Sprachgefühl: A natural talent or instinct for learning languages.
Summer in Durmstrang was one of the school's best-kept secrets. Outsiders had assumed for centuries, due to the school's supposed location which ranged from somewhere in the depths of Siberia, the skirts of the Lofoten, the peak of Store Trollhøin, or even the Musala mountain where he often went hiking with his siblings, that Durmstrang suffered from vicious winters and non-existent summers. They were wrong. Well, not entirely. Durmstrang winters were, indeed, rather harsh. Summer, however, was beautiful. The rolling hills burst with sweet herbs and wildflowers, with the occasional roe deer herd grazing. The Green River on its way from the mountains to the sea roared, swollen with fresh snow melt. The Gardens of Durmstrang were filled with apple, pear, almond and plum trees, whose white blossoms in spring echoed the snowy peaks of the mountains in the background and which now showed the promise of a lush fruit harvest among their tender green leaves. As for where it exactly was… all guesses were true, and none of them.
Viktor stepped through the dimension portal and basked in the sunlight that poured down the crystal clear sky like golden syrup while he waited for the bridge to materialize over the river. As he passed through the gates, he was overcome with gladness. Viktor loved his alma mater. Ever since his graduation, he had come back every summer to supervise a week-long Quidditch summer school. The professors who knew him from his school days were still very fond of him, especially the then Ancient Runes professor and current Headmaster Hakan Inan. He was also just the wizard Viktor was looking for.
He entered the main building and walked towards the Elevators through the Entrance Hall against the flow of what looked like a large group of first-year language preparatory school pupils who were on their way out. He couldn't help but smile. Durmstrang was a very large and very international school. Classes were offered in German, Russian and Swedish, and pupils were required to be proficient in at least two of these languages to be able to start their magical formation. English was still not an official language, though, despite the school's efforts to open up, and was taught only as an elective course to all years. The new Headmaster was very progressive, but Durmstrang already had a massive demand, and they tried to keep the number of applicants under control by maintaining the language barrier. Two years of language school was offered to all pupils from the age of nine before their formal education started. Viktor had been a mummy's boy - he had refused to be separated from his family so early and received private language tutoring instead, but had regretted his decision as soon as he had started school and seen that many kids already had formed friend groups. Nowadays, the little girls and boys were even allowed to go home every day after classes, and wore cheerful baby blue preparatory school robes. The former school uniforms that were more fit for the Red Army had been banished as soon as Karkaroff was gone.
While affectionately watching the children, Viktor soon realized that he was splitting the flow of pupils like Moses split the Red Sea. The smooth, round, laughing faces grew sceptical at the sight of him, the tiny legs moved faster, and no one, not even those who were brave enough to stare at his face longer than a few seconds, came nearer than a kid's arm's length to him. I am scaring the small children, he thought. He halted briefly, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a window. A nose that had been broken one too many times, werewolf-like eyebrows permanently knitted to a scowl… and big. He was too damn large. If he were an Animagus, his form would probably be a wardrobe. Viktor liked working out and tended to bulk up. During his days as a professional athlete he had managed to stay light, but since he had stopped having his portions weighed out for him for every meal, he looked more like a bouncer than a seeker. His stature was advantageous for intimidating his opponents and keeping overly enthusiastic fans at bay, but he didn't want to have such an effect on children. He liked kids, dammit. He rubbed his face in a futile effort to soften his features, and then the back of his neck in frustration, quickening his steps to the Elevators. Maybe next time he could forego the black leather trench coat. What about green? He vaguely remembered Hermione saying that green had a calming effect on people.
When he reached the end of the Entrance Hall, the surrounding walls faded, and he was in the middle of white nothingness. The Master of the Elevators stood before him.
"Добро пожаловать в родную Альма-матер, Виктор Григорьев Крумов. Сообщите цель вашего визита?" The Master of the Elevators smiled, greeting him with a deep bow. A lemon-coloured hooded cloak covered his entire self, except his brown, wrinkled left hand that held the teak staff he leaned on, and his face that was adorned with a thousand laughter lines.
