Classes began the Monday after the Nativity of the Theotokos. The Russian students had been arriving for a week or more. The Germans and Balts that Ewald van Lübeck transported arrived in plenty of time to settle in their dormitories. Ilse's brother Detleff seemed to keep up well enough, but the Highmaster made it clear to everyone at morning assembly that the boy would receive no special treatment. If he couldn't follow along in Russian, no one was allowed to translate for him.
Despite the Highmaster's misgivings, Detleff proved to be a very bright and eager boy who had no troubles with the language. After a month and a half, he had shown himself to be the most talented Novice at Durmstranga Dvor—to the joy of his proud older sister.
As October turned to November, students and teachers began to prepare for the long Russian winter. Outdoor excursions, either to the gardens or outside the city walls to encounter magical creatures, were discontinued. Instead, homework assignments got longer. Most nights the Scriptorium was packed with frantic Novices and Intermediates copying page after page of some magical tome.
The Highmaster's first class on the first day of the Nativity Fast was History and Philosophy of Magic with his Intermediate and Adept students. He was pleased that everyone seemed to follow his discussion of Kalonymus's contributions to the development of magic—although of course they groaned inwardly when he assigned his Intermediates to copy an entire chapter from the Life of Kalonymus for next week. His Adepts were given the same assignment, plus preparing to debate the advantages of Kalonymus's approach to Transfiguration over that of Rowenne of Ravenclaw.
He then dismissed the Intermediates to their Potions class with Master Gridebor so he could work on the Dark Arts with his Adepts. There were five students in this category, ranging in age from fourteen to sixteen. In addition, his two oldest and most accomplished students, seventeen-year-old boys who liked to style themselves the "Sons of Durmstang," attended these lessons and assisted the Highmaster in teaching them. These two, Abakum, a Russian, and a Finn by the name of Pentti, magicked the long writing benches to the sides of their Highmaster's large classroom to create an open space in the center.
"Let us take up where we left off last week," the Highmaster began. Everyone gathered around him. "You have already been exposed to the Zapovedi Curse. Before we move on, we must review both how to cast this particular spell and practice resisting its effects." He eyed the students gathered around him, searching for a suitable pair. Finally, he settled on Doben, the youngest student in this advanced group. "Doben," he said, "I'd like you to attempt the spell on…Vietso. Vietso, you must gather your thoughts and attempt to resist, do you understand?"
Vietso nodded his head, but looked unconvinced. The two boys squared off facing each other at about seven paces. Doben pulled his wand from the leather sheath at his belt. Both boys took deep breaths.
Doben furrowed his brow, flicked his wand, and said, "Povel'jo!"
Vietso seemed mildly dazed. He stood in place, arms loosely at his side.
"Vietso," he said, "I would like you to…cluck like a chicken!" The look on Vietso's face indicated he thought this was the strangest request he had ever heard.
"You cannot use the subjunctive!" the Highmaster said, slapping Doben on the back of his head. "Only the imperative, or you'll never master the Zapovedi. Again!"
Doben leaned forward and tried again. "Cluck like a chicken!" he said. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Vietso began to do exactly what Doben said. The other students laughed out loud.
"That's more like it. Well done, Doben Siderov." The Highmaster gestured silently with his wand and removed Vietso from his classmate's control.
"Another pair. Evert, attempt the Zapovedi Curse on…" he scanned the room for a suitable target for the wiry German sixteen-year-old. "Yes, I believe Krasa Baikisheva will do."
The only girl among the Highmaster's Adepts took up her place on the floor. Evert pulled out his wand.
"Watch out, Krasa!" her classmates called. "Get ready for him."
Evert glanced at his teacher, then at his best friend Vietso. "Povel'jo!" he cried. Krasa stood her ground. Evert attempted the incantation again. This time, her eyes went blank just as Vietso's did.
Evert stared at Krasa for several tense seconds. "Any time now, Evert," the Highmaster said.
"Come over here, Krasa," Evert said at last, "and give me a kiss!" His classmates oohed and tittered. Krasa sashayed toward the German boy, batting her dark eyelashes. Evert smiled and pursed his lips as Krasa reached out her arms and set them softly on his shoulders.
Then she said, "Hah!" and kneed him. He crumpled to the floor, and the class burst into laughter and applause.
"It would take more than a Zapovedi to make me kiss a toad like you!" she exulted.
"Well played, Krasa Baikisheva," the Highmaster said, "For a minute even I thought you had succumbed to Evert's curse." Addressing the class, he added, "Your most powerful weapon is often deceit. Let your enemy think he has the upper hand; it can trick him into dropping his guard."
Evert crawled to the nearest wall.
"Now, while Evert attempts to recover," the laughter continued, "the rest of you pair off and practice again. You will observe that resisting the Zapovedi Curse is in some ways comparable to Occlumency—a comparison we shall explore in coming weeks." The Highmaster paced back and forth. At last he said, "Vietso, see what you can do against Krasa. And Doben and Kadibor. Proceed."
