So, the autumn holidays have arrived. In the same amount of time, the winter break will come, followed by the spring one, and soon it will be time to say goodbye to the fifth year. However, that is still quite far off.
Reaching the designated area in the port where the use of Portkeys is permitted, I, under the watchful eyes of the local security, who are appointed by the school administration, pulled an ordinary-looking coin from my pocket by its chain and touched it with my finger.
Such a precaution was necessary to avoid any... unfortunate accidents.
In the meantime, the space around me spun, and I felt a bit nauseous. But that's nothing compared to poor Karpishin, who suffers from portal sickness. He really has it rough, and that's despite his size and endurance.
After blinking a few times and shaking my head, I more or less pulled myself together and immediately looked around.
Everything was correct, no changes at the destination... Though if you believe the portrait dwellers, there were people capable of such tricks, even among the Stahlwolfs.
Our mansion was located in southern Saxony, not far from the Elbe. It was one of the many small intersections between the magical and ordinary worlds. Most old families preferred to reside in such places — far from prying eyes and surrounded by beautiful nature.
Speaking of which, the family estate was situated within a forest that grew very close to the river.
The Muggle-repelling charms are still working well enough to keep away the increasing number of tourists wandering about lately, but their presence on our territory is still somewhat irritating. They won't stumble upon the estate, as the charms cover it and a few dozen meters around it, but the world intersection spans a wider area.
If they somehow find their way into the magical world and then manage to escape back after seeing all sorts of things... we'll have to chase them down when they start talking about it.
If we just let it be, rumors will spread, and even more people will come. And if one of the regular folk dies, the cops will show up here with dogs, sniffing everything out. People in the fatherland are very meticulous — I know this firsthand, as in my previous life, I was of local descent by blood. Although, due to territorial transfers long before I was born, my first language wasn't German.
But back to the Muggles.
Perhaps I should suggest to my mother that we find a way to drive them off these lands? There has to be something we can come up with. After all, besides the world intersection, there's also the local predatory flora and fauna. Not hippogriffs, and certainly not dragons, but no less dangerous for ordinary people.
And that brings us back to the hassle with the police. Oh well, these are still pointless musings for now.
Drawing my wand, I traced a key in the air, unlocking an invisible door within the myriad of protective barriers. Contact with these barriers — either physically or magically — would trigger the defense mechanisms... defenses that not even my mother could overcome.
I suspect a team of elite wizards and a heap of resources would be required to reach the mansion. It's far easier to catch its owner outside than to assault such a fortress. This is why feuds among old wizarding families can drag on for decades without any progress; once locked inside, a wizard can provide for themselves indefinitely.
As far as I know, there are currently three such reclusive families hiding from their numerous enemies. One of them consists of former supporters of Grindelwald, who tried to continue the war but were ultimately driven into their mansion and, essentially, remain trapped there to this day... The second...
"Master Adalbert!" squeaked a house-elf, appearing before me as soon as I opened the door and crossed the threshold.
To be precise, a house-elf female. But honestly, you can only tell by the tone of voice. As for their appearance... As useful as these creatures are, they are equally... Well, many noble families like mine wouldn't mind giving them something to wear that wouldn't spoil the family's image, but... that would break the magical servitude contract due to an absolutely ridiculous condition! And there's no way to fix this problem, since even the slightest hint that the master wants to give clothes to the house-elf sends them into a panic. Without the active and voluntary participation of the elves themselves, the contract cannot be changed. Many have tried, and just as many have failed.
"Hello, Naina," I nodded, hanging my coat on the rack. At least ours wears a clean rag that resembles a Roman toga. That's something, at least. "Is Mother home?"
"The Mistress is in her private office! Naina saw her there ten minutes ago!" she responded after a moment of hesitation, shaking her large ears.
"Got it. Prepare breakfast as usual, I'm hungry," I said lazily, heading straight for the nearby staircase leading to the second floor.
Once upstairs, I turned into the eastern wing and quickly made my way to a massive wooden door with intricate carvings.
Knocking four times, as was customary, I immediately opened the door. Despite its size, the door could be opened even by a child, and I stepped inside.
"Did something happen?" I asked, noticing the pile of papers on the desk. I tensed slightly and raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Just another scheme from the Ministry's imbeciles. It's irritating, but harmless enough that we decided not to escalate the situation," came the irritated reply from a woman who could easily pass for under thirty.
The gaze of Hildegarde Annalise Stahlwolf, cast in my direction from beneath her enchanted glasses, quickly shifted from irritation to curiosity.
"Go on, tell me what happened. I heard bits and pieces, but..." she waved her hand vaguely in the air.
"Strangely enough, another idiotic scheme. To a lesser degree, but the schemers are cut from the same cloth," I said, collapsing into the chair opposite her. "However, the nonsense they caused gives me just as much of a headache."
"As always, no matter how much you wish for change, nothing changes. But enough with the brief reflection. Details," she said, her tired blue eyes, a shade darker than mine, suddenly turning steely and demanding.
At first, I was honestly intimidated by that gaze, despite everything.
"As they say in stories like this — nothing foretold the trouble at first..." I began, pulling myself together and detailing the incident with our Quidditch team's equipment.
