Eviction Notice PV with Hans Jenssen

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen, all thoughts in German and dialogue in Russian unless otherwise stated, all other mentioned characters are faceless NPCs

For some, the lack of such a popular figure at a social event so famous - or rather, infamous, it was a Hogwarts ball, after all - would equate as a lasting empty presence in a foreign ballroom and an unease without the centre of mingling and conversation. Certainly, the disconcerting restfulness of the usually bustling halls left an empty presence in Hans' chest cavity and although he had never been to any Hogwarts celebration in his two short years at Durmstrang, he felt excluded from the socialisation he so enjoyed. Therefore, as the familiar sight of the ship graced his vision, the comfort of routine blossomed in his heart. Soon, the past fortnight would be behind them and months in front before the summer, as the synchronised footsteps of him and his friends would skid and pound on the grounds, doing they only thing they do best: being themselves and having fun without care for any consequence.

Racing to the entrance from the grounds in excitement, jumping over fallen logs and ducking at branches, he would crash into the arms of an awaiting friend. After a warm welcome directed at his returning friends and accompanying them back to their dormitories before getting gifted an English comic book and flipping through it half-heartedly, Hans reluctantly made his way back to his own dorm and, truth be told, unpleasant dorm mate, for there was no word that could describe him so fittingly, at least as of today. He has nothing exceptional in look and truly nothing significant in personality for that matter. Just shorter than Hans by an inch or two, he was tall and built athletically enough, with piercing electric blue eyes that some might have found intimidating, especially combined with a seemingly cold personality, though that seemed to be ever-present, at least in some members of the year but particularly in upperclassmen and particularly in purebloods with strict families like Nikolai. Of course, there was significance in pointing out Hans was never one of those people. As always, his first impression was fine enough but granted, if Nikolai was disinterested in seeking any type of relationship, there was no point in Hans putting in conscious effort considering his more than decent amount of friends elsewhere. Their relationship now was diplomatic enough, but strictly professional, with bare conversation - conversation that Hans had little care for - when necessary but briefly shared eye contact when not.

To Hans it did not make sense that, out of all the students in Durmstrang that enjoyed his company, Nikolai was the one he was paired with as dorm mate. Considering that Durmstrang organised student dormitories based on level of studies and competence, he should have considered it an insult, but truthfully, he did not quite know how well Nikolai was doing in his studies and never cared enough to pay attention to such in the classroom or question about it in the dorm room. Grades, being something he was never concerned by in honesty, could be put aside in the equation and behind friendship. This left him with very little to do in his own dorm room other than read - an activity which he did not enjoy as much as his parents desired him to, do homework - an activity he enjoyed even less, or stare glumly out of the window - an activity the energetic Hans did not enjoy at all. Sometimes it seemed as if the common rooms, grounds, or dormitories of others were more home than his own dorm room. Still detestation had never manifested in Hans despite this, for truly his almost hubris-like flaw led him to believe that one day, Nikolai would learn that in order to advance in his life, perhaps both socially and academically, he must seek out Durmstrang's daredevil second year, Hans Jenssen, or Schafer, the name he associated himself with much more, a name of power, a name of the magi.

Opening the door and not caring whether Nikolai was inside or not, he sat down on his bed slowly, prodded the door closed, and briefly glanced upwards. The scene in front of him was surprising enough that he could not help but smirk as the scene of Nikolai's belongings (or at least that was what he assumed them to be), mostly what he had never seen prior, littered on the floor as if it was some sort of garage sale. Kicking off his boots, he leaned back on his bed and turned so he faced the wall, raising the comic so that it covered his face. 'Hello,' Nikolai suddenly said, though it sounded more like gibberish than Russian. Not raising his eyes despite the shocking progression in their relationship, he replied even-temperedly, 'Hey.' In his second attempt, he tried to strike up conversation, 'I hope you had a nice spring holiday.' Sitting up though still not quite facing him properly, 'Yeah, it was nice enough.' In truth, it was not all sunshine and rainbows. With Otto occupied and not present for most of the fortnight, Hans had started to tire of being called "Johannes", a name which he detested, started to tire of their strict rules and expectations, despite the fact that in some fields they were far behind him, and of course he had started to tire of the lack of the most important substance in his twelve years of life as of right now: the power of true magic in his hands. Yet still, cocking his head, he asked back with raised brows, 'You?'

