Dieter eventually discovered that the time passed less agonisingly if he did his best to forget that he was a wizard at all. By putting his spellbooks out of sight in his wardrobe, he found it easier to concentrate on the matters at hand “ primarily, excelling as best he could in his scholarly studies and in the Deutsches Jungvolk. The slump in his marks in December levelled out to his previous standard, and he performed admirably in his youth group activities, as usual.
With his own anxious anticipation for his magical education safely subdued (somewhat) for the duration of the school year, Dieter realised how much he would be missing when he departed for Durmstrang “ something he hadn’t thought about at all in those exciting few weeks after his eleventh birthday. Foremost in his mind was his own family. They said they would write often, but Dieter was slightly worried “ he had never been away from his family for any time longer than a week or so. Would he be able to cope with almost ten months away at Durmstrang?
Of course I will, he resolved. I’m sure I can handle it… right?
Dieter wouldn’t shed any tears for leaving Muggle school, but the Deutsches Jungvolk was a different matter. He enjoyed going on camping trips, and drinking hot cocoa, shooting air rifles, and beating the girls of the Jungmädel in every competition between the two groups. At Durmstrang there would be none of that. His DJ friends wouldn’t be there either, and Dieter suspected that they wouldn’t be as diligent in their correspondence as his siblings.
But regardless of what would be absent from his life when he left for his magical education in the coming September, Durmstrang would certainly offer something completely new and alien. The prospect of discovering a whole realm of possibilities “ to increase his own potential through magic “ was intoxicating. When his Muggle school finally ended for the summer, these thoughts came to a fore after their involuntary hibernation.
In his ample free time through July and August of 1939, Dieter once again found himself absorbed in his spellbooks. Likewise, his younger siblings wasted no opportunities to read the books too, and fervently wish they could be going to Durmstrang as well.
Eventually, the X’s on Dieter’s calendar slowly crept up on the first of September. He thought the day would never arrive, but unbelievably, it had. His books were packed, his clothes were neatly folded (all Mutti’s work, of course), and he was as mentally prepared as he could be.
To support the façade that he would be attending a Napola institution, Dieter was dressed in his Deutsches Jungvolk uniform, complete with knife, armband, and the few medals he had earned pinned to his shirt. He was waiting in the sitting room with his family, making some last-minute conversation before he had to leave.
After a few minutes (that seemed like an hour or more), a horn honked from outside. Father went to open the door, and his boss was waiting outside with an auto. Dieter and his family went outside and loaded his trunk into the auto’s boot.
“Well, this is it,” he said to his siblings, unsure of anything better to say.
“We’ll miss you!” Albert “ newly of kindergarten age “ squeaked. “If you see Flower, tell him we say hello,” Marie added.
Albert, Lena, and Marie crowded around their older brother and enveloped him in a big hug “ Paul hung back and was content to shake Dieter’s hand, not wanting to embarrass himself with such a public display of affection. Once his younger siblings cleared away (Lena hobbling along with a crutch and her left foot in a cast, having jumped out of a tree a week before and miraculously not receiving any greater injuries), Hans patted Dieter roughly on the head and messed up his combed hair.
“Have fun, Dieter, and don’t forget to stop every once in a while to smell the flowers,” he said, winking.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dieter replied with heavy sarcasm, and his brother grinned as he stepped away.
Mutti was last “ she knelt and gave Dieter a tight hug and kissed him on both cheeks. He could feel his cheeks turn red and heard his younger siblings giggling, but he didn’t mind so much. “Now, take very good care of yourself at Durmstrang,” Mutti said. “Learn lots of things, and don’t forget to write us often “ remember, we can’t write you if you don’t send us an owl so we can reply.”
Dieter nodded. Mutti hugged him extra hard again and let go. He noticed she was wearing the Mutterkreuz she had been awarded in May “ the Cross of Honour of the German Mother (Second Class) was a very special award. For giving birth to and expertly raising six Aryan children, she certainly deserved it. Since she was wearing the medal, and Dieter was in uniform…
He grinned as he saluted his mother, as required by Deutches Jungvolk and Hitler Jugend protocol. Amused and giggling, Dieter’s three youngest siblings also held their arms out straight. It was odd, saluting his own mother, but it made Dieter feel proud of her “ and it was strangely satisfying and affectionate in a way.
Mutti was blushing furiously. “That’s quite enough,” she said modestly, probably thinking that it would be better to leave the medal in its presentation box. “Now, enjoy your stay at school. Be nice to your teachers, and make friends, Dieter. We’ll miss you.”
“I will too,” Dieter replied.