I even mentioned how I completely lost my temper and acted... not entirely rationally. All because my dear maman doesn't punish failures or mistakes. She simply, coldly and dispassionately, explains what went wrong, and you'll never hear a word of understanding or anything like that from her.
Not the best parenting method, to be honest, but it's effective and clear. That's just the kind of woman she is.
"In this case, I can say I'm glad you were angry not only at the foolish prank but also because of your lack of subordinates who could help you with this issue," she nodded, this time seeming unwilling to dissect everything in detail.
She's definitely tired.
"Yes... All of my, um, friends are useful to me in one way or another, but my only executor in such situations is too hot-headed, and the others simply wouldn't have managed," I grimaced. As for Erika, I was confident she could get out of such a dangerous situation in one piece, and with the things, too, but I couldn't vouch for her subordinates.
"Let's drop this subject for now. We haven't found a solution to the situation, and the circumstances are such that even we can't overcome them," my mother said, finally taking a break from the papers. She rubbed her temples with her fingers before continuing, "You mentioned Edelfelt and her situation."
"Yes... and that's something that needs to be resolved, but without consulting you..." I shrugged, as if to say, you understand.
"The girl is smart. As you told her, we still have time. But I understand — the matter of your engagement will be thoroughly discussed soon," she said, opening her eyes. "Perhaps even with Edelfelt herself. But that depends on her parents. They are rather ambiguous individuals, based on the scant reliable information I have. Although, again, there's the dean's granddaughter..."
"She's what, five years younger than me, or something? She's supposed to enroll at Durmstrang next year, if I remember correctly," I rummaged through my memory, recalling one of the many daughters of the pureblood families of Eastern Europe.
"That's not much of an issue. Of course, her parents might object, and if not for Zigrain, I probably wouldn't be able to push such an alliance... But Herr Krimhild, unlike them, is quite pragmatic," my maman mused aloud without the slightest hesitation, seemingly oblivious to my presence.
Then again, she didn't need to notice anything. If the age gap were ten years, I might have protested... but now, I don't really feel like it. When you're young, a five-year difference seems significant. But how many marriages between adults with that kind of age gap exist, have existed, and will exist? Quite a lot.
"And yet, with that age range, the pool of potential brides expands to an indecent number," I remarked without much enthusiasm, stretching. "So, any changes to the holiday plans?"
"Not significantly, but let's postpone that topic for now. As for the plans... there are a couple of changes. We will make a stop in Britain regarding..."
"Harry Potter, I presume?"
"Don't interrupt. It's uncultured, impolite, and unbecoming of a pureblood," the woman declared automatically. But, catching herself, she continued in a more thoughtful tone: "But you're right. That boy, who's now all the rage among the burghers, has enrolled at Hogwarts. His past is obviously unclear, and we won't take seriously those ridiculous so-called books written about him by admiring idiots — some of whom, to my shame, are even our countrymen... Still, public sentiment is quite clear, and the boy could significantly influence the political landscape in Britain. Not now, of course, but if I didn't think about the future, I'd be as foolish as Lockhart's fangirls," Hildegarde launched into her explanation. "And regardless of what people say, the situation there will impact politics across Europe, and likely the U.S. as well. So, it's necessary to clarify what's happening."
"Who's handling affairs there now? The Blacks? The Malfoys?" I asked thoughtfully, furrowing my brow.
"The Malfoys. Arcturus Black passed away recently, and the others don't have long either — Cassiopeia, Araminta... The rest are now under different surnames. And their heir is in Azkaban," she shook her blonde head. "That's another strange story. I met him a few times. That renegade and jokester..." the sorceress twitched her cheek "He killed those beloved Muggles of his? Ha!" she snorted derisively, clearly showing her opinion about the event that happened a decade ago. "In short, everyone sees the Malfoys as the rightful heirs to the Black seat, especially considering the fact that the current head, Lucius, son of Abraxas, is married to Narcissa Black."
"I assume we're not the only ones planning to clarify the situation in Britain?" I asked, digesting the information.
"We're not alone. But the French have long had better ties with the islanders, so I think they'll manage without a personal visit. They'll find out through the Malfoys themselves. The Italians... they could, but it's unlikely. Either they'll find out from the French or through Madame Zabini, who has been active in the peninsula's political life in recent years."
"So, the main interest is on our side — throughout Eastern Europe," I corrected myself at the last moment.
"Exactly. Along with us, the Bathorys will go, and from the Ukrainians, almost certainly the Karpishins... If Krimhild weren't the dean, he would've gone instead of us."
"So, we've been chosen as representatives of all of Germany?" I marveled.
I wasn't expecting that. While we're not exactly outsiders, still...
"It cost me quite a bit of time and resources," Hildegarde grimaced as if in pain. "Fortunately, you made a good impression on the old man, and he supported us. And overall... it's time to start securing you one of the leading positions. Your father... he let that slip away, trading it for an inglorious death in one of his many duels... Don't repeat his mistakes." Her blue eyes, filled with tentative hope, stared at me. Considering the kind of personality behind those eyes...
Well, all I could do was nod firmly.