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"Cool, Harry!"
Cedric patted Harry on the arm and pointed toward a group of curious first-years tinkering with what looked like a snowboard. The excited kids were gathered around an illustrated booklet, murmuring to themselves. Suddenly, one of them exclaimed, "I got it!"—drawing everyone's attention to him.
He was a lively boy with golden curls and a slender frame. Sliding his fingers along one side of the board, he carefully placed it on the ground. Instead of landing, the board floated steadily about fifteen centimeters above the ground. His eyes widened as he realized everything was exactly as described in the booklet. With cautious excitement, he stepped onto the board.
"It's totally stable! No way I'm falling off!"
To prove his point, he bounced slightly on it, but the board didn't so much as wobble.
"Afternoon is your free time—you can't be doing this here now."
Before the boy could even attempt to move, a Durmstrang staff member, dressed slightly differently from the professors, approached them. The scolded students hurriedly apologized, but as soon as the staff member left, they started chattering excitedly again.
"This thing looks even cooler than a Firebolt! Cho, doesn't it remind you of that sword-flying thing you told me about?"
Cedric, thrilled by the new toy, grabbed Cho's arm as he spoke—only to catch Harry smirking at him.
"It only hovers half a meter at most. It's just a transportation gadget—why are you so excited?"
"If you really like it, write to Fred and George. You might just get a custom-made, over-the-top version for Christmas—way better than this."
"How do you know?" Cedric was momentarily stunned. If it only hovered that little, it didn't seem all that impressive. The toy broom he had as a kid could fly two or three meters high—wasn't that way better?
"It says so in the manual." Harry tapped his temple and raised his chin slightly. "I can read it just fine from twenty meters away. Might as well be holding it in my hand."
"Then go find the Golden Snitch next time we play, and I'll take your spot as Chaser!" Cedric scoffed, shooting him a sulky look. He squinted at the booklet Harry had pointed at, but all he could make out were tiny, blurry letters.
'This guy keeps getting more ridiculous…'
Of course, Harry couldn't hear Cedric's silent grumbling. Meanwhile, the line ahead of them had shrunk considerably. Durmstrang had plenty of staff, and the registration and distribution process was moving quickly.
Durmstrang uniforms were custom-made and didn't need to be replaced annually. Crafted from magical materials, they could adjust to the wearer's size and featured convenient enchantments like temperature regulation and waterproofing. Winters here were harsh, but thanks to these uniforms, students no longer needed to bundle up in bulky fur cloaks. Magic advanced just like technology did.
The ranking badges were straightforward: A-rank students had a silver-based double-headed eagle emblem, C-rank was white, and B-rank was black—easy to distinguish at a glance.
"Then S-rank must be gold, right?" Cedric speculated as he examined his silver badge after receiving his school essentials. Nudging Harry with his elbow, he grinned. "Captain, go get yourself a gold one and show us?"
"I don't even get special treatment at Hogwarts—why would I suddenly be some privileged elite at Durmstrang?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Professor Grindelwald isn't that petty. If I really wanted an S-rank, I could just earn it myself in a few months. No need to flaunt connections—I hate drawing attention."
"Oh, sure. Like you and Grindelwald aren't close," Cedric shot back, mirroring Harry's eye-roll.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."
Harry dismissed him with a lazy wave, thinking that Grindelwald probably wouldn't bother causing unnecessary trouble for him.
It was Fleur's turn before Harry, but when he finally received his school kit, he was genuinely taken aback. His badge was different from everyone else's.
"Why… is mine red?"
It wasn't the gleaming gold badge he had joked about, nor did it have some blindingly large 'S' on it. But the more he looked at the deep red color, the more familiar it seemed.
The others crowded around, their expressions turning curious. Fleur tugged at Harry's sleeve and pointed to the side. "Over there."
They all turned quickly to follow her gaze.
