9:15pm
Thurs, 22 October 2009
North Tower

"This way.  It's not far." 

Ylva Maras was leading her colleague Atash Hendurabi through Hogwarts castle to a room in the North Tower she'd used once before.  But it was no easy task navigating this ancient, magical castle.  The rumors that the staircases moved had been confirmed as true, and that the paintings weren't often the best at giving directions.  At least Ylva had been here a month or two now, but Atash - the poor man - he must be still be hitting dead ends in the third floor corridors.

"Here."

They'd reached a landing and set back into the wall was a small arched doorway.  Ylva Maras unlocked it with a spell and went inside.  When Atash had come through, she shut and locked the door behind them.

The room must have once been a parlor, or perhaps in better weather a kind of solarium, but now the room was mostly forgotten.  A whole third of the curving tower walls of the room was an open arcade to a balcony.  The only affects in were a table and chairs set on rug in the middle of the half-crescent room.  Otherwise, the chill night winds  blew the heavy curtains around the balcony this way and that, creating the ominous chilly flavor that so inspired a traditional witch like Maras.

"We won't be bothered.  Hopefully."

They were all pulling double and triple duties here, the Durmstrang staff.  Not only were they teaching courses, but often to students without Durmstrang's particular rigors trussing up their fundamentals.  There was also training of the Champions, and all the preparations to ensure that Durmstrang ended up faring the best possible.  Eisenberg did not have to say that he expected nothing short of perfection.  They all knew it and would make every effort to meet it. 

And that was why Maras had to meet with Hendurabi tonight - get him on board.

"So you've finally arrived.  How was Durmstrang when you left?"

"Temperate," Atash said mildly, clasping his hands behind his back as he regarded the space before them.

Leave it to Professor Maras to find the most Durmstrang-like corner of Hogwarts Castle.  His eyes shifted curiously over the half-crescent room, silently taking its measure.  It was far colder than he would have liked with those open windows, but that was not something that he would ever comment upon; a chill was easily bourn.  At the very least, this felt more comfortable and far less intrusive than the cheery atmosphere and forced social engagement of the Hogwarts staff room.

He returned his attention back to the other professor, giving her a respectful nod as he shifted to cross his arms.  "The Deputy Headmaster has everything well under control."  As was expected -- he gave a neatly elegant shrug.  "The students are settling.  There are some good lessons being learned," he added, allowing the barest trace of a smile.  "Perhaps the school will be stronger for it, once all of this is done."

He found the whole situation at Durmstrang to potentially be one of the more interesting parts of this whole grand experiment.  No one doubted that the promising students who came to Scotland would give a strong showing at the Tournament.  For the Oberteil, there was no other option.  What had been questionable was how the departure of Durmstrang's upper echelon would affect those remaining.  The Dregs and the lingering Zufreiden, so used to the established social strata, had suddenly found themselves without masters or role models.  Some of the less trustful professors had questioned whether there would be any excellence remaining at all at Durmstrang; whether this school year would be a waste without the upper echelon present to enforce the structure.  It had been...pleasant to see that those doubts had been unfounded so far.

But that was not what they had come to discuss.  He glanced back at Maras, arching an eyebrow.

"It sounds as though Miss Eisenberg, Miss Savitskaya, and Miss Alkaev have done as expected under your guidance, and that of Professor Elliot," he said politely.  That was one of the things he found most refreshing about Durmstrang's culture: there was no need for compliments, no needless acclamation.  With the Oberteil and the school staff alike, mere competence was a disappointment.  Excellence was assumed.  "How have you found Hogwarts?"

The older witch was used to setting the agenda, and she noticed Hendurabi's acquiesence to the terms and details of their meeting.  It was less tea-time and more strategic... palaver.  An important moment for Ylva to engage with Atash and continue to build a strong team for Durmstrang.

She paused in her pacing to lean very lightly against one of the arcade pillars, her back to the inky night behind her.  Some bits of curly hair had escaped its restraint and was moving softly in the wind, the starlight reflecting off her silver eyepatch.  She was more at ease than in any other circumstance to be firmly within the bounds of heirarchy and the Durmstrang order.  She knew exactly how to regard Professor Hendurabi, exactly her role here at Hogwarts.  In that rigid structure, she was free.

