Chivalry Fell on Its Sword Closed PV Johannes Sauer Reopened

private thread with @Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky
speaking in russian, unless specified

The culmination of Johannes’ fallout with Cielle had only resulted in a lingering period of social mourning that had promised to stretch deeply into the new academic year. She may have had the ability to return all stolen aspects of him in a neat package, but with neither an address nor the desire to purge his entire inventory for any mere proof of her existence, Johannes had less luck in pretending to forget their friendship. If only to remove himself of the emotional burden in preparation for his coming responsibilities, he had stored away all of his letters and photos, unsent and hidden, in some corner of his room back in Germany — where it would hopefully remain undisturbed until he was ready to truly tackle the subject.

Armed with his freshly reclaimed position within the rapidly evolving Pack, Johannes had already been thrown into the ongoing campaigns towards notoriety partially against his will. The next two years would be busy with so many of his peers preparing to leave Durmstrang. Dropped amongst the unrecognisable crowd, he aimed to retake both his reputation and authority as a Hound while he still could. There were schedules to be made, territory to be patrolled and, above all, ”trust” to be earned. It was only the first weekend of the school year (if one could acknowledge the fact that they started classes on a Friday), but he couldn’t reap the benefits without early planting. Already, he had been called upon for his services via owl — though, as it appeared, from an unconventional source.

"Slava, you've called?" Neatly clad in full uniform and freshly relinquished from the day's duties, Johannes lifted a hand in greeting towards their uncharacteristically sombre #6. There was something strangely sharp to Slava's demeanour today— as if sunshine incarnate could capture its own shadows... From the full-name address to the other’s leading questions, it was clear that this conversation was not going to be a walk in the park. It was but mid-afternoon, the overcast sky above aiming to take advantage of the normalized lack of clockwork, yet Johannes had never before witnessed such chillingly profound conviction from the other's typical rambling. (For some reason, he had always placed his friend above the savage turbulence of Durmstrang's general population, as if glittered optimism could weather the perpetual storm like a well-built shield. Whether simple naivety or subconscious disregard had coloured his outlook, Johannes could not tell.) He, momentarily stunned into silence with growing unease and unable to get a word in otherwise, could only allow Slava to continue his nervously monologuing explanations till their end.

How was it possible that, even while knowingly and unashamedly aiming to inflict direct harm upon another, Slava’s desires still held some modicum of kindness? Mentally kicking himself at the predicament he’d accidentally walked himself into, Johannes could but marvel at his friend’s wholeheartedness. This was no case of classic violence, but a situation approached with the same spark of violent determination that Johannes had seen in so many prospective Hounds. It seemed near traitorous to assign such raw intensity to the generally unassuming, good-humoured boy standing before him. How poorly did Alaric come across to charge such tension into his and Slava’s budding one-sided conversation, especially with the memorability to last over the rest of summer break…? Was it a mistake to add to their Quidditch ranks with such last-minute priority? The merit of truth within Slava’s monologuing explanations shone sharper than any broken mirror shard.

"How is it that you’ve got such a good heart, Chip…?" How even the sweetest of them all fell victim to the deceptively gratifying pull of noble retribution — which was to say that Johannes, an easily tempted man of his word, held little resistance to taking it upon his own hands. "If this is really what you want to do — and I’m not gonna try convincing you otherwise — you’ve asked the right person." Hypocrisy did not look flattering on him, but neither did outright denial of his capability. "Count me in." Clearly, it was not very hard to convince Johannes into some semblance of recruitment with the right combination of familiarity and intention. In some reaching, guideless sense of the word, Slava aimed to better Alaric as a person under whatever means necessary. To improve his mindset was to improve his perspective on life. It was a slippery, slippery slope lined with good intentions, but then again, did Slava ever hold anything but good intentions?

On principle, Johannes had very little regard for blood status or proof of true 'humanity' considering his perpetual preoccupation with reputation hinged on capability rather than inherited status. He could acknowledge its presence, certainly, but he had neither enjoyed the benefits of his supposedly pureblooded station past his early youth nor did he care to. Durmstrang held itself accountable for nothing but seized power and self-made "community". Perhaps in this sense, he had taken on the spirit of Durmstrang's motivations in equal ruthlessness and little of its true intentions, only attending them when it resulted in some benefit. Yet past his general disregard for the intricacies of magical politics, Johannes would be an idiot not to acknowledge Slava’s motivation towards the extra layer of race to this blatant discrimination. Maksim, the tightly-strung but ultimately well-meaning and fairly (read: socially anxiously) indulgent acquaintance that he was, didn’t deserve poor treatment for the uncontrollable aspects of his identity. Then again, neither did any of Hogwarts’ halfbreeds. Johannes could keep his self-contained conflicts amongst the general turbulence, generally content to maintain his platter of difficulties without outside interference, but he could never consider turning his back on his own in a time of need.

Havartz had surely chosen the wrong person to unintentionally cross, for if Slava had a problem with someone, then Johannes was obligated to gladly share that burden. "If it means anything, I don't care much about the consequences." How could he? His blackened disciplinary record could argue no weight against him — having had long ago gotten to the point of desensitization — as he held no legitimate 'adult' authority figure under exceptionally high esteem. “We'll cross that bridge when we have to, but they shouldn't stand in our way too much. Trust in the process." In his current position, the only truly pressing negative result that could affect him would be the difficulty of appealing for temporary relinquishment of his Pack duties so early into the term. A chore, yet even that was not completely impossible. There was nothing for him to lose but time and he'd always been borrowing extra seconds. He could deal with the scepticism and tracking on his own agenda without adding to Slava's obvious worrying.

