Stacking the Deck

Friday ended with a whimper for Jones. Both Mueller and Massys were too busy dealing with Erich Adler to spend any time with her. Her services were neither needed nor wanted and it was clear that she was in the way. So, burdened with a heaped plate of food, she left the castle and returned to her cold and very lonely quarters.

Saturday morning, no news. Saturday afternoon, nothing. When Kessler rambled into the staff room that evening, Jones made a point of trying to make conversation. With the exception of Haken, who hadn't made an appearance all day, Kessler knew more gossip than anyone else. The only item he had to share concerned his newest conquest. She gave up in disgust.

Dinnertime, however, had an important clue: there was an absence of purple and silver retainers in the Great Hall and the great Heinrich Adler looked pale and nervous. His usual cadre of hanger-ons still clustered about him, but the lordling was too agitated to enjoy their company. Jones watched the knot of seventh years for the entire time Adler was there. The Headmaster's table was its usual distant fortress. No hint of a lurid story reached her. Annoyed, she helped herself to a second dessert and wondered if the Adler family name was such that Heinrich would go unscathed.

Sunday, was a day of great boredom, a long exercise in reading essays, grading essays and endless complaining under her breath. The folders of waiting homework very slowly got smaller. She'd tried working in the staff room, hoping for a bit of company for misery does enjoy companionship, but the room stayed empty except for her. She gave up in the afternoon and adjourned to her own cramped office where she could wear her disreputable slippers and smoke to her heart's delight. Progress was measured in the depth of ash accumulating around the ashtray and the density of the gray swath of smoke.

Wronski knocked on her door at dinnertime. Jones, lost in the meditative zone of analytic reading, barely heard him. It took a flat-handed swat to the door and a shouted, "Hey! I know you're in there. The entire hall smells like an ashtray!" to jar her back into the evening.

They arrived late to dinner. The tables had already been served and the conversation buzzed too loudly against the stone walls. She slowed to see what was on the menu: wurst, chicken, the usual overcooked vegetables and some variation of cabbage soup. The food in Adler's lair had been much better. Unenthusiastically, she took some of everything. It was food.

"Where's your favorite student?" Wronski asked as he precisely sectioned his wurst into slices.

"Favorite?" Jones snorted and looked up from her plate. Wronski jerked his chin towards the seventh years' table. The faces all looked the same to her these days. They all looked very young and something she couldn't quite define.

"Yeah, your buddy Heinrich. Where is he? Isn't he usually in the middle, facing us?" Wronski finished with the wurst. He began topping each slice with a pad of potatoes and then balanced a few peas to complete the structure.

Looking again at the students at the seventh year table, Jones realized that there was a subtle gap where Adler would have sat. The students hadn't scooted in to claim the space yet. The space was still there, as if it was being saved. "I've been grading all day. Have you heard anything?"

"Me? No, I've been busy, too." Wronski turned away from her to look down the table. "Haken's not here. I'd ask Siegfried, but he's got company."

The company was "this year's girl" who giggled loudly whenever Kessler spoke to her. Jones and Wronski shared a look of disgust.

"I wonder how I can find out?" Jones leaned as far forward as she could to see who was at the table. Of those present, only Kessler would have an inkling of what went on outside of the Dark Arts building. She suspected that Haken might know, but she still hadn't made up her mind about him. Best to leave him out of the equation. The rest preferred to stick closer to home, herself included most of the time. Now, she wished she'd built up a network of people to ask these sorts of questions.

"You could ask one of the Headmaster's aides," Wronski suggested, flinching out of the way when she poked at his arm.

"I don't want another one of 'those' interviews. Thanks. I'll just wait."

* * *

Monday's classes passed slowly. She had homework to return to both of her morning classes and lost valuable class time reviewing it. A whole day's worth of lecture gone. There was no way they'd finish the material for the year, an almost personal insult. She spent lunch looking for any sign of Adler. No Adler and the space where he had sat had been absorbed. The afternoon Ritual Magic I class passed pleasantly. Halfway through, Jones realized that her shoulders felt like someone was squeezing them in a vise and forced herself to relax. No Adler. No sign of Adler. No one looking at the place where he sat. His circle of sycophants took notes, but asked no questions. The silence from that corner of the room was like a drug. When her Special Projects class came in, Jones realized that at last she had someone she could ask about the missing wunderkind.

The Special Projects students were subdued. There were few questions and a rather lackluster response to her lecture. Over the years, she'd learned to pare her lecture down so there would be enough time to answer the inevitable questions and discuss the extra reading. Without any input from her students, even adding some of the missed material from the previous Friday, she ended early. The students, all lost in some inner turmoil, didn't react to the quiet. It was more than Jones could handle.

"What's up?"

As if roused from a deep slumber, various students startled awake or flinched. Dieter's annoying hand fluttering began, his ring sparkling repeatedly at his shoulder.

"Where's Heinrich? I haven't seen him or his lackeys all weekend."

It was like talking to a wall. Jones was tempted to try singing, just to see if there would be a reaction. "Well?"

"It was quite shameful."

The statement was whispered so softly she almost didn't hear it.

"What was shameful?" The question prompted much eye-lowering and uncomfortable coughs. "Would someone tell me what's going on!" she shouted.

"Please, Frau Professor, it reflects badly upon my cousin's family." Dieter slowed his fluttering long enough to look mournfully at Jones.

"Is he gone? He's not supposed to come back to my class until Wednesday. I'm one of his teachers. I'd like to know."

"His father arrived yesterday." That was it. No other explanation was given nor could she entice any others. Some sort of unspoken rule was in effect that those not of the circle would not hear anything about those within.

* * *

"Nobody's talking." Seated around the staff table, Jones handed a wad of pens and markers to Wronski.

"What did you expect? I still don't quite understand what happened." He dumped the writing implements onto the table and selected a red marker. "You said that Mueller and Jan showed up on Friday, you guys sang to the walls and then you got into that weird room. What was in there that prompted all this hush-hush stuff?"

