DISCLAIMER: The following stories are based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Note: This is a HP/LV fic. The slash part won't happen until much later, though. The story will primarily focus on adventure/suspense and what it means to be a lord and leader of a group. There will be no mpreg or creature inheritance stuff, no godlike powers, countless pets etc. As for the timeline issue. Everything up until Harry's introduction to the wizarding world happened in this fic as well, meaning prophecies, Horcruxes, Grindeldore and all that jazz.

HP/LV dynamic: For those of you who are interested, I'm going to explore HP/LV as equals. Harry will definitely grow up to be unique in his own right, magically capable to stand his ground, although there will be major differences between him and Voldemort in terms of ideals, morals and what they envision for the future of the wizarding world. Harry will like both the dark and the light side, so no old-fashioned Dark Lordish tendencies for him. Still, there will be people pressuring him constantly.

I hope you enjoy it :) Btw, And it's not gonna be a short story. Just a warning.

Chapter 1: A New World

Heavy footsteps echoed off the pavement as a young boy ran across the street in the middle of the night. With nothing but his cousin's old clothes on his body, Harry Potter pelted across Magnolia Road, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and his family.

He was a bit concerned that someone might have witnessed his abrupt departure. But those problems could be sorted out later. Though, it was somewhat strange for a 10 years old boy to be alone at such an hour, he couldn't allow himself to think about that.

Gasping for air, Harry continued to run, a pain in his side making it difficult to keep going. But he had to. Harry glanced up briefly and wondered whether that old, doddering woman Mrs. Figg would follow him or not.

It used to be a strange hobby of hers. Watching him. She had always kept an eye on him for some reason or another and it bothered him to this day that he hadn't figured out why. Harry couldn't dwell on the past, though, as he resolutely made his way towards freedom.

He eventually slowed down a bit when he reached the station.

Finally.

The bespectacled boy made sure that no one was following him, before making his way over to the platform. Not many people would be out at this time, and really, the only people waiting to catch the next train were a bunch of rowdy teenagers. Harry glanced warily at the spot where he could see them laughing and shoving each other playfully.

'Must be drunk,' Harry thought, taking in the group of 5 or so people. He glanced around and noticed that no one else was there.

He tried not to think about the fact that he'd have no one to take care of him from now on. It didn't really help that he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself; and while he was certain that the Dursleys wouldn't report him to the authorities, it was too risky trying to contact any child services for that matter.

'I didn't really think this through, did I?' Harry ran his fingers through black, messy hair, absently noticing that one of the girls from the group was slowly making her way over to him. The others either didn't notice or didn't seem to care much.

He really wasn't in the mood for a chat with strangers, but apparently the girl wasn't deterred at all, stumbling towards him.

"And what is a little boy like you doing here all by himself?" She grinned and Harry took in her appearance. Her make-up didn't really help covering red-rimmed eyes and dry lips. Her hair was lanky and as she got closer, Harry could smell what he guessed was Whiskey on her. His uncle Vernon used to smell like that whenever he'd been in a particularly bad mood. It was just as disgusting.

He didn't dignify her observation with a comment, instead turning away from her and checking his pockets, making sure that he'd had some money on him. The only foresight Harry has had for this disaster trip was to steal Dudley's lunch money earlier that day.

"Planning to escape, are you, Potter?" the girl asked again, surprising Harry.

"How do you know me?" He glanced at her, taking in the way she was biting her lips. She chuckled in response.

"I recognized you immediately. You're the boy little Dudley Dursley likes to torment at school. Always bragging about beating up the criminal from St Brutus," she trailed off. Harry rolled his eyes, tired of hearing about his aunt's cover story and all the crap that came with it. She used to tell the neighbors that he had gotten the necessary re-education, always coming up with an excuse not to let Harry out of the house too much, in case his "weirdness" and freak behavior would be displayed for all to see. Only during the summer breaks was he allowed to spend more time outside, mostly occupying himself with gardening.

It had been another step to isolate him, which is why he'd never made any friends in school.

Harry didn't like to admit it, much less to himself, but he felt lonely.

"You don't even look like you could harm a fly, though. It's quite obvious that your entire family is full of shit," the teenager exclaimed, eagerly observing Harry's reaction.

"Look, I'm tired. So why don't you go back to your friends?" The boy glared, trying to cut her off.

"They can live without me," she paused. " But you on the other hand need my help." Satisfied with her logic, the drunken girl suddenly pulled out a wad of cash and without further ado, she reached for Harry and put it in his jacket pocket. "There, now you should be fine for at least a couple of days."

Harry couldn't quite stifle his reaction. "What the hell...?" He made a move to return the money, but the intoxicated girl grasped his wrist with surprising strength.

"Take it, Potter." She smiled enigmatically. "You need it more than I do, and I know exactly what it's like to run away from a family that doesn't give a shit."

"Hey, Amy. What are you doing?" someone shouted from the distance. Harry stared at her, not quite sure what to make of this bizarre statement. To be honest, he wasn't all that knowledgable about people and what they did in these situations. Any form of kindness was usually met with suspicion on his part simply because he didn't know better. And he didn't want to come across as someone's charity case.

