Pride

Chapter 7

The kitchen work was about as close to fun as it could been have managed. Loup memorized the spell Magda had given her and watched, delighted as the knife danced over the potatoes, skins spiraling off perfectly. The show drew an audience as the kitchen staff laughed at the sight. A bowl of onions was set down in front of Loup who discovered that the same spell didn't work the same for onions. Her mood slightly soured as she set to slicing them, but she cheered up when another woman sat down to help.

The dinner crowd's voices rose and ebbed with the opening and closing of the door. Loup and those who were not busy in the hall lingered over their meal. It really wasn't that bad, Loup thought as she speared another piece of chicken. She had no idea what Jones was complaining about when it came to the food. You just had to ask for what you wanted to eat.

Bette had become friendlier over the weeks and she would arrange to have either chicken or fish available on days when the menu had the sausages that Loup loathed. The kitchen manager had a scatological sense of humor and a huge library of jokes that were lewd in any language they were presented in. The kitchens stopped being a steamy prison and became a place to do some work and loiter.

When the dirty dishes began to arrive in the kitchen, Loup stretched and, promising Bette she would return, walked into the Great Hall to see the Headmaster. She got an annoyed look from him while he made her wait. His private business was something he did not care to have made public. However, he was almost impossible to talk to unless he scheduled it. He made her stand and wait while he finished his dessert and coffee.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lester. He wore an annoyed expression and kept scratching at his arm. Whoever was doing the calling was not going to stop. Loup could imagine how it must feel by this time. Her own arm itched in memory. As the bells started to toll the next hour, Lester got up to leave. He slowed as he passed behind her and hissed that he expected to see her that night.

The conversation with the Headmaster proved quite interesting to both of them. He was unaware of the extra spells involved and the cool smile on his face promised that the client would be hearing from him soon. He approved the extra work and wanted to know if she could tell whom the samples were from. Unfortunately, she had no way of doing that and then spent too long explaining how the spell worked. She missed the initial signs of boredom and was startled when the Headmaster slammed his hand onto the table to signal she should shut up. As if to counteract the action, her pay for the last job was passed to her. The coins felt heavy in her hand and a small nagging fear was silenced. If she could continue to get paid, she would be able to support herself. She would not need to depend on anyone else's charity or be afraid that Lester would find a way to have her expelled from the school. By way of dismissal, the Headmaster began to read through a stack of parchments. Tucking the money into her robes, she returned to the kitchens and a huge stack of dishes.

The talk in the kitchens was about the upcoming extra work. She scraped the plates and listened to the complaints. The end of October was coming and that meant the annual Halloween fête. For their end of the world, it meant a lot of extra cooking and preparations. At least there would only be two meals to prepare, instead of the usual three. There was a lively debate as to which pumpkin dishes would be served and whether they should even bother with decorating as so much of the celebration took place outside in the dark.

Loup asked a few questions about what was to happen and got an amazing array of stories. It became apparent that everything and anything happened that night. She loved hearing how some of the more restrained professors became wild things after having too much to drink. The tale of the Transfiguration teacher who had changed the main gates into a glowing pink mirror had her laughing until she choked. Her mood was completely changed by the time she left the kitchens and, box on her hip, returned to the offices.

It was already dark when she walked across to the building. The night was quiet and lit only by stars. An overwhelming urge to dump the box and hunt took her, but she had really liked the feel of the heavy bag of coins. The door to the building was ajar and the staff room empty. Evidently, the rest had also felt the call. She envied them and was half tempted to work in the staff room where there was a large table and some more-or-less-comfortable chairs. She waffled for a bit, staring at the tatty room, before finally deciding it would be better to do the work and look forward to being paid.

In the coffin-like closet, she recast the Illumino spell and took out the bits of each person, looking at each bag and vial to see how fresh the samples were. Nothing was especially fresh and she soon understood why there was so much of everything. Dismayed at their age, she measured out the herbs provided. Whoever had wanted the work done must have made up his mind months earlier, but had not followed through until recently. If there were not so much material, she would have demanded fresher items.

The set up for each took over an hour. The tiny room soon began to reek from the combination of the old herbs and the new ones she ground for her work. When she began to heat the cauldron, the dark scents joined in. Normally, she would have enjoyed the cloying smell but, stuck in the small closet, it began to give her a headache. At one point, she gave up and opened the door, casting a little breeze to drive it away. No one was back yet. Painting a pretty fantasy, she imagined their hunt and jealously wondered if they had taken a deer. Hours passed while she set the spells, dispersed the energies, cleaned the cauldron and began again. She began to feel gritty as the room warmed with each iteration, the powdered herbs stuck to her and the smoke settled in her hair. The last round set her sneezing, unable to stop for several minutes. When it was done, the energies dispersed and the cauldron cleaned, she allowed herself the luxury of sitting down on the floor and stretching. Her feet hurt, she had a headache and she felt filthy. There was only one last thing to do and she could go.