Opening a folder of Ritual Magic I assignments, Jones winced. "I'm not really sure. The room had a bunch of junk that the kids had stolen. Dumb stuff. Signs, uniforms, things with names. I didn't see anything in there that would cause enough fuss to have Adler expelled." The first waiting assignment was dotted with grease stains. She had to wipe her hands repeatedly on a dusty tissue while she marked it. "Pot roast in brown gravy. Last Wednesday, I think."

"Pot roast is always on Wednesday. Just like we usually have fish of some sort on Friday and chicken on Sundays. I can tell you the day of the week by what's on the menu." Wronski scribbled a note on one of the assignments. "I don't know what this kid's first language is, but his German is horrible. His handwriting is awful, too. Seems to think that if he makes it illegible enough, I'll think he did the work."

The last assignment in the Ritual Magic I folder was Adler's or more properly Adler's retainer's assignment. The penmanship was a work of art. Professional scribe, no doubt. Wondering why she bothered, she read it through. The answers were mostly correct. There was no flash of brilliance in any of them, but the basic command of the material was there. As she put the final score at the top, she couldn't help but wonder who had actually done the work: Adler or the person with the beautiful script.

Tuesday had the hallmarks of business as usual. Although she was still horribly behind, the pile of homework folders had dropped back to a manageable stack of horrors. With a practiced eye, she calculated that, if she put extra effort into it, she could be caught up by the weekend and not have to do any work at all on one of the two days. Maybe she could do something fun for a change? The thought of fun stopped her. There wasn't a lot of fun to be had at the Institute and the thought of going back to the village left her feeling conflicted. She tried pretending that thought hadn't occurred to her while she taught her classes.

The last hour of her day, things changed. A note arrived, personally delivered by one of the administrative staff. While not one of the Headmaster's aides, it was just one step lower in the hierarchy. Whatever enjoyment she'd had from the day fizzled with its arrival. The contents of the note were terse; it held a time and a location, more than enough to make her stomach lurch.

When the three o'clock bells tolled, it had the somber tones of a funeral to Jones. Feeling as though she was about to walk the last mile, she unfolded the note and verified the time and location of her meeting. There was something strange there. Usually, whenever someone was called into the Administrative Office, the time was immediately after the teacher's last class ended. The time on the note was three-thirty, a rather generous period to walk from the dungeon, up three flights of stairs and then down a long hall. Maybe it was so the condemned prisoner could have a last cigarette? Maybe. Either way, she took it as a given and shivered just outside the castle doorway, which was shut tight against the winter wind.

The Administrative Offices were snapshots of a gaudier era, one with gilt edges and overdone carved wooden furniture. Portraits of past somebodies or others, no doubt important people in their time, graced the walls in well-lit niches. Unlike most of the castle where gray stone walls were the norm, the offices had been plastered a blinding white, the better to show off the Durmstrang arms displayed prominently and garishly upon the ceiling where it had been liberally covered in gilt. A long-faced man, clad in archaic, heavy red robes, stood waiting for her at the door of the designated room. His plastic face was pulled down in a perpetual frown made more pronounced by the long oval of his face. Bushy white eyebrows turned what would have been searing black eyes into those of a terrier. The lank gray fringe of hair that encircled the bald dome blended into the skin. If Jones hadn't seen him move, she would have sworn he was dead.

Jones trudged into the small meeting room, certain that this meeting had to be worse than the last. A pile of papers sat in front of the chair where the designated executioner sat. She took a deep breath and decided that whatever happened, she'd make the best of it. Spending a few hours every day in one of the libraries, listening to students not do their homework, how awful could that be? As she imagined that, the man unrolled a scroll that had sat with the paperwork. A scroll. She caught a quick glimpse of a blot of dark wax and the depression that was undoubtedly where a seal had been pressed. Official. Maybe something worse than babysitting in the library. Inside she cringed. They were going to make her move to one of the dormitories and be a matron there. That would be as bad as it could get. The man read the scroll thoroughly; it took long enough that Jones wondered if he had read it twice. Maybe it was worse than being stuck in a dormitory. Maybe she would get the dormitory assignment and have to do something else, too. With dead white hands, the man picked up the first paper on the stack, cleared his throat and read that in silence. Jones stared at his hands, memorizing the slack skin and thick tendons that stood like cords there. He put that page down and picked up another. Maybe she could scrape together enough money and buy her contract. How many years were left? Three? Two, if they didn't count this one. If she drained her bank account, hit Wronski up for a loan, maybe found a few freelance jobs on the side, she might be able to come up with enough money to pay her way out of it. Her computations were interrupted when he set that page down, picked up the two pieces of paper and tapped them into perfect alignment. He seemed about to speak, but then selected the third sheet. Jones' eyes widened as she tried to estimate how much more there was to read. A rough estimate of four more sheets remained. It was almost impossible to sit still and wait while each page was slowly read and examined.

"Look, why don't you just tell me what this is about?"

He stopped reading long enough to fix her with a dark stare, fully at odds with the quizzical eyebrows.

Intimidation only works when you haven't figured out how awful it could truly get. Without the Headmaster present, she doubted that her Binding Spell could be activated so physical pain wasn't part of the plan. If they threatened her with some odious duty, she could bargain to get out somehow. If they wanted her to make a public apology to the Adlers, well, she'd figure out a way around that, too. With those avenues of punishment mentally dealt with, the fidgeting began. Jones squirmed on the chair, drummed her fingers on the polished surface of the table, crossed a leg over her knee and bounced her foot... It was maddening to have to watch the slow progression of each page's movement. The task would not be rushed. By the next to the last page, she discovered that the molding that surrounded the roof was carved to depict a series of stories, most mythological. It was enough to occupy her mind and distract her from her upcoming punishment.

"Professor Jones." The man's voice was funereal. It wheezed softly, without intonation. "The Durmstrang Institute understands that the recent events concerning Heinrich Adler have been most unfortunate. As you have been made aware, many of the students attending this school have family tradition, some stretching for several centuries, of attending this very Institute. The Institute has been very fortunate to have their continued support. Through them, the future lies."

It was all she could do not to groan out loud or roll her eyes in disgust.

"While it is not endorsed, the administrative staff knows and has known for many years that there have been students who conduct private entertainments for their friends. True, it is not sanctioned, but many of these scions of the great families of Europe are well versed in the importance of maintaining and creating alliances. The administrative office understands this and has in the past turned a blind eye to such proceedings."

