Stacking the Deck

Chapter 15

Monday mornings were the worst. Even the morning bells tolling for classes to start sounded grumpy. It didn't look to be a good Monday, either. Behind in her grading, short on sleep and two pairs of socks away from having to do laundry, Rose Jones felt as though she was a part of the Red Queen's race and losing ground. The only thing that had gone right was she had managed to get to the Great Hall in time for breakfast - something she almost never did. Dinner had ended by the time she'd returned to Durmstrang and the kitchens, closed and dark. She'd considered sneaking in and looking for something to eat, but a sharp tingle warned her that the entrance had an eye spell placed on it. The Cernere undoubtedly would alert someone and the last thing she wanted was to cause trouble with the kitchen staff. It was one thing to annoy the administration, another to run afoul of the people who fed you.

Breakfast was very strange. She knew that almost none of the Dark Arts faculty ate breakfast, but it hadn't sunk in until she sat alone at the table. Without all of the other bodies stuffed behind it, the table was huge. It was also lonely. Across the hall, she could see Heiniger, Jessup, Berger and Hyde (or was it Hyde and Berger?) eating. It was tempting to pick up her food and join them, but that meant crossing in front of where the Headmaster sat and, after Friday, she hoped to keep out of his way. Nothing had been said about the scene with hidden rooms, Aurors breaking through defensive spells and wards and alcohol. She hoped it stayed that way.

Her day through lunch was blissfully quiet. There were the usual problems: students forgetting their homework, attentions wandering, note passing, at least one case of groping in the back corner and one boy attending class with a loud and liquid cold. Her lecture during Blood Rites I could barely be heard over the nose-blowing and coughing. Each cough made her skin crawl. The last thing she needed was a cold. As soon as the class ended, she pushed her way to Wronski's classroom to ask for something that would sterilize everything around where the student had sat. Wronski surprised her. He knew not one, but two, different spells that did the same thing. He also gave her some bleach to use as a disinfectant. She took no chances. Wronski had a chance to show off while she sprayed down all of the desks. The lingering smell of bleach improved the lunchtime aroma of wurst and cabbage.

Things went wrong after lunch.

All day long, she'd been dreading the second Ritual Magic I class. People dragged in late, half of the students had either forgotten their homework or left it upstairs in the Great Hall and there was Heinrich Adler. Adler and his cadre of fans were among the ones who arrived late. Jones wasn't surprised; she'd expected something of the sort after Friday. If Adler had looked the great lord in his hall on Friday night, then Monday he strove to reinforce that image. Instead of his usual one retainer to take notes, he had a retinue of four, all in his heraldic colors. The purple and silver clashed with the blood red robes of the students and, since there were only so many seats, two of the four were forced to stand on either side of the classroom. Annoying didn't even begin to describe the situation.

The problem started after the first half-hour. Already late because of the stragglers, Jones felt rushed for time. This class was still behind after the "guest lecturer" of several weeks earlier. Try as she might, she'd been unable to catch up. Something always seemed to get in the way. She could almost hear the schedule slipping when she started her lecture about repelling rituals, a topic that followed nicely on dispelling, the last major topic. She'd barely begun when it started.

"Were you impressed?"

It took a few seconds for the question to register. Once she started lecturing, especially for Ritual Magic I, she was on automatic. She realized that someone had spoken when she paused to take a breath.

"Did someone ask a question?" she asked.

None of the few students who did ask questions in the afternoon section had their hands up. In fact, almost none of the students were looking at her. Guilty expressions, smirks, a few wide-eyed faces made up the group on the right hand side of the room. On the left, she saw smugness and arrogance, mostly personified in Adler and his circle.

"Heinrich," there was something satisfying about calling the particularly problematic students by their first name, "you had something to add?" Her hand itched to pull out her wand, just in case there was trouble.

"I asked, Frau Professor, were you impressed?" Students asking questions usually stood to do so. Adler lounged at his spot, one hand posed to flick as though waving off a minion.

Jones cleared her throat and considered ignoring the question. While tempting, it was clear that Adler intended to keep asking it or a variation until he got an answer. She wished she could send him to the principal for being a problem, but, in this case, the Headmaster would view her as the problem, not him.

She carefully chose her reply. "The wards were very impressive. A lot of energy went into those." Adler looked pleased. It might have ended there, but her mouth got ahead of her brain. "Any idea when they were set? They had the feel of something done a long time ago." Damn! The second she said it, she knew she'd lost control of the class. Too late to call the question back, she had to wait while the results played out.

The great lordling rose and assumed his thumbs-in-belt stance. Looking large, blond and very much in charge, Adler beamed at his audience. "The work is very old. I believe the inner wards, the ones the Mudblood Auror did not break, are at least 300 years old, perhaps older. There is no record of their actual dates, of course, but the other chamber was recorded as 1842, a much newer example."

