Materiam Superbat opus
The workmanship was better than the subject matter.
The frigid grounds of the empty castle was a welcoming sight. Familiar and yet so eerily foreign that every step he took felt like he was walking deeper into a completely different world. Though the country felt warmer in August, Durmstrang remained as cold as it always was when it was first made. It was strange to enter the castle before term began.
However, some exceptions were made as a letter from one of his professors arrived just days ago. A scheduled meeting, pertaining to his heavy workload.
Katerina Moroza hums as the enchantment of the castle seemed to seep into her throat and ears. A smile graced her lips, legs crossed as she tilted her head and sips on streaming hot coffee.
“Mister Peverell.” She chuckles, offering him the seat opposite to her.
“Professor,” Hyperion smiles quietly, obeying her orders. He takes a seat, relaxing for a mere second before his body goes stiff. A grin spreads across his face, strained and clearly apprehensive. “Forgive me for being blunt, but why have I been summoned?”
Katerina tuts softly, observing her student carefully. He's grown from the lanky boy that had entered the castle two years ago. Taller, more lean, more confident. She blames all those combat and duelling lessons that he had rushed into like a fish to water. It had been amusing when Friedrich Durchdenwald and Atla Enevoldsen happily gushed about how brilliant the boy was when it came to duelling. Though Durchdenwald was determined to shape the boy into a proper fighter and adjust that skinny physique of his.
“Regarding your studies.” She hums again, offering him some coffee that he has happily accepted with a smile on his face. Ah yes, coffee. “You are taking fourteen subjects, darling Peverell mine. It still astonishes me that you've managed to take that many classes without dropping dead. Even I was weak to my twelve subjects back then.”
Yes… darling Hyperion Peverell—the menace to the academic world. Far too many subjects are being taken.
“Four research papers.” She sternly reminds him but he doesn't hesitate to nod. “Are you capable of that? I understand that we allowed you to start early but it is still a handful. Will you manage to finish four research papers in ten months?”
“It's quantitative research,” he shrugs as if that statement alone could justify the insanity. “I can manage. I've already picked what topics I will be using for my research, including yours actually! But at the moment, I'm currently in the process of writing a draft for my POM paper.”
“I see… has your Professor approved of the title and topic?”
“Yes. I spoke to professor Tasev before the last term ended.” Hyperion admits, setting the coffee down. “Speaking of which, I had wished to show you my topic and title for my arcane research. I need a second opinion on it.”
Katerina considers it for a moment. Some students were given special privileges due to more responsibilities. Hyperion was amongst the students insane enough to take more than three electives, which resulted in their schedules being extremely tight. Such privileges included starting their research earlier than most if they were required to make more than two research papers.
“Let's see it.” She sighs, offering up her hand.
Hyperion’s eyes practically start sparkling as he takes out some parchment from his pocket, waving his wand to magnify it back to its original size. She peers down at it, her lips drawn into a thin line as she reads through the title and what seems to be a summary of his topic.
Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the paper. A frown mars her face as she turns to the fidgeting Hyperion, who sheepishly smiles at her.
“You're delving into Necromancy?”
“Yes.”
Katerina can't believe it. This boy, this child intended to delve into one of the oldest of magicks. She would have scolded him if he was someone else but this was different—this was Hyperion Peverell. A boy descended from the family rumoured to be one of the first necromancers.
“You will need to be carefully monitored if you wish to pursue this.” She bluntly explains, tossing his paper back on to her desk. “The headmistress must be informed of your experimentations and a teacher will be required to supervise you for every single one. Hyperion, you must understand that if you take one wrong step… your research will be terminated immediately.”
“Hence why I am having you review the draft before I proceed. I have a backup, much safer but at the same time—less interesting than this one.” He takes back the parchment and sucks in a deep breath. Green eyes peer curiously at her, as if he was trying to dissect her soul. “Necromancy is an untouched part of magic. Inferi are butchered versions of what Necromancy truly is. And every single department of mystery in the world contains at least a chamber of death of sorts. Yet discoveries have not been made. At the very least, I am able to shed light on the side effects of necromancy through my research.”
