Jon couldn't help but frown. The old man's voice was so vile it made Jon's skin crawl. It was hard to imagine that someone like him could possibly be a friend of Albus Dumbledore.
"Hello, is this Professor Winston Vance?" Jon repeated his earlier question.
At the same time, his right hand slipped casually into his pocket, fingers closing around his wand.
"Yes, that's me..." The little old man with the goatee grinned lecherously. "I'm Vance... What can I do for you, dear?"
Jon took a few steps back. Thinking back to that meeting letter, it seemed Dumbledore hadn't mentioned any secret password.
"I'm Christopher Patrick!" Jon could only drop the hint.
"A lovely name..." The leering old man seemed entirely oblivious to it. He came closer, circling Jon several times while occasionally sniffing loudly as if trying to catch his scent.
"Are you really Professor Vance?" Jon frowned, asking with clear disgust.
"Of course!" The old man pointed at the badge on his chest, smiling again to reveal his yellowed teeth.
The letters "Vance" on the badge stood out prominently.
"Now, dear... you have no doubts, do you?"
The old man stepped even closer, coming within a yard of Jon. He stretched out a hand, trying to touch the back of Jon's neck.
Jon had had enough. He stepped back sharply and drew his wand in one swift motion.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted.
The lecherous grin on the old man's face froze instantly, and his body began to stiffen, bit by bit.
"Have some decency, sir!" Jon retorted sharply.
However, the petrification lasted only a second before the old man's rigid body began moving again. He had broken the spell on his own.
Before Jon could react, a powerful force slammed into his chest.
He was flung several meters backward by the force, his wand flying from his grasp. He crashed hard against the wall and struggled to lift his head.
No wand... no incantation...
That meant the opponent had cast a Nonverbal and wandless spell at the same time. From that alone, this sleazy old man might well be on par with Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape.
What kind of joke was this? Why had Dumbledore sent him to meet someone like this?
Jon pressed his right hand to his forehead, pretending to be dizzy, while his left hand slipped quietly into his pocket. Inside were several wrapped Devil's Snare spores, a few potion vials, and a frozen Ashwinder egg...
The old man reached down and picked up Jon's wand. His long, bony fingers brushed gently along its surface.
"How beautiful... and green, no less..." he murmured in a sharp, chilling voice.
Then he raised his gaze, studying Jon greedily.
"W-where... where... where did you get that..." His voice suddenly began to tremble.
...
Jon was still trying to figure out how to deal with this creepy man without his wand, when the other suddenly spoke in that shaky, fearful tone.
Within that trembling voice, Jon could sense something else—panic, even fear.
The old man's terrified gaze was fixed on Jon's hand... the one wearing the iron ring Dumbledore had given him.
"Sir..." the man asked in a flustered whisper, "Could you tell me where that came from?"
Sure enough, he was referring to the iron ring.
Should he tell him Dumbledore had given it to him? But since the man hadn't recognized the name "Chris Patrick," it was likely he'd never been in contact with Dumbledore at all.
So...
"It's a family heirloom," Jon said casually.
The old man shuddered visibly. Hunching over like a goat, he shuffled forward and handed Jon back his bamboo wand.
"My sincerest apologies for my rudeness, sir..." he stammered, bowing his head without daring to meet Jon's eyes. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Jon took back his wand calmly. "I'm fourth-year student Chris Patrick. I came to Durmstrang to cancel my enrollment."
Professor Vance, the sleazy old man, visibly relaxed. He hurried to the door, opened it, and gestured invitingly.
"A simple matter! Follow me!"
...
Following Professor Winston Vance, Jon returned to the corridors of Durmstrang Castle.
Every student they passed stopped to greet the old man respectfully.
"Good afternoon, sir!"
"Professor Vance!"
"Headmaster Vance!"
Headmaster...
Jon thought silently. So this was the new headmaster of Durmstrang after Karkaroff fled?
But that cramped little office earlier didn't look much like a headmaster's office.
Still, the looks from the passing students toward Jon were filled with faint disdain.
Ignoring them, Jon followed Professor Vance down the stairs until they reached a small, low-ceilinged room on the first floor of the castle—so plain it was almost easy to overlook.
The room was dimly lit. Near the entrance, a bookshelf was stacked with various records and files.
Behind a desk inside sat an old man with snow-white hair. If Jon remembered correctly, he was the same one he had seen earlier, polishing the deck of the ghost ship with a rag when he first entered the school grounds.
"Winston?" The old man glanced up at the intruders and frowned. "You're still trying to get the key to Karkaroff's office from me. I told you I can't help you unless Durmstrang itself approves..."
"No, Emmerson..." Professor Vance shook his head quickly, gesturing toward Jon. "This is Mr. Christopher Patrick, a fourth-year student. He needs to withdraw from Durmstrang."
"Withdraw his enrollment, you say..." The old man slowly stood and walked to the bookshelf of records.
"Wait..." He turned back to Jon. "What is your name?"
"Patrick," Jon answered calmly. "Chris Patrick."
"Patrick..." the old man repeated, his brow furrowing slightly.
"I see, Mr. Patrick..." He paused before continuing slowly, "But before that, you must return to your dormitory... Pack up everything you've left at the school and take it with you."