Written in the Stars - My Journey Begins

My Journey Begins

Harry had always been an early riser, the dreams or visions, he couldn’t be certain what they were, not allowing him to slumber peacefully for the most part. This morning, however, he had been woken by the sound of snoring from one of his dorm-mates, the werewolf he had met the night before.

Cain Jankowski had come to Durmstrang from Poland, and along with three others, had been placed in a room with Harry.

He was a cautious boy, his eyes constantly shifting back and forth, as though he expected to be attacked at any moment.

His hair had already begun to grey, and several deep scars littered his hands, face, and neck, the remnants of the many transformations he had already endured.

From what Harry could gather, the boy had been turned as a baby, though when one of the other boys had asked, it had been clear he did not wish to discuss it.

They were still strangers, after all, so Harry could understand his reluctance.

Two of the three other boys in the room were half-bloods, one hailing from Russia; a bastard son of a nobleman he refused to name through fear of being murdered by the family.

Alex claimed that his father acknowledged him in secret, and that he and his mother was well-cared for, just not openly to avoid scandal and the inevitable fallout.

Not that any of that mattered to Harry.

Alex seemed friendly enough, and his personal life was the business of no one else.

Bruno Werner, the other half-blood, had joined them from Germany.

Harry hadn’t spoken to him much, but he was rather quiet, and seemed to observe more than join in conversations, choosing to do so only when he had something pertinent to say.

He was rather guarded, particularly towards the last person in their group.

Jonas Schneider was from Austria, was rather brash, and claimed that his mother was a hag.

Harry was unsure of the veracity of the claim, but it didn’t seem that it was something to be boastful of, especially with how prejudiced Durmstrang seemed to be.

Outwardly, the school claimed to be accepting of all, but there were no muggleborns here, and those that were not purebloods were certainly treated differently.

Harry suspected he and the others were only allowed to attend because the school needed the funding from tuition fees.

Not that Karkaroff was likely to admit it.

Still, he was here now, and he was determined to make the most of his time by working towards his own goals. Something the headmaster had assured him he would be able to do.

With Cain still snoring, the prospect of getting any more sleep was lost, so Harry decided that he would use the time before breakfast to do something productive.

Taking his leave of the dorm, he entered the common room to find that it wasn’t as empty as he had hoped.

The vampire he had met briefly the night before was in there, her pale skin illuminated by the roaring fire she was seated in front of.

There were several others in the room also, but they were sleeping, dotted around on the many sofas, and some even on the floor.

“I won’t bite you, you know,” the girl commented dryly.

Harry hadn’t realised he’d been staring and offered an apology that the girl waved off.

“I don’t suppose you’ve been around my kind?”

“No,” Harry answered.

The girl nodded.

“What do you know about us?”

“Nothing really,” Harry answered honestly. “Immortal, vulnerable to garlic.”

The girl snorted.

“Among other things,” she replied. “The clan I am a part of don’t hunt. It’s illegal now, and we would have been slaughtered centuries ago. That’s why I have the blood I do. It’s provided by people who are paid for it.”

“But you’re here?”

“I am,” the girl acknowledged. “I was not born a vampire. My parents decided they wished to join the clan when I was three, and I was turned a couple of years later. I still have my witch magic, along with the vampire things.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Did you want to be turned?”

“I wasn’t asked,” the girl answered with a shrug. “My parents made that decision for me. Our leader was furious with them.”

Harry felt sick at the thought of the girl being turned by her own parents, but it seemed to be something she took in her stride.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduced himself.

The girl raised an eyebrow at him.

“Lucinda,” she replied.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lucinda,” Harry offered as he took a seat next to her.

The girl seemed taken aback as she eyed him questioningly.

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, most humans hate us,” Lucinda pointed out. “It’s funny really, the purebloods are more tolerant of us than others, but they put us in here with you.”

“Because they’re better than the rest of us,” Harry snorted.

Lucinda grinned, exposing her elongated fangs.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “We can’t forget that. Why are you here, anyway?” she asked curiously. “You’re British. Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts?”

Harry shook his head.

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, “but Durmstrang is where I need to be.”

Lucinda simply nodded in response, not pressing him to elaborate.

“I suppose we all have our stories,” she murmured. “We have seven years to tell them.”

