The morning air was crisp, hinting at the coming of fall, and the sky was clear and bright. The sun was just above the horizon, and breakfast had yet to be served below decks of the Institute's ship.

Auberon had been up for two hours already, and as he re boarded the ship he carried several ducks over his shoulder, his crossbow in his other hand. It had served him well over the decades, this crossbow - its enchanted wood unscathed and well cared for, it could be wound back one handed by means of charms, but still packed a massive punch. Its lathes folded back, though at the moment both were fully deployed. It was finely decorated with carvings, and the polished wood gleamed in the sun.

Of course, it used to fire wooden stakes - nowadays it fired standard enchanted bolts. A steady reminder of  his improvement in life.

He kicked one of the ship's hatches, and when the servant elf opened it, he dropped the ducks unceremoniously on the elf's head without a word. Auberon always preferred to eat healthy breakfasts; and in his mind, nothing was healthier than things you killed yourself. The elves were used to this, by now.

None of the students were awake, the lazy bastards! The morning air was good for you - which was why he got as much as possible and vocally encouraged the students to do the same. Auberon made an extra amount of noise as he stomped across the desk to his own quarters, slamming the doors loudly. Any student unfortunate enough to have a room below his path certainly heard that.

When he reemerged a few minutes later, this time in clean robes, there was another figure on the deck; his granddaughter. He smiled broadly, striding towards her.

"Good morning, Magdelana," he said. "I trust you slept well? Ship not too crowded for your tastes, I hope?"

Magdalena looked over the inky black surface of the Hogwarts lake to the castle she’d been studying for a couple of days now. Each evening, at sunset-- and sunsets were late in August-- she watched it rest, a stony monolith who looked as grand under the moon as it did in the daylight. And each morning, there is stood, appearing to grow larger as the sun rose, despite its constant and unchanging presence (though she had heard, to be sure, that the stairwells, door frames, and very corridors rearranged themselves, free-willed as any suit of armor or portrait with visions of grandeur.) There was a glint of mistrust in her eyes.

Turning away from that now, she heard the carrying voice before she set eyes on the face. For Magda, it was always a kind, proud, sight, her grandfather’s face.

“Very well, Grandfather,” Magda answered, standing straight. “Sleeping on the water is pleasant.” Or light. Magdalena saw nothing wrong with sleeping light. Cats slept light, and they were hardly ever prey. The ship was not the dormitory to which she was accustomed, but it was handsome and well-kept. She had grown up in a city on the water, a city dotted with outer islands and known for its shipping kings.

If the ship was too crowded, Magda held her tongue. She was oft candid with her grandfather, but she knew better than to be petty. There were other things she would complain about in his presence. Like their competition.

She smiled now. “Are you enjoying the Forbidden Forest?” She knew him well enough to know that he had made the most of his morning. It was his tradition. She clutched her wand subtly and posed the next question with perhaps a little too much self-assuredness. “What makes it so Forbidden?”

Surely whoever had named it had never been to the dense winter land that surrounded Durmstrang.

While the castle lounged there, huge and unmovable, Magdalena prepared her defenses. Like her grandfather’s hunting, this, too, was tradition; their private lessons were changed now, the landscape less predictable, but there was a surge of adrenaline in her spine and heart and brain as she struck like a cat on the deck of the ship. “Expelliarmus!”

She had not yet managed to disarm her grandfather.

He smiled and stood near her, his hands clasped respectfully behind his back - eyes not on her, but on a point of the woods that nevertheless kept her in his line of sight. "I found it rather difficult, myself," he confessed. "Still! We shall all be sleeping in that castle soon enough." And more or less owning it, if he had any say in matters. The castle's other residents' confidence needed to be uneasy even before the first Task...and the Task had to be perfect.

Of course, a few unfortunate difficulties would be useful, but all in good time.

"Nothing so terrible, it seems," Auberon said, looking back to the forest in question. "Acromantulas and werewolves, apparently; Hogwarts sees fit to ban it to students." He smiled slightly. That was pointless, in his mind. Any student who could venture there and come back was clearly promising or lucky; any who ventured there and did not return was foolish.

Besides, anytime you labelled something 'forbidden' it made people want to go there. It was a simple fact of-

Auberon had both been expecting the attack and was caught off guard. Still, even with age, muscle memory died hard. As her wand raised, his fingers drew his own, and as the bolt of red light shot towards him he moved just enough -

"EXPELLIARMUS!" He boomed in return, returning tit for tat, his voice echoing off the rigging and deck. A flock of birds added to the noise by noisily taking off from the upper mast, their frantic tweeting cancelling out the silence.

"I found it rather difficult, myself. Still! We shall all be sleeping in that castle soon enough."

Magda knew it was coming. On the one hand, being on solid ground had its benefits, and she was curious about the heart of the castle. Really getting inside, sizing up its residents... but there were also pluses being aboard the ship, in familiar company. Not that Magdalena was apprehensive.

