Pride

Chapter 3

The school had begun ringing the bells again. Loup was startled awake by the sounds of six bells. Dinner would be served soon. Groggily, she opened her eyes to find herself in a strange room. She rolled over onto her back and listened to someone else breathing. Her eyes grew wider as she realized where she was and what she had done. Although a bit sore, she felt a lot more relaxed and quite hungry. Slowly, carefully, she rolled out of the bed and looked down at the sleeping Lester, his pale form turned away from her. Pretty, she decided. His tall, thin frame curled up on the far side of the bed, his pale skin and hair a stark contrast against the green sheets.

Gathering up her clothes, she crept into the living area and got dressed. She was unable to find her socks for a while but the wolf's nose found them out under the couch. She pulled her robes on over her head and tugged everything into place. Six bells. Her stomach rumbled in response to that thought. She thought briefly about waking Lester, but, strangely, that held no attraction.

Humming to herself, she trotted down the stairs and made her way into the Great Hall. Even without the students, the noise level from the faculty's conversations was loud. Voices bounced around on the stone walls and ceiling. She swung around the large doors to go to the Dark Arts' department table. All of the professors were present and busy comparing summer stories. She got only a few glances as she sat down in a space that Gregorov created forcibly by sliding over. She grinned her thanks then sat down and began to fill her plate. Gregorov grew very still. Still holding her fork, she looked up at him, confused, and watched as his face went from smiling to angry. "What?" she asked. In response, he sniffed. Her face went red and she dropped the fork to clatter loudly on the table. As she began to stammer an explanation, Gregorov got up from the table and left. Conversation stilled and all eyes turned to her.

"What is wrong?" Haken's voice held more than a little suspicion in it.

"Nothing. It's personal," she murmured to her plate.

Gregorov's vacant place shrunk as bodies adjusted themselves to the added space, placing Kessler next to her. He gave her an odd look as he began to cut his meat and then suddenly, he, too, had an accusing look on his face. "You are an even bigger fool than I had thought." Kessler stared at her and pointedly sniffed in her direction. "Lester? You turned your back on Yuri for Lester?" Kessler's voice boomed throughout the stone hall. Teachers and other staff members left off their conversations to stare at the Dark Arts table. Loup tried to slouch as low as she could, but she was too tall to be able to get out of sight. "There is no room for you here. I suggest you leave."

Face burning, Loup crept out of the room. Stupid! How stupid could she be? The entire table was filled with other Animagi. They all used their sense of smell as others used their eyes to identify people. Her infidelity was now public knowledge. Seating herself back on the bench in the hallway, where she had been just hours before, she buried her face in her hands. Now what? Yuri was furious with her. He had every right to be.

"Why?" the annoying little imp changed to sound like Kessler. "You're not married to him. You just live with him. He doesn't own you. He just saved your life. He doesn't appeal to you. You just made him look like a fool in front of all his colleagues."

"Is there a problem?" a cool, aristocratic voice asked.

Loup looked up to see Lester standing in front of her.

"Never have sex and then sit at a table full of Animagi." She looked away from Lester, back at the Great Hall doors, wishing she could take back the last several hours.

"Pity. Well, off to dinner. Perhaps another time." Lester turned and walked into the Great Hall, leaving Loup to feel even more miserable.

She spent the better part of an hour gathering her courage before she walked back to the offices. This far north, it was still twilight and the gray shadows enfolded the castle like an old shawl. She pulled herself up as tall as she could and marched through the door into the hall, and there she stopped, stunned by the sight of all of her boxes and bags piled in the hallway with her black cloak neatly folded on top. Gregorov was not interested in an apology. He had left his message plain for any to see.

Her hand shook slightly as she ran it over the top of the nearest box. There must have been twenty of them in the hall, and her four suitcases stood in a row next to the staff room. Biting her lip, she looked once at his door. There was no point in trying to talk to him now. She draped her cloak over her shoulder, then picked up the nearest bag and left. Once outside, she had no idea where she was going. None at all. Following the wall, she strode along blindly. Her guiding stones led her over manicured lawns and then into places where brush and trees had grown up. Branches caught at her hair and sleeves. The suitcase bounced regularly against bushes. Near a cluster of saplings, she tripped over a tree root and fell onto her knees. The pain woke her, forcing her to focus on the here and now. Sitting down, she leaned against the wall and tried to think her way through her situation. Nothing appealed.

