PART ONE:

KRYSTOF URIOV

CRACK!

"Well, that was lovely!" scoffed a man, brushing himself off. Normally he traveled by Floo Powder, but this was an important notice that had just come to his attention. His name was Radcliff Harrington, and he was in charge of the Department of Misinformed Muggle's section of the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, he dealt with Muggle children that turned out to be wizards or witches far past their eleventh birthday.

He spun his char-black umbrella over his shoulder and back around his wrist, as he always did to check his surroundings. The umbrella had been bewitched to see how many people (Muggle and wizard) were around him.

Radcliff was currently in an empty, white hallway of a hospital in Northern Russia. He had been made aware of a special case that needed his immediate attention.

He started off, using the umbrella as a cane as he walked down the hallway. Moments later, he came to the door of the room he was looking for. He knocked on it first; to see if there was anyone inside aside from the person he had come to collect.

When no one answered, he opened the door and entered the room. It was very dark, and slightly chilled. Radcliff glanced around the room, quickly finding the crack of light that strained in through the closed curtains.

"Vho's there?"

"Ah, yes," Radcliff cleared his throat and walked over to the end of the bed. "My name is Radcliff Harrington, and I am in charge of the Department of Misinformed Muggle's, with the Ministry of Magic. Do I have the room of one Ekatrine Logachov?"

"You might," came the voice again from the shadowed bed. "Vhat can I do for you?"

"First off, if you don't mind, I would like to open the curtains…I prefer to see who I am speaking with."

"Be my guest," she snorted. "Damn nurses closed them."

He waved his wand and the curtains drew open, revealing a white sky and falling snow. "Much better, now then," he turned back to the bed, his eyes falling on the girl that lie upon it, "it has come to my attention that your…erm…accident…was, well, out of the ordinary."

"You mean magic," she stated. She had shoulder-long brown hair and calm, brown eyes. Her skin was pale, but she hardly looked weak. She was neither bulky nor stick-like—she was, in simple terms, an average girl of seventeen.

"Erm—yes, magic."

She didn't reply, but gave a curt nod instead and looked out the window.

"The Ministry of Magic has assigned me to your case, Miss Logachov," he said softly. "You see, it's not very often that a witch or wizard appears after they've turned eleven."

"Of course not," she replied coolly. "How much of J.K. Rowling's book's are true?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," she stated, carefully walking her tongue around the English words. "I haff read them—so has most of the Muggle vorld. How much of vhat she vrote was accurate?"

Needless to say, Ratcliff was taken aback by the question. Rowling was one of their best, an expert on Muggles and their way of life. Her passion, however, was writing. She had spoken to the Minister of Magic and asked if she could start a novel about the Boy Who Lived and publish it to the Muggle world. Approval had been given, and she had spent the last couple of years writing about the secret wizarding community that existed beyond the boundaries of Muggles.

"Vell?"

"E-excuse me," he said softly, "but no one has ever asked me that before. And, as it stands, she is quite accurate, indeed. But don't go believing it all right away…as I'm sure you'll learn in time, there are some thing's that she had to—erm—improvise upon."

She nodded curtly. "Of course. So, vhat are you planning to do vith me?"

Radcliff looked at her bruised and blotched skin, tempted to heal her himself. However, if they walked out and she was healed, they would draw unwanted attention to themselves. "You do realize that first we will have to take care of the accident, correct?"

Ekatrine's eyes shifted down and she looked intently at the floor. In a very small voice, she said, "Yes."

"Are you well enough to walk?"

She nodded.

"Very well then, shall we go?"

Ekatrine stood from the bed. She had refused to let the nurses change her, and was still dressed in her Muggle clothes.

"Is there anything we need to get from your home?" he questioned tenderly.

The girl didn't say anything.

"Well, I supposed not…" he motioned at the door and it flicked open. "Come, let's get you to the Ministry…"

The two left the white room, and the door shut with a click behind them.

An hour later, Ekatrine was standing awkwardly in a giant room. She and the man who had come to retrieve her were waiting for the Minister of Magic to appear (who, at this very time, was Fudge).

"I'm very sorry he's late," said Radcliff. He was compulsivly looking at his wristwatch, his dark eyes darting around the room.

She didn't reply. He had been apologizing for the past forty-five minutes, and she was tired of speaking.

Finally, the door into the room opened and the Minister walked in, wiping sweat from his face with a handkerchief. "Sorry, sorry…was tied up…busy, busy…well, is this her?"

"Yes, sir," replied Radcliff. "Ekatrine Logachov."

Fudge walked over and leaned in, looking right into the girls' eyes. "Hmm…"

Ekatrine gritted her teeth, annoyed by the short mans abrupt interest in her. A vase nearby exploded in a shower of blue porcelain.

Fudge pulled away and said calmly, "Rapario." The vase, as though sucked backwards through time, pulled itself together and placed itself back on the small, rickety table it had been standing on. "Very interesting…now, then," he motioned at the desk and two chairs that had been in the room, "let us begin."

They all sat down, and Fudge pulled out a piece of parchment. He began to scribble upon it with a quill. "Parent's names'?"

Ekatrine kept her eyes focused as best as she could on a plant behind Fudge's head as she spoke, "Boris and Olga."

He nodded, scratching the names down. "Age of deaths?"

She closed her eyes and replied in as calm a tone as she could muster, "Thirty-eight and thirty-four."