Jones caught her breath. There was another. Hating herself for having to string him along, she asked, "The outer layer of spells, they were all set up to distort and deflect. I was impressed with the way spells reacted to the shell. Is that the usual manner of display?"

One of the retainers winced and looked up at his master. The master, however, was preening. "It decoys well, no? My family's work is superb. You must admit that the result clearly demonstrates superior ability in the arts."

"Yes." She had to fight back the retort that some of his ancestors certainly were well versed in the Dark Arts, but he had a way to go. "I was impressed. You've been using that place for years and no one ever caught on." The last was too much. Adler's aura of smugness vanished.

"It would have remained so had you not been led to it."

"True," she admitted. "You must have made someone very angry for that to happen." Adler's brow furrowed so she quickly continued, "I don't think we could have broken it if Auror Massys hadn't been there." Standing near the door, just within her peripheral vision, Erich, the young man Adler had pointed out as a Squib, sniffed. Jones felt sorry for him. Having to serve someone like the great Heinrich Adler must be a continual drain. The family resemblance between the two was striking. The only difference was that little spark of magic.

Adler seemed caught between replies. "The Mudblood Auror is unnaturally powerful," he conceded at last. "You do not feel you could have broken the wards?" The last was said in a rush. Jones realized for that moment that Heinrich Adler, no matter how rich and self-important, was still only seventeen. He had revealed in that question that he considered her more powerful than he let on. It was enough to bring a smile to her face. For a second.

"I might have, given some time. Instead, I got to watch how the Aurors work. As a Dark Arts professional," she pulled out her ace, "I don't usually get to see how the other half does its part." She watched his confidence fade just a touch and the teenager peer out. "I'd like to give it a try. Why don't we set up a time?"

The bait dangled there and, for an instant, she thought he'd take it. One of his retainers coughed. One of the ones standing scuffed his feet. That was enough. The cloak of privilege and status resettled about him and any vulnerability was lost. "Ah, but Frau Professor, first you must find it!" Looking again like a great lord, he squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. Several of the girls sighed. Jones groaned inwardly. " My father has written the Headmaster about the disruption of my party."

"What about it?" The lecture was over, destroyed in the battle for status.

"I feel that my family was dishonored. Without the intervention of Auror Baldung, you would have attempted to assault my good name and those of my guests. It was uncalled for and," Adler's smile hinted of revenge, "I demand an apology."

"An apology!" Jones caught herself before she cut loose. Taking a deep breath, she tried to control her voice. "An apology? For what? For trying to enforce school discipline? You may be right about the lack of enforcement regarding alcohol policies, but there were other things in that room, too. I don't think you want me to talk to your father about that."

"You have no proof." Said with utter confidence, Adler crossed his arms and settled back against his chair.

"How do you know?"

"I know."

It was a draw - her bluff against his. Her concentration was shot and there was still a lot of time left before the end of the class. She felt petty. If there was any way she could chip away some of that smug self-assurance, she wanted to give it a try. The scavengers that made up his circle stood ready to pounce on his command. The question of who was in command hung in the balance. Choosing to tip it to her side, she looked away. A smug chuckle ran through the corner where Adler sat. "Take out something to write on and something to write with. I want an essay comparing and contrasting the opening rituals for summoning, dispelling and now repelling." The class groaned. Keeping her eyes on the class notes, she could just see the students. Most looked sulky, but they were starting the assignment. A few glared at Adler. The elite circle were confused and moved slowly to start the assignment. She took her time scanning her notes and then looked up to match Adler's challenge.

It was a long hour until the bells rang and an even longer few minutes while the Ritual Magic students filed out of the room. Adler's entourage framed him and processed out as if nothing happened. It wasn't until the last purple and silver robe passed out of sight before she could relax enough to let go of the edge of the desk where she'd stood. Half-circle indentations marked where she'd dug in her nails. Her shoulders ached from the tension and, as if it had waited as well, a headache pounded full-blown. It was only October. School didn't end until June and Durmstrang didn't allow students to drop classes. She understood why Gregorov used to drink so heavily and why he still snuck a shot of vodka with Kessler whenever Loup wasn't watching. Maybe Kessler would pour her a shot, too, next time.

The Special Projects class took their seats and waited for her to start their lecture. The headache got worse. She pulled out her notes and placed them on the podium, but all she could do is stare at them and massage between her eyes. It was no use. She couldn't concentrate. "Does anyone have any questions? Any comments?"

"How many levels of wards were there?"

"Those were set with blood? Or something else? We have never covered anything that powerful. I took Professor Lowenstein's course on warding and nothing like that was covered."

