seven for a secret
Location: Frankfurt am Main, Germany
Dated: 20 December 2025.Sender: Johannes Sauer
Recipient: @Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky
Description:
[Unlike the nearly-blank envelopes of Johannes's Durmstrang days, where any confidential information found itself safely distributed around the castle walls through the Hellhound's extensive letter-passing scheme, this letter needed to take the long route. Postmarked nearly a week before arrival and quietly sorted out of the standard international system by magical hands, the only difference between this handwritten letter and presumably many in the Forberg-Preobrazhensky household's mailbox would be the lingering illegibility charm cast upon its contents.
Translated from its original Russian, counter-spelled:]
Reducio
Slava,
Hope the post-graduate life hasn’t frozen you or your family over this holiday season. How’ve you been, friend? If you’re surprised by this letter in the mail (it’s too inconvenient to find an owl), don’t worry, I wouldn’t blame you. If you can believe it, I got peer-pressured at work to write Christmas letters (I know), and I figured it'd been quite a while since we’ve really caught up. It feels like even longer since I've seen you at all. What’s new? Any fun bartending stories to share? Remind me of your pub’s name again, and I’ll try to drop by next time I’m in the area.
You already know this, but I’ve been working towards healer and auror programs. ZBMed’s nice, and it's been fine to me—more anatomical models and spreadsheeting than you’d think. Say, did you know that muggles have words and treatments for nearly every part of the body? You’d theoretically know more if you’d seen medical dramas and stuff... yet I assume a standard pureblood radio isn't translating The Pitt (you don't need to know what this is) into a podcast. I'm still trying to find out if there’s an X-raying spell... and instead of a blood-replenishing potion, get this: Muggle doctors are meant to hook you up to a tubed bag of blood with a needle in your veins, but only types your body can handle. Or else your immune system might reject it, and the whole thing's useless, if not worse, than what you started with. The entire procedure's somewhat slower, and while some things seem simpler without magic's needless rules and restrictions, this one is not one of them, trust me. Though I've been trying to cover my bases and combine mundane with magic, I haven't quite experimented with transfusions yet. Poring through technical explanations tempts me towards further research only when the situation calls for it (this shit can be dangerous, bro), and I've fortunately not been bleeding out enough to necessitate hands-on intervention. For the holidays' sake, let’s hope that trend stays true into the new year.
Okay, that's enough of that, even if it's kinda really basic-level stuff. Lecture aside, you can clearly see the type of content I'm reading up on before I embarrass myself in proper training programs. Shelving books and taking calls isn't real work like yours, but it pays, and the library gives me a good place to study. That's all I can really ask for right now.
Working in Cologne also means that I’ve been hopping around from Frankfurt more often than any normal person ought to, so you’ll have to tell me if you ever want to visit. I recommend the Christmas markets here (don’t go on a weekend, it’s v crowded), but there’s plenty of stuff to do with just you and Niche if you’re tired of the commute. I won’t mind, really.
Honestly, life’s been a little boring recently. At least compared to the usual shenanigans, and maybe that’s an unfair comparison because boring is nice sometimes, and perhaps things are gearing up for something bigger and better, but it's true. At least anything even close to “boring” automatically means it’s a hell of a lot safer than anything Durmstrang would have thrown at us. Obviously, I realised how legitimately lethal things were at the time, but the full extent of it didn’t really hit until we graduated. How the hell did our founders see literal primary-school kids and go, ‘ah yes, our hazing ritual should involve winter wilderness survival' ?? Shit, just living and working out of that bubble really puts everything into context. I look around at all of these people coming into the library—some overly nosy and others armed with absolutely brilliant ideas, but most of them nonetheless Muggle as hell—and really wonder. I know you always grew up more pureblood than I did, so you probably won’t relate much, but it’s like a taste of the other side. Of what was robbed, or maybe just exchanged. I can’t imagine what kind of person any of us could have been had we never gone to Durmstrang so early. The Institute felt so intense and all-encompassing all the time that being free of it still messes with me sometimes. People ask me all the time about which universities I'm applying to, or what I want to do with my life, or even my opinion on the fucking weather. Like, yes, it’s getting cold, but we probably won’t have a “white Christmas”; we never do. It's the epitome of mundaneness, I tell you. And while I kind of have an idea of my future career, and I guess people our age are also in the thick of it all, too, and people are just being curious, it's all so fucking normal that I can't just admit the abnormal truth.