There was a lull. He folded his hands into an inverted prayer position and touched the tips of his fingers onto the table. Jones thought that the meeting might be over or maybe it was time for her to ask questions. "Well," she said, still formulating what she wanted to say.

"Professor Jones, it is through your efforts that a problem has arisen."

Her efforts... Her mouth went dry. A problem has arisen. This was going to be worse than she had imagined. Being tied directly to a problem was not a good sign.

"We at the Durmstrang Institute appreciate that some of our instructors feel that they must uphold the rules that are in place for our students' safety and define the conduct expected within this institution. It is your adherence to that role that has created this situation."

Another pregnant pause. She was definitely being connected as the sole owner of the situation. Not good at all.

"Through your efforts and those of the Aurors stationed at the Northern District office, a problem was uncovered last Friday. From meetings with Chief Auror Johannes Werner, the Headmaster was informed that there was a great deal of evidence within a certain room, hidden by many layers of spells and wards, that connected Heinrich Adler with a series of small crimes, which had occurred over the summer. The Adler family name has been sullied by the accusation."

She'd wondered how long it would take the Aurors to act upon the information. It annoyed her that none of them had come by to talk to her about it or to ask for a statement. Figures. Cops were cops after all.

"The Adler family is an old and well-established line. Their family has been associated with the Durmstrang Institute for many centuries. This school has benefited from that association. This incident reflects poorly upon the Institute as well. It is to this that you have been called here for this meeting."

Jones waited, anticipating that he would begin talking again after the annoying pause. He didn't. He sat motionless, staring at her until she wanted to reach over and tweak his nose, just to see if he was alive. Instead, after discarding several possible responses, she asked, "And what do you want me to do?"

The shaggy brows lifted in a tiny shrug. "The Adler name, so closely associated with this school's own, must be protected." Jones allowed herself to growl. Here it came. This would be when they would try to force her to drop the charges and either tell her to take it or fire her. "Auror Werner indicated that there were different avenues that could be pursued, should you allow it, which may resolve much of the incident." Was it her imagination or did those strangely folded hands tense? "The Institute is prepared to remove Heinrich Adler from your course and ignore much of your gross misconduct these last several weeks if you sign these forms." The top hand extended what looked to be an unnatural length as it pushed the small pile of papers towards her.

Gingerly, as if expecting them to be poisoned or cursed, she pulled them towards her with the edge of a nail. The lettering on the first one was illegible. All black letter calligraphy, densely packed together to the point that it was impossible to tell where one word started and another ended, the content was a mystery. The second made no sense at all. At best, she guessed that it said that she promised not to accuse the school of something or other. The third was the release of Adler from her course. The fourth had tiny lettering done in a quavering hand that spidered away to illegibility. The fifth was blank save for signatures. On the last were the signatures of the Headmaster, a spiky line with an angular flourish to some unknown descender of a letter; the Bursar (Jones raised an eyebrow at that one); Ulrich Adler; Heinrich Adler and, at the end, Johannes Werner.

"What do these say? I can't read the first two, this one is illegible and the last one is just signatures. I'm not signing anything without knowing what it means."

"Professor Jones, you are not being cooperative. The Headmaster himself said that this would be a possibility. Auror Werner also indicated that you might not wish to sign any of these papers. That is why I have been instructed to discuss other aspects of this with you." For an instant, the slack face tightened into a rictus of a grin. With that, Jones' last shred of belligerence began to fray. "The Institute receives regular correspondence from the Office of Magical Affairs. They have petitioned the Institute many times to have you returned to your country to face criminal charges. The Headmaster claims to have had no knowledge that you were accused of any misdoings before your contract was approved. It is within his power to release you to them."

"But," Jones squeaked and hated every word she had to say, "I'm a citizen of Norway. I saw the paperwork." She knew better than to say anything about the Headmaster. He knew that an active practitioner of the Dark Arts for hire would have some sort of criminal record.

"Yes. Auror Werner also mentioned that fact; however, the Durmstrang Institute is not physically within the boundaries of Norway. We have no official record of any nationality changes and as such may feel legally if not morally obligated to return you to your homeland to face whatever awaits you there." Then, he smiled. The slack muscles parted like a curtain to reveal savagely pointed teeth. "I have a letter from an Agent Peterson. Agent Peterson has outlined the procedure he anticipates should be used in your case. It is extreme, but understandable in such matters. Would you care to read it?"

She didn't have to. The face of the man Peterson had stripped of all magic was seared into her memory. That would be her, all nice and drained, if she went back. "If I sign this, then Adler goes away and everything else stays the same, right?"

"You are most perceptive."

* * *

Defeated and feeling drained, Jones clunked back to the Dark Arts building. She'd signed every page, just as directed and received nothing in return save the omission of her problem child from her life. She'd been played and discarded. Wronski waved at her when she walked in the door; she saw him, but it was too much work to respond. She made it as far as her desk before the shock wore off. Her satchel made a satisfying thud when she slammed it against the wall. She threw whatever her hands came to and punched her chair. It was so unfair! All of it! Why hadn't Werner protected her? Why hadn't anyone told her what was coming? Damn Auror bastards!

Without stopping to change, she stalked from the building to the guardhouse. "I'm going to the village."

"Professor Jones, we were told that no one was to leave today. Orders from the administrative offices." Niall, the older of the two, unrolled a parchment to show her.

"I need to go there for a few hours. I don't care about the rules."

"The Adlers can be very unpleasant." Gregor, the other guard, threw his hands up. "This latest one is very arrogant."

"What will it take to let me through?" She dug through her pockets, looking for anything that she could use as a bribe.

"Is it true that you brought the Aurors to show them his secret room?" Niall began rolling up the scroll, his mouth quirking into a smile.

"I guess." The pockets in the lining came up with several candy wrappers, a handful of notes and a roll of hard candy. She'd opened the last a long time ago. The end was dark with lint. That probably wouldn't do.

"I heard that it held mounds of treasure." Gregor, hunched against the cold, stomped his feet. "Was there truly gold?"