Katerina tuts again. Ambitious child.
“You are but a boy. What makes you think that an adult cannot do what you do?”
“Because they are not Peverells.” He firmly tells her, sitting straighter and staring into her eyes. “They've had years to progress in necromantic research and yet nothing has been discovered. They've never had their hands on books that contain the very heart of necromancy itself.”
“And how will this contribute to our world?”
“Warnings, pursue with caution, perform at your own risk.” He drawls, leaning back against his chair with his signature smile. “A study like this gives insight to the dangers of necromancy. Not many are suited for it yet they continue to pursue magic for the sake of… well… Magic. They will procure such maladies that cannot be easily identified as necromancy hasn't been properly practised in centuries. So, for future individuals who wish to perform necromancy, I give them warnings of what may come for dabbling with arcane magic.”
A research paper was written to inform; it was a piece of information solely created to offer wisdom to others. To prevent, to pursue, to caution, to encourage. Katerina understands this intimately as she herself was vehemently passionate in her own research. She can see those viridian eyes reflect the fire that she once had and reluctantly—loathingly she must admit—she smiles at him.
“Very well then. I will oversee your experimentations myself if Headmistress Romanov approves of this study. Once you present this to Sir Zolotov.” Katerina assures, already taking out some parchment and ink to write to the headmistress. “But do take care of your health, Hyperion. Your sister still continues to write to me about your health while you are here.”
Hyperion groans, whining like a child as he frowns at her.
“Fret not, Professor. I have a very loyal house elf who makes amazing coffee and an amazing sister who is also working on her own research. Which has caused her to charm our clock to make noise at time intervals to remind us to rest.” Hyperion sighs, shaking his head fondly and frustratedly. “My sister also sends kind regards. Even though I am not quite pleased that she's decided to write to my professor about some personal matters, I do appreciate the care.”
“How can I not care for my favourite student?”
Katerina examines him quietly, watching as he finishes his coffee and chuckles softly. Yes, this ambitious and daring child was her favourite among all her students.
Another day, another Wizengamot meeting. The reform was a tiresome ordeal but a necessary one.
Marvolo Gaunt dusts off none existent dirt on his sleeves, trying not to sneer at the sight of the crowded atrium. Two years and it still baffles him how much has changed in so much time compared to the decades he's spent trying to improve everything to his designs. He's tried the political route before but it wasn't as effective as his current plans—only altered to match the present.
The two years had felt longer than the decades. So much work, so much change. It was almost dizzying if the results hadn't brought utter delight into his dreary life. Destroying Dumbledore had felt delicious.
“Ah, Lord Black.” Marvolo can't help but grin, tilting his head when he catches sight of the shifty lord. “Merry met.”
“Merry met…” Black mutters quietly, glaring at him before turning away.
Sirius Black was a peculiar case for him. Troublesome as always but he was useful in his own ways. Giving the man freedom hadn't been his intention at the very beginning but he proved him otherwise. He was useful indeed, but the joy of tormenting Dumbledore by having Sirius Black was the best feeling he could ever have. Seeing that loathing expression was but a mere bonus to everything.
“I am quite surprised that you are early for the meeting. Is there a problem?” He cordially asks, making sure he was at least two steps in front of Black. He looks at the man, who begrudgingly does not adjust his pace to walk in front of him.
“Madame Bones insisted upon my presence. Another discussion regarding the educational reforms and the repeal of laws. Ones that were apparently done with the vote of my house during its time of proxy.” Black snarls but controls his expression as quickly as possible. He looks around the curious eyes that follow them, sending some individuals charming smiles that left them swooning.
Disgusting.
“Another educational reform. Interesting.” Marvolo hums, descending upon the steps to enter the lower floor. “Mister Abbott has spoken to her again then.”
“Yes…” Black glances warily at him. “I don't know much about it…”
Of course he doesn't.
He turns to the footsteps slowly getting louder, humming a soft tune as Black sputters behind him.
“Hello Lucius, nice of you to join us on this fine day.”