Vati was standing by the passenger side of the auto, and the Gemeinschaftsleiter was sitting in the driver’s seat, twiddling his fingers on the steering wheel. “Whenever you’re ready,” Father said.
Dieter traded more goodbyes with his siblings and mother, and took a seat in the back of the auto. Father’s boss, Herr Steiger, put the automobile into gear, and they were off, rumbling over the uneven surface of the cobbled street. Dieter waved at the rest of his family through the rear window until they were out of sight.
“I can’t thank you enough for giving us a ride,” Father was saying to Herr Steiger. “It’s awfully bad luck that none of the scheduled trains could get us to East Prussia from here.”
“Don’t mention it,” the Gemeinschaftsleiter replied. “I don’t mind driving you to your connection “ it’s only forty kilometres…”
They then discussed Party business for the rest of the journey, namely how to increase attendance at Reich Labour Service meetings.
“Provide pie?” Vati suggested. “Everyone likes pie…”
Dieter wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation “ he watched the scenery fly by the window. He pondered what his life would be like in just a few short hours, when everything from the auto he was riding in to the clothes he wore was foreign. But as much as the thought made him insecure, it was exhilarated him. What would Durmstrang be like? What skills would he learn there so he can advance himself, his race, and his country?
They soon arrived in the largest town closest to Gemüsestadt, a town that had the fortune of having more rail lines “ convenient, since it not only fit Dieter and his father’s cover story of taking a train to the NPEA Stuhm in East Prussia, but was also the rendezvous point for students who would be attending Durmstrang.
“Well, I guess I don’t know my way around this town,” Herr Steiger admitted. They had arrived at a dead end, their path blocked by some vertical iron posts in the street, allowing only pedestrian access.
Father opened his door. “That’s fine. Dieter and I could just walk to the train station. If you park here, I’ll be back soon, perhaps in fifteen minutes to half an hour.”
Vati’s boss agreed to his plan and turned off the engine. They thanked him for the lift, got out of the car, and extracted Dieter’s bulky school trunk. Father took one end and Dieter the other, and they ventured down the street and just so happened to stumble upon the town’s train station “ an open air platform with a booth at one end. They walked up to the counter to find a stocky brown haired man inside, listening intently to the wireless set.
“Excuse me,” Father asked. “Can you tell us where we can find the lake?”
“Go west down this street about four hundred metres, and there’ll be a dirt path that branches off heading north which leads to the waterfront,” the man in the booth supplied. “Oh, have you heard the news?”
Dieter and his father were about to leave, but Herr Heydrich asked, “What news?”
The man let the radio answer for him “ he leaned over and turned the dial to increase the volume. The Führer’s loud, authoritative voice met their ears:
“…But I am wrongly judged if my love of peace and my patience are mistaken for weakness or even cowardice. I, therefore, decided last night and informed the British Government that in these circumstances I can no longer find any willingness on the part of the Polish Government to conduct serious negotiations with us.
These proposals for mediation have failed because in the meanwhile there, first of all, came as an answer the sudden Polish general mobilisation, followed by more Polish atrocities. These were again repeated last night. Recently in one night there were as many as twenty-one frontier incidents; last night there were fourteen, of which three were quite serious. I have, therefore, resolved to speak to Poland in the same language that Poland for months past has used towards us. This attitude on the part of the Reich will not change...”
“WHAT?” Father said, shocked. He dropped his end of the trunk, which hit the ground with a dull thud. Dieter set down his end too, but more gently.
“Those damn Poles launched a raid across our border last night,” the man in the booth explained. “There’s going to be a war now.”
“…Whoever, however, thinks he can oppose this national command, whether directly or indirectly, shall fall. We have nothing to do with traitors. We are all faithful to our old principle. It is quite unimportant whether we ourselves live, but it is essential that our people shall live, that Germany shall live. The sacrifice that is demanded of us is not greater than the sacrifice that many generations have made. If we form a community closely bound together by vows, ready for anything, resolved never to surrender, then our will will master every hardship and difficulty. And I would like to close with the declaration that I once made when I began the struggle for power in the Reich. I then said: ‘If our will is so strong that no hardship and suffering can subdue it, then our will and our German might shall prevail’.”
With the speech over, the man turned the radio off. Nobody said anything for a moment, and everything was unusually silent.
A real war, Dieter thought. He had often thought about war “ the tanks and planes he had read about going into action, but never had he expected such a conflict to happen. It was a fantasy he entertained himself with, but now the Reich was at war “ it was reality.
And the prospect excited him. Danzig was rightfully German! If the Poles were so foolish as to attack the Reich to jealously guard that stolen city, then those Untermenschen would get the punishment they deserved!
“War,” whispered Father gravely. He seemed stunned and lost for words.