In the end, he left it at that and simply nodded. The girl, Amy turned around and for a moment she looked surprisingly lucid.

"I have a feeling you'll do great," she explained. "Harry Potter, resident, criminal boy destined for greatness!" And with a cheerful goodbye and a last indecipherable look she returned back to her group of friends, leaving him confused and somewhat apprehensive.

Harry tried to shake off that weird feeling he sometimes got when something strange yet memorable happened.

The next train to Central London arrived, and Harry immediately went to look for a decent compartment. To his surprise, the drunk teenagers didn't board the train, choosing to simply leave the station after a while. He tried not to think about the girl too much.

He took a seat somewhere in the back, ignoring the old man who was sitting nearby, snoring softly. His thoughts turned self-deprecating and Harry grimaced, thinking that no matter what happened from now on, it surely couldn't get worse than his previous home life. He made himself comfortable and contemplated what to do.

He had two options now. He could simply try finding an appropriate night shelter or live on the streets. Neither was preferable, but calling the police or getting himself checked into a hospital was not a risk he'd like to take. With a quick glance at Vernon's old watch Harry had stolen earlier this day, he calculated the time before arrival. He hoped the Dursleys would be asleep by now.

Harry leaned back, his gaunt reflection in the window revealing just how exhausted and anxious he was. Shifting a bit, he nervously tapped his finger against the armrest. Tired, green eyes took in his surroundings.

Nothing caught his attention and he allowed himself to relax for a minute.

His instincts however were telling him that something was wrong.

The old man he'd seen earlier was calmly reading a book. Odd.

Hadn't he been asleep just moments ago?

Harry narrowed his eyes, taking in the harsh features more closely. His ridiculous looking but neatly trimmed goatee was just one peculiarity. The old man was wearing a silver coat, or maybe a...robe. And was that fur on his collar? In the middle of summer...?

His blue eyes were unfocused, unseeingly fixed on the pages. Which meant that the man was just as aware of his surroundings as the young boy was.

Harry had always made it his business to stay alert in case there was danger. Life at the Dursleys had been somewhat like living on egg-shells, focusing on whatever moment of peace you could get.

Trying not to stare too much, Harry fiddled with a loose thread of his jacket to distract himself. He checked his watch again and almost groaned. Only 5 minutes have passed since leaving Little Whinging.

He was about to look outside the window, when suddenly he felt the air shifting and static-like energy enveloping him like a cloak. Before he had time to process this feeling or make sense of it, a hand grabbed his neck harshly, pulling him forward. Harry gasped, struggling to get free, but he was helpless.

The odd looking man was standing right in front of him and without warning another hand brushed his dark bangs away from his forehead.

Steel-blue eyes were fixed on the spot above his eyebrow and Harry knew that his old, lighting-shaped scar was what appeared so interesting to the stranger.

"What..." Harry struggled again, but the man shushed him, pulling him even closer.

A mad grin revealed yellow teeth and Harry flinched, averting his gaze. It didn't really help much, because the man was suddenly chucking delightedly, his stale breath almost making the younger boy gag.

"Oh, today is my lucky day," the man whispered with a strong accent, turning Harry's face a bit to inspect the scar from another angle.

"I was minding my own business, enjoying my stay here when suddenly I find myself confronted with a handful of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived." The weirdo was positively gleeful at this point.

"So many choices, so many opportunities..." He let go of Harry's neck, rubbing his hands together. Harry reeled back in shock, looking around for help. But no one was there.

"Oh no, you can't escape this, boy. We'll go on a nice journey, you and I." Without further ado he made a grab for Harry's arm, roughly pulling him out of his position. With another move he grabbed a silver necklace that had been hidden under his robes. "I really didn't want to use this, but we can call it an emergency, I guess."

The batty, old man continued mumbling something, words like 'Portkeys' and 'ministry issues' coming up, but Harry saw his chance and made another effort to get away.

A loud crash from somewhere else temporarily distracted both of them and now Harry could make out more than one voice. "Help-," he cried out, but the hand was back, covering his mouth. He was roughly pulled back against a tall, thin body.

"Did you hear that?" a male voice cut through the silence. Another crash, and someone was screaming.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Obliviate," another person yelled. "Dung, you totally screwed up, you know that, right?"

"Nevermind. Potter's definitely here. The trace worked perfectly."

Footsteps were approaching their compartment, but before they could reach them, the old man whispered something in his ear.

"Of course, the great savior of the wizarding world needs his entourage, but I'm afraid it's too late for that." The hand quickly grabbed his smaller one and with a single touch to the object hanging from the necklace both people were transported away from their location. To Harry it felt like a pull somewhere behind his navel, but he didn't have much time to focus.

He had now officially been kidnapped. That was a first, even for him.

A group of people dressed in similar robes as the old man stumbled into the compartment, a moment too late.

The first thing Harry experienced was a sharp pain shooting through his back after landing ungracefully on a cold, muddy surface. The next thing he felt was panic.

His companion aka kidnapper didn't appear ruffled at all, merely shooting the young boy a disdainful look for a moment.

