And so, the fifth year had finally arrived.
I, looking quite handsome in one of my new French robes, was waiting at the port. Speaking of robes... Despite the common belief that the French make exclusively feminine, delicate clothes with all sorts of ruffles... That's not true at all. I used to be among the mistaken ones until I studied the subject more thoroughly.
The port served as the departure point for that very canonical Durmstrang ship, which was supposed to sail across the giant lake ahead to reach the institute itself, located on the opposite shore. It was quite reminiscent of the Hogwarts Express, I must say. Only more ancient. After all, the train was invented later and only reached the magical community even later. Though it should be noted, in this regard, British wizards are more progressive. In continental Europe, they still turn their noses up at trains. Even some Muggle-borns, which is even more amusing.
As for the lake... Like the rest of the magical world, it wasn't marked on human maps. Its size hardly lagged behind Lake Baikal, and in terms of water purity, it might even surpass it. All in all, it was an extremely beautiful place and would have been a popular vacation spot among wizards if its location weren't a secret, known only to Durmstrang students and alumni. However, all the latter have a block in their minds, placed by Durmstrang itself through Legilimency. Consent to this post-graduation procedure is mandatory for all who enroll.
The essence of the block is that it prevents the disclosure of Durmstrang's location, and instead, the wizard will say or write some incomprehensible nonsense. Perhaps a particularly skilled Legilimens could break through such protection, but my knowledge on the subject is limited.
What can I say, the place is definitely worth such efforts to keep it hidden. The purest air, pleasant natural landscapes... After the terrible air in the urban developments of modern cities, it's simply paradise.
Hmm... And here comes one of the members of my "group of sycophants and flatterers," as one Russian fraulein sarcastically put it.
"Good morning, Gertrude," I greeted the disheveled girl, taking a few steps to the northeast.
"And to you... Aaahhhh..." She yawned widely without a care in the world, revealing perfectly white teeth.
Who is Gertrude Verberg, really?
The first thing that comes to mind is the well-known trope from comics and movies about all sorts of mad scientists. The girl definitely possesses traits typical of those specimens of humanity. If she weren't a witch, she would have undoubtedly gone into science... and become famous for inventing something particularly dangerous.
As it is, she's more of a mad alchemist - she's way too drawn to potion-making, alchemy, and everything related to them.
In fact, she was one of the two half-bloods that my family, and I in particular, had taken under our protection. My much-respected mother approved of their candidacies, so now they certainly wouldn't be lost in the magical world. Plus, they would help me carry out some plans I'd been forming while speculating about what I'd do in the future. Moving in high society and studying magic is all well and good, but alas, those who don't need to work or take care of many everyday tasks have much more free time.
Though I wouldn't say that's a bad thing, nooo...
"As always. You stayed up all night reading before the first day of school," I concluded simply and logically. Apart from her general exhaustion, the bags under her eyes, visible beneath her glasses, confirmed it.
"Books are far more useful than sleep," my fellow countrywoman in this life shrugged. "Besides, your mother wouldn't tolerate useless subordinates," she added, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes.
"You're already the most useful, at least in terms of skills," I didn't bother to correct her about the "subordinates" remark, as that's essentially what they were. Just very trusted ones. "And you don't care about her opinion anyway," I continued, lowering my voice significantly since there was no need to maintain formalities in private conversation.
Especially with so many people around, it would be difficult for anyone to overhear and accuse me of lacking respect for my mother. Despite the friendly relationship Gertrude and I had developed, maman was only interested in the usefulness my friends and acquaintances could bring to me and to the Stahlwolf family as a whole. Though, what family is there to speak of… It's just me and her among the current members. In general, magical families aren't as large as aristocratic ones in the non-magical world.
"Should I take that as a compliment?" she raised an eyebrow, stretching wearily and yawning again.
This time, at least, she covered her mouth with her hand - apparently noticing my disapproving look. It's one thing to act like that in private, which I can understand. But it's another thing to behave this way in front of a crowd of people. They won't hear anything over the chatter, that much is certain, but seeing it… quite possible. And then some particularly foolish individuals might dare to express their disapproval to me.
It seemed that my friend had decided to fully enjoy… How can I put this delicately… her freedom before school started. Maybe there's a better way to phrase it, but I'm too lazy to think of it now.
Because once we arrive at Durmstrang, she will, whether she likes it or not, have to show some culture and basic manners. After all, as my mother once mentioned, a leader's image is made by their subordinates. The saying isn't new, but it's still relevant and applies to all worlds.
Moreover, the fact that reputation among people who value etiquette and the like is highly prized was something I knew even in my previous life. That's why I made it a point to keep certain academics on edge about it, and I still do.
"Consider it a statement of fact," I shrugged. The only thing I could really say about Gertrude in this regard was that she was attractive, with considerable curves in all the right places, and she was only fifteen... But her personality was not what I was looking for, far from it. She's the kind of person it's good to have as a friend, but as for deepening any kind of relationship… not so much.
Besides, she couldn't care less about romantic relationships of any kind.
"Got it…" My companion's gaze flicked over my shoulder. "You promised to give me a few of her teeth for analysis if she did that again." Her green eyes met mine once more, now with a familiar but rather unsettling glint in them.
Fortunately, that glint wasn't directed at me.
"I did," I confirmed, then quickly pivoted on one foot, bringing myself face to face with another girl, a blonde just like me, in mere seconds.
Casting an irritated glance at her - there was no other way to describe her sly but admittedly charming face - I closed my eyes to enhance the effect of what I was about to do. Speaking in the friendliest tone and with the warmest smile in my entire repertoire, I began:
"Fraulein de Welt! I'm so happy to see you… To our mutual joy and with our mutual consent, I'll now be borrowing a few of your teeth for the sake of scien - uh, I mean, for potion-making and alchemy in general! I assure you, fraulein, this will seriously advance magic in those fields! And it's also very likely to reveal some key facts about vampires, which, according to your own unshakable claims, you most certainly are!"
It came out a bit ridiculous and fantastical, but there was no other way to talk to this person. My psyche wouldn't survive otherwise.
Luna Lovegood, made in Continental Europe, for heaven's sake.
The madame took a good ten seconds to process my speech, and only after that did some trace of understanding finally appear on her face.
"Uhh… That's quite the twist you put on it, blond brother…" she croaked in surprise, taking a cautious step back. "I think I'll return when alchemy no longer needs me - or my teeth…" And with that, she started slowly retreating.
"I did ask you to stop calling me that," I said, stepping forward sharply, fixing my gaze on her. Now that she had snapped out of her confusion, she had resumed spouting her usual nonsense.
She shot me a wary look, which had a clear undertone of falsehood, and quickly made her way into the crowd of students, disappearing as fast as if she were waltzing. Classic. This tactic had worked flawlessly for five years now. Though, to be fair, this time the insufferable girl had clearly overdone it.
"Next time, then," came the indifferent remark from the bespectacled figure behind me.
Who exactly have I surrounded myself with? By Merlin, I'm starting to think Mr. Potter's company might be more reasonable after all.