“My... Lord Gaunt.” Lucius quickly corrects himself, the pest struggling to keep appearances regardless of stupendous reputation as a well-mannered and subtle Slytherin. “Forgive me for eavesdropping but I heard bits of your conversation. Apologies.”
“Forgiven. But are you aware as to why Julius Abbott has called in the Wizengamot for yet another issue in our country's education?”
“I've only heard bits from my wife, who spoke with Mister Abbott's wife. From what I've heard, the teacher is not enough to help the Department of Education and the School board understand the situation with the teachings of Dark Magic.” Lucius explains, curt and concise as usual. “Abbott intends to inquire about an exchange program to see the differences between the schools.”
Black mumbles something incoherent under his breath. Soon enough, he speaks up, “Durmstrang won't agree to that. Grandfather has repetitively explained of how possessive they are of their students. Their new headmistress guards her students jealously. Managing to hire Solovyava was a miracle.”
“And I am to assume that Lady Cassiopeia is the one to state the latter part.”
“Yes… Great Aunt thinks highly of the new headmistress. A former…” he paused, faltering before seeming to remember. “The former Arcane studies professor…”
Marvolo perks up at the name of the subject. Arcane studies—Durmstrang offered such a variety of subjects that he was astounded by it. The mere fact that their students could delve into old magicks at the age of thirteen was surreal in his opinion—not an issue considering the clear gap between Hogwarts and other schools. Truly, he found it rather fascinating that young minds could be exposed to it. Whilst Hogwarts, presumed to be the best of the best, was horrifically behind.
The legalities regarding Dark magic were strained at best but with time—soon, hopefully—the restrictions would finally let up. If possible, they could restrict some light magic as well if they deemed it too dangerous. A possibility, of course, considering how he used bits of light spells himself to cover up his tracks in the past.
Surely, the fanatics that followed Dumbledore would cause an uproar if they heard that light spells were being banned. Hypocritical bastards, that they were.
“Well then, gentlemen, I suppose we must prepare ourselves for yet another international meeting for the educational reforms.” Marvolo bitterly chuckled, smiling at other heads of houses as he took his seat on the left side of the courtroom. The dark faction slowly filtered in, with him being sat beside Black. He would have expected for Lord Arcturus Black to be in attendance, but his heir was finally released and took that seat for him.
As usual, Black was apprehensive of him.
Ah well, he couldn't comfort the man; he never intended to. He was a useful pawn in this game of theirs.
Court began once all the members of the court were finally present. With Amelia Bones taking her rightful seat at the very front—the same chair Dumbledore had once sat on.
The next few bills being passed were drawl and quite boring. Lucius and Dowager Lestrange were ruthlessly striking down bills that continued to advocate for the elimination of old magicks that were making the muggleborns “uncomfortable”. The utter fools. They enter their world and expect for them to change? The muggleborns were essentially rejecting magic itself through such deeds. But then again, how could they understand the beauty of their culture if agendas such as these were being put to court?
Lord Fawley was particular about the elimination of the bill to bring back Samhain, to which Adrik Nott defied his ailing bones to shoot up from his seat. “Fool! How are we to honour our dead? In my time, we were free to mourn and honour our kin in the afterlife and you say that we mustn't practise it any longer. The muggleborns are ignorant of this sacred holiday because it was removed in the very beginning, they cannot honour their own dead because Samhain was promptly removed.”
In the light faction, Dowager Longbottom takes a stand and levels Lord Nott with a respectful look.
Marvolo almost grins. Ah yes, the individuals from his generation. Samhain was still widely practised when he first entered Hogwarts. It was only in his sixth year that a bill to outlaw it was passed.
“Lord Nott makes a fair point. The removal of Wix holidays has inevitably influenced our entire community. How are we to call ourselves wixen when we celebrate muggle holidays? These holidays are not to simply celebrate the year, but to honour lady magic, our deities. Yule is all we have left and even then, Hogwarts celebrates Christmas rather than Yuletide.” Dowager Longbottom sternly glared at Maximus Fawley. The young lord avoided her gaze. “Samhain honours not only Lady Magic, but our kin, our fallen. Many of us have struggled over the years to pay respects to our magical kin in the proper way because of Samhain being outlawed. So…”
Dowager Longbottom addresses the court, “How are we to honour and pay respects to our fallen family and friends without Samhain? How are we to offer bits of our magic to show the love we still have for those who've passed?”