He tried to understand what just happened. It wasn't an everyday occurrence to be transported from one place to another, although Harry did remember that one time he suddenly appeared on his school's roof. Another event in a long list of strange ones.

Getting rid of the nausea and dizziness that had almost made him want to throw up on the man's shiny, black boots took enormous effort. Harry got up with some difficulties, though.

His head was pounding and he felt his heartbeat accelerate, thinking that whatever happened would end in murder. The old man decided to break the silence.

"You were followed."

Harry couldn't make sense of that statement, but played along. "If you're referring to your friends making a ruckus back there, you're probably right." He paused, catching his breath. "I don't know these guys and I don't know you, so what's to say you weren't following me as well?" Green eyes narrowed in suspicion, looking for signs that there was some conspiracy at work, something that would make more sense.

He got a smirk in response.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't go looking around for the wizarding world's hero and those people following you are certainly not my...friends" the man sneered, making a move to leave.

"Wizarding world..." Harry mumbled, trying to calm down and forcing himself to think about this more rationally. He couldn't identify their current location, but it was definitely much colder. Going by the scent, he could detect that there was a river or possibly a lake nearby. The air was humid and they appeared to be in the middle of a forest. If that man planned to do something, there would be no one around to witness it.

The old man halted, throwing him another look and taking in Harry's clothes and general unkept appearance. Something in his expression told the boy that another mystery has been solved.

And then the man started to laugh.

"This is absolutely priceless," he broke out between gasps. "Too good to be true. Oh, if the public finds out about this..."

"You don't make any sense, so if you want to kill me or whatever just do it!" Harry interrupted forcefully, balling his fists and preparing himself. He was tired of being in the dark about everything.

"Kill you? Why would I do that?" The man suddenly grabbed his upper arm with surprising force and dragged him along.

"I don't know, alright. Let me go." Harry's struggles were in vain. He stumbled across the pathway, stones and branches digging painfully into his sneakers.

"We will talk after crossing the wards, boy. We aren't safe yet and you never know who might overhear certain things," the older man explained.

"Will you at least bother to tell me your name?" Harry forced out, not wanting to lose what dignity he had left. This situation was ridiculous as is.

"Certainly." The man grinned sharply, shooting him another look.

"Igor Karkaroff. To you it's headmaster or sir."

And with that they continued on their way, leaving the darkness of the forest. After a short walk which was spent in silence, they must have reached their destination. Harry looked up, about to demand another explanation when he caught sight of the building in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise.

It wasn't a building but a medieval castle with narrow windows and an archway. A huge court yard covered the whole area and there was also what looked to be a pitch nearby. Harry wasn't an expert on architecture, but he remembered reading a specific book about medieval buildings back when he'd managed to get away from his family. Which was a rare opportunity.

This castle looked similar to Rococo-themed castles around Europe, with the most notable difference being its dark structure. It was only four stories tall, however, looking similar to the Catherine Palace in Russia. Harry'd never imagined seeing a castle up close. Hell, he'd never gotten the opportunity to travel at all.

And by now he realized that they might not even be in Britain anymore. Which made the whole teleportation business all the more baffling.

As he reluctantly followed the headmaster, he felt an odd sensation encompassing him, like crossing a waterfall. This must be the barriers Karkaroff had mentioned earlier.

And slowly but surely it was settling in that whatever was happening here was just another case of "freakishness". The kind of stuff that Harry had been accused of all his life. It somehow made it easier for him to deal with, considering the fact that he had personal experience. The forbidden word magic came to mind and with that his thoughts turned to all the different signs indicating that there was something beyond the ordinary life of people like his family. The fact that the man had been dressed in robes, or that another bunch of "wizards" had followed him for a while, shouting out obscure words like "Obliviate".

It was too much to take in, but also easier to accept. There was an explanation for his sudden appearance in the middle of nowhere, just like there was one for getting his hair to grow rapidly after one night, or depositing himself on a roof. Things like releasing a snake on his cousin at the zoo. Or healing himself.

Harry glanced at the man who was now waving his hand absently, opening the main entrance with a bang. That confirmed Harry's suspicions, seeing for the first time how "magic" worked with intent.

They quickly entered the castle and it was now that he fully understood the gravity of the situation. Less than 24 hours ago he'd been worried where he would sleep and how much money the girl had given him and now his life was truly about to change. He didn't know whether to feel excitement or dread.

Karkaroff let go off him and quickly approached the staircases. Harry had no other choice but to follow, seeing as how the doors behind him had closed. He doubted he could make a successful escape.

No one else was there. Harry glanced around and noticed movement within the portraits hanging on the wall. People dressed in similar fashion were inspecting him, some of them sneering in disgust and murmuring what sounded like "Mudblood" and some Scandinavian words to him. Harry quickly looked down. He knew that even for a normal person, he looked completely out of place with his poor excuse of an outfit. His clothes were Dudley's and nothing he owned had ever truly belonged to him.

"Do hurry up, Potter," the wizard intoned, and Harry sped up his steps. They reached a poorly lit corridor and the headmaster approached the end of it, briskly opening the oak door with magic. Harry glanced around warily before entering an office.