The professors leading their group—Karls Horten and Sassan Deflott—were wearing badges just like Harry's. The only difference was that Karls Horten's had a thin gold border, while Sassan's was identical to Harry's: pure, blood-red.
Noticing the stares directed at them, the two professors paused their conversation. Sassan, the female professor, smiled and walked over.
"Is something wrong… hmm?"
Harry was taller than most, and the school kit in his hands was easily visible. The red badge stood out starkly among the sea of silver.
"Are you one of the seventeen new professors…?"
"Huh?"
Harry pointed at his own nose. "I just turned thirteen. Since when does Durmstrang hire child laborers? Why didn't I know about this?"
"You're telling me you're thirteen?"
Sassan's expression froze. She was so shocked that she even raised her hand to measure against herself. At a little over 170 cm, she was considered tall for a woman, yet she barely reached Harry's chest.
"If you eat three meals a day—thirty servings per meal—and make sure to run and jump around, you can grow too."
Sassan: "…"
The female professor was speechless for a moment before turning to a nearby staff member who was processing student registrations. Knocking on the counter, she pointed at Harry. "Was his badge issued by mistake?"
"Mr. Harry Potter, correct? There's no mistake on my end," the staff member replied without even looking up. "Though I have no idea why it's a faculty badge."
"I'll ask around and get back to you—"
"No need."
A voice suddenly cut in.
In an instant, the once-bustling registration area fell silent. It was as if a cold wave had swept through the room, sending chills down everyone's spine. And that was saying something, considering it was still the sweltering heat of September. Though Durmstrang was nestled in the mountains, the academy itself sat in a valley with a relatively mild climate.
"P-Professor…"
Harry barely managed to correct himself before he let something slip. The newcomer was none other than today's most talked-about figure—Severus Snape.
"I just finished speaking with Headmaster Grindelwald," Snape announced, his voice making the already frozen atmosphere even colder. "I was supposed to find you right after the banquet, Harry."
"My assistant professor position," he continued, "doesn't quite make me a student, does it?"
On his chest was one of Durmstrang's rarest badges—the exact same as Grindelwald's. A golden-embroidered, red-background double-headed eagle emblem, signifying his status as a Master-ranked professor.
"Your potion-making skills are barely acceptable," Snape remarked. "I picked up some new ideas at a symposium over the summer. Drop by tomorrow for some test trials—I formulated them specifically for you."
**What is fatherly love, if not this?**
This metaphorical mountain of paternal care nearly crushed Harry into pieces. **New ideas? New potions? Test trials?**
*"Just kill me, godfather. Pretend you don't have a godson, alright?"*
The last two weeks at Hogwarts had already been hell for Harry—**one cup of Snape's 'special brew' per day.** He had spent those entire two weeks practically dead. Compared to that, a ten-minute execution would've been a vacation. And now it was starting again? **In ultra-hard mode?!**
Snape clearly read Harry's thoughts, but instead of mercy, he gave the faintest smirk and delivered an even more devastating blow:
"Don't be late."
"*Sigh—*"
"Hm?"
"Ah—"
With a miserable expression, Harry nodded ever so slightly, looking as if he was about to cry.
Before leaving, Snape handed him a letter. "From Headmaster Grindelwald. Read it yourself."
Then, with the dramatic flourish of a man who seemed to bring his own personal blizzard, Snape turned and strode away, leaving behind a back as imposing and unyielding as an unmelting glacier.
A few moments later, Sassan—recovering faster than the students—had an expression of realization dawn on her face.
"If that's the case, then there's no issue. However, Mr. Potter, at Durmstrang, even professors attend lectures. If Professor Snape holds a class, you can bet plenty of other faculty members will be there to learn. If my own field were potions, I'd attend as well."
She gave him a reassuring nod. "It may be a bit unusual, but you don't have to worry too much."
Sassan still found it hard to believe Harry was only thirteen. He looked at least fifteen or sixteen. Durmstrang frequently collaborated with Koldovstoretz, whose students were known for their towering heights—tall, fair-skinned girls and burly boys. It wasn't uncommon for fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boys to be nearly two meters tall, some even sporting rugged beards that made them look a decade older.