"Приветствую Вас, Управляющий Лифтами. Я прошу аудиенции с директором." Viktor bowed in return.
"С этим не будет проблемы. Директор ожидает Вас." The Master of the Elevators tapped his staff on the non-existent floor twice and drew a perfect square from which a blue, glowing, semi-transparent cabin emerged. He gestured to Viktor to step in and closed the door, encasing Viktor completely in blue light. With another tap of his staff, Viktor was whisked away, first to the left, and then up. From the inside, Viktor had a full view of the hills and forests around Durmstrang, which made the trip rather pleasant and over way too quickly for his liking. The Elevator disappeared around him as he arrived at the Headmaster's offices, where he was received by the Headmaster's assistant: a young house Elf clad in a smart shirt, a bow tie with polka dots, and a fez. He was led through three pairs of doors: the outermost leading to the opulent reception room, the second to the Headmaster's vast personal library, and the third and final one leading to his office. Viktor could not help but smile as he imagined Hermione being there with him. Would she walk through the library with her amber eyes sparkling with awe, trying very hard not to look at the volumes hidden in the back shelves? Would she not even bother to hide her fascination and ask endless questions about each section? Maybe she would leave all social decorum to the side and would have to be pried loose from the bookshelves with a lever. Headmaster Inan did like to show off, he often invited scholars and authors for book readings, philosophical and historical discussions, or just for his library and newly acquired magical rarities to be admired. Hermione had not yet been invited, though, as she was rather new in the magical academic community. Viktor had thought of putting a word in for her, but had been terrified that she would find out. He did not fancy sleeping in the dog house, and he also liked his testicles right where they were.
"Viktor, kardeşim! Hoşgeldin, nasılsın?" The Turkish wizard greeted him with a firm handshake and kisses on both cheeks.
"Iyiyim, sen nasılsınız?" Viktor had tried to learn a bit of Turkish for his old teacher and a few other Turkish friends that he had, but it was insanely difficult.
"Iyiyim, iyiyim." He gave Viktor a few pats on the back and mercifully switched to Bulgarian. "Where would you like to sit?" Viktor knew the answer that the Headmaster was hoping for, unfortunately, it was not the answer that he wanted to give. Headmaster Inan was a bit of an orientalist. In addition to the comfortable leather chairs in front of his massive walnut desk, he had a sitting corner decorated with a silk Afghan carpet, ornate cushions and a low, round copper table embossed with intricate patterns. A tapestry illustrating the hunt of an enormous magic-devouring Black Bear hung on the wall, and an antique water pipe stood tall in the corner. It all looked very exotic and cosy, and he imagined it would also be very comfortable if one were as tall as the Headmaster (who was maybe a few fingers taller than Hermione), but Viktor didn't like sitting on the floor for a long time. He just never knew what to do with his long legs.
"Here is fine," he replied, holding the back of a leather armchair.
"Sure, sure, take a seat." the Headmaster laughed, putting a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "You want coffee, right?" Viktor nodded.
"Was that a "yes" nod, or a "no" nod?"
It was Viktor's turn to laugh. "Sorry, it was a "yes" nod." He shook his head from side to side. "I had to adapt to the common European gestures. If I shake my head, people assume that I mean no."
"Yes, yes, the perks of working in an international environment. It is the same here, of course. Still, we should not forget who we are." The Headmaster moved to his coffee corner and summoned a jar of coffee, a small conical coffee pot and a pot of sugar, along with two tiny cups and saucers which Viktor recognized by the strikingly vibrant red and turquoise patterns to be Nycean porcelain. In the middle of the coffee table was a small pewter brazier with claw legs atop a marble slab, already filled with embers under a stasis charm. Viktor watched as his former professor measured two cups of water into the coffee pot, added two heaping teaspoons of coffee powder and stirred. "Sugar?" Viktor shook his head, and they both laughed. "How much?"