The strange instruments littering the place immediately showed that no non-magical person worked here. Bookcases filled with ancient tomes indicated that the old headmaster liked to read or at least wanted to project the image of a scholar.

For some reason Harry didn't think the man was all that smart, though.

The man pulled a bottle out of a huge glass cabinet and poured himself a drink, downing it in one go before taking a seat behind the wooden desk.

"Take a seat," he offered, watching the boy with expressionless eyes. Harry tried to ignore the penetrating stare, secretly pleased that there were no portraits in this office. He'd had enough with just one man sneering at him. He didn't need more.

The instrument closest to the bookcase gave off a strange sound, but the old man didn't even bat an eyelash. Harry wondered whether this thing was some kind of alarm system for intruders.

Hopefully, he'd get some useful answers now. Harry didn't fool himself into thinking he was perfectly safe simply because murder wasn't on the cards today. There were countless ways in which someone could manipulate an ignorant boy after all. Harry chose to stay on guard, hoping that whatever happened wouldn't damage him more than his old life had done.

"So what do we have here? A boy who ran away from whatever hole you came from, who's clueless about our community and his own heritage," the headmaster remarked, crossing his arms and leaning forward slightly, his expression now hungry.

Harry understood that this man was enjoying the attempts at humiliating him.

"I can put two and two together, you know. So let's skip the chitchat about magic and how pathetic I am for not knowing anything. Get to the point!" Harry shot back, irritated at the remark. He also felt like chastising himself for getting provoked so easily. The man's blue eyes were silently laughing at him.

"Bravo. So you want to keep this short. Very well." The headmaster stroked his goatee thoughtfully, thinking how to best explain this.

"Your helpless situation doesn't change the fact that your ignorance is affecting the lives of thousands of people and could possibly be...disastrous for all of us, but especially for me."

"Great, and why should I care?" Harry gritted his teeth, frustration evident in his tone.

"Why should you care?" the older wizard snarled in disbelief.

Harry averted his eyes, taking a moment to verbalize his thoughts.

"Well, I figured out that I'm kind of famous or at least well-known for people like you to go looking for me," said Harry. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't give a damn about your life or whatever community you're part of."

"I wasn't following-," the man interrupted, but Harry continued, willing his hands to stop shaking. "That group of people, or wizards...they must have watched me leaving my family. Or someone bothered to tell them."

Harry's thoughts turned back to Mrs. Figg's suspicious behavior and he asked himself how long this has been going on.

"Ah, and that's the crux of the matter. Your family, boy. You've been raised by filthy Muggles and remained in the dark, because someone thought it would be brilliant to keep the great Harry Potter out of the limelight," Karkaroff elaborated, narrowing his eyes in contemplation.

Harry leaned forward as well. "You keep calling me great, or wizarding hero. And what was that? Boy-who-lived or some nonsense..."

"I won't bother explaining your own history to you or why your life affects all of us. You'll read about yourself in one of the books I'll give you as homework. But mark my words, Potter. You could have ended up back with your caretakers if those people had managed to get a hold of you. Apparently, your actions weren't very favorable in the eyes of light wizards, but I'd have done the same if I had found myself living with maggots," Karkaroff exclaimed, his anger suddenly making itself known to Harry.

"What are you taking about? Homework? Light wizards?" the boy demanded. But the headmaster only sighed in frustration, irritated beyond measure at having to explain these simple concepts.

"No one ever knew what happened to you and the wizarding world was led to believe that you grew up with full knowledge and awareness of what has happened. Your primary caretaker was a famous light wizard responsible for your wellbeing. The fool must have plans for you that made it vital for you to grow up without awareness of the wizarding community, choosing to let you loose on those Muggles."

Harry could infer that Muggles was probably a term for non-wizarding folks. But he had a caretaker? And the idea of a light wizarding community intrigued him. It suggested that there must be at least one counterpart and that this strange new world was not unified, if there were so many groups with different goals and views on magic. He tried to piece the puzzle together.

"You're not part of those light wizards or whatever they're called. And you don't seem to like non-magical people much..."

"Understatement, Potter," the man spat. Harry ignored him, feeling increasingly comfortable with the idea that magic existed in the first place and that he was part of a greater scheme.

"And you kidnapped me, recognized me instantly," Harry thought out loud, keeping in mind that the man in front of him had been very interested in his scar back when he had approached him on the train. Karkaroff stared at him impassively.

"Which means you want to use me for your own personal gain if you're not part of them," Harry concluded, meeting his gaze head-on. The old geezer gave him a toothy grin in response.

"And you won't have a choice in the matter. So let's get to the main business, shall we?"

Harry stared, his silence speaking for itself.

"I'll make this short. First things first, you will be staying in this castle and reading up on your history." He continued airily. "We are currently located at Durmstrang Institute, which is a prestigious wizarding boarding school here in Norway. Naturally, I'm the headmaster," he drawled.

Harry rolled his eyes, unimpressed with this man. He'd had to deal with adults who believed in their own superiority all his life. Unfortunately, Karkaroff still had the upper hand in this game and his next statement confirmed the boy's worries.

"You will eventually enroll as a student." And that made Harry pause. The wizard instantly caught his reaction.

