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At around 11:30, the last group of students successfully boarded the Hodurhors. The three major European wizarding schools traditionally followed a seven-year magical education system. However, after a recent reform, Durmstrang's curriculum had evolved beyond what a standard seven-year program could accommodate.
For true elite students, seven years of magical education simply wasn't enough.
For the average student, specializing in one or two subjects already required complete focus and full dedication. But for high-level talents, the traditional path of mastering multiple disciplines with depth could unlock far greater potential. The interconnectivity between different branches of magic ran deeper than it appeared on the surface. For example, seemingly unrelated subjects like Charms and Potions could, in fact, complement each other significantly. Snape, a master of Potions, was also far more proficient in Charms—particularly in Dark Arts and Cursed Magic—than most other wizards.
This was largely thanks to his deep research into cursed potions. Potions, in essence, could be seen as spells preserved long-term through liquid form. In certain areas, potions could even surpass the power of spells. Some, like Polyjuice Potion, could replicate effects akin to Transfiguration.
For true elite wizards, mastering multiple disciplines with precision and depth was a highly viable path—though it certainly wasn't suitable for most.
Durmstrang's shortest program, a three-year crash course, aimed to produce the magical world's "tools"—graduates who became the bedrock of the wizarding community. Their potential was limited, but they were found across all industries. Even someone who only knew how to swing a turkey leg and had barely any cognitive development could, after three years of study, at the very least, become a competent "muscleman." They could find work as laborers in alchemy workshops and earn enough to support a modest living.
Combined with Durmstrang's more rigorous and efficiently streamlined compulsory Charms curriculum—far more intensive than Hogwarts—these graduates lived relatively comfortable lives. They learned all the most commonly used spells, especially the practical everyday magic not taught in Hogwarts textbooks, which greatly helped with tasks like cleaning, cooking, and general housekeeping.
This group accounted for 60% of Durmstrang's total student population. Of the remaining 40%, more than 35% studied for five to seven years. After completing at least a 1+1 course structure (Charms + an elective of interest), they earned their Durmstrang diploma. Though their employment options were narrower, their specialization gave them an edge in the rapidly developing "New Magical World." Their job prospects were significantly better than those of the underqualified graduates from traditional magical schools, and their salaries reflected their tailored skill sets.
The final group, less than 5% of the students, received an Offer Letter from the Pureblood Party upon graduation. If all went smoothly, they would be recruited into the Pureblood ranks and enjoy access to elite resources and strong institutional support.
Working for Grindelwald was a dream job. In Europe, few could resist an offer with a starting salary of 20,000 Galleons per year. Even Hogwarts professors earned less in direct wages. However, Hogwarts faculty benefited from substantial hidden perks. As long as they weren't incompetent, they had no financial worries. Snape, for instance, received close to a seven-figure Galleon research budget annually. Otherwise, how could he afford such outrageously expensive materials—and in bulk, no less? Still, his output more than justified the investment. A single practical, newly developed potion could wipe out several years' worth of expenses.
After the Hodurhors began its journey, Harry and Fleur, seated by the large porthole, watched as the magical battleship quickly descended beneath the lake's surface. As the towering masts submerged completely, magical energy suddenly surged.
A swirling vortex formed a protective barrier around the ship, and the churning waters seemed to tear apart the sunlight, plunging everything outside into complete darkness. No light penetrated through the now pitch-black window. The previously lively hum of conversation died out instantly. Even the bright lights inside the cabin seemed to dim. First-year students and transfer students, experiencing this for the first time, grew noticeably tense. The occasional flicker of the lights felt like someone playing a prank, but in truth, it was simply the ship's magical energy being channeled into a particular alchemical array.
Outside the window, the swirling vortex grew ever darker and more profound. Just when it seemed the ship had gone completely still, as if submerged in silence, a sudden surge of acceleration struck—the Hodurhors lurched forward with tremendous force. Those not seated staggered under the push, and a few who couldn't keep their balance landed hard on the soft-carpeted floor of the ship's deck. Yet before they could even voice a complaint, the vessel pierced through the black curtain of water. Accompanied by an abrupt sensation of upward motion, the ship broke the surface and emerged once more into daylight.
The Hodurhors had left behind the small lake where it had initially submerged and now sailed across a vast lake encircled by towering mountains.
At that moment, the ship's wooden walls and ceiling turned transparent, and brilliant sunlight poured over everyone's heads. The students inside the cabin could clearly see the waves parting at the prow and, just a few hundred meters ahead, the towering structure of Durmstrang's "castle."
Originally, Durmstrang had only a modest four-story fortress. After all, the legendary witch who founded the school hadn't possessed the same extravagant ambition as the founders of Hogwarts. Hogwarts, with its massive castle complex stretching from mountaintop to cliff base, was already colossal even without any magical expansion. In comparison, Durmstrang's old castle had always seemed somewhat "stingy."
But now, that four-story castle had completely vanished—replaced by a type of architecture never before seen in the magical world.
In the wizarding world, towering structures were rare. With space-expansion magic, even a modest one-room flat could be transformed into a sprawling estate covering acres. Yet here stood a cluster of ultra-modern "skyscrapers," the smallest standing at 200 to 300 meters tall, with the tallest nearing 500 meters.
On either side stood two buildings each, while the central tower—resembling a monumental obelisk—rose high above the rest. Several 50-meter-long floating skywalks connected these structures, which were arranged in a graceful arc. At the heart of the massive central plaza stood a colossal statue of Gellert Grindelwald himself, carved in lifelike detail. With both hands raised, he appeared to welcome every student entering Durmstrang—or perhaps he was embracing the infinite beauty of the world ahead. His head tilted slightly upward, eyes deep and radiant, gazing toward the sky—or beyond it, to the stars in the distance.
Even Harry, usually unfazed by grand displays, found himself momentarily slack-jawed at the stunning scene.
What did it mean to be truly wealthy and extravagant?
Grindelwald, who had razed and rebuilt Durmstrang from the ground up, was the very embodiment of opulence and audacity. Though Nicolas Flamel might have had more wealth, he certainly didn't know how to spend it like Grindelwald.
Mansions and manors? In the face of Durmstrang's new "castle," such things instantly lost their appeal.
While everyone remained frozen in stunned silence, the Hodurhors smoothly docked at the edge of the lake. The transparent ceiling and walls solidified once again, and the ship's doors swung open. The excited chatter and cheers of new students erupted, filling the air.
"Welcome to Durmstrang."
Perhaps someone spoke the words—or perhaps no one did.
(End of Chapter)