Lord Nott nods, “I couldn't have said it better.”
Lord Fawley wilts as even the Light faction comes to agree with the Dowager Longbottom—with her infamous temper. The decision was thus postponed and would be announced at the end of court, as per the words of Acting-Chief Warlock Bones.
Marvolo quickly struck down bills that would hinder his plans; most of which included the outlawing of certain magic (again) and the stricter restrictions on magical creatures. Black had been useful in that aspect, viciously tearing through the unfortunate Lady in the Grey faction that thought Werewolves were more monster than human.
“Ah… there he is.” Marvolo hums as he gestures to Julius Abbott, who was a Grey wizard of a light family. The man was the younger brother of the current Lady of the House, preferring to viciously advocate for the advance of education compared to his predecessor who had complied to the whims of the Headmaster.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, my fellow wixen of the court.” He cleared his throat, standing in the middle of the courtroom with his hands firmly placed behind him. “I would not be required to bring this to court if not for the fact that the plans of my department are hindered by bills that are still being submitted to the court.” He subtly glances at the light faction, before turning back to Bones.
“At the moment, Hogwarts is still progressing with its reform. The new classes: Dark Studies, Culture and Traditions, and Wizarding Etiquette. Two out of those three subjects are being handled appropriately by the staff, the board, and my own department. However…” he trails off, sucking in a deep breath before summoning a folder. Copies of said folder were then passed to every member of the court, all who simultaneously opened it.
Marvolo observed the parchment with intrigue. They were statistics of the most of the grades among the students from the first of September to the third of October—the present. Etiquette and Culture were being handled indeed, as the grades of every student taking the subject were quite decent. However…
“Dear Merlin…” he hears Black mutter, glancing at the wide eyed man who practically sticks his nose into the file to see if he had seen correctly.
The statistics of Dark Studies were horrendously low. Even when the Professor hired—an alumnus of Durmstrang—was famed to be brilliant in her time of apprenticing with Durmstrang’s own famous Dark Studies professor.
Either the student refused to learn or they genuinely could not grasp the mere concept of Dark Studies.
“As you can see, the majority of the students have notably low grades. From reports given by the teachers, and Roksana Solovyova herself, they suspect that students still have some bias towards Dark Magic. This must be rectified, yes, thus I had suggested an exchange program with Durmstrang specifically…” Abbott grimaces, “Headmistress Romanova, however, is protective of her students and refuses to allow one of them to enter Hogwarts, firmly stating that the stigma towards Dark Magic could potentially harm the student.”
“That is absurd!” Lady Parkinson gasps, and yet even she falters upon the possibility that a student of Durmstrang, a child who was exposed to Dark Magic for half of their life, could be harmed due to the bias.
Marvolo then spoke, “I can understand Headmistress Romanova’s protective nature. The past reports of infighting amongst the students are concerning. Houses alone are not the cause of fights, but also magical cores. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall has admitted that some of her students, Gryffindors, were forced to repress the nature of their own magic to avoid any sort of hostility in their own house.”
Beside him, Black flinches.
Amelia Bones gravely nods, also understanding the vicious protectiveness of the Headmistress.
“However,” Julis quickly adds and the murmurs die down. “Headmistress Romanova has revealed that Durmstrang has a small few who are from the British Isles. Some being transferees, from what I understand. Do take this information lightly as Headmistress Romanava was quite reluctant to reveal such information.”
Pity, Marvolo scoffs. The woman had pitied them—Hogwarts specifically. But it was not just pity. If anything, it was an unsaid insult to them that a child of Hogwarts had fled to their castle for whatever reason. Most likely safety and acceptance from people who villainized the dark magic that had manifested within them.