"Very young," murmured Fudge. He looked genuinely sad, as though he remembered the two magic folk.

Ekatrine squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall.

"Now then," Fudge placed the parchment on his desk and leaned over, looking right at the girl. She let her eyes open, her tears rejected. "We need to figure out what school you're going to attend."

"Blatbang is the closest witch academy to her home," suggested Radcliff. "She could attend there."

"No, no," Fudge replied, his eyes still trained on the girl before him. He seemed to know something that neither of the other two knew. "I think that would be right where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would look first…no, no…she needs someplace where she can hide."

"Excuse me, sir?" asked Radcliff, readjusting his umbrella.

"Things," Fudge said very softly, "I cannot say…but she can't go there."

"What about Hogwarts?"

"No," Fudge said again. "Too obvious, and besides, Mr. Potter is there, and as it stands the school is in enough danger…so long as he's there… We don't need this one going, too…"

Ekatrine felt foul at him speaking as if she were not present. However, she had learned over the years to keep her mouth shut and watch what she said. Her parents had been very odd—keeping their voices soft whenever they spoke. They never spoke to anyone outside of the household. Ekatrine didn't even know her closest relatives.

"Can't we place her with her father's sister?"

"No!" Fudge gasped, as though the very idea were heresy. "That's not going to work!"

"Excuse me," Ekatrine said in her heavily accented tone, "but vhat is going on?"

Fudge blinked and though his eyes had been trained on the girl the entire time, he looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Why…you didn't know, did you? Of course not. Your mother would never let anyone know…you father almost didn't know."

"Know what?" Radcliff asked before Ekatrine could ask herself.

Fudges eyes shifted to him briefly. "Her mother was a Death-Eater. Was, mind you. Or at least, that's what she told us…it took us a lot of time and galleons to hide her and her husband."

Ekatrine sat stone still. She was tempted to stand and run from the room, but couldn't bring herself to move.

"A-a Death-Eater?" gasped Radcliff, his eyes wide. "But…that can't be! They would be dead…you know He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have surely killed them!"

"That's why we hid them," replied Fudge carefully, his eyes once again focused on the girl before him. "You see, Ekatrine, your parents were so afraid for your life—your mother, if I remember correctly, gave the Ministry an enormous amount of information so that she could hide you. She took a great risk."

"And now she's dead," whispered Radcliff.

"Unfortunately," replied Fudge. "So now, Mr. Harrington, you see why Ekatrine cannot be allowed into any of the schools He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would check. We have to hide her, and we have to hide her absolutely."

"Karkaroff," said Radcliff suddenly. "Durmstrang would be the prefect place. You-Know-Who wouldn't ever think to look for a girl in a boy's academy!"

Fudge's face suddenly glowed, his tired eyes lighting up. "Yes, that's right!"

"I can't go to a boy's school!" gasped Ekatrine. Everything she had been taught up to that moment disappeared. "Especially one taught by that…that traitor!"

"Ah, I see you've heard of him," replied Fudge with a nod. "All the better reason to send you, I think. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named probably knows you don't trust Karkaroff, and so he won't expect us to send you to Durmstrang!"

"I'm a girl, though!"

"Yes, but there is such a thing as magic!" replied Fudge excitedly.

"The Polyjuice Potion!" said Radcliff.

"We don't have that long, and besides, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was to find two students that looked the same and went to different school's under different surnames, don't you think he might get even a little curious?"

Radcliff's face fell. "True…so how do you plan—?"

Fudge turned on Ekatrine quickly, "There's a spell we can use. It's a transfiguration spell—one of the best. McGonagall uses it all the time in her classes. It only lasts six hours, though…"

"Better than nothing," Radcliff replied. "Can she cast it herself?"

Fudge nodded. "As soon as she gets a wand, I don't see why not. Now then, what would you like to be called, Ekatrine?"

The girl just gawked at him, her eyes wide. "You are kidding. You can't send me to that school!"

"We can, and to protect you from the Dark Lord, we will," replied Fudge darkly. "Now, a name, please."

"It has to sound Slavic!" chimed in Radcliff. "Or else it'll be conspicuous!"

Again she gritted her teeth. As if I didn't know that already…

"Well?"

"Boris," she snapped.

"Too obvious. He'll know it's you for sure."

"Viktor."

"No, there's all ready a Viktor at the school."

"Viktor Krum, none-the-less!" said Radcliff with a glow in his eyes. "I'm sure you've heard of him!"

She narrowed her eyes, trying to think and restraining herself from telling the bipolar wizard to shut up. "Krystof, then."

"Good, good," Fudge scribbled the name out. "Last name?"

Ekatrine was beginning to get annoyed. Her parents had died in the accident only a few hours ago, and these men were asking her to give up all she had left of them—her identity!

"I know it's hard," Fudge said, realizing what he was asking of her, almost as if he had read her mind. "But we really need to hide you as soon as we can…besides, you need to be taught how to protect yourself incase He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named comes after you."

He won't come after me, she thought calmly. Right now, Harry Potter is his most important thought. I'm nothing to him.

"Uriov," she blurted finally. It was easy, and was the surname of a childhood friend.

"Perfect," replied Fudge quickly scrawling the name behind 'Krystof.' "Now then, let's get you a wand…Karkaroff will need to be contacted and arrangements made…" He stood up, the parchment in his hands. "Harrington, take her to Diagon Alley. She needs a wand and everything else…make sure you have her under the spell, first…can't have little Ekatrine Logachov walking around in broad daylight!" With that, the man in the bowler cap scuttled from the office.