While the Dark Arts were legal in Paris, she had no idea what their status was at the school. Teaching them was one thing, practicing them was another. In situations like this, covering one's tracks was important. She placed the wand in front of her on the floor as standing made her feet throb. There were a few different ways to accomplish what she wanted to do and she stared blankly at the wand, her mind numb as she tried to decide. Easier sounded better. Using the other wand, she cast the Prior Incantato spell to see what the wand would show. Unless the Auror knew exactly what to look for, it would be difficult to diagnose which spells had been cast. She had met Auror Mueller and he seemed to have a very good grasp of dark spells. The easiest thing to do was to cast Lumos over and over again. There were other spells that would force earlier and earlier spells out. Luckily, that kind of detective work was tedious and only a few people were willing to take that kind of time. Besides, if it were something that they would be really interested in, she would destroy the wand. You could always get another one, although she wasn't sure how to do that from Durmstrang. So, bored beyond belief, she made herself cast Lumos until she lost count and then do it ten times more.

Next, she conjured a flame and destroyed the box itself and the containers. The pewter cauldron was as clean as she could manage, making it almost impossible to get any information out of it. Being cautious bordering on paranoid, she rummaged around in the storage room, tearing off chunks of the ancient herb bundles, and then burned them in the cauldron, panicking briefly when one side began to get too soft. Anyone examining it would only find ash traces. She cleaned that out, too, because it was a good habit, then nullified her light spell and closed the door behind her.

The hallway was dark, all of the doors firmly shut, except the one to the very dark staff room. She stood still, waiting for her eyes to adjust and taking in the scents. The tang of blood hung in the air. Good hunt. A pang of disappointment ran through her at missing it. She had yet to hunt with the group. The dynamics of the different predators fascinated her. And as her imagination began to try to sort it out, the reminder that she was not welcome broke the picture into blackness. No pack. The mere thought made her twitchy. The need came calling then, crawling from the back of her brain where it had been stuffed while she worked. He was supposed to hunt with her at the very least. She would settle for that. Feeling very pathetic, she walked the few feet over to Gregorov's door and allowed herself a deep sniff, taking in his scent. The demons drank it down and seemed to be satisfied. "Great. So I need to come in here at least once a week and sniff his door. Says a lot for me," she groused to herself. Loup hefted the cauldron and walked over to the door. The old sagging door squealed in protest, the noise sounding loud in the night. She waited a moment to see if anyone had heard it, but the doors stayed shut. Stepping outside, she used a slow, steady pull and the door closed quietly.

Looking at the sky, she realized she had no idea what time it was. She had come over after dinner, the spells had taken some time to set up and to work and to clean... It must be well after midnight. The air had gone from crisp to icy and she noticed how close the stars were. She closed her eyes, listened to the night and felt at peace. The calm lasted until she opened her eyes again and saw the black silhouette of the castle. She had to go back. She could hear Lester's hiss, telling her she was expected. He would be awake. Or, he would have some kind of detection spell set to let him know she had returned. Part of her wanted to get it over with now, to either kill him or disable him, but she wasn't ready yet. The hair and the blood waited in her room and those could be used for subtler purposes, something that would allow Lester to continue as he was and allow her to live in peace. She suspected that killing him wouldn't further her career with the Headmaster. Classes would start soon enough and she knew his schedule well. Avoiding the castle altogether would be the best.

The little pleasure she had from the evening dribbled away as she turned towards the greenhouses, hoping that she could find some place warm to sleep.

* * *

The black wolf started awake at the bells. Stiffly, she stood up, stretched and shook, sending a cloud of dust into the air. It had been too cold to sleep outside and the humid depths of the greenhouse had done quite well as a shelter. It smelled wonderful as a bonus. Her first choice had been full of night-blooming vines. She had fallen asleep breathing deeply of their fragrance, her sleep soothed by the scent. Except for one horrible nightmare where Lester chained the black wolf up in a stone prison, her sleep had been fine, better than it had been in weeks. As she dusted her clothing off, she wondered if she could get away with sleeping in the greenhouse more often. The wolf didn't mind the dirty floors.

