The Darkness of the Soul

The first-year students who arrived looked much like Hogwarts students - many of them looking far too young to be on their own. They were dressed in their new school robes, red cloth and fur, and as they walked up the switchbacks carrying their trunks, they were led in the school song.

Second-years and later didn't come from the ship at all. Apparently, they were brought by carriages from nearby villages, and they were allowed to cross the drawbridge. The switchbacks and the ship were Durmstrang's equivalent of the boat ride across the lake at Hogwarts. All things considered, Harry preferred the boat ride - at least they didn't have to carry their own trunks.

There were some significant differences between these students and the ones at Hogwart's. There was an indefinable element of pride, which Harry hadn't seen in many of the people that he met in his old school. The ones who had come to school with self-confidence were mostly arrogant thugs, like Malfoy. Even Hermione, who had every reason to feel full confidence in her abilities, had arrived at school certain that she wouldn't be able to compete, and had never really gained much in the way of self-assurance.

In contrast, these students seemed to have a sense that they belonged here. Some of them may have been nervous, but there were no Neville Longbottoms in this crowd. There were also few that held the questioning, awe-inspired look that he had worn during his first year. He supposed that meant that there were less Muggle-borns among the crowd. Did that mean that they didn't keep an eye out for Muggle-borns, the way the Ministry did in Britain?

Harry also noticed that the wizards far outnumbered the witches among the students. He didn't know why that was, but he supposed that, given a choice, a witch might prefer to attend a school that was a trifle more feminine than the dark gothic castle. That, or they might have more overprotective parents, who were less willing to risk them at a school known for the Dark Arts.

As the first years entered the inner courtyard, he noticed that the others had organized themselves into eight groups, organized almost regularly around the courtyard, which had twelve equal sides. They seemed to have oriented themselves into ranks by age, and they'd left space behind themselves for the new arrivals. The inner courtyard was walled, inside the larger outer courtyard, and Harry had been told that it was used mainly for school functions like this.

As Harry watched, the new arrivals stacked their trunks near the entrance, and proceeded to the middle. They seemed to be waiting for something.

There was a sound in the background, the beating of a deep drum. It started to get louder, and Harry realized it was coming from the castle itself. The spires shook as the beat sounded, slowly pounding, about a beat a second.

After nearly a minute of this, the houses started to sing, all together, but each house singing a different song. It was beautiful, and very different from the cacophony of Hogwarts. Each house seemed to be singing its own anthem, but they all seemed to harmonize. His Translation charm overloaded, Harry couldn't make out more than the odd word, but he had a sense of martial strength and fierce pride. At some points, they all sounded the same word or note together, and the effect was like a hammer hitting an anvil.

Then they stopped, and Girard addressed the students. The beat was still sounding in the background. "Welcome to Durmstrang Academy. You have been selected because you are among the best, and we have great faith in your ability to carry forward our school's reputation.

"You will shortly be selecting your House. You will remain with your House as long as you are at Durmstrang. Your House is like your clan, or your pack - you will work together, you will succeed together, or you will suffer together.

"A few announcements before we begin. Students are not to leave the grounds of Durmstrang without permission from a Professor and the Head of their House. This permission will not be granted in the first month of term, and will rarely be granted for those in their first year here.

"Students are reminded that they are expected to act like Gentlemen." Harry could almost hear Hermione bristling at this comment, even though she wasn't here. He knew she'd ask, what about the witches? "Students are also reminded that Durmstrang does have an extensive Honor Code, which you are expected to follow. This code was distributed to all students with their start of semester supply lists, and an extra copy is available in the Castellan's office."

"The winning House from last year is House Dalmuti. They distinguished themselves last year with both academics and good behavior. They are also the current holders of the House Quidditch cup. House Dalmuti will be honored at dinner tonight.

"The sorting will now commence. First year students - as I call your names, you will proceed through the portal to my right. You will receive a sign of your house during the sorting. When you return to the courtyard, you will join your house, standing at attention in the back." The portal in question was a stone archway, one piece, made of a smooth white stone with black engraved runes in it. It was in the side of one of the courtyard walls, but Harry couldn't see anything through it - it looked as black as coal. He had noticed the arch earlier, but thought it was merely decorative - until the ceremony began, the black center had appeared solid white. There was another arch facing it, on the other side of the courtyard.

Girard started to read the names, slowly. Harry counted, and noticed that he waited twelve beats after each name. They weren't being read alphabetically - Harry wasn't sure what the scheme was, nor did he notice a pattern, except that he saw that first year students that were standing together usually seemed to be called together.

It took over a half-hour for Girard to call the names, but it took closer to two hours before everyone returned through the other portal. The fastest anyone came back was only about ten minutes, Harry guessed, but they didn't seem to come back in the same order that they were called. Each came back with an amulet around his neck, which seemed to have some sort of emblem.