Of her options, the least likely was getting Gregorov to take her back. He might, given a few days to calm down, but he would make it a humiliating experience. And, she had to admit to herself, she probably deserved it. The next most unlikely thing to occur would be to get someone else in the department to let her sleep on the floor. For an unfriendly group, they were inclined to present a united front at the least likely times. She dusted off her knees and tried to select a more possible choice. Lester? She turned that thought over, not liking it any better than the image of trying to wheedle floor space from Haken or Wronski.

A dog barked and her attention drifted towards the small cottages that many of the castle staff lived in. She watched as lights came on in some of their windows. Four stayed dark. Better than sleeping under a bush. She stashed her bag in the darkness by the wall and transformed into her black wolf shape, creeping like a shadow towards the cottages. Sniffing around each one, she confirmed that three of the four dark cottages were unoccupied. The only scents were of dust and mice. A bit of detective work showed that two of them were unlocked. Quietly, she opened the door of the closest one and went in. The cottage was small, but it had a roof. It would give her a place to think and plan at least for a night. The tap released some rusty water that cleared in a short time. A closet held a musty fold-up cot. Almost better than she could have hoped. She changed back into the wolf and ran back for her bag. From her place by the wall, she could hear voices and watched as the Dark Arts professors walked back from the castle. The sound of Rabe's voice drifted over. Even from where she crouched, she could hear the sarcastic bent. During a pause in his diatribe, everyone else laughed. The laughter was a reminder of not belonging over there. Not belonging anywhere. Bitter, she kicked the wall until her foot ached and then hauled her bag back to the cottage.

The little cottage was colder than she expected. She found a bowl under the sink and filled it with water. It took two Cale charms to heat it to a comfortable temperature. Using a shirt as a towel, she tried to get rid of the Lester scent. It seemed to hang heavily in a cloying miasma. She filled the bowl twice more and tried to rinse herself clean. After the third bowl, she realized that the scent was gone and her own guilty conscience provided the memory. "Great. Just great." She sat down on the cot, staring at the wall until her nodding head jerked her awake. Snarling at her own stupidity, she pulled off her boots and wrapped herself up in her cloak. The cold mountain air sank into the room and set her shivering until her teeth chattered. It would be useless trying to sleep. Too cold for a person but as a wolf that she found the temperature comfortable. Curled up, nose tucked under her tail, she finally dozed.

* * *

The six o'clock bells seemed to sound too early. She cracked an eye open and was disgusted to find it already light. Her stomach growled ominously, reminding her that it had missed its dinner. Figuring that things could only improve with food, she dug through her suitcase, looking for something to wear. On top of neatly-folded clothing, was something that she had almost forgotten about: a long, black woolen robe, the kind of thing she wore to present herself to clients in Paris. Sitting back on the cot, she held it out in front of her. She and it had produced a lot of money. Smiling, she crumpled it into her chest, remembering better times working as a registered Dark Arts practitioner in Paris. At least she had a job there. A darkness descended. She had nothing here. Gregorov's position at the school kept her fed and had given her a place to live. They would probably turn her away at the doors of the castle.

Loup put the robes aside and tried to figure out what to do until her stomach screamed at her to feed it. The robe lay next to her, its blacker than black fabric blotting out the cot. Magic. It was all she knew how to do. How would she earn enough money to survive here? What did she have to offer? She patted at the robes, enjoying their soft feel and a small thought tickled her brain. She could offer to barter. She was good. She was better than just good. She had never had a client refuse to pay her, most came back for other work. With a nod to her ego, she stood up and pulled the robes on, making sure that every hidden fastening was fastened and that the folds hung properly. Just having it on made her feel more confident.

She dumped the rest of the bag onto the cot, digging through the mound of clothing to see what else was in there. Gregorov had folded everything up carefully. All of her clothing would have remained nicely smooth until she got into the bag and did her usual mangling of what was in there. Somehow, that made her feel worse, knowing he had taken the time to pack everything so carefully. She found her brush and a small bag of toiletries. How could a man who had been such a slob take the time to pack soap and shampoo for her? Guilt came skipping back to wag a finger. She almost lost her nerve, but the imp's singsong voice started to nag again, asking where a real black mage could be found since what stood there was so pathetic.

