Rudolf "Dolf" Novikov Durmstrang

THE TRUNK

STATISTICS
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STAMINA 10 | EVASION 8 | STRENGTH 10
WISDOM 17 | ARC POWER 15 | ACCURACY 13
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TOTAL 73
(full human, Adult I + one quidditch win [PC] + statistically relevant ability, WIS +2 [PC])

ADULT ADVANCEMENT LOG
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Adult I (2024): gained five stat points

ABILITIES
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01. Non-Human Enthusiast (formerly Monster Hunter)

Reducio

Rudolf’s mother might have hung up her monster-hunting gear by the time that her son was born, but she still had an entire library’s worth of stories to pass along. Although Anna Novikov might not have achieved very much in her short-lived career, she’d done enough research to practically become an expert in the field of monsters and magical creatures. What else was she supposed to talk about when little Rudolf wouldn’t fall asleep at night?

At first, Anna's stories sounded more like fairy tales than field reports. She started with the more whimsical magical species; her bedtime tales were filled with unicorns and dragons and embellished with fantasy-like detail. Eventually, things started to get more practical. Rudolf learned about hippogriffs and grindylows, mermaids and centaurs. He giggled through Anna's profiles of flobberworms and gnomes, and huddled close to his mother's side when she turned to frightful topics like acromantulas and basilisks. They spent their days together pretending to do battle with giants and escape from dementors. When night fell, Anna tucked her son into bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Once he'd finally nodded off to sleep, often in the middle of her story, she'd remind him in a whisper that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Eventually, Rudolf grew out of playing games with his mother. He stopped needing her stories to fall asleep, and their discussions turned from monsters and beasts towards his upcoming first year at the Durmstrang Institute. The boy had no plans to become a monster hunter like his mother had always aspired to be, and as such he saw little point in memorizing all of her facts and statistics. Still, he couldn't deny that the knowledge could be useful. There was no telling if or when he'd run into a monster that was out for his blood. With his mother's unofficial training, he might be able to protect himself from an unfortunate end.

A year of Durmstrang education turned Anna's old stories from general knowledge into a strategic advantage. The school reminded Rudolf of where his trust was best placed: with his fellow purebloods. Perhaps he wouldn't go actively looking for monsters, but he'd definitely know what to do with them if they came his way. His mother's experience would help him find their weaknesses, their soft spots, their flaws -- and his school training would give him the tools that he needed to take the creatures down. After all, it was his duty as a wizard and as a Durmstrang student to protect himself and his schoolmates from the clawed beasts that waited outside of the castle walls.

02. Martial Artist

Reducio

After Rudolf’s second year of schooling, he had become a much more confident wizard than ever before. His small arsenal of spells felt like enough to take on any problem — in fact, he could hardly remember how he’d survived without his wand in hand. Rudolf's father must have been able to see his son's confidence tipping dangerously close to arrogance, because one summer evening after the family had finished eating dinner, he sat Rudolf down for a talk.

"What do you do if you lose your wand in a duel, Rudolf?" he asked evenly, peering at the thirteen-year-old boy curiously. Not sensing the trap that was hidden underneath his father's civility, Rudolf shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"What could I do? I'd have to surrender, wouldn't I? I won't know how to do wandless magic for a long time." It seemed like a fine answer to the boy. He could hardly compete against an armed wizard; to do so would mean certain defeat.

"No!" Rudolf's father bellowed, pounding his fist against the table. Rudolf jumped, shocked to see his father react with such fire. He'd always been a calm and collected person. Had Rudolf's answer really been wrong enough to warrant that violent response. He watched his father fearfully as the man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, frowning at his son.

"You are already making the mistake that I see so much. Magic is your tool, Rudolf, but it is not your crutch. If you can't do anything without it, then you don't deserve to have that wand." Rudolf's face burned red in shame and his gaze dropped to the floor. What made his father qualified to talk about getting by without magic? He'd been raised just as pureblooded as Rudolf had been. He worked for the Ministry of Magic, even. If he didn't have his wand, Rudolf doubted that his father could get by.

"Get up," Rudolf's father ordered, and he heard the scrape of the dining chair against the floor. Slowly, the boy looked back up to see his father standing behind the table, beckoning him over. "Come on. We're going to pretend that I'm here to...kill your mother." Rudolf's eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Mrs. Novikov had heard anything. "What do you do?"