“We do,” Harry sighed as he stood, pausing as he reached for the nearby drawn curtains. “The sunlight…”

“It’s fine,” Lucinda assured him. “We have spells and other things that protect us from it. Our clan leader gave me this,” she explained, showing Harry an amulet that was tucked within her dress.

It appeared to be made from amber, but before he could get a closer look, the girl placed it back where it had been.

“So, are you a werewolf or any other mix?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, just a half-blood wizard,” he informed her. “My father was a pureblood and my mother a muggleborn.”

Lucinda nodded, but they were interrupted by the arrival of another group before the conversation could continue.

It was a retinue of other first-years that entered the common room, Ana amongst them.

She gave Harry an enthusiastic wave as she made her towards them with another girl in tow.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“I don’t sleep much,” Harry snorted. “I never have.”

“Oh,” Ana said quietly. “Well, this is…”

“Eleanor Summerbee,” the girl that had followed broke in.

Her blue eyes were alight with mischief, her smile matching, and her long blonde was tied in an elaborate braid.

“Summerbee?” Lucinda questioned. “Aren’t your family all purebloods?”

“Disgraced purebloods,” Summerbee corrected with a grin. “My grandmother is a rather famous thief. She stole several-hundred-thousands of galleons from different branches of Gringotts in the thirties.”

The girl seemed to be rather proud of the feat, and Harry nodded appreciatively.

Gringotts was supposed to be amongst the most secure banks across the world, after all.

“How did she manage that?” Harry asked.

Eleanor taped the end of her nose.

“Family secret.”

Harry snorted amusedly as he checked his watch.

“Shouldn’t we be heading down for breakfast now?”

Lucinda nodded as the other boys Harry shared a room with arrived.

“Where did you get to, Harry?” Cain questioned.

“Well, with you snoring like a beast, I didn’t feel like sticking around,” Harry replied dryly, “So I imposed my company on Lucinda for a while. She even offered to turn me if I get bored of being a human.”

“I did not!” Lucinda retorted hotly.

“Ah, maybe you’ll make the offer another day,” Harry sighed airily, smirking at the glaring vampire. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Without waiting for the others, he made his way towards the exit, an enormous, stone sliding door that led to one of the first-floor corridors.

This meant that the walk to the main hall wasn’t a long one, and he arrived only a few minutes later with the others trailing behind.

It was difficult to miss the looks of mistrust from the purebloods that were already here, and though none of them passed comment, Harry suspected things would not remain so when they interacted with each other more.

Still, he cared little for their opinion of him, or even the others he had been banded with.

Harry was here for his own reasons, and so long as he was left to pursue his goals in peace, he would not be the one to instigate any unpleasantness.

“Not a bad selection of food,” Jonas declared as he helped himself to a few sausages.

The group said little as they ate, and Harry watched with interest as they selected their chosen meals.

“So, you don’t eat any normal food?” he asked Lucinda.

The girl licked a trail of blood from her forefinger and shook her head.

“Your food all tastes like ash to me,” she explained. “I only need this.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“What about you, Ana?”

“My people eat mostly fish, vegetables, and some types of insects,” she informed him. “Forest food.”

“Ergh,” Jonas grimaced.

“Unless you have tried it for yourself, you shouldn’t judge,” Ana replied politely. “We have a very healthy diet, unlike some,” she added, nodding towards the platter of sausages the boy had taken a second helping from.

Jonas merely shrugged and continued eating.

“Bruno,” Harry pressed.

“We eat a lot of liver, well, my mother does,” the Austrian explained. “I can’t stand it personally, but I get sick if I go too long without it. Something about the stuff helps keep us healthy.”

“Is that a hag thing then?”

“I think so,” Bruno replied. “Even though only a female can be considered a hag, I still have some of the magic and physical traits.”

“I didn’t even know hags could have boys,” Eleanor broke in thoughtfully.

“It’s quite rare,” Bruno explained, “but it does happen occasionally. My mother was surprised when I came along. I’m surprised she didn’t have me gelded and raise me as a girl.”

The others laughed, though it died abruptly as Professor Karkaroff approached, his gaze shifting to each of them before coming to a rest on Harry.

“First years will remain within the hall when breakfast is concluded,” he announced, turning away before any could pester him with questions.

“He’s happy,” Eleanor giggled. “I wonder why he’s so miserable.”

“Because he has to run a school full of your kind,” a sneering voice answered as a group of boys passed.

