Chapter 3
The Goblet spat fire.
"The Champion of Beauxbaton is Marie Montbeillard!"
"The Champion of Hogwarts is Abraxas Malefoix!"
"Malfoy!" wounded Brax corrected indignantly. The Gryffindors gloated.
"The Champion of Durmstrang is Jacob Schlemiel!"
"What?" Harry asked flabbergasted and immediately faked a cough.
It looked like everyone from Durmstrang shared his emotions. The girl in scarlet robes rose, threw her napkin on the table and majestically walked toward the doors. The boy who looked decidedly like a Cossack sang mockingly watching her exit, Ти ж мене пiдманула, ти ж мене пiдвела (**). Harry cursed his translator yet again. The girl with black braids laughed merrily. The redhead geek sidled from the table and entered the room after Montbelliard and Malfoy constantly glancing over his shoulder. Several students jumped on their feet and started shouting something to Albena. Harry perked his ears and made out You set it all up! Headmaster of Beauxbatons tugged Potter's sleeve, and Harry had to leave this highly entertaining conversation behind.
Several hours later he went to the gardens. His thoughts were in disarray. From the day he saw the name of Snape's daughter on the Durmstrang list he was certain that she would be the Champion. It was so... natural!
He stumbled upon the subject of his reflections under a pine tree. She was sitting on a bench and was sorting some white discs.
"Good evening, miss. Did you find a treasure-trove?" Harry asked and cringed on the inside.
Albena didn't even smile.
"No, I won a bet. I was sure that the Cup would choose Jacob, and I was right. Why people are so stupid?"
"That is the question every teacher asks himself sooner or later," Harry said and sat beside her. "Were your friends angry because they lost a bet?"
Albena sighed.
"They were angry because they lost a bet, because the Cup didn't choose them, because the Cup chose Jacob... And now they accuse me of foul play. If only they used their brain..."
"It's hard to believe that someone could predict the choice of the Cup," Harry remarked cautiously. If she arranged not her own participation, but someone else's... At this point his imagination gave up.
"It's not. My father says when you are dealing with higher powers you should rely not on their fairness, but on their sense of humour. In all fairness four people had a chance to become the Champion: Vlada, Jaroslav, Gavlichek and I. The rest thought so too. And I imagined the silliest alternative possible and bet on it. Now these idiots claim that I charmed the Cup!"
"Your father..." Harry started carefully not knowing how the end the sentence. Everything he heard now didn't correspond with Snape he knew.
"He's terribly smart, isn't he?" Albena said with pride. She fetched a photo album out of thin air and opened it right away. "That's my parents' wedding." Snape with displeased expression held a hand of a bespectacled moth wrapped in white. "That's tiny me. Isn't it a funny picture?" Snape with the same expression was holding a wailing baby. "That was taken when he returned from the war, and I didn't recognize him." Snape in robes with strange insignia was holding a crying two-year-old.
"What war?" Harry asked wanting to tear those pictures to pieces.
"Transylvanian war, of course. He got a medal." Snape with displeased expression was receiving a shiny star from the hands of a tall wizard with white beard. "That's him reporting in the Ministry when the Werewolves law was ratified." Snape was giving a bunch of wizards a piece of his mind. "That's him at the hospital." Snape was giving a bunch of mediwizards a piece of his mind. "That was taken for the newspaper last year." It looked like Snape was giving the photographer a piece of his mind.
"There you are!" A very tidy young man with hair sleeked back appeared on the path. "Good evening, Headmaster. Albena, why should everyone be waiting for you?"
"Because I'm unique," she answered calmly. "Headmaster, this is Piotr Gavlichek, he's a schlep. It was nice talking to you. Bye!"
Harry went to Hogwarts express lost in thought. In the train Slytherins were demurely celebrating their triumph, Gryffindors were upset over their defeat, Hufflepuffs were trying to decide which party to join while Ravenclaws were reading in their compartment. The whole train was rocking. Harry caught excited and red-faced Brax by the sleeve and asked, "Do you have a picture of your father with you?"
"Do you miss him already?" Malfoy asked cheekily. "Excuse me, sir, I meant to say that I don't even carry pictures of my girlfriends even though I constantly forget what they look like... Excuse me, sir!"
"Firewhiskey," Harry observed.
"How could you, it's calvados!"
"In this case see you in the morning."
Malfoy said something to his retreating back, then added, "Excuse me!", but Harry didn't pay attention.
X X X
The whole next week he spent doing very important and tedious task of arranging the classes timetable. He made arrangements with the headmistress of Durmstrang that he'll teach Potions, DADA, Transfigurations and Arithmancy to her English-speaking students. In return she'll teach Numerology, Divination and Muggle studies to Hogwarts students (apparently using sign language). Beauxbatons professors took care of Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures.
During this week Harry decided that headmistress of Durmstrang was a very strange woman. She always kept three lit candles on the table. She repeated that Vlada Tepes was a countess fourteen times, but failed to mention that Jaroslav Volkov was a werewolf. She talked in five languages at once so the omni-purpose translator beeped and started translating with a Scottish accent. Finally she smoked a pipe.
At the end of the week Harry looked into her schedule and found out that History of Magic wasn't there. The headmistress waved her hand and said that only Piotr Gavlichek studied it, and he was (he obviously wanted to say "shlep", but decided against it) capable of working on his own. Moreover the seven-year students study contemporary history, everyone knows it anyway...
Harry was getting ready for the first Potions class with a shudder. Albena Snapova will be present at all his classes. She sat in the front row (Jacob Shlemiel sidled humbly alongside), opened the book and started reading. Behind her Brax Malfoy tried to cue Rosa's red hair, she giggled and elbowed him. At the back of the class August Rosen who had blond hair and long nose tried to convince Sophonisba Fletcher that her name couldn't be Baby.
Harry tapped his pointer and darkly thought that with each passing year he understood Snape better and better. He gave an overview of lunar influence over potions making, then asked the class to brew "something interesting" corresponding with the current phase of lunar cycle. Harry walked around. He stopped near the first-row desk and listened to his heartbeat for thirty seconds. The open book was covered with notes in angular niggling handwriting.
"My Dad wrote that," Albena said without turning from the cutting board where she was chopping some herbs. "He thinks school books are worthless."
It occurred to Harry that he would like to know one thing Snape approved of. He gave up the idea of hearing his praise of people long time ago. Mentions of the school book gave him an idea. After the classes he caught Piotr Gavlichek in the corridor and asked for the book on the History of Magic. He put the omni-purpose translator on the index page and said Traducio. Letters flickered, moved and formed familiar English words. Revolution of 1918, Constituting the Federation, Petkevich's Reforms, Black Partition... Ah, here it is, Transylvanian War, page 115.
The beginning of the war. In 2002 after the death of Count Alexander Tepes there was a dynastic dispute. There were two claimants to the Count's title: underage Countess Vlada and descendant of the female line Milan Dragulescu. Wishing to confirm his right for the inheritance Dragulescu opened the doors of the tomb thus violating all agreements of 1871. He died the same day while Count Dracula acknowledged Countess Vlada's claim.
The result of opening the tomb's doors was the Transylvanian war.
Slaughter at Beloarishte...
After that Harry browsed through the text without paying much attention. A dead village, approximately five hundred Muggles, acknowledgment of agreements of 1871... He put the book down with disgust.
It looked like... as unpleasant it was to think about it... in this war Snape chose the right side.
Footnotes:
(**) humorous Ukrainian folk song. The text goes along the lines of "You tricked me, you let me down".