"Medium." The Headmaster added a sugar cube and placed the coffee pot over the embers till it was frothy and almost boiling over. He spooned some froth into each cup before slowly adding the rest of the coffee. With an exaggerated flourish of his wand, he summoned two small coffee tables beside each armchair. He filled two small crystal tumblers with water, two tulip-shaped liquor glasses with peppermint liquor and two small crystal bowls with pistachio-filled Turkish delights. Only Turkish people would make such a fuss about coffee, thought Viktor, chuckling inwardly at the Headmaster's antics. It was good coffee though, small, hot and strong, just how Viktor liked it. A glass of water was necessary with strong coffee. The rest was… a bit superfluous. Still, he appreciated hospitality when he received it.
He sipped his coffee, and for a while, they idly chattered about this and that, the weather and the water of the Green River, exams and new school projects. The Headmaster inquired amiably about his parents and old school friends. Bloody Turkish hospitality. Viktor knew that the Headmaster would not start interrogating his guest, and wait for him to state the purpose of his visit instead. It was however also discourteous to go straight to business without the preamble of polite conversation. Not that Viktor didn't like it, but the folder with the pictures of the odd triangle was burning a hole into his briefcase.
"Now that the wizarding schools in Europe are trying to uniformize their syllabi, I have been in contact with Headmaster Snape quite regularly. A remarkable man and a respectable wizard, indeed. The efforts of your Miss Granger however are legendary. She is a force of nature. I have been intending to invite her to the next book reading, you know? Moldiyar Yergebekov from Kazakhstan will be visiting us to introduce his new book on quantum field theory and its parallels with theoretical magic. Miss Granger is also conducting research in this field, she even has a degree in physics from a non-wizarding university, right? Her Charms thesis on the topic shook the academic world. Since then, she has published some fascinating work on theoretical magic. I don't understand all of it, I have to admit, it is too far out of my area of expertise. Still I appreciate innovation when I see it. Her presence here could spark a most interesting discourse."
This was Viktor's cue. Subtly, he steered the conversation to his investigation. "I am sure she would be delighted to be invited. When I visited her recently, asking for assistance in my case, she was in the middle of the exams period and hardly had time for research. I believe she will have more time to indulge in her private endeavours in a week or so."
"Yes, yes, of course, the life of a teacher... I do miss it sometimes, you know, my work nowadays is mainly administrative. Is it the same case as the one for which you needed my assistance?"
"It is. We have a piece of evidence that we cannot view directly, for which Hermione suggested a non-wizarding imaging technique." Viktor removed the folder with the printouts. "I am sure you will see why I sought you out."
"Let me see…" The Headmaster glanced at the photos and frowned. He then moved from the guest armchair to his desk, spreading the photos out and examining them with a magnifying glass, still frowning. Viktor guessed that he was trying to make out what the scribbles were and failing. After a few minutes he laid his magnifying glass to the side, leaned back on his majestic chair and closed his eyes, still not saying anything. A few more minutes later, Viktor started to worry.
"You came here because you have seen something similar in my office, right?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what it is?"
"I don't."
The Headmaster stood up and led Viktor to one of his glass cabinets filled with invaluable artefacts. He removed a triangular leather bundle. It was slightly thicker in the middle and attached to a leather string at two corners as if it was meant to be worn around the neck.
"Magic, Viktor, has existed long before our many-layered wands, precise charms and groundbreaking potions. In its earliest days, magic came to people at night when they looked at the stars and asked themselves the meaning of their existence in the material world. It came to them as the possibility of a world beyond this world, as prophecies in their dreams, as wishes to keep themselves and their loved ones safe. Tens of thousands of years ago in the Fertile Crescent, as our ancestors were just beginning to cultivate grains and domesticate animals, they already knew that some among them could channel certain wishes and intents into tangible objects and make them last. Even before alphabets or writing were invented, they would draw their spells on leather or clay, and wear them. This is what it is. It is called a Tomar, or later a Muska. This particular one is more than six thousand years old. Inside is a spell to ensure that the babies born to a certain woman would be beautiful. It is inscribed on a piece of leather and folded around the tooth of a female wolf." Viktor was humbled by such ancient magic.
"Not all of them worked, of course, and not necessarily because they were made by charlatans. Magic like this is highly unpredictable, irreproducible and hard to control. It also differs from our magic in that it is highly personalized; most of the time they are made by one person for another person and that person only."
