Meanwhile, the Sorting had finally finished, and the tables filled with food, as lavish as ever — richer than anything at Hogwarts, for sure. The pure-blood families, who funded the school, never skimped on their children.
I wasn't particularly hungry, so it was easy for me not to attack the food like some of the half-bloods. Life hasn't taught them much, and yet they still think they can make a stand... The Unjoined.
A pretentious name, but their position is foolish. If you want to oppose the existing order, then go join Dumbledore's Army or some similar group instead of irritating us, who you believe are snobs and your oppressors. If you want to study, sit quietly.
Well, no need to spoil my appetite. They're just buzzing mosquitoes, nothing more.
"De Welt," I quietly addressed the blonde who had joined us. Despite her upbringing, she ignored even the most basic, simple rules of etiquette.
I'm not the strictest follower of all the formalities I now have to observe, but I understand the necessity when dealing with those who aren't close friends.
"Stahlwolf," she replied, a mischievous glint in her golden eyes. This girl was a curious mix of Luna Lovegood and the Weasley twins. She had the quirks of the former and much of the character of the latter.
We stared at each other for a few seconds before I finally sighed.
"Manners, Fräulein." I kept my response brief, deciding not to say more, lest I give her any reason for more jokes or strange comments.
"Jawohl, mein Führer." she mock-saluted with a grin. At least she didn't actually throw her arm up like the Hitlergruß — small victories.
I'd gotten used to this long ago, so my reaction was... well, no reaction at all. I returned to my meal, occasionally glancing at the first-years who had been sorted into my House. This year, Erika and I had been made prefects.
From the perspective of an average 21st-century person — especially someone from Russian society — the prestige of being a prefect might seem laughable or trivial. But here, it's different. Unlike the role of a prefect in the Muggle world, where the position usually goes to the most responsible student, here it is an official confirmation of leadership within the House.
One leader from each gender.
The same goes for the school prefects — there, you become the recognized leaders of all of Durmstrang.
It's somewhat similar to how it works in Slytherin at Hogwarts, from what I know. Tom Riddle, then both Malfoys...
"Anything interesting?" Erika asked, now calm after thoroughly, and this time within the bounds of propriety, scolding her errand boys. They were now so afraid of her that they barely dared to breathe in her direction, practically blending into the background like pieces of furniture.
"Mmm..." I drawled. It wouldn't do to tell her that I hadn't figured much out yet. "You know as well as I do, even I can't see everything… As for anything interesting… The only thing that stands out is a few half-bloods who seem to know how to use cutlery." The utensils here were, of course, different from the usual fork, spoon, and knife most people are accustomed to. I had to memorize the names and uses of all the different types, and at least half of them are represented here.
So, if you manage to spot how someone uses their utensils at another, well, table, you can quickly deduce something about their upbringing. Or at the very least, part of their personality. Maybe they were taught how to properly hold a fork but refuse to do so out of rebellion.
It's not just about the cutlery either. There are countless little things these kids — who might just seem like children — have been trained in almost since birth.
What a blessing it is that I was reborn into this world rather than ending up in some ordinary ten-year school. Otherwise, I'd have a lot more problems to deal with, yes indeed.
"Hawkeye" de Welt giggled strangely, finally deigning to use the proper fork for her salad instead of the one meant for fish.
I'm familiar with that reference, but I have no idea how it fits here. Then again, trying to understand the logic of the eccentric might lead me to become just as unhinged.
"So, this year's intake will be more... sensible than last year's?" asked Volgin, whose irritation wasn't with the lack of manners displayed by some of the kids — who were often spoiled by their parents far worse than many pure-bloods...
Ah, those poor advocates for half-blood rights, looking down on the so-called "decadent" pure-bloods.
If only they knew about Neville's childhood, the very definition of pure-blood from an ancient family.
…What actually bothered my friend was the noise — the excited squeals of the children, utterly clueless about the need to restrain themselves, as they gawked at nearly everything in the castle. And this was here, where making too much noise could even lead to corporal punishment (only for half-bloods, though, and eight out of ten sources of noise were, unsurprisingly, half-bloods). I can't imagine the chaos in Hogwarts... Ugh. Thank goodness I became a German, not an Englishman.
"As the saying from your homeland goes, my friend, still waters run deep. I'm sure at least one of them will test all of our patience... and I'll finally lose mine and hand them over to Gertrude for experiments."
This year promises to be... interesting.