The boy shrugged, swaying uncertainly on his feet. "What can I do?"

"You know what!" Rudolf's father rebuked him. "I know that they taught you better than this at school. You don't have your wand. You have to protect your mother. What are you going to do about it?" Slowly, Rudolf moved around the table and faced his father. He swung his arm out uncertainly in a weak punch that cut through the air in front of his father's nose, and the man nodded solemnly in approval. "Good. Again. Don't be afraid to hit me for real, Rudolf. I won't punish you." A small smile crossed his father's lips, and Rudolf smiled back. He struck his father lightly in the chest and was shoved backwards in return. The two men wrestled for a few minutes more before Rudolf's father raised his hands in surrender.

The lesson had been learned: magic may have been Rudolf's birthright, but it wasn't going to float him through life. Eventually, there were going to be obstacles that couldn't be cursed away; as long as he kept practicing, Rudolf's fist would be just as useful as the wand that it held.

03. Fearless

Reducio

It hadn't taken Rudolf very long to learn that there was no place for fear at Durmstrang. He'd been thrown into the deep end in the very first week of his first year, when his entire class had been taken deep into the grounds for "survival training". If that didn't force Rudolf to face his fears early on, he didn't know what would. The very nature of the Durmstrang Institute strengthened the boy, making him tougher, more resilient. As Rudolf started to take an interest in martial magic, he became less and less worried about physical threats. He had the means to protect himself, and he was learning more with every lesson. The jittery nerves that had plagued him during his first few days were quickly calmed as he got to know his classmates, living with them and learning as much as he could from the older boys. Durmstrang was the fire that was forging Rudolf into a steadfast and strong wizard.

His time at school wasn't the only thing that eased his fears, however. His parents had taught him their own lessons and prepared him for survival in the magical world. Thanks to his mother's bedtime stories, Rudolf wasn't worried about creatures or beasts. He knew better than to go chasing after dragons or basilisks unprepared, and he could keep his calm in the face of animal danger. While he wasn't exactly battling monsters every day, Rudolf knew that he could, and that was enough to help him keep his composure.

His father had saved Rudolf from himself, making sure that he didn't cripple himself with a total reliance on magic. They worked hard in their summers together to build Rudolf's physical skills, keeping him in shape and teaching him the ins and outs of physical dueling -- or, like the nonmagi called it, a good old-fashioned street brawl. Rudolf didn't love the idea of resorting to such barbaric means, but at least he was prepared to come to blows.

As a graduating fourth year, Rudolf feels like he can handle anything that the world might throw at him. Monsters? No big deal. Curses? Nothing that a counter-spell couldn't solve. All-around jerks? A punch to the face should work nicely. Rudolf has been raised to take care of himself, and intends to use all of his skills and abilities to keep himself and his loved ones out of danger's way. Rudolf may only be a teenager, but he's designated himself as a protector, and protectors cannot afford to be afraid of anything.

04. Advanced Casting

Reducio

It was the summer before Rudolf's fifth year, just after he'd returned from London and the Quidditch World Cup, that his parents had sat him down in the kitchen and told him that it was time to "get serious" in his studies. He had to admit that he'd been caught by surprise. London had put him in a good mood (which was probably what they were planning on), and after four years of hard work at Durmstrang, Dolf had been under the impression that he was "serious". He gave more than enough of his time to reading, writing, chanting. He was attentive in all of his classes and he never missed an assignment. Hell, he could name plenty of his classmates that he knew were far less "serious" than he was. But he knew that his father wouldn't take that as an excuse. It would only anger the man. So Dolf kept his mouth tightly shut and heard his parents' rationale.

They started off with the obvious, that he was officially halfway through his Durmstrang education. No words of praise were offered, but there were no criticisms, either. Just a statement of the facts: you've completed four years. Your effort was satisfactory. That was when they started talking about the future, about success. About what he had to do to ensure it. "It never hurts to work harder," he'd been told. When it came down to it, their basis was universal: they only wanted the best for their son.

And Dolf, trusting their appraisal more than he trusted his own, promised that he would up his efforts. From the first day he returned to school in the fall, his wand never left his hand. He was practicing incantations between mouthfuls at breakfast; executing wand movements in his free time between lessons; spending his evenings sharpening his skills of concentration under pressure. His mother would delight at his conviction, he thought. His father would congratulate his form. And he wanted them to, more than he even knew why. Maybe it was just to prove that he could get better. The root of magic was innate, after all -- that was what separated Dolf and his people from the Nonmagi -- but there had to be a way to improve it once you had it. Otherwise, what was the point of all this studying? And how could Dolf become any more than he was now?