Gold? The kids had stolen junk, valuable only because it was identifiable junk and something they could point at. The most valuable thing in there might have been the grave marker. "Well," she began.

"And you brought the Aurors!" Niall turned to Gregor and the two howled with laughter. "I would have paid to have seen the faces on those brats when their precious party was cancelled!" Still laughing, his face now bright red, Niall pulled out the clanking key ring and unlocked the door to the Portkey.

Jones barely looked left or right when she stepped into the tavern. All conversation stopped. It was eerily quiet, enough to divert her from her angry internal tirade. Stopping where she was, she looked around. She was used to seeing the evil eye sign from the old men, but the same thing from the younger ones surprised her. What was their problem? The bartender leaned over at a strange angle and for a second, she was positive he would come back with a gun. Instead, the door to the backroom opened and Werner walked out.

"Professor Jones," he said with a disapproving look. "Come. Now." He held the door open and waved at her to hurry. When she passed him, just before the door closed, she heard him say, "It was an oversight. It will not happen again."

"What's an oversight?" Still angry, she stood still where she was.

"You should not have arrived like that. The coat," he tsked, shaking his head, "it has many bad connotations here. There have been problems in the past. You have heard of them. And yet you arrive still wearing it."

The Durmstrang red leather coat, with her name and department enchanted over the left breast, was definitely out of place. She knew better. It distracted her, but only for a second. "I need to talk to you. I was called into a meeting today with one of the administrative staff to sign a lot of papers. You were involved in it."

"They moved quickly," Werner sighed. "I thought that they would when such a prominent family was involved. Come, sit with us."

Massys, Mueller and Baldung had a table in the back corner. All were still in uniform. A half-empty pitcher of beer sat in the middle of the table with four almost full glasses arranged around it. Notebooks and reports were crowded next to the glasses. Their afternoon meeting had been disrupted and she felt a pang of satisfaction that she'd managed to screw someone else's day up for a change. Mueller handed her his glass, an apology in his eyes. She took it and downed a third in a long swallow.

"I feel set up. I helped out and just got screwed over for it. Your name was on one of the papers I was forced to sign. I want to know what happened." Her voice had no emotion.

With an arch of an eyebrow and a faint snort, Werner settled into his spot. He slumped into a comfortable position and reached for his drink. "The room that you helped Auror Massys and Auror Mueller find provided us with a great deal of evidence. True, no item by itself was enough to warrant a full investigation. The thefts were a violation of a long-standing tradition and could not be allowed to continue. The objects taken pointed to a certain maliciousness that could not be ignored. The Northern District appreciates your cooperation in the matter." With that, he smirked as he lifted his beer in a salute.

"Cooperation." Jones seriously considered showing him some "cooperation" and dumping her glass over him. "Did you know that they threatened to send me back to the States. Did you know that Peterson has been plotting to have me sent back so he could work me over? I thought you were trying to help me. I had to sign away whatever leverage I had. Cooperation!" Slamming her beer onto the table, the last shred of control broke. "Cooperation! I found those damn rooms and I figured out how to get into them. I help your people out and I get shafted. Without my help, your staff would be a lot smaller and you'd have to use Smith's precious machine and all the American methods to do your jobs. For my 'cooperation', look what I get! I thought you were my friends, but I know better now. A cop is a cop is a cop. Thanks a lot! Don't ask for any cooperation from me any more."

Her breath came in sharp gasps while she stalked away. It was always the same, wasn't it? There were no friends for anyone who worked in the Dark Arts. None. If you let your guard down, this was what happened. Every single time. She slammed the door behind her and stormed back towards bathroom through which the Portkey was accessed. The tavern had emptied by half and the few there shrank away when she passed. She had to stop at the door and wait until the unfortunate patron using it exited. It slowed her down enough that Mueller caught up with her halfway down the narrow hallway to the Portkey's room.

"Rose, do not be angry with me! It was not my doing." Looking hangdog, he folded his hand in front of him and waited.

"I don't care whose doing it was. I was the one who got the brunt of it. Do you have any idea how little fun it is to be informed that some rich brat is more important than you are and, by the way, if you don't do exactly as we want, then we're going to turn you over to have all of your magic sucked out of it so you can be a walking corpse the rest of your life! Thanks a lot!"

His shoulders sagged and Mueller looked at the ground, resembling a scolded dog more than a dangerous Auror. It put a small chip into her fury. "Why didn't anyone tell me what was going on? Why did you leave me to fall like that? I thought better of you."

"It was not my decision," Mueller mumbled. "If it was, things would have been done differently. I am very sorry."

Magic words, more powerful than the Avada Kedavra. "Sorry. Well, that's a plus." She sought for something else to say, but some things were best left unsaid. "I need to go back. It's a school night. I have homework to grade."

It was a cold, lonely walk back. Hungry as well. The Dark Arts building was deserted, meaning dinner was in progress. Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she crunched over to the castle and found dinner in the final stages. There was little left at the Dark Arts table. Gregorov was effective in finishing off anything left unclaimed and the platters were shiningly empty. He shrugged when she tried to find something to eat. The Defense Against the Dark Arts table still had food. Passing in front of the Headmaster felt like walking by a glacier. The administrative staff that flanked him either side muttered when she passed. "Troublemaker" was the one word she caught.

Jessup left as she arrived. Hyde or was it Berger? One of them left as soon as she took a seat and the other followed as his shadow. Only Heiniger remained. "Bad luck," he said and passed her a platter.

"Yeah. Bad luck. Well, I know better now." All the food looked and tasted the same. She filled her plate and picked at her meal. Heiniger left her to her dark thoughts. I know exactly where I stand with everyone here and there, too. It's all the same as it ever was. I thought I was a teacher, but I guess I'm still what I always was, just another Dark witch. It was sobering. And depressing. The hall emptied while she ate. Jones watched while the staff cleared the hall and, when they arrived at the DADA table, she finally left.

There was nothing enticing about going back to her quarters. She'd left a huge mess there that would have to be cleaned up when she got back. It was too cold to enjoy a walk outside. She really wanted to talk to somebody, but with her current status, she doubted anyone would want to be seen with her. Someone ought to be interested in her story. Something might be.

