Ivan Volgin.
The boy's lazy pastime was rarely interrupted.
Having grown used to hardly needing to do anything, he loved to relax and do nothing. Perhaps if he were more hardworking, he might better utilize his remarkable intellect, which his parents and best friend often praised… But he had no interest in that.
Activities that were either energy-consuming or boring interested him very little. Let Adal handle those; he was always buzzing around, busy with typical pureblood wizard affairs, but on an entirely different scale. That was probably why even the sixth- and seventh-years listened to him. He'd likely tied them up with all sorts of obligations, debts, contracts, and other similar things. Ivan didn't really delve into that, as he intended to leave everything to more proactive people.
Maybe his father didn't like this behavior from his son and heir, but it was his own fault. He shouldn't have left the upbringing to Ivan's mother and grandmother. Neither had ever been involved in political matters, and when they were mentioned during his upbringing, it was only in passing, failing to spark even the slightest interest in him. And, apparently, they weren't bothered by this at all.
Thus, at Stahlwolf, he quickly found someone who would handle all this mess for him. Volgin didn't consider himself a complete fool, so he first made sure that none of this would harm his family. After all, they would later finalize a clear contract involving their families' business, so no one would have any problems.
For now, the Russian occasionally played the role of deputy, helping his, heh, "boss" with various tasks, which he also didn't pay much attention to. Unfortunately, to be shielded from all these boring intrigues, he had to pay a price, and the young wizard could no longer laze around all the time. Looking at the other students in their group, the Russian wizard fully understood why Adal had chosen him as his deputy.
Karpishin was probably even less interested in these things than Ivan, and his kindness didn't make him seem particularly authoritative. At least Volgin could put on an appropriate face when needed — those lessons at home hadn't been for nothing.
Erika was too hot-tempered and could cause a scene at the worst possible moment, so she clearly wasn't suited for the role either.
Weaver... He'd get eaten alive once people found out about his soft nature, despite being an incredibly smart guy. Even Karpishin was tougher than him in this regard.
As for the two slaves — erm, subordinates — of Erika, they were too terrified of her, and choosing one of them would only enrage Adalbert's fellow countrywoman.
Marta and Greta weren't close enough to trust with something this important.
As for Valérie de Welt and Gertrude… well, there was nothing to say about them.
And if you add the two idiots and one fool from… what were they called again? The Unjoined from their year? That pretty much summed up the entire year in their House.
…And now, his lazy lounging on the couch in the Wolves' dorm was interrupted by the appearance of a person… No, a Person.
If it had been Adalbert, Ivan wouldn't have bothered to get up; Adal would come over himself if he needed something from his deputy.
If it had been the Headmaster, Ivan would have reluctantly and lazily stood up. But this was their Dean, Siegrein Ulrich Krimhild.
The man whose mere glance from behind his enchanted round lenses could inspire alertness.
Everyone in the room quickly composed themselves, but the old man paid them no attention at all, staring off into one point.
"No greetings," the Dean silenced the students who were about to speak with just the raise of his wrinkled hand. "There's no time for that now. Once your prefect arrives, I'll explain why I've come." No one dared to argue with the words of this living legend.
Within a few minutes, Adalbert practically flew into the room, nearly out of breath, accompanied by another well-known figure in their House — Edelweiss. Since such a prominent course leader had shown up with his friend, it seemed that Adal's unofficial role as leader of the House and his year in particular was more important in this situation than his official role as prefect and the responsibilities that came with it.
Or maybe it's just a coincidence, and Ivan is overthinking.
Yeah, such frantic thoughts were definitely not in his nature and never led to anything good.
"It's all that damn terrifying old man's fault," Volgin thought irritably, inwardly shuddering at the sight of the Dean.
Still, Ivan hadn't seen his friend this anxious since two years ago, when something had gone wrong for him. What was even more surprising was that Luvia's condition wasn't much different.
The moment they saw the Dean, Stahlwolf slowed his step, quickly dusted off his cloak, and overall put himself in what Ivan's mother often called "a more respectable appearance."
The fourth-year girl did the same, but somehow… more elegantly, perhaps.
"They're remarkably in sync…" the wizard noted.
"Greetings, Herr Krimhild…" his friend was clearly trying to keep his voice steady, but anyone who knew the prefect well — or anyone with enough experience — could see his restrained irritation.
Krimhild seemed to fit both definitions.
"It seems you've already heard about the antics of those little degenerates, Adalbert," the old man had no intention of softening his words.
Volgin even felt a pang of envy. He could never speak like that. If not his parents, then his dearest friend would scare him into behaving. Apparently, one had to maintain a "proper standard of communication." But arguing was too much of a hassle for Ivan, so he found it easier to just nod in understanding and keep a close eye on his tongue.
"Yes, and I'm already tempted to sacrifice relations with the Ministry, Karkaroff, Dumbledore, and all the rest, just to drown their bodies in the lake. Avada leaves no traces," the blond muttered, wincing slightly, and reflexively running his open hand through his hair.
"The very lack of a trace is an excellent clue," the Dean said, closing his eyes for a moment. "But now's not the time for that. Since you're already aware, will you explain to the others?"
"As you wish," the wizard nodded, turning to the students, who had been closely observing the conversation. "I have some very unpleasant news to share…"
Ivan barely stopped himself from biting his tongue. He had such a strong urge to finish his friend's sentence with the ending of a very similar phrase. After all, that half-blood writer, a descendant of the old Polish Gogol family, but raised among the Muggle nobility of the Yanovskys, was quite popular even among pureblood wizards. Mostly in Russia, of course, but still.
Listening to the prefect, Ivan had to resist the desire to plant his palm on his face — or better yet, on the faces of the idiots responsible for this mess.
The issue was that the Quidditch team's storage for the House of the Snow Wolf had been… robbed. Almost completely, if not entirely. With the match against the Bears starting in just a few hours, there wasn't enough time to replace everything. And while the uniforms weren't a huge problem — they could either pull out old ones or simply transfigure some — the same couldn't be said for the brooms.
As far as Volgin knew, these weren't the only brooms in the school, but all the others were outdated and couldn't compete with the latest models, which had been stolen. And the Bears had the same new brooms… In short, if they didn't get them back, the Wolves' chances of losing would be enormous. And there was no chance of rescheduling the game; Karkaroff would just wave it off and say something like, "It's your storage; you're responsible for keeping it secure."
What made it worse — and was likely what had irritated Adalbert the most — was that, in this situation, the Headmaster would be completely right. Weakness wasn't tolerated at Durmstrang. Especially not in their House.
The wizard sighed heavily and tiredly.
Understanding that their House might not lose to the Gryffons — Durmstrang's recognized Quidditch champions — but rather to their main rivals for second place… Well, this led to a collective groan from the Russian, as the students started to chatter loudly, discussing the incident. Not even Krimhild's presence nearby was enough to stop the students from talking. Of course, if he had shown even a hint of formal displeasure with their behavior, they would have fallen silent… But to Ivan's disappointment, that didn't happen.
"Ahem, ahem…" The Dean finally cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. All eyes were now on him. Ivan would have shuddered under such scrutiny, but the old man didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed pleased with it.
"The students under my esteemed colleague wouldn't stoop to such a low act… So, all suspicion falls on a certain… group of individuals. A group that rarely appears here." After mentioning this group, any lingering doubts some of the students might have had were cleared up by the second half of his sentence.
Ivan had a gut feeling that something tense and exhausting was coming next…