The story of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do not make any money off of this story. It's just a bit of fun and me trying to become better at writing in English.

The story I am writing is going to about my OC. Expelled from Durmstrang he joins Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and paves himself a new path. I will try to stick to the original canon in some instances but there will be a lot places where events happen quite differently. So uh.. be warned.

4th of June 1994, Durmstrang Institute

Adrian Valor sat impatiently in the dimly lit office, waiting for Headmaster Karkaroff to arrive. It was his first time seeing the inside of the headmasters office. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, with dark wooden panelling lining the walls adorned with old, faded tapestries depicting images of important figures from the schools past such as the founder, Nerida Vulchanova, an older looking woman with black hair and a serious expression on her face. A large ornate desk was placed at the centre of the room, its surface filled with stacked parchments and a few old books. Behind the desk was an imposing black chair, which was for the headmaster.

"Dammit..." thought Adrian, his eyebrows furrowed. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He had worked extremely hard over the past four years, getting as good as he can with his magical skills and his grades, rising through the ranks of the social hierarchy in Durmstrang in order to join the international duelling circuit. That had been his dream for years. When he was a child, seeing his father compete in many duels all over the world had been exhilarating. He was untouchable, his knowledge of magic so deep that even though his opponents had tried his best to win, they never managed. His father, was his hero, the Overlord of the Duelling circuit.

But as all good things, it didn't last forever. His father in his late thirties caught dragon pox. A slow and deadly disease. Seeing him compete in many a tournaments despite his illness was admirable but soul crushing nonetheless. After the disease had his way with him, he was a shell of his former self struggling to cast even the simplest of shield charms. Over the years he grew weak and one day when he was competing in the duelling pit despite the warnings of many doctors he died. A heart attack. Adrian watched as his father was taken off the pit in a stretcher, his eyes empty of his usual spark. While his opponents laughed at him, saying that the so called "Overlord" had overestimated his abilities and bit the dust.

Adrian was in the stands on that dark day. It was the worst day of his life. The day he became an orphan. Seeing the looks on people's faces as they laughed at his late father. That day, a fire started burning in him. He knew what he wanted to do with his life. To become the greatest duellist this world had ever seen and make the name Valor a feared name on the stage once again. So when he enrolled in Durmstrang at the age of eleven he was determined to become powerful. So powerful that people would once again know that the name Valor was never to be said in vain, but with respect.

That being said, right now as he was sat in the headmasters office that future he imagined was not looking so clear. See, Adrian was a very adept wizard, being very skilful with a wand and getting good grades at the same time. He was no doubt one of the best in his classes, excelling in every aspect as his goal of becoming a pro duellist was everything he wanted in life. And with the success he had in his school so came the jealousy of his peers. Those whose parents were rich and part of the elite class had grown up thinking they were superior to a half-blood like Adrian. That old foolish ideology. That the purity of your blood was what gave you power. What a load of rubbish. "Blood doesn't give you power. Only magic does, for magic is might." He always liked that saying. But he knew to keep it a secret. Spouting Grindelwald propaganda in the walls of Durmstrang was equal to suicide.

Now, some of his teachers didn't like him because he was a half-blood. But most of his fellow students hated him, because he was a half-blood. And with that, during the four years he had spent in Durmstrang there were many attempts at making life harder for him. Whether it be so called pranks from students that would have severely hurt him had they succeeded, or his teachers not giving him the grade he deservers out of bullshit reasons.

And recently his fellow students had succeed. It was the first time he was ambushed like this. While walking back from one of his classes a certain group of students made up of his classmates and a few upper years attacked him. When he heard the first spell he immediately ducked and rolled and started firing spells from his ebony wand. After a couple spells were flung from both sides he realised that he was seriously outmatched due the big difference in numbers and he had to take this situation seriously or he was going to get extremely hurt, or worse killed. So with incredible speed and precision he started firing very questionable curses from an old book he picked from an even more questionable magical shop in Norway, and went on the attack. He almost matched them in raw magical power, albeit at a slight disadvantage, but he had already knocked out a few of them and he was on his way to win this altercation when a sixth year called Dimitri fired the Cruciatus curse at him.

He really wasn't expecting that. And so he got caught off guard. Screaming "Protego!", with all his might didn't help. The curse tore through his shield and hit him straight in the chest. Pain, like he never knew was possible, exploded in his mind as his limp body fell to the ground. It was like his entire body was being stabbed from all directions while being set on fire. After that he heard someone shout "Stupefy!" and knew no more.

