Henrick Hanz and the Demon of Durmstrang

Chapter 2

Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning was a place veiled in secrecy. It was said that only those who went there knew of it’s true location. It was left to the graduates of the school to perpetuate the false information that surrounded it’s whereabouts. Had others known the castle had been in plain sight for over 700 years, they probably could have killed themselves…After of course, sacking said castle. Most rumors pointed far to the north. However, every year, the shores of the massive, flowing Danube would see a fog like none other. It would reach up and up, until it touched a very heavily forest hilltop. The hill was actually a part of a small mountain chain that extended beyond the horizon. Atop the fill, for all to see, sat a relic from time long passed. The ancient fortress that had once imprisoned Richard the Lionhearted now sat crumbling, with only the overgrown vegetation keeping the castle from collapsing all together.

To those trained too see through the powerful magical charm however, the castle was much different. It was always humorous to hear the first year students, all still untrained to see through the illusion, lament about the conditions of the castle. Even Henrick had when he had first approached the ruins at the tender age of eleven. Now, it was all too easy for him to see what it truly was. Spiraling black ramparts and thick, impenetrable walls towered far above. From each of four turrets flew the crimson banner of Durmstrang, each emblazoned with it’s fearsome crest. The crest was also sewn upon the left breast of his school uniform. The golden double headed eagle perched over the antler adorned skull of a deer seemed to indicate just what sort of magical school this was. And this year, his crest would magically alter to a green background the moment he stepped foot past those doors.

There were no houses at Durmstrang to separate students. But as there were no houses, years had to be designated by the color of their crests. First years were white, but with each successive year, the color grew darker, until seventh year, when the crest changed a final time to the bloodstained red that was the school’s signature color. But as there were no houses, competition was between all students. Competition was based off of points, though Hanz had no idea how the Headmaster kept such a large count correctly. At the end of the year, the student with the most points was honored. The student with the least…they were usually never seen again at that school. Since his first year, when his crest had been of the purest white, there had been not one year that the competition had gone to anyone but Victor Krumm.

Classes were done different than most wizarding schools as well. The roster was alphabetic. Half the first years would attend one class, tile the other half took another. This lightened the load for the professors until sixth year. This would be Henrick’s last year with his half of the alphabet. Next year, he would have to decide for himself upon a schedule of classes that would befit the job he wanted to try for after he graduated. Not that he had much choice. He knew what he wanted, but he could not get it. He would just hope that he was lucky and that the path his parents had designated for him would lead him towards his own goals.

This year, it was not the headmaster that waited for the students in the huge front hall. The long tables would soon be laden with food. Much of the time it came from a student’s personal house elf. The elves were often shipped with the luggage so that each student would only get the meals they deserted. As Henrick owned no house elf, he received all manner of things to eat. It was wonderful. But right now, tables were just being filled with bodies.

They filled rather quickly, and done in a chaotic hierarchy. The table closest to the table on the dais where the professors sat was the “royal table”. It was reserved for the most popular students. It sat empty except for one magically moving photograph.

“Yuck! What bad taste!” He almost didn’t hear the voice next to him, shrill as it might be. He was too focused on getting his usual table, so that he could sit and eat sooner. It was only when Fiona repeated her words did he notice he was being spoken to.

Henrick’s eyes traveled to the portrait that has been put in such a place of honor. “It should be burnt.” He agreed. “Efen vhen he is not here, he is here. As least his fans are not veering black armbands.” he was soon corrected with the arrival of a second year girl. She carefully adjusted the picture of Krumm before adjusting the armband of mourning and joining a table close by that was filled with girls of all ages, each one already sighing as if the world had ended.

“I am sitting down before I get sick.” His usual seat places him firmly with his back to the royal table and his eyes fixed to the farthest table in the hall. There, the most unpopular and unwanted souls say. He did like to keep an eye on his adopted brother, just in case. Last thing he wanted was for someone to start spewing asps due to an ancient Egyptian curse that the ones that small boy knew. He wanted to at least wait a month before everything went to hell, as it always seemed to do.

