After we had prepared everything and rehearsed our names we were ready to apparate straight into Valdemar. I was worried about the fact we didn't speak their language, but then again, it was solved by a nifty little artifact, created by Grindelwald.
"Don't lose it." He warned us while we fixed the blood-drop-like pins on our old-fashioned black wizarding robes. "It would reveal both of your true accents and make you unable to understand the language."
"It's going to be fine." I answered with a shrug, still feeling off a little. We both took a swing of polyjuice potion and had multiple others ready in our bags. Right now, both of us have blonde hair and blue eyes, similar to Grindelwald's appearance.
"It's fine, we will be careful." Quincy confidently nodded before Grindelwald clamped down on our shoulders, and we reappeared in an abandoned-looking basement.
The air was musky and sour, while most of it was filled with dust, ancient wine bottles, and a dozen or so spiderwebs. Unpetrubed, he walked up the stairs, and with a flick of his wand, the door swung open, leading us into a deserted house.
"If someone stops us," He turned around, saying it only once, "Let me talk first. Children are not allowed to argue when adults are present."
"Mm." Not that we thought of debating when we were here to slip into Durmstrang.
The town was similar in size to Hogsmeade, with the only difference being that the buildings here were made of red bricks, and their roofs were colored with black tiles, while some had ancient copper crests hanging above the doors. He warned us that this place takes bloodlines just as seriously as Voldemort's regime. The only difference was that the new generation was becoming more open-minded and welcoming, placing power above blood purity.
When we asked about it, he told me that was part of his idea just the same, back in the old days. Someone's origin means nothing, and what only matters is their proficiency in magic. Muggle-born or Pure-blood... it is the argument of the weak. After his expulsion and then later his defeat, that idea suffered a lot around here. The younger generation was just now finding the same beliefs, starting to consider that maybe the old ways were outdated. Wrong.
"Come, we will visit the school's representative in the town. They are usually a family who are close to the Headmaster."
We didn't need to go far because we found Archduke Rasmussen in a three-story, spacious villa. At first, their house elf didn't want to let us in, but after telling them who we were and why we were coming to visit, a human servant shortly let us in, leading us directly into a spacious, well-decorated room.
"Welcome to the oldest town of Wizards and Witches you can find not just in Europe but in the whole world!" The Archduke laughed, walking into the room, and I tried not to look too hard. He was comically small, shorter than Quincy, and I was doubting whether he was human or not. It was hard to tell because of his bushy, white hair sticking out from under the wizarding hat he wore and his long beard sweeping the floor as he walked up to us.
Quincy and I looked away at the same time after greeting him with a bow, acting in sync, both of us trying our hardest to hold back our laughs. On the other hand, Grindelwald was unperturbed, beginning to talk to him, bringing up the stories he had heard about the Archduke's father and how he supported Grindelwald in the olden days. Heh, lucky they didn't keep photos around...
After about half an hour of bootlicking and boring nonsense, he finally began speaking about why we were there. I watched him present multiple documents detailing the family lineage and even putting forward old relics that I guess he got from the family graves. I knew that such things were usually protected by magic related to one's bloodline, so no wonder the Archduke was getting less and less skeptical.
"I will relay this to Headmaster Karkaroff at once. We are short-staffed and in need of similar, prestigious offers!" He answered with a smile that was more slimy than the underside of some flobberworms. "But you must know that even if you are going to be accepted as a teacher, your children..." He took a glance at us, but we did not say anything, following the rules Grindelwald warned us about. No speaking until an adult permits it.
"They are better than what their age shows."
"Are they...?"
"A guarantee it, Archduke Rasmussen. Whatever test Durmstrang may throw at them, they will triumph in it. My descendants may not have attended any magical school, but they have received my training and the knowledge of my family's line. I assure you, it is more than enough."
"We will see about that..." He grunted, daring to show a bit of displeasure. Well, he was a high-ranking wizard, so I guess it is okay... and they wouldn't want someone who wasn't a bit boastful and unable to show enough of a backbone. "Well, go to the Slumbering Dragon Inn and tell Miss Ludmila that I will foot the bill for your stay." He clapped, signaling that it was the end of the discussion. "I am going to visit the school and speak with the Headmaster, and then we will know better! I am sure that he will be happy to hear that there are old families, finally willing to take the correct side and come out of hiding!"