@Matthew Campbell as Nikolai Volkov

In the flash second pause between the boys answer Nikolai wondered if their brief dance with conversation would cease so instantly. Quietly out of the silence though Hans did persevere as he had hoped. It was strange to be attempting a conversation with someone who ought to be your closest ally. Dormmates in Durmstrang weren't only your equals but typically they were the ones that knew every little detail about you. At least that's how Nikolai had observed it from his perch on the edge of things. Sadness panged his heart at the realisation of just how isolated he really was in Durmstrang, until this moment it had always seemed like a strength to preserve his safety but now with those walls crumbled it was apparent just how little he really had.

The time for action was now. If Nikolai was serious about changing his life he had to be resolved to change and it may not be much but Hans wasn't actively shutting down their conversation. In that tiny little gap there was room to grow and he would be damned if he wasn't going to try, smiling slightly as he spoke a small giggle forming within his mind,"It was... transformative." The pause in his words leaving much to be desired. Turning away from the boy as his smile grew wide he took in the collection of boxes that cluttered the once empty room. Then throwing a smirking look back towards Hans he laughed aloud before speaking, "I believe this is my official eviction notice. I have to give it to my parents, what they lack in tact they make up for in graceful wrapping." Rifling through a box he held up a stack of books that had been ornamented with a lovely silk ribbon wrapped over each side complete with a flourished bow.

Tossing the books down on his bed he paused for a moment unsure of how to proceed. From the little he knew about his roommate it was hard to gage how he was reacting to all this. Nikolai couldn't blame him if he was confused for he was acting extremely unlike himself. Well, that was to say, extremely unlike the marbled statue he had carved himself to be. It occurred to Nikolai that perhaps all these little things like his new found laugh and smirk were the real him and had just been hidden away so long they felt foreign. Steeling his nerve with the incredible display of fearlessness he had discovered as a child he crossed the room and reaching out his hand offered it to the boy.

"I know this is long overdue and I haven't particularly made the easiest dormmate but I would like to change that if you would accept my apology." Despite the strangeness of the interaction the small flutter of hope grew in his heart as he held his hand in front of the other. If he could make it up to Hans then there was possibility that he was not too far gone, that he wouldn't forever be covered in the dark shadow of his familial name. Today was a day for fresh starts and Nikolai owed it to himself to explore who he really was.

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen, all thoughts in German and dialogue in mildly accented Russian unless otherwise stated, some words may not line up and in that case assume they are the equivalent

Out of all the things that could have happened in Nikolai Volkov's spring holiday, Hans had not been expecting eviction as the answer and out of all the things a parent could do to a child, he had not been expecting eviction at the juvenile age of thirteen. Put into context, his local sports club (damn them) did not even allow anyone under thirteen to participate. More vexingly and much more importantly, his distasteful parents stood headstrong in their stance against Hans' adoption into Opa¹'s proper pureblood household (for as he had been told, that was the true home meant for him; his birth into the Jenssen family had only been a mistake in the threads of fate, after all), despite their obvious disdain and phobia of magic. Yet, unlike Nikolai, the Schafer heir was not keen on sharing his personal life just to advance in social relations.

At Nikolai's chosen adjective for his answer, Hans merely scoffed at the versatile "transformative", as well as the smile - devious, perhaps, or mischievous, though both seemed uncharacteristic for Nikolai - that accompanied it. In his experience, it was usually utilised unnecessarily in occasions that simply changed someone's life in the slightest of aspects. Well, little did he know what his dorm mate was about to share, though. Curiously, he turned his back to Hans, which was eventually provoking enough for him to sit straighter and turn himself towards the Russian wizard, comic book still clutched in his hands, despite the fairly uninteresting content. As he turned back, Hans was greeted with a smirk and a laugh, both of which he did not return, other than staring at him, deadpan. Such was a thing normally granted towards his friends, or at least associates for that matter, and he was not at all regretful to say that Nikolai was neither of the two and of his own choice. 'I believe this is my official eviction notice,' Nikolai said finally as his laughter died down - laughter which Hans was failing to understand, unlike the previous statement on "transformative", which now seemed more evident than ever.