Regardless, whether thirteen or sixteen, to be personally selected by Snape as an assistant professor at this age meant Harry's potion-making talent had to be extraordinary.
What she *couldn't* have guessed, however, was that Harry hadn't earned this role through sheer skill alone. His rise was pure nepotism. Sure, with his talent and dedication, he could reach the threshold of Master-level potioneering by twenty—but why would he bother when he had *two* Potion Masters backing him? Why work hard when he could just loot his godfather's and mentor's private stash?
"You're all Hogwarts exchange students, correct?"
Now recognizing the group before her, Sassan couldn't help but ask, "Could you tell me… about Professor Snape?"
"Does he, um… like—"
Harry didn't wait for Sasan to finish her question before responding seriously, keeping a straight face as he carefully described Snape's ideal type—modeled entirely after his own mother. Sasan's eyes sparkled with excitement as she nodded along enthusiastically, murmuring in agreement.
For a single woman in her mid-twenties, how could she not have some thoughts about Snape? Sure, the man was as cold as liquid nitrogen and exuded an aura of unapproachable aloofness, but his brilliance was undeniable. Not to mention, he was young—only 33, which was practically the prime of life for a wizard. Arthur Weasley had already fathered Ginny by the time he was that age.
Difficulties inspire determination, and at this moment, Sasan was brimming with resolve. Meanwhile, Harry, having just sold out his godfather without remorse, let out a deep breath of satisfaction. Snape had way too much free time to meddle in his affairs—undoubtedly because he was single. It was about time to find the man a partner. He couldn't just sit back and watch his godfather grow old alone. That would be far too tragic.
Even Batman had Alfred. And what did Snape have? Nothing.
This unexpected little moment became a hot topic among the students. Many whispered among themselves, curious about Harry's sudden appointment as a professor. But no one found it strange—after all, he was personally chosen by a Potions Master. That had to mean he was exceptionally talented, right? Receiving the red badge was only natural. If it weren't for the grudge some still held over what had happened on the ship, plenty of them would have come up to greet him by now.
Along with their uniforms, each student was also given a magical map of Durmstrang. The map allowed them to locate their current position and, upon entering a destination, would immediately provide guidance. After a brief tutorial from the supervising professor on how to use the hoverboards, they were left to their own devices. These foolproof transport tools ensured no one would fall off, and they even linked to the map, allowing for a single-button trip to any location.
The students set off in a grand procession toward the dormitory castle. The straight-line distance was about three kilometers, but with the hoverboards, the journey took less than five minutes.
"I think we're all on the fourth floor. Wait, is Durmstrang's dorm setup mixed-gender? Cho's room is right across from mine?"
Cedric's excitement was evident in his voice—just thinking about it made him... well, better not think too much.
"Cho's sharing with Fleur. It's a double, pretty comfortable. Say, Ced, do you snore, talk in your sleep, or, you know, have any... unfortunate nighttime habits? Give me a heads-up now so I can prepare a few pairs of unwashed socks to keep handy."
"Captain, please don't expose your own bad habits so casually. You're scaring me." Cedric feigned a shiver, flashing a mischievous grin.
"No," Harry shook his head solemnly, putting on a mock-serious expression. "I have a habit of killing in my sleep. So if, one night, you hear the sound of a knife being sharpened, don't hesitate—run to the hallway immediately. Otherwise, the next time you see yourself, it might be in a steaming hot pot."
The ever-sunny Cedric froze mid-step. "No wonder you'd randomly disappear at night back at Hogwarts. You were sneaking out for midnight snacks, weren't you?"
"Disappearing at night?"
A soft, sweet voice rang beside Harry's ear. Fleur, smiling playfully, batted her lashes at him while casually running her fingers along his waist, sending a ticklish sensation up his spine.