"He's right, let's go," said Radcliff, standing and leading the girl from the room as well.

Ekatrine followed him, her mind trying to recall as best it could the events of her life that might suggest whether or not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knew where she was and what had happened.

She almost doubted the accident had actually been an accident.

Ekatrine followed Radcliff through a set of iron gates and up a gravel walk to a castle. It was squattier than Hogwarts, the towers domed in onion-shaped tops. The entire building, strangely enough, was made of wood.

"Magic wood," said Radcliff with a smile as he looked at the young man beside him. "It's been around since the castle was founded."

Ekatrine ignored him. She had done plenty of research in the past few days on the castle and its current headmaster, along with whatever she could find in paper clippings. She had found a few articles recapping the Tri-Wizard Tournament from the previous year and how Viktor Krum, world-known Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch Team, had participated in the games.

They entered the school to find that it was also made of wood on the inside, magical fire-lit torches burned against the walls, giving the halls a homey feeling.

As they walked down the main hallway towards the Headmasters office, interested students paused and looked over at the girl-turned-boy. Ekatrine felt mildly out of place surrounded by so many people. In their fear, her parent's had had her live a very sheltered lifestyle. She had almost never left the house, unless escorted by one of them.

It's so odd to think that they won't be watching me wherever I go… she thought sadly.

Before they had left the Ministry, guidelines had been set—Ekatrine was not to tell anyone who she was, no matter what the circumstances were. She was to stay a boy when in the company of anyone, even if she had to cast the spell in front of him or her. Other likewise rules had been applied to her, and she was determined to follow them, not wanting to be discovered as a girl in the company of boy as it was.

"Iceflakes," said Radcliff in an undertone when they had reached a large fireplace. The fire inside of it went out instantly and the two of them walked through the bricks in the back and up a set of steps.

Radcliff Harrington paused before he knocked on the giant doors before him. There was a second or two of silence, and then the doors opened.

Igor Karkaroff was at his desk, his dark eyes set upon his guests. "Velcome!" he said in a droll tone. "This must be Krystof."

Ekatrine nodded curtly, having gotten used to the name over the past day or so she'd spent at the Ministry. No one had dared call her by her real name incase he was listening in.

"Krystof, this is Viktor Krum. He vill be your mentor. I haff all ready explained to him that you are a Misinformed Muggle and haff had not magical experience before now," Karkaroff said, obviously enjoying his power over the helpless girl. "You vill take your daily lessons with his year, as you are seventeen, and after class-hours, he vill instruct you privately to bring you up to speed on the basics of spell-casting and broom-flying. Am I clear?"

She nodded once. "Yes, sir." Her eyes shifted over to the other boy. He was hawk-nosed, heavy eyebrowed, and dark haired. However, his aura hit her as one that was not so much a sawdust brained boy, but as a boy who was smart and quite able to do anything he set his mind to.

"Good," Karkaroff quirked an eyebrow. "Your trunk has been sent to your room, and you haff uniforms ready for you in your vardrobe. You vill report to your first class promptly at seven. Breakfast starts at six. Dismissed."

Ekatrine turned to leave, expecting Radcliff to follow her, but he did not. Instead he went to discuss something with Karkaroff while Viktor escorted her from the room.

"You're in my House," Krum said coolly in Bulgarian as he led her down the hallway.

Ekatrine nodded dimly, having read somewhere that instead of teachers being the Heads of House in Durmstrang, the students were. There was one student chosen from each house (usually the current Quidditch Captain) to be the Head of their House.

Krum had been his Houses lead for nearly two years.

They walked along the squatted passages, Ekatrine expecting to see a ghost or two, however, there were none.

"You know how to play Quidditch?" he asked abruptly.

"I've read of it," she replied truthfully, trying to remember that she looked like a boy and thusly needed to sound and act as one too. "But I've always wanted to play."

"Have you ever flown before?"

"No."

He merely nodded as he turned this way and that. Finally they reached a giant door. Krum lifted his wand and said quickly, "Snarata."

The door swung open.

"You'll need to remember that to get into our Common Room," he said as he strode into the room.

Ekatrine followed in his wake, her eyes scanning the room quickly. The room was decorated with tapestries depicting warriors marching off to battle, and a giant coat of arms hung above a crackling fire pit in the center of the room.

The colors of the house were red and bronze, and the colors showered the room in a very militaristic style. Black had been thrown in for a stylish flare, and about the room were a number of wood-framed chairs and couches. The room was circular, and leading from it three steps up were four halls.

The House she had been placed in was called Wrathoth, named after William Wrathoth. He had been one of the first Headmasters close friends. The others had been Bastion Boonhorn, Michelle Mumblewarts, Sicilian Seantinn, and Ginelda Grifithmine. They had come from all over the world, hence their odd names.

"You room is this way," Krum said calmly. He led her down one of the hallways and to a room with the number 23 on the door.

She opened the door carefully and looked inside. Her trunk had been placed at the foot of her camp bed.

"Dinner is in an hour," Krum said stiffly. "The dining hall is down the stairs where you came in." He turned and walked away after the now boy didn't reply.

Ekatrine walked into the room and looked around. It was quite empty—a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk and chair. The room itself was small, and silently Ekatrine thanked the builders of the institute for their generosity of separate rooms.