'The fuck?' he said in his native tongue, for that was what first came to him in any moment of surprise, disgust, or any of the like, and if it happened to be cursing, so be it. The blasted situation deserved nothing else but that and a scowl, which soon graced his features; though lightly, it was still visible. Taking a moment to make eye contact (God, when had they done that last?), he finally shook his head, 'Man, you've got yourself into some deep shit.' Laughing, only for reason of having no idea what else to do, he stood up, stretching as he did, hands extending over his golden brown hair as he arched his back, the comic book dropping to the ground, 'Have fun searching for flats in Russia I guess.' What more did Nikolai want Hans to say? What more could he? He wasn't exactly in a position to give advice, after all. After half-comprehending Nikolai's "eviction", his eyes were drawn to the stack of books his schoolmate held up, and his ears to the second half of his speech, 'I have to give it to my parents, what they lack in tact they make up for in graceful wrapping.' Snickering at that, which significantly lightened the mood, 'Credit where credit's due, as they say. At least they had the decency to make it nice and pretty,' and finally with a chuckle, 'I don't think my parents even know how to do that.'

The drop of the books onto Nikolai's bed was the final reverberant sound Hans would hear in this dorm today. As the matter of his eviction seemed to pass (though Hans was still not entirely certain how his dorm mate was dealing with the matter with such indifferance), a deafening silence hung over the air. Yet just as he was about to pick up his comic book and put a swift end to the awkwardness, the Russian heir, or truly, ex-heir, made his way over to the German lad, sticking out a hand. 'I know this is long overdue and I haven't particularly made the easiest dormmate but I would like to change that if you would accept my apology.' Damnit, Hans wasn't hoping to get deep today on such a careless, joyful, innocent event as the return of his friends - friends, which he never barred Nikolai from identifying himself a member of. He allowed Nikolai to stand in front of him, hand still stretched out, for a good few seconds before replying, voice quieter than his usual boisterousness, 'That's quite the understatement.'

Gently was an adjective not usually associated with Hans, but gently was exactly how he pushed down Nikolai's eager hand. 'It seems like old habits die hard,' he said, a grin parting his lips as he looked into Nikolai's piercing electric blue eyes, 'Only boring old pure-bloods do handshakes.'

1: Grandpa

@Matthew Campbell as Nikolai Volkov

Edit: noticed the new hex code I'm using is super similar to Nikolai so if it ever gets confusing or anything feel free to tell me

It was impossible to resist the childlike giggle that tickled the depths of his stomach at the use of Hans' colourful language. Nikolai's parents would have flogged him alive for such improper etiquette and yet as it parted the boys lips he was rather sure he would welcome the change of his vocabulary with open arms. Jenssen was the typical boisterous teen and void of the shackles of pureblood tradition came with a certain level of freedom Nikolai had always resented. Now free of such bonds it was becoming startlingly clear that what was perceived as resentment was truly jealously. All year the boy was able to parade about able to choose his friends, his path in life and know that he was accepted. The snowflake of realisation was tumbling quickly into a flourishing snowball unravelling his true emotions on his dormmate and understanding the unfairness of his treatment. Nikolai pushed him away for no fault of his own and it was about time he repaired that.

As he found himself stretching out his hand the flicker of hope began to dim while the boy stared at him in deafening silence. What was but a few moments felt unbearable, it was clear transformation would not be as simple as he hoped but nothing worth doing was easy. Nikolai had to resist the urge to retract his hand and throw some sarcastic comment towards the boy but holding strong he defied his past defences. The break had done well to bulldoze the walls he had built around himself but the bricks still remained and the walls weren't as easy to tear down as he had hoped. Resistance persisted as the boys words dug in, piercing the hopeful flutters of his heart and clouding their judgement "That's quite the understatement" Yet he had no argument for defence and he knew it. Hans was well within his rights to turn his back on him like everyone else, a twang of pained confusion possessed him as he felt he would be more hurt from this rejection than his families. Was he really that indifferent to them or was it just spite, did it even matter?