"I heard that a spell I set was on top of an older one. Is it true that Margraeta's nose and mouth became sealed and that one of the Aurors had to undo the spell?"

The questions spilled into a noisy heap and the students shifted their attention from a suffering Jones to each other. They argued theories and gossiped about what they'd heard. She let them. Her head hurt and her stomach was following its lead. She could almost hear a countdown to her next meeting with the Headmaster. There was no way she would apologize publicly. None. Unless he made her. And he very well might. While they babbled, she slid a hip onto the edge of the desk and wondered if a preemptive attack on Adler was worth the possibility of getting in very big trouble. Slowly, she focused back on her notes and tried to read them. The conversation level was beginning to fade and she needed to do something with them.

While the class still chatted, Jones studied the group. They were the best and the brightest of the Dark Arts students. They were also members of old and established families. Like Adler, their Durmstrang red robes were made of rich fabrics, some with fashionable variations. Almost all wore jewelry of some sort: a ring, pendant, earring, or broach that winked brightly when they moved. With one last push hard into the pain between her eyes, she looked again. Pretty things, the jewelry. Large rings set prominently on index fingers, bold pins, belts set with animals and symbols. Very indicative of status and family. Dieter's fingers fluttered at his shoulder while he listened to Veronika. The silver ring flashed and then went still.

The tidbit gave the headache something to feed upon. Her concentration returned and she managed to give the lecture and answer questions. The tolling of the bells calling for the end of that class period surprised her in mid sentence. Obligingly, she finished what she had started to say and reminded them about their reading. Then, she waited. The first few darted out the door, no doubt heading off to another lecture or appointment. The next group left a few moments later. Dieter hovered at the end. Jones smiled. She didn't have to hunt him down.

"Frau Professor," Dieter said, hand drumming nervously at his shoulder. "I understand that Heinrich may create trouble for you. That was not intended."

"What was intended? Why did you set him up?" The room hadn't emptied yet, but, once she asked her questions, the remaining few disappeared. The conversation had the taint of unpleasantness.

"He and I," Dieter's eyes, looking enormous although smudged with their black liner, rolled, "have had a few problems over the summer."

"And you thought having me catch him at something would be a way to get back at him. Great. Thanks a lot." She fought to keep her voice even. "So, did you get what you wanted?"

"Professor Jones, truly, I did not believe that it would go that far. I do not think they did, either. No one knew that the room was so well protected. I had thought it would be difficult to find and that there might be a few small wards to break, but nothing of that nature." His hand fluttered again, the signet ring bright against the robes. "The wards were set by death, were they not?"

"They didn't know about all those layers?" Seizing on that, she wondered how much or how little the students did know.

"I did not. In all of the times that I have been inside, I have never sensed anything more unusual than any other guarded room."

"You've been inside before?" Jones blinked, wondering what was going on. "Wait a moment. You've been inside. I thought you had some sort of problem with Adler since you brought me down there."

"Well, yes," Dieter agreed. "Almost everyone I know has been a guest at one time or another."

"Everyone? The other class obviously hadn't."

Looking bored, he raised an eyebrow and sniffed. The Goth was overlaid by the rich pureblood. "All of those in the correct circle."

"I see." And she did. All of the rich students whose glittering orbits intersected were admitted. The poorer students, the ones of questionable parentage were not.

"Were you looking to get Adler arrested?" Part of the equation still didn't make sense to her.

"No! No! I merely thought to frighten him."

It still didn't make complete sense to her. While she scrutinized Dieter for any other clues, he nervously fluttered his hand and then started talking again.

"Why would I wish to get him arrested? It would cause ill will between our families."

"Your families." Jones let the words flow over her. "Your family and his are related in some way? Of course you are. Probably married into each other five times over." Grinding her teeth at the thought, she began stuffing folders into her satchel.

"Why yes. He is contracted to marry my aunt this summer. It is a very good match for her and not a bad one for him." Dieter nodded as though he approved.

"Your aunt?" Why did she have to fish for information? None of the family lines made any sense to her. "Aunt? Wouldn't that make her older than him?"

"Oh, yes. But only by a decade. There are many years left to produce heirs." It was so matter-of-fact that Jones' eyes widened. Dieter tossed back his carefully ragged hair and regained his air of boredom. "She is an heiress in her own right and received a large estate after her first husband was killed." He made it sound like common knowledge. "I myself am contracted to marry a cousin of his, twice removed."

Listening to the genealogies and marriage contracts of the great families of Europe was not what she was interested in. There was something to the tilt of Dieter's head that reminded her of elderly aunts discussing who was married to whom and how everyone was related. That wasn't what she was interested in.

"So, the room...." Jones caught him just as he inhaled, ready to expound upon the to be avoided relationship discussion.

