickly as Silas ran around trying desperately to find a way back to where he could ask for help. He suddenly stopped as he felt the same presence he had felt from the symbol the day before. He moved towards the power and saw the symbol from which it was emanating.

"Wizard ssssneaking around sssschool hmm?"

Silas turned immediately towards the noise. He saw a black snake slithering towards him at a leisurely pace.

"I am lost, can you help me?"

"Ssspeaker, youngling you sssspeak our language."

"Yes, I am lost, please."

"It would me my pleasssure to guide you, ssspeaker."

Silas followed the snake as it led it through the dark corridors of the castle. They arrived at a clearing with another one of the vibrant gardens. There Silas saw the white-haired girl sitting there on a rocky platform at the edge of the clearing. She stared at Silas impassively who looked back at her sheepishly.

"Would you happen to know the way to class?" Silas asked. The girl continued to stare at Silas. After what felt like an eternity she nodded and got up and headed down a corridor opposite from where SIlas had entered. He looked down and saw that the snake who had guided him here previously had disappeared. Silas ran off to catch up with the girl.

"My name's Silas," he pushed out as he caught up to her.

"Rosalyn Lestrange,' she replied, only dipping her head towards him in greeting.

"Thanks so much for helping me out, I have no idea how you get around here."

"Consult the map in ourArchives of Durmstrangtextbook," she replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

Rosalyn seemed to know her way around quite well as it took only a few minutes before they got to the class. Either that, or Silas had lucked out when he was randomly making his way through the corridors.

Rosalyn entered the classroom, followed by Silas. Much to his displeasure, Rosier and his two brutes had already found their way to the classroom. Silas took his seat beside Simon, Rosalyn chose to take her seat at the center of the classroom, beside Rosier, once again. He made a mental note to ask Simon about how people were seated in the class. This time, Simon had taken a seat on the leftmost table, abandoning the table just to the left of the center.

The class began as Professor Vulchanova walked in and shut the doors behind him.

"Hello everyone. My name is Professor Vulchanova. I will instruct you on rudimentary self defense and offense. I expect many of you have taken private lessons prior to your formal schooling and will be ahead of our curriculum. If you find yourself in this situation, feel free to explore the spells found within your textbook. Be warned, however, that such exploration can lead to dangerous consequences. As such I advise most of you to listen along in class and participate well. We will begin our more practical demonstrations and applications further along in this term. Any questions?"

When no one responded, the professor continued onwards, lecturing the class on the usage and proper method to invoke the disarming spell,expelliarmus. During the practical testing of the lesson, Silas quickly found himself able to cast the spell and was pleased with his ability to cast a new spell. However, he was not alone. The entire class was able to successfully cast the spell on their first try. Many of them, in fact, seemed bored with the task, as if they'd learned it before.

"Before you all begin whining about the ease of this lesson, know that Durmstrang will not make your education easy. This was only your introductory lesson. We will be picking up the pace from here."

The professor then assigned the parts of the textbook on the shielding spell, protego, and had the students practice it on their own time. They were given the 10 minutes before class was over to use studying the spell if they so wished. Octavion stood up after the professor was done speaking and immediately performed the spell, he took his seat immediately after. After reading the text, Silas stood and performed the spell, followed by many of the other students in their cohort.

When the professor dismissed them for the day, Silas rushed out of the class with Simon in hopes of getting to their dorms before Octavion could confront them. They succeeded in making their getaway and soon found themselves in their cohort's common room, surrounded by the ten room doors. Exhausted, he bid Simon farewell and headed off to his room to review what they'd learned that day and prepare for the next day. They'd also been assigned lengthy work, essays, by both professors. From Professor Vulchanova, an essay about the underlying theory behind the intent of combat spells, and from Professor Agapov, an essay on the second goblin rebellion.

"Hello again, sssnakelet,"Selene greeted Silas as he entered.

"Hello, Selene, did you do anything interesting?"Silas replied.

"This isss a dark yet beautiful castle, sssnakelet, there are many othersss of my kind here."

"There are indeed. Have you befriended any?"

"Yes. Your kind are not very sssimilar to you, sssnakelet. I wasss told you were lossst. Take me with you, you ssshall not be lossst again, I have learned from my breathren."

Silas realized he could very well carry selene within his coat or his overlying robe, if the need arose, and so he agreed. Selene might even be able to help him fend off people like Octavian in the future.

With that in mind, and Selene curled up on his shoulders by the small fireplace in his room, Silas got to work on his assignments.

oOoOo

It was well into the evening when Silas finally finished his work. They were summoned to the great hall for supper. Other than a number of glares from Octavian and his two lapdogs, Silas didn't face many other problems.

When they had returned to their common room after eating, an older student stood there, waiting for them.

"Greetings, first years. Many of you are already aware of the organization of Durmstrang's legion system and Quidditch cup, this presentation is for those who are not. Each legion may field one quidditch team of seven players. Legions compete for the chance to represent Durmstrang in the interscholastic quidditch competition, and to represent their year in the Durmstrang quidditch tournament. Selections will occur next week for your legion team. Furthermore, each cohort, each legion, and each year will have a singular dedicated student as its leader. For this cohort, the 18th cohort, your temporary assigned leader, chosen by lot, is to be Emily of the House of Keller."

