The Marauders: Year Six Part 2 #Wattys2017

Havmork

Havmork

Far, far northeast - beyond mountains and lakes half frozen, on shores of harsh cliff faces - was a place on the map where no Muggle had ever stepped a toe. The rocks seemed too steep, the path dangerous with ice and snow... It was here, among the stone and brine-coloured water that a frigid air blew through the midday dusk of the sunless winter, and billowed the dark sails of a ship which sat, like a ghost in the sea, creaking in the effort of staying afloat.

The ship's insignia bore the image of a double-headed eagle.

Light flashed upon the ship's deck - flashes and cracks, small but brilliant against the dark of the polar night.

Students were dueling. Two thick young men with closely shorn hair and wool uniforms belted about the center fought in a sort of hand-to-hand combat, using long jousting sticks, striking diagonally at one another, blocking and twisting, striking one another in the side with a violence that seemed so graceful it could have been a dance. They slammed the sticks and sparks burst from the deck of the ship, spraying white-hot stars across their heavy leather boots. Swinging his stick, letting the smooth wood slide between his fingers as he turned, one of the boys struck the other across the shoulder so hard that the stick broke and the boy cursed and fell to the floor of the ship on one knee, clutching his shoulder.

"Very good, Dolohov," murmured the instructor, a tall and skinny man with a narrow black beard that hung from his chin to his mid-sternum, thick red wood beads tied into the wiry hair. He waved his wand and repaired the broken jousting sticks with ease.

Suddenly, far overhead, there was a humming and the cluster of students standing around the edges of the deck looked up into the dark clouds that obscured the sky, the sound echoing over the dark sea the boat set upon. The sound of an engine.

"Vot is zat?" asked one of the boys, looking concerned to the instructor.

But the instructor did not know.

"Into the cabins," he murmured and he waved for everyone to go into the galley, "We return to the safety of the castle immediately."

There was a rush of thick bodies as the boys and girls gathered about moved quickly over the deck, hurrying to get to the doors of the galley. The instructor's eyes followed the humming through the clouds, his eyes flashing over the darkness as it moved over their heads, toward the village of Havmork. He reached out a hand, grabbing hold of Evan Rosier's elbow before the could join the others in the galley.

"Has the Lord departed Havmork, Rosier?" the instructor asked lowly.

"I don't know, sir," Evan Rosier answered quietly.

The instructor released Evan Rosier's elbow. "Go below, son."

Regulus directed Lily lower through the clouds as they entered the air over Havmork, the little village near to Durmstrang Institute. This village was not as large as Hogsmeade was, and did not have any of the wonderful things as Hogsmeade did - there was no joke shop like Zonko's and no butterbeer or pretzel carts here. There was a Quidditch Supplies store, however, and a wand shop with wands fashioned by a man called Gregorovich. There was also one that sold candies like salt licorice trolls and marzipan toads called Bruka's. Regulus had found the selection lacking compared to Honeyduke's, though, when they had visited Havmork. Walburga had once floo'd them to a pub there, The Twisted Trunk, where they'd met Igor Karkaroff and been given a bit of a tour through Durmstrang Institute before they had formally turned down the offer of Regulus attending the school at the end of the summer.