95 Gifts Galore

Durmstrang Library, Sept. 14th

Over the next few days, Harry begrudgingly admitted that Calypso was right in asking him to learn Occlumency. While he was able to initially disregard thoughts of a marriage contract, Calypso admitting she liked him persisted for a while. Every time he saw Calypso, Harry just couldn't help but feel a little awkward around her. If it wasn't for Occlumency, he probably wouldn't have been able to meet her eyes due to embarrassment. Fortunately, Occlumency allowed him to control those emotions, but that didn't mean it wasn't on his mind at times.

Sitting across from Viktor, Harry once again found himself contemplating whether he should ask his friend for advice.

"Umm excuse me, Mr. Krum?"

Glancing up from his Transfiguration book, Harry resisted the urge to hex the impudent first year. After a blowout victory against the Russians, Viktor had officially been ordained as the next great Seeker by the international Quidditch community. His friend's continued success had skyrocketed his popularity at Durmstrang, and many students now looked up to him as if he were a god.

At first, Viktor had found it slightly humorous how the people who had once treated him like dirt suddenly were bending over backwards just to sit near him at lunch, but the humor had quickly diminished.

Without looking up at the first year, Viktor took out a piece of parchment, scribbled his name, and tossed it at the boy.

"Thank you." The boy gushed. "My sister thinks you're the best player in the world. She's only seven you know, but she'll be coming to Durmstrang in a few years. Do you think you could maybe give her an autogra–"

"Hey," Harry snapped, causing the boy to cease his babbling, "can't you see we're trying to study. Leave."

The boy looked like he was about to protest before he noticed just who was talking to him. The first year took an instinctive step back, muttered a quick apology, and quickly ran back to his table.

"Your reputation precedes you, Harry." Viktor grinned.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes at his friend. Even before the welcoming feast, Harry had overheard people whispering his name wherever he walked. His surpassing Grindelwald's academic mark had been huge news across Central and Eastern Europe, and Harry had been the subject of rumors immediately upon his return to the school. As Harry had become accustomed to ignoring whatever his peers said about him, when the rumors of his cursing students that interrupted his study time emerged, Harry did nothing to correct them. If anything, he appreciated that particular rumor since it kept many of the more inquisitive students from pestering him with questions.

Doing his best to get back to work, Harry said, "You should learn how to say no to them, Viktor."

"He was just a first year," Viktor replied. "If it was an upperclassman, I would have told them to piss off."

"Doesn't matter. The little peons are all going to be asking for your autograph now. It'll only be a matter of time."

"Doubtful." Viktor grinned. "No one would dare interrupt me while I study with the great and powerful Harry Potter."

"Then why is your fan club on its way over here," Harry said distastefully.

Viktor turned around and openly scowled at the five fourth-year girls that were heading right for their table.

Noticing that the subject of their infatuation was paying attention to them, the girls giggled and quickened their pace.

"Hi Viktor," Virginia Newton said with a huge smile. "What are you doing?"

"We were studying," Harry dropped his transfiguration book into his bag. "Until you interrupted us."

Virginia hesitated when she looked at Harry, but a subtle nudge from her friend seemed to give her more courage than the first year Harry had scared off earlier. "Oh, well, that's good. We were going to study now. How about we all study together?"

"We were just leaving, weren't we Viktor?" Harry said pointedly.

Viktor nodded and grabbed his bag.

"Oh, well, maybe another time then?" Virginia asked lamely.

Ignoring the girl, Harry and Viktor left the library.

"I swear I'm going to curse one of them," Viktor muttered, doing his best to ignore a passing group of sixth years who were shamelessly staring at him.

"You could probably get away with it, too."

Viktor continued to aimlessly follow Harry down the corridor. "So could you."

Harry shook his head. "Doubtful...well, maybe, depends on which professor caught me."

Viktor rolled his eyes at his friend's understatement. The professors had gone out of their way to celebrate Harry's academic achievement. A good hour of the welcoming feast was practically dedicated to Harry with each professor giving a detailed explanation of his final project before they gave him their elaborate gifts.

The most practical –though no less expensive– of the gifts Harry had received came from Professor Rosemburg, who got Harry a rare, self updating, History of Transfiguration. The book was practically the definitive history of Transfiguration, and it explained the basic roots of the art in ancient Greece all the way to the most modern theories. Harry had been especially pleased to discover his theory had already been included in one of the latter pages of the book.

