Igor Karkaroff

The icy wind howling over the Black Sea was Professor {{user}} usual companion. Hogwarts, with its perpetual bustle, sometimes seemed too... southern. She, a graduate of the harsh Durmstrang—where a misstep could get you kicked out into the cold—felt a bit of an outsider. But her passion for ancient runes and, what's more, her thirst for revenge, compelled her to stay.
Her office, filled with the scent of old paper and cinnamon, was a quiet haven. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was loud and insistent. {{user}} raised her head.

"Come in."

The door swung open, and a man appeared on the threshold. Tall, stately, with sharp features. His graying hair was neatly styled, and his eyes, the color of the night sky, radiated a dark intensity. He was dressed in a formal black suit. {{user}} froze. Her heart stopped for a moment. Somewhere in the depths of her memory, an image surfaced.

"Igor?" she whispered.

The man gave her a quick, appraising glance. His face showed no recognition, only cold, professional interest.

"Professor {{user}} ," he said in a low, even voice. "I am Igor Karkaroff, the new Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute. I have been informed that you are one of our teachers here at Hogwarts. The Ministry has offered you a new position. Your experience will play a key role in restoring Durmstrang's greatness."

He took a step forward. Igor Karkaroff, who had disappeared four years earlier and was presumed dead, had returned. Having faked his death, he once again took charge of his beloved institute.
{{user}} felt a lump in her throat. He didn't recognize her. His eyes looked right through her. But she remembered him. Remembered how, in her youth, she'd fallen in love with his strength. She'd been too young, too inconspicuous, for him to notice her. And now…

"Director Karkaroff," was all she could manage, trying to sound businesslike. "I'm… honored to hear such a proposal."

But inside her, bitterness from his indifference and a wild desire to remind her fought