A Little Knowledge

Corinna noticed later that afternoon, as the five of them sat around the common room with their books and assignments, that Sophia seemed unusual pensive, even given the situation. She knew instinctively that the other girl was worrying about their potions’ professor. She shuddered and wondered if she should tell Sophia about the vision she had had involving some member of his family. Three members, she reminded herself, thinking unwillingly of the sack which had contained two additional heads ... and six hands, unless Somerville had been joking. She was rather certain that that was not the case.

But would knowing all of this make Sophia feel any better? Corinna had the nagging feeling that the knowledge both would and would not help her friend. Certainly she imagined that Sophia would want to know. She was already aware, as were the rest of them, thanks mostly to Martin, of that fact that Krohn’s siblings had perished during the conflict with Grindelwald. Of course, Sophia was perhaps a bit more tender-hearted that the rest of them, especially Sissy and Olivia.... Would this be a rare case where ignorance would be comparable to bliss?

Something else occurred to Corinna as she watch Sophia glance up from her books and toward the portrait hole: she was planning to see Professor Krohn that afternoon. Corinna could hardly fathom why, save that she knew that Sophia was very fond of the professor, although no one understood why that was exactly. Corinna had always suspected it was because they were so different, with the exception of their formidable skills in the area of potions, though this made positively no sense to Corinna. And there was always Sophia’s naturally empathetic disposition to which her fondness could be attributed.

Nevertheless, Corinna had the nagging feeling that she ought to inform Sophia of what she knew if for no other reason than so that the other girl would be more prepared and knowledgeable if she chose to intrude upon the grief of the potions’ master.

“I need something from the library. Do you want to go with me to get it?” she asked Sophia, closing her Herbology text and leaving her seat.

“Certainly,” Sophia answered with a smile.

The corridors were nearly deserted as they made their way toward the library. Most of the students were in their common rooms or perhaps out of doors, enjoying the fine weather despite the pall the hung over Hogwarts in the wake of the death one of the school’s most beloved headmasters. Something about this made Corinna feel better. Maybe because she knew that they would not be running into Black nor his cronies or simply because the quiet was less painful than the hushed voices in the common room of the Aerie had been.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said to Sophia as they walked, taking their time on their way to their destination.

“I figured as much,” Sophia nodded with a hint of a smile. She may not have had Corinna’s talents, but she was quite observant at times. “What about?” she questioned curiously.

“Professor Krohn...” said Corinna awkwardly.

Sophia had passed along his apology regarding the incident in potions, and Corinna had accepted it. She bore him no ill-will for the incident nor for his handling of it. She did not think that any of the other professors, except Professor Mallaghan, of course, would have reacted any more favorably to such an unusual display.

Sophia raised her eyebrows at this and asked, “Does this have to do with your visions?”

Corinna was nearly amazed that she had made the connection, but perhaps she did not give her friends enough credit in some matters, including those related to her talent.

“Yes, it does actually,” nodded Corinna.

Sophia paused and looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Corinna grimaced and looked around for somewhere more discrete where they could talk without fear of being overheard. She glimpsed a small nook ahead and gestured for Sophia to follow her to it.

“Well?” asked Sophia as they ducked into the small recess.

“I know ... what happened to his family ... his brothers and his sister,” she said with another uncomfortable grimace.

“You do?”

“I saw something of it ... when I had those visions with Professor Mallaghan. It was awful, Sophia, just awful,” she said, unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap.

Corinna had previously refused to answer questions on the topic, telling them that it had very little to do with the vampire and that it was her choice not to reveal things that didn’t directly affect them. Sophia had agreed with this, at least in theory, and had not pressed her, although she had wanted to do so. She was surprised that Corinna wanted to discuss the matter now and even more so because it involved Professor Krohn. The only problem was that Sophia wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the contents of this vision.

“What happened to them?” asked Sophia reluctantly.

Corinna took a deep breath and said, “Grindelwald had Somerville behead them and cut off their hands. I ... I think Professor Krohn may have ... received their hands ... packaged as Christmas gifts.”

She tried to put it as succinctly as possible to avoid the possibility that she might gag as she spoke. It worked out quite nicely, though she was still trembling slightly.