As winter turned to spring, he finally started noticing results. With his tongue sharper, his arm steadier, his will sturdier, Dolf found that his spells had lots more potential than they had a year ago. They were stronger, he thought, like he was. And as long as he kept up his work, he'd have something really impressive to show off when he got back to Kyiv in June.

05. Evasive Maneuvers

Reducio

Pfft!

The first snowball took Dolf by surprise, catching him squarely on his left shoulder and threatening to send the Ukrainian teenager sprawling into the snow. He struggled to keep his footing as the frosty projectile exploded on impact; it hadn't been packed tightly enough to deal any serious damage, but it left a trickle of slushy meltwater sliding down his neck, chilling him right through to his spine. For a few seconds, he was just stunned — overcome by the unexpected blow and the sudden, terrible cold. But as he processed the sound of roaring laughter from across the snow-covered lawn... as the realization dawned on him that he would have to wear these robes to class... Dolf felt his face burn with embarrassment and indignation. He swiped at the chunks of snow clinging to his collar and wheeled around to confront his attackers.

"What's wrong, Novikov?" called a mocking voice in Russian. Dolf clenched his teeth, recognizing a small group of older, larger boys from the year above his. He should've known that they would take to the Durmstrang grounds after last night's fresh snowfall, just as he had, to terrorize the rest of the student body. And yet, like an idiot, he'd made himself the perfect victim: alone, distracted, and hopelessly outnumbered, like a helpless baby deer facing a pack of wolves. If he were with his friends, the other boys might've let them pass. Now that they'd caught him on his own, however, it wouldn't be easy to escape. The fact that they knew his name was already a bad sign.

He was about to respond with a biting comeback when another snowball struck his chest. Another round of laughter went up from his tormentors. Dolf clenched his fists; if he thought he could take that gang of покидьки — bastards — without risking his life and the rest of his time at Durmstrang, he'd have thrown caution to the wind and swung a right hook at the biggest one. He was sure that he could land a few blows before the rest of the boys pummeled him. Unfortunately, he didn't like his odds nearly enough to stand up for himself. And he knew his father would kill him if he got expelled because of a stupid fight.

Dolf took a deep breath, squeezed his fists so hard that he felt his fingernails start to cut into his palms, and forced himself to turn back towards the school building without a word. He heard the boys jeering at him, calling him a coward (among other, much worse things) for walking away from them, and daring him to come back and be a man. Although he tried to escape the scene as fast as he could, the snow slowed him down — he took another snowball to the back of the head before he could get away. This one hit much harder than the first two. It left him feeling dazed; they must've packed some ice into it. Lucky it wasn't a rock. Dolf fought back tears of anger and pain as he fled towards his dormitory, desperate to avenge himself but cursed with enough smarts to know that doing so would just make things worse.

Over dinner that night, the Ukrainian decided that if he couldn't go snowball for snowball with the older boys, he could at least learn to dodge some of their attacks. He balled up lengths of parchment and convinced his friends and roommates to help him test his reflexes; once he'd explained that all they'd have to do was throw things at him, it was a very easy sell. He practiced ducking pillows and paper projectiles until he felt like he could practically predict the blows before they landed. It was a rush; for the first time, he understood why anyone would play Quidditch. After a week or two of training, he felt ready to meet his bullies again.

The reunion came a short time later, on the morning after another decent overnight snowfall. Dolf was walking his usual route across the grounds; this time, he was alert, scanning his surroundings for incoming snowballs or older boys hiding in wait. In fact, he heard the first of the icy weapons before he saw it. It whistled through the air, giving him just enough notice to jerk out of the way and watch the snowball explode against a tree trunk. He heard a voice cry out in frustration at having missed its target — that was his cue to run. Moving as fast as he could through the snow, he ducked out of the way of a few more snowballs, grinning as each of them hit the ground harmlessly. When he was sure he was out of range, he paused to look back at his attackers and gloat; yet, when he saw them pulling their wands from their coats with menacing glares, he whipped back around and sprinted for safety.

It wasn't how he preferred to handle the situation, but Dolf supposed he had to be thankful to his antagonistic schoolmates for teaching him to get faster. If he could dodge a snowball, he'd surely be able to dodge all sorts of other things in the future.