Then again, Durmstrang was a much smaller school than Hogwarts. It took in only the most advanced and promising wizards in its region. The rest, if they were male, were sent either to Hogwarts or to another school by the name of Raffletoff.

Ekatrine hadn't done much research on either of the schools. She trusted Rowling's books for anything she might need to know about Hogwarts, and decided that Raffletoff was someplace she'd probably never go.

Walking to her wardrobe she opened it. Inside, as Karkaroff had said, were a number of neatly hung uniforms in the blood red, black, and gold that each student was required to wear. On the chest was the coat of arms of the House she was in.

Ekatrine looked down at her hand, noticing that it was becoming more feminine by the second. The spell was wearing off. Her brown hair leaked from her scalp, curling about her ears and to her shoulder. Because her hair was short, it curled neatly about her ears from her tucking it behind them so often. When it had been longer, it had been board-straight.

She walked over to her trunk and rummaged through it until she found her wand. It was made from black cherry tree wood and the remains of a Basilisk heart. She quickly changed into the male uniform, examining herself in the mirror. She had to admit, she liked the colors, though they did drown out her pale complexion. In a way, she looked almost as a ghost might if they were to dress in solid clothes.

"Enjoying yourself?"

She jumped and whirled around, her wand pointed at a semi-transparent figure. "Who are you?"

"The name is Serge," he said with a half bow. "And you?"

"Krystof," she said, holding her head high.

"You don't look like a Krystof to me," he said softly, his voice just as accented as hers. "And you accent is Russia…"

She scowled. "Karkaroff knows I'm here, but my identity can't be revealed, so keep your mouth shut."

Serge laughed gently. "I will not speak of your secret, but I find it very interesting that a woman should have been admitted to a boy's school."

"Aramendo," she said, and her form shifted. Her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her frame became bulkier and more muscular, and she grew a few inches. "Better?"

The ghost seemed quite amused by this new spell. "I thought you didn't know magic?"

"I don't," she replied in her new masculine voice. "This one was given to me by the Ministry."

"Yes," he replied, eyeing her wand. "What is it?"

"Black cherry and Basilisk."

"Unique," he murmured. "I must go, dinner is soon, you may wish to discover your classrooms before tomorrow." With that said, he disappeared, leaving Ekatrine to wonder why he had been so abrupt in taking his leave.

She snorted to herself and left the room. Wand in pocket, hand on wand, she headed towards the Common Room, but paused when she spotted an enormous group of boys sitting around the fire pit. She spotted Krum amongst them. He was seated such that when he looked up, he could see right down the hall she was in.

He lifted his head, laughing as he spoke with one of his comrades. His eyes focused on her, and Ekatrine felt her heart skip a beat. She frowned mentally at the feeling, not enjoying it at all. It made her feel slightly ill.

Remembering that she was a boy and would fit right in, she strode down the hall and into the Common Room. She took an empty seat near the Seeker and looked around at the many faces.

"This is Krystof," Krum said, not at all allowing her a quiet entrance.

"Where're you from?" demanded a burly looking boy to Ekatrine's left.

She said the first school that came to mind, wishing she had done more research on it, "Raffletoff."

v"Raffletoff?" he snorted. "You play Quidditch?"

"No."

"Odd," he said slyly, "You look like a good Beater. Hey, Krum, you think he'd make a good Beater? Ivanov's gone, you know, and we're Beaterless."

The room was quiet, all ears and eyes trained on the tree boys.

"Might be," Krum replied half-heartedly. "We'll see."

The burly boy nodded once and turned back to "Krystof". "Name's Alex. Alexander, for long, but call me that and I'll squish you, new-boy. Beater number one."

Ekatrine saw his hand and caught it. He closed his giant hand about hers, gripping it as tightly as he could to see how the new kid reacted.

She hardly flinched, and gripped it back with equal force. She may have lived in her home most of her life, but that didn't mean she never got any exercise.

"Good grip," he muttered, pulling his hand away.

The others laughed.

"Anton," said a taller boy on Alex's other side. "Good to meet you." Anton shook Ekatrine's hand. Like the others, his hair was kept almost too short to know its color, but it had more of a reddish sheen to it.

"Anton's the Keeper," Krum said.

She nodded curtly. "Good to meet you."

"The other's are in the library," said Alex with a chuckle. "Unlike Raffletoff we don't have as many members in our House, so our team takes up most of it."

Ekatrine counted mentally. One Seeker, one Keeper, two Beaters, and three Chasers. There were eight boys in the Common Room, which meant that out of the three she knew to be on the team, there were at least four in the library. He said the other Beater was gone, so that means three. There were twelve boys, including her, in the House.

"Not many of us are there?" laughed Alex loudly. "Eleven, I think."

"Twelve," snorted Krum looking annoyed.

Alex counted on his fingers. "No, eleven. Your brain's mush, Krum."

"Plus Krystof," replied Krum coolly. "That makes twelve."

"Yeah, potato-brains," scoffed another of the boys. Alex leaned over and punched him on the shoulder.

"Potato-brains," he snorted in reply.

Ekatrine couldn't help but let a small smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She silently wished that she had met these boys earlier. They were a bit rougher than anyone she had met before, but she liked that. She wasn't exactly a girly girl and liked the idiocy of the guys around her.

Krum smirked when he saw Krystof's lips pull into a half-smile. At least the new boy was feeling more at home than before.