"How do you make something like this? This was certainly not in the Durmstrang curriculum."
The Headmaster laughed. "No, it wasn't. We don't really know. Some scripts we can barely decipher, most of them we can't at all. The accounts of such talismans being made were written down long after the practice of making them was ancient history, and they are not reproducible. I did teach you other things, however. You will probably remember this one." He returned the leather triangle to its place and retrieved a wooden box. Inside was a thin piece of metal with faded writing scratched on it, and holes where it had been pierced, possibly by a nail.
"This is a Katadesmos." Viktor recognized the Curse Tablet but had never seen one outside a book, maybe one in a wizarding museum before.
"It is, this is the ancient Greek counterpart of the Tomar, much later of course. This one is about two thousand years old. They would write the curse on a thin lead sheet, roll it, pierce it with nails and bury it, sometimes in a grave, sometimes under a sacred tree. This kind of curse is the worst. Unless you can find the Tablet, you are doomed. Sometimes formulations were vague, so not only one person but entire bloodlines or even irrelevant people were cursed. We of course do not know how often they completely failed, such things are not recorded. Making of these is not practised any more, we have moved on to more precise, effective methods. Still, some people wear amulets to protect themselves against such malicious intent. Most of it is superstition, of course."
Viktor was very confused. This was all very fascinating, but also very vague. Why was there an ancient artefact in the middle of a non-wizarding warehouse?
"Which brings us to your challenge…" The Headmaster locked his cabinet. "You said your evidence is locked in a box, and we should not open it."
"Yes, the charm I wrote to you about."
"Sure, sure. We should have Master Salonen look into it once the exams are over. I am sure your Miss Granger is also highly interested, maybe we could invite her here, and they could work together. How is her Russian these days?"
"Not great." Viktor didn't want to say non-existent.
"I am sure two Charms Masters will find ways to communicate." The Headmaster took a seat behind his desk, and Viktor sat in his armchair.
"I have just told you that such magic has gone out of knowledge and is not practised any more. It seems like I am wrong. The little toy in your box is not ancient. It is possibly quite new."
"How did you deduce that?"
The Headmaster chuckled. "The words written on it are in modern English."
Viktor's eyebrows shot upwards. He had spent an entire day staring at those pictures, trying to make out something, anything, without success. How had the Headmaster managed to read them? The Headmaster invited him to join him behind the desk and summoned a rolled-up scroll. He handed Viktor his magnifying glass and gestured to him to inspect the scroll under it. The scroll spread open under the magnifying glass as Viktor moved it up and down. He moved a hand over the scroll, it was still tightly rolled, yet Viktor could read it clearly. The Headmaster was smiling smugly.
"I occasionally get scrolls that are too brittle to handle, or a Tomar like the one that you had in your hand which is too precious to unpack. This handy little thing enables me to view them."
Pretty fucking clever, thought Viktor. Also perfect for reading people's correspondence without anyone noticing. He hoped that George Weasley would never get his hands on this one, he would undoubtedly find a way to replicate it.
"Does it work on the pictures as well?"
"Why don't you see for yourself?" Viktor moved the magnifying glass over the printouts. It did not affect the cross-sections whatsoever. The three-dimensional reconstruction however unravelled partly.
"Please... me… nev...something. Sep…arate?" The picture would not unravel more. Fuck.
"It doesn't work quite as well as it does on the actual object, but it is a start. The person who made this is either a very powerful wizard who has unearthed the ancient art of Tomar scribes or superstitious and wanted to have something with him to make him feel safe. These were, after all, mostly made for protection from something. In any case, he must be very knowledgeable in historical magic."
Viktor did not doubt that his evidence was a genuine magical artefact, otherwise, why bother concealing it under such a powerful distraction charm? Not to mention that it had come unscathed out of a powerful explosion that had blown its wearer into bits. Protection…
Yes. He knew what it could be. He just needed to test his theory, but how?
"Viktor?"
"Sorry, a lot of information to process."
"Of course, I understand. When did you acquire this evidence?"
"Sunday evening."