“Our kind?” Harry asked.

“Filthy half-breeds,” the boy sneered.

“Rather a half-breed than an inbred,” Harry returned with a shrug.

The others around him gasped as some laughed, but the boy he had spoken to reddened considerably.

“You’d best watch that cheek,” he advised through clenched teeth. “There are some of us here that don’t take kindly to be spoken to in such a way by those that should not be breathing the same air.”

“I’ll remember that,” Harry replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my half-breed breakfast. Lucinda, would you mind passing me some of the blood?”

The boy paled as Harry took a sip and fought the urge to vomit.

He didn’t know how Lucinda could stomach the viscous fluid, but he managed to play it off as though he was enjoying it.

Without another word, the boy and his group left the hall and Harry immediately reached for a goblet of water, draining it in only a few sips.

“Remind me to not do that again,” he pleaded.

“Idiot,” Lucinda muttered as she took the blood from him.

“It was worth it,” Harry replied, nodding as Karkaroff returned with several other professors joining him this time.

The older students took this as their cue to leave, and those that remained fell silent and waited for the man to speak.

“Again, I welcome you all to Durmstrang,” Karkaroff began, though his tone lacked any sincerity. “The people you see before you will be responsible for your education for the first two years here, and you will meet all of them over the course of the next week as they introduce you to the studies they teach.”

Some of the professors waved, some offered nods, and others remained unmoving as Karkaroff gestured towards them.

“Now, I will explain a few things that apply to all of you,” the headmaster continued. “Firstly, there are extensive charms and other wonderful magics used at this institute solely to ensure that languages are not a barrier. The magic translates over six hundred known tongues from each corner of the earth so that we can communicate with one another. If you are a speaker of Russian, any words spoken are translated into your language. No other school has this magic in place, so I would still advise you to learn some languages you are not familiar with.”

Harry was impressed.

It was not something he’d even considered, but with almost all the people he had conversed with being from different countries, he perhaps should have.

“Also, the duelling room is off limits to all first years,” Karkaroff said firmly. “You will be able to attend from the beginning of your second year, if you so choose to. There are no exceptions to this rule. Do I make myself clear?”

The students nodded their understanding.

“Now, for how the next two years will unfold for you. Here at Durmstrang, we do not have a set curriculum. We believe in finding your strengths and developing them beyond the norm. Why waste time working on transfiguration if it is something you lack the gift in? No, the first two years will be spent identifying your strengths through rigorous examinations and assessing your aptitude for each of the subjects on offer. Of course, we encourage you to broaden your studies in your own time, but we will find where you thrive, and when your second terms is coming to an end, you will meet with your head of year to discuss your future education.”

Harry liked how the system worked here, and was eagerly anticipating what subjects he might do well in.

“Before I leave you, I would like to introduce Professor Sidorov who will be your head of year for the duration of your time here.”

The woman that stepped forward was tall and lithely built, silver-haired and with the most brilliant blue eyes that Harry had ever seen.

Although he was not really interested in females in any other way than friendship, he knew that she was beautiful, and judging by the way the other boys were staring, they thought so too.

He shook his head of the thought and frowned at the odd tingling that had overcome him.

“Impressive,” Sidorov acknowledged, eying him with curiosity. “It will become easier to ignore the effect the more time we spend together.”

Harry had no idea what the woman meant, and she offered him a smile.

“For those of you that haven’t figured it out yet, I am a veela,” she explained. “You will learn about my species in one of your magical creature lessons, but for now, please do not be alarmed by the magic you can feel. It will not harm you, and your body will eventually build an immunity to it. Some quicker than others,” she added, looking at Harry once more. “I am the Charms Professor here, and as Headmaster Karkaroff explained, I will be your Head of Year.”

“Thank you, Professor Sidorov,” Karkaroff interjected. “For the first two weeks here, you will be given an introduction to each of the subjects taught. The list is quite extensive, and you are expected to perform at your very best in every session. Firstly, you will follow Professor Sidorov for a charms lesson, and then she will take you on to the next. Any questions?”

No one raised their hands, something Karkaroff was seemingly pleased with as he nodded and took his leave of the hall.

“If you would all please follow me,” Sidorov requested.

The boys all but jumped to their feet and did so whilst some of the girls looked on confusedly at their behaviour.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Lucinda rolled her eyes.