Just as the flickers of hope's candle were about to extinguish he felt a softness grace the top of his hand and with desperately seeking eyes he found the warm grin of Hans lifting him through the haze of despair. It was clear their was a deliberant nature to the boys gentle touch and it unleashed a warmth of comfort in Nikolai as the union of their eyes created a storm of piercing blue electricity wrapped up in the endless umber pools deep as earth and warm as molten caramel. The spark of his eyes transferred momentarily to his hand as he swore he felt a spark dance in the distance between their palms. It was likely just a trick of the imagination caused by a momentary lapse in judgement, he simply wasn't used to holding eye contact with anyone let alone Hans and certainly not this close in perimeter. Not to mention the confusing paradox of the previous nights events when he kissed a boy for the first time, hormones were simply getting the better of him he reasoned.

Coughing gently he attempted to cover the flush that ran through him and laughed along with the boy in his remark. Old-fashioned was exactly how the boy felt, trapped in the traditions and rituals that had been forced upon him he wanted to shape his own ideals and discover his way in the world anew. The thrill of education was always stimulating to the boy but he had been relatively sheltered from the customs of his fellow Durmstrang students and suddenly he had been presented with moment to educate himself so he clung on with both hands. A similar grin matching Hans own quirked at the corner of his mouth, "You're quite right, I'm afraid it's all I know but as they are to be done with me I am to be done with them. How is it you half-bloods go about it?" Unlike certain pureblood purists Nikolai gave no notion to care on blood as was clear in his friendly intonation of the word when he addressed Hans. If anyone knew that a wizard was not the sum of his family it was Nikolai.

Awaiting his response an idea began to ignite a flame in the boys soul. The phrase "boring old purebloods" reverberating around his skull firing every cylinder in his brain in an eternal lightning storm of creativity it came to fruition. Surrounding them were some of the most precious things he owned but for the most part it was simply remnants of a life he did not own let alone want. So continuing to stare into Hans rich soulful eyes his grin became a full scheming smile as he said, devilish intent colouring his tone, "Don't suppose you enjoy a bonfire?"

magnificent banner by Valentin Schnell

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

Casting a sidelong glance at the Russian as he failed at suppressing a giggle, Hans raised his eyebrows curiously, as if to convey “Are you quite alright, friend?” His dorm mate's sudden titter aroused a satisfaction within Hans which he never knew existed. Now with Nikolai’s self-isolating marble facade that he had so carefully carved shattered into a million pieces and scattered into the mess of what remained of his life, lying on the carpeted floor jejunely, his naked, innocent boyhood shone through like the moon on a clouded night. He had broken free from the chains that held both his heart and potential down in the hands of his pure blood household, found liberty in the wintery expanse of Durmstrang’s grounds, and such a trait was one Hans could not help but credit him for, for after all, rebels and revolutionaries were forces he dealt best in.

As the initial tension faded away after Nikolai’s strikingly purposeful cough, soon an odd, completely novel sound filled the room, yet just as mundane as it was unexpected. It occurred to Hans that he had never heard the boy laugh before and somehow a sound common as snow at the institute sounded completely foreign out of his mouth, that thin strip of dull red. Perhaps what was more surprising was, despite Hans having directly pushed down his enthusiastic hand, they simply sprang up again like the stubborn cattails that persevered against the wind. Both his hands now clutched at Hans, a determined climber at the edge of a boulder ready to pull himself over, if only with the right pull in the other end. ‘You're quite right, ’ he said, a smile that mirrored the one on Hans’ lips now spreading on his, ‘I'm afraid it's all I know but as they are to be done with me I am to be done with them. How is it you half-bloods go about it?’