“Where did you serve?” the man in the booth asked perceptively.
“Rumanian Front, Ninth Army, under Falkenhayn,” Father answered.
The man in the booth just gave a one-word reply. “Flanders.”
Dieter found it odd how the adults were so morose about the prospect of war with Poland. Wasn’t the Reich going to defend itself and retake what was rightfully theirs from the groping hands of the Slavs?
“I just hope to God we’re ready…” Father mused. Then, his resolve stiffened. His shoes snapped together and stood at attention “ the man in the train station booth did likewise. Right arms went out, perfectly straight.
“Sieg Heil!” they chorused, and Dieter joined them. “Heil Hitler!”
After some parting farewells, they left the booth and walked down the dirt path that led to the lake. Dieter’s mind was racing about the war “ fighter planes chattering away with machine guns… Panzerkampfwagens bellowing with their cannons…
Father was also thinking about the war, but he had a much different attitude. As they walked, he explained, “Dieter, you must know that war is nothing to be taken lightly “ I have experienced it first hand, and… those are some very pretty trees…”
Dieter looked at Vati, extremely puzzled. His father had abruptly stopped walking at a bend in the path, and was staring transfixed at the tall conifers flanking it. Dieter wondered why his father, who had for the last five minutes been walking through the same forest, only now decided to focus the entirety of his attention to the area’s flora.
“What?” he asked his father.
“What?” Vati said back to him.
This isn’t funny, Dieter thought. “You were talking about the war.”
“Was I? I don’t remember that,” he said with disturbing cheerfulness. “Well, it was a nice walk, but let’s go back home.”
Dieter did not know what had happened to his father. “No, we have to go to the lake so I can go to Durmstrang.”
Father then looked at Dieter with wide eyes and gasped. He dropped his end of Dieter’s trunk and hit himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Mein Gott “ I forgot! I have to run “ we’re supposed to organise a rally in five minutes, otherwise the giant mutant squirrels will give me rabies!”
“WHAT? No “ we’re going to Durmstrang!” Dieter yelled, but his father took several steps back, still ranting on about deadlines he’d missed, meetings he had to attend to, and the threat of death by furry rodents. Has he gone insane, or does he just have a very strange sense of humour that I’m unaware of?
“Need help?” a voice asked. Dieter turned around and faced the speaker “ a sandy blond haired boy with Aryan features, but with a nose that was slightly tilted to the left. He was a little shorter than Dieter, and was wearing some kind of robe that seemed to be the common dress of wizards. Behind him were two similarly clad adults who were presumably the boy’s parents, and a disgruntled-looking owl in a cage on top of a wooden trunk, which was floating a few centimetres off the ground.
“Oh, yes,” Dieter replied thankfully. “What’s going on?”
The boy gave Herr Heydrich an amused look before answering, “It’s the Muggle-Repelling Spell. We have one around our house, so I know the symptoms. Now, all you need to do is just pull him through, and everything will stop.”
Dieter nodded. As instructed, he grabbed hold of his father’s arm and pulled hard. Vati staggered after his son, protesting loudly, but after travelling just a few metres past the bend in the path, the insanity ended.
Father took some very deep breaths. “What just happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Dieter answered. “Now… we’re going to go to Durmstrang Institute, correct?”
“Of course,” Vati affirmed, as if his brief episode of lunacy hadn’t happened at all. “We don’t have any other plans.”
Dieter looked at his father suspiciously. He asked him about the mysterious rally he was supposed to be arranging in five minutes, and Vati replied that he didn’t know what his son was talking about, for he hadn’t remembered a thing.
“Right…” Dieter said. He then turned to the boy in the robe and thanked him for his advice.
“No problem,” the boy answered. Excitedly, he asked, “So are you a first-year at Durmstrang too?”
Dieter nodded, and the boy smiled broadly. “Great, me too! I’ll be seeing you in class! By the way, my name’s Konrad. Konrad Ritter. And yours?” The boy offered his hand to shake.
“Dieter Heydrich,” he said, shaking Konrad’s hand. He gave the mysterious bend in the path a glance. “So… that thing was a Muggle-Repelling Charm, you say?” he asked doubtfully. The thought of people being repelled just like annoying insects was an odd one.
“Yep,” Konrad answered, nodding. “It’s a useful spell to keep the secret of wizardkind, well, secret.”
The boy’s father added, “But don’t worry, they’re completely harmless.” Noticing Father’s neat suit and tie, the bespectacled, moustachioed Herr Ritter rather unnecessarily asked, “And I take it you are a Muggle?”