“Veela have natural magic that is designed to draw the attention of the opposite sex,” she explained. “It can be quite a problem for those that have not been around it for long enough, but you seem to be getting used to it quickly.”

Harry frowned as he nodded.

“I can feel it,” he admitted, “but it’s not overwhelming.”

“It is for most,” Lucinda snorted. “Look at the idiots. I’m surprised most of them aren’t actually drooling.”

“I think Jonas might be,” Ana broke in amusedly.

Harry snorted and shook his head as he walked with the girls who were lagging behind the gawping boys.

“You should watch yourself with the purebloods, Harry,” Lucinda warned. “That stunt with the blood won’t endear you to them, and some of them are from very powerful families.”

Harry merely shrugged.

“I’m not here to make friends,” he replied simply. “I’m here so that I can deal with my enemies. If I make more on the way, then so be it, but I will never end up worse off than any of them, not again.”

The girl’s looked at each other questioningly, taken aback by Harry’s change of demeanour, though the opportunity to press him further never came as they arrived at the classroom for their first taste of a Durmstrang education.

(Break)

Pansy had been prepared to be sorted into Slytherin, having been groomed by her father for the house her family had been a part of for more generations than she could count.

She had even been prepared to deal with her housemates. She had met most of them, after all.

What she hadn’t been prepared for, however, was the fixation they would have on Harry and the fact that he had not arrived as many had been expecting.

Draco was the most vocal of the students, his theories as to why Harry wasn’t here only becoming more ridiculous.

“I bet he’s a squib!” the blonde declared gleefully. “The Dark Lord must have damaged him. That’s why no one has seen him.”

Some of her other housemates seemed to consider the notion. It was more plausible than him being taken in as an Unspeakable and trained to be a secret weapon for the Ministry, but he was still wrong, and Pansy snorted internally.

Why Draco was so fixated, she didn’t know, but it was becoming tiresome very quickly.

“You’re acting as though you wouldn’t have tried to befriend him,” Theo muttered amusedly. “I’m sure your father would have insisted on it.”

Draco nodded unashamedly.

“He did suggest it, but Potter isn’t here,” Draco pointed out. “He’s probably crying over his mudblood mother’s grave.”

He laughed as if he had made the most comical of jokes, and most of the others joined in.

If Harry was here, Draco would not make that kind of quip a second time, but as he had rightly said, he wasn’t, something that Pansy was still upset about.

She had been convinced Harry would come to Hogwarts, though she understood his reasoning for not.

Still, she couldn’t rid herself of the disappointment and hoped that whatever he was doing at Durmstrang, it would make him happy, and that she would still be welcomed to visit him during the summer.

He had been her first friend, and despite enjoying the company of most of her housemates, none of them were Harry.

(Break)

The first Charms lesson had been little more than a brief overview of how their time during the first two years under the tutelage of Professor Sidirov would be spent, with a rather impressive demonstration from the woman as a finale.

Harry knew he would enjoy those lessons, but he was not as certain with the Dark Arts under Professor Novak.

The man was almost as pale as Lucinda, and even had a similar shade of red eyes, though he was no vampire.

Harry had felt a sense of unease wash over him as he entered the room, his skin tingling as he did so.

He couldn’t be sure if it was Novak, or something else, but it was something he couldn’t ignore.

“The Dark Arts,” the man begun reverently, speaking just loud enough for his voice to carry across the room. “To truly master them, you must understand the nature of the magic, let it become a part of you. They are forever changing, never the same from one moment to the next. If they are not respected, they will either consume you or they will destroy you. If you can allow them to permeate within, they can be the greatest of allies.”

The students remained silent as Novak began pacing slowly back and forth, staring intently at a few before continuing.

“Not all of you will have an affinity for them, the willpower to keep the undesirable effects at bay, but those few of you that possess the potential to unlock the power of the magics will benefit greatly.”

The reverence had not left his tone, but it had also taken on an edge of warning.

“Nevertheless, for the next two years, you will undergo a journey to see if you have what it takes, and if you do not, you will at least gain enough understanding to combat them in a defensive manner. No, your time here will not be wasted,” he assured them. “Who can feel it?” he asked curiously.

The students looked at one another confusedly, but Harry raised his hand and Novak nodded.

“Find it,” he instructed.

