Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.

Dressed in a pinstripe suit with wool overcoat with thick fur collar, the thin, angular form of Durmstrang's bursar-of-sorts stepped gingerly but eagerly onto the drawbridge to the school ship, floating in the lake beside Hogwarts. He hoped his owl had found Auberon in good time before his arrival that morning, wouldn't do for the Headmaster to be away. It wasn't every day a former Headmaster turned up his toes and left 20000 Galleons[1] to the cause in the middle of a Tetra-Wizard Tournament.

Coming aboard the deck, Wolfgang wrestled with the door on the cabin, and headed inside out of the weather which nipped at his ears and gave his face a ruddy colour.

"Headmaster Einsenberg!" He called out inside, his voice authoritative, with an edge of humour, as if the man who called knew he could get away with summoning a Durmstrang Headmaster cheekily like this.

1.	hp lexicon conversion marks this at about £100000 or $201400, which is enough money to invest in a property.

It was a brisk, bright sort of morning and Auberon was, as his schedule dictated, already about halfway through his routine. His breakfast had been released, shot, and was currently being cooked by the ship's crew of elves. Most of the students had chosen to go to the castle, but he liked the ship; there was nothing like wooden floors and doors for stomping about in. Besides, he could shoot at the woods from here, and was always happy to practice his aim.

Thus the arrival of Wolfgang was met with a loud twang and an arrow shaft burying itself into the wood a few feet from the man's head. Auberon stood up from the desk, putting his crossbow down. He'd been shooting at the target he had erected on the wall next to the door, as he often did.

"Sorry about that, my good man! You startled me!" In high spirits this morning, his booming voice filled the cabin and seemed make the windows shake. "Aren't you looking well this morning," he added, rather more curiously. "Good news, is it?"

The bolt embedding itself in the wood just above his head made Wolfgang flinch, but he tried to suppress it. He was a clever wizard, but he wasn't what you'd call a duellist, which is why he chose harsh words over deadly spells to get his point across, and looked after the school's finances rather than taught its pupils how to knock a few heads together.

"Sorry about that, my good man! You startled me!" Auberon's voice boomed, and Wolfgang quickly drew his startled expression into a broad, manly smile - well as much as a weasley looking man with bloodshot eyes could manage. He'd not slept well the night before after all the goings on, arguing with his only son, upsetting his wife, dealing with family business. But there was a positive to that, and that was why he was here.

"Headmaster!" Wolfgang greeted with the same exuberance, like two chummy bankers.

"Aren't you looking well this morning. Good news, is it?"

"Rather." Wolfgang confirmed, adding an air of secrecy to his expression and tone. "Rather good news indeed." He gestured towards a nearby desk, reaching into the coat he wore to withdraw a copy of Merik Storm's will, which he had read to the family two days before at the funeral.

"Merik Storm turned up his toes a few days ago," Wolfgang began to unroll the will, "He was my uncle, you remember? Would have told you sooner, only a lot of family bother to clear up, and it was a quick burial, given the time of year." He waved a hand, as if brushing off the problems, "I took the opportunity to ensure his will was up to date when we saw he was starting to lose grip on reality." Wolfgang tapped his temple as if in illustration of the old man's failing mind, "suggested it to Ignan that it might be good, that it could be the last. He left Durmstrang 20000 Galleons."

Wolfgang handed over the copy of the will to Auberon, eyebrows raised, and pleased-as-pie expression plastered across his features. 

Well, well! The dour man was in high spirits after all. Auberon was now definitely interested, his own mood raised considerably. This would be interesting indeed!

"That is wonderful news," he said as Wolfgang handed him the will. "And you say he's left us 20000 galleons on top of that? Never knew he had it in him, the old bastard." He said it in an oddly blunt but affectionate tone - and affection for the old Headmaster was what he was feeling now, as he looked at the will and could not help but grin.

Auberon had never been fond of Merik Storm - but then, few people had. While the man's son was a considerable improvement - he certainly took after Merik's wife, whatever her name had been - the Storm line was one that left its mark on Durmstrang, for good or ill.

Mind you, they were interesting, which was the mark by which Auberon gauged all of his employees...up until they nearly brought towers down.

He put the paper down, his own expression echoing Wolfgang's. "Don't worry about not informing me sooner - family matters, and that. Do tell me, though; he would not be your uncle without leaving some terrible little strings with which he hopes to trip us. What are the conditions of this golden gift horse, Wolfgang?"

"Never knew he had it in him, the old bastard. "That is wonderful news, and you say he's left us 20000 galleons on top of that? Never knew he had it in him, the old bastard. Don't worry about not informing me sooner - family matters, and that. Do tell me, though; he would not be your uncle without leaving some terrible little strings with which he hopes to trip us. What are the conditions of this golden gift horse, Wolfgang?"