"Believe me, I've wondered what do to with you. And no, this wasn't planned at all but it will benefit the both of us," the man admitted to Harry's surprise.

Harry thought about going to this school and what this new development meant for him. He had no idea what it entailed.

Something else also bothered him and he decided to ask.

"Okay, if this wasn't planned. What were you doing boarding a train in London? Why were you spending time with the-," Harry tested the word out, "Muggles if you hate them so much?"

Karkaroff snorted, not bothered at all. "Business that doesn't concern you."

Harry was instantly suspicious, the man's motives not becoming any clearer.

They took another moment to assess each other.

"My plans involve your cooperation, but I can easily force you to do whatever I want," he threatened with a smile. "A well-placed curse would do the trick. Or I could send you back to where you came from, destroying all your memories from this meeting and what you have witnessed so far. You would remain completely ignorant. Waiting for your caretaker to do the rest."

Harry couldn't imagine what was worse. Lack of knowledge or lack of agency. Both seemed like the easiest way to turn him into whatever these communities desired. And if there was something Harry feared it was the utter helplessness that came over you when you were forced to rely on others at the cost of your own independence.

And he believed Karkaroff's threats simply because he didn't know better. Harry swore he would raid the entire library of this school, if there was one.

Harry was ready to acquiesce. Becoming a student of this school didn't seem like such a bad deal for now, he told himself, trying to calm his nerves. He accepted.

"So what now?" the younger wizard asked.

"Elf," the old man suddenly barked, almost making Harry jump. And without warning the strangest creature Harry had ever seen popped out of nowhere.

"Master Karkaroff, sir" the thing responded timidly in English, its voice squeaky. Huge eyes were watching Harry.

"Bring Mr. Potter to one of the boy's dormitories. He is a guest, but he is not to leave the premises. You will take care of his needs," Karkaroff ordered.

Blue eyes settled on him. "And as for you, boy. We will discuss your future in more detail once you have bothered to read up on your situation. " And with that the man dismissed him, not giving him another look. Instead he made his way over to the glass cabinet again.

Harry had no choice but to leave, thinking about the short but informative conversation.

The inside of Durmstrang seemed more spacious, corridors leading to unknown places and the lack of artificial light or any light for that matter almost making him run into a wall. The house-elf, as Harry had learned after being "teleported" out of the office, seemed undeterred, leading him to a lower part of the castle, where the dormitories for the first years were located.

Harry had so many questions and he considered interrogating the creature some more, but eventually they reached their destination, standing in front of another nondescript-looking oak door.

"Master has ordered Harry Potter to rest. If Harry Potter needs something, call for Mindy to help." And without another word the house-elf disappeared from sight, leaving Harry staring dumbly at the spot where the creature just vanished.

"Eh okay," he said to no one, coming to the conclusion that this certainly was one of the weirdest exchanges he ever had. Not counting the time his cousin had caught chicken pox and kept calling him Aunt Marge in his feverish state. Harry never thanked him enough for infecting him as well.

Harry opened the door and found himself in what appeared to be a bedroom for 2 people. As far as he could tell there was no common room where students could gather before going to classes, each corridor simply leading straight to their dormitories. Maybe there was something like an assembly hall for them. Harry decided to explore the castle tomorrow, hoping to make the best out of this whole kidnapping situation.

The room wasn't overtly decorated and Harry only spotted a single portrait showing a vast landscape. Two bookcases and desks for each student could be found, as well as the door leading to an adjacent bathroom. But the most interesting and certainly most luxurious aspect was the walk-in closet, where Harry could already see half of it filled with various robes, shirts and even shoes for every occasion.

On what appeared to be his bed he found pajamas and underwear already laid out for him, which was kind of embarrassing. He doubted many students here needed these necessities that were provided by the school. Did he need to pay the school back somehow?

The thought filled Harry with dread.

Harry sighed, carefully sitting down on his bed and marginally relieved that nothing out of the ordinary happened. His mood turned sour, thoughts turning to all the new revelations and problems he'd have to face now.

The worst part was that he would be completely dependent on someone else, both emotionally and financially. It was certainly better to have a roof over your head than getting into a potentially difficult situation back in London. But the man was still a threat, no matter how promising his knowledge and this strange new world seemed to be.

Harry suddenly remembered the girl, Amy who in a drunken stupor had declared he would be destined for greatness. He didn't think she imagined the situation he was in now. Harry smiled wryly. He felt the urge to laugh and with a newfound determination he quickly stood and gathered the new clothes, hoping that he'd get rid of the Dursley's grime once and for all.

He made his way over to the bathroom and ignored his reflection in the mirror. The sun would rise soon and he hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep since leaving his family. The thought of food was even less of an option.

In a couple of hours he'd hopefully get more answers. He didn't bother to check the rest of the bedroom after taking his shower.

Too many things were on his mind, but eventually he made his way back to the bed and fell into a restless slumber, dark blue sheets covering his tired and emaciated body.

"Harry Potter, sir."

Harry mumbled something unintelligible, using a pillow to hide his face.

"Harry Potter, you must wake up," the squeaky voice broke through Harry's sleep-deprived senses. He grumbled, slowly coming to awareness.