"Nothing so terrible, it seems. Acromantulas and werewolves, apparently; Hogwarts sees fit to ban it to students."

Her lips became a little smirk; those things didn’t seem so terrible (though she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could take down a whole nest of adult acromantulas, either). Worse could be found-- or could find her-- in the wilderness of North Europe. “I wonder what they would do if they encountered a yeti. You should bring them one for Christmas, Grandfather.” Little did she know that they had encountered one.

Her wand a graceful, lethal thing that swished before her like some forgotten element, it was nevertheless not (to Magda’s great annoyance) completely invincible. She was not invincible. Her grandfather might have lived a hundred lives before her, though he was not that old. But she came close...

His voice overtook hers. Where she was stealth, he was thunder, commanding. She ignored the birds, used to nature fleeing before her grandfather. She let out a sharp, somewhat indignant breath and leaped back and to her right, brows narrowing, lips parted. Her spell had missed him, and his had come close to her elbow.

Despite the August heat, Magdalena murmured sharply, “Sagitto stirium!,” a spell which sent a dozen icicles jolting like arrows toward her grandfather; she had become fond of it in part because of his love for the crossbow, and also because it seemed so fitting to the environment of Durmstrang. They weren’t there now, but that mattered little. With a loud crack and a sound like shattering glass, one hit the cabin and broke into hundreds of pieces, some flying, others landing like an miniature avalanche on the deck beneath the cabin’s wall.

A Christmas yeti; not a bad idea, Auberon thought. It would look quite fetching, if they could simply get a red and white coat in that large a size...

Not that he had time to ponder how the other schools would feel about such festive pranks learning experiences; after all, he'd done similar things at Durmstrang before. (The Halloween Thestrals had gone over well, he felt) His granddaughter was in good form, and he barely dodged - the last shard hitting and ripping the sleeve of his robe as he jerked his arm away. He smiled, his grin all teeth - a kind of combination between a proud smile and a snarl. The robe could be repaired, of course. He must be getting old, he thought - or he was in a charitable mood this morning, as he usually was with Magda.

He waved his wand, his counter spell hissed between his teeth. "Well done," he said to Magdalena, as the shards of ice rose from the deck to swirl around him, cyclonelike,shattered bits starting to fit back together as the swarm moved. "Perhaps one day, you'll get in the first shot," he added, with a sneer clearly meant to challenge her rather than put her down.

Then he sent the icicles back at her, the shards accompanied by the smaller broken pieces.

Magda’s lips pursed, suppressing a smile at the small victory that was the tear in her grandfather’s robes. Secretly, she would have been doubly pleased if any of the other professors managed to see it before he had it fixed, but knowing was enough. How many other students had had such the honor?

The look on his face, though, was not to be ignored.

She raised her chin at the accolade, the private surge of pride forcing her to double her grip on her wand. She knew he would raise the bar.

Her eyes flickered after the shards, a dance of predatory calculation and adrenaline. The storm of ice seemed to overtake any morning quiescence-- the still lake water, the mild sky, the greenery on the horizon. She braced herself as best she could, her heart beating a little louder as it rebelled against her forced stance. Her limbs wanted to back away, retreat toward the palisade. Her grandfather’s sneer and Magda’s own iron resilience made her stay. Her command seemed to be a dominant gene, inherited from her opponent. The words sent prickles up her spine and neck. She was going to get it in the first shot next time; there was no alternative. The fact that she hadn't yet...

“PROTEGO!” The barrier rippled just barely through the air before her, like the inky water when her grandfather’s despotic charisma was present aboard.

The ice hit the Shield Charm and exploded, sending what seemed like millions of pieces into the water and at the polished railing. What was left of it continued to swirl like a hissing, temperamental snake.

“Perhaps one day you'll get past snag my robes.” Until then, her clothes didn't have a stitch out of place. She was proud of her Shield Charms, even if she couldn’t disarm her grandfather. Yet. The girl stopped the Shield Charm and maneuvered left of the (now smaller) storm. Her face the picture of concentration, she sent a silent transfiguration spell at swirling ice; suddenly, it was a swarm of bees. A provoking “flagrate” repelled them from Magda, toward her grandfather, in a temperamental, roaring hum.

"Perhaps," he said, with a slight hint of a smile. In reality, he likely wouldn't; there were quite a few things Auberon was old fashioned on - it'd be easier to list the things he wasn't old fashioned on, really - but actually harming his granddaughter was one of them. He was considerably less likely to toss female students into the mast or strike them.

Of course, a dip in the lake was hardly out of the question. Girls were able to swim even in their massive and ornate robes, after all!

The bees were unexpected, to say the least, though he did feel the usual burst of pride at her ingenuity. He raised his own shield, though it wouldn't hold back the bees for long. He glanced at Magdalena, and then suddenly smiled - or, rather, showed his teeth. If she wanted to up the ante, then the ante would be upped.