"Well," Wolfgang responded primly, "Being aware of his personal financial situation, it was a combination on inheritance, from the family, and his late wife, which he'd not passed on to either of his children - not that either really need it, both in their sixties. Ignan no children, and his sister's well looked after by the Kollontai line." He shrugged stiffly, "Durmstrang were his children, despite the stories, he had a sentimental heart, what can I say?" Wolfgang's grin was enough to make anyone uncomfortable, and the sarcasm in his voice was telling.

"Conditions were originally to guarantee Ignan's appointment, but he left of his own will last year, conveniently enough. I managed to advise that it would give for legal complications if he were leave it on account of the school winning." Wolfgang folded his arms and smirked, "Not that Durmstrang is having any trouble with it."



Edit: Dear Merlin, severe fail to delete a chunk of quotation from your last post *facepalm*

“Mmm, well, he did treat them rather as his children, didn’t he? Provided you picture him as a bear.” Wolfgang Storm had been a very effective Headmaster, however – no one could fault him for that. The students and teachers had lived in fear of him, the school itself seeming darker with every moment of his presence. The news of the man’s death was good news indeed, but he found himself almost missing the old bastard.

But then, a rather large inheritance did make one fonder of the deceased, did it not?

“What, Ignan as Headmaster?” That’d be the day! Auberon sat back in his chair, the creak loud and audible in the ship cabin. He did grin when Wolfgang echoed his own thoughts; he felt very little risk at staking things on the Tournament, currently, as they’d so far ripped through the competition.

“I suppose Ignan’s seen this will, yes?” He somehow hoped he hadn’t, but it would certainly make things easier if they could simply have him agree to having it legally rewritten. 

“I suppose Ignan’s seen this will, yes?”

"He and Imelda are the next of kin, well, Ignan technically, as the older one. They've seen all the paperwork. Don't worry-" Wolfgang raised a hand, "He's no interest in staking his claim. The words 'couldn't think of anything worse' were uttered." He chuckled, remembering the two cousins the morning before the funeral at the dining table in Merik Storm's house, before it had been emptied.

"I drew up a contract to see that he agreed that the restrictions are no longer necessary." Wolfgang reached inside of his coat inner pocket and unfolded another sheet, "I'll deliver it to him at Hogwarts after I finish here. There will be no problem." The banker's voice was smooth, he was unconcerned.

"I'll see that the funds are paid in as soon as the paperwork is straight, we'll discuss then what you want to invest it in, though," Wolfgang fixed a critical eye of the Headmaster, "at the rate of spending on this Tournament, we'll need it to pay some of the bloody bill, win or no win."  Wolfgang straightened his clothing again, standing slightly and extending his arm to allow Auberon to reach the proffered parchment, and briefly review the wording Ignan would sign.

"If there's any trouble, I'm sure you'll make him see straight, eh, Headmaster." He smiled cruelly, took back the parchment and sat down again.

"Any news on what we might face next? Have your spies returned any news?"

Auberon relaxed a bit, glad of that, at the least. The money would be rather welcome indeed…but not welcome should the price of it be the Headmaster’s seat! Had that been the case and he’d been forced to leave, he’d have had to start a whole host of new problems just to throw Ignan into the full fray that Durmstrang could often be.

“Hmm, good to hear, good to hear,” He said, swinging his legs up onto the desk with a crashing sort of thud. Next to his boots, a stack of papers fell sideways onto the floor with a loud and rustling shuffle.

“Ideally, we’ll be paying the bill on a win, of course,” he agreed, taking the parchment Wolfgang handed him, eyes scanning the wording with that sort of focused swiftness that made him fall silent, lips pursed ever so slightly and his brow creasing. It seemed in order to him, but he was no lawyer or money-man, and that was why they had men like Wolfgang – to handle that bloody business with the paperwork so that real people could get on with the fun part of spending it.

He handed Wolfgang the parchment back, snorting at the man’s wording. “Oh, yes. Trouble with Ignan Storm is hardly new to me, after all.” The man was actually rather simple to deal with, all things considered.

Auberon didn’t answer Wolfgang’s next question right away; instead he reached into the drawer of his desk, withdrawing a large cigar and lighting it. He waited until he’d puffed it up a bit and blown a smoke ring before he answered.

“No, alas. They’re keeping this one quite tightly under wraps. And with Faust gone over the Holidays, we’re down a Champion candidate. We may need to ship some more in,” he said, with a sigh. “We’re still well in the lead, naturally. I’ve little concern.”

“No, alas. They’re keeping this one quite tightly under wraps. And with Faust gone over the Holidays, we’re down a Champion candidate. We may need to ship some more in, we’re still well in the lead, naturally. I’ve little concern.”

"Faust gone?" Wolfgang shook his head disapprovingly. "There are rules to cover such an event, yes? We're able to recruit a replacement?" He looked genuinely worried for a moment, trying to remember his reading of the reams of legislation about the tournament back when they had agreed to take up the challenge. (As if there had ever been any doubt).

"Good. Well, we better stay that way, Headmaster. We can only hope a suitable incapacity befalls our competition so our lead doesn't narrow."

Wolfgang folded the papers back amongst his attire with a deep frown upon his face.

