A Cold Welcoming

Location Unknown, (Jan. 11 th )...

Harry had used Portkeys before, so he thought he knew what to expect. While there was the typical jerk behind the naval as soon as the Portkey activated, he was not instantly deposited at his location like most of the Portkeys Professor Dumbledore had made for his family over the years. Instead, Harry was spun around in a swirling vortex for what seemed like several minutes. Harry was just starting to get dizzy from spinning around in circles when he felt his feet abruptly smash into the earth.

Harry hadn't fallen from a Portkey in years, and his experience with how to properly land was the only thing that saved him from collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Two things immediately assaulted Harry's senses the moment he landed. The first was that it was dark. If Durmstrang wasn't known to be somewhere in Europe, Harry would have sworn that he had traveled to the complete other side of the globe. He had left his home at ten in the morning, and it looked like the middle of the night where he had arrived. Looking up at the stars, Harry could perfectly see several constellations, and the only hint of light came from a faint reddish glow in the distance.

Knowing that he must be very far up north, Harry's senses quickly alerted him to something else. It was very cold. A sudden gust of wind kicked up, and Harry nearly screamed at the bone chilling rush of cold air. Cursing himself for not putting on the heavy furs he had been instructed to buy at Madam Malkins, Harry cast a warming charm, however, not even that was enough to completely keep out the cold. Desperately, Harry looked around for the Professor that was supposed to be meeting him.

"Impressive," commented a man with a Slavic accent, "I had thought you vould fall like the rest of your countrymen. You haff much practice with Portkey travel, Potter?"

Harry turned in the direction of the voice, but he could only make out the slightest hint of a person standing in the darkness. Slowly, Harry's eyes began to adjust, and the speaker came into view. It was a fairly tall, yet thin, man dressed in very thick red robes. He had long dark hair that reached down from beyond a heavy fur hat, and a pair of cold dark eyes that didn't look like they belonged to anyone who ever smiled.

"A little, sir," Harry replied in German.

"Ah, you haff come prepared," the man replied, flawlessly switching to German. "That is good. I am Dominique Grausam, your instructor for the Dark Arts. Now, you follow me."

Harry nodded and began to follow his Professor down an icy path that seemed to wind through the snow around them. As they walked, Harry did his best to ignore the temperature by surveying the landscape around him. The dim light made it difficult to see very far, but Harry was fairly certain that he could make out mountains in the distance.

"Sir," Harry said, testing out his German. "It cold much here. No?"

Professor Grausam glared at Harry before saying, "You need more time vith the language charm, Potter. That vos some of the most disgusting German I haff ever heard. Say in English if you are not able to speak decent German. At least then I do not feel the desire to hit you vhen you speak."

Harry couldn't stop his face from flushing in embarrassment. "It's a lot colder than I expected, sir."

"You are stupid, Potter," Grausem said mockingly, "Do you think ve tell you to buy heavy coat for fun?"

"Where are we, sir?" Harry tried to keep his voice respectful, but between the cold and his professors attitude, he was growing very impatient.

"Ve are in the Kautokeino province."

Harry stopped walking and looked at his professor in complete confusion. "Where?"

"Norway you stupid boy. Ve are in Northern Norway."

Surprised, Harry asked, "Sir, if we are in Norway, why did I need to learn German?"

Grausam sneered. "If everyone thinks that Durmstrang is somevhere traditionally German speaking, they don't look for school here."

Harry slowly thought out that logic. It actually made a lot of sense if you were seriously that paranoid.

"You vill get your first look at the castle soon."

Reaching the top of a large hill, Harry's mouth dropped open at the view. The reason for the reddish glow he had noticed earlier became all too apparent when he saw a massive row of torches that illuminated the road ahead. The path stretched for about a half a mile until it dead-ended into an intimidating four-story castle that stood out amongst the barren, snow-filled, terrain. In fact, with the exception of a nearby Quidditch stadium, Durmstrang was the only landmark that Harry could see anywhere.

"Umm...wow." Harry tried to hide his disgust at the uninspired looking fortress in the distance. While Hogwarts had a welcoming and majestic appearance, Durmstrang looked like it was built to withstand a siege. Large outer-walls defended the building and the interior structure had no impressive towers or monuments. Since it was smaller than Hogwarts, Durmstrang covered a much larger portion of ground and seemed to stretch for some distance. However, nowhere was Harry able to see any discernible change in architecture or design. In fact, Durmstrang appeared almost block-like. Trying to think of something to say, Harry simply muttered, "Ugh, are there wards?"

"Ja." Grausam sent a look of disgust at Harry for his unenthusiastic response at first seeing the school. "Ve are unplottable, and the Muggles think that this area is uninhabitable."

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop from telling his new professor that the Muggles had it right, and that this area should be uninhabitable. The remaining walk to the school was done in silence, and Harry got the impression that Grausam really did not like him. Wisely, Harry kept his thoughts to himself. It wouldn't reflect well on himself by antagonizing a Professor on his first day at a new school.

As they entered the school, Grausam led Harry through a series of dark corridors. Unlike Hogwarts, Durmstrang did not have magical portraits hanging from its walls, nor did Durmstrang have the inviting feeling Harry had felt when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Durmstrang's corridors were lined with very formidable looking suits of armor, all of which were clutching some sort of dangerous looking weapons, and stone depictions of various magical creatures. The only lighting seemed to come from a series of torches on the walls, and these torches did nothing to provide any heat to the drafty corridors.