His spell's incantation, booming as it was, was rendered indecipherable in the roar of the bees and in the roar or the fire that burst from the end of his wand, the flames dark and creating a massive burning circle around him. The bees roared in distress and were lost in it, the fire rising over his head and spreading, crawling up the mast and across the decks. Bunting and flags smoldered and caught fire in its path, the ancient wood blackening as the wall of fire advanced...

Well, it wasn't a proper duel without some collateral damage, as his mother used to say!

As the bees disintegrated, so did flecks of wood-- and then much larger chunks of wood... cloth flags, previously open spaces. Magda narrowed her eyes and tried not to smile... or frown. Her grandfather had thrown a blanket over her sweet little gift of a stinging chorus.

What the shipbuilders would have said about the damage to their comely daughter was not applicable. They were dead and gone, and this ship had probably seen harsher days in a northern winter. (Then again, her grandfather did have a special talent.) Magda had been dancing around spells since the start of their duel, and now she only moved faster. It was that, or burn, and she would not.

Instead of aiming another nasty charm in her grandfather’s direction, she pointed her wand at the water. It rippled so delicately, it might have been the squid gliding lazily under the surface. But the ripples got bigger, and faster. Soon, the ship began to yawn and stir and tilt a little at the water’s behest. The fire continued its destructive path, and the tide began to rise as it slapped against the wood. Soon, it was splashing on board, sloshing around their feet, making the fire hiss in protest, and then, from further back in the water, the tide wave moved like a snake, gathering momentum. Magda’s eyes darted to the lake and back to her grandfather. She braced herself as (now rail-high... now cabin-high... now somewhat closer... and bigger...) wave flew at them dementor-style. The boat was moving like a seesaw.

The boat rocked wildly. Auberon was thrown off balance as the heaving deck grew more and more out of control, the fire both helped along and damped by the water sloshing across the fore decks. He drew his wand, thrusting it forward in an attempt to block whatever Magdalena was doing -

He was too late, though. The massive wave struck the side of the ship and the deck lurched sideways, the edge of the deck and the sails hitting the cold water of the Black Lake at nearly the same moment. Auberon was thrown off his feet and fell into the churning water, silently thanking his ability to swim even in his soaked robes.

A loud splash nearby announced Magda's arrival in the water; he reached out and caught his grand daughter about the waist as the massive weight of her Durmstrang robes started to weigh her down. With her securely held against him, Auberon gripped his wand in his teeth and swam for the shore line, only a short distance away, and fully soaked with water rushing back out into the lake.

"Well," he said, when their feet touched the rocks on the shoreline. He assessed the damage; boat on its side and likely filling with water, the upper sail still on fire and personal belongings floating around in the water - oh and cries of surprise and displeasure from below decks now, too. It also appeared to be sinking very slowly.

He turned to Magdalena. "I believe this qualifies as a win for you, my dear!" he said, patting her on a soaking shoulder.

The world turned like a globe at her fingertips. Only, it was her wand tip causing the spin, which was not entirely smooth from this vantage point. Magda felt her feet leave the steadiness of the deck. A few seconds later, she was in the water, plunging below its inky (and now capped) surface. Beneath the surface, the black was more green, a touch cloudy. She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt her grandfather's grasp. The giant hand could only belong to him, and no squid would dare disturb his mission.

She surfaced, hair sopping, eyes opening again, and drew breath. It was welcome and cool, despite the summer heat. She was pulled swiftly to the shore, where she climbed back to her feet, gathering her breath. Theirs was a pleasing mid-morning swim compared to the chaos that had become the ship. The boat was no longer on its belly. Even as the water around them began to calm, a lazy whirlpool of sorts formed around the handsome wooden ship.

She had won. Magda smiled lopsidedly, more of a smirk really. If her classmates, comrades, and mentors were waking to a more intense bath than they had expected, well. "What a shame they don't wake when you do, Grandfather. Lunch will be over before they finish drying their trunks."

She held her wand close, prepared to help with damage control. And then, she decided, she would go into town. It was a lovely morning.

"Hrmph. Perhaps this will prove an incentive!" Auberon said, thumping a hand against his chest. "They don't know what they're missing. Morning air does a body good!" Look at him! 80 years old and healthier than men half his age!

Of course, as he said this the ship continued to sink. As much as he might find the situation amusing, the reality was that if the ship went too far under the water and sank, that would be a very unfortunate occurrance. He had antiques on board. And students, of course!

"Let us make sure they have the chance to dry out, shall we?" He said to his granddaughter. "A good lev - oh, well."

He cut himself off as huge tentacles emerged from the water. His moment of panic vanished when the massive squid lifted the ship, setting the waterlogged vessel back upright. Water poured off the decks and wreckage floated in the water all around it, but it was upright again at least.

"Amazing creature!" Auberon boomed, happily. "Should get one ourselves, don't you think?"

He extended a dripping arm to Magdalena. "Ought to get dry ourselves, don't you think? And I suspect we both have some cleanup to do in our quarters - hopefully everything's intact, eh?"