The top floor was a busy place. Seeing all the students still wandering around as well as the occasional professor, it struck her how isolated the Dark Arts professors were. Once the workday was through and they'd had dinner, they retreated to their own world that had nothing to do with the school. Inside the castle, it was impossible not to remember that Durmstrang was a school, not an address. The Defense Against the Dark Arts' library, however, was empty.

"Hey," she said and rapped the case above the book. "I took your advice and we found the rooms and we even got into them."

The book showed no signs of being anything other than a book.

"Hey!" She slammed her palm onto the glass. The book glowed dully. "Wake up! I want to talk to you."

"Look, I've been thinking, maybe you could teach me some other things."

You now wish to partake of my knowledge? The stone in the upper left corner pulsed an orange light. No. Your anger is temporary. It will not be enough.

"Not enough! No, I'm done with this nonsense. Maybe it's time to return to the Dark. I was an adept once. The Dark was generous." Her voice lost its confidence and she tried forcing it back again. "I know a lot already. You know more. Teach me."

No. It would not be true. What was once is not within you now.

Annoyed at the petty attitude, she laughed. "Yeah. Who else is going to work with you? It must get pretty dull up here by yourself."

There is another. I felt the energy. The other came. I thought for me, but for something else. I felt the Dark, the anger. I will call. The other will return. Very Dark. Very Powerful. More than enough.

* * *

"I can't believe it," she told Wronski. "First, I get screwed over by my friendly, neighborhood pet Aurors and then I get turned down by a work of the Dark Arts. Nobody wants me around." She lowered her voice when a passing student turned to look at her. Conversation in the hallways was always tricky.

Clearly uncomfortable with the topic, Wronski played with a pen, clicking it open and closed. "Probably just as well. The big Dark Arts stuff is dangerous. You told me that. I mean a book that gets into your mind, that doesn't sound good. Sounds more like a Loup-thing than a you-thing. Too bad about the Aurors, though. I thought you and Mueller were finally getting along. I was kind of looking forward to hanging out with Massys some more."

"Massys? I thought you two were on a first name basis." She managed a wan smile.

"Yeah, well, if you're not going to hang out with them, then I probably won't, either." He gave a one-shoulder shrug and then stood up, pointing at someone in the hall. "Hey! No magic in the hallways! You know that! That's ten points, Richter!" Richter, apparently the dark-haired bully who had another boy by the collar of his robes with one hand and, in the other, a wand, glared at Wronski but let the other boy go.

"Well, it's your last class of the day. I still have two to go. I hate Wednesdays." Jones yawned broadly and shuffled in to face her Special Projects course. The crowd wore guarded expressions. They watched her every movement while she lectured and no one asked any questions. Not a single one. It was creepy. When she ran out of lecture material, she tried to elicit any response at all. They stared at her until Dieter stood.

"Frau Professor, was it truly necessary to humiliate my cousin so? His honor has been tarnished and his father is furious. It will take a great deal to repair it. I understand that one such as you cannot fully understand the situation, but it is very grave."

"I didn't humiliate him. All I did was discover how he got in and out of the room. What's so humiliating about that?" Leaning on her podium, she searched the expressions of disbelief and disgust that crossed over their faces. "Would someone explain this to me?"

"It was very unkind of you, most unfeeling to have used poor Erich in such a manner." Dieter bit his lip, trying not to say anything else.

"Erich? Erich was the one who was used, cutting himself so you could use his blood to get into the party. What honor is that? Heinrich treated him like a slave or something." From the narrowed eyes and tightly set mouths on her students, she could tell there was something else she didn't understand.

"Erich," Dieter said sounding grave, "understands his role. He is not gifted with the power. His role is to serve the one who has it. It was cruel of you to reveal that it was a Squib and not the master that was of the true line. That was uncalled for."

Jones stood blinking at her class. In a weird way, she almost understood what they were talking about, but, each time she came close to grasping it, her mind refused. "So, let me get this straight, because it was Erich's blood and not Heinrich's blood, this reflects on the family somehow?"

"Truly, a stain upon the entire house of Adler. Heinrich's betrothed, my aunt, has threatened to break the contract. The effect ripples still through our society. Surely, you could have been more circumspect in your need to destroy my cousin?"

"Class dismissed." There was nothing she could say and so she said nothing else. They passed her desk silently, assignments deposited neatly where they should be, picking up graded ones from the other corner, all in silence.

When they had all left, she pulled out her chair and sank into it. It was very clear to her that she would never understand the rules to this world. It wasn't hers. Back home, a home she could never return to, everyone lived with everyone else. There was no established pure-blood aristocracy. She'd taught sixty other Special Projects students and never once been drawn into their strange social whirl. It was better that way. Better when she didn't mix with anyone except Paul at Durmstrang. Closing her eyes, she let herself sag back in the chair. She had at least a half an hour; maybe she could get a little nap in before the last class.

It was like a dream at first. All quiet, nothing seeming quite real. Even the voices sounded far away.

"Professor Jones," Johannes Werner said as he leaned forward. "I must apologize for the way you were handled. That the room and its contents were associated with a student with whom you had repeated problems with was an unfortunate combination of events. I did not know all of the details and have only recently been fully apprised."

Sleepily, Jones yawned, not for a moment believing anything she had just seen or heard.

Massys stepped forward and bowed. "I should not have allowed my personal feelings to interfere with the investigation. I was angry with the students and their insults. I should have prepared a more detailed report so that Chief Auror Werner was fully informed of all of the circumstances concerning the events surrounding the hidden rooms as well as the involvement of the Adler family before I registered the charges. I am at fault." Massys, however, reached out a hand and tapped hers. That changed everything. It wasn't a dream. Her room was indeed full of black uniformed Aurors.

"Did you two apologize to me or was I asleep?" She leaned onto one hand and looked from one to the other. "No. I must have been asleep. Jo doesn't apologize to anyone." Predictably, Werner squinted in annoyance at the nickname.