Harry stood and followed the magic to the corner of the classroom where a cabinet rested, aware that all eyes were on him.

He paused as he reached the cabinet and held out his hand hesitatingly.

“What is it?”

The voice sounded in his ear.

Harry had not felt Novak following him, and he swallowed deeply as the magic of the cabinet pulsed against his consciousness.

“It wants me to touch it,” he whispered, “but it will harm me if I do.”

Novak smiled, but it was not a pleasant expression.

“What is it?” he repeated excitedly.

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

The magic felt familiar, though he was certain he had never felt anything like it, not even from his studies of the Black magic.

“It will burn the flesh away,” he answered, “but it can be stopped.”

Without considering what he was doing, he drew his wand and placed the tip against the cabinet.

In truth, he didn’t know what he was doing, but it felt almost instinctual, his own magic knowing how to combat what he faced.

After a moment, the cabinet crumbled to dust, and an unpleasant scream rent the air.

Harry didn’t realise that he had been sweating, but the voice of Novak pulled him from the haze that had overcome him, and he was distinctly aware of the chattering of the students.

“I did not expect that from any,” Novak whispered, “let alone you, Mr Potter. Who would have thought that such a beacon of light could possess such talent? Yes, your time here will be very interesting, indeed.”

Harry met the man’s surprised gaze before taking his seat.

Novak watched him with interest as he made his way back to the front of the classroom.

Harry felt nothing but confusion.

He didn’t know how he had done what he had, but he was pleased that the curse had been broken, nonetheless.

“Of course, we will cover the basics of the Dark Arts first,” Novak declared. “What are the most well-known curses widely considered to be of the branch?”

None raised their hands to answer.

“There are three spells in particular that the ICW deem to be unforgivable if used,” Novak hinted, emphasising the word ‘unforgivable.’

“The Imperius curse,” one of the purebloods answered.

“Correct,” Novak confirmed. “A dangerous curse in the wrong hands. Seizing control of someone’s mind is a deadly weapon, not just against the victim, but to any they come across. They can be used as a tool to murder or carry out any other act the caster wishes if the victim is unable to defend themselves from the effects. It is something we will look into further into your studies. Another one,” he requested.

“The torture curse,” Lucinda called.

Novak nodded.

“The Cruciatus curse,” he corrected. “Another unpleasant spell, one that will cause the victim so much pain that they will plead for death. Those held under it for a prolonged period can also have their minds irreparably broken and become nothing but a shell of themselves. A deeply unpleasant fate where you merely wait for your body to die so that your mind can be freed from its prison. The last?”

“The killing curse,” another pureblood called.

Novak nodded.

“Instant death,” he murmured. “Many a man, woman, and child have met their ends in such a way. A clean, and painless end for any that finds themselves the victim, their life snuffed in a mere second. Only one person is known to have survived it, something widely considered by any expert in the Dark Arts to be an impossibility.”

As he spoke, his gaze had shifted to Harry, flicking towards the scar on his forehead.

“Even this far north, your story is a famous one, Mr Potter,” he murmured. “The vanquisher of a Dark Lord before you could even hold a wand. Yours is already quite the story. Let us see how many more chapters we can add to it, shall we?”

Harry met the man’s stare as the others around him began to whisper amongst themselves.

He had hoped that what had happened between him and Voldemort had not become known so far from home, but that hope had evidently been in vain.

Novak knew of it, and even if Karkaroff hadn’t told him, Harry suspected the man would have heard of it.

It was Novak that broke his stare first, his eyes drifting towards the clock before offering Harry what he believed was a nod of acknowledgement.

“Until next time,” he called before disappearing through a door at the back of the classroom.

Harry immediately took hold of his bag and left the room, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The entire lesson had been quite the experience, and though he didn’t appreciate Novak revealing his past, he didn’t believe the man had done so maliciously.

If anything, it was likely to have been an act of kindness.

It would make the purebloods more cautious of attempting to bully or belittle him, or it may just have the opposite effect.

It mattered not to Harry.

“Wait!” a voice called as he made his way towards the main hall.

Harry paused to wait for the others to catch up.

“Did you really survive it?” Eleanor asked.

Harry nodded and each of them eyed him curiously.

“Voldemort,” Cain clarified. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

Cain released a deep breath.

“I heard Greyback speaking about it,” he explained. “We are a part of his pack, me and my parents,” he explained. “Not by choice, but for safety.”