"Today is Thursday, it is still early days. Maybe, it will wear off on its own. The charm, I mean." Viktor smiled sadly. He had never ever been that lucky.
"Before I leave, may I have permission to draw water from the river?"
The Headmaster laughed heartily. "Is it for your dear mother? Tell her she is pretty enough, she doesn't need all those potions." The Headmaster knew his family very well and shamelessly flirted with his mother. Then again, so did many others.
"No," said Viktor, laughing, and lying only a little. "It is for the Elves, I promised them."
"Sure, sure, just joking. How much do you need?" He took a sugar cube from his coffee corner.
"One litre should be enough. They can never have enough, but it will have to do." The Headmaster held the sugar cube in his left hand, murmured something in Turkish while waving his wand like flowing water. He handed the cube to Viktor. As he prepared to take leave, the Headmaster signed him to stop.
" I have one more thing for you." He retrieved a round glass bauble from a drawer behind his desk. It was blue, about the size of a human eye, and had a black dot in the middle. It was bound to a safety pin with a small red ribbon. The Headmaster reached to attach it to his right shoulder above the shoulder blade. Viktor flinched a little when he felt the pin pierce the buttery leather of his favourite coat.
"It is a nazar bon…" Viktor didn't get the last word and waited for the Headmaster to elaborate.
"You are a handsome man, Viktor. Handsome, successful, rich, beautiful girlfriend. People are jealous, they talk. This will protect you from evil eyes and malicious intent."
Viktor didn't bother to give a speech on how he was not scared of gossip or jealousy. Still, he was intrigued. "But this is not magic..."
"Of course it is magic." He received two pats between his shoulder blades. "There are all kinds of magic. All of them begin with intent." Viktor resisted rolling his eyes and received the present graciously.
Having said their goodbyes, the Headmaster summoned him an Elevator which delivered him to the Durmstrang gates. Before he crossed the bridge, Viktor took an empty leather canteen from his briefcase and kneeled before the Green River, whose waters shimmered emerald in the low afternoon sun. The archaeon Chlorarchaeum inopinatum, which grew abundantly in its waters, gave the river its iridescent green colour. It also had secondary metabolites which were hallucinogenic in small quantities and lethal in large. The toxicity would of course never be enough to stop a school full of teenagers from experimenting, therefore, drawing water from the river was only possible upon permission from the Headmaster or the Potions Masters. Viktor threw the sugar cube into the river. As it disappeared, a stream of water flew from the river towards him, which he directed into his canteen with his wand. The house Elves that worked for his family loved getting tipsy on it, and his mother added a drop or two to her pore-cleansing skin tonic when she got her hands on some (or at least that's what she said she was doing with it, Viktor didn't question further). When the flow stopped, he stoppered his flask, crossed the river, and turned back to watch the bridge immaterialize before he stepped through the dimension portal. Armed with new knowledge and a theory that begged to be tested, he Apparated to the Sofia ITF Headquarters.
First of all, thanks for the favs&follows! Until now, I have been trying to get the plot rolling, but this chapter is rather heavy on intercultural exchange, world building, and exposition. I have never done much of these before, so I would be grateful for feedback.
This chapter again contains some foreign text. The reaction on this from the first chapter has been mixed, but I decided to keep it in the text rather than just writing "..., said he in Russian", because I think it contributes to the atmosphere. Still, let me know what you think. Translations are below.
"Добро пожаловать в родную Альма-матер, Виктор Григорьев Крумов. Сообщите цель вашего визита?" : "Welcome to your home Alma Mater, Viktor Grigoriev Krumov. What is the purpose of your visit?"
"Приветствую Вас, Управляющий Лифтами. Я прошу аудиенции с директором." : "Greetings, Elevator Master. I request an audience with the Director."
"С этим не будет проблемы. Директор ожидает Вас.": This won't be a problem. The Headmaster awaits you.
"Viktor, kardeşim! Hoşgeldin, nasılsın?" : Viktor, my brother, welcome, how are you?
"Iyiyim, sen nasılsınız?" : Fine thanks, and you? (Grammatically incorrect, Viktor doesn't really speak Turkish)
"Iyiyim, iyiyim.": Fine, fine.