I miss it all sometimes, you know, in the weird half-remembered way you miss any terribly wonderful and kind-of dark time in your life. It isn’t the wizard shit (I’m sure if I look hard enough, I can get that same hit of magical danger anywhere in the wizarding world, and I mean to start internships by September, so this muggle estrangement is faaar from permanent) but the feeling of always having each other’s back. For all of the forging through fire, I wouldn’t have traded that fucked-up sense of community for anything. It’s so weird. A significant portion of my international connections still ties directly back to our school days, which I admit is on purpose, but I haven’t been able to keep up with anyone decent since graduation. We left Durmstrang, and at least for the Horntails and me, it was like, that was it. You're gone, and you're never going back. And as for everything else…? Well, I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know it will, because you can only spend so long untangled from the web before the strings go taut again. But like, writing about this now, it’s a little bullshit to think about, isn’t it? I like being an adult. It’s fun to play pretend, even for a little while.
I can’t pass by a single craft store or card aisle without thinking of you, by the way. Since the months have passed, I've even managed to quarantine my contaminated clothes from the rest, but it's probably a doomed pursuit... Shit, there are so many things I want to show you, and never enough scheduling time in the world. If magic didn’t render every wizard technologically illiterate, maybe I would have gotten you a phone for Christmas—it would probably make things a lot more efficient to communicate with people for the 4 minutes it’d take before the ambient magic off of someone else’s spellwork fucks it over. I’m telling you, I got the best coffee the other day, but could only talk about it to a few people before the whole hype blew over. Marking 'places to go' is not the same as actually going to them with other people. Come here sometime and I promise I won't even complain about Niche lingering ominously behind you!
Okay, my break's nearly up. Letter written maybe a bit too long, point made: hello, it’s been a while, I’m somehow still alive, and I hope things are going well for you. Wishing you two a great holiday season! Hopefully, you two aren’t getting too much FOMO with all of this Christmas talk when the 25th will probably be just another day. Look after yourself, will you? Let’s hang out more next year, if the world can manage the two of us in the same vicinity again.
All the best,
Hanya
P.S. Expect another letter in the mail later in the month—I know that Russia celebrates Christmas in January, but I’ve already nailed down your gift. And if you throw either this letter or that one away, thinking it's spam mail or something, know that I'll haunt your mailbox.
P.S.S. pls pet your dog for me thanks
Hope the post-graduate life hasn’t frozen you or your family over this holiday season. How’ve you been, friend? If you’re surprised by this letter in the mail (it’s too inconvenient to find an owl), don’t worry, I wouldn’t blame you. If you can believe it, I got peer-pressured at work to write Christmas letters (I know), and I figured it'd been quite a while since we’ve really caught up. It feels like even longer since I've seen you at all. What’s new? Any fun bartending stories to share? Remind me of your pub’s name again, and I’ll try to drop by next time I’m in the area.
You already know this, but I’ve been working towards healer and auror programs. ZBMed’s nice, and it's been fine to me—more anatomical models and spreadsheeting than you’d think. Say, did you know that muggles have words and treatments for nearly every part of the body? You’d theoretically know more if you’d seen medical dramas and stuff... yet I assume a standard pureblood radio isn't translating The Pitt (you don't need to know what this is) into a podcast. I'm still trying to find out if there’s an X-raying spell... and instead of a blood-replenishing potion, get this: Muggle doctors are meant to hook you up to a tubed bag of blood with a needle in your veins, but only types your body can handle. Or else your immune system might reject it, and the whole thing's useless, if not worse, than what you started with. The entire procedure's somewhat slower, and while some things seem simpler without magic's needless rules and restrictions, this one is not one of them, trust me. Though I've been trying to cover my bases and combine mundane with magic, I haven't quite experimented with transfusions yet. Poring through technical explanations tempts me towards further research only when the situation calls for it (this shit can be dangerous, bro), and I've fortunately not been bleeding out enough to necessitate hands-on intervention. For the holidays' sake, let’s hope that trend stays true into the new year.
Okay, that's enough of that, even if it's kinda really basic-level stuff. Lecture aside, you can clearly see the type of content I'm reading up on before I embarrass myself in proper training programs. Shelving books and taking calls isn't real work like yours, but it pays, and the library gives me a good place to study. That's all I can really ask for right now.