"That is the main hall," Grausam said gesturing to a pair of large, gold, double-doors to the right of them. "Velcoming feast is in an hour. You must be in attendance."

"Yes, sir."

"Make sure you cast language charm on yourself." Grausam instructed as Harry followed the man up an impressive central staircase. "German vill be used at all times, no exceptions. Using other language is punished by vhipping." Harry swallowed nervously, but Grausam seemed to ignore him as he continued talking. "Classes are on the first, second, and third floors. Student quarters are on the fourth. I take you to your room now."

"I get my own room?" Harry asked excitedly.

Grausam simply sneered in response to the question, and Harry had to struggle to keep up with the man's purposefully long steps. As they reached the fourth floor, Harry saw several older students speaking in rapid German with one another at the top of the staircase.

"You are blocking the stairs," Grausam snapped in German, causing the group of older students to quickly disperse. "Potter, girls' rooms are to the right of the staircase, boys' rooms on the left. Rooms are alphabetical, password for your room is transfer, be in the Main Hall in one hour for velcome feast." The Dark Arts Professor gave Harry a final look of disgust before turning on his heel and going back down the stairs, leaving Harry to find his room.

With a sigh, Harry took a left and began walking down the long corridor. As he walked, he briefly glanced at some of the names on the doors, which were written in fire on top of each doorway. Most of the names seemed to hint at a Slavic and Germanic ancestry, and Harry was actually pleased that he didn't recognize any of them. If there weren't a lot of English students, maybe he wouldn't have to put up with a lot of questions about his brother.

After a few minutes of walking down the corridor, Harry had come to the conclusion that alphabetizing rooms by last name was great if your last name started with A, B, or C, but for everyone else it was a pain in the ass. At least the person who thought of alphabetizing the rooms was smart enough to periodically put bathrooms in the long corridor. Harry couldn't imagine the pain it would be to walk down the massive hallway every time he needed to use the loo or shower. Eventually, Harry reached a door that had the word "Potter" above it.

"Transfer," he mumbled. The lock clicked and Harry pushed the door open. Any joy that Harry had at having his own room disappeared instantly. This wasn't a room; it was a prison cell! The room consisted of a single cot pressed up against the right wall, a desk against the left wall, and a wardrobe against the back wall. There was a small window that looked only just big enough for an owl to squeeze through next to the wardrobe. The room couldn't have been twelve feet deep and ten feet across, and it was freezing cold. With a groan of frustration, Harry levitated his trunk to the ground and busily began unpacking his things.

Far sooner than Harry expected, it was time for him to begin making his way down to the Main Hall for the welcoming feast. Casting the language charm that Professor Dumbledore had taught him, Harry departed his room and joined the mass of students who were making their way down the stairs, presumably heading to the Main Hall.

Harry tried to listen in on some conversations as he followed the crowd of students into the Main Hall, but found that his German was still not all that great. While he recognized several words, the speed the language was being spoken at was still too much for him.

Entering the Main Hall, Harry's first impression was to roll his eyes. Several long tables lined the hall, much like Hogwarts; however, the staff table at the front of the hall was elevated slightly, demonstrating a symbolic message that the staff was superior to the students and would look down upon them. In the center of the staff table, sitting in a large, almost throne-like, chair was the Highmaster. Karkaroff was laughing at something one of his professors had told him, and Harry could make out the man's distinctly yellow teeth.

Quirrell had told him that the seating for the Professors at Durmstrang were based on their tenure, importance, and favor they held with the Highmaster, who basically ran the school as his own private kingdom. Spotting Grausam sitting near the far left of the table, considerably far from the Highmaster, Harry was secretly pleased to see that the grumpy Dark Arts teacher wasn't exactly high up in the Durmstrang pecking order.

Taking a seat near the middle of one of the tables, Harry watched as the hall slowly filled up with students. A few older students looked curiously at him before ultimately deciding to ignore him and go about their conversations.

Once everyone seemed to be seated, Karkaroff stood and immediately the hall fell silent. Harry was slightly impressed, the only person he had seen quiet a room that quickly was Dumbledore. "I have two announcements to make before we begin the feast," Karkaroff began. "We have a new student this term. Raise your glasses and welcome Harry Potter to Durmstrang."

As one, everyone seemed to raise their empty golden goblets in front of them and said, "Harry Potter," but immediately after the glasses were put down several mummers of conversation could be heard around the hall.

"Mr. Potter has come from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain, and being..." Harry couldn't place the word Karkaroff said. "...and his excellent academic scores, he was deemed acceptable ... standards."

Most of the rumblings going on around the hall seemed to quell after Karkaroff's words, clearly whatever the Highmaster had said seemed to be accepted by most of the students. "My second announcement is that due to the excessive ... that happened last fall. Using offensive magic in the corridors is punishable by … and two days of … now."

Harry was frustrated that he couldn't understand what Karkaroff was saying, however, judging from the utter silence and the look of shock on several people's faces, the students were clearly uncomfortable with whatever the punishment was. Harry felt the tiniest bit of apprehension as he reminded himself that Durmstrang was not like Hogwarts, and he did not want to get into any trouble.

"Now that the announcements have been taken care of, let the feast begin!" Karkaroff decreed, causing plates full of food to appear along the tables.

As Harry put some mash potatoes onto his plate, he noticed several students, who couldn't have been much older than himself, sending dark glances in his direction. When one of them met his eyes and mouthed 'half-blood' before spitting on the ground in disgust, Harry felt a surge of resentment. He had hoped that Durmstrang would have been different.