"And where are you dragging me to?" Ivan asked with an expression that suggested he had been torn away from something sacred — namely, sleep. "Early morning, seriously. On a Sunday, no less. Today, only the first-years have class. And even then, it's shortened and there's only one, just so they don't get too comfortable."
"Think back to our first year. The first Sunday at Durmstrang." I took some pity on Volgin and gave him a hint. He looked so pitiful, the little scoundrel.
"And what of it?" he didn't get it at first. Then, after thinking it over, he caught on. "Aaaa..."
"It wouldn't be very polite to say it, but you're not exactly a model of politeness either, so… Bbb." I said, rotating my right palm as if to show the "culture" I'd just mentioned. Some gesturing during casual conversations had long since become a habit of mine, one I'd picked up in this life.
"c, d, i, f, g," the brunette grumbled. "I'm starting to regret becoming friends with you. You pick up on all sorts of... stuff way too easily."
"And again, as you Russians say: You are who you hang around with." I purposely used the Russian proverb rather than its German equivalent.
The sight of him rubbing his temples was my reward.
"I'm curious about one thing... Why haven't I picked up anything from you? On second thought, it's probably for the best. I don't want to tie my tongue into Kama Sutra positions trying to say all the nonsense you can come up with."
"Let's skip over how you know about that fascinating little Japanese thing... But, my friend, you'll definitely have to learn it. You know how it is — all that pesky growing up, tedious pure-blood adult matters..." I shrugged with a clear smirk, causing Ivan to hang his head with a heavy sigh.
He reminds me of some character from a Japanese anime... I just can't remember which one or where from. All I recall is that everything was a hassle for him... And the rest? Well, it's been fifteen years...
"Why are you making such a nostalgic face?" the Russian grumbled, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Instead of being curious, you'd better put on a more serious face. Otherwise, the first-years will mistake you for the only kind soul among these respected upperclassmen... And then they'll pester you with requests to relay their messages to us." I spoke with a satisfied grin. This meant quite a headache for the kind soul in question, and knowing Ivan...
As if to confirm my thoughts, Volgin's face took on an unusually serious and authoritative look. Now, it was easy to believe he was my de facto deputy. The simple manipulation worked perfectly. But sometimes, people don't need much more, even if you expect otherwise.
Now it's time to play out the scene we had already prepared, aligning with the roles the others around us believed we held. The first-years would meet our well-known personas — the cheerful and pleasant-to-talk-to gentleman Stahlwolf and his very serious Russian deputy.
Along with them, a mad scientist, a big guy, a schizophrenic, a wild she-wolf, and two gossips, right.
But those are just trifles. Mere trifles.
***
Erzsébet Báthory.
The namesake of her famous ancestor, well-known among Muggles in this part of the world, was entirely calm. Especially since she had already heard about this... tradition from her older brother.
Every first-year of the Wolf House gathers in the common room after the first week to meet with the fifth-years. According to this tradition, the older students are supposed to explain the school's unspoken rules to the newly enrolled students, as well as the general situation at the institute — something that parents, for the most part, kept quiet about. This silence was true for all of her acquaintances as well.
In turn, the first-years got acquainted with the older generation, whom they could later approach for help, advice… In short, as Erzsébet's mother had once put it, the older "wolf cubs" help and train the young newcomers, just like a pack.
This comparison… irritated her somewhat. It sounded far too childish, not at all what a respectable lady of the Báthory family should be saying. Her father, on the other hand, merely cast a meaningful glance away, clearly implying that she was still a child herself.
However, she couldn't blame him. If he wasn't observant enough to notice that she was more mature than her peers... well, that was entirely his problem and had nothing to do with her. It was unfortunate for the pure-blooded Báthory family to have such an insufficiently sharp head. The fact that she thought of her own father this way didn't bother Erzsébet at all.
Why should she be concerned with pure, unvarnished truth? It was clear to the young witch that her parents had also gone through this tradition at some point... yet for some reason, they chose not to share the details. When she had children of her own, she wouldn't engage in such foolishness as deliberately withholding information that could bring advantage and immediately set them above others.
That's sheer stupidity and shortsightedness. Two things the only daughter of her family despised most.
Frowning irritably at these thoughts, her cheek twitching, the Hungarian girl exhaled through clenched teeth.
Now was certainly not the time to succumb to indignation. Exhaling more calmly, she composed her expression. She must not reveal her true emotions or what she truly thought of her future servants — among her fellow first-years in the House of the Snow Wolf, or, as its members, typically German-speaking wizards, liked to call it, Schneewolf. They had no need to know any of this. They were unworthy by her standards. She had already spent the past week observing her classmates.
And she had drawn rather unfavorable conclusions about those she evaluated.
As she stepped through the door into the dormitory common room, the girl quickly noted that more than half of her peers sorted into this House had already gathered. Even the half-bloods were present. Their punctuality was commendable. Their presence was allowed at certain parts of this traditional meeting, but even then, they were expected to remain silent and absorb what was said.
That way, they could immediately understand their place. And if they wished to change it, let them figure out how to do so. If they were unwilling to learn, they could leave Durmstrang. In Erzsébet's opinion, such people had no place in this school.
There were few loud students in the room. In the House of the Snow Wolf, such individuals were quickly silenced... Her father had told her a few stories from his school days when he personally dealt with unruly personalities. These stories were the only reason she had any respect for her father. Though the reluctance with which he shared these tales with his future Durmstrang-bound daughter... once again irritated her.
At least her older brother was less soft-hearted. He would definitely make a better head of the Báthory family than her father.
The atmosphere in the room was very similar to that of her family mansion. Silence, calm, soft lighting that didn't strain the eyes, and barely audible conversations on various topics that didn't distract. Such an environment stifled even the slightest stirrings of unease in the esteemed daughter of the Báthory family, allowing her to move confidently and with the elegance instilled in her by good tutors. She walked toward one of the sofas, arranged in a semicircle, in front of which stood several chairs.
She didn't have much time to talk with her childhood acquaintances. There was only enough time to sit down on the sofa with dignity and exchange formal, supposedly friendly greetings. Shortly after, the remaining peers of the Hungarian girl began entering the room, and within a minute, the older students followed.