Herr Heydrich didn’t immediately reply, since “Muggle” was not a term he readily identified himself by. Something upon the lines of German, Aryan, father of six, and National Socialist came to mind; not the decidedly foreign word for the lack of magic. His answer was slightly delayed.
“Well, this is most interesting “ always interesting to meet a real live Muggle,” the wizard said. “I am Fritz Ritter. This is my wife Anna, and my son, Konrad.”
He vigorously shook hands with the two Heydrichs, but Frau Ritter “ a short woman with a round face and blonde hair tied up in a tight bun “ was much more reserved. “How do you do?” she merely asked, to which Dieter and his father replied that they were indeed well.
“Well, we must be off to the rendezvous,” Herr Ritter declared. “Do you need help carrying your trunk? I can make it levitate if you want.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” Dieter agreed. Though the load was split between two people, Dieter’s trunk was still heavy and anything to ease this was appreciated. Herr Ritter waved his wand and muttered a few words, and the trunk jumped into the air and settled at a height above Dieter’s ankles.
“There you go. All you have to do is push it along.” Herr Ritter’s smile was then replaced by a slight frown. “It must be very hard living as Muggles,” he said thoughtfully. “Living without magic must make your lives very difficult.”
Dieter didn’t think his life was hard at all, and he told Herr Ritter his opinion the matter. Also, now that Dieter thought about it, Herr Ritter looked quite skinny and seemingly hadn’t done any physical exertion in his life.
“Hmmmm,” the wizard mumbled, not really paying attention. “Shall we go?”
They walked down the path, and eventually a gap appeared in the trees, which gradually widened to reveal a lake and a clearing. There was a small crowd of people assembled by the pebble-strewn lakeshore, near a small pier. The lake was perfectly smooth and reflected the forest on the other side, and Dieter thought this would be the ideal place for his Deutsches Jungvolk unit to go sailing or rowing.
There were about a dozen or more students waiting with their parents at the lakefront, and some of them were already in their crimson Durmstrang robes. The older students were busy in conversation, but some of the younger ones looked distinctly alone.
A man in a black robe and cap called out, “Ah, you new arrivals there! I need some identification, please!” He hurried over, waving a clipboard in one hand and clutching a vaguely familiar brass contraption that resembled a measuring scale in the other.
“I’ll need to see your identification papers and your wands, please,” the man instructed. He attended to the Ritters first, since they already had the necessary documents ready.
Dieter rummaged through his pockets. “Where are my papers?” he asked his father, trying to sound level and unconcerned.
“Don’t worry. They’re in your trunk,” he assured. He opened the lid of the floating trunk and mutterd, “Now, where did your mother put it…?”
The inside of the trunk was very neatly packed, with all the clothes in one section and carefully folded. They were no longer tidy after two seconds of contact with Father’s rummaging hands.
A short minute passed and the official had cleared his previous charges. Dieter now had the brown envelope containing his documents from his trunk.
“Last name, first name, and year at Durmstrang,” the man with the clipboard directed.
“Heydrich, Dieter, and this is my first year.”
The official (whose robe had a triangular badge where the breast pocket would be) flipped through a few pages attached to his clipboard. “Right, so you’re on the list… may I see your identification and your wand?”
Dieter’s paperwork matched what was said on the list, and his wand was presented next. The official awkwardly handled both the clipboard and brass scales, but he managed to weigh the wand without dropping anything. A tiny slip of paper slid out of the instrument’s base, and the wizard read, “Eb-Dh(Nr)-13r. Is that correct?”
“Err…” Dieter hesitated. “Sure?”
The official tore off the piece of paper and pocketed it. “And lastly, I’ll be needing your identification, sir,” he said to Herr Heydrich.
Vati was surprised, but he nevertheless presented his documents bearing the eagle, wreath, and swastika of the Reich rather than the bisected triangle and circle of the magical authorities. “What does ‘NSDAP’ stand for?” the wizard queried, inspecting Father’s credentials as Party member and position in civil governance.
Father looked like he had just been asked, “Is the sky blue?” or, “Is the Pope Catholic?”
After educating the wizard with an answer, Herr Heydrich inquired, “Who are they? Security?” He pointed at some figures hiding amongst the trees at the edge of the clearing, and Dieter would have never noticed them by himself.
“Oh “ them?” the official babbled, surprised that Father could spot them. “Yes, they are guards. We don’t want to take any chances, with the goblin insurrection“”
“A what insurrection?” Vati blurted. Dieter remembered that his father hadn’t gone with him to Gellert Grindelwald Platz, and hadn’t seen the creatures that resembled little Jews.
“A goblin insurrection “ it happened last month. Where have you been, living in a cave?” The official looked at Father’s distinct lack of wizard-style robes and already had his answer. “Anyway, we just need to make sure that nobody attacks the students and there are no impostors.”