And she knew exactly what Atash meant when he said: "Perhaps the school will be stronger for it, once all of this is done."  She knew exactly that he was referring to the void left by the competing Obertiel.  She'd conversed by letter with her fellow Tangibles professors and the reports coming back were strong.  The Zufreiden were stepping up.  And a couple of Obertiel who'd stayed behind to pursue very important apprenticeships had even invited a few into their ranks.  Good.  After all, even the Zufreiden were still sons and daughters of Durmstrang, worthy of their place at the school.

But yes - onto talk of the Tournament.  Her smile was free and proud when Atash spoke of the three witches who'd handily handled the bramble labyrinth and capture their boxes.  It couldn't have gone better. 

"I will admit, this place is confusing in more ways than one," she said, no call to be diplomatic before Professor Hendurabi.  "And I'm not talking about these staircases.  I was expecting a dearth in the fundamentals of the Runes students, but I was not prepared for the lack of respect.  You can't well blame the students - apparently this sort of thing is encouraged.  Every little thing is grounds for a discussion.  How they get anything done..." she said.  Mostly she was referring to the Salem students, but the Hogwarts students had shown a similar looseness that Maras had found disruptive. 

"I will say, though.  That Professor Reid is top notch.  My counterpart here.  She's impeccable."  Again, Maras's smile was plain.  She'd developed a strong professional fondness for the blonde witch she worked with each day. 

He raised his eyebrows at Maras's assessment of the foreign students, but did not otherwise comment.  Yes -- he could see that discussion was more encouraged here.  Miss Biladeau-Yukawa and Professor Sandusky had been evidence of that.  Even after a year teaching at Durmstrang, his interactions with his fellow professors were still highly professional.  There were many that he respected -- like Ylva Maras -- but he did not often seek them out beyond a collegiate realm.  Here at Hogwarts, socializing seemed to be much more expected, and it was easy to see how that might carry over to the students as well.

But the last bit -- his mouth twitched at the assessment.  Top notch.  Impeccable.

"That is high praise," he remarked, giving her a faint smile in return.  From Maras, it was.  'Top notch' might be expected at an institution of Hogwarts quality, but 'Impeccable' -- he doubted she'd apply the phrase to many, if any, of her Durmstrang colleagues.

"The Hogwarts staff that I have met today have been very --"  He paused, visibly searching for the proper English word.  "Friendly," he said at last, glancing at her.  It wasn't quite accurate to the sentiment that he intended to express, but it was close enough.  "Very willing to share.  They seem very proud of their school."  And not so suspicious as they might be -- although with Gerard Gries present, he had no doubt that Beauxbatons would more than make up for any lack of suspicion on Hogwarts' part.

"They did mention," he remarked in a bland voice, as though it were a fact of no particular interest, "that there was a...conflict between Hogwarts students earlier this week."  Hufflepuffs and members of a particular club, the counselor had said.  He was idly curious as to what sort of club could anger a group of students who prided themselves on steadfast loyalty -- but then, he shouldn't be so quick as to stereotype.  At least Durmstrang grouped its students based on ability and provided for mobility, versus labeling an individual forever after one simple judgement made by a talking hat when they were twelve.  "I was very glad to hear that the Durmstrangen have been conducting themselves as one would expect, in contrast."

"Yes," Ylva said with a little smirk.  "I saw it.  How embarrassing.  They were fighting about a werewolf student I am told."

She paced again.  Even at a growing late hour, she wasn't tired.  There was a lot on her mind and the brisk night wind seemed to steel her against sleepiness or boredom.  She was glad Atash had arrived - another Durmstrang professor here would help.

After a sufficient pause, Ylva changed gears.  "As you know, the Tournament rules stipulate that the champions are on their own.  No outside help when it comes to their tasks."  She shrugged.  It made sense.  It had always been that way, and or good reason.  But there was too much riding on the outcome of an event like this than to just leave it to chance, leave it to teenagers to study and prepare on their own.