A girl standing in front of the room closest to the entrance, across from Silas' room smirked, presumably this was Emily.

"Your cohort leader will be chosen for the year at the end of the first term based on interim grades. A cohort leader has the ability and jurisdiction to assign detentions to cohort members and to levy punishments as they see fit for disciplinary issues. Your legion will not have a leader until the second term."

With that said, the older student left the room, not sparing the younger students another look or responding to the questions they threw at him as he left.

"I'm going to make your life hell when I win the cohort title at the end of the term, mudblood," Octavian called out with a smirk from across the hall. He'd taken the room at the end of the hall, on the boys' side.

"If you win, Rosier," Rosalyn replied with a smirk on her face. Silas noticed that Emily, the girl who was their temporary leader did not retort, instead she followed suit with Rosalyn who returned to her room and shut the door.

Simon and Silas took a seat by the fire as Selene moved up in his coat, towards the neck, perhaps to be closer to the warmth. Simon explained that the hierarchy of Durmstrang was initially dependent on the nobility of your family, which explained how the central tables in a classroom were left to those who had the noblest of origins. Following the first term, when academic standings were made known, those who ranked the highest assumed the position as the leader of their cohort, and promptly were placed at the head of the student hierarchy.

Silas was determined to excel in all he could. He wasn't too keen on having to deal with Octavian's bullying all year long. He'd learned that power was really only the important thing in the world, and if he could seize some of it to keep him and his friends safe, then he would absolutely do it.

After all, Professor Vulchanova was right,Magic makes Might.

oOoOo

William Potter, the heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter entered Black manor to applause, cheering, and a number of gushing admirers. It was the annual Black gala, hosted by his father's friend, Sirius. His godfather, Remus, sat with Sirius at the head table. They quickly rose when they saw the Potter family arrive. William shook all the hands of the people who rushed over to welcome him or try to get a picture of him with the press. It was all such a hassle. This was largely a gathering of the politicians that made up the Wizengamot.

The Phoenix faction and the non-aligned were present en masse, the Merlin faction, however, did not have a very strong representation. They had all been invited of course, but the Merlin faction refused, for the most part, to be associated with the factions they claimed were ruining Britain. Members of the lower house of the Wizengamot were also present. The upper house was selected by blood, as the seats of the upper house belonged to noble families. The lower house was comprised entirely of elected members of the public. Where the upper house was dominated by the Phoenix faction and the Non-aligned faction, the lower house consisted almost entirely of the Phoenix and Merlin faction, split evenly in half. It seemed there were a lot more orthodox wizards than there had seemed before. It was hard enough as it is for the upper house to pass laws, it was harder yet to get the lower house's approval. It was all according to his father's plan of reforming Britain though, William supposed.

Either way, William often refused to play a political role and flex his fame to help his father, not out of humility, of course, but because he was much more interested in other things, namely quidditch, or duelling for that matter. As a result his parents often had to drag him along to political events. He had come for this event, voluntarily though, as he took any opportunities to meet his uncles Sirius and Remus, and his friends. As William rushed off to meet with Ron and Neville, he quickly looked back at his mother for approval, who nodded to allow him.

Looking at her son run off to play with his friends Lily was once again, inexplicably, reminded of her lost son. Pushing off dark thoughts, she went off to greet her old friends.

oOoOo

Grindelwald watched as Silas spoke to the snake in parseltongue with glee. He had found the one who had alerted his cursed wards, and his magical potential was greater than he could have ever hoped. His ability to use parseltongue excited him more so. He was about to reveal himself to the boy earlier when he was being cornered by his classmates earlier, but had been satisfied with his ingenuity in defending himself, now he was absolutely ecstatic about finding the perfect apprentice to carry his family's legacy onward. The legacy that would integrate the magical world with the muggle world and end the quest his family had begun generations ago.

He then turned off and stalked off through the winding passages of the castle toward the headmaster's office. The current resting place of the man who had corrupted and pushedhisschool to the brink of ruin. Nepotism, bribery, ruination, all of these had led to the deterioration of the cornerstones of Durmstrang. No more.

Grindelwald wandlessly willed the headmaster's door open, effortlessly pushing aside the numerous protective wards that had been placed there.

Karkaroff threw himself away from the door as the ex-Dark Lord took a look around the office. With his wand in a shaking hand he threw curses at him repeatedly hoping to somehow score a hit. Grindelwald just shook these aside with his hand. He dodged past numerous killing curses until he could reach out and grab Karkaroff's wand. He snapped it with his hand and looked up at the full height of a terrified Karkaroff.

"DIE."Grindelwald commanded. Almost immediately Karkaroff collapsed. He waved his corpse out of his office and off the school grounds. Recognizing his new position of authority the school wards complied.

It was good to be back.