"Please, Master Karkaroff requested your presence." And with that statement everything came rushing back. Harry turned his head and nearly fell out of his bed.

That annoying creature, Mindy something, was right in front of him, staring at the boy like he was the most disturbing sight in the world, big eyes an inch away from Harry's face.

"Don't ever do that again!" Harry exclaimed, leaning back immediately. Legs got entangled in his sheet, but the house-elf was patiently waiting for him to find his bearings.

Harry -with some effort- managed to get out of bed and immediately hurried to find some clothes to wear, leaving his meager possessions, some cash and the stolen watch behind.

He grabbed the first thing he could find, which wasn't saying much considering he had no idea how proper wizarding outfits must look like and he rushed with a bundle of black robes, dark pants and a white shirt to the bathroom, keenly aware that the house-elf was still staring at him bemusedly.

Harry sighed, turning on the shower and wondering how much he's slept. He didn't have any dreams, which was a plus, but his muscles ached and he didn't feel ready to confront the older wizard again. He had the insane urge to laugh.

He didn't take long in the shower, mindful of the fact that he had a grumpy headmaster waiting for him. In the end, he decided to at least make himself look somewhat presentable, although he had no idea how to dry his hair properly since there were no items resembling anything close to a hairdryer.

'This is my life now." He sighed, frustrated that his wet hair wasn't lying flat even in this state.

"Youngsters these days, always so dramatic," an eerie voice shot back, amused.

Startled, he turned around only to see his own reflection in the mirror smirking back at him. Harry stared.

"Okay, this is definitely not normal," he mumbled, carefully backing away from whatever that thing was. House-elves were one thing, but talking mirrors reached a new level of weird.

Harry dressed quickly, but Mindy had another idea and with a pop she appeared in the bathroom only to snap her fingers and work her magic on the boy, doing the rest.

And Harry had no time to prepare himself for another uncomfortable sensation of space/teleporting, whatever it was.

He was left standing in front of the headmaster's office and the house-elf left again.

'Great,' he thought, nervously carding his fingers through already messy, elf-styled hair.

"Enter," Karkaroff's unmistakable dark voice cut through the silence and Harry quickly did as requested, meeting the steely gaze of his kidnapper again.

He also noticed that it was probably already late in the morning, which meant he'd slept longer than necessary.

"You didn't bother to show up in the Great Hall and it looks like you haven't eaten at all, boy," the man started off, putting what looked like a newspaper aside for a moment to regard the small boy more closely. His sneer told Harry everything.

"Actually, you look half-starved, which makes me question the environment you were living in, Potter. But we can't expect too much from Muggles, can we?" he voiced. Harry remained silent, not willing to rise to the bait.

Karkaroff waved his hand as if dismissing the subject, and leaned forward slightly. "Nevermind. Starting from today I expect you to take care of yourself properly, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Harry said tonelessly, already tired of the man's attitude.

"I have absolutely no time to take care of your needs, but I want to you to be present in the main hall. And after that, you will be spending the rest of your day in the library, Potter."

"Of course, sir."

The man nodded, satisfied and without another word he let him go. Harry turned and left the office quickly, his anger making itself visible the moment he was alone.

This was something Harry had feared after finding out about this deal. Getting ordered around bothered him, because it simply reminded him too much of the similarities between this world and the so called Muggle world. Harry didn't expect many things to change after yesterday's events, but the least he could ask for was an ounce of respect. He went in the direction where the 'main hall' supposedly was, using the opportunity to carefully orientate himself.

He reminded himself that as a boy soon to be turning 11, respect didn't really mean much. Harry contemplated the idea that maybe his fame in this world would be useful to make a pathway, but he felt slightly nauseated to use such methods.

He couldn't really imagine strutting around as if he owned the magical world simply because he was already famous for something he couldn't remember. Harry also told himself that respect was earned not on the basis of something he had done without awareness. Which means he'd have to do it the hard way, dealing with bothersome people like the headmaster.

Angry footsteps reached the main hall which wasn't far away from the main entrance. He closely inspected the hall and was surprised to see it decorated with stone gargoyles, more pillars and high windows with stained glass making room for natural sunlight. Three long tables took up the majority of the space and at the front there was a single table positioned on a dais, which was probably for the professors.

He made his way over to the table which already had an assortment of dishes waiting for him. Absently he scratched the spot, where his scar on his forehead marred soft skin.

"Let's make the best of it," Harry shrugged, carefully inspecting food he'd never seen before. It'd be a long day.

The library was probably one of the most fascinating places Harry had ever seen. He hadn't really seen that much in his life yet. Rows upon rows were filled with tomes on subjects Harry thought were straight out of a fairy tale. Potions, Runes, Herbology. Though, he completely ignored the spot where Karkaroff had placed stacks of books for him to read after picking out the few useful ones. He'd choose his own reading material, thank you very much.

The smell of old parchment permeated the air and Harry enjoyed the moment of peace he could find here.

"Mindy," he called after a while.

And the obedient house-elf appeared immediately, waiting for Harry's instructions. He felt a bit bad about using these creatures without a care, but apparently that was another one of those odd things about the wizarding world he'd eventually have to accept.

