Karkaroff smiles wryly and smooths down his gift to himself, vaguely wishing for a full-length mirror to better appraise it. The silver furs catch the torchlight, sleek and supple, wrapping snugly around his thin shoulders and falling like a cloak of gleaming snow down his back. His hair is already trying match them.
Straightening, Karkaroff paces a little, trying to get the feel of the furs swishing along with his movements. Doubtless he's paid too much for them, but this one time, he doesn't mind letting it go.
After all, it isn't every day one becomes Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute.