As a chilly starry night was flashing its numerous constellations into view, Alex paced his way back to the great hall, the crunch of fresh grass audibly heard beneath his every step. He could easily see each of his exhalations forming a wisp of vapor like a light smoke. Just as he began to climb the stairs leading to the tall wooden door of the castle a figure in flame-red robes emerged in front of him.
"Hello, Vik."
"It's Viktor! What were you doing down here at…" glancing at his watch momentarily, he continued: "half past ten, Alex? You do well know about the curfew?" Viktor said, haughtily.
"I do, Vik, just went to visit Professor Karkaroff. He told a prefect to come get me." Alex slowly uttered, steadfast.
"Balderdash." Viktor snarled.
"He's standing by the Fountain of the Spooky Dragon, just go ask him yourself." Alex replied, slightly aggravated.
"The Fountain of the Sputzi Dragon, you blockhead." A nerve twitched on Viktor's temple. The prefect badge with a big golden P was shining conspicuously on his chest, slightly crooked.
Alex smirked and started pacing away.
His third year at Durmstrang has been so far welcoming. Karkaroff had said at the feast in the beginning of the year that the Triwizard tournaments are to be held again after about a hundred years, and he took this as a fortunate incident to happen in his time in school. Apparently the Triwizard tournaments were going to be held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this time, and Alex couldn't wait to pack and go to England. He was going to sign up for the championship and fortunately, that Viktor dog allegedly wasn't so interested in applying for it.
He reached the end of the hallway and stared at the brick-laden dead-end wall for a couple of seconds before drawing out his wand. He muttered "Incendio Minima!" and with a flick of his wand, the tip ignited with a dancing yellow flame.
He drew a circle in the air, as big as a human to crawl through, followed by a vertical line across the circle. The fire traced the line so that the symbol was visible like a hoop on fire. Alex watched as the symbol flew towards the wall, stuck on it, and started burning the wall, towards the center. A hole just as big as the circle appeared on the wall. Alex sheathed his wand and crawled inside the room. As he stepped out of the hole, he noticed from the corner of his eyes that the hole closed up and the wall was laden with innocent-looking bricks just like before.
The room wasn't big, probably thrice the size of his own bedroom back home, but there were colorful Persian rugs overlapping all over the floor, to the brink of the fireplace sill, and all around. A couple coffee tables were not-so-neatly placed in a rather bright corner of the room to the right of the fireplace, ottomans and armchairs surrounding it. A vast studying table was placed right on the opposite side, completely covered by nearly 15 chairs. All walls and furniture classically furnished with black and maroon tablecloths, wallpapers, and an abundance of embellishments. Staircases were spiraling up from either side of him in opposite ends of the hall, leading to girls' and boys' dormitories.
He lazily dropped himself down on an armchair near the fireplace. Someone had left The Daily Prophet on the coffee table in front of him. He took the bezoar out of his pocket and put it on the coffee table. As it slipped from his hand accidentally, a loud clang echoed throughout the room.
Uncaringly, Alex picked up The Daily Prophet and checked the date on the front page which seemed to be today's. The capitalized title on the first page read
HARRY POTTER AND THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENTS:
WILL HARRY POTTER REGISTER?
Harry Potter, he thought. The boy who lived. Alex chortled softly. He threw the daily prophet back on the table and took the bezoar and gazed at it. It emitted a matte reflection on the surface.
"What a day it's going to be tomorrow." he muttered to himself. He felt too drowsy to go upstairs to the dormitory. He threw his legs up on the coffee table as he pocketed the bezoar, enjoying the wave of warmth flowing in from the fireplace on his left. He picked up the black Ushanka on his head, swiftly shaking his head to let his long hair fall down onto his shoulders. Alex had always been proud of his beautiful naturally straight brown hair. It honestly was something to envy. He dropped his Ushanka on the table, laid back on the armchair and gave in to the temptation of letting his eyelids drop. And he slowly fell into a starry daze.