"Could you please find me some books with references to the most famous people in the wizarding world? If my name is included, that'd also be helpful." Harry smiled and Mindy snapped gnarled fingers once again. At the nearest table another stack of books appeared out of nowhere and Harry sighed tiredly.

He's already picked Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century from the first pile, but Mindy had also provided him with titles such as Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and A History of Magic by one Bathilda Bagshot.

Harry dismissed the house-elf and went to work. It would take a lot of patience to cross-reference all these books and try to understand the gist of it and he didn't really know what Karkaroff expected from him anyway.

He opened the Dark Arts one, mindful of the potential bias from the person who wrote it. It sounded interesting, though.

Harry scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment Mindy has given him. It took some time getting used to write using a quill and Harry looked dismayed at the countless ink stains. He frowned, but continued summarizing certain paragraphs while skipping over useless pieces of information he didn't need at the moment. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, turning from killing curses to Dark Lords and back again to the First Wizarding War. He'd quickly sought out information on all the previous wars this world had suffered from.

It was quite a lot.

Apparently, this entire conflict between the so called Dark side and the Light one was nothing new and many wizards and witches had envisioned a world for their respective kind, rising above the masses and instigating bloodshed and fights that went on for years. Harry had been amused to see just how truthful the "Muggles" had been about Merlin and several other prominent figures. Harry also came to the conclusion that he was simply just part of a long line of pre-determined conflicts with an added bonus.

His "defeat" of the Dark Lord Voldemort was a mysterious case of magical interference and that's why he was so famous to begin with.

Harry had examined all the possible theories that witches and wizards had proposed, with one prominent at the forefront of his mind.

Thoughts on his mother's sacrifice turned to a fantasy of a life he could've had if not for Voldemort's obsession. It made him furious, but with that feeling also came a sense of melancholic understanding. He had stared for a long time at the moving picture in the book depicting the Potters.

There were endless "what ifs", but Harry had long since lost the ability to believe that good things would happen to him simply because he wanted it that way. There wasn't much time for fun and naive hopes when a madman was after him.

And the possibility was there.

Speculations arose upon discovery that Voldemort somehow found the secret to immortality.

And Harry immediately agreed with the theory that the man was alive, considering that no corpse has been found at Godric's Hollow after the Killing Curse had rebounded. You didn't just explode or disappear after that.

'This is all so stupid," Harry murmured, tirelessly continuing to read.

After hours of work, the house-elf reminded him to be present for dinner, so Harry quickly made his way to the Great Hall and continued to ignore Karkaroff's speculative gaze while eating. He had been careful not to make himself sick. It would take time to get used to this kind of luxury.

Harry also thought it odd that no one else aside from the Headmaster had been present. Where were all the professors at this school?

Undisturbed, he eventually made his way back to the library and took some books with him to the dormitory.

On his way he passed a Ghost, which gave him another shock. The somewhat unattractive woman with a long and pallid face introduced herself as Eileen Prince, smiling enthusiastically and wishing Harry a good night, before disappearing through another wall.

He doubted he would have nice dreams now. Next time people would probably tell him rainbow-farting unicorns were real.

He shuddered.

Harry continued reading An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, wanting to know more about Durmstrang and what this kind of education truly meant for him. In the end, his tired eyes forced him to take his much needed break.

With thoughts centered on Voldemort and Durmstrang's own Lord Grindelwald Harry fell asleep.

It took him several weeks to get a full grasp on the situation in the wizarding world and many discussions with the Headmaster that made Harry's frustrations rise with each meeting.

School term would start soon and Harry had gotten the necessary equipment sponsored by the Headmaster, excluding a wand he still needed to buy. He'd also managed to change his Muggle cash into wizarding currency with Mindy's help. Surprisingly, Harry was happy with the idea to cut his ties with his past, now fully aware that he'd have eventually gotten his Hogwarts letter anyway. His life was bound to change no matter what, but this time Harry had the tools at his disposal to control his own fate.

It also meant spending endless days in the library, finding out just how much of a tool Harry was supposed to be.

He wasn't all that fond of the idea that Karkaroff wanted to turn him into a proper and powerful wizard simply as means of survival. Harry had squeezed out the entire, nasty history of the headmaster, including his betrayal of the Dark Lord and his status as a wanted man amongst the dark wizarding community, especially the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. It had been funny listening to the man's deluded hopes that he was destined to fight and defeat Voldemort, but it also limited Harry's own movements. Where Karkaroff got his ideas from, no one knew.

He vowed to get independent from the man's influences and hoped others would give him the opportunity to do so. Karkaroff wasn't really well-liked at this school, as Eileen had told him. No surprise there.

Harry absentmindedly rubbed his scar while reading another tome on Light Magic, which was a rare subject discussed at Durmstrang. Sometimes he wondered how he'd get along with the people attending this school, what with his status as slayer of the Dark Lord.

No teachers have arrived yet, but tomorrow he would meet the first people who would be part of his life for the next seven years of education.

Harry was anxious. He didn't really want a repeat of his bullying years. On top of that, people in positions of power could be troublesome as well, if not more so.

