The Black Forest or the Secret Diary of Prof. S. Quirrell

August 17

Over breakfast, Levin threw her coffee at me. Out of frustration and something I didn't yet understand the implications of, but it was still upsetting.

"God damn them! God damn them all!" she cursed over and over again, ignoring the fact that a quick duck was all that kept me from soaking in her brown, beany water.

"What's...wrong?" I ventured, afraid.

"Argint. God damn them! All around the camp. It was not there last night."

"Does silver really bother you then? I never knew how much of that was exaggerated."

"Argint is beetles crawling under the skin, behind the eyes, in the head. I can feel it - everywhere!"

"What can I do to help?"

"Find it - throw it away!" She let loose a strangled moan. "It burns my eyes."

With a simple metal detection spell, I was able to clear us a path away from the camp ground. I dug up each piece with my hands - each necklace charm, piece of silverware, broken cross - and gathered them into a small pile. I wished briefly for a Philosopher's Stone to turn them into a more valuable, more benign metal. Unfortunately, I had only the power to fling them deep into the woods with the half hope they would hit whomever placed the argint in our path.

Levin was more relaxed when I returned, although she rubbed at her watery eyes constantly.

"I was taught that silver is an unreliable deterrent for wolves, that some have built up an immunity almost. That the telum, not so much the argentum, kills."

"That depends on the breed, Quirrell. Some wolves are more hurt by it than others. My line is weak. I do not know who made my brother's friends who made my brother who made me. But we are weak to argint."

"And to trolls."

"No, that's just me." Levin packed without talking, then said, " It is a test from our friends."

"The one - ones - following us?"

"How else could it be?"

"Perhaps the locals use this area to ward off werewolves."

"No. Not with broken crosses. Not here, not these people." She surveyed our nearly empty camp and nodded grimly.

"Levin...there really is more than one of them, following us?"

"Oh, yes, Quirrell. There are many."

Q

August 19

Levin believes there is no way to ambush them as we are only two and she has now determined that as many as 13 travel behind us.

"Sometimes it feels as if there are many, sometimes as if there is only one. It's very strange. But I should expect no less here," she let her glance pass over the trees and rocks. "I hate this place."

"We'll be out of it soon?"

"Not until we cross out into Bulgaria and then back up into Romania." She sighed and I thought she was homesick. How she missed that little shack in the woods, I can't fathom, but then again, even Snape's dreary dungeons are beginning to take on an eerie appeal in the back of my mind.

"More mountains?"

"The Malesia e Malhe. They call Albania - the land of eagles. They mean it."

"More mountains."

Levin merely shrugged at me.

Q

August 22

Smoke below us as the day becomes night. Levin was infuriated.

"They mock us. They spit in our faces. If you are so brave, come up here yourselves," she shouted although I doubt they could have heard her below.

"Why don't we go down to them?"

"I told you -"

"But coming to them would be the last thing they would expect."

"And they would kill us the moment we stepped into their camp. There is blood on those travelers. I can smell it."

"But if we surprise them, the advantage is ours. Like this, they control the where and when for an attack."

Levin stopped her protesting and considered my rather foolishly bold words for a moment. Then she smiled, in frightening, full-tilt agreement. "Alright. We surprise them. Tonight we travel down in the darkness. The moon is nothing now. We can do it well."

She patted my shoulder. "You are learning, Quirrell. Before long, I will have to watch out for you."

I changed the color of my clothing to deep black and performed another round of cleaning spells. After all, what if they - whoever they are - prove friendly? Levin may not care what I look or smell like, but should they prove civilized, they might.

As soon as the sun disappeared, we started out, leaving behind us a small fire burning to fool the enemy (I encased it in an extinguishing spell, should it choose to spread, probably an unnecessary step, but I've learned quite a bit about practical fire safety from Levin).

It was difficult following her in the night, but I did my best. When she stopped, I stopped and when she moved on, I continued.

By midnight, however, I'd lost her and I knew it - meaning I may have lost her much earlier, but I never realized it until the clock struck 12.

I had two choices. Did I stand in one place and wait for her to notice I was gone, hoping she would come back to look for me? Or did I stumble on, to risk blundering into our unknown enemies?

I choose the latter, suddenly preferring human company of any sort to the strange prickling feeling on the back of my neck. I stepped forward, carefully, wanting to cast an illumination spell, but refraining. Silence, darkness. These were our watchwords. These were our protection.

A hand shot out from under a bush and tripped me, sending me sprawling onto the ground.

I tried not to panic. "Levin?"

But already the stench of death was on top of me and a voice, vaguely remembered, purred into my ear. "Now there is no river between us."

He fastened his lips around my earlobe, then kiss where it meet the neck. "Do you like, sang 'solut?"

His mouth traveled slowly - agonizingly slowly - to the very nape of the neck. Then he bit, sinking his teeth into the all too giving muscles at the base.

I screamed. In an instant, the vampire was off me and another - a beefy German in lederhosen - towered above me. He spoke in a strange argot, which seemed a mixture of many languages at once.

"Dracasor, du bist ein cocksucker, ja, mi ami?"

"Nein, culo de pollo. Am muscat aqui. No puede a muri of that."

The German said nothing in reply, merely swung a huge arm around and sent the young vampire flying. I heard Dracusor curse, but could no longer see him.

"I am sorry." The German held out his hand to me. I stood on my own, ignoring the offer, as I preferred to keep my hand over my still bleeding wound.

He grinned and I sense more than saw the length and width of his huge fangs. "The Master told us don't hurt the English. Kill the woman if you can, but don't hurt the English. You're the English. Follow me."

As we went down, he sang something in operatic German, interrupting himself form time to time to mutter "Stupid child" or "Damn Romanians" in English.

I had nearly made it to their camp on my own - it took us only a few minutes to reach their camp.
The place seemed deserted. The second we stepped into the firelight, however, I noticed ten pale faces watching us.

"Quirrell!"

Like a wave, the sea of faces parted and Levin came quickly into the camp. At her approach, the German backed away from me, showing his fangs.

Levin ignored him, so happy was she to see me alive. She threw her arms around me, scaring me more than the undead had. "Vampires! But you are alright."

"More or less. " As we came down, I changed a staunching spell, but I had not taken much medicinal magic work study beyond the basics of first aid and I had no idea what further treatment to apply. Should I clean the wound - is vampire saliva dirty like that of a dog or human?

Levin saw the blood and her eyes went wide. "Which one did this?"

"The little Romanian. Dracusor."

"Magar mic. Yes, Dracusor. I will kill you, magar mic."

"Calma, calma," a tall, elegant blond offered from the sidelines. "Our master sleeps but soon the master will greet you."

"The master?"

"A powerful sangre sucia," Another, a dark-skinned male, whispered before vanishing into a fog.

Levin sighed and sat herself down beside the fire. "We stay. Even if I escape, they will easily kill you."

"Thank you. I'm not defenseless, you know."

"Look at my neck. Now look at yours. Who is not bit?"

"You seem to disgust them."

She was affronted by that and I was secretly pleased. "What do they matter, those corpses?"

A hissing from the gathered company, still stationed at a respectful distance. She laughed. "We might as well rest. We're not going anywhere and they're not going to let anything near us. We're safe."

"In a strange sort of way, yes."

Levin took off her light outer jacket and bunched it for a pillow, motioning for me to take the place next to her by the fire.

"Sleep here. They won't bother you, even that magar mic." She paused - for effect. "Because I disgust them."

As sure as I am learning the ways of the woods, so Levin is learning the ways of the world. Soon the wolf will more resemble the woman and I, the wildman more than the wizard.

This is a queer place.

Q