"There's nothing against preparation and training, of course.  Have you seen the boxes won from the first task?  They each recovered a small sealed box from the Acromantula's clutches.  Ha, well, nearly all the champions at least.  One of the Beauxbatons boys did not."  It was sad, really.

"Now, the Second Task is due to be announced this weekend, but from what I have been able to find out... there's no word on what the second task will be.  At all."

This was... unusual.  Although it wasn't strictly allowed, it was possible to glean information slightly ahead of time.  No matter how incomplete, it was still useful.  But this time, the Durmstrang staff had gotten nothing back from their sources. 

"So all appears to lie in those boxes."

Atash could not help but give a grim smile at the word of Beauxbatons' failure.  One of Gries's students, no doubt.  Not that it was personal -- …but this was a competition, and as relatively new and straightforward as his loyalty to Durmstrang might be, it was perfectly acceptable to feel satisfied when the other schools showed deficiency.  It didn't need to be personal.  The Durmstragen would doubtlessly be victorious in the end.

He listened intently as Maras relayed the rest of the present circumstances.  All of the Durmstrang staff knew that the rules, that there was to be no official help -- but they also knew what else was expected of them.  Much would be said publicly about the importance of cultural exchange and goodwill, but they were here to make sure that the northern school won.

"Surely there is someone who must know more."  He frowned, though his expression was far more thoughtful now. Some hint, something…

"All of the past Tasks have always taken place at the hosting school, correct?" he asked, glancing to her for confirmation.  The idea of this TetraWizard Tournament was relatively new to him; Gondishapur had never competed, and so most of what he knew had been very quickly acquired in the past few months.  But he was a fast learner, and once word had come that the Tournament would return once more, he had studied.  "If they are…constructing something, creating something, bringing creatures in again, there will eventually be signs."

Which meant watching for off-limit areas, for comments let slip by the Hogwarts staff.  The Care of Magical Creatures professor might be an interesting one to get to know.  Outside contacts could also be useful.  He was already doing one favor for Josephine St. Just -- perhaps he could call on the Cursebreaker to return it by slipping mention of any unusual banking activity on Hogwarts' part.  And wasn't there at least one Durmstrang graduate employed by the British Ministry's International Cooperation department?

He ran a hand over his face, still looking pensive, and then returned his gaze to Maras.  "The preparation and training goes without saying," he said mildly.  That was why he was here, but it was only a part of it.  "You were at Durmstrang during the last Tournament, yes, Professor?  Is there…more that you would advise we watch?"  He smiled suddenly, the expression wry and genuine.  "I assume we are taking the Headmaster at his word that the entrance of four schools this time was intentional, and not a sign that we should be on guard against some sort of rising Dark Lord."

Maras frowned and shook her head.

"My presence was required at Durmstrang that year," she said with a touch of bitterness.  "Karkaroff made sure of that."  The former Headmaster of Durmstrang had never liked her, and the feeling had been mutual.  Maras found his methods to have been harsh - even for Durmstrang - and the way he favored Krum (a dullard and a thug, in her opinion) had sold Durmstrang short.  But there had been many differences of opinion, and only a choice few who supported Karkaroff went with him to Scotland. 

"But of course, in those days, there was no convention of wizarding culture and exchange.  It was pure competition, then."

Maras herself had no comment about the disaster of the one called Lord Voldemort's gruesome return, and how it had developed into the historic saga of The Boy Who Lived, a marked event for not only Britain, but its neighbors in Europe as well.  Durmstrang had certainly had to work to recover its reputation in those years. 

"I have spoken to one of the Ministry officials," she said, "but there seems to be no activity concerning permits for creatures, or any construction yet to be seen on the grounds.  Highly unusual - all the events of '94 took place on the grounds.  Dragons, the first, merfolk second, and a sphinx for the third..."

"We shall have to look elsewhere for information."  It was paramount Durmstrang be as prepared as possible, and take every opportunity.  But without a hint at the content, any tutoring or preparations she or the Spellworks instructor could provide could end up to be superfluous or irrelevant. 