He was privately horrified at the state that some of them returned in. A few seemed covered with bruises or hives, and one young witch had a bleeding wound on her temple. She seemed dazed, but no one moved to help her, and Girard shot Harry a warning glance, as if he was afraid that Harry would embarrass them all. He stood his place, though privately wishing he could do something to help the eleven-year-old child. He knew that even Professor Snape would have had trouble acting callous among all these hurt children, especially since none of them were Gryffindors or related to James Potter.

By the time that they had all returned, the sun had dropped behind the mountains, and it was fully dark. As soon as the last student took his place, they started singing again, and preceded to walk towards the Houses, which were in various small keeps inside the outer courtyard. As they walked, the beating trailed off, but they sang until they were beyond earshot.

The Professors seemed to march together, and Harry followed, trying not to be too out of place. Girard hadn't really prepared him for this. They progressed into the main building, where they went to the Great Hall and dined alone.

Harry didn't want to be the first one to break the silence, so he was quiet during dinner. He wasn't sure why there weren't any students there - he wondered if they were being forced to fast.

After dinner, they left, walking towards their respective quarters.

Harry's quarters were in one of the surrounding spires, although not at the top. They consisted of a large open room with a bed and a fire, and a smaller room for entertaining, with a dumbwaiter and speaking tube to the kitchen. He hadn't seen a house-elf here yet, but he assumed that they served here just as they did elsewhere. No one answered in words when he used the tube, but any food requests that he made were quickly answered through the dumbwaiter.

He had windows, which he had needed to work hard to open. They were framed with the same thickly stained and leaded glass as all the other windows he'd found here, letting through little non-diluted light. Apparently, the previous residents hadn't cared much, as the gears to the mechanism that opened them were worn with age.

At least, opened, they were large enough to be useful. The window was almost five feet wide, and six feet tall, with a large stone ledge on either side. It was inset nearly a yard inside the wall, presumably so that people would have trouble seeing inside. There was a small hole in the roof of the outside window sill, which connected to a trough above - Harry had found a pamphlet on defending Durmstrang which suggested pouring boiling potions into the trough if there was any attempt to breach through the window.

It looked like there had been bars at one point on the outside sill, but he was glad that they had been removed - it was one place where defense had been compromised in favor of comfort or personal freedom, he decided, which proved that the school wasn't entirely unredeemable.

He opened the window, now, enjoying the evening air. As he did, he saw a shape in the distance, and wondered if he should start preparing a potion for the hole.

The shape split into two, and Harry could see that there were two owls, one mostly brown, the other largely white, flying towards the tower - straight for his window, in fact. At the last moment, one of them flew upwards and away from the window, while the other plowed through, and then alighted on Harry's arm. She looked winded and wearied from what was undoubtedly a long trip, but she was still immediately recognizable. "Hedwig!"

Harry carried her over to the speaking tube, and asked for a treat for an owl. The dumbwaiter arrived a few minutes later with a small cage with a pair of white mice and a bowl of water - not quite what Harry had envisioned, but Hedwig looked eager to dig in, and he couldn't deny her the opportunity. He put the cage out on the windowsill and opened it, with the bowl next to it, and he left Hedwig to eat. Before he did, though, he removed her cargo from her leg - a small scroll, tied with a red ribbon.

He opened the scroll, wondering who had found him, and what they'd had to say.

It was from Ginny.

The fact that she was writing to him meant that she was alive, that she'd regained consciousness. Harry hadn't realized how much he had assumed she wouldn't, how much he'd assumed that she was totally and utterly lost, until he found that she was alive.

The letter wasn't too long, and it didn't seem to say much of substance. Remembering Umbridge's willingness to read his mail, she probably hadn't trusted it to anything important.

She apologized for her prior letter, the one she'd sent him at Hogwarts. It hadn't even occurred to him that the letter was written after she knew about the Orpheus curse, and that, in retrospect, it had been a pretty transparent attempt at protecting him. It was an attempt to hurt his feelings that only made sense if she really cared. Trying to follow the logic of that made his head hurt, but somehow he couldn't work up any anger at Ginny. She'd tried to protect him by untruth, the same as Dumbledore and the rest, but it was clear she'd only done it because she was following their lead - even then, she might have spilled it to him, if he hadn't unknowingly insulted her first.

Ginny didn't say how she'd found him, but did say that there was more she wished she could tell him, and that she hoped he'd give her a chance. He couldn't see any way of that happening, though - he wasn't going to return to England for anything, since there was every chance he'd lose his soul to a Dementor, and he'd probably get Ginny in trouble, too.

There were a few other pieces of news - Remus Lupin had broken with Dumbledore, and was living entirely on his own again, whereabouts unknown. Bill was getting married to Fleur, finally, and moving in with her in Paris, working with the Gringott's branch there. There was nothing about Hermione, though.

Harry sighed - it looked like life was going on back in England, without him, and like they didn't have any need for the Boy Who Lived. If he didn't have anything else, he'd just have to throw himself into his work here.