"The world is at a stage again where it was half a century ago. We announced our allegiance then, just to be stomped down... We were waiting for another opportunity. Please relay this part, too, to Master Karkaroff."
"Most certainly..."
...
....
......
"Bleh... I hate its taste." I grumbled after I drank my portion of polyjuice, sitting on our bed on the second floor of the inn. It was already late at night, and we were sharing one room with Grindelwald, who was seated in an armchair, looking like he was sleeping... or meditating. I could still not tell.
"It does taste like swamp water, but... eh, whatever!" Quincy agreed, grimacing after taking a sip for herself.
"It is weird sleeping in a room with someone else..." I whispered into her hair, hugging her, taking a sniff, and watching as she blushed when feeling my hand wander around her waist.
"Don't...! It is weird doing it when we look this different..."
"Right, but..." I leaned in for a kiss, and yes, it did feel wrong... but...
"We are not alone..." She protested, yet her hands still held onto me, pulling me closer, and we almost kissed when-
"Keep it for later, youngsters." Grindelwald's voice interrupted us, making us jump apart, flustered and turning red from head to bottom. "For now, you are siblings; think of it like that. That should do the trick."
"..."
Thanks. Now, you have made it even worse. It was already weird, but now it became bizarre. Damn you...
"Are you meditating when you rest like this?" Quincy asked, trying desperately to change the topic.
"You can call it that." As he replied, his eyes remained shut, his body barely moving, and his voice was eerily serene. "My body is relaxed, and it helps me let go of all desires. It is the first step for my mind to open up and pursue the essence of magic. What I am focusing on is feeling the magic around us and trying to hear its whispers."
"Huh? Magic speaks?" We asked simultaneously, finally making him open his eyes and smile a little.
"Hearing it is a crude word. It doesn't explain what I mean. Magic is eternal and ethereal. It is that what makes wizards and witches stay behind as ghosts. When their mind, their will, is so strongly attached to this plane of existence, no matter the reason why, they imprint their whole consciousness onto magic itself. That is... what a ghost is. But, that is a flawed existence as a ghost then forever trapped within magic itself."
"Is this about immortality? Again?" I shrugged, making him look at me, slowly tilting his head to the left.
"Immortality is a mirage. Well, for some, it is reality, but it depends on what you define as immortality. Take your Dark Lord as an example. Is he immortal? Technically yes. For now. Or as long as his Horcruxes remain intact. But he is not unkillable. Is a ghost immortal? Again, from a certain point of view, yes, they are. But what kind of immortality is that?" He chuckled, shaking his head, "Is Flamel immortal? I would call all of these examples false immortality. A true immortal would be someone who is one with magic, so no matter if they have a physical body or not, they could exist with or without one and keep using magic. But that..."
"Interferes with the balance." I murmured, remembering what he was teaching us back in the castle.
"Exactly. So, immortality is something that will never be allowed. Even false immortality is tipping the scale out of balance, so magic interferes. What I am doing is simply trying to listen to magic. Trying to feel it and, through that, understand where it flows. I no longer want to control magic. Instead, I want to ride its waves and let it carry me forward."
"But what if you are swept away?" Quincy asked, and I watched as his smile widened, a happy light igniting within his eyes.
"That is what this is all about. I meditate and reach out with my mind so I can prevent it from happening. I let it sweep me under once when I followed the clues of the Hallows... No longer will I make the same mistake, and you shouldn't do it either."
I didn't understand what he was saying, but I may one day. I thought about asking Herpo, but I don't know if he had anything to say about it. Considering that he was living in the bloodlines of his descendants, rarely if ever speaking to them... his kind of existence was just as sad as the ghosts, now that I thought about it.
"It is more like sleeping." He answered, making me flinch as I hated that he didn't warn me in any way when reading my thoughts. "Sometimes I let myself slip, then wake up, and a century has passed. Or more. Sometimes, I stay awake and watch. Not every descendant's blood is strong enough for me to look through their eyes and hear their thoughts, but when it is, I like to observe them."
"Creep..." I thought to myself, which was welcomed by a loud laugh, more surprising than anything else.
"I wasn't called that for more than 2000 years, boy! Haaah... but yes, you are right. Still, don't forget, I was called the worst living being of my time."
"Yeah, It is time that I stop asking questions!" I thought to myself, shaking my head. "It is best to rest; who knows what they will want us to do tomorrow..."