“Why would he try to kill you?” Lucinda asked.

Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but he murdered my parents.”

The others offered him a look of sympathy and Harry shook his head.

He didn’t want sympathy, for anyone to feel sorrow for what he had endured.

“That’s what you meant about enemies, isn’t it?” Ana questioned. “He had followers.”

Harry nodded.

“I will return home to face them one day,” he explained. “They will not be pleased to see me, not when I was the cause for so many problems for them.”

“What will you do?” Jonas asked.

“I will live my life,” Harry answered. “I will serve as the head of my two families, and if any take exception to it, they will be more than welcome to raise their grievances with me.”

The others said nothing for a moment, taken aback once more by his shift in demeanour.

“You know, you’re quite scary, Harry,” Bruno chuckled. “Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you, especially now that you’re Novak’s favourite. I thought he was going to wet himself with excitement when you broke the cabinet. How did you do that, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. “I just did it.”

The others didn’t seem to believe him entirely, but they didn’t question him further.

“Come on, let’s get some lunch,” Ana urged. “We’ve got Transfiguration next.”

Harry followed the others as they made their way to the main hall, undecided if it was best his past had become known early on rather than later.

He remained unsure as he took a seat to eat his lunch but joined in the conversation with his classmates who did not mention anything that had happened in the Dark Arts classroom, but he could not ignore the curious looks they sent his way.

(Break)

Holding regular meetings was an integral part of the schooling at Durmstrang. The second years needed to be closely monitored and reported on so that decisions could be made as to what subjects they would be eligible to study from their third year onwards, and it was an opportunity for staff to raise any concerns they had observed.

The culture in the school was very much divided between the pureblood students and the others, and although Igor couldn’t care less if they occasionally collided, there were children here of some very influential figures across the wizarding world, and it would not do for the school to receive negative attention.

Life at Durmstrang was all about balance, about ensuring those students who would one day succeed their fathers felt that they were above the others, but not allowing excess unpleasantness to become rife.

“Our first years,” Igor began. “What do you think of them thus far?”

“They seem to be a bright group,” Sidirov replied. “The purebloods have of course been told what to expect, but the others did not seem perturbed by my expectations of them. I think when they have settled, we will have a much better grasp of where each of them are heading individually.”

Igor nodded his agreement.

“Dunbar?” he questioned the Transfiguration professor.

“Some already have a reasonable grasp of the fundamentals,” he explained. “I have seen nothing to suggest that there are any who will need to be excluded from the subject moving forward.”

Igor hummed as he turned his attention to the Dark Arts professor.

Novak was an odd man who openly admitted that he had made many mistakes during his pursuits throughout his life, but he was perhaps one of the best and most experienced practitioners of the Dark Arts in the world.

“I had a very interesting lesson with them,” the man answered quietly, though his eyes were alight with a spark of excitement. “The Potter boy is certainly a surprise.”

“Potter?” Igor asked suspiciously. “What has he done?”

“Nothing nefarious,” Novak assured him. “On the contrary, the boy is quite remarkable.”

Igor frowned and gestured for the pale professor to continue.

“He not only identified my curse, but he found and countered it,” Novak explained, “and he did so with skill, Igor. I believe the boy could be a natural in the arts, if only he has the mental capacity to succeed.”

Igor nodded thoughtfully.

“He is a curious boy,” he murmured. “The only person to survive the killing curse…”

“And seems to have the ability to wield much more dangerous and evocative magic,” Novak interjected. “He is quite the enigma, no?”

Igor hummed.

“What are everyone else’s thoughts on the boy?”

“He managed to resist my allure almost immediately,” Sidirov answered. “I seemed to have little effect on him at first, and then he shook it off as though it was nothing. It is quite impressive.”

“Impressive indeed,” Igor acknowledged. “I would like him watched closely during his lessons,” he instructed. “There seems to be much potential there, and I would see how far he can be pushed.”

“Why?” Sidirov asked, a frown marring her features.

“Because even before he could speak a full sentence, he became the downfall of the most powerful wizard I have ever met, and all of these little things you have mentioned do not strike me as coincidences. Potter could be an exceedingly powerful wizard and would be quite the man to boast of if his talents are nurtured.”

“It will draw some unwanted attention to him from some of the purebloods that will not take kindly to him succeeding.”

