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Harry Potter and the Perversion of Purity
By ACI100
Book 4: The Deadliest of Games
Chapter 20: A Taste of Glory
October 2, 1994
Durmstrang Institute
10:37 PM
Crouch's quarters were unremarkable. Floors, walls, and ceilings were carved from smooth grey stone and the only furniture was a bed, an old armchair, and a plain but sturdy writing desk. A narrow door carved into the leftmost wall led to what Harry guessed must have been a restroom and a small window provided a clear view of the silver moon and swirling snow outside.
Stacks of parchment were neatly arrayed across the desk, behind which sat Crouch. It was still strange seeing the grey hairs and hawk-like face any time he looked his way.
"Sit." Crouch had inherited his father's voice — both were clipped and like a pair of whips.
Harry took the stiff-backed armchair and waited.
"How did your first day here treat you?"
"Well enough. I attended the function showing off all the classes to students from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, but it didn't really change anything." Not when I had already seen them all a hundred times.
"So the plans you informed the Dark Lord of remain intact?"
What would you say if I told you no? "Yes."
"Good." Crouch snatched one of the topmost sheets of parchment and glanced down. "So you'll be taking Spell Creation, Warding, General Charms, Duelling, Dark Arts, Defensive Magic, Combat, Conjuration, and Organic Transfiguration?"
A part of him tingled when the list was read aloud; it had been a long time since he had felt such anticipation for his classes. "Yes."
"You understand how ambitious this list is, do you not?"
Probably better than you do. "I know I won't have time to attend them all and that some of them will be entirely self-guided."
"And you are aware of Durmstrang's stance on these things?"
"I can take as many classes as I like, but passing them is my responsibility and they don't treat failing well."
"Failing is not an option — nothing but top results will please the Dark Lord. You are confident you can achieve these?"
"Yes."
"Professors Molkarov, Kuzmenko, and Laidan might be problematic."
Harry picked back through his bank of memories. "They teach Dark Arts, Combat, and Duelling, right?"
"Yes, and each might pose problems. Molkarov is an old friend of Karkaroff's and was expelled from Hogwarts some forty years back. It is known that he does not look on the institution fondly."
Great. "So I'll probably have to deal with him being a biased twat, then?"
"Kuzmenko resents that the visiting contingents bypassed the standardized testing undertaken by third years that decide their applicability for deeper learning starting in the Durmstrang fourth year. He feels it makes a mockery of his class and plans on making that point clear."
He's probably right. Many of the Hogwarts students would not fare well in his classes. "What about the last one? Laidan, wasn't it?"
"Laidan accepts only the best into his classes and he has been forced to take on more students this year than he would ever have chosen willingly."
"So all of them will be out to make a point, and being the Boy-Who-Lived makes me a perfect target?"
"Correct."
Let them try. They could learn what Sirius Black had learned last year, and what Daphne Greengrass had learned.
Or maybe not. He hoped Draco was handling things well; something told him Greengrass would not wait long to enact whatever she was planning.
"I don't see much that can be done," he said. I've always been a target. That would only become truer soon, when he was selected as Triwizard Champion.
"The Dark Lord has a vaster, more ambitious mind. The problem will be resolved later in the week. Remain prepared for a summons; you will assist me when it is cured."
Why bother? What did Voldemort want? It could not simply be crushing biases held against Harry by professors?
No, it's more than that. Perhaps he wanted to ensure the professors squeezed every ounce of effort into him whilst he was here at Durmstrang. It makes sense; I'd want to make sure my weapon was sharp, if I were him.
"I'll be ready."
"I have another warning — this one more dire."
Is this the way he thinks of everything? Like points on a checklist? "What is it?"
"Beware Alastor Moody."
How thick does he think I am? "I was planning on it."
"That eye of his does more than help him see. It can peer through walls, floors, and ceilings, through wood, stone, and steel."
"And out his own head — yeah, Theodore told me when Moody came to Hogwarts and taught about the Unforgivables."
"We suspect that there is more at play," Crouch went on as if there had been no interruption. "Proving such theories are all but impossible, but we suspect the eye can see through magical deceptions. Disillusionment Charms, glamours, wards — most anything of that variety."
That sent a sharp jolt through him. How is that possible? "What is it? The eye, I mean?"
Crouch's lips thinned. "If I knew, I would have recreated it a dozen times."
Harry churned through his memories for anything Grindelwald might have uncovered whilst travelling abroad, but nothing sounded anything like what Crouch described.