A clock above chimed and the boys all stood and strode from the room. Ekatrine came up in the rear, Krum in the front of the group.

"Hope the others heard that," Alex grumbled, rubbing his ears from the ringing of the giant clock that Ekatrine guessed to be above them.

"I'm sure they did," chortled Anton.

After Ekatrine left the door, it closed behind her, and she turned back, her eyes widening as she saw a set of eyes open and then snap shut.

"Everything all right?" Krum asked.

"Fine," she replied, and followed him down the hallway and to the dining hall.

The two of them followed the group before them and within moments entered the dining hall.

It was, like the rest of the castle, made of wood. Along it were five tables, each one made from sturdy oak, and along them were benches where the kids sat.

Ekatrine let her eyes wander to the teachers' table. Much like she had expected, it was full of male teachers. She felt a swell of pride as she realized just how unique her situation really was. It seemed she really was the first girl to enter the school in at least a hundred years, if not more.

Her eyes met Karkaroff's and she had a fleeting desire to throw something at him. Even if he was the Headmaster, she still didn't trust him. Years of growing up and hearing his name whispered as though a curse made her ill at seeing him so closely.

He and the teachers all sat at once with a loud thump, and then the boys around her all sat at the same time. She collapsed into her seat beside them. Krum had grabbed her sleeve so that she wouldn't embarrass herself.

It was only when Karkaroff clapped his hands and the food appeared that anyone spoke.

Ekatrine leaned over and said softly, "Thanks."

Krum nodded and grabbed a slice of rye bread. He buttered it up and stuck it into his stew.

Ekatrine leaned back and began to eat as well. She had remember in Rowling's books that Hogwart's had served wonderful dishes, so she was mildly disappointed with the plain stew and darker bread.

She took a drink from her pewter-colored goblet and blinked a few times. The drink was very different from anything she had ever had before—whether as a Muggle or wizard, she had never thought she would taste anything so explosive.

Alex laughed in his booming voice and said, "I see little Krys isn't used to Professor Latov's spice wine!"

"They serve you wine?" she gasped through her watering eyes and choked voice.

"That's not all," Alex said with a wink. "There's vodka in the Common Rooms. Great, huh?"

She shrugged. Vodka she was used to. This spicy wine was something else.

"They think they can win us over with the treat of wine," said Anton with a chuckle. "Their food is crap, so they give us alcohol to make us forget the taste." He tapped his temple, as though it was a brilliant idea.

"Whatever."

"I think he likes it!" laughed Anton.

"Who?"

A group of boys Ekatrine had never before seen were sitting around them. She had failed to notice them upon her entry to the dining hall.

"Oh, yeah," Alex said before Krum could open his mouth, "This is Krystof. He's going to be our new Beater."

"You're joking," one said in a drawl, his icy eyes focused lazily on the girl-turned-boy before him. "Well, he seems all right…"

"This is Dusan. He thinks he knows everything, but obviously he's as much of a potato-brain as Anton here."

Anton kicked him under the table. "Potato-brain that."

"Let's keep it in the Common Room, sweetie-pie," chortled Alex, who quickly received another kick from Anton.

Another two boys looked at 'Krystof'. "I'm Oleg," said one quickly before Alex could embarrass him. "Good to meet you, comrade."

"Yakov," said the final boy quickly. "New Beater, huh? Well, if Krum thinks you're ready…where're you from?"

Before Ekatrine could answer, Krum said quickly, "He's not our new Beater. Not yet, anyways. We still have to hold tryouts."

"Awe, but Mamo, I like this one best," begged Alex with a wink. "Can we keep 'em? Please?"

"We'll see," Krum said shortly, and returned to his stew.

Yakov let a huge grin spread across his face. "We're the Chasers, as I'm sure you've guessed. Now, what school?"

"Oh, um—Raffletoff."

"Really? You know Susan Biggins? She came over from England a few years back. She should be a fourth year," replied the boy curiously.

"No, never met her," replied Ekatrine taking another bite of her stew quickly. She would have to remember to get a book on her so-called old school.

Krum looked to the clock and then leaned over and said into Ekatrine's ear, "Eat quickly. We have a lot of work to do if you're going to get caught up."

Ekatrine wondered briefly if Krum knew she wasn't a guy. If he did, he let no sign of his knowledge slip out. She began to wonder again as she ate her stew why he hadn't said anything about her not actually being a transfer student. Perhaps he felt that if she wanted to lie, she could.

Huh, like I know what I'm supposed to say around people, she thought sarcastically.

Within the hour everyone had finished eating and after the Headmaster stood, they did as well, Krum again pulling on Ekatrine's shirt to make her stand at the same time. Dinner was over, and everyone returned to his or her respective Common Rooms.

"This way," Krum said, tugging her towards the main entrance into the school.

"Krum, where're you two going?" Alex shouted over the heads of his peers.

"Tour," Krum replied bluntly.

Alex gave a thumbs-up, and disappeared into the crowd along with the other Wrathoth players and students.

The two boys went out into the bitter cold. The light was dim, but Ekatrine was used to it. She had grown up much further North than where Durmstrang was located. She had spent the majority of her life in Archangel, a small city on the Baltic Sea.

"You have your wand?"

She pulled it from her pocket.

"Good. We're going to start in the stables. They're lit. Follow me," he led her across the grounds. It wasn't snowing this far South yet, as the year had only begun a few weeks ago. However, there was still a blanket of gray clouds that covered the setting sun and rising moon.

