Loyal as a Dog

It was hardly the sort of day a funeral should occur. The June afternoon was perfect. Sunny and warm with only a hint of a breeze, a far better day to be outside than stuck inside the sunless depths of Durmstrang's Great Hall. As if seeking warmth, Rolf Haken stood next to the large stone fireplace that dominated one wall of the Great Hall. Enchanted blues flames that gave no warmth flickered fitfully there. He finished his glass of wine and placed the goblet on the mantle. Richard Lester's death had been well timed, occurring only after the last of the grades had been filed and the paperwork done for the year - almost as if it had been planned, which it had been.

Moving slightly to lean against the wall, he looked at the gathering. An odd group, but that was to be expected. The other professors of the school loitered in small groups, their conversations fixed more on their upcoming summer vacations than on the life and career of the recently deceased. His observation stopped, held by the group of men huddled by the main doors leading out of the room. Their fine clothing marked them as strangers to the school and their accents claimed them as belonging to an island far, far away.

During his last few weeks of life, while he still was able to wield a pen with some wit, Lester had sent many letters. The Owlery had seen a great deal of use and the international mail had been shipped far more often than usual. The administrative staff, normally grumpy and not inclined to rush for any of the professors, had made an extra effort to help the dying man. As Lester faded physically, the letters were sent more often, but none were ever answered and he did not seem to expect a response.

As if called by some unheard siren, the strangers had begun to arrive in the last few days. The village where the Portkey to Durmstrang was kept was small enough that the group of hard-eyed men stood out. Several had arrived before Lester had breathed his last, but none came to visit. Their presence had been noted by the local Aurors as odd, but it was their air of waiting that sent the officials into a flurry of activity as each man's identity was verified.

When the mediwizard declared Lester was dead, a small notice appeared at the Ministry's offices with the day and time of the service. A different man had walked by the board every day and, after the notice had been posted, the parade ceased and a different sort of tension began.

Lester had made it clear that he wanted nothing of a religious ceremony. With a bitter laugh, he had conceded that it would be appropriate if a last toast was made to him, but he specified whom he wanted to make it with his usual twist of irony. His desired officiate refused at first, but the wishes of the Headmaster forced the issue and now it was time.

Sullenly, a woman separated herself from a group settled at a table partially obscured by the main doors. Dressed elegantly in blacker than black robes, she slowly walked towards the front of the hall to take her place by the fireplace that Haken stood by. She gave him a sidelong glance, enough that he could see the entirely black eyes and the slight sneer as well. When the Headmaster nodded at her, she cleared her throat, claiming the attention of all there.

"I have the honor of raising the last toast in Richard Lester's name at Durmstrang." She paused while an unfortunate titter of laughter was heard from a group of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Those men looked away quickly when she riveted them with her dark stare. "Raise your glasses to the memory of Richard Lester, who was the head of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department, a man of England and a supporter of an unnamed master who called him unto the end."

A gasp was heard and the elegant men in the back of the room stiffened. Their glasses did not finish the toast and, as Haken watched, they seemed to melt back out of the room.

"Deliberate or unintentional, Loup?" Haken tried to force his usual smile into place; however, today it refused to shine.

"He was bound." The dark mage shrugged as she watched the men in the back with interest. "They are, too. Why else would they come this far? No one ever wrote to him. You would have thought that no one cared." She took a deep breath. "Is this charade done? Is it too early to leave?"

"You will have to pass through his - friends." Haken looked around at the rest of the guests, taking especial note of the great number of Aurors there. None were dressed in uniform, but they still managed to look official. Johannes Werner, who was in charge of the local department, was already heading towards the doors. Hans Mueller, enormous and frightening in his black uniform, looked oddly out-of-place in blue robes that had the look of a present and not a personal choice. Massys and Baldung could almost pass for professors except for their eyes, which flicked constantly over the hall. They would fade out of the room soon enough to follow the strangers.

"It hardly bothers me. Why would it?" She turned a carefully neutral face to him.

They regarded each other for a moment, each knowing it was her spell that had claimed Lester's life in a slow wasting death. Haken had watched her cast part of it, had seen what was left of her afterwards. Although he had been involved in the Dark Arts for years, it was the first time he had seen the kind of darkness that one heard whispered of. The first time he had truly understood what had to be given in order to take. He found himself looking away, unable to accuse her of anything except self-defense and preferring to not mention it at all.

"Who's claiming the ashes?" She cocked her head towards a small lead box, which contained all that was left of the departed. It fairly sparkled with protective charms, all requested by the dead man. Lester had understood what could be done with his earthly remains. He had demanded promises from everyone who would be involved in dealing with them that every bit would be reduced to the smallest of ashes, that those ashes would be diluted with salt, then placed into a lead coffer and then protected with the strongest spells possible. If he couldn't live in peace, he wanted to rest that way. The Headmaster had called for every professor to lend his or her skills to the project and had also forced his personal black mage to cast her spell. Loup's performance had been lackluster, but she had added her own work to the casket.

"No one has said yet, but it will return to England." Haken nodded his thanks as a tray of freshly filled wineglasses was presented. He accepted another glass of red and continued his habitual examination of the personages before him.

Bored, Loup wandered back to the table by the doors, taking her place next to her mate, Yuri Gregorov.

Haken noted the surly look on Gregorov's face and suppressed a snort of laughter. Gregorov had not completely forgiven her dalliance with the late Lester. Of course, if one wanted to look at the past in detail, Gregorov should also shoulder a small part of the blame. But then, who truly wanted to stare at their own deeds too carefully?

His reverie was broken by the Headmaster's growling voice. "Professor Haken, it is good to see that at least one of the Dark Arts department show their loyalty by standing where all can see." The Headmaster glowered across the room at the crowded Dark Arts' table where even Todor Rabe, who held the equivalent position that Lester had held, sat with his colleagues. With a sneer, the Headmaster faced Haken, staring down at the smaller man until, with a rather forced smile, Haken blinked first. "Loyalty," sniffed the Headmaster. "Loyalty is what Professor Lester showed. He was loyal to me, to this school, to all of us."

Haken hid his laugh in a cough. Lester had been loyal to no one. Not even to his master. The thought was delightful and Haken began mentally compiling the list of people to whom Lester had not been loyal. The exercise was broken off only when Haken realized he had missed responding to a question. "Sir?"

"Professor Haken, I asked you if you understood what 'loyalty' meant?" The Headmaster folded his hands behind his back and stood swaying slightly as he waited, his last exhalation betrayed the consumption of a rather large amount of wine.

"Yes, sir. I know what loyalty means. I understand the concept very well." Haken took a deep breath, "I owed a great deal of loyalty to your predecessor, Headmaster Karkaroff. I am, as they say, loyal like a dog."

It took a while for the joke to settle into the other man's brain. The wine had dulled his senses and his thoughts were settled on finding someone to quarrel with. When Haken's joke filtered through the layers of wine, the Headmaster chuckled and left, nodding at the jest.

"Yes, I understand loyalty very well."