The thought of goblins masquerading as humans sounded ridiculous to Dieter, but neither he nor his father commented about it. However, the thought of goblins revolting while Germany was at war with Poland was not a pleasant one…
Then an intriguing thought occurred to him. Were the two events linked? In the words of the Führer, “Polish atrocities” had forced the Reich to respond with war. Was this goblin revolt one of them?
“…Well, you seem to be the last person scheduled to depart from this station,” the wizard told Dieter, bringing him back to reality. “Enjoy your journey and your stay at Durmstrang.” After straightening his cap, he promptly turned on his heels and with a small popping sound, vanished into thin air.
Though he had mentally prepared himself to face the oddities of magic, the sight nevertheless stunned Dieter. His investigating hand came across nothing but air, confirming that his eyes had been telling the truth.
I want to learn how to do that, he thought.
Having registered, there was nothing left to do but wait. The Ritters were busy conversing with some wizarding colleagues, and not wanting to disturb, Dieter curiously looked around at the people assembled at the lakefront. He soon noticed however that he was also the subject of intrigue, like he was some strange animal at a zoo exhibit. His khaki shirt, black shorts, tie, and armband made him stand out amongst the crowd of robed wizards and witches, and he suddenly felt very exposed. Undoubtedly, his father felt the same way.
“Five minutes!” somebody said loudly, checking a watch. It was five minutes to nine o’clock.
The babble of conversation slowly died down from that point, as the young boys, girls, and their parents looked towards the middle of the lake. Dieter nor his father had no idea what they were supposed to expect. Were they waiting for a boat? The many lake-ward gazes seemed to indicate that, but Dieter couldn’t see why that would be the case. Nothing resembling a castle called Durmstrang was on the other side of the water, and no boats were in sight. Then again, the wizard official had simply vanished into thin air, so were the students going to go to Durmstrang using a similar method? Dieter found himself trying to figure out how he would go to his new school, and wondering what it would feel like to pop in and out of spaces.
He was absorbed in these thoughts for longer than he realised, for soon the air was filled with an excited chatter and the eerie noise “ an odd sucking and rumbling sound, emanating from the bottom of the waters. People were pointing at the centre of the now-writhing lake; it was throwing up bubbles and agitated splashes, and sending small rippling waves that lapped the pebble-strewn shore. Like a giant bathtub with the plug pulled, a swirling whirlpool formed in the middle of the lake, and from it slowly emerged what was unmistakably a mast.
Dieter watched in awe as the great ship rose from the depths, and he soon found himself clapping and cheering. The figures in crimson on the deck manned the tangle of complicated ropes and pulleys of the rigging, but weren’t too busy to wave back at the crowd on the lakeshore. As the ship approached the shore at an angle, Dieter took in its features.
The ship (a galleon?) had a tall, sweeping sterncastle and four masts with sails bearing the pervasive triangular symbol “ the front two masts had square sails, and the rear two triangular lateen ones. The short, squat forecastle was pierced by a glowing round window on either side, and jutting in front of it was a long, pointed prow decorated with rows of harsh triangles, giving the entire front of the ship the visage of some toothy, ill-tempered creature.
The ship’s wake was filled with bubbles, which seemed to push the ship forwards with unnatural speed and effortlessness. Though the water by the shore looked much too shallow for the ship to come any nearer, it did; it glided on the film of bubbles and approached the pier. Presenting its flank to the lakefront, Dieter could read the name written on the bow in worn, but elegant Gothic script: Die Seeschlange.
The Sea Serpent came to a stop by the small pier, still bubbling profusely where the ship’s sides met the water “ was the magic of the ship having that much of a reaction with the lake? Overall, it gave the appearance of the fizz of some carbonated beverage.
Dieter couldn’t help himself. He extended his arm and shouted, “Ahoj brause!” Nobody but his father got the joke.
Magically, the ropes thrown overboard by the sailors tied themselves to the pier, securing the ship for boarding. A two metre wide, net-like rope ladder followed and settled on the Sea Serpent’s side.
One of the sailors, who looked like an older student, stood by the top of the rope ladder and pointed a wand to his throat. Somehow amplifying his voice, he announced in an accent that sounded Norwegian, “Welcome, students. I am Dag Tryggvason, Head Präfekt of Durmstrang and Captain of Die Seeschlange. Please form an orderly single-file line and wait your turn to board the ship. Do not worry about carrying your trunks “ we will bring them aboard for you.”
The Captain nodded to two companions, who scrambled over the side of the ship and scurried down the netting to the pier with surprising speed. “Form a queue, please,” they reiterated their superior’s orders. “Hand us your luggage when called upon for boarding.”