"Where exactly were you sneaking off to?"
Harry instantly tensed up, forcing a sheepish grin. "I, uh... I went to see Hagrid. Yeah, that's right, Hagrid! Sometimes, I'd go hunting with him and have a barbecue. The house-elves only make British food, you know—fish and chips, meat pies, roasted chicken legs, steak... it gets old fast. So I had to change things up, right?"
Hoping to deflect, Harry hurriedly switched topics. "Speaking of which, Hagrid said he'd be dropping off Thor for me this afternoon. By my estimate, he should be arriving right about—"
"There's a dragon in the sky!"
Before Harry could finish, a nearby student shouted, pointing upwards. A massive shadow was approaching rapidly from the horizon, its wingspan stretching nearly thirty meters. Even from a distance, the gusts generated by its flight could be felt on the ground. The enormous fire dragon fully unfurled its body in midair.
"It's Norbert!"
There was only one Soviet Ironbelly at Hogwarts, raised by Hagrid himself. There was no mistaking it!
A red signal flare shot into the sky. Gripping his white wand handle, Harry waved his arms enthusiastically, calling out.
Despite Norbert's near-vertical dive, Hagrid remained firmly seated on the dragon's back. Behind him, a small silver head peeked out over his shoulder. Spotting Harry waving below, little Thor leaped off Hagrid's shoulder.
Despite his sleek frame, Thor wasn't bulky in the slightest. He gave a single powerful flap of his feathered wings, slicing through the wind with a crackle of thunder. In an instant, he overtook the plummeting Norbert and dove straight into Harry's arms.
"You little menace! Aaaah—!"
With the force of a near-sonic impact, the lightning wyvern sent Harry tumbling nearly fifty meters across the grass, rolling over seventeen or eighteen times. Though it wasn't enough to kill him, in his current weakened state, he had no chance of properly catching the excitable creature.
Thor had grown significantly. Nearly a year old, he was now in the rapid growth phase—his slender body stretched over four meters in length, with a wingspan exceeding five meters. Unlike purebred wyverns, Thor, a hybrid between a Thunderbird and a Storm Dragon, had two pairs of elegant feathered wings instead of the usual leathery membranes.
His grand debut immediately caught Fleur's attention. Gliding over on her hoverboard, she knelt beside Harry, reaching out to stroke Thor's head. The wyvern, seemingly aware that he had messed up, lowered his head in guilt. Fleur's eyes sparkled with delight.
"Oh my, my waist... it's broken..."
"Harry, this is Thor, right? He's adorable! And so gorgeous!"
"My waist is really broken..."
"Thor, I'm your big sister Fleur. From now on, you have to listen to me, okay?"
"It's actually broken..."
"Thor's such a good boy! Come here, let me hold you~"
"..."
"You ungrateful brat..."
Coughing up half a mouthful of blood, Harry pushed himself up from the grass and dusted off his clothes. He shot a glare at Thor—who was happily being pampered—before turning toward Hagrid, who had just landed.
"That was quite the entrance, Hagrid!"
"Haha! Thought so myself!" Hagrid boomed, beaming with pride.
"Oh, by the way, Harry—my paper got published and approved! All thanks to you. After I finish my training with Mr. Scamander, I'll officially receive my Master certification in Magical Creature Crossbreeding. We'll have to celebrate! I'll go hunt something big for the feast—make sure you come!"
With his thunderous voice carrying across the field, every student nearby heard it loud and clear. The towering giant of a man wasn't just some friendly caretaker—he was about to become a certified Magical Creatures Master?
The realization hit them hard. If there had been any lingering envy or doubt about Harry before, it was gone now. With two high-level wizards supporting him, and with connections to their research, there was simply nothing to contest.
"You handle the food, and I'll bring the drinks! I'll get the whole squad together for the celebration."
As the battle group members joined in to congratulate Hagrid, the field buzzed with cheerful excitement.
(End of Chapter)