While extracting himself from the grips of Nikolai, Hans chuckled again, which, at least to his ears, sounded much more natural than Nikolai’s prior laugh. ‘Well, here’s for sure, you don’t just go up to a boy you barely know,’ he started, pointedly stressing “barely”. It was almost ridiculous that the boy he should have been closest friends and comrades with was almost like a stranger to him. Yet with everyone else at his back, it had never been much of a bother, so in truth, Nikolai’s loss. ‘And grab onto his hands, because, surprise surprise, that is just as improper in the Muggle world as it is in the pure-blood world.’ While there was no detected malice in Nikolai’s tone regarding Hans’ blood stays, it was no topic he was enjoyed delving too deep into his blood status. There was nothing he found primarily wrong with being a half-blood, yet his family was simply a burden for him, a chain as much as Nikolai's if not just softer holding him back from the true extent of his power as a wizard. What he did not process, in regards to his mother, is why, after witnessing herself fail, she had not stepped up to ensure his son did nothing of the similar. Thankfully, Otto, perhaps the only adult he truly and deeply respected and even to an extent, truly and deeply loved, had been the one to expose him to all that he could be and even more he was ecstatic to uncover.

It was Nikolai's devilish remark, however, that pulled him back into the present, Durmstrang Institute, free from his vexing parents, 'Don't suppose you enjoy a bonfire?' Raising his brows, this time out of mischief, Hans returned his dorm mate's rascally smile and in the same tone, answered, 'Enjoy? That too, would be quite the understatement.'

@Matthew Campbell as Nikolai Vol'ka

There was something so intoxicatingly wonderous about Hans that Nikolai wondered how he had gone 2 years without noticing it. Everything about the boy from the mischievous guise his face took on as his eyebrows quirked to that laugh that filled Durmstrang's cold interior with the growing warmth of spring. He was light and fun and everything that Nikolai had never dreamed he would be able to be so given the opportunity to learn he had no choice but to do everything in his power to pursue. Plus if that meant spending more time with Hans he supposed there were worse fates.

There was an almost certainty that Nikolai hadn't meant to let his hands linger in the other's athletic grasp but he suppose he simply forgot to let go. Easier to think that than believe that his body was betraying him relishing for something he knew was simply a whim of delusional imagination. So as Hans pulled away he removed them from the equation pinning them behind his back preventing them from adding further complications. In the interim there was a moment where it seemed Nikolai had lost Hans to the world inside his head but upon hearing his scheme the glint of passion fired in the boys eyes and between them formed a connection of spirit. The silent roar of trouble filled the gap between them and played merrily between the twin pair of mischievous eyes and roguish smiles.

Hans needn't even have answered for his response to be understood by the Russian and in the moment Nikolai wondered if they shared more in common than he had let himself believe. Then again no one in Durmstrang had been permitted to see that side of Nikolai, the side of growing up with 4 elder brothers who thrived off of the chaos of antagonising their parents. Wondering if they would ever be close enough for Hans to really see the true inner depths that Nikolai hid away he began swiftly moving towards the boxes and searching for the sophisticated calligraphy of одежда clothes. It took him mere minutes to find them and seconds more to create a pile on the floor that would prove as perfect kindling for the bonfire of his life.

Smile growing wider by the minute he pointed towards some other boxes and with the sound of his laughter reverberating off the walls he said "Grab whatever you can, I have no use for any of it but feel free to keep whatever you like. Today a dragon is born anew." Mind adrift he thought back to the weeks prior when Valentin had blessed him with yet another cherished nickname дракоша моя my little dragon it was who he was supposed to become. No longer a lone wolf shackled to the confines of the ground he was learning to soar. Turning back towards Hans his devilry bordered on full insanity, "We really ought to do this outside but it feels rather like a cleanse of the space too, perhaps in the ashes of the flame this cold space can become something more. The place it always should have been for us." Drawing out his wand with such haste and precision it was evident to anyone that witnessed that the boy was a natural duellist he envisioned the pile of clothes alight and without permission or hesitation began casting.

Moving his wand right at a 45 degree angle then back down at a similar angle before curving it back to the left and then finally curving once more, creating a kind of large hook shape he incanted the spell "Lacarnum Inflamari" A hot red streak of fire erupted from his wand and shot straight towards the fragmented chapters that filled the book of his old life. The clothes of someone that once seemed to have so much power of him but as the flames began to erupt and consume that version of himself perished leaving only ash and a fresh smell of burning fabric. The heat from the fire pranced across his skin leaving goosebumps in their wake as a feeling of immense freedom burned from within.