If Marvolo had been given the option of transferring to Durmstrang, perhaps he would have done so. His younger self was obsessed with Hogwarts, but him in the present? Marvolo could understand that dark magic was accepted and welcomed in Durmstrang.
“Quite right… and what is to be done with this information?” Bones asks, apprehensive as she herself was highly concerned with the state of Hogwarts. Her own niece was a student after all.
“She has discussed this with the staff and plans to ask the permission of the students to be interviewed. I am to understand that the students are from different age groups and some may decline for reasons.” Julis explains, hurriedly taking out a letter from his robes. “But the deputy headmaster has written that two students have already agreed to an interview, with the condition that a professor Durmstrang will supervise. Would this be adequate?”
Another wave of murmurs move through the court.
Marvolo considered the notion quietly. Whoever the students were, they were smart to insist on supervision. He would have to make sure that at least one unbiased member of all three factions were present for the interview—him preferably, if it came to the Dark Faction.
“Yes,” Amelia sighs, nodding quietly as she turns back to the court who were nodding in agreement. If no exchange programme could happen, then this was all they could do. “Have we scheduled a date?”
“Er… yes!” Julis quickly checks the letter again, “By the 20th of this month, they say.”
“Yes, inform the Hogwarts staff of this. They will be involved in the interview, along with Professor Solovyova. She's most likely taught these students herself.” Amelia reviewed her notes again, “Is there anything to add?”
Marvolo blinks as he sees Lord Nott raise his hand, garnering questioning looks from their peers. “My grandson, Theodore, has recently transferred back to Hogwarts to fulfil his heir duties. If possible, could he be involved in the interview? He is a British student who attended Durmstrang. He was one of those transferees.”
It was not widely known that Theodore Nott had transferred to Durmstrang and returned till the Malfoy anniversary party where the boy re-emerged to the social scene. He had made waves by telling tales of Durmstrang, which Marvolo took great interest in. Alas, old Adrik protected his heir like a dragon to its eggs.
Marvolo observed Amelia Bones quietly. The Nott heir was already a Hogwarts student so there wouldn't be international repercussions. Plus, the boy would have a proper comparison to the Hogwarts pre-reform, Durmstrang, and the current Hogwarts.
If he were to have a say in that decision, then he'd support it wholeheartedly.
Since the start of September, seventh years were already running around or walking like the undead. No in-between. Research papers in exchange for exams, teachers had declared. Though not all subjects were like this. Some bad double-exams, written and practical, caused seniors to already weep at the end of the first week.
Harry trudges through the halls, robes bellowing through the frigid wind. Autumn has already approached and soon would come winter. He himself felt like he had been killed and dragged back from the dead, but that was his own karma for choosing five electives to pair with Durmstrang’s busy schedule of ten core subjects.
Hermione would have loved the damn school if they didn't forbid the entry of muggleborns. Horribly, he could understand why they were banned, considering the massive decline of Hogwarts and the paranoia of the witch hunts centuries ago. Though, he still did not advocate for the discrimination and awful treatment of muggleborns. Who their parents were was not their fault. They were blessed to have magic in bloodlines scarce of it.
“Hyperion.”
Grudgingly, he turns and glares at his fellow Englishman. Well, Harry was more inclined to Durmstrang anyways.
“Nice of you to grace me with your presence, Aurelia.” Harry mocks, clutching his books closely. He knows that she knows who he used to be. But she was nice—reluctantly—enough to dangle it above his head. “What do you need from me this time?”
“You act as if I only approach you if I want something.” Aurelia rolls her eyes, adjusting her pace to walk beside him. “Besides, Nott has left and you are one of the few who can understand the utter pain of being a former Hogwarts student. I'm quite happy that my family pulled me out after my first year.”
“Cut to chase already. I need to work on my Transfiguration research.”
“I still don't quite understand why you chose the research paper over the exam. You would have aced it.”
Harry waves her off, “Too easy. And studying would make my brain hurt. I'd rather work on something long term that would actually benefit me in the future.”
“Ambitious, as per usual. Weren't you a Gryffindor? How did the hat not shove you into Slytherin?”