Sophia took one of her hands and squeezed it, understanding more completely the burden and horror of Corinna’s gift. There was a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach as she imagined what it must have been like for her professor. She had no siblings herself, but she could well imagine what it would be like to lose any of her friends in that way. Krohn’s reluctance to speak of things concerning the years of conflict possibly stemmed from his own losses, which Grindelwald had made all the more grievous, though Sophia could not begin to fathom why the Dark Wizard had done so.

“I saw one of his brothers...” said Corinna quietly. “The resemblance between them was ... quite strong.”

Sophia nodded silently as the connection between what had happened in class and Corinna’s visions solidified for her. She still wasn’t certain that this was something she wanted to know. But it was a moot point. It was too late. She knew.

“I’m sorry you had to see that sort of thing,” said Sophia after a moment longer of silence as she collected her the thoughts tumbling through her mind.

“Me too, but I suppose ... I suppose I understand some things better now ... like why everyone feared Grindel... him so much and why we should be afraid of Somerville ... other than the fact he’s a vampire. I never really understood how horrible the war was ... nor how frightful and evil the Dark Wizards were. Now, I understand,” she explained calmly.

Sophia squeezed her hand and said, “I think I do as well, though not nearly so much as you.”

“Do you still intend to see Krohn this evening?” asked Corinna.

“You knew?” asked Sophia with a faint blush. “Of course you knew. I mean ... you heard what Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall said...”

“That’s right,” Corinna nodded, taking her hand from that of her friend.

“Anything I should know?”

Corinna grimaced and said, “I would rather that you return to the Aerie before dark. Tonight ... I don’t think it will be a very pleasant night. I know something is going to happen, but I cannot see or understand what it is.”

“It isn’t becoming any clearer?” asked Sophia with a look of profound worry in her dark eyes.

“Not one bit,” said Corinna ruefully, “and I don’t think it will be any more so than it is now ... not until the end of this.”

“Don’t worry. It’s enough to know we should be on our guard. Most people ... they wouldn’t get that kind of warning,” Sophia informed her.

This made Corinna smile just slightly. “I really do hope it’s enough. I couldn’t stand it if something happened...”

“None of that now!” admonished Sophia. “We’ve had plenty of gloom for one day, haven’t we?”

“I suppose we have,” she nodded, thinking about where Sophia would be going and the likelihood of her finding anything but gloom there. Not even Olivia would like to figure those odds.

“Then ... I guess I should be on my way if I’m to return to the Aerie before curfew,” said Sophia.

“Well before curfew. As soon as you can, in fact,” Corinna insisted, not knowing the exact reason for her insistence, only that none of them needed to be out after sunset that night.

But what neither of the girls realized was that over the hills and mountains outside the castle, dark storm clouds were already beginning to roll in.


Sophia made her way down to the dungeons only to find both the potions’ classroom and Professor Krohn’s office closed, locked up tight, and presumably empty. The professor was nowhere to be seen. She imagined, therefore, that he was in his private chambers.

Perhaps someone else, or rather, anyone else, would have been daunted by the very idea of venturing into the bowels of the castle in search of Krohn, but Sophia was at times single-minded, though more often than not to a good purpose, and scarcely gave it a second thought as she made her way through the cool corridors of the dungeons.

The door that she presumed to lead to his chambers was in the most remote part of the dungeons where the soft drip of water could be heard at all times, which Sophia did not find at all pleasant. These dimly lit, cavernous corridors were cold too, causing her to draw her robes close about her shoulders and wish in vain for her house scarf, which was lying forgotten in her dormitory, thanks to the recent days of warm weather. But at last she reached a well-polished oaken door that looked out of place in the dreary, damp dungeon.

She knocked, hoping that she was not inadvertently knocking upon a portal that would lead her to the Slytherin common room, which she imagined to be several levels above her. The welcome a Ravenclaw would have received there would have been anything but a warm one.

Then she heard a familiar voice bellow, “Can’t a man get some peace around here?”

And Sophia knew that she was in the right place, for good or for ill.

The door creaked open rather slowly to reveal Krohn, who was just getting his left arm into the sleeve of a forest green dressing gown. He was holding a half empty glass in his right hand, obviously trying not to spill the contents as he opened the door. As he looked down at Sophia, he seemed more than a little surprised, almost as though he were expecting someone else or at least not a student from a house other than Slytherin. There was a slightly bleary look in his normally keen hazel eyes.