Working in Cologne also means that I’ve been hopping around from Frankfurt more often than any normal person ought to, so you’ll have to tell me if you ever want to visit. I recommend the Christmas markets here (don’t go on a weekend, it’s v crowded), but there’s plenty of stuff to do with just you and Niche if you’re tired of the commute. I won’t mind, really.
Honestly, life’s been a little boring recently. At least compared to the usual shenanigans, and maybe that’s an unfair comparison because boring is nice sometimes, and perhaps things are gearing up for something bigger and better, but it's true. At least anything even close to “boring” automatically means it’s a hell of a lot safer than anything Durmstrang would have thrown at us. Obviously, I realised how legitimately lethal things were at the time, but the full extent of it didn’t really hit until we graduated. How the hell did our founders see literal primary-school kids and go, ‘ah yes, our hazing ritual should involve winter wilderness survival' ?? Shit, just living and working out of that bubble really puts everything into context. I look around at all of these people coming into the library—some overly nosy and others armed with absolutely brilliant ideas, but most of them nonetheless Muggle as hell—and really wonder. I know you always grew up more pureblood than I did, so you probably won’t relate much, but it’s like a taste of the other side. Of what was robbed, or maybe just exchanged. I can’t imagine what kind of person any of us could have been had we never gone to Durmstrang so early. The Institute felt so intense and all-encompassing all the time that being free of it still messes with me sometimes. People ask me all the time about which universities I'm applying to, or what I want to do with my life, or even my opinion on the fucking weather. Like, yes, it’s getting cold, but we probably won’t have a “white Christmas”; we never do. It's the epitome of mundaneness, I tell you. And while I kind of have an idea of my future career, and I guess people our age are also in the thick of it all, too, and people are just being curious, it's all so fucking normal that I can't just admit the abnormal truth.
I miss it all sometimes, you know, in the weird half-remembered way you miss any terribly wonderful and kind-of dark time in your life. It isn’t the wizard shit (I’m sure if I look hard enough, I can get that same hit of magical danger anywhere in the wizarding world, and I mean to start internships by September, so this muggle estrangement is faaar from permanent) but the feeling of always having each other’s back. For all of the forging through fire, I wouldn’t have traded that fucked-up sense of community for anything. It’s so weird. A significant portion of my international connections still ties directly back to our school days, which I admit is on purpose, but I haven’t been able to keep up with anyone decent since graduation. We left Durmstrang, and at least for the Horntails and me, it was like, that was it. You're gone, and you're never going back. And as for everything else…? Well, I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know it will, because you can only spend so long untangled from the web before the strings go taut again. But like, writing about this now, it’s a little bullshit to think about, isn’t it? I like being an adult. It’s fun to play pretend, even for a little while.
I can’t pass by a single craft store or card aisle without thinking of you, by the way. Since the months have passed, I've even managed to quarantine my contaminated clothes from the rest, but it's probably a doomed pursuit... Shit, there are so many things I want to show you, and never enough scheduling time in the world. If magic didn’t render every wizard technologically illiterate, maybe I would have gotten you a phone for Christmas—it would probably make things a lot more efficient to communicate with people for the 4 minutes it’d take before the ambient magic off of someone else’s spellwork fucks it over. I’m telling you, I got the best coffee the other day, but could only talk about it to a few people before the whole hype blew over. Marking 'places to go' is not the same as actually going to them with other people. Come here sometime and I promise I won't even complain about Niche lingering ominously behind you!
Okay, my break's nearly up. Letter written maybe a bit too long, point made: hello, it’s been a while, I’m somehow still alive, and I hope things are going well for you. Wishing you two a great holiday season! Hopefully, you two aren’t getting too much FOMO with all of this Christmas talk when the 25th will probably be just another day. Look after yourself, will you? Let’s hang out more next year, if the world can manage the two of us in the same vicinity again.
All the best,
Hanya
P.S. Expect another letter in the mail later in the month—I know that Russia celebrates Christmas in January, but I’ve already nailed down your gift. And if you throw either this letter or that one away, thinking it's spam mail or something, know that I'll haunt your mailbox.
P.S.S. pls pet your dog for me thanks
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