They entered the stables and Ekatrine looked around, thinking that she might see a dragon or some other mythical creature.

Krum closed the doors behind her and asked, "Raffletoff, huh?"

She shrugged; she rubbed her hands through her short, bristly hair to make sure that it was still as it was. She chose her answer very carefully, "I did some research on the school."

"So you thought you'd lie?"

"What did you want me to say?" she asked calmly. "This is all very new to me."

Krum wasn't impressed. He snapped, "Wizards are no different than Muggles. Do you lie to Muggles? Do you lie to your parents?"

Ekatrine clenched her jaw and didn't reply.

"You've interacted with Muggles before, haven't you?" snapped Krum. "Well, answer me!"

"If you must know," she replied as calmly as she possibly could, "I've interacted with Muggles three times in my life."

Krum snorted, "You think I'd believe that after the show you put on tonight? Karkaroff should call your parents and have you sent home. You won't make it here if you keep lying."

Again, the girl-turned-boy forced herself not to scream at him. She had to keep herself under control if she wanted to stay hidden from Lord Voldemort. "My parents are dead."

The Seeker opened his mouth and then closed it, thinking better of what he had been about to say. Finally, he asked, "You're not lying, are you?"

She shook her head.

"So you really don't know how to interact with people," he said softly.

Ekatrine lifted her eyes to him and replied softly, "They never really let me out of the house."

Krum shifted his weight uneasily. "I'm…sorry…"

She shrugged and rubbed at her flaming eyes, refusing to let herself cry in front of the boy. "You didn't know."

"Will you tell the others?"

She shrugged again so she wouldn't have to reply.

Curiosity got the better of him and Krum asked gently, "How long ago?"

"Four days."

"Wow," he said. "I'm sorry…really. Look, if you want the night off…"

"No," she replied curtly. "I need to get caught up as fast as I can. I know it's six years, but all I need is the basics, right?"

He nodded.

"Good," she said. "Let's start, then."

Krum began with the simple lumos and alohamora, and as evening turned to night, they progressed into a few other simple spells. Ekatrine's hands and wrists were stiff with the movements and her accent was off, so sometimes she would turn a stall green or the hay around them caught fire, but otherwise the night went well.

The next morning Ekatrine jumped when her alarm clock went off. She rolled over and looked at it, groaning softly. It was five forty-five, far too early to be awake.

Rolling out of bed, she quickly said, "Aramendo."

Once her form had changed she pulled her uniform on and stuffed her wand into its pocket.

She found the Houses bathroom and brushed her teeth. Realizing that she had no hair to brush anymore, she left, and then returned a moment later to relieve her full bladder.

There was no need for schoolbags—all of the classes had class-issued books, and every House had its own stock of the regular schoolbooks. Ekatrine met Viktor and the others in the Common Room.

"Just on time," he said with a half-smile. "Let's go."

"Hey, Krys," Alex said, sideling up on the new kids other side. "What was this note about? I found it on the floor of my room."

Ekatrine took in a deep breath and let it out. "Well…I, erm…lied about having gone to Raffletoff."

"I knew it! Headmaster Karkaroff doesn't allow just anyone into Durmstrang!" he crowed.

"Well, actually…I'm a Misinformed Muggle," she blurted. The other boys all stopped and looked at her blankly.

"A what?" asked Oleg curiously.

"A Misinformed Muggle," said Dusan slowly, "is a wizard or witch that grew up and was never invited to a magical school. It's pretty rare…"

She nodded, her stomach clenching. "I'm…sorry about lying. I wasn't sure how…well…"

"S'ok," said Alex quickly; rather a little too quickly. "We understand."

Oleg quirked an eyebrow and looked to Yakov who shrugged. "Sounds reasonable to me…"

Ekatrine let out a soft breath of air. The boys continued on without her, some of them whispering. She had expected as much. She started after them, falling a bit behind, lost in her own thoughts and emotions.

"I'm impressed," Krum said.

She jumped, having forgotten he was still with her. "It was nothing."

He smirked. "Like lying was nothing, huh?"

Ekatrine frowned and looked at him sidelong. "You're never going to let me forget, are you?"

"Friends make sure friends don't make the same mistake twice," he replied. They reached the dining hall and sat down with the others after the teachers had all collapsed into their chairs.

Ekatrine didn't need Krum to grab her and sat in perfect sequence with the others. She reached for her baked potatoes and eggs.

"Eggs!" gasped Alex from down the table. "Must be a special occasion!"

"Shut up and eat them, potato-brain," said Anton, shoving a fork-full into his own mouth. "Mmm…haven't had eggs since summer."

The other boys all ate the eggs just as gleefully, or at least for what passed as gleeful in the Durmstrang Institute.

When breakfast had ended, everyone stood the same way they had the night before. They headed out of the dining hall and into the rest of the school.

Ekatrine followed Krum, as her schedule was his. She noticed as she walked with him that the entire seventh year of the Wrathoth House were walking with them to their first class.

"Most of us are seventh years," said Anton seeing the confused look on the new boy's face.

"A lot of the younger kids can't take it, so they drop out. All of the first years through fourth years have their classes together."

"People transfer in usually fifth or sixth year," Oleg continued. "They find their other school's too easy, or their family's moved and they have to go to a new school. Most of the ones that come here are used to all-boy private schools."