Perhaps it was a few seconds or perhaps it was more, he woke up in the infirmary. His entire body ached. He couldn't lift his head up properly and his throat was dry. As he was trying get his bearings the Head nurse came next to him. She looked at him with a sad expression on her face and told him that after drinking a couple of pain relief potions he had to see the Headmaster. The Headmaster? Oh fuck. Those bastards were going to make this entire thing seem like he had attacked them first!

"Oh, and don't forget your wand, dear." said the nurse as she handed him his jet black wand back. "Go on drink up and visit the Headmaster, don't keep him waiting."

She left without giving a another look at him. Well fuck.

After drinking his potions some feeling came back to his core and legs and he could feel the pain leaving him. Were there no ways that someone could detect Cruciatus curse usage on a body? He didn't think he was going to get that lucky. So he left the Infirmary and went on his way to the Headmasters quarters. His Dark Arts Professor was waiting for him at the entrance.

"In you go Mr. Valor.", said Professor Petrov. The middle-aged man with a moustache opened the door for him. "Headmaster Karkaroff will be with you shortly."

He didn't know what his punishment was going to be. "Anything but expulsion..." he whispered to himself as he walked into the office. He could handle other things be it helping teachers for months or detention for years. But not expulsion. His dreams of joining the duelling circuit might just go up in flames if that happened. That was because to join the international duelling circuit one had to have graduated from a magical school that the board of duelling recognized. So if someone couldn't complete their magical education, tough shit. you weren't getting in. And he highly doubted any other magical school would accept him if they learned that he was expelled from Durmstrang of all places. The school's reputation was already not that great with how heavily it was involved with dark arts. And to be expelled from that school? Yeah it wouldn't be great, as people seem to think that the only person expelled from Durmstrang was Grindelwald.

So, here he was waiting for Karkaroff to arrive, contemplating how his life turned out like this. "If only I was a pureblood..", he thought. Things might have been easier. He looked at the mirror that was hanging on the dark wall to his side. His tired fourteen year old self stared back at him. With his long black hair and sharp grey eyes. His hair tie was probably lost in that mess. At least his wand was still intact. A beautiful Gregorovitch creation. Ebony, 13 inches with a dragon heart-string core. Unyielding. His most prized possession after his books that his father had left him. "I just hope no one has broken the protection spell I left on my room." he whispered to himself. "Those bastards would probably-

"Mr. Valor.", a cold voice came from behind him.

Adrian spun around in his seat to face the entrance. Karkaroff had arrived and Adrian felt like his presence had just filled the room with an even heavier atmosphere. The tall, gaunt man stared down at Adrian with a look of disdain.

Karkaroff walked slowly to his desk, his robes swishing with each step and settled into the black chair behind it. He placed his fingers together and regarded Adrian with a long penetrating gaze.

"I assume you know why I called you here." Karkaroff began, his tone icy. "Your actions this morning have been less then exemplary and there must be consequences for them."

Adrian opened his mouth to protest, but Karkaroff raised a hand to silence him.

"Enough." he snapped. "You have hurt several of my most promising students, not to mention the large amount of damage you have caused in the school halls."

"They attacked me first!" Adrian shouted. "They have been at my back ever since I arrived in this school! I have complained to the staff countless times but they never took any of my complaints seriously! And today they attacked me and could well have killed me had I not defended myself. They used the Cruciatus curse on me for fuck's sake!",

He was seething with anger. The amount of bigotry that was in this school was off the charts.

"And no one believes me.. Why? Because why would would you believe a filthy half-blood? Is that right? Check Dimitri's wand! He's the one who cast the Cruciatus on me!"

Karkaroff remained silent for a moment, his steely gaze unwavering. The tension in the room was palpable. Finally Karkaroff sighed, his expression one of cold detachment.

"Dimitri's wand, unfortunately was found destroyed," Karkaroff said, his voice devoid of any sympathy. "Convenient, wouldn't you say? Without it, there's no way to verify your claims."

Adrian's heart sank. He knew Dimitri and the other students must have concocted this story, making sure that the evidence would conveniently disappear. He felt a surge of despair and anger.

"Headmaster, you must understand," Adrian pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady. "I didn't want to do any of this today. But I had no choice. They left me no choice."

Karkaroff's eyes narrowed. "No choice, Mr Valor? Or perhaps you simply wanted to showcase you prowess with dark magic? Make the purebloods believe that you're superior to them?"

I am superior to them!, He wanted to shout. But he couldn't do that, not now.

He shook his head vehemently. "No! That's not it at all! They were going to kill me!"

Karkaroff leaned back in his chair, his expression on of contemplation. "Regardless of the circumstances, your actions were reckless and dangerous. You not only endangered yourself but others as well. This institution cannot afford such risks."