"I apologized yesterday, but please let me do so again. I should have made certain that you were protected when we placed charges upon Heinrich and Erich Adler. There was no way that you could have understood the depth of the problem. I am very sorry." Mueller not only bowed, but clicked his heels as well. He'd even dug out the ridiculous cap that went with the Auror uniform to add solemnity to his apology.

"It was unfortunate that you did not understand the depth of the problem," Werner said as he sat on the corner of a desk. "Had you understood the delicacy of the matter, things might have been different. The Adler family's reputation as a true line of great powers has been tarnished. There is even talk that the son, Heinrich's, parentage may not be true. Those are dangerous accusations."

"It's genetics, right?" Jones shrugged and found herself craving a cigarette. "At least I think it is. Skips generations now and then. Skipped last generation in my family. Why such a big deal?"

"Perhaps it would be considered so simply in your home country." Werner mimicked Jones' shrug.

"What, you mean Norway? I have no idea? Now, in foreign lands, I'm sure they could attribute some scientific background for it." From some depth, she struggled out a smile. Her smile grew when Werner choked out a laugh and Mueller's stiff posture eased. Massys, however, still looked unsure.

"Your analysis of the rooms, that was quite good. Your efforts were noted in the report that was sent back to our headquarters," Werner added. Jones' smile grew. It was the closest to a compliment she was going to get from Werner.

"Thanks. It was fun. I like puzzles."

"You should consider loaning your abilities more often," Mueller put in unexpectedly. "The Dark aspects are easier. That magic calls out and wants to be used. To defend against it, that requires more."

"Easier? Well, it has its price, too. Generous but never kind. This was different. I'm used to casting the spells, attaching them to the target, making sure it can't be traced back. Breaking down what was there and trying to figure out how to find it was different." The bells would toll soon for her last class and she wanted to end this pleasant surprise on an upnote. "Tell you what, give me a call next time you need help on a case. Might be fun."

"Hmmm." Werner stood and straightened his uniform into perfect order. "Thank you for the offer," he said in a voice bordering on sarcasm. He left, but the other two lingered.

"He will, you understand." Massys nodded towards the door. "Johannes takes offers of aid very seriously. And," he added, "he feels badly that he has caused you so many problems. He will never admit that, of course, but he spoke again with your Headmaster this morning." Massys walked over to the door and looked around then came back to stand close to Jones. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "The Adlers had to buy Heinrich's way back into Durmstrang. They have given money to build a new greenhouse and donated enough Nova 2000s to equip all of the seventh-year teams. It was very expensive. The school has won on all accounts. A large donation, new brooms for the Quidditch players, a family's pride restored and the chance to put you into your place. It is not often they receive so many benefits from one incident."

"He had to buy his way back in?" That put an entirely new spin on things and she savored it. "So, he really was expelled?"

"Yes. I saw the paperwork on Saturday. His father claimed him on Sunday morning. It took until yesterday for the negotiations to conclude." Mueller, still looking like a whipped dog, tried to smile and failed. "It cost the Adlers more than money. Although their son has returned to school, the knowledge that he had to rely on a Squib cousin has cast many doubts upon the house. It is a great scandal."

"I still don't understand how the pure-blood family thing works and I don't think I want to." Jones waved a hand in the air, dismissing the whole concept. "I'm proud to be what I am. That's enough. I'd rather be impressed by ability than supposed blood purity. Who cares?" She saw Mueller stiffen and Massys' eyes widen, but it was too late; she was already on a roll. Pointing at Mueller, she said, "You're a pureblood, right? So, what does it really do for you? Seems like most of these kids have their lives planned out for them. They get told whom they marry and what they do. Did your family plan your career out for you? When's your wedding?" She managed to stop just short of making a crack that he was getting a bit old to start a family.

Standing proud, Mueller took his time before replying. "It is difficult to explain. You would have to be a part of it to truly understand. Many things are ordained in the wealthier families, but not all pure-blooded families are rich. Many are, but there are as many who are not. Tradition is important. My family takes pride in being of service. I am the seventh to be an Auror, or what the position was called before that."

Jones looked at him, wishing at that moment that she'd managed to not say anything.

Mueller wore the look of offended pride slightly better than that of the whipped puppy. "The students who set the spells for the course exercise, they are of a different class than I am. You should not assume that all is the same across all pureblood families."

"So, what's different?" She expected some sort of recitation of place and purpose, but Mueller's small dark eyes narrowed to almost nothing.

"Many things."

With that, Mueller bowed and left. As soon as the hulking form crossed the door, Massys muttered, "His family is not wealthy. They wear their honor as armor. It is a fragile defense, but it is theirs." Mueller's heavy footfalls thudded up the stairs. Massys followed the sound looking worried. "He is not married. I supplied Paul with that information and thought he had passed it to you. Your outburst last night...." Massys shook his head, still looking upwards. "It could have been a weapon for the pain it caused. Both Hans and I felt we were at fault. When he discovered that Johannes had not been fully informed of all the details." Massys winced and cast his eyes downwards. "It was my fault, but Johannes took it upon himself. Normally, he verifies all aspects of an investigation, but this time he failed to do so. Instead, he looked no further than my report." Massys sighed, folding his hands behind him. "I allowed myself to omit certain details. I should have added that there were problems with yourself and Adler, but I was still angry about the 'Mudblood' references. None of us knew of the negotiations between the school and the Department of Magical Affairs. Johannes spent several hours with the Headmaster today, making sure that the threat of extradition would not be carried out. You should be honored."

"Honored." Jones squinted at Massys, trying to decide whether to let it slide or not. "I would have been more 'honored' if someone had told me what was going on."

A shudder passed over Massys. He began rubbing at his forehead, looking pained. "It was an unfortunate end to a grand chase." The first of the four bells tolled. He started at the sound. "I have already apologized as well as explained what has happened. Let me now ask that you allow this incident to end." Dully, he met her eyes and winced a smile. "Soon, perhaps I could buy you a drink. It is the least I could do."

The desire to answer that it was indeed the least he could do was overwhelming, but she managed to not take the easy route. "Yeah. Sure. That would be nice. Maybe around Christmas? It'll probably take that long before I'm welcome in the village again."