While Professor Rosemburg's gift was simple and elegant, other professors seemed to go out of their way to get extravagant gifts. Professor Kosarev had created a fully enchanted magic carpet, and Harry had a standing appointment with him to learn how to enchant it. Viktor, while initially doubtful that the carpet would match his broom, had taken the carpet on a test flight and immediately fell in love with the increased maneuverability the carpet granted him in the air.

Professor Kral had gotten Harry a brand new gold cauldron, something that Harry knew cost well in excess of 100 Galleons while the History Professor, Professor Cristof, bought Harry a very impressive chess set with the pieces being famous wizards and witches.

Not all Harry's gifts were great. Professor Cherny, infamous for not giving out decent gifts, had lived up to his reputation and simply handed Harry a homework planner and a gift certificate to a bookstore Harry had never heard of in Norway. Harry was later told that was probably the most effort Professor Cherny had ever put into giving a gift to a student younger than a fifth year.

While Harry appreciated all his professors' presents, the most impressive gift was given by Professor Rosier. The Dark Arts instructor had walked up to Harry with a small vial and asked him to lean forward. With only the slightest bit of trepidation, Harry complied.

Dipping his wand into the vial, Professor Rosier drew out a swirling white mist and placed the tip of his wand against Harry's temple. The mist, still attached to the wand tip, seemed to pool around Harry's head for just a moment before it was absorbed through his skin.

After all his work with Occlumency over the summer, Harry could immediately feel something wrong tugging at his mind. Curious, Harry sought out where the feeling had come from and found himself remembering something he had never witnessed before.

At first, Harry wasn't even sure what he was remembering. He recalled standing in a field, the freezing cold gusts of air blowing all around him. A short distance away, there were two wizards facing each other.

After they both took a calm bow, they raised their wands, and magic seemed to explode everywhere. The few observers who had foolishly stood too close were quickly torn apart as the violent spells and curses ripped the battlefield around the wizards to shreds.

Harry recognized perhaps one or two spells; however, the quick wand-work and silent incantations made it extremely difficult. In fact, Harry was so taken by the magic on display that it took until the red-haired wizard was blasted across the battlefield closer to Harry's viewpoint that he understood what memory he was recalling at the moment.

It was the redhead's eyes that gave him away. Harry had only seen such crystal blue eyes on one other wizard, Albus Dumbledore. Harry could do nothing else but stand dumbstruck in the middle of the Durmstrang Great hall as the 'duel of the century' between Dumbledore and Grindelwald played out in his mind.

Then, in a blink of the eye, the memory faded, and Professor Rosier was withdrawing the silver mist from Harry's temple.

Harry knew he must have looked like a zombie as he mindlessly walked back to his place at the table next to Viktor and Calypso, but his mind was a thousand miles away. The sheer power and viciousness of the magic he had witnessed had left him humbled and awed, but Harry had also never been more inspired.

"Harry, where are we going?" Viktor finally asked, looking around the seldom used first floor corridor.

"I am sick of being pestered by people, Viktor. I know you didn't ask for all this attention when you started playing Quidditch, but it's started to bug the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Viktor said apologetically.

Harry waved his friend off immediately. "It's not your fault, so don't apologize. The bottom line is people are bothering us when we should be studying. There's only one solution to our problem."

Viktor's eyes grew wide when he noticed where Harry was leading him. Lining the walls were the magical portraits of the previous Durmstrang Highmasters, a suit of armor standing on guard between them. "Harry," Viktor practically hissed, "why are we in the Highmaster's Hall?"

Harry smiled. "The Professors weren't the only ones to give me a gift. The Highmaster sent me an owl on the second day of class with his office's password. He said if I ever needed anything, I could talk to him. Well, Viktor, we need a private room to study."

"Because of my fans?" Viktor asked skeptically.

"Well, not entirely," Harry admitted. "I'm sick of Kira and Calypso having a go in my room during our Animagus training, and since both of them refuse to let the other into their room, and, and I mean no offense, I can't meditate in your room."

"Why?" Viktor asked in confusion.

Harry frowned. "You mean besides the various alerts you've set up to report Quidditch scores from the world cup? Or the periodic owls that swoop in from your teammates, coaches, and fans? Or how about the–"

"Fine." Viktor interrupted. "We need a private room."

"Glad you see it my way." Reaching a pair of large doors with a golden etching of the Durmstrang crest above it, Harry said, "Excellence above all."

The two doors swung open and the two boys looked at each other for a moment.

"After you, Viktor."