Angrily, she brushed her long dark hair and clipped it back out of her face. She had no mirror, but she knew what she looked like and understood the power of her black eyes. They alone told of the dark works she had done. Her gloves were tucked into a pocket in her cloak and she drew those on. A light pass of her hands said all was in order and that she looked as much of a professional as she ever had.

The cold walk to the hall woke her brain, snapping it back into a mindset she had ignored for the last several months. A job is a job and business is business, a cliché that she had always found annoying, began to repeat. A job is a job. A job meant money and money meant stability. She had to find something in the area or begin again the search for another wolf. Just another wolf. That was all. She slowed herself down at the foot of the stairs into the castle and called on all her pride.

No one stopped her at the doors. Instead, the staff looked at her as if she belonged there and went back to their tasks. The Great Hall was mostly empty at the early hour. Fixing her eyes on the central table, she strode forward, ignoring Lester who leaned on his hand, watching her. The Headmaster looked up from his breakfast, curious as to what she wanted. The affairs of his faculty were beneath him and, although he knew of her existence, he had filed her under the category of "professor's mistress" and left it at that. With a slight shift of his head, he acknowledged her and she came forward. She bowed, introduced herself and, raising her eyes to his, made her offer. She would work for him as a practitioner of the Dark Arts and he, as her maître de sorciers, would get a percentage of her fees. The Headmaster laughed, amused at the idea. Why should he bother with such an arrangement? He had a whole department of Dark Arts wizards and a witch as well.

"And how much money do they bring you personally?" She let the question twist before him, tantalizing him with the possibility. "Post my availability, with you as my maître. There is no work that I am afraid of. I know what my services are worth."

"And what do you want in return from me?" With a wave of his hand, the Headmaster summoned a servant who poured a cup of coffee. Her nose twitched at its aroma.

"I require food and lodging, access to materials for the work required by clients. The exact division of the fees is, of course, negotiable; however, the usual amount that you would take is forty percent. Those are the standard provisions for this kind of employment." She held her hands out in supplication and waited.

The Headmaster no sooner nodded than one of his aides stepped forward burdened with parchment and ink. The aide unrolled the parchment and tapped it three times. With each tap, a different version of a contract blossomed. At the third one, he pushed a quill and a pot of ink forward. She started to read it, but stopped as she realized that she had no other option. With a flick of her wand, the contract was sealed with her sigil burning brightly.

"You may eat in the kitchens. A room will be found for you. You will report to the Bursar this afternoon to find out where you will stay." With a small chuckle, the Headmaster returned to his plate, his newest employee forgotten.

She shook a little in indignation at being dismissed so easily, but she bowed low and turned to go to the kitchens. Across the room, seated at the Dark Arts' table behind one of the huge doors, Haken watched. He caught her eye and, without his usual smile, raised a coffee mug in her direction. Gritting her teeth, she nodded at him as she turned to enter the kitchens.

The staff person who met her behind the door was furious at having to feed her in those steamy depths. A plate was thrust into her hands and she was directed a small, round table crowded into a corner by a door. Everything about the room was hot and sweaty. Her hand came away sticky from the tabletop, smelling faintly of grease. Pots clanged, frying pans slammed and voices yelled. Cradling her mug, she wondered what she had gotten into. The reminder that a job was a job and business was business echoed inside her head. Besides, where would she go?

Gloomily, she finished her meal and decided to see where the other door in the kitchen led. With a click, everything changed. That door opened to an outside landing from which a long, stone staircase zigzagged down three floors. At the end a small path wound from a graveled courtyard. Loup guessed that was where supplies were brought in. The whole area looked as though few people ever came through it. She walked down the stairs until she could sit on the bottom landing and listen to the birds, trying to remind herself how lovely the area was. The brief summer still held sway, but soon the snows would come and the long darkness would take hold.