“What’re you doing down here? Students aren’t allowed,” he informed her in a mildly imperious tone, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ears as he finished wrestling with the gown.

Sophia knew precisely why she was there, to offer her condolences to her professor, but as she looked up at him, ascertaining that he was well on his way to being drunk and had possibly been crying not long before her arrival, which she now considered to be ill-timed at best, she was at a loss as to what to say to him.

This was quite a shame because Sophia was in better circumstances quite good at making other people feel better.

Krohn frowned at her and shivered slightly at the dungeon draft that was seeping into his living space, not to mention through his clothing.

“Well?” he prompted, longing to return to his cognac and his quiet place by the fire where he had been drinking to the memory of Armando Dippet for the better part of an hour.

Sophia shivered and just managed to stammer, “I’m sorry,” before bursting into helpless tears.

The professor stared at her for a moment before placing his glass on a small stand just inside the door.

“And just what are you sorry about, Miss Colville?” he asked, leaning down and looking into his student’s tear-filled, dark eyes.

“Everything,” she sniffed.

“I shouldn’t invite you inside, and I’m likely to get into such trouble if I do...” he said to her with a serious expression.

“Then ... then I should go,” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“Only if you want to. I’ve never concerned myself with mundane things like rules,” said Krohn with a ghost of a smile.

This was something that Sophia could hardly believe, but as she had not known the professor when he was younger, she would not have known about his penchant for gross violations of the rules of conduct, which were, of course, generally overlooked by the late Professor Dippet, who attributed them to youthful excess and nothing more.

Sophia shook her head, indicating that she did not wish to leave, and Professor Krohn moved aside and gestured that she should come inside.

The potions’ masters quarters were very warm in comparison to the cold, damp corridor outside. The parlor was done in dark green with traces of silver and black. The lights were low, but there was a fire crackling somberly in the hearth that illuminated the room in a soft, flickering orange light. The parlor was not particularly homey, although a few stray books, scattered parchments, and the odd empty cauldron made it seem very much the home of a scholar. The scent of floo powder was surprisingly heavy in the air.

“Please, have a seat, Miss Colville,” said the professor, gesturing to the couch in front of the fireplace. A rumpled throw was hanging across the back of it as it had been very chilly before Krohn had lit the fire.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sitting down.

Professor Krohn took a seat with her, attempting to figure out what was the matter with her. He was thankful that she, unlike some of his Ravenclaw students, did not turn into complete gibbering heaps when they were upset. Rational Miss Colville was very much easier to manage than her more Divinations-inclined friend.

“I didn’t mean to trouble you,” said Sophia. She wanted to make that perfectly clear.

“Quite all right,” he said, glancing toward the hearth. “I suppose it is better to have company than to be alone,” Krohn added quietly, almost regretfully.

“Especially at times like this,” said Sophia.

“Yes,” he agreed, nodding and rubbing his eyes.

“I had hoped that Professor Dippet might come back at the end of this business with the vampire,” she said hesitantly.

“I tried to convince him of the same,” chuckled Krohn, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He said that the school needed ... youth and vitality ... things that he simply couldn’t give to it anymore. He was happy to be retiring ... for the most part. I only wish he had had the chance to enjoy his retirement,” he added.

The former headmaster had only been away from the school for five months or so, hardly enough time to do anything of the things his Chocolate Frog Card said that he enjoyed like gardening or the writing of poetic verse.

“I miss him already,” sighed Professor Krohn. At a mildly quizzical look from Sophia, he explained, “We kept in touch by owl and through the fire. I scarcely went three days without hearing from him.”

Sophia sniffed again and nodded her agreement. “It’s awful to lose someone like this,” she said quietly.

“I imagine that most of the students feel the same. Armando was well liked,” said Krohn judiciously.

“Olivia’s been crying all day...” she informed him.

He nodded that he understood, but made no other indication of how he felt, although it comforted him to know that he was not alone in his grief, that others were mourning just as he was.

“But it must be far worse for you,” Sophia added.

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“You were close, weren’t you,” she said. It was not a question, but an observation that had been aided by what Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had said.

“Yes, quite,” he answered, not realizing that it had been so obvious. He did not realize that Sophia had had assistance in making that determination. “The headmaster ... he was like ... like ...”

“A father, sir?” she asked.