After we had prepared everything and rehearsed our names we were ready to apparate straight into Valdemar. I was worried about the fact we didn't speak their language, but then again, it was solved by a nifty little artifact, created by Grindelwald.
"Don't lose it." He warned us while we fixed the blood-drop-like pins on our old-fashioned black wizarding robes. "It would reveal both of your true accents and make you unable to understand the language."
"It's going to be fine." I answered with a shrug, still feeling off a little. We both took a swing of polyjuice potion and had multiple others ready in our bags. Right now, both of us have blonde hair and blue eyes, similar to Grindelwald's appearance.
"It's fine, we will be careful." Quincy confidently nodded before Grindelwald clamped down on our shoulders, and we reappeared in an abandoned-looking basement.
The air was musky and sour, while most of it was filled with dust, ancient wine bottles, and a dozen or so spiderwebs. Unpetrubed, he walked up the stairs, and with a flick of his wand, the door swung open, leading us into a deserted house.
"If someone stops us," He turned around, saying it only once, "Let me talk first. Children are not allowed to argue when adults are present."
"Mm." Not that we thought of debating when we were here to slip into Durmstrang.
The town was similar in size to Hogsmeade, with the only difference being that the buildings here were made of red bricks, and their roofs were colored with black tiles, while some had ancient copper crests hanging above the doors. He warned us that this place takes bloodlines just as seriously as Voldemort's regime. The only difference was that the new generation was becoming more open-minded and welcoming, placing power above blood purity.
When we asked about it, he told me that was part of his idea just the same, back in the old days. Someone's origin means nothing, and what only matters is their proficiency in magic. Muggle-born or Pure-blood... it is the argument of the weak. After his expulsion and then later his defeat, that idea suffered a lot around here. The younger generation was just now finding the same beliefs, starting to consider that maybe the old ways were outdated. Wrong.
"Come, we will visit the school's representative in the town. They are usually a family who are close to the Headmaster."
We didn't need to go far because we found Archduke Rasmussen in a three-story, spacious villa. At first, their house elf didn't want to let us in, but after telling them who we were and why we were coming to visit, a human servant shortly let us in, leading us directly into a spacious, well-decorated room.
"Welcome to the oldest town of Wizards and Witches you can find not just in Europe but in the whole world!" The Archduke laughed, walking into the room, and I tried not to look too hard. He was comically small, shorter than Quincy, and I was doubting whether he was human or not. It was hard to tell because of his bushy, white hair sticking out from under the wizarding hat he wore and his long beard sweeping the floor as he walked up to us.
Quincy and I looked away at the same time after greeting him with a bow, acting in sync, both of us trying our hardest to hold back our laughs. On the other hand, Grindelwald was unperturbed, beginning to talk to him, bringing up the stories he had heard about the Archduke's father and how he supported Grindelwald in the olden days. Heh, lucky they didn't keep photos around...
After about half an hour of bootlicking and boring nonsense, he finally began speaking about why we were there. I watched him present multiple documents detailing the family lineage and even putting forward old relics that I guess he got from the family graves. I knew that such things were usually protected by magic related to one's bloodline, so no wonder the Archduke was getting less and less skeptical.
"I will relay this to Headmaster Karkaroff at once. We are short-staffed and in need of similar, prestigious offers!" He answered with a smile that was more slimy than the underside of some flobberworms. "But you must know that even if you are going to be accepted as a teacher, your children..." He took a glance at us, but we did not say anything, following the rules Grindelwald warned us about. No speaking until an adult permits it.
"They are better than what their age shows."
"Are they...?"
"A guarantee it, Archduke Rasmussen. Whatever test Durmstrang may throw at them, they will triumph in it. My descendants may not have attended any magical school, but they have received my training and the knowledge of my family's line. I assure you, it is more than enough."
"We will see about that..." He grunted, daring to show a bit of displeasure. Well, he was a high-ranking wizard, so I guess it is okay... and they wouldn't want someone who wasn't a bit boastful and unable to show enough of a backbone. "Well, go to the Slumbering Dragon Inn and tell Miss Ludmila that I will foot the bill for your stay." He clapped, signaling that it was the end of the discussion. "I am going to visit the school and speak with the Headmaster, and then we will know better! I am sure that he will be happy to hear that there are old families, finally willing to take the correct side and come out of hiding!"