Time crawled until she got too cold to remain sitting on the cold stone steps. She walked leisurely back to the cottage, ignoring the stares of the children who stopped their games to watch her. Her suitcase took only a few minutes to repack. Dressing herself in something less formal, she carefully folded her uniform up and placed it into the suitcase. It refused to fit properly and she struggled with its voluminous folds, wondering how Gregorov had managed. No amount of shoving would close it. Finally, she gave up and draped it over her shoulder before she returned to the castle.

The Bursar was prepared for her. It was only midmorning but, with school not yet in session, finding her a place to stay was simple. With a sniff, the Bursar informed Loup that quarters for her had been found on the top floor. The Bursar's expression hinted that someone had requested them for her.

The tinkle of a hand bell brought a young man into the room. The Bursar conferred with him for a moment and then the man motioned for Loup to follow. They climbed the stairs until they reached the top and he turned left. Passing Lester's office, they continued down the hall to the next staircase. Loup was puzzled when they descended that stair, but her guide stopped in front of a small door on the landing. Digging an old-fashioned looking key out of his pocket, he unlocked the door. The room was surprisingly large. The gust of air from the door's opening sent a haze of dust to sparkle brightly in the light of the mullioned window.

With promises of a bed and bedding, the young man disappeared. Loup yanked the window open and leaned out to admire the sight of the mountains. The view was amazing. The dust, however, was oppressive and had to be dealt with. It took a few tries until she got the spell right before she created a wind strong enough to whip through the room and swirl most of the dust out the window. Wood paneling grew dark and the curtains turned out to be green. Satisfied with the results, she surveyed what little there was in the place. It took but a few seconds to realize that the only things stored there were several mismatched chairs stacked in a corner. They proved to be mostly stable and she arranged them against a wall.

The man returned, this time with others carrying a mattress. He apologized for the lack of a real bed, but Loup was happy to have that much. Looking embarrassed, he presented her with the news that she would have to use one of the student bathrooms. She shrugged. As the men prepared to leave, she hesitantly asked if they could fetch her boxes and bags. The crew dithered and grumbled. Having nothing to give them, she tried to charm them. When that failed, she made vague allusions to awful things that might occur to those who had angered a Dark Mage. The men got the message. Over the next two hours, her bags and boxes of books arrived, each delivery taking longer and with more complaining.

With all of her possessions stacked around her, she began arranging them. She opened the boxes and placed them on their sides to make awkward bookcases. The sweet, decaying smell filled the room. Some of the boxes held books too fragrant to be left out. The especially aromatic tomes were sealed up and stored against the back wall, away from her clothing and bed. Loup stacked piles of black clothing on top of chairs and boxes. Storing all of her worldly possessions took less than two hours. Stepping back from her work, she took in her new quarters and noted with a frown that she hadn't had so little since...well, never.

Finished, she sat down on the mattress, only then realizing that she lacked linens. With a groan, she lay back and stared at the ceiling. Things were not going to make much sense for a while. Voices floated up the stairwell and conversations a floor down could be heard clearly. It was a hint that noises from her chamber would also be heard. Out of two different conversations, she heard the word "students" and "arrival". The students would be arriving soon. The students didn't bring their own linens, did they? She pondered the question and decided that expecting eleven-year-olds to remember to bring sheets and towels seemed foolish. There must be a linen room somewhere.

With a new quest to guide her, Loup began to hunt through the floors, discovering that the castle was full of rooms and corridors she had never seen. The place was huge and very confusing. She found rooms that were clearly classrooms and others that gave no clue as to what they were used for, rooms that had been unused for years and several storage rooms. The last were the most interesting. She pawed around in the first one for an hour, uncovering boxes full of jars, crates that rattled suggestively when shaken and several locked chests. No sheets, but many mysteries. There was a room that was protected by a fascinating array of spells. It was tempting to tackle the challenge of breaking them, but the sound of approaching footsteps convinced her to leave it for now.

Turning a corner, she spotted two members of the castle staff unloading what looked to be bundles tied with string. Bundle after bundle was passed from one man to the next to be stored in a large closet. Loup sniffed cautiously and caught the scent of detergent. Content to wait, she sat down on the floor and watched while the bundles were stored and forms were checked off. The men didn't bother to lock the closet when they left. She opened the doors and let out a low whistle, admiring the huge stacks of sheets and towels. Something was finally going right. She helped herself to two changes of sheets and a pillow. Towels were in the same closet and she took several of those. The only problem was finding her way back to her room. She hadn't paid attention during her search. Arms laden with her trophies, she stared down what looked to be endless, identical hallways.