For a moment he could do nothing but lose himself entranced by the wild flames that illuminated streaks of light throughout the room. Deep within he was sure he could see the face of his father, fire was destruction as much as it was beauty, it provided death and life in equal measures and never calmed enough to achieve true control over it. It was the very essence of free nature and as he watched his father's face grow smaller, engulfed in flame and smoke he removed himself from the burden of the man's control. Then quite suddenly he turned to watch Hans hoping he didn't think him quite mad, though perhaps he was. Regardless he would drop the giddy gleeful smile and take on one more genuine and hinting of a gratitude he knew he could never express, "Thank you for being with me for this, you would've been a great friend to have known all this time, perhaps greater even than I deserve." Firelight gilding his hair and face with a goldish sheen that warmed even the coldest of his features he gestured towards the fire making sure Hans was clear that he was serious. Anything the boy wished to sacrifice to the flame would be permitted, perhaps except for Nikolai himself though he couldn't blame his dormmate if the idea crossed his mind.

Perhaps not a dragon, as his partner in arson so aptly dismissed, was born today but a friendship was forged in those fires, one that seemed would change both of the young Durmstrang students lives' forever. In just one afternoon they had gone from being ghosts in each others lives forced to co-exist to a most chaotic partnership, boys who once crept silently around the other were now throwing quips and getting drunk of the intoxicating sound of laughter that roared far greater than the fire itself.

Unsurprisingly, given his popularity, Hans was quite the charmer to be around. His capability to look beyond their past and dive headfirst into revelry with his new companion was masterful and set about him a tone of honour and integrity that Nikolai knew very little of. For being a Volkov was not based on such foundations. It was evident that he had a grand deal to learn from the boy and he smiled along with eyes wide in wonderment as he was put through his first lesson in nonmagi education. It was pointless to resist the beaming smile that broke out across his face at the opportunity of this knowledge as truly it was one of the things that intrigued him most in the world. Having been forbidden on countless occasions to socialise with the nonmagi he had only learned what little he could gleam from the American film and television he watched when sneaking out into St Petersburg. As the joy of it overcame him his memory took him back through time to the same room only without the flames of renewal.

Nikolai found himself a boy of only 10 entering his dormitory from the first time. A flash of himself in the mirror gave insight into the coldness he wore even then, a frost born from years of poor treatment. Despite the cold their was a smile that broke the corner of his lips and he recalled the moment his eyes first lay on Hans, similarly younger and significantly smaller than the frame he possessed today his chestnut hair was more unkept than his modern stylish cut. Back then Hans' eyes had washed over him as mesmerising pools of excitement and warmth, his laugh was the only thing that hadn't changed as even then it lit up the room with a bursting colour. Nikolai had never realised how much the sound pleased him until today when he got to relish in joining him in it.

As the memory continued Hans disappeared and along with him so did colour, the room growing dark and uncomfortable. The presence of a man lingering in shadow filled the doorway a harsh Russian accent piercing through Nikolai's fearless defences forcing him to cower under the power of it, "What a disappointment, considered to be on the same level as a half-blood. You really are a plague on this family. Don't disgrace us even further by befriending that boy, then again I doubt it's a worry I have to make. Who would want to be friends with a cursed wretch of a boy like you. We shall see you next summer, don't bother returning for Christmas if your grades aren't beyond exemplary." The memory was just one of many that displayed his father's callousness, but unlike the majority Nikolai hadn't remembered it. He supposed subconsciously the words had rooted into his mind given that for two long years he isolated himself from everyone, afraid to be seen, afraid to prove his father right, afraid that Hans would see him in that same light.