Igor snorted as he shook his head.

“Some of the purebloods will one day ascend to lofty heights,” he conceded, “but Harry Potter is already there, and will ascend only further. I have it on good authority that he is to inherit the titles of Lord Potter, his birth right of course, and Lord Black, two exceedingly prominent positions in wizarding Britain.”

“Whose authority?” Sidirov asked curiously.

“Mine,” Igor answered simply. “I do not believe the infamous Cassiopeia Black is choosing to raise the boy out of the goodness of her heart, is she?”

“Black?” Sidirov gasped.

“It is her who wrote to me to give the boy a tour a little over a year ago,” he explained. “It is not common knowledge that he is living with her.”

“There will be many that do not like that,” Novak pointed out. “Many still remember what she did during the Grindelwald years.”

“Then we keep the knowledge to ourselves unless it proves to be to our advantage to make it known,” Igor decided, “but for now, I wish to see just what Potter is truly capable of. Push him, but do not break him. Olaffson, I’d like you to do the same. I want him durable and resilient.”

The enormous Icelandic man grunted and nodded his understanding.

Olaffson was in charge of the physical activities that the students could choose to take part in; Quidditch, self-defence, and fitness for magic were his forte.

Igor was truly interested to see what Potter would become throughout his time here. If Novak was taking a keen interest in the boy, he undoubtedly had potential, that coupled with everything else that seemed to be happening around the boy suggested that he would indeed become quite the formidable wizard.

If he could endure and overcome the adversity he would undoubtedly face in the coming years.

(Break)

It had been an interesting first day for Harry, but he was pleased that it had finally come to an end, and he could simply enjoy some time to relax in the common room with the other first years he had been housed with.

Durmstrang was already proving to be more than he had anticipated, but what had become clear immediately was that his journey here would very much depend on how he performed in each of his lessons for the first two years.

How much help he would get from the professors seemed to depend on that.

Still, he was focused, determined to succeed, and ensure that he was in a position to see an end to his goals in the future.

“Did you really survive the killing curse?” Cain asked, pulling Harry from his thoughts.

His peers had been shooting his questioning glances for much of the day, and Harry knew that it was inevitable that they would soon be unable to hold their tongues.

He nodded as he released a deep breath.

“Voldemort murdered my parents and tried to do the same to me. He failed,” he finished with a shrug.

“Damn,” Cain whispered. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

The others nodded.

“How did you survive?” Lucinda pressed.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. “I don’t know if I will ever understand it, but I’m here, and he isn’t.”

‘For now,’ he added internally.

His classmates seemed disappointed with his explanation, almost as though they were expecting an incredible story in which an infant Harry had somehow managed to overpower the Dark Lord.

It had been nothing of the sort, and more likely nothing more than a fortuitous encounter in his favour.

Not that Harry could rely on such things in the future.

He could not hope that his enemies would somehow destroy themselves.

No, Harry would need to do that off his own merit and ability.

“What about what happened in Dark Arts?” Ana questioned.

Once more, Harry did not have an explanation to give.

He had felt the magic upon entering the room and had even been able to identify what it was despite never having encountered it, not that he knew of at least.

However, it definitely felt familiar, and it was almost as though his own magic was guiding him in how to eradicate the curse.

It was a confusing experience, and frustrating that he didn’t quite understand how he had done what he had.

“I don’t know,” he answered again.

Before his housemates could voice their disappointment in his explanation, a tap on the window interrupted the conversation.

“Callidora!” Harry said enthusiastically, greeting Cassie’s bird as he opened the window to admit her. “What have you got for me girl?”

He relieved the owl of her burden, a note penned in Cassiopeia’s familiar scroll, and a roll of parchment that had been sealed.

Harry,

I hope your first day has been everything you wanted it to be.

The scroll is from a friend of mine who attended Durmstrang some years ago.

I would urge you to keep the contents to yourself.

The house is quiet without.

Cassie

Harry smiled.

Although she wouldn’t openly admit it, the woman missed him, and he felt a sudden wave of homesickness wash over him.

He missed Cassie too, but he turned his attention to scroll before tapping it with his wand.

His smile widened as he read the unfamiliar handwriting.

Durmstrang had already been interesting, but with the knowledge he had just been handed, it had only become more so, and he was already looking forward to investigating the school with the help of someone who had already done so.