For the next half-hour, the Highmaster oversaw his students' practice. Those who performed at the highest level went on to face either Abakum or Pentti—a daunting task, either as spell-caster or as resister. Everyone was mentally exhausted by the time the Highmaster dismissed them to their Spell-Casting class with Master Dravenis.
Highmaster van Durmstrang magicked the tables and benches back into place so they would be ready for the Novices and their History lesson. The first to arrive was a young girl from Dantsig named Grete.
"Herr Hoogmester," Grete whispered, eyes wide. Since beginning studies at Durmstranga Dvor last autumn, the Highmaster could not remember the tiny blonde-haired girl ever addressing him.
"What is it, Grete?"
"Forgive me, Herr Hoogmester, but Madame Nedel'ka sent me to tell you there is a stranger at the gate."
"Someone looking for me, I take it?"
The girl nodded.
"Then take your seat, Grete, and I thank you for delivering our housekeeper's message."
The Highmaster left it to Abakum and Pentti to drill the Novices in their lessons as he attended to the unscheduled visitor. As he strode across the courtyard, he saw that Madame Nedel'ka was still leaning into the bars of the gate, hands on her hips, studying the visitor pacing on the other side.
"This must be a terribly interesting stranger," the Highmaster said. The housekeeper started and whipped around far more quickly than her stout build would have suggested was possible.
"Highmaster van Durmstrang!" she cried. "You ought never sneak up on an old woman that way!"
"My apologies, Madame Nedel'ka. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Ain't no matter," she said. "He's no odder than most, I guess." She gestured beyond the gate with a calloused thumb. Outside the gate stood a tall, broad-shouldered Slav in his sixties—about the same age as the Highmaster—in a fine, fur-lined cloak. He rocked back and forth on his heels, obviously in a state of confusion. He was looking for something, but had no idea where to start. The Highmaster scowled as he realized where he had seen this wizard before.
"I believe we can let him in, Nedel'ka," the Highmaster drawled. "He doesn't seem particularly dangerous." He passed his hand in front of a stone gargoyle to one side of the gate and the iron bars flung open. The man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of creaking metal and the sudden appearance, in the middle of what had seemed to him a solid stone wall, of a vast iron gate.
"Welcome to Durmstranga Dvor."
"H-Highmaster van D-Durmstrang," the stranger stuttered. He quickly composed himself and stepped inside the compound. "M-my name is Bolda Ch-Chortov. I am here on behalf of the Warlocks' D-Duma."
"Of course you are," the Highmaster commented. "I suppose you're here to collect some sort of tax or fee that I've somehow neglected to keep up with."
"No, Highmaster."
"No? Then do come in. We can visit in my sitting room."
The two men hurried inside, away from the icy wind. The Highmaster called for a house-elf to bring a couple of wooden cups of warmed medovukha.
"Highmaster," the emissary from the Warlocks' Duma began, "I-I have come because of some d-disturbing news we have received from the c-court of the Great Kh-khan."
The Highmaster frowned. Bolda Chortov continued.
"The Great Khan intends to call for a census of Novgorod. We have heard this from his own court wizards."
"I see." Mistress Nadezhda always insisted that Divination was an inexact science. Free will and random happenstance imposed too many variables to account for with precision. Why, then, did she always have to be right when she foresaw disaster?
"The Warlocks' Duma expects me to do something about this?"
"The Warlocks' D-Duma needs to know where you s-stand," Bolda Chortov said. He forced himself to swallow and took a sip of his medovukha. "Y-you surely realize there can be only one reason for s-such a census."
"Indeed," the Highmaster scowled. "The same reason the Warlocks' Duma insists every year on an accounting of how many students I board at Durmstranga Dvor. To squeeze as much gold out of me as possible."
"Th-the Duma has been very generous to your school, Highmaster," Bolda protested. "We ask far less from you than any comparable sized dwelling in M-Mastera Volost."
"There are no comparable sized dwellings in Mastera Volost!"
There was a long, uneasy silence.
"Even so," Bolda said. "You know what will happen when the Muggles get wind of what's coming. Everyone remembers what Nevruy did a few short years ago. They won't take kindly to any further humiliations."
"Then I suppose the Duma needs to decide whom they fear more, the Muggles or the basqaqs."
• The Feast of the Nativity of the Theotokos (i.e., the Virgin Mary) is celebrated on the 8th of September.
• Given the absence of a printing press and thus of affordable textbooks, copy work was often an intrinsic part of medieval education.
• The Nativity Fast, comparable to Advent in the Latin church, begins in mid-November.
• Rowenne is one of several possible Middle English spellings of the name Rowena.
• Dantsig (modern Danzig) is the German name of Gdańsk, Poland. The city was a home to several German merchant settlements since the twelfth century.
• Medovukha is a mildly alcoholic mead, long a popular drink in medieval Russia.