But I have the cloak, he reminded himself. It won't be seeing through that.
Possibilities flashed through him. Could I get strong enough to find out what it does? Surely Moody would one day oppose him. Imagine what could be done with that eye…
Crouch was staring a hole straight through him. "I presume you grasp the import?"
"Yes," he muttered. "I'll be careful."
I can't always keep the cloak on, he thought whilst on the trek back towards Dumbledore's stone dragon. How closely will he watch me?
He shut himself behind his curtains and closed his eyes. The amulet was cold against his neck, its pendant sliding along his chest as he took deep, steadying breaths.
What's wrong with me? he thought five minutes later when nothing had yet happened.
He cast his mind inwards and examined his thoughts. They were smoother than a sheet of glass, calmer than a tranquil sea. So what's going on?
Panic reached for him — never had he failed to contact Grindelwald. Does the pendant not work here? No, that could not be — Grindelwald would have warned him.
He can't be dead. The thought sped up his breaths until each became a short and shallow rasp. He can't be!
Harry forced his mind back calm. There are a hundred things it could be. The magic involved with whatever happened when their thoughts connected still perplexed him. It's probably something small. Things must be perfect for something like this to work.
Then why, he wondered as weariness dragged him down into an uneasy void, had this never failed before?
October 3, 1994
Durmstrang Institute
12:14 PM
It was easy deciphering which students hailed from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons entering the mess hall for lunch during that first day of classes. Had each school's distinctive robes not set them apart, the frantic, wide-eyed air clinging to many of the visitors would have revealed them.
Contrary to most of his peers from Hogwarts, Harry wore a smile as he took his seat and began ladling hot stew into a deep bowl. There had been no introductory classes for the travelling students; the professors had proceeded as though nothing had changed and had pressed on with ruthless fervour.
"I feel like my head's about to split open," Anthony Goldstein complained. "I haven't felt so wrung out since first year."
Alexei smiled across the table. "What's wrong? Are your high and mighty British egos bruised?"
Anthony spluttered. "Egos? What do egos have to do with anything? I expected some kind of introduction."
"You didn't do enough reading," Harry told him frankly. "Durmstrang is known for being fast-paced and ruthless."
"It's the best way," Ladislav proclaimed. "Durmstrang creates better witches and wizards than any school in the world."
"Rubbish," Anthony said with a dismissive gesture.
"Not completely," said Harry. "Durmstrang also just has more students fail out each year than any other school."
Ladislav yawned. "They should have taken lighter class loads if they couldn't hack it."
Harry nodded. "That's pretty much how I look at it."
Ladislav looked him up and down. "You don't seem too haggard."
"Harry? Haggard?" Theodore waved a hand. "I doubt you'll ever see it."
Alexei leant across the table. "I heard something about you the other day," he said.
Harry took a spoonful of stew with utter outward calm. "Oh?"
"Someone said you got into it with Romanov and her guards."
So that's spread, has it? "Not sure 'got into it' is the right way to say it." It was best diffusing that rumour before every Russian loyalist inside Durmstrang turned against him. That's one distraction I don't need. "We just sort of ran into each other."
Alexei snorted. "You just ran into the Romanov heiress?"
"More like her bodyguards just ran into me."
"That probably wasn't an accident," said Ladislav. "There aren't many accidents involving her lot."
That's about what I guessed. Katarina Romanov had probably desired a glimpse of the Boy-Who-Lived.
It almost curled his lip. Soon, he promised himself. Soon I'll be known for more than that.
That afternoon…
The wind was fierce and cold up high. It whistled through the shaven peaks and echoed down off flat slabs of stone, thrown across the crystal lake and out over the valley far below them.
"I don't like this," Theodore muttered in his ear.
Neither do I. They stood shoulder to shoulder with all the fourth and fifth years from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons who were participating in Combat. Just feet ahead, the stones fell away into a gaping chasm that stretched some two hundred metres across. The opposing edge was situated some ten feet above their mountain's peak, connected by a stone bridge striking across the chasm's heart. Red-robed students leered down from that peak, all of them fourth or fifth years from Durmstrang. They outnumbered their contingent nearly three to one.
The wind howled through the chasm. It skipped gravel and small stones across the slender bridge and whipped the students' robes around them. It stabbed into their chests and took their breath away, it burrowed beneath their skin and chilled them to the bone.