“My charisma and family luck.” He sends her a charming smile. He was definitely charismatic since who else was grand enough to convince the hat to put them into the house of their choice?
Aurelia rolled her eyes—again. Gods, he really would slap her at some point.
“Alright then. I've heard from the vineyard that Hogwarts is struggling with Dark Magic.” She chuckles, almost condescending when she speaks of it.
They enter the library and it's a horrible time for him to loudly laugh. The librarian sends him a scathing look that promises hell, making them scurry off to the corner they usually tucked themselves into. Others would join on occasion, but they were in their final year and were frantically trying to perfect required assignments just to graduate.
“Really now? Theo hasn't written about that.” He sighs, a tad irked. “But I suppose he hasn't heard of it yet. Then, child of a seer bloodline, enlighten me with the most recent geschwätz (chatter/gossip) from our former school.”
Magic wraps around their throats, translating their words to those around them. Nothing can dampen the translation runes that were etched into every brick that made Durmstrang. No secrets could be hidden from the languages unless it was a magical one. Harry is quite happy that hissed could not be turned into human words.
Aurelia is adept at three languages. Harry knows four—five if he were to count the magic that stings his soul and runs through his throat.
“They're giving Roksana trouble.” She scoffs, arms crossed with her books sprawled across the table. Possessively placed on her side so as to not mix with Harry's. “Her reputation will plummet just as the statistics of grades fall. She is brilliant and blazing and yet that wretched school drags down her brilliance with bigotry and blindness.”
“So many B-words.” Harry snickers.
“Shut up.”
“No conversation can work if one ‘shuts up’.” He mockingly replies, shaking his head. “But what does this have to do with me?”
“Us, you cocky cunt.” Aurelia spits out, glancing at students who level her with disapproving eyes for her vulgar words. She waves them away before addressing him again, cautious and almost paranoid. “Someone suggested an exchange program. The headmistress rejected it, but the staff has agreed that students that have come from the British Isles or have family attending Hogwarts are to be interviewed in order to help with the situation.”
Durmstrang was a prison and yet it was a sanctuary. Built by Nerida Vulchanova who was a mother to no child from her own womb but a mother to children who ran from flames and were hidden in the depths of cold castle walls. Not all of her successors have that frigid warmth to them that made them parents to their students. Karkaroff was no Vulchanova but perhaps the new Headmistress was guided by her warm touch and desire to protect children she calls her own.
(“Why Durmstrang?” Hermione had questioned when he first fled, running to a different country and almost destroying himself as he forced magic to displace him. He returned, illegal portkey in hand, and coaxed her away from the destruction. Back then, he had no answer to tell her.
Why Durmstrang? Why not the other schools?
Find what you seek in the cold darkness of the castle built by a mother who bore no child. Death had whispered and Harry found himself at the doorstep of a very confused witch in Russia.)
“And what do you want to do?”
There is not much to do. Fate is cruel but Death was kind in the cruellest of ways.
Harry has rewritten a future that will never happen. Even as time splits into two, a path in which he had abandoned upon his own demise, dragged back to a point in his life by an entity that many feared and ran from. He's curious as to what will happen the more he takes this into his life, the more he forgets paths of his own.
“I'll follow you.” Aurelia does not know the true weight of those words. So heavy and deep that it sinks into them both. “If you choose to go through with that interview and return, then I'll follow you. Think of it as a big ‘fuck you’ to my father who didn't have the balls to accept a dark witch for a daughter.”
“Hm… well, I suppose helping Roksana would be required. As you've said, Hogwarts is dragging her down.” Harry chuckles, mockery and guilt tinged in his voice. Hogwarts was once home but it felt like a den of vipers and wolves after that long dream. Horrible, horrible dream. “I'm sure they'll be motivated when they see me.”
Vicious little thing, he shudders as a cold hand caresses his cheek, shifting to trace his spine but he keeps smiling. Aurelia does not notice, checking on her notes for her own Dark Studies paper.
“You just want to spite them don't you?”
“Prepare your Dark Studies notes, Lia. We have teachers to lecture.”