And, beyond all of his self-justifications, while he certainly wasn't going to hate the kid on another's behalf (not like his Russian friend needed help on that end), Alaric did seem like a little bitch. Even their prickliest, most unpredictable students held some semblance of prideful self-respect to avoid obviously, outright attacking others for their opinions. Young though the kid seemed, one could never curb the indoctrination of childhood's delusion too early in Durmstrang.

Besides, he and Slava had long ago become upperclassmen. Under Durmstrang’s typical lack of a formal hierarchical structure, they were therefore meant to help guide their younger student body towards a good, vaguely moral path to success. So a bit of hazing in the name of good intentions wouldn't be too great of a stretch. At most, it could only be considered an expected consequence of their presently independent school culture. Surely, the administration would stifle their growth before it started sprouting if they intended to establish a healthy reformatory system.

Johannes could never consider himself a good teacher — considerably too brooding and absentmindedly impatient — but even a mediocre teacher could shape a sufficiently impressionable student. Though stubborn to a fault, the majority of Durmstrang’s student body only required a firmer hand to start bending. "After all, what's a couple of detentions to reprogramming?" Johannes' tone grew lighthearted and slightly manic in his assured nonchalance, temporarily taking on the personality swap to Slava's brooding determination with stride. Easily donning his role as a willing lackey, he was but a deployable pawn to the strategical game of revenge, directly involved within the game only when he was required to. “So, how do you want to do this? I assume you've got a plan laid out already, considering the speech you've introduced and the amount of time that passed since the first incident. If not a plan, then at least some semblance of an idea.” Time, date, location… He couldn’t tell if Slava aimed to contact their unwitting victim beforehand or to conduct a premeditated ambush to force their underclassman’s hand.

Hm. It had been quite a while since he’d taken his role as an appointed Guard seriously.

mentioning @Cielle Johansen, @Alaric Havartz, @Maksim Preobrazhensky (minorly)

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky Dialogue is assumed to be in Russian

Once Johannes had arrived, Slava hadn’t given him much of a chance to speak, instead getting right to the heart of the matter and explaining himself. When he finally stopped, there was a pause before his friend said, "How is it that you’ve got such a good heart, Chip…?" Slava wasn’t sure how true that really was. He had always considered himself to have a good heart; that was what he had always been told. He enjoyed being good—it made him happy and, more importantly, it made others happy. But in this context, it felt weird. Even if he believed he had good reasons, the reality was that he was planning to violently punish someone for their actions. Could that be considered good-hearted?

Johannes calling attention to it, even if he was theoretically complimenting Slava, made the Russian aware of an uncomfortable feeling arising from this difference. He slowly shifted his weight from foot to foot with a slight frown before he realized what he was doing, forcing himself to still again—his fingers of one hand subtly tapping the other hand; he never could quite manage to stop moving—and try to refocus on the current moment. He tried to ignore the odd feeling, but even the awareness that he was doing so was unsettling. Attempting to distract from that, he looked down at his feet and the ground beneath him, kicking at it softly before his eyes drifted back up to Johannes. His gaze settled on his friend’s curly hair for a moment before finally shifting down to his grey eyes.

No, Slava was planning to do a good thing. Wasn’t he? Alaric deserved to have harm done unto him—he should have to pay for what he had done. Slava reminded himself of how Alaric had hurt that poor girl, who was just as young as the Havertz child, so he couldn’t escape the blame just because he was a kid. She hadn’t deserved to be treated like that—she had been harmed for something wholly out of her control. By contrast, Alaric’s actions were something he could control, and he had chosen to cause pain instead of treating another child with empathy and kindness. He had done wrong, so anything that followed as retribution was only fair. It was just equalizing the score, restoring the balance, making things right through this forced atonement for his actions. Slava was simply getting the ball of karma rolling.

And, thankfully, it seemed that very little would stand in his way now that Johannes had agreed to help. Slava had expected that that would be the case, but he still breathed a sigh of relief—it was nice to have the confirmation. He really did appreciate the support of his friend, it made him feel… lighter, almost. "Trust in the process." Slava nodded in response to the reassurance. Consequences weren’t of much concern to him right now, nor were they ever, but Slava had wanted to mention it so that Johannes would be reminded of what he was potentially getting into. Detentions didn’t really matter to the Russian personally, especially not in comparison to his morals. There were things worth getting in trouble for. And it wasn’t like he was a stranger to that, anyway…

Johannes expressed a bit of a similar sentiment with his subsequent comment of, "After all, what’s a couple of detentions to reprogramming?" Slava laughed, which was fairly inappropriate for the situation but nevertheless eased some of the tension he was feeling. Perhaps Johannes’s demeanor should have been concerning—there was certainly a slight edge to it that promised danger—but instead it was energizing for Slava, who began mirroring the lightheartedness as his friend asked about a plan. “You know I don’t really plan, I just do.” He shrugged. There was a bit of warmth that returned to his eyes, the relaxed tone of his statement far too normal for the topic to which his words were actually referring.

“But yeah, I had some ideas. Now that I know you’re on board, I feel like I could most use your help with stuff beforehand. I was thinking maybe we could send a note from you saying… well, I don’t know, inviting him to practice Quidditch or something in a slightly secluded area? There’s no way he’d trust anything coming from me one bit, considering it was pretty hostile when we first met, but a note would have a good chance of ensuring that he’d be at a certain place at a certain time, and that’s much easier than trying to learn the details of his schedule. Maybe Tuesday, in the afternoon or evening? I’d rather it be sooner than later…” he mused. The way they spoke was as if they were scheduling a simple time to hang out, not discussing when to beat up a kid. It was this same reckless disregard, though, that would later come back to haunt him.