"The world is at a stage again where it was half a century ago. We announced our allegiance then, just to be stomped down... We were waiting for another opportunity. Please relay this part, too, to Master Karkaroff."
"Most certainly..."
...
....
......
"Bleh... I hate its taste." I grumbled after I drank my portion of polyjuice, sitting on our bed on the second floor of the inn. It was already late at night, and we were sharing one room with Grindelwald, who was seated in an armchair, looking like he was sleeping... or meditating. I could still not tell.
"It does taste like swamp water, but... eh, whatever!" Quincy agreed, grimacing after taking a sip for herself.
"It is weird sleeping in a room with someone else..." I whispered into her hair, hugging her, taking a sniff, and watching as she blushed when feeling my hand wander around her waist.
"Don't...! It is weird doing it when we look this different..."
"Right, but..." I leaned in for a kiss, and yes, it did feel wrong... but...
"We are not alone..." She protested, yet her hands still held onto me, pulling me closer, and we almost kissed when-
"Keep it for later, youngsters." Grindelwald's voice interrupted us, making us jump apart, flustered and turning red from head to bottom. "For now, you are siblings; think of it like that. That should do the trick."
"..."
Thanks. Now, you have made it even worse. It was already weird, but now it became bizarre. Damn you...
"Are you meditating when you rest like this?" Quincy asked, trying desperately to change the topic.
"You can call it that." As he replied, his eyes remained shut, his body barely moving, and his voice was eerily serene. "My body is relaxed, and it helps me let go of all desires. It is the first step for my mind to open up and pursue the essence of magic. What I am focusing on is feeling the magic around us and trying to hear its whispers."
"Huh? Magic speaks?" We asked simultaneously, finally making him open his eyes and smile a little.
"Hearing it is a crude word. It doesn't explain what I mean. Magic is eternal and ethereal. It is that what makes wizards and witches stay behind as ghosts. When their mind, their will, is so strongly attached to this plane of existence, no matter the reason why, they imprint their whole consciousness onto magic itself. That is... what a ghost is. But, that is a flawed existence as a ghost then forever trapped within magic itself."
"Is this about immortality? Again?" I shrugged, making him look at me, slowly tilting his head to the left.
"Immortality is a mirage. Well, for some, it is reality, but it depends on what you define as immortality. Take your Dark Lord as an example. Is he immortal? Technically yes. For now. Or as long as his Horcruxes remain intact. But he is not unkillable. Is a ghost immortal? Again, from a certain point of view, yes, they are. But what kind of immortality is that?" He chuckled, shaking his head, "Is Flamel immortal? I would call all of these examples false immortality. A true immortal would be someone who is one with magic, so no matter if they have a physical body or not, they could exist with or without one and keep using magic. But that..."
"Interferes with the balance." I murmured, remembering what he was teaching us back in the castle.
"Exactly. So, immortality is something that will never be allowed. Even false immortality is tipping the scale out of balance, so magic interferes. What I am doing is simply trying to listen to magic. Trying to feel it and, through that, understand where it flows. I no longer want to control magic. Instead, I want to ride its waves and let it carry me forward."
"But what if you are swept away?" Quincy asked, and I watched as his smile widened, a happy light igniting within his eyes.
"That is what this is all about. I meditate and reach out with my mind so I can prevent it from happening. I let it sweep me under once when I followed the clues of the Hallows... No longer will I make the same mistake, and you shouldn't do it either."
I didn't understand what he was saying, but I may one day. I thought about asking Herpo, but I don't know if he had anything to say about it. Considering that he was living in the bloodlines of his descendants, rarely if ever speaking to them... his kind of existence was just as sad as the ghosts, now that I thought about it.
"It is more like sleeping." He answered, making me flinch as I hated that he didn't warn me in any way when reading my thoughts. "Sometimes I let myself slip, then wake up, and a century has passed. Or more. Sometimes, I stay awake and watch. Not every descendant's blood is strong enough for me to look through their eyes and hear their thoughts, but when it is, I like to observe them."
"Creep..." I thought to myself, which was welcomed by a loud laugh, more surprising than anything else.
"I wasn't called that for more than 2000 years, boy! Haaah... but yes, you are right. Still, don't forget, I was called the worst living being of my time."
"Yeah, It is time that I stop asking questions!" I thought to myself, shaking my head. "It is best to rest; who knows what they will want us to do tomorrow..."