06. Apparition

Reducio

The silence of the grand, empty Durmstrang hall only amplified the frantic heartbeat of the nerve-wracked teenager standing under its vaulted ceiling. It was nearly the end of Rudolf's seventh year, and he was in the middle of a very important examination. On the other side of the room, a stern-looking older man clutched a clipboard and a magnifying glass; he was waiting for something, tapping his foot with an air of practiced — but not endless — patience. After all, this young Ukrainian was not the only student he had to evaluate today.

Dolf tried to quiet the rhythm of his pulse and swallow the taste of fear. дихай, he told himself. Dyxaj. Breathe. He stared at the proctor. The proctor, unblinking, stared back. Dolf was nearly overcome by a wave of nervous nausea — bats, not butterflies, were dancing in his stomach — but pushed it down with a deep breath, clenched his fists, and gave a small nod. He was going to do it. Apparition.

He was going to apparate.

In fact, he was going to apparate perfectly: right from this spot at the back of the hall into the chalk circle that the proctor had conjured on the floor, about a dozen meters away. Although fear of failure threatened to stop the young wizard before he could even get started, he knew that failure was not an option. Passing this examination was the only way he'd be licensed to apparate after leaving school. How long had he been waiting for this opportunity? Since he was just a kid, watching his parents pop around the house while barely moving a muscle, he'd wanted to do that himself. He knew the risks of the practice, of course — knew that apparition was no party trick or lazy man's shortcut — but, in his opinion, they were very much outweighed by its usefulness. Rudolf Novikov would no longer be dependent on mother, father, portkey maker, or train conductor to get him where he wanted to be. He'd be his own wizard.

There was his career to consider, too. In his recent years at Durmstrang, Dolf had realized that what he really cared about was security. He liked honing his prowess, of course, both magical and physical; yet, while other boys used their strength for glory, personal gain, or the assertion of their dominance, Dolf preferred to protect and defend. Instead of rushing headlong into danger, he took his time to assess the situation. Instead of bending the rules or breaking them outright, he tended to follow the letter of the law. Rules were rules for a reason, after all. He aspired to be a sentinel: a bodyguard, maybe, or a hit wizard. He would be a shield — a sword — hell, he'd be both. But not if he couldn't master this essential skill.

"Soon, please, Mr. Novikov," the proctor called out in bored Russian. Dolf flushed pink and shook his head to dispel his wandering thoughts, ashamed of having been called out for his hesitation. He knew the hard truth: that insidious fear of failure was never really going to go away. If he wanted his license, he was just going to have to work through it. Another look at the proctor told Dolf that he wasn't likely to wait much longer; now or never, it was go time.

He squeezed his eyes shut and recalled the steps he'd taught himself during the past year. Envision your destination. In this instance, that task was especially easy; he'd been staring at the proctor's chalk circle for so long that he could practically see it on the back of his eyelids. The fact that it was very close by didn't hurt, either. Align your mind and your body. This step was especially important, since neglecting it could result in a painful splinching. He had to bring every part of him from Point A to Point B, without exception. Not one eyelash, not one toenail, and certainly no arms, legs, or other appendages could be left behind. It was a struggle to think of himself in so much detail, but Dolf tried his best to get it right. He'd heard stories of students failing their examinations because they'd suffered the smallest of splinches. In fact, he was realizing just this moment that this was probably what the proctor's magnifying glass was meant for. Uh oh. No time to get distracted, though. He would be very, very careful.

Now — the next step. Inhale in one spot... Dolf drew in another deep breath, letting it sweep his doubts and nerves to the side and clear his head. He was going to land dead center in that circle. Bullseye.

...and exhale in the other. The young wizard was barely aware of the crack that resounded through the hall as he vanished from his place by the doors and reappeared in front of the proctor. He was overwhelmed by the sensation of being crushed from all sides, squeezed through space like the last bit of toothpaste in the tube. He'd thought for a split second that he would never see Durmstrang again. Yet, when the feeling stopped and he dared to have a look around, there was the Russian ministry man right in front of him. His eyes went wide. Glancing down, he saw his toes less than an inch from the chalk line that marked the edge of the circle, threatening to smudge it — but solidly within its confines. He'd done it!