Unhappy that they both knew nothing, she took a seat the table near him and crossed her leg over the other in a pose of relaxation. 

"What's around that next corner..." she mused lightly.

The mage settled back across the wall, looking pensive as he directed his gaze toward the windows. 

"If we do not know what is coming next, it is likely that the other schools are similarly blinded," he said thoughtfully.  "So at least there is that.  But Hogwarts has the home advantage, and I would hate to stake our chances on the others remaining entirely in the dark."

Hogwarts was another concern.  Supposedly the natural advantage of the hosting institution would be negated by hand selecting potential champions -- but in this Tournament, with so many students competing for each school, it did not necessarily translate.  Neither did he like to rely entirely on the chance that the other delegations were more incompetent.  The Durmstrang staff had never planned to break the rules, but it was understood that they would seize what opportunities they could.  From what he had been able to gather, cheating had always been an unspoken rule of the Triwizard Tournament.

But there were other ways to create helpful disparity.  The Durmstrangen were not only highly skilled and more aptly able; they were undoubtedly of singular focus.  They knew their purpose here, and little would distract them from it.  If there were a way to use that in their favor...to increase that advantage even more by aiding a distraction...

"There is a proverb," he said musingly, glancing sidelong at Maras.  "Be a lion at home but a fox abroad.  You mentioned that the students here are partial to discussion?"

Maras sighed and swore in her mother tongue.  She touched her brow with her fingertips and then flung them away, as if expelling an unwanted memory. 

"They are insufferably opinionated," she confirmed with feeling.  "Salem in particular.  They are easily side-tracked by irrelevant matters of ethics or fairness, and if they had their way all study would cease until a democratic consensus was reached about the nature and execution of the assignment."

"Hogwarts is quick to ally with their nonsense, some of them.  I won't say that Durmstrang lacks verbosity - Faust - but at least he productive...But I get your meaning."  She glanced back at Atash.  So characteristically clever of him to make such a potentially useful observation...

"Could Hogwarts and Salem be distracted?  Considering how a discussion over rune diagramming stirs up their humors, I can't think it would be difficult at all.  Just an once of injustice or imbalance would be all they'd need."

The talk of opinions, debate, and democracy made the Salem students sound insufferably American.  He was not particularly surprised -- but even so, that lack of focus might work in Durmstrang's favor.  The Hogwarts students did not seem overly dedicated to the challenges of the Tournament, either. And with Beauxbatons already behind on points -- perhaps it would give them the opportunity to solidify their standing after the Second Task.

"Well," he said mildly, "it would be a shame if an imbalance were to present itself.  I am certain that we would all hate for any of the schools to be competing at less than their best."

The challenge would be coming up with an injustice that couldn't be directly traced back to Durmstrang.  It was one thing to set off the students -- it would be another to give them a reason to unite against a perceived antagonist.  But there were ways to cause wheels to start turning anonymously.  Perhaps even tie them to Gries and Beauxbatons -- that in itself could be a coup.

But it was getting late, and that sort of complicated planning was better left until morning.

"Forgive me," said Atash, giving his colleague a respectful nod.  "But I think I will need to retire for the evening soon.  It has been a long day."  He gave the Runes professor a faint, conspiratorial smile.  "But I will continue to listen for any information that might be useful.  I would hate to prove as easily distracted as our American and British friends."

Ylva rose when Atash made his motions to go.   Without any good information about how to prepare Durmstrang for the next task, the notion of a distraction for Hogwarts and Salem would provide ample dream-fodder for Ylva in the nights and days ahead.  She was nothing if not singular of purpose. 

It was a strange thing, this game.  The rules were actually quite few in the letter, and the rest of the order seemed to rely on assumptions and what the different parties were willing to sacrifice, how far they were willing to go.   It was difficult to take it seriously, in some respects, but impossible to let it slip by like some silly school game.  If it was worth doing, it was worth winning. 

Atash had been coy about setting up and imbalance, but Ylva had no such reservations.  The imbalance was already there - Salem and Hogwarts' own sense of moral superiority and lack of discipline.  It was fair game to exploit it.

"Good night, Professor.  Until tomorrow."