It took a while to find the right corridors to the offices area. Linens slipped out of her arms several times and began to lose their snowy whiteness. Burdened by her purloined stash, she stumbled into the correct hallway. Curious professors watched her struggle her way to her stairwell and enter her room. Suddenly, she felt like a thief, but managed to justify it to herself. With sheets on the bed and towels draped over more of her boxes, her situation looked far more tolerable. She had no blankets but her cloak would do. It was warmer on the top floor than it had been in the drafty cottage or even in the Dark Arts building. If the winter proved too oppressive, her wolf form preferred the cold.

A knock on her door startled her. She didn't want visitors. Still, it might be someone with a message from the Headmaster. Without much enthusiasm, she opened the door to find Lester leaning against the wall. He gave her a wry grin and walked in to view her new home. The grin grew broader as he surveyed her collection of boxes stacked with clothing and towels. "Cozy." The mattress on the floor got a dubious prod with his foot. He arched an eyebrow in question. "This is the best you could manage? My lady dark, I would have thought such a talent as yours would warrant better than this."

The elegant accent and expensive clothing of her visitor made Loup feel shabby and uncomfortable. She considered several responses and found the most awkward one spilling forth before she could stop it. "I have to sleep somewhere."

Lester's tight smile and hooded eyes gave the impression of amusement at her state. He wandered around the large room, looking it over. "Well, we need not meet here. Why don't you come around after dinner? Seven-ish should do well." He chuckled to himself as he eyed her room one last time and ambled out the door.

Loup was furious. How dare he assume she could be scheduled in! Her imp awoke and whispered, "Well, he is the cause of your relocation to such charming quarters. You must have wanted him pretty badly to have let this happen." She cut the annoying thoughts short by throwing one of her hard-won towels against the window, sending more dust into the air.

Once her temper faded, she amused herself by organizing her books. The decaying smell spread throughout the room, calming her with its familiarity. Some time in the late afternoon, she decided to find the student bathrooms. As she wandered the halls in search of the place, she heard complaints from the offices wondering what the smell was. She sniffed, too, and found nothing out of the ordinary. All her nose caught was the smell of dust, books and men.

All the doorways leading from each and every hallway she searched all opened onto empty rooms, classrooms, storage rooms or rooms of no discernable purpose. Not one led to a bathroom. Failing in her search, she had to stop a member of the staff to ask where the elusive bathrooms were. The man asked her a bewildering assortment of questions: why did she need to get in there, and why should someone who was obviously not a student need to use them? Her explanations did little to reassure the man. It looked to be a stalemate until the young man who had helped her move walked by. She caught his attention and his confirmation of her odd status resulted in acquiring the much-needed information.

She was shown the staircase to the students' quarters closest to her own. The man introduced her to Professor Smeyers, who declined to provide any information other than his name and where the facilities she sought were. Gruffly, he agreed to keep her informed of the passwords, but any attempt to converse further was ended by his icy stare.

Spartan was the word that described the facilities. She turned on a tap to verify that there was hot water and inspected the bathing areas. Showers seemed to be the norm. The cold temperature of the room ensured that no one would take any more time than absolutely necessary. A stack of towels had already been placed next to the door. A cupboard held an amazing supply of shampoos that must have been left behind by the previous year's students. Sniffing the first three bottles, she opted for the least scented. The same cupboard held partial bars of soap. She gave herself a quick sniff and decided that now was as good a time as any other.

The shower was wonderful. She turned it as hot as she could stand and luxuriated in it. The cold of the chamber lessened the experience, but being clean lifted her spirits. Wishing she had thought to bring a change of clothing, she reluctantly dressed. The bells tolled five. Soon there would be dinner and her stomach reminded her that she had missed lunch.

She left her hair wrapped up in a towel and went back to her room, passing an elderly man she recognized as Professor Jessup, one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, standing in the hallway, sniffing.