Ekatrine nodded, her brain soaking up the information like a dry crop.

"So you never could have even met Susan Biggins, huh?" sighed Yakov. "Oh well. She was a hot girl, that one."

"Nothing like the girl Krum went with last year," sniggered Oleg. "You still with her?"

Alex laughed and said sarcastically, "I think she was a bit of a—"

"You say 'prat' and I'm going to hit you," interrupted Dusan coldly.

"Oh, you know you love that word," Alex grinned. "Just as much as potato-brain, and all the other things we call you."

"He went to England last summer to see his mummy," said Yakov. "Wittle Awex was wonwy." He made a face at the larger boy and ran down the hallway to escape the Beaters wrath.

Ekatrine hadn't really paid any attention to the last part of the conversation. She still heard Oleg's voice in her head, Nothing like the girl Krum went with last year…You still with her?

She felt something new come over her. An annoying tinge on the inside of her mind demanding to know who this girl was and whether or not Krum was still with her.

"So," Oleg said with a crooked grin, "You talk to Hermoine lately, Krum?"

Krum shrugged. "We write."

"Oh please," Anton said, "you two spent half of the Yule Ball—"

Viktor stepped on Anton's toes, pretending to have been shoved by a group of fifth years that had carefully avoided the larger group of boys.

"OUCH!"

"Sorry," Krum muttered. "Stupid fifth years."

Ekatrine turned to look behind her at the younger boys who clustered around the corner together. Her eyes fell onto Dusan, and his icy ones looked right into her. She shuddered, a feeling creeping over her that Dusan knew more than he was letting on.

She wondered why he was on the Quidditch team. He seemed to despise all of the other players, and certainly acted as though they weren't worth his time.

It was at that moment that Alex and Yakov raced by them and into their first class. Yakov had managed to dodge the older boy a few times, and laughed as Alex tried to throw a wad of paper at him.

The paper wad missed and instead hit the teacher.

Alex stopped and gawked as the teacher whirled around. He said very coldly, "Ah, yes…Alexander, get into your seat. Extra detention after classes."

He groaned. Ekatrine guessed that it was from the teacher calling him by his full name instead of the extra detention. Alex seemed rather used to recieving detentions.

The teacher turned his sharp eyes onto the rest of the seventh years. "Seats, now." He didn't bother to acknowledge Ekatrine, so she followed Krum and sat beside him.

"Parchment out, quills out, two-foot long essay on the second war of 210. Due at the end of class," the teacher wrote the assignment on the board before them briefly and then sat down at his desk and watched the class intensely.

Ekatrine found the parchment in her desk, right beside a quill and ink well. On the other side of the desk was a giant book that said blankly in Bulgarian, Magic Wars and Other History.

She grabbed the book and flipped it open, hoping that it was allowed. After measuring her parchment, she began the essay. Everyone else was scratching away as she silently flipped through the pages of the old and dusty book. She kept chewing on her lower lip as she searched for information.

Krum glanced over at Krystof and smirked to himself. The boy was taking the first class better than he had anticipated.

His back automatically tensed up at the professor approached them. He had taken to walking up and down the rows of desks to check the work so far. He never said anything, but whenever he paused to read someone's paper, they would begin to sweat and their hand began to shake as they wrote.

He reached Ekatrine and read her essay over her shoulder. He didn't move for a long moment, and Krum began to wonder if he was going to snap at Krystof for having his book out.

"Quills down," said the professor quickly. Everyone's quill snapped down at once, Ekatrine sitting up at straight as she could. The professor reached over her shoulder and pulled her essay from the desk.

Here is comes, thought Krum.

The professor tapped his black-shoed foot against the floor as he read the essay. Finally he said, "The second war of 210, as most of you have written on your parchment, did not start in, and I quote, "The first years of the second century A.D." As Mr. Uriov has written here, it started in the tenth year of the second century B.C. Can you comprehend that? B.C. Before Christ, not Anno Dmonie!" He set Krystof's parchment back down and marched to the front of the room, his eyes coldly scanning the room. "For the lack of wits and obvious idiocy, the rest of you can make the essay three feet, and I want it done before the class is over." When no one moved, he snapped, "Well, get writing!"

All of the quills in the room jumped to life and the boys began scratching away at their paper.

Krum smirked at Krys' luck. So, Vasska can have favorites. What luck.

The class ended nearly an hour later. Ekatrine got to her feet and followed Krum to the front of the room, her essay in hand. She handed it to the professor who took it without comment.

She left the room behind Alex and Viktor. Anton, Yakov, and Dusan sidled over to them, and Alex said, "I can't believe it! Vasska gave me another detention on top of the one I already have!"

"Professor," Krum said calmly.

"Maybe you shouldn't have thrown paper at him," Yakov sniggered.

"This is all your fault," grumbled Alex glaring at the boy. "If you hadn't ducked I would've—"

"You would've had another detention anyways," Anton said calmly. "Vasska doesn't like you."

"Professor Vasska," Krum repeated, though he hardly looked irritated.

"Yes, Mamo," Alex said with a wink at Ekatrine. "Whatever you say."

"What's next?" Ekatrine asked, hoping to break away from the discussion on the sallow professor.

Anton blurted, "Something that has to do with the Dark Arts."

"Potato-brain," growled Alex, "everything here has to do with the Dark Arts. Duh."

"Charms," Dusan replied from behind Ekatrine.

She turned and looked into his icy eyes, wondering how he managed to the look.