"Hardly." Lines furrowed into Massys' face and he shut his eyes. "Hans will need a few days to repair his armor. Johannes has already gone on to other things. Josef..." Massys shrugged. "Josef is the one who is angry with you. His wife is angry and therefore so also is he."

"What? She's related to Adler, too?"

"Of course." Barking a laugh, Massys held his hands up. "They are all related. Remember, I am also not a part of their world. This is almost as confusing to me as it is to you."

It was time to let this part of the problem go. With a little extra effort, she managed to sound cheery. "I wish I could have seen it when they expelled him. I'll bet the Headmaster looked like he swallowed something vile! Can you imagine..." She stopped talking when the first of the Detection and Dispersal students arrived. Lowering her voice, she stepped forward. "Anyway, maybe we can talk it over on Friday. You owe me a pitcher of beer and a game of pool. How's that sound?"

"Equitable." Massys nodded and then turned sideways to squirm through the students to leave the room.

Chuckling to herself, Jones dragged out a fistful of folders as she searched for the notes for the class. The satchel was its usual mess. Too many folders, too many loose pieces of paper, way too many candy wrappers, chip bags and crumpled cigarette packs. Ignoring the rabble, she began sorting through the graying manila folders, snapping them into piles according to class. Tonight, tonight for certain, she'd take everything out and clean out the mess.

"...him. He is the one."

The fragment was murmured just loudly enough to sift through the white noise of conversation. Jones looked up, expecting to see twenty expectant faces all waiting for her. Instead, half of the students had taken their places and the other half stood in a loose clump in front of her desk, all facing towards the door. She was too short to see over them and there were too many to see around. Class would begin soon and she'd yet to find the correct material. The folder had to be one of the few remaining ones.

"...too powerful they say. Did you not see what he did that night?"

Snap, snap, two more folders into the pile. Keeping her head down as if she was still busy, Jones leaned forward to eavesdrop.

"There was a huge scandal. It still has not finished."

"Yes! I received an owl from my uncle. He heard news in the Aachen office and wanted confirmation. Can you imagine! It has traveled that far already."

"It will not help. There is no money for promotions."

"This will not help a career. This will hurt it. The Adlers are very powerful."

"They are not powerful in Paris. There are only two from that family in the Brussels office and one is under investigation for falsifying records."

Fascinated, she settled into her chair and leaned forward on her elbows, hoping to hear more. All she could see was a wall of robes in varying degrees of red.

"I heard he was expelled. That will reflect badly on the family!"

"He is already back. I saw him in the hallway this morning."

"Did he get to keep his retainers?" Jones' question wasn't loud enough. Not one of the group seemed to hear.

"They had to pay."

"Pay? Truly?"

"Did he get to keep his retainers?" This time she pitched her voice low and said it as loudly as she could. The red wall cringed and swayed as the owners of the robes tried to figure out where she was.

"Frau Professor, you must forgive us. It is not often that something of this nature happens." The boy fumbled his way through a sloppy bow and then backed away from her to bounce against the desks.

It was all she could do not to laugh. They all looked as though they'd been caught doing something bad. Those who hadn't already taken a seat slunk towards their chairs. The ones who were already seated, studied their desks, careful not to meet her eyes. There was something ridiculously sincere about them; they all wanted to be so good. To keep the snigger from escaping, she made a production of opening her folder and paging loudly through her notes until she found the proper day. It gave the students enough time to compose themselves.

"Frau Professor?"

"Yes?" She didn't look up, afraid that she'd start laughing if she did.

"Please, there are rumors everywhere. Could you tell us, please, what has happened? Is it true that you and the Aurors have discovered the way into the room?"

After all the hell of the day before, salved over just a bit by the visit from "the boys", she was glad to have someone, anyone to talk to about it. Her attempt at attempting to look indifferent failed when several of them leaned forward to listen. Excitement rippled through the room and it made her feel much better about her situation. "Well, I figured out how to find the rooms and I also figured out how to get into them." So much for modesty. Her ego needed petting. "It was a difficult puzzle."

"How did you begin?"

It was wonderful. They hung on her every word, asked questions, laughed at the right places and looked amazed at others. It was exactly what she needed. On the second retelling, she gave Massys credit for his part and built up Mueller's contribution.

"He is very handsome," one of the girls in the second row said. She was a pretty child, all dark hair and dark eyes, beautiful in the way that only very young women were. The simple statement took a bit of the gloss off Jones' enjoyment.

"Which one?" The question sounded brittle. It took more effort that she would have ever admitted to smile and ask it again, this time with the proper inflection.

"Auror Massys." The dark-haired girl blushed when her friend giggled, but she wasn't daunted. "You are friends with him, no? Is he married?"

Teetering between relief and the desire to race down the hallway to tell Wronski that Massys was now the newest sex symbol in the Northern District, Jones snorted, a truly undignified sound. Damp, too. "Massys? Excuse me," she said, dabbing at her nose. "Auror Massys is not married. I don't think he's involved with anyone." His admirer arched an eyebrow and smiled knowingly at her friend in an "I told you so" way. Encouraged by the lack of interest in the other Auror, she began to babble. "And I know for a fact that he's not a pureblood and doesn't have a marriage arraigned." As soon as she said the last, she flinched. She never did know when to stop. To her relief, no one looked offended. Most were still smirking at the girl and only a few had what Jones thought of as the "offended matron" expression. She'd stepped over the line, but not enough to cause any massive sulking from the crowd. The difference between this class and the last was like night and day - or, she thought, flinching, like the Dark and the light.

"You should ask to see the District offices, Ursula. Perhaps the professor can arrange a private tour for you. Maybe you can ask to read his case studies and ask for tutoring," a boy from the front row laughed.

Ursula held up her hand, thumb and fingers together, and mimicked talking with it. "Perhaps I shall. It is not often that I could discuss my future career with an Auror of that caliber."

"Don't you think he's a little bit old for you?" Again, as soon as she finished, Jones winced inside. She didn't know these kids well enough to tease them. The comment crushed Ursula for a moment. Jones felt bad as the spark dimmed in the girl. "He's twenty-eight. I guess that isn't too old. Jo and Mueller are thirty-eight or thirty-nine. That's definitely too old." Feeling only a bit evil for making sure that Mueller was marked as "too old", Jones put on her best maternal smile and hoped it looked ok. "Maternal" wasn't one of her best modes.