"I trust your judgement in the matter, Sir. Is there anything you do require, Headmaster, which I can attend to?"

“Of course. But any replacement will be unfamiliar with the school and Tournament, alas. It may be best to look at our so far unselected students.” They’d brought their most promising students, after all – and a few useless extras, like that Brunn boy who was always following Magdalena about. The mass of their talent was here.

Merlin knew what Durmstrang was like back home; no doubt they had plenty of new Obertiels as the less powerful ones left behind sought to promote their friends to power. Oh, but the return year would be oh so enjoyable and Durmstrang all but descended into controlled chaos.
They ought to do this more often.

“One can hope,” he agreed, though in the back of his mind he wouldn’t mind a few of the other Champions getting a slight push down the stairs. Narrow the competition any way you could, hm?

Auberon considered for a moment, looking at Wolfgang carefully. “I should like to have some sort of gift for Hogwarts, if we’ve money to spare. As a gesture of gratefulness for the revival of this tradition.” And something to present when they won; a calculated sort of sneer. “I would appreciate if you could look into our options there – quietly, of course. I thought a building of some sort, perhaps?”

"...I thought a building of some sort, perhaps?”

Wolfgang pondered a moment. He was a financial man, rather than a man learned of architecture. He found beauty in numbers with many zeroes after them, set in columns, correctly added, and in profit, not in bricks and mortar. But, he would always follow up Einsenberg's requests.

"What about a pigsty?" The governor suggested, mirroring the headmaster's smirk, "To go with the name, and the quality of their students?" He qualified. "That wouldn't be too much of a burden on our resources, Headmaster."

Sitting back, smiling cruelly, he enquired further.
"Did you have in mind a purpose, frivolous, or functional? No matter, either way, I can get someone onto options. Pigsty, shrine to your good self, or palace, whichever..."

“Oh, functional and grand, definitely,” said Auberon, leaning forward on his desk, his wide grin showing just a bit more tooth than it should have. “It must be something helpful! Afterall, it’s hardly a gift if it’s not somehow useful, is it?”

And it was so much harder to get rid of something you found useful, too. Especially if it appealed to the students…oh, the possibilities!

“You can certainly give me a budget idea, can you not? You know how to find men to plan these things.” Auberon gave Wolfgang a look that said, quite plainly, that if he didn’t…he’d better educate himself. Quickly.

"Of course, Headmaster." Wolfgang replied smoothly. "I will have our best minds on the thought, and consult the governors for their counsel on what would be an appropriate building to represent our thanks and competition win. That they may look out and remember Durmstrang for the force it is, and how charitable we remain."

The thin smile on Wolfgang's angular face read both acceptance of the task and also malicious intent to ensure Hogwarts did not forget the thrashing from Durmstrang on their own turf. But he bowed his head respectfully, acknowledging he would take that request and see it was attended to. Though not until the new year other than an owl or two from the school while he was there.

"Will you be attending the event in aid of the hospital in London, this evening, Sir?" He asked Auberon, "Festivities to ring in the new year?"

Wolfgang, as ever, had the right attitude – a beautifully delightful mix of pride, maliciousness, and grandeur. Auberon puffed up in response, ever the sort to encourage that in his own people and scorn it in others.

“Good man!”he said cheerfully, and this being Auberon, his cheerful tones also made his voice rise in volume; the small, contained cabin echoed with it, the walls almost seeming to be waiting for some bombastic outburst.

“What, the Gala? I have decided to give it a miss. My duties here are rather too pressing,” said the man who had just spent an hour oiling and cleaning his crossbow. “Things to do, you know! Like to get my hands dirty, once in awhile.”

He sniffed, crossing his ankles. “I am expecting you and the professors to attend in my place, of course,” he added, this obvious to him. “Can’t have Durmstrang seeming uncharitable, now can we?”

Occasionally that bellow of Auberon's caught Wolfgang off guard, but he anticipated it just before it rang the cabin that day.

"Of course Sir. Declining the invitation, very well Sir." Wolfgang respectfully responded to Auberon's questions of what he meant. He was a little disappointed the man would not make an entrance, show the British the strength of Durmstrang with him, but his duty was to the school. 

“I am expecting you and the professors to attend in my place, of course, can’t have Durmstrang seeming uncharitable, now can we?”

"Certainly not!" Wolfgang agreed, his own voice volume rising in agreement with the bolder man. "Yes, I will be attending. another reason I'm here already. Camille's unable to - the family will not be gathering this year in respect of Merik's passing, but they will still raise a drink or two quietly together in my absence." Instead of looking sad, Wolfgang was smiling. The real reason his wife wasn't attending was her severe aversion to floo - she'd only spend most of the evening green.

"I'll be sure to rally the troops, ensure we're visible in the Prophet tomorrow morning in your absence. Official duties keeping you from festivities," The governor continued, and then paused, changing his voice to curiosity, "perhaps a couple of bottles of damn good wine too, Headmaster? They did see to bring you some did they not?"