With a red flash from the boys wand further flames were added to the room as Incendio raptured through the belongings and burnt away the darkness infecting his mind. Hans' encouraging words led him safely out of the memory, back to the present where their eyes met and a curiosity lingered between them as Hans raised his hand. Noticing the confusion that shone in his ocean eyes Hans expertly taught him his second lesson of the day and tentatively approaching the boy he raised his hand in a similar gesture and smacked it with a resounding clap of perfection. As their hands met the words of his father replayed in his head once more, but now with the flame behind him and the even deeper warmth of Hans' smile all power the words held died down. As he watched the vision of his father grow smaller and smaller in the flames he was unable to resist the urge to steer the conversation into deeper waters.

Refusing to meet his gaze he couldn't be sure how Hans had taken the compliment, with the revelation of the memory the words were completely genuine and so he hoped they would be taken in their sincerity but looking was too daunting a task. Luckily for him the soft pat of a hand found his back and along with it came the, oh so common, cocky voice of his companion that he wore with pride. 'I wouldn't be surprised if I am.' Despite the comic nature of the response the words stung a little, given the circumstance Hans couldn't have possibly known for they had barely shared words until this afternoon let alone memories but for a second the dark visage of his father wormed its way back into the flames determined to linger there. However, once again Hans would come to his rescue and seize the spirit from retaining its grasp on him forcing a laugh out that eased the pain. Perhaps the boy had a future in interior design as the curtains truly were an eyesore that could only have been improved by burning. Watching the curtain catch alight was one of the most beautiful things Nikolai had ever seen. The way it spiralled up the fabric leaving behind nothing but shreds of ash that floated through the air like fireflies was utterly enrapturing.

Unfortunately distraction came into focus stealing his gaze from the fiery storm as smoke began to creep into the air. While its effect only added to the aura of flaming chaos enchanting him to the new room décor his lungs were not as pleased with its smoky haze. Lightly coughing he ran over to the largest of their windows, circular with a small ledge one could perch upon that overlooked the deep forest and mountains of the arctic expanse that surrounded the institute it was the only part of the room he hadn't despised these last years. Swinging it open the blast of cool spring air breathed life back into his body and allowed the smoke to escape into the outer air allowing the blaze to continue without the young dragons catching their death. After all, whoever heard of a dragon dying from fire.

Looking towards Hans he gestured to the window saying, "Come and get some air, can't have you dying when our bonfire is barely started its prime." There was a boisterous smile lining his features that spoke to the fun and mischief he was having. A face usually so contorted with hurt or steeled emotionless was now light with the pure blessing of happiness. Laughing heartily he waited for the boy to breathe in the bitter air and sat perched watching the fire blaze on, "We probably should have done this outside huh? Wouldn't have been half as fun though and we would've had to suffer those curtains for another day." Watching the hellscape of fire tear at the stone masonry and leave behind smudges of ash on the walls a devilish glint flashed in his electric eyes now charged in a lightning storm.

"Well, in for a penny, in for a pound!" Having cleared his airways it was back to pyromania, so pushing over boxes he began recklessly adding fuel to the flames that reached higher in approval of the sacrifice. The act became almost akin to a dance as the flames sought after wherever he pushed in more kindling and he moved to avoid them with grace and a great deal of speed Hans had likely never seen before. Just as he was about to push in another box something golden glinted reflecting the orange and red sparks of flame and catching his eyes. As he reached in he found a small golden box that within kept the Volkov signet ring. Why they had chosen to send it to him they had no idea, but Nikolai was no longer a Volkov he was Vol'ka and so with a determination built from years of supressed anger he threw it directly into the heart of the fire to burn along with the name itself.

Suddenly the flames convulsed in black flame with a screaming pierce of suffering ringing out. It took a minute for his brain to process what had happened but eventually he understood. "Holy дерьмо" Shit" Someone in his family had put a curse on it, and a particularly nasty one if the screams were to be believed. If there had ever been more clear evidence of his parents despisal of him the flames had revealed it but instead of hurt the notion only brought clarity. Nikolai had given up a family that sought him harm for one that thought only of his dreams and supported him. A family that he hoped in time Hans would grow to be a part of. Unlike himself Hans didn't grow up with dark magic and he wasn't sure if he would even understand what had happened so turning he said with a resentment in his tone though slightly giggling at the mimicry of his ally, "Volkov Lessons One; Don't ever be foolish enough to think you can escape them."