"Do you think we could get a tour of the Auror offices?" One of the boys in the front row, eyes bright, asked.

"It isn't much to look at. Just a big room and some offices...." She trailed off. They were so eager. They all wanted to learn and be a part of something bigger. If they just weren't going to be cops....

"Please, Frau Professor!" The request came from several corners and she found herself laughing and nodding. Sure, why not?

"Which of the methods did you use for your initial detection?"

Caught in mid-laugh, Jones choked. How was she going to explain that she got her first clue by cursing at it and then the rest of the clue from a Dark book? They were all looking at her, waiting for her to share, to teach. It was easy to pretend that the redhead in the second row was Tim McClaine, the swarthy girl in the back corner could have been Roseanne Miller, maybe the acne-scarred boy on the far left could be Randy Holden. There had been a lot cops' kids in her high school classes. Most had gone on to continue the family tradition of duty. Tim had died from injuries when a driver he'd stopped for a routine check had driven over him. Roseanne had been partially disabled after falling off a roof while pursuing a purse-snatcher. Randy had moved away. She hoped he was still alive.

"I was lucky." She turned to face her blackboard and felt like a coward. Luck had little to do with it, really. Frustration had provided the first clue, but the Dark had given the second. It had recognized her for what she was and then rejected her later. What had it said? What was once is not within you now. Picking up a chunk of chalk, she tried to focus on today's lecture, another in a series of almost, but not quite useful ways to detect Dark magic. She had been lucky. Lucky that she was still alive, that the Dark hadn't consumed her. How many other practicing Dark witches had she met who were her age? Ten? Probably less.

Mechanically, she started writing what they'd covered thus far, meaning to continue onwards in that vein. The lecture topic for the Special Projects class was still there. There was something about her sprawl of notes on the boards that made her hesitate. She'd avoided teaching these students anything of real value because she felt like she had to protect herself. She doubted that she needed any real protection. The only active practitioner in the area was Loup and Jones had a sneaking suspicion that that Dark Mage would look at it as a challenge to dupe the Aurors. Protecting Loup was hardly necessary. That left the effete snobs, the rich brats who scorned anyone who wasn't of their status, who didn't have pure enough bloodlines or a family to pay their way. That had always galled her to some degree or another. Having grown up in a working-class family, the spoiled rich kids annoyed her. She'd taught several very talented students who, if they chose to continue their studies, would be formidable practitioners. She'd heard from two; both had written to tell her of their wedding plans. No mention of the Dark Arts or any additional studies at all.

"Luck," she heard someone whisper. "I overheard Auror Werner say she is one of the most powerful witches he has ever met. He said he has learned a great deal from her."

Looking over her shoulder, she caught the tall boy who had been sent that first day of class to fetch her talking to the acne-scarred boy next to him. What surprised her was how proud the taller one looked. Proud? Of her? And Werner had said something nice about her? He learned something from her?

"She will need the luck. The Adlers will not take the insult lightly nor will the other families aligned with them. I have heard that the Hasses have also claimed insult to their honor."

"My uncle is assigned to the Central District. Last year, his wards were broached. Someone killed his dog and left three traps for him. It was only by luck that he found two of them. My cousin was not so lucky. The paralysis wore off after four months."

"I could use her luck. I have been accepted for training. I hope to be assigned back home in Zvornik. The Dark Arts are widely used there."

Aurors. Cops. It was easier to think of them that way than as someone's uncle or as a student who wanted to go home to make things better. If the Adlers and the Hasses planned to cause problems for her, she wasn't particularly worried. After all, she owed Werner a favor and he always collected them. She found the idea strange, but she knew that he would protect her. He'd failed once and now his personal honor was at stake. What an odd thought: Werner, an Auror, would make certain that nothing happened to her. Of course, if the Adlers and the Hasses were insulted enough to cause problems, they could easily turn to the Dark Arts.

A competition. Just what she didn't want.

"Have you applied yet?"

"Yes. Professor Jessup has written a letter of recommendation for me." The voice quavered. "He said that I will need to improve my defenses. I need to be faster."

Faster. Harder. Smarter. Words Jones remembered from other instances. You have to be faster! You have to hit them first. You may never have a second chance. Put more power into your magic. You only get one chance most of the time. It has to be fatal. Stupid gets you killed. Not pretty thoughts.

"If they accept me, I will be the fifth in my family to serve."

She finished chalking up the last of the list and turned around to start her lecture. Obediently, everyone shuffled their papers and got ready to take notes. On the desk was yet another list of almost useless spells. In front of her, a bunch of kids who had learned everything they knew about the Dark Arts from books and lectures. She doubted any of them had ever seen the Real Thing. Unlike her own students. Not fair. What is fair? A glimmer of doubt settled in. She'd served the Dark for years. It hadn't bothered her then. Her only concern had been for her own and her client's safety. Back then, "they" badgered her, hauled her in for things she'd done, hadn't done or just to harass her. They'd never had enough proof to do more than that. "They" were the enemy. Still were. This "they", though.... Her conscious squirmed. If she counted her friends, what few there were, most of them wore a black uniform these days. Funny how things change. No friends in the Dark Arts; only peers and rivals.

The innocents waiting to be slaughtered sat ready to follow where she led them. Them. They looked a lot like she used to a long, long time ago. A lot like Wronski did now and like her family back in a place she could never go again. Her notes looked false on the desk. Didn't seem the least bit fair.

"Professor?"

All bright eyes, all trusting faces. The balance tipped. The book was right. It just wasn't in her any more. At least not now. Not without a good reason. They were targets, too, just like her if the Adlers and the Hasses didn't calm down. They'd seen the room's destruction, knew the story and weren't the right social class. She doubted they all were purebloods, not that their bloodlines would protect them if it came down to an actual conflict. She couldn't teach them the tricks of the trade. That was too much. At the very least, she could stack the deck enough so they wouldn't die foolishly. Not Dark, not light - a balance. Enough to salvage a bit of her soul at the expense of just a bit of professional pride.