The proctor cleared his throat, calling for Dolf's attention. He looked the Durmstrang student up and down, raised an eyebrow, and made a mark on his clipboard. "In the future, Mr. Novikov," he droned, "I advise apparating with your eyes open. Looks strained otherwise. But it is my duty to grant you a passing mark."

There was more information delivered in the proctor's monotone about the rules of apparition, but Dolf didn't hear much beyond the phrase "passing mark." He was going to be licensed. He'd accomplished something important. His parents would be thrilled; he'd have to decide whether to write to them right away or keep it a surprise until the summer. And, more importantly, he was thrilled with himself. When he was dismissed from the hall a short time later, Dolf left with his head held high.

07. Occlumency

Reducio

For his eighteenth birthday, Dolf wasn't expecting much — really, he wasn't. He was looking forward to visiting home for the winter holidays and having dinner with his parents. Maybe they'd let him share a drink with them to celebrate the occasion. While no one could say that the Novikovs were not a loving family, neither Bohdan nor Anna nor their son were especially fond of grand displays of affection; short, handwritten congratulations and shoulder squeezes were much more to their liking than extravagant celebrations and expensive gifts. Dolf knew that his parents were proud of him for becoming a respectable young man, on track to graduate Durmstrang that summer with good marks. He didn't need to be rewarded for it. So when they told him that they had a surprise for him, he wasn't quite sure what to do.

"What kind of surprise?" he asked, glancing between his mother and his father with thinly-veiled suspicion. It was a few nights after Christmas, and they were still eating leftovers from the small feast that Bohdan had prepared. A knowing smile appeared on his mother's face as his father — who had just taken a large bite of mashed potatoes — held up his hand, keeping Dolf in suspense while he waited for him to finish chewing. What kind of surprise? the young wizard repeated in his head, trying to read his father's expression for clues. No luck there; it was like looking at a brick wall. He thought the word "surprise" implied that it was something he'd like, although past experience had taught him that this wasn't always a safe assumption. Had they gotten him something for school (despite the fact that school was almost over)? Were they going to take him on a trip? Depending on the destination, that could be a very good surprise or a very bad one. Were they adopting a new pet? He didn't think that was likely; Tchaikosvky was an old cat, but he still had the spirit and energy of a kitten, and Dolf doubted that he'd take well to being replaced. Maybe they were having another child. It was no more than a fleeting thought, but it instantly put Dolf on his defenses. If that were true, he'd lose his damn mind.

His internal interrogation was interrupted by the clink of metal on dishware as his father set down his fork and cleared his throat. "We know you're beginning to think about your career, Rudolf," he said. The corners of Dolf's mouth twitched as he tried his best not to frown. He didn't love how this explanation was starting. "You'll be an adult soon. We're proud of you. And we want to give you an advantage."

"Something to help you stand out from the other boys your age," his mother added. His father nodded in agreement. At that, Dolf's curiosity was piqued.

"We've hired a teacher for you," Bohdan continued, cutting to the heart of the matter. "If you are willing, he will train you to be an Occlumens."

Dolf blinked in surprise. He'd heard of Occlumency, obviously, but he had never expected to encounter it outside of a textbook. Suddenly, he was being given the opportunity to learn it himself. He struggled to find the right words to say as his parents looked on, waiting: his father with a raised eyebrow and his mother with an expectant smile. He had to accept, didn't he? The idea of turning down this sort of offer seemed unimaginably stupid. "I... I am," he stuttered. "I am willing, I mean. I don't know how you... thank you. Where did you even find this teacher?"

His father chuckled. "I know someone at the Ministry. I talk about you often, you know. He was happy to take you on when I explained what a responsible student you are. I'm counting on you not to prove me wrong, Rudolf." Dolf nodded. It was all he could do. When his parents got up to clear the table at the end of dinner, he sat in his chair for a while longer, stunned. What a birthday gift.

The next day, a knock on the door heralded the arrival of his tutor. Dolf's father greeted the older man at the threshold with a firm handshake, led him into the kitchen where Dolf was waiting, and introduced him as Mr. Leshchenko. He was one of Bohdan's associates at the Ukrainian Ministry of Magic, apparently, who had taught himself Occlumency and a bit of Legilimency as well. As Mr. Leshchenko ushered his father out of the kitchen and shut the door, Dolf took a moment to appraise his new teacher. The man looked gruff but not unkind. His face was lined with wrinkles and his hair was thinning, but there was a sharpness to his gaze that belied a capable mind. He greeted Dolf, asked him a few questions about Durmstrang, and then sat him down at the kitchen table so they were facing each other.