With a shrug, Dieter said, "Yes, the room? What of it?"

"Can anyone get into it? Do they have to be invited? How do the wards recognize who can enter?" She watched as the annoying flutter increased.

"I am not certain. I do know that Heinrich controls it. Before him, his cousin Johan and before that an uncle, Wolf, determined who could enter. His family alone can pass through the wards. The rest of us must be allowed in."

Things began to click into place. "So, once you're allowed in, there's a way the wards recognize you for future parties, right? Unless Heinrich unallows you, right?"

"Yes." His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"There are other rooms like that. I know there are. Adler told me."

Dieter said nothing. The annoying flutter ceased.

Shaking her head, Jones closed her satchel. It looked as though she was ready to leave for the day. Dieter turned away to go and that was all it took. She felt only a small twinge of guilt when she pulled her wand. It seemed a shame to have to force the information. If Adler was going to cause trouble for her, she wanted to know as much as possible. What Dieter knew, she wanted to know. Placing him under her will was simple enough. Dieter trusted her and wasn't ready to fight. The smudged eyeliner made him look younger than seventeen.

"Take me to another of the rooms," she ordered and shoved him out the door.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she shoved him out into the hallway. Like a sleepwalker, he trudged up the stairs to the next level and turned left. While she passed that level every day, she couldn't remember ever visiting any of the rooms there. The hall had a stale smell to it, overlain heavily with mouse. Dieter shambled down the hall, down the long, dark corridor to the where it ended in a "T". Instead of turning left or right, he stopped.

"There's one here?" Half-tempted to settle in to test for one, she realized that Dieter's eyes were rolling and he was hyperventilating. "How many others are there?"

"Not sure," he whined between his clenched teeth.

It was frequently difficult getting precise information out of people under the curse. Not always, of course, but most people under its effect didn't want to tell what they knew and some could fight it off. Dieter's feeble attempts seemed confined to trying to keep his mouth shut.

"Show me another."

He rocked back and forth, unable to go forward or back until she pulled him away from the wall and shoved him again. He didn't go very far, just to the end of the corridor to the right and then stopped again in front of a narrow door. It looked to be a closet. Inside, it was a closet, complete with cleaning supplies.

"This isn't it, is it?" Jones sighed when Dieter began rocking again. "Open it."

"Noooooo."

"Ok. Let me." It was a wild guess, but worth pursing. She grabbed the hand with the signet and pushed it into the wall next to the closet. The ring clattered on the stones. Dieter giggled in a hissing sound. She clacked down the wall until it sank into a stone. The giggling stopped and they oozed in. The room itself was unimpressive. Dimly lit only by a familiar glyph, it had the dank smell of a place unused for too long. A pile of rubbish decorated one corner. "When was it last used?"

"Not sssuuurree." The rocking stopped and escalated to vibrating. "Why? What do you want to do?"

Jones shrugged. "Mostly, I just want to understand how it works. I'm not sure if I want to do anything else. Your cousin is a pain in the ass."

The giggling started again. It grew too shrill in the tiny room for comfort so she shoved him out and staggered after. The wards dragged at her. The effect was of pushing through a thick gel. It had been easier going in, but she'd been closer to Dieter then. Proximity helped.

"Any more?"

Dieter's mind rebelled as best it could. He keened and began trembling. Jones winced at the noise. She knew how they got into the rooms and where two were. Dieter might end up hurting himself if she kept him under much longer. It had only been a few minutes. Not enough time to worry about; bridging the gap in time should be simple if she hurried. Grabbing his arm, she hauled him back to the staircase and back down to her classroom. She manhandled him back to where they had been talking and cast the spell. "Obliviate!"

Some people claimed that the spell erased up to a half an hour, others said it worked only until the last major memory, most said they weren't sure, but it worked best on recent memories. Anyone who had ever dozed off in class or had their mind wander during a conversation knew what the Obliviate spell felt like - as if a blip had occurred and they'd missed it.

"So you're related to Adler by this upcoming marriage only or closer than that?" Jones asked. His eyes dulled as he came back into control. Dieter's memory was trying to tie into what it knew happened last. Any anchor would do

"Yes." He sounded confused while his mind tried to correlate between a last memory and what he had just heard. "Yes. On my mother's side, there is a cousin who married into that line."

"That's nice." She watched as he blinked back into the same time frame, examining his every expression, looking for anything that warned he would remember the wrong thing. "Make sure you do the reading. I'm thinking it might be time for a quiz on Wednesday."

"Yes. A quiz." Slowly, a smile creaked across his face and his hand fluttered to its spot on his shoulder. "Wednesday, then." He bowed, turned and left, leaving Jones to wonder what to do with the information she had.