Luka wasn‘t sure if he had ever attended a full day of classes at Durmstrang. Even in his first year, he had been far from the terrified new kid. He had known the school like the back of his hand even before he ever step foot inside, and right from the start he knew which teachers to avoid, which spots he could never get caught, and, most importantly, which classes to skip. The way he saw it was: if you didn‘t plan on doing it as your career, why go? As long as your father can bump your grades up a few letters when the report cards get waved around in a cultural fashion to other rich friends, it really didn‘t matter.

That was why he was out in the forest, when he was supposed to be in some ludicrous class like History of Magic or something. That subject was completely pointless in his opinion. Why learn certain things about the past when some day it won‘t be the things being taught? In a couple of hundred years, they won‘t be talking about the war with the Dark Lord that has already been, they will teach the one that is still yet to come, on that Luka wants to play his part in. So skipping History of Magic was perfectly explainable, he told himself, as he hit on some girl, only to have her walk briskly away. It was only after she‘d gone it dawned on him why she had done so. Turning around, his expression softened into a smirk when he noticed Blythe Calder standing there. “Oh, her? Slept with her a couple of months back. Seems she doesn‘t appreciate me hitting on her when I‘ve been avoiding her and not returning her owls all semester” he said, shrugging it off, almost bored.