Adrians mind raced. There had to be something, some way to convince Karkaroff. But before he could say anything more, the headmaster continued.

"Your situation is... complicated," Karkaroff said slowly. "You are a talented wizard for your heritage Mr. Valor. However you show no restraint. And talent without control is a threat. And your penchant for dark spells does not bode well for your future here."

Dark spells? Really? At Durmstrang?

Adrian clenched his fists. "So that's it then? I'm to be expelled because I defended myself?"

Karkaroff sighed again, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "You leave me no choice, Mr. Valor. For the safety of this school and its students, you are hereby expelled from Durmstrang Institute."

Those words hit Adrian like a physical blow. He felt a wave of despair wash over him, but he refused to let the tears fall. He had to stay strong.

"There is however, one option," Karkaroff said, his tone softening slightly. "I have connections at other schools. Perhaps I can recommend you to Hogwarts. They might take you in, given the right circumstances."

Adrian looked up anger but a flicker of hope inside him. "Hogwarts? But would they accept me?"

Karkaroff nodded. "I will do what I can, But remember, you have to tow the line and respect your betters. Any more incidents and your future in this world will be in jeopardy."

Cold fury showered over him. Respect his betters... is that right?

Adrian swallowed his anger and nodded. "I understand, Headmaster. Thank you for you kind words."

Karkaroff stood, signalling the end of their conversation. "Pack your things. You will leave in the morning. Lucky for you the year has nearly ended so it won't be a problem for you in terms of missing any school."

Adrian walked out of Karkaroff's office, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. His vision blurred with unshed tears as he stumbled through the dimly lit corridors of Durmstrang, each step echoing with the painful reality of his expulsion. His feet led him almost unconsciously to the nearest bathroom, where he pushed open the door and collapsed against the cool, tiled wall.

He slid down to the floor, burying his face in his hands. The tears he had been holding back finally broke free, streaming down his face as sobs wracked his body. For what felt like an eternity, he let the tears flow, releasing all the frustration, anger, and sadness that had been building up inside him.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!" he let out a guttural scream.

After what felt like hours, Adrian's sobs subsided. He wiped his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his robe, taking deep, shaky breaths to calm himself. His eyes were red and puffy, but the storm inside him had settled into a cold, steely resolve. He stood up slowly, his legs feeling weak and unsteady, and splashed some water on his face. The coolness helped clear his mind, and he stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the determined look in his eyes.

"So be it." said Adrian coldly, and walked out of the bathroom. The corridors seemed even more oppressive now, as if the very walls were mocking his downfall. As he approached the dormitory, he heard voices from the common room. He paused, his curiosity piqued despite his exhaustion, and moved closer to the door, which was slightly ajar.

Inside, he saw Dimitri and his group lounging on the sofas, talking animatedly.

"I heard he cried like a baby in front of Karkaroff," Dimitri sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Pathetic. The half-blood thought he was our equal."

Ivan, a fifth-year, snorted. "Can you believe he actually tried to fight back? He should have known his place. Now he's paying the price."

Natalia, another member of the group, laughed harshly. "Imagine thinking you could ever be one of us. He was always delusional."

Adrian's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. Each cruel word stung like a physical blow, but it also fueled the fire of his resolve. They had no idea what he had been through, no understanding of his pain and determination. They were content to laugh at his suffering, to revel in his downfall.

"Do you think he will go anywhere else?" Ivan asked with a smirk. "Or will he end up wandering the streets, a disgrace to his father's name. Shame about him marrying a muggle and lowering his family's name."

Dimitri shrugged, a malicious grin on his face. "Who cares? As long as he's gone from here, he can rot in hell for all I care."

Adrian had heard enough. Silently, he slipped away from the door and headed to his room. Each step he took felt heavier with the weight of his determination. They thought they had broken him, but they had only made him stronger. His mind was already formulating plans, strategies to turn this setback into a comeback.

As he entered his room, he was relieved to find his protection spells still intact. At least his possessions were untouched. He began packing his things, carefully placing his books and prized possessions into his trunk. Each item he packed was a reminder of his purpose, a symbol of his commitment to his father's legacy.

"I'll show them," he muttered under his breath, his eyes burning with fierce determination. "They'll regret the day they crossed me. This isn't the last you'll hear from me Dimitri... and all the rest of you fucks. I am going to make you regret the day you were born."

The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a pale glow on his resolute face. He knew his journey was far from over. Durmstrang might have cast him out, but Hogwarts awaited. And there, he would rise again, stronger and more determined than ever. He vowed to himself that he would not only survive but thrive, and when the time was right, he would return to show them all the true power of what it meant to be a Valor.

What do you think? A review would be appreciated.