"STUDENTS!" Professor Kuzmenko's amplified voice drowned out the raging winds, booming down from a third, still higher peak to Harry's right. "YOUR TASK IS SIMPLE. VISITORS, YOU ARE TO CROSS THE BRIDGE. DURMSTRANG, YOU ARE TO PREVENT THEM FROM DOING SO."
Harry's breath hitched. He can't be serious… Grindelwald had been thrown into countless scenarios back during his school days, but nothing so dangerous as this.
"THE BRIDGE MAY NOT BE TRANSFIGURED OR ATTACKED DIRECTLY. I WILL BE WATCHING CLOSELY AND ENSURING NO ONE FALLS." There's no way he can keep an eye on all of us. "BEGIN!"
Fuck! Harry threw up a silver shield that absorbed half a dozen curses thrown in his direction. Screams rang out on both sides and gravel crunched beneath the weight of falling bodies.
Half those curses weren't legal.
Theodore grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back in time to avoid the echoing blast and the crumbling stones underfoot. Half a dozen of their number toppled, but they halted in mid-fall.
Wards. Kuzmenko's thrown up wards to protect anyone who falls.
He latched onto that single shred of relief and forced his mind clear as his silver shield rippled beneath the onslaught of a dozen students. So many, all focusing on me.
Four boys from Beauxbatons had sprinted for the bridge, but there was a solid wall of bodies on its other side who fired curses and swept the would-be crossers off the stones and down into the chasm.
Kuzmenko's ward caught them.
This is fucking insane! Crouch had been deathly serious; Kuzmenko sought to send a painful message.
Well, so do I. The entire purpose behind his trip had been to send a message, and those red-robbed students across the chasm were holding nothing back.
So neither will I.
Harry banished a spray of small debris across the chasm, but in mid-flight, the pebbles became blunted arrows. Shield Charms absorbed their majority, but a handful of Durmstrang boys went down and it bought the visitors' a moment to draw breath.
"Cross!"
Theodore mirrored his trick, but instead of arrows, he just enlarged the pebbles until they were boulders. "Are you mad?"
Harry conjured a flock of birds that swirled around him and formed a shield against the next barrage. "Do you trust me?"
Theodore cursed as a spell clipped his shoulder and knocked him flat. His off arm jerked as he climbed back upright. Had the robes not covered his skin, Harry knew muscles would have visibly twitched just underneath.
"You'll cover me?" he rasped out through gritted teeth. Harry nodded, throwing up a silver shield again. "Fine!"
Harry spared a glance to either side as Theodore sprinted off in the direction of the bridge. Over half their number had fallen and about half of who remained were desperately sheltering for cover. More and more of the Durmstrang students were focusing their fire against him. Had the chasm not separated them by so great a distance, Harry was sure he would already have fallen.
I won't fall! This is just the first test here!
"Ora Lapis!"
Screams sounded across the chasm as the stones contorted and opened a gaping maw that swallowed almost all the Durmstrang students.
"Claudere."
The stone jaws shut, pinning legs against legs and arms against torsos. Only the heads of those who had been captured remained free and gaping.
Both incantations had been whispered, but those around him still gawked in awe. If only they really knew what just happened.
"There are benefits to casting in Parseltongue," Voldemort had told him over the summer. "Spells invoking snakes or anything related will function more strongly and with greater ease because, in speaking Parseltongue, you strengthen the association without cost."
Now for one of Grindelwald's favourites. "Fulgura!"
The fork of lightning sprouted a dozen prongs, each one stabbing just feet away from a Durmstrang students' feet. Stone was a poor conductor, so it ensured their safety, but still the shock and awe sent them sprawling just as Theodore began across the bridge, his path now all but clear.
The handful of remaining Durmstrang students took aim at Theodore, but Harry transfigured the stones around their feet into a pack of hissing snakes that reared up and struck at them.
The distraction was enough.
A loud bang echoed across the field when Theodore crossed the chasm. "THE EXERCISE HAS CONCLUDED," Kuzmenko thundered. The professor was too far away to be certain, but Harry swore the man was glaring.
Let him glare. The gaping jaws on all those who surrounded him was an antidote greater than any venom the professor could throw in his direction.
This is what it's like, he realized, reimagining himself holding aloft the Triwizard Cup with a new sense of anticipation. This is what it feels like earning the attention that they give you. It was a feeling all but unrivalled. I need more of this. Soon, he would have it.
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