"I am going to teach you to shutter your mind," Leshchenko stated. "It will not be pleasant. It will be hard. I will ask very much of you, because we do not have much time together before you return to school. But I believe that I can put you on the path to Occlumency if you follow my instructions. Do you agree to do so?"

Dolf agreed. He had always been one to follow the rules. Even if he weren't, he would've been cowed by Leshchenko's imposing aura. His instructor nodded solemnly, narrowing his eyes — and suddenly, a flood of memories surged into Dolf's consciousness. He was racing through the living room, chasing Tchaikosvky. His foot caught on a lump in the carpet; he was sent sprawling towards the roaring fireplace. Just before the flames could sear his skin, an icy-cold blast erupted from his hands and instantly put out the blaze. That had been his first use of magic. He remembered it well, but... not this well. This felt like he was trapped in the memory.

"How did you do that?" he asked, though he didn't think the words ever left his lips. He could feel Leshchenko's presence at the edge of his conscious, and it was from there that he received a reply. "Repel my advances. Guard your mind."

Dolf struggled to remember who he was: not this eight-year-old version of himself, but his real self, ten years older and sitting at the kitchen table. He felt the memory of his first instance of magic fade as he began to loosen his teacher's grasp on his thoughts, but a sudden surge of fierce, concentrated energy overwhelmed him again. He was at Hogwarts' Blossom Ball, the one that had been styled like Ancient Greece. He was undergoing the Trial of Orpheus and failing. Somehow, he felt Leshchenko heave a disappointed sigh as, in the memory, Dolf turned back from his goal and realized he'd lost the game. Then, the buzz of the party was replaced by the quiet of the kitchen.

He looked at his hands, clenching the edge of the table, and realized that he'd broken into a sweat. Leshchenko, meanwhile, hardly seemed winded. "You have resolve," Dolf's tutor remarked, "but you lack fortitude. You are merely reacting to my incursions. You must foresee them — prevent them." The young wizard was still reeling from the experience, but he nodded, trying to appear less disoriented than he felt. The ghost of a smile crossed Leshchenko's lips. "Not bad for your first lesson. We will resume tomorrow morning, Rudolf. In the meantime, I expect you to practice."

Tomorrow morning? He hadn't been lying when he said these lessons were going to be rigorous — but was the first of them over already? "You're leaving?" Dolf asked, confused. "We barely started."

Mr. Leshchenko chuckled. "It's been three hours. You were stuck in that memory of Hogwarts for quite some time before I pulled you out." Dolf's eyes went wide. Three hours? He had to be joking. But, as his father saw Leshchenko out the door and his mother entered the kitchen to check on him, she confirmed that the whole afternoon had passed him by.

Every day for the next few weeks, Leshchenko came to the house and taught Dolf to hone his Occlumency. His holiday break was shaping up to be more intensive than most days at Durmstrang; even when he wasn't in lessons, Dolf was practicing what he'd learned. He celebrated the New Year and his actual birthday while striving to clear his mind, packing thoughts and memories into lockboxes and putting them behind iron bars. When Leshchenko arrived for their last lesson before Dolf's return to Durmstrang, Dolf greeted him at the door, eager to show off his progress. He stared deep into Leshchenko's eyes and felt the older man attempt to target the same memory he'd picked out on their first day: the frozen fireplace.

He hadn't known what he was doing then, but he had an inkling of it now. Summoning all of his strength, Dolf redirected Leshchenko's Legilimency towards a single thought: you can't get me. The strain of it still made his hands shake and his forehead collect beads of sweat, but it was worth the effort to hear his teacher let out a surprised, barking laugh and then clap him on the shoulder. "Good, Rudolf!" he declared. "Good!"

When Dolf said goodbye to Mr. Leshchenko at the end of that lesson, he was surprised to realize how much he was going to miss the man. Maybe he'd be willing to continue teaching him after graduation, when he returned home for the summer; though, of course, he'd have work to think about then. He was no expert Occlumens yet, but he was willing to bet that very few of the other boys at Durmstrang could do what he had learned to do with Leshchenko's help. As long as he kept practicing, Dolf hoped there might come a day when his mind was more secure than the most precious vaults at Gringotts.

SPELLS & POTIONS KNOWN
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see trunk for PC Adam Harringtom