Menagerie PV Ruby Cazares's iNPC Closed

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Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky

It was a sunny Tuesday and Slava’s face was alight with joy. What was there to be upset about when the world seemed so happy and friendly? He was at Hogwarts—not his own school, but one he was growing increasingly familiar with as he had visited numerous times by now. But here, he could talk to people he normally didn't get to see, and reconnect with friends he had made from previous visits. It was nice to occasionally have a change of scenery and leave behind the frigid grounds of Durmstrang, despite loving his school and its students dearly.

He whistled as he made his way through the halls, no particular destination in mind, hoping to meet someone interesting or mess with them if they weren’t. Eventually, he came to an area where a grumpy-looking girl was eyeing another girl, and as he got closer, going the other way, he heard the grumpy one call the other a mudblood. “Woah. What did you say?” he asked, staring at her, daring her to repeat herself. He was sure that she would, all the blood purists were like that—foolishly arrogant, reassuring themselves that they were superior, when really they were the scum.

Disapproval was clear in the sixteen-year-old’s eyes, a wary disdain that was not often offered to people, as the boy normally had a sunny, friendly disposition. It was easy to make friends with him, hard to become an enemy—unless you hurt his friends or family. And while this girl had not yet made her way to enemy territory, as that would place far too much importance on someone who did not truly deserve his time, she was certainly entering the "disliked" range. While he didn't need everybody to be nice, he didn't like bullies—more specifically, supremacists. There was no space for that hate in the world. It just wasn’t necessary, especially based off of something as uncontrollable and unimportant as blood. Hate someone for their behavior, sure, but not immutable characteristics out of their control. This girl was, so far, entirely unimpressive.

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April 18th, 2023

Colour: #2b2f69. Word Count: 232.

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Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky

“Why do you care?” came the irritating reply. “Because it is stupid and racist?” he responded, eyebrows raised. His Russian accent was plenty audible, it wouldn’t be hard for the girl to figure out that he was from either Durmstrang or Koldovstoretz if she was paying any attention at all. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was hearing the word directed at some poor, unsuspecting student, nor was it the first time he had stood up for someone over it. Durmstrang as a school was basically blood purist itself, with barely any muggleborns to be found. The school believed in the inherent danger of non-magical people to the wizarding community, although it had never entirely made sense to Slava. They wielded powerful magic at will, why were they so afraid?

But he had expected a little more from Hogwarts, the school that was so accepting they were rumored to even regularly let students who weren’t fully human attend. Surely they would encourage acceptance in their students? But the girl claimed she wasn’t looking to start a fight, and Slava just had to laugh. It was a bitter, sharp laugh, and it was clear that he was laughing at her and her stupidity, not making light of the situation. “If you are not trying to start a fight, do not say those things. It is simple. No one wants to hear your racist thoughts. You want no trouble? Keep your mouth shut. And if you want them to defend themselves, you should give them a chance to rather than wriggling out of the consequences. I, for one, think they could use a few more defenders if there are many students like you. Go cry to your mama about it.”

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April 18th, 2023

Colour: #2b2f69. Word Count: 420.

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Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky

"Don't you fucking mention my mother, you brainless nut job," gasped the girl, clutching her bag. Slava laughed. “Ooh, sore spot? Stupid racist has mommy issues?” There was something fierce and unidentifiable in his eyes. He knew he was provoking her, and now that he had found the girl’s weakness, he wanted to press it until she snapped. Someone so thoughtlessly cruel like this little girl deserved a harsh wake up call. And he would be so happy to deliver it if it had even a chance of getting her to stop with these hurtful comments of hers. Slava was a forgiving and kind person, for the most part. But a line had to be drawn somewhere, and she had crossed it. Nobody deserved to be hated just for who they were by birth. Their words and actions should be what they were judged by, and this girl’s words were filthy and unacceptable.

"You know, I didn't really ask you to listen or respond to what I said," she commented snippily. Slava smiled far too brightly for the situation, a threat in his eyes. He spoke slowly, treating the girl like he was explaining to a 5 year old, infantilizing her. “You know, that’s the funny thing about speaking in a hallway with other people. When you say your words out loud, you invite other people to respond.” He rolled his eyes. How stupid was this girl if she thought she had to invite someone to speak to her when she spoke in a public place, especially when the thing she was saying was a slur? “Did your mother not teach you that? I bet she didn’t teach you that actions have consequences, either. You want to just "get on with your day" without facing consequences for what you’ve done? I don’t think so.”

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April 18th, 2023

Colour: #2b2f69. Word Count: 443.

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Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky

The girl slapped him. On instinct, he punched her without meaning to, his body taking action to defend himself. “Violence too?” He shook his head disappointedly, as if she was a child who had done something wrong. Well, she was, but it was as if she was a five year old. Her slap didn’t hurt—he was used to getting hit by Bludgers, big balls of iron. The slap of a little girl was nothing compared to that, although his punch would likely hurt more. With his body being trained for the position of Beater in Quidditch, he was fit and strong as a result.

The news that she didn’t know his mother did shock him slightly. Maybe that was why she was so messed up? Slava loved his mother—both of his parents were kind and had raised him well, and he felt secure in how they thought of him. He never had to worry about whether they would be mad at him for failure, or have to spend his entire life trying to prove himself to them. They were proud of who he was, and he respected them greatly as a result of their kindness and wisdom they had exercised in his upbringing. His family members were his greatest supporters and he was confident in himself thanks to them. He knew they would be proud of him for standing up against racist bullies like this girl, too, so he had no problem with verbally striking back.

“How would you know?” he retorted, a slight sneer on his face. “I bet she would be disappointed in a failure of a daughter like you. A violent, racist, hateful, stupid, out of control little girl is not what a mother wants.” But as he spoke and the seconds passed, he grew concerned about the fact that he had hit her back. If he was at home in Durmstrang or outside of school in the streets somewhere, he would have been happy to continue the fight. But here? Here, he was on a trip that not everyone was present for. He was supposed to represent his school and behave well, and he didn’t know how fair the prefects and professors enforcing the rules here would be, even though he had done nothing wrong and had only acted in self defense.

In conclusion, it was time to go. “Enjoy knowing your mother never loved and never would love you,” he commented cheerfully, a final stab at her confidence. He wished he could have done more to make her feel bad about herself and regret what she had done, but he was running out of time before a staff member could potentially come. He was disappointed in the prejudice he had found at the school from this encounter—he expected Hogwarts to be better about this stuff than Durmstrang, given that they even accepted students who weren’t human, but it seemed he was wrong. Nevertheless, he hadn’t been a silent bystander today, and he never would be. “Have a terrible life, you stupid, unlovable racist.” And with that, he turned his back and left.

Slava leaves the thread unless physically stopped.