The room already felt familiar and safe. With her books' spines showing from their makeshift box cases and her clothing piled on top of them, she created an illusion of having a place of her own. She found the least-full box, restacked those books elsewhere and declared that was the hamper. She pulled on a black robe and put on her shoes. Most of the professors seemed to wear Muggle clothing, but the French styles had been for robes and she enjoyed the comfort.

By the time the six bells chimed, she had managed to untangle her hair and was ready to eat. The long staircases seemed to be even longer as her stomach growled. The Great Hall's faculty tables were already filled and it was then that her new status sank in. She didn't get to eat there. That simple fact put things into a new perspective. Teachers ate in the hall. Servants ate in the kitchens. Her pace slowed and she had to force herself to make the turn to walk into those humid depths. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lester lean forward to watch her as she left the room. From the Dark Arts table behind the door, she heard Kessler's laugh.

Her appearance caused less of a stir than it had that morning. A plate had already been set for her at a small table crammed against a wall. She was informed that the staff ate at five and she should be on time tomorrow. The food was cold, but at least there was still some left. Beggars could not be choosy. She ate what was left and sat, watching the bustle. Sour glances from busy men and women convinced her that it was time to leave. She started to leave using the door to the hall, but stopped as the voices and laughter from the faculty got louder. Someone stopped their work long enough to mention that their entrance was the one that led outside. With that crushing blow to her ego, she left by the other door and slowly walked down the outside stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, she sat and reflected gloomily on her life. More than anything, she wanted to return to Paris. She grumbled that Gregorov should have left her to bleed to death; at least she would have gone as befitted her station. She had been one of the better-known Black Mages in that city. Now, she was a servant in some backwater. The cold seeped through her robes until she felt stiff. The bells tolled seven. Lester would be waiting.

Stretching, she looked up at the castle, noting that most of the windows were still dark. The students would begin arriving soon and next week the classes would start. Maybe having them back would bring some color to the place. She had once been given permission to attend lectures. Maybe she could do so again. Maybe not. The Dark Arts professors would not be happy to see her.

Spotting a door under the last turn of the stairs, she guessed that it led back into the castle. Once open, she slunk into the shadows and looked around, recognizing part of the entry hall. From the gloom, she watched professors walk by. They hadn't begun to wear their uniform coats yet and the diversity of their dress amused her. Some of the younger ones wore jeans and sweatshirts. The older the professor, the more often robes were worn. She found the combination of the two the most curious. Open robes over slacks or dresses, often in clashing colors. Hardly fashionable.

Rose Jones' voice caused her to press against the door. Jones looked happy as she rattled on at a bemused Paul Wronski. Loup caught her name and winced as Jones howled with laughter. The Lowensteins followed next, de Rais sauntering afterwards. She was certain de Rais spotted her when a small smile appeared on his face. Haken walked by, chatting with someone Loup didn't know. The hall was empty for a handful of heartbeats before Rabe and his girlfriend Ewa Krakow entered it. Rabe wore a beaten expression as Ewa talked to him. Curious, Loup shifted to the wolf, the better to eavesdrop.

"You need to leave that awful department, Toadie. Your talents are wasted there. Talk to Professor Lester. Surely, he can find a place for you this year. You know they pay the Dark Arts professors less than the rest of the departments. If you transferred to the Defense area, you would not have to live in that awful building." Ewa's voice faded as she continued to lecture the beleaguered Rabe.

Loup shifted back and snorted. "Toadie?" She desperately wanted to share that with someone. Wronski would love it. If he would talk to her. Well, she could save that information for later.

Her good humor vanished when the tall shapes of Kessler and Gregorov lumbered by. Kessler, whose voice was as large as he was, boomed, "This year, we will both hunt in the seventh-years. We will select the most beautiful and willing. You will see. Forget the bitch. She is too old for a man such as you. Do you prefer blondes or brunettes? Personally..." Kessler's voice was cut off as the men walked through the doors. Loup made a small gagging sound. The students were not even there yet and already the stalk had begun. The idea revolted her. Gregorov didn't need a seventeen-year-old girl. The thought caught her off guard. She had no right to judge. None. Still, the idea bothered her.

Opening the door to the back courtyard, she took note of the dusk. Lester would be waiting. Her memories of the day before didn't make her want to race up the stairs. Closing the door behind her, she sniffed the night air, catching the familiar scents. Lester could wait. The night called.