Moments after everyone was seated, a professor stood to address the students. She was so old that the woman stopped like a giant shrimp. She stood on a stool so that her hideously ugly face could peer over the top of the podium. Brunhilda Massengruber was bent and twisted and ugly beyond comprehension. Her massive nose even had one enormous wart. She smelled terrible, of rotting flesh and eons spent bathing in the noxious fumes of her potions class. Behind her back, most the Russian students called her Baba Yaga, after the horrid witch in the fairy stories. She even made Hanz cringe when her filmy eyes swept past him as she regarded every student in the hall.

“Hello and welcome to another year.” Her voice made the skin crawl. Hanz was certain that the entire student body had collectively squirmed in their seats at the sound. “As you know, we will be short some of our better students this year. As such, I expect each and every one of you to step up and prove that you are worthy of staying at this school. I will be your interim headmistress until the true one returns, and I will report to him daily. So I expect the same respect as you give him. Also, I will be appointing new head students to replace those who have left. Their eyes are mine. Their voice, my voice.”

“Ugly, half blind, and like a dying cat.” A voice next to him muttered. He tried to hush Fiona before she was heard. The woman at the front of the hall had freakishly sharp ears for a woman her age.

“Miss Dupan, the headmistress’s office after the meal to discuss your cheek!” The students around them snickered and Henrick dropped his head. Sometimes, he wished his friend would just keep her mouth shut. The girl also hung her head as the old woman continued where she had left off.

“As usual, the rules are as follows. Third year and below are not allowed into the village at the base of the castle. There is also to be no contact of any sort with the muggles.” The word was said with an acrid hate. It was well known that Durmstrang only taught the purest of the pureblood wizard. There was not a half-blood filling the seats. The muggles and muggle-born wizards were considered less than garbage. It was a sentiment held by staff and student body alike for the most part. There had been numerous incidents in the past when a student would go to the neighboring town and torment the muggles who lived there. “Also, do remember that the use of magic to torture or harm other students is strictly forbidden…so don’t get caught.”

“Finally, remember that the area of the forest beyond the back gate used for the survival challenge is off-limits. We will not be having it this year. Any student caught past the barriers will be expelled.” There was a chorus of groans and complaints. The challenge was a test every student took at the end of their fifth year. The course was a gauntlet of different situations. Quite like the OWLs tested a student, it used a different method to rate the skills of each individual. It was particularly rough because students used the course to attack their enemies and rivals. In fact, some of the older students would return to that place to continually test their growth. Sometimes, the unthinkable happened, and a younger student would wonder out into those dark woods. It was never a pretty sight when they were found. He had been looking forward to the challenge. Now he wondered just how he and his fellow fifths would be tested at the end of the year. Would they have to take OWLs like the other wizard schools did?

“Just conduct yourself in a manner befitting those in your status as the best of the wizarding world. I expect this to be a good year. Now, let us celebrate the start of our new school year.” Gnarled, stained hands rapped upon the podium loudly and the tables were suddenly filled with food and drink.

The tables erupted into energetic voices as dinner finally started. The part of the table where the silver haired student sat remained silent for a moment. In that short period of time, the German had already filled his plate with a mountain of food. Once he started eating, there would be no getting his to speak until his plate was empty. Then the conversation would only last for as long as it took for him to refill his plate. Not that it mattered to the girl who had been chastised in front of the entire school.

“I can’t believe that old hag heard me from way back here! Can you believe that?” There was no answer except or the sound of fork and knife upon the huge boy’s plate. “The nerve of that woman! Calling me out in front of everyone like that. I ought to give her a piece of my mind!” Others around the table seemed to cheer her on. A table away, Burkov was also watching as the girl went on.

Hanz didn’t think doing so would sin her any points. He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t think he should have to. Besides, he knew that regardless of her words, she’d do nothing to jeopardize her standing at the school. He just nodded at whatever she said and continued with his dinner. Even if his nodding usually put him into awkward positions. He really needed to learn to stop doing it. “You’ll wait in the common area to help be move in after.” It was not a request. Hanz nodded anyway. He was already stuck in the ‘yes dear, whatever you say’ mode to really know what he was agreeing to.

It was only after his fourth serving had suddenly combust into flame from a spell cast somewhere behind him that he broke from the habit for a moment. His meal interrupted, he turned to see where the spell had come from. One table away, Burkov was putting away his wand with a smug look upon his face. There was no way the professors had not seen. Yet, as always, they turned a blind eye. In Durmstrang, it was every man for himself. And this year was just like the one before it. Henrick sighed and got himself new, non-burnt food.