"But Headmaster—"
"Enough excuses." The heavy wooden door of the captain's cabin muffled Karkaroff's voice. "You are all seventh years and capable of steering this ship yourselves. There will be no talking yourself out of helm duty, Poliakoff."
The ship lurched, throwing Poliakoff against the closed door.
"But Headmaster, the current is very vild here, ve—"
"You are not at your post, Poliakoff! Go, now!"
There was no point in arguing; Poliakoff left, grumbling. The Headmaster always shut himself up whenever the sea got rough. Lazy bastard.
Outside, the ocean heaved violently.
Inside his cabin, so did Karkaroff.