Students hastened their goodbyes with their parents and jockeyed for a place in the forming line. Dieter found himself somewhere in the middle.
“Are you ready?” Vati asked, and Dieter nodded. “Then I wish you the best of luck. Learn all that you can, and make us proud.”
“Thanks. I will,” Dieter affirmed.
Before he knew it, it was his turn to board, as the loading had proceeded very efficiently. “What’s your full name and year at Durmstrang?” one of the student sailors “ a girl “ requested. Incredulously, her accent almost sounded Polish. Adding to Dieter’s confusion, her hair looked like she had just emerged from a shower, but her school uniform (complete with collar and shoulder tabs of rank) was perfectly dry.
Dieter supplied the necessary information, and the older girl quickly wrote it down on a small piece of parchment, which she magically fixed to Dieter’s trunk. “Very well. Be careful when climbing onboard,” she warned. With a wave of her wand and a muttered incantation, Dieter’s trunk floated towards the ship, and was received by some of the crewmen on deck.
“Goodbye, Dieter. See you in a few months at Christmas,” his father called out as his son walked the length of the pier. Dieter turned and waved. “You too.”
Clinging onto ratlines near the top was a girl who was evidently afraid of heights, for she was taking her time in climbing the rope ladder. Dieter shook his head, amused “ everything to do with ropes and lashings was second nature to him from his experience in the Deutsches Jungvolk, and climbing the side of the ship was nothing more than a very easy obstacle course. He confidently seized the flexible rungs and clambered up the net. The thick robes sagged and swung about as his weight shifted with each step, but it was nothing to keep him off balance. Passing the slow girl, he heaved himself over the gunwale and promptly slipped on the wet deck.
“Here there be wet floors,” a sailor remarked, grinning. “Don’t forget that we were just underwater a few minutes ago,” He certainly looked very wet. His black hair was plastered to his skull, his uniform was drenched (water was still dripping out the trousers under his robes), and even a length of some aquatic plant was tangled around his neck.
Dieter got up, annoyed at himself for not being more careful. He waved to his father once again from the railing, and found his trunk waiting by the base of the mainmast. Thereafter he examined the Sea Serpent’s complicated rigging, and wondered how anybody could ever figure out the tangled mess of ropes and pulleys.
“Wow. What a ship!” a voice said loudly. It was Konrad who had just climbed onboard. He too was marvelling at the Seeschlange’s features, but with highly visible enthusiasm.
He soon spotted Dieter and hurried over to him. “Ah, someone I recognise. Sorry, but what’s your name again?”
“Dieter.”
“Right. Dieter… Dieter… And your last name?”
Using his powers of deduction, Dieter figured that Konrad had a poor memory.
“…Well, Dieter Heydrich, it’s good to meet you, again. Oh, and I suppose you should meet my owl too…” He hurried over to his trunk and seized the cage on top of it, and not very gently. The owl inside had tufts of brown and black feathers on its head, resembling ears. It stared unblinking at Dieter with large amber eyes.
“Now, instead of using carrier pigeons, in the wizarding world, we use owls to deliver let“”
Dieter interrupted, “Yes, I know. It was an owl that delivered my Durmstrang acceptance letter.”
Konrad blinked. “Oh, right. I forgot.”
“And just so you know, we definitely don’t use pigeons to deliver the post,” corrected Dieter.
“Really?” Konrad responded. “So what do you do?”
Dieter explained that a man collected and delivered the post, and Konrad could scarcely believe that. “Wow. Sound’s awfully slow. Well, anyway, this is my owl, Timm. I got him over the summer.”
Feeling a little foolish, Dieter extended his fingers to the bars of the cage and wiggled them. “Hello,” he greeted.
Timm the Owl did his best to bite Dieter’s fingers off. He jabbed with his beak but failing to inflict any damage, Timm puffed up his feathers, spread his wings as far as he could in the confines of the cage, and made a strange hissing sound.
“Charming, isn’t he?” Konrad remarked.
The Head Präfekt’s magically amplified Norwegian voice announced the Seeschlange’s departure. Dieter and the other students on deck headed to the gunwale and waved parting goodbyes to their parents.
Sails full of wind, the ship veered away from the pier and cruised towards the middle of the lake at unusual speed. “Everyone belowdecks, quickly!” the girl präfekt with the eastern accent ordered. “Your things are already downstairs.”
Indeed there were, and all of the luggage was nowhere to be seen on deck “ Dieter didn’t notice them leave. He wanted to stay above and enjoy the view, but then he remembered that the ship would be going underwater again and since he didn’t fancy holding his breath, Dieter hurried down the steps.
The deck immediately below the main was already filled with a number of students and their baggage. Evidently, the ship was making several stops, and the lake where Dieter had come aboard was just one of several destinations.
An immediately noticeable feature of the lower deck was the low ceiling supported by thick crossbeams, which Dieter discovered by very nearly hitting his head on them. There were also no rooms or corridors, as the lower deck was simply a large, dimly lit space of creaking timbers that extended the whole length of the ship. It tapered to a point in the front, but the narrow stern end was flat and had several doors leading presumably to the captain’s cabin.
In the centre was a row of four thick wooden columns bound in iron hoops and ropes “ those were the masts, piercing each layer of the ship down to the bottom of the hold. Along the sides were a series of closed cannon ports, and in front of each port was a bench in lieu of artillery pieces.
The hatch to the top was closed, and Dieter could feel the ship sinking. “Whoah…” Konrad uttered in amazement.
“Welcome aboard Die Seeschlange,” a short präfekt with a long nose and glasses said in what sounded like a well-rehearsed and stale speech. “This ship was built in Rostock and commissioned by Durmstrang Institute in the year 1577. She is actually the second ship to be operated by the school of Durmstrang, as the first Seeschlange commissioned in 1301 was destroyed in a fire in 1453. A second ship wasn’t ordered for over one hundred years because“”
“Where do we go pee?” the nervous girl who had taken forever to climb onboard asked.
The präfekt frowned, but dutifully answered. He pointed towards the stern and explained, sighing, “There are toilets at the rear. And I suppose that’s all you need to know...”
That had to mean that the captain’s cabin was located in the sterncastle.
“Let’s go find a seat before they’re all taken,” Konrad said. They seized their baggage and found a bench towards the stern.
The construction of the bench took Dieter by surprise, as it was in fact a small cannon upon closer inspection, just with a seat attached to the top. However, the gun was mounted on simple stout wooden box, instead of the expected wheeled carriage. If the box was indeed the original mount for the weapon, Dieter couldn’t help but think of how primitive and inefficient the arrangement was.
“What are you looking at?” Konrad asked curiously, for Dieter was closely inspecting the cannon-turned-bench.
“Ha! That is really interesting,” he exclaimed suddenly.
“What is?”
“It’s a breech-loader. A very early one, at that, but still a breech-loading cannon,” explained Dieter. Konrad just looked at him blankly.
“Okay, Konrad, do you know how a cannon works?” Dieter asked.
He scratched his head and said, “What’s a cannon? Is that one of those things that goes ‘boom’?”
Evidently, Konrad didn’t have the slightest idea of how projectile weapons worked, or even what they were. Dieter was amazed and puzzled, to say the least. Most people he knew couldn’t explain how a cannon worked, but they could at least identify one when they saw it, so Konrad must have been surprisingly ignorant. Dieter spent a few minutes describing the workings of the cannon, and how the fact that it was a breech-loader as opposed to muzzle-loader explained why the gun’s carriage didn’t have any provisions for backwards movement, and made it rare for its time.
“I didn’t understand a single thing you said right there, but I take your word for it,” Konrad admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Now, I have a question for you. Would you mind explaining to me what it is you’re wearing?”
“What do you mean?” said Dieter, nonplussed. “What do you need to know about my Deutsches Jungvolk uniform?”
“Well, what is it?” Konrad asked, confused that Dieter seemingly didn’t understand his question. “What’s this Deutsches Jungvolk thing?”
Dieter was also confused. “Aren’t you a member?”
“No. Should I?”
Dieter could not believe what he was hearing. “Of course you should! It’s compulsory “ every boy in Germany from the age of ten to fourteen has to be in it, and when you turn fifteen, you transfer to the Hitler Jugend. Even girls are part of the National Socialist movement.”
“And what’s that?”
Heads turned in Dieter’s direction, but he didn’t notice. “Mein Gott, are you German or what? How can you not know what National Socialism is? How can you not be a part of it?”
Konrad’s face was bright red, and Dieter suddenly realised he risked alienating the closest thing he had to a new friend at Durmstrang. Konrad mumbled, “Sorry, it was just a question…”
“No, I’m sorry,” Dieter insisted. “So… let me get one thing straight. Have you had any contact with anyone non-magical?”
“Not really, no.”
“So what you’re saying is that you and your family have kept your secret of magic so secret that you’ve avoided all contact with ‘Muggles’?”
Konrad scrunched his face up in thought and replied, “Essentially, yes.”