Krohn nodded and squeezed his eyes closed to stop the tears that threatened to trickle from his eyes at the thought of the kindly older wizard who had welcome him to Hogwarts in the autumn of 1936, nearly twenty years before, when he had been naught but a brash and angry young master of potions with a chip on his shoulder and a worn satchel in his hands filled with all of his earthly possessions, everything that he had managed to salvage from his home when his real father had thrown him out for ‘defecting’ to the ‘other side’.

A warm hand on his shoulder reminded him that he was not alone now, at least not in the physical sense of the word, though he suddenly felt very much as though he were alone and would be forever.

“Exactly that,” he murmured in response to her question.

“I’m sorry,” said Sophia.

“Aren’t we all?” said Krohn, putting his arm around her as he realized that the blow was probably a serious one to her as well, given that Armando had been a Ravenclaw and had treated the students of his house with a certain, albeit subtle, partiality.

Sophia simply nodded and sniffed softly.

Krohn wished that he had a handkerchief to give her, but he had used them all himself and sent to them to be laundered by the house elves.

“You’re ... you’re all alone now, aren’t you?” she asked him.

The question caused him to start and cut him nearly to the quick. The idea that Miss Colville might have some minor skill at Legilimency flitted through his mind, but he brushed it away very swiftly. He felt transparent, as though she could see the void Armando’s death had left within him, and a bit guilty for being so.

“In some ways, I suppose I am,” he answered simply.

“I wish things could have been different,” she told Krohn with a solemn look. The tears were gone from her eyes for the moment. He looked at her questioningly. “The war ... your family ... this ... everything,” she said haltingly.

“You know about all that too, do you?” he asked her.

“Something of it, yes,” Sophia nodded with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

“Whoever told you ought to flogged. It gives most people a turn ... even now, depending on what they’ve been told,” he muttered.

“It was Corinna ... and I’d rather she not be flogged for it. I’m sure she’d rather not know this sort of thing herself,” said Sophia.

“And who told her, I wonder,” said Krohn with an unpleasant grimace.

“She has other ways of finding things out, if you’ll recall, professor: her gift,” Sophia reminded him.

He paled slightly as he put two and two together.

“That nonsense in potions...” he said aloud with a stricken expression. He put a hand over his mouth at the realization.

“Naturally,” nodded Sophia with another serious look, “and she told me, because she thought I should know.... I could hardly believe it.”

Krohn made a mental note not to be so hard on Bellew in the future, though with her knack at mucking things up in his laboratory, it would surely be a struggle. Nevertheless, he suddenly found himself thinking that with such burdens to bear, she deserved better than he had given her in the past.

“Yes ... quite the surprise,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes as they began to sting again. “Did she tell you that they were ... for a time ... in league with him?” he asked.

“No,” Sophia stammered as her eyes widened.

“My family was very supportive of ... well, very supportive at first. I never cared for political affairs, so I was left out of that for the most part. I was quite young too. My father would go on about him at the dinner table ... how the portkeys were all on time with him in charge, how the new broomstick regulations made more sense, and how safe all of the wizarding communities were now ... no more random werewolf attacks or young uneducated wizards running amok in the streets,” said Krohn, shaking his head sadly.

“You knew better?”

“No, I simply didn’t care. Not in the least. Not even when my brothers and my younger sister swore allegiance to him,” he said, running one hand through his hair. “It was their affair, not mine,” he added, “and my recompense for my apathy? For not trying to convince them to come to Britain with me and forget all about that nonsense?”

Sophia shuddered, thinking of the gifts that Corinna had told her he had received, but she could say nothing on the subject for fear of bursting into tears again, which was not something she wanted to do. She merely contented herself with taking his hand in her own and squeezing it. The tender gesture spoke reams to the professor.

“You know the answer then?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“No need to discuss the unpleasantness of matter then. Suffice it to say ... I loved them very much ... and should have done more to protect them,” he said with a sighing breath.

“You mustn’t blame yourself. That was all his doing. It wasn’t your fault,” said Sophia, silently cursing the name of Grindelwald.

The certain and earnest look on her face made tears come to his eyes anew, but he smiled too; this was just what Armando had told him when he had first received the news of their deaths in late October 1944:

“My dear boy, there was nothing that you could do. They chose their fates when they defied him. Try to take comfort in that; in the fact that they weren’t killed by Aurors trying to escape nor by anyone else on our side. They chose to fight for what they believed to be right, no doubt with a great deal of courage and valor. This was their choice to make. Not yours, Reynard.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly to Sophia, though his answer to Professor Dippet had not been half so courteous. He blinked the tears away and asked, “Would you care to see a picture of them, Miss Colville? Of my siblings?”