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

Fire was beautiful. Her fatality only spoke in her glorious favour. Fittingly, it seemed as if the brutal slaughter of the past Volkov heir was on her mind.

Grinning in content as Nikolai returned the gesture of brotherhood, thrills ran through his blood at a relationship so swiftly formed. Whatever disappointment his family must have carried on him that led to his abandonment from the Volkov name, all Hans felt was pride. Patting him on the back, he said to the blond, 'Well, seems like you're a quick learner.' He had not met Hans' eyes, and out of what reason he could not seemed to have fathomed, but still caught up in their delicious act of arson, the German had barely noticed.

So joining Nikolai at his perch on the windows and away from the increasing smoke, Hans elbowed the blond playfully towards the open air as he took his own seat. 'Life lesson number one, Nikolai,' he said in mimicry of the "Muggle lessons" before, as if making some sort of grand announcement fit for royalty themselves. Continuing with the shake of his head, 'Letting in the cold air defeats the purpose of a fireplace.' Despite this, Hans himself leaned towards the bitterly clean Spring air, for then again, fireplaces were meant to have chimneys, no? Sitting up slightly and following the Russian's eyes as they swept over the fire now eating away at anything flammable, leaving smudges of ash on all that were not, Hans said, voice droll, 'Now, tell me if I should become an interior designer or not, because this decor is looking so much better than whatever we had before.' In the continuation of the joke before, he laughed, 'Maybe we really should pitch this to the headmistress, hm?' Flashing Nikolai a look nothing less than exhilaration, he jumped down from the resting place after he had caught his fair share of fresh air.

"Well, in for a penny, in for a pound!" Nikolai said as both boys sprung into action once more, adding more items to the spreading bonfire in their pyromania. Never had Hans seen him do anything with such zeal but, by all means, he was glad for his newfound ally, this stranger that had so suddenly been pulled into a friendship with him, burning as keenly as the fire itself. 'Hell,' he said, laughter more vibrant than the raving inferno. 'I'm not just in for a pound. I'd want the whole Volkov fortune by now!' Catching his eye as Nikolai threw a small unidentified object to join as fuel, Hans was greeted with an unpleasant dose of surprise as the flames convulsed into the colour of Durmstrang's moonless nights, accompanied a piercing and very much unwelcome screech akin to that of a maniacal banshee. Turning his gaze onto Nikolai, his eyes awaited answers expectantly as the boy cursed, saying nothing as his composure was somehow still kept in check. Just another day at Durmstrang, right?

'Escape?' Hans eventually said in reply to Nikolai's remark, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, tone still kept perfectly casual despite the flames now raging dark as coal. 'I thought they kicked you out, he continued, grinning devilishly, the whole situation still seeming to be a jesting matter, 'Or was it mutual?' Yet despite Nikolai's attempts to suppress his giggles at his imitation of the German, the underlying tone of resentment told a much different story. As their eyes met each others, Hans' coffee hued irises seemed to harden as it was greeted with the piercing blue crackling with electricity charged to the full. His fists clenched around his wand, sturdy wood digging into his tightened hand. The "devil" that used to grace his smiles now graced his heart. Don't ever be foolish enough to think you can escape them, Nikolai had said. Watch him prove him utterly and entirely wrong, Hans thought, scoffing at the Russian's wrods, eyes surely revealing his mind even though he said nothing at it. A brief silence only cut through by the cursed wailing enveloped the duo, the calm before the storm to end all storms. Reeling back, Hans drew his wand once more, despite having completely no understanding of the situation. Though his own flames were yet to be cultivated, whatever well-concealed shock would make way for a less well-concealed and faster catching bile. He then said with much more vigour than the Incendio before, enchantment reverberating in the stone room, as he raised his voice against the wailing, 'Finite Incantatem.' Taking a few steps back, Hans watched in satisfaction as the flames spluttered and dwindled, posture now turned inward towards the blond in anticipation.

Nikolai may not be able to escape his past today, but they would burn whatever they could, just as they had attempted to burn down him. And spoiler warning: they had failed terribly.

@Matthew Campbell as Nikolai