Coincidentally, Hogwarts term would also start September, 1. And word has gotten around by now.

During breakfast, Karkaroff had wordlessly handed him the "Daily Prophet", an English wizarding paper.

The headlines highlighted panic all over Britain, and Dumbledore was currently looking for the Boy-Who-Lived-Gone-Missing, leaving the Ministry in chaos.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Will he be able to find me here?" he asked carefully, his hand reaching for the teapot. Until now the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts must have kept silent about the situation.

"They've lost your trail on the train and I have erased both of our magical signatures before portkeying away. They won't find you, unless someone from inside the school gives your location away," replied Karkaroff gruffly.

If anything, that made Harry even more anxious.

"And how are you planning on keeping my presence here a secret from...I don't know, maybe 500 people?" Harry shot back, disbelieving.

Karkaroff simply smirked. "I have my ways as headmaster of this school."

The younger boy averted his eyes, by now used to the man's antics and non-answers. Karkaroff snorted, staring him down.

"Listen to me, Potter. I can easily deposit you at the gates of Hogwarts with a gift bag for Dumbledore. It's your choice to play light wizarding hero under his thumb, but with you on his side the war is as good as lost," he declared dispassionately. "I might as well sign my death warrant."

"And again, why should I care?"

The older man shrugged. "You don't, which is good. I'd be teaching a fool if you started to get sentimental on me." He paused, taking a breath and his eyes were suddenly hard, imploring. Harry met his gaze, curious to see where this was going.

"You have the choice to learn all that is necessary from inside out. You'll be able to defend yourself with in-depth knowledge of the power the Dark Lord wields. Knowledge of the people who belong to families and close associates of his Inner Circle. And it's nothing Dumbledore can offer you, no matter how much of an equal he is to the Dark Lord." The last part sounded as if it cost the older wizard to admit as such.

"This is something that you can't escape from, Potter. You won't be able to disappear if the entire wizarding world is putting their hopes on your shoulders!" the man exclaimed.

Harry thought it over and regarded the man for a moment.

"You don't have much confidence in the Light side to begin with. But I've read the statistics and they vastly outnumber your kind. On the battlefield, they could easily crush the Dark Lord's forces," he stated carefully.

"With a measly Stupefy and Expelliarmus, you mean." Another sneer marred the man's face. "If the Light side defeats his army with your help, they'll simply be incarcerated until they plead innocent. I know them. I did the same, after all. It would only take a few years, before another uprising crushes the wizarding world simply because Dumbledore's people are too ethical to kill. And you'd be on the hit list." The man crossed his arms, a tiredness briefly showing in his eyes.

He glared at Harry. "Tell me boy, would you be able to kill, torture, maim?"

Harry felt sick. "You're asking a boy if he can be a murderer?" he voiced.

"It doesn't matter what you want anyway. You'll have to do it one way or another, either on my side or on the Light side. Minimum one murder unless you want to get yourself killed by the Dark Lord, of course."

It looked like Karkaroff was taunting him now.

Harry only realized now just how much of an impact his decisions could make and he felt fear, the gravity of the situation hitting him hard. Just weeks ago he worried about finding another home and now he'd have to kill or be killed.

Harry lost his appetite and stood, ready to leave.

"You can't leave this school now, as you know. So take your time to think about it carefully. And be prepared for tomorrow. We're leaving early before the others arrive." The man turned away from him and left the Great Hall before Harry could. Harry noticed the jerky and abrupt way Karkaroff was clutching his forearm. Weird.

The black-haired wizard stood unmoving. Nausea plagued him and he felt the urge to run away.

Karkaroff was right in a way.

Harry was now part of the wizarding world and that meant he was also part of all its problems. Observing and choosing his side carefully was detrimental to his naked survival. Worse than anything he'd ever experienced with the 'Muggles'. Was it worth the trouble? That was the whole question. Was it worth staying in the wizarding world?

And there was also another thought that struck him. He didn't think he was a Dark wizard or a Light one. Hell, he didn't even have his own wand yet, which he would be getting tomorrow according to the man's earlier promises. And maybe he simply wasn't powerful enough to deal with an immortal man hell-bent on killing him. How could he do it anyway? And why was Karkaroff so sure that Harry could do it? There was probably more to the story than he thought.

It was also quite obvious that despite the elder wizard's determination to destroy his kind for the sake of his own wellbeing, the man longed for the Dark. Whatever Harry would do was bound to be closely observed by a man who had his own ideas and principles already. And Harry who had so much to learn could either choose to do it the bloody way and with full awareness of the brutality he would witness.

Or he could take refuge under Dumbledore's protection and hope for the best.

Hope. Right. What a laughable concept.

Harry left the hall, light steps carrying him to the library. He swiped his cold hands across his forehead, trying to calm down.

The ghostly eyes of one Eileen Prince followed his movements closely, lips twitching in delight.

Miles away in a forest somewhere in Albania, two pieces of one soul found each other again, carefully watching how their cowardly servant finished working on a very specific ritual. Nearby, a young boy not much older than Harry was struggling to get free from the binds.

Slow start, but I hope you liked it =) Let me know what you think.