“Please ... if you don’t mind,” she answered, unclasping his hand as he moved to rise.

“Not at all,” he said, striding quickly to a desk in the corner of the room.

Sophia watched as he opened a drawer and sifted through its contents, removing a framed photograph from the bottom of the drawer. He stared at it for a long moment before holding it to his breast and bowing his head. She imagined that he had not looked at that picture in a very long time.

When Krohn returned to the couch, he sat down heavily next to her and held the picture so that she could see it.

Standing in the photograph were three wizards of varying ages and a somewhat younger witch. Three members of the little party were wearing long black robes with strange runes embroidered upon them in silver and gold thread that had a little bit of red mixed in with it. The robes were cowled, but the two wizards and witch wore them thrown back neatly behind them.

The fourth wizard was dressed in plain and somber gray robes that buttoned to the chin in a rather formal fashion. Only by his blond hair could Sophia tell that he was her Professor Krohn; he was smiling broadly in photograph and had his arms around the shoulders of the young witch and the taller of his two brothers, who nearly rivaled him in height. Corinna could have readily identified him as Michael, though his hair was not so dingy in hue as when she had seen him. There was still a strong resemblance between the two brothers, though Michael was much older than Reynard.

The witch was petite by comparison and her nose wrinkled as she laughed -- this was a wizarding photograph after all. Her light brown hair was done up in a French braid, and sunlight flashed off her wire-rimmed glasses as she gazed fondly up at her youngest older brother and ruffled his nearly shoulder length blond hair, trying her best to muss it.

The middle of the brothers, Dietrich Krohn, looked more pensive than his happily laughing and smiling siblings and toyed with the sleeves of his dark robes as he stood there. For some reason Sophia imagined him to be as near to Professor Krohn in temperament as Michael was in looks. He seemed to be a bit worried and ill at ease, though obviously still trying to enjoy the company of his brothers and sister.

“That was the day that they took employment among the ranks of those in his private staff. They were very proud and pleased, as you can see,” explained Krohn.

“How old are you here?” asked Sophia curiously as she looked from the youthful blond wizard in the photograph to Krohn beside her.

“I had scarcely turned nineteen. I was not very long out of the Akademie and had not decided yet what to do with my life. You know where my skills lie ... so there is no need to state that I had many choices open to me,” he told her, making a subtle reference to how valued potions’ skills were during the war years and even just before.

“Liesel was nearly eighteen. She had just left school with outstanding marks and was perfecting her Animagus form, which was a squirrel. Dietrich was thirty-one here and well-respected in the German Ministry of Magic, which is how they all became involved with him. Father believed that Dietrich would accomplish great things. I wish ... I wish he had. Our eldest brother Michael was thirty-seven here, but he had just got engaged to be married ... when he was killed. I heard that the girl disappeared and was never found,” said Krohn with a soft sigh.

“You were so young,” said Sophia, looking at the smiling faces one more time.

“Yes, we were,” he agreed, thinking of the wedding plans that never came to fruition. To the best of his knowledge, Liesel had never even had the chance to fall in love. And with somber, serious Dietrich it had been much the same.

He put the picture aside and saw tears in Sophia’s eyes again. She had been thinking how happy her professor looked as a young man in that photograph. She had never seen him that happy before.

“Those days will never come again for him,” she thought sadly.

He frowned as he realized that those tears weren’t for Professor Dippet nor precisely for his siblings. Those tears were for him. He furrowed his brow and wondered if she had come down to the deepest part of the dungeons only because of what she knew of him and his sorrows and cares.

Then Krohn remembered that this was sensitive, albeit mostly level-headed, Miss Colville and knew he was right about her motives. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to shout at her for meddling or thank her for her concern. He settled for laughing softly in confused disbelief and holding out his arms to her.

“Don’t worry, Miss Colville; I have a great knack for surviving things of this nature,” he said quietly to her.

She couldn’t help but to chuckle at this glib statement as she hugged him tightly.

“I’m glad, professor,” she said, though she fervently wished the his life had been otherwise -- filled with less sadness and woe.

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