“Huh. I should have known…” Dieter sighed. Whenever he had thought of the magical world, he had always assumed that wizards and witches lived much like Dieter did: amongst Muggles, but harbouring a great secret only relatives and other magical people were entitled to know. Only now did Dieter understand that wizards enforced secrecy by living in complete isolation from the non-magical population.
He explained his misunderstanding and apologised to Konrad, who replied, “No offence taken. I guess we don’t know much of anything about each other’s worlds.” He smiled. “So, can you tell me about your uniform…?”
Dieter patiently described the Deutches Jungvolk and the part it played in the greater National Socialist movement. Konrad listened, enraptured, though Dieter was under the impression his friend didn’t understand half of things he was saying.
“That’s a lot to remember,” Konrad said after Dieter’s lengthy explanations.
“Not really. It’s quite simple.”
Then it was Konrad’s turn to talk about the wizarding world and for Dieter to be confused. The conversation revolved entirely around some magical sport called ‘Kwidditch’, for which Konrad evidently had unlimited enthusiasm. From what Dieter gathered, the game was played on broomsticks, but that was all he could understand.
As they talked, the ship cruised underwater, surfaced to pick up some more students, dived again, and continued towards its next stop. Over several hours, the lower deck got steadily more crowded and noisier “ Dieter and Konrad had to speak quite loudly over the buzz of hundreds of conversations just to hear each other. Furthermore, it seemed to be getting hotter, and the air stuffier. Though wafts of liberating fresh air entered through the hatch every each stop, the half-hour intervals between each surfacing and the hundreds of bodies inside a closed space ensured that breathing got uncomfortable quite quickly.
“Now, this is just awful,” Konrad admitted. “I can’t wait to get off this ship.”
“But it builds character!” joked Dieter. Checking his watch, it was mid-afternoon…
The only thing to keep their minds off the boat ride was to keep talking, in this case about their wands. “…heartstring of a Norwegian Ridgeback and thirty-three centimetres of ebony,” Dieter concluded, showing Konrad his wand.
“Thirty-three what? Centimetres? What’s that in inches…?”
Konrad’s wand was of springy olive wood, had a core of unicorn tail hair, and was eleven inches long. Sizing it up alongside his own wand and making some mental calculations, Dieter figured Konrad’s wand was about twenty-eight centimetres long.
“…And when I tested out my wand for the first time in the shop, I managed to shoot some sparks in Herr Starkerstab’s eyes!” Konrad was saying. “Of course, I didn’t mean to do that, but the wandmaker charged my father an extra Badger for that. My father wasn’t too upset though, he was just happy I got a wand.”
“What does your father do, by the way?” Dieter asked suddenly. He was interested to know what kinds of jobs wizards performed.
An editor for a newspaper was the answer, and Dieter was disappointed that it wasn’t anything more dramatic. Dieter then explained what his father did as an administrator in his hometown. He had been a Party member since 1930 and worked in the town’s local chapter ever since, but a promotion to town Arbeitsleiter had so far been elusive. “…He has moved up to managing the town post office, but“”
He was interrupted by the arrival of two boys. One boy was tall, skinny, had a thin face ending in a pointy weak chin, and had mid-length black hair that was slicked straight back. The other was close to the opposite in stature, being shorter, built like a brick, and with short blonde hair that was of a light enough shade to be almost white.
The tall one drawled in a strange accent, “Excuse me, but we need to sit down. Can you scoot over“”
The tall boy suddenly stopped speaking, for he had chosen instead to stare at Dieter with eyes narrowed. There was an awkward pause.
“Never mind,” the tall boy said, and the pair walked away without looking back.
“What was that about?” Dieter wondered. Konrad shrugged his shoulders. The two resumed their conversation, and after a few more hours, they heard some very welcome news.
“Everyone, look lively and get your uniforms on!” a präfekt announced. “We will dock at Durmstrang in fifteen minutes!”
There was a resounding cheer. Undoubtedly, everyone wanted to get off the ship as soon as possible. Dieter and Konrad extracted their crimson Durmstrang uniforms from their trunks and simply put them over the clothes they were already wearing. Others (mostly girls) felt they had to exhibit a degree of modesty while changing into the red robes, and there was a queue leading to the washrooms at the stern of the ship.
True to the präfekt’s word, the voyage finally came to an end within fifteen minutes. The ship slowed, and with yet another great sucking and rumbling sound, it breached the surface. The hatches popped open and glorious, moist air filled the lower deck. After a minute or so, Dieter could no longer feel movement, for the ship sloshed to a stop.
Black boots thudded down the steep staircase, and the Norwegian head präfekt appeared, soaked to the skin and dripping puddles on the floor. He put his wand to his throat and warmly announced, “Welcome to Durmstrang, students. Prepare to disembark.”