"Thanks."

He didn't reply.

When they had reached their Charms class the group of seventh years sat down in their chairs. Ekatrine found herself wondering silently why the seventh years didn't seem to have N.E.W.T. or O.W.L. classes. Once again she took her seat beside Krum.

The professor of the Charms class was of normal height, but had a rather cheerful smile plastered to his face. He had sallow, gray hair that cupped his face in twisted strands.

"Welcome back, boys! I assume you did your homework?"

There was a loud crack as the teacher waved his thin, black wand. A pile of rolled up parchment appeared on his desk. He waved his wand again and a number opened above the parchment pile.

"Eight?" he turned and flicked his wand again, a new number appearing above the class.

"Nine. Who didn't do their homework?" His smile looked forced, his ugly yellow teeth clenched together.

Ekatrine raised her hand.

"You? And you would be?"

"Krystof Uriov," she replied calmly.

"New, eh? Yes, yes, I've heard your name," he examined the boy quickly and said, "Krum, a new Beater?"

"No, Professor, not yet."

"Mr. Uriov looks able," the professor mused. "I am Professor Borka, by the way. I take it Mr. Krum is bringing you up to speed?"

Krum ignored the comment about Krystof being someone that looked like a Beater. Out of the entire school, only a few of them knew that the new boy had never flown before.

Ekatrine nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Good, good," he turned and walked back to the front of the classroom and began the lesson.

Ekatrine scribbled down as many notes as she could, again finding all of the needed materials inside of the desk. She didn't understand most of what was coming out of Borka's mouth, but had expected as much.

The rest of the day went similarly, Ekatrine meeting Professor Pavel, who taught Transfiguration; Professor Vova, teacher of Potions; and Professor Kostya, who in turn taught Defense Against the Dark Arts.

That afternoon after their last lesson, Alex said abruptly, "See you later, comrades. I have double-detention." He sulked off.

"Quadruple detention sounds more realistic," said Anton watching as the bulkier boy disappeared around a corner.

Ekatrine hardly smiled. She knew it was true. Alex had been asked to detention more times that day than she had ever thought possible.

Krum stated, "We have to go, too. Lessons…"

"It's still sunny out," mused Yakov. "You teach him how to fly today, yes?"

"You want to learn?" Krum asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Love to."

"Okay, go out to the stables," Krum decided. "I'll bring down my broom and show you how to—"

"No way!" gasped Yakov. "You won't even let us ride your broom!"

"He's not going to ride it, potato-brains," said Anton, looking sidelong at Krum. "Right?"

Dusan hissed, "Of course not. Krystof is a novice. By the way, Uriov, be sure to watch where you're going when Krum sends you up the third time. That could end up being a nasty fall."

Ekatrine merely gawked as the boy continued down the hallway. "What…?"

"He's crazy," said Anton under his breath, but he winked, showing he was kidding. At least, a little. "Totally nuts."

"Shut up, potato-brains," hissed Yakov. "He'll hear you."

Ekatrine raised an eyebrow in question. She turned to Krum, but he had already gone back to the Common Room.

Anton pulled Ekatrine next to he and Yakov by the edge of the hallway so that they weren't in traffic. "Look, don't say anything to him, but Dusan's…well…he creeps me out. Krum only let him on the team because he was the best."

"He doesn't have anyone else to hang around with," admitted Yakov. "He's nice enough, I guess. Just a little strange."

"Did you ever think that he might be a psychic?" Ekatrine asked, suddenly panicking. She hadn't thought of that before. If Dusan was a psychic that meant he probably knew her secret.

"Might be," admitted Anton. "He can foretell things, so my guess is that if he isn't, he's weirder than we originally thought."

Yakov laughed nervously. "We like him around, because sometimes he'll say things…like how he told you to watch out. He doesn't do it often—messes up time or whatnot."

"I have to go," she said suddenly, remembering she was supposed to meet Krum out in the stables. "I'll see you later."

The moment she left and turned the corner, she paused.

Yakov and Anton waited to see if Krystof had gone, and then they broke out laughing.

"You think he believed us?"

"Haha! Yeah!" laughed Yakov. "The look on his face was brilliant! I think we got 'em good this time—"

"Wonderful!" crowed Anton.

She listened as they walked down the hall, right past where she was hiding. Dusan appeared on her other side and asked, "You think they see the bar?"

Ekatrine jumped, but followed his hand, looking to a low-hanging wooden crossbar that had been placed in their path. It blended in wonderfully with the rest of the wood.

"Three, two, one…"

THUNK, THUNK!

"OUCH!"

"Holy crap, what was that?!"

Dusan chuckled to himself. "They think I don't know when they talk about me, but I do." He looked at Ekatrine intensely and finally said, "I'm not psychic…not in the way Muggles think people like me are. I can't read minds—but I can predict things through emotions."

Ekatrine froze. "Things like what?"

"Like how potato-brains like them are too stupid to see a trap," Dusan said, still staring at the girl-turned-boy, as if he might see the future in the person before him. "And how Krum isn't going to be happy if you're not there when he gets to the stables."

"Oh!" Ekatrine jumped. "Thanks, Dusan." She hurried down the hall, pausing to look back. The boy had disappeared once again. Anton and Yakov were still muttering about the wooden bar, examining it and yelling at each other as to why neither of them had seen it.

She smiled to herself. Dusan didn't seem so bad after all.