She walked around to the back of the castle and climbed the staff stairs. The isolation of the grounds lifted her spirits. No Lester. No Jones. Nobody to make snide comments. The door was locked, but opened quickly at her knock. Bette took one look at her and made a face. Without a word, she was directed out the door and was given the information that she needed a bath. Puzzled, she took a sniff of herself but, to her nose, she smelled just fine.

A chuckle caused her to turn around. Haken was at the staff table, watching her with a real grin on his face. He motioned her over. "I can smell you from here. We could all smell you last night when we came back. How many spells did you cast last night?"

An expression of comprehension spread over her face. The herbs, the smoke, the spells... Of course, she must reek. "Three. I forgot how badly I must smell." She looked up, as it tracing her path to the showers and the small smile faded.

Haken's eyes narrowed, following everything. "Is there a problem?" His voice changed from the friendly tones to the business-like one she associated with unpleasant things.

She considered talking to him, but held back, feeling that he wouldn't care, that it would give Jones one more thing to crow about. As she fabricated her story, she saw Haken track something else and felt someone standing behind her.

"Where were you?" Lester's aristocratic voice was ice. "I expected you last night."

She didn't turn. Was there some way to make Lester not be there if she didn't see him? No. None. Running wasn't a possibility. Fighting her fear, she tried to organize her thoughts.

Haken said, "She was in our offices, working. Surely, you can smell it for yourself. The spells take a lot of time. She has only recently finished. I am certain that the Headmaster will be pleased with her diligence." She watched as he put his helpful face on, admiring how easily he could change expressions and project a mood.

Lester sniffed and went over to his area's table, the screech of the bench being moved out announced his arrival. Loup tried to relax, unclench her hands that had turned into fists upon Lester's appearance. "Thank you. I appreciate your help."

Haken looked from her to Lester, his face blank again as he examined the man across the way. "He appears to be allergic to something. Is that why he scratches his arm?"

Loup shook her head. "His binding spell has been activated. Someone is calling him. It's soured his disposition even more than usual."

Haken turned his attention to her; she felt trapped under his scrutiny. "Binding spell? Are you certain? Is the Headmaster calling him? That makes no sense."

She shook her head again. "Not Durmstrang's spell. Someone else's. I don't know the mark. Skull and snake. He doesn't bear the Durmstrang mark."

"You, of course, would have had ample opportunity to have examined it." Haken leaned back against the wall, evaluating the information.

Loup said nothing and felt a hot rage come upon her. She bit back all the responses that leapt to mind, trying to remind herself that Haken had just helped her. To his credit, Haken glanced back at her and realized what he had said. "I apologize. I did not wish to imply..."

She cut him off. "No. You're quite right. I have seen it. Many times. I hope to never see it again. Thank you for helping me before. I will try to not trouble you again." She spun on her heel and strode out of the hall, feeling as if she were about to explode.

Three flights of stairs hardly slowed her down as her anger carried her upwards. As she passed Lester's office, a slight shock alerted her that she had triggered a spell and, when she crossed her threshold, she knew she had gone through another. Bastard. She looked at the hairs and the bloody rag on her boxes and mentally paged through her assortment of spells. There were too many. She needed to think clearly and be very careful about what she decided to do. Too many variables, too much to think about. A shower would help. She stuffed clothing for the day into a bag and headed off.

The line had not begun to form yet when she arrived, allowing her to walk directly into a stall. As her long shower progressed, she noticed that the amount of noise increased with gradually as new girls entered the cavernous room. She washed everything three times, knowing full well how the smell clung to her hair. Satisfied that she smelled as clean as possible, she reluctantly left the warm steaminess of the showers to make way for the next person.

Feeling very much out of place, she wrangled a spot behind the lockers and dried herself off. She could recognize voices in the room. High Voice and Low Voice were comparing their answers on an essay and Giggles could be heard talking to Last Straw about the upcoming Halloween fête. It had been a long time since her life was that simple. She stuffed her clothes from the previous night into the bottom of the bag. The fluff of air sent the smell up, making her eyes water.

The cleaner Loup was welcomed back into the kitchens. Being late, the choices were fewer, but she ate the last of the bread and went back for seconds on the yogurt. Bette asked if wolves needed all that food to hibernate through the winter. She patted her stomach and finished what was left in every coffeepot that had been set onto the table.

Even the scutwork wasn't too bad. The students seemed especially hungry as the platters came back empty, making her work easier. She finished off the coffee that came back from the professors' tables and listened to Fyedia, one of the cooks, sing what sounded to be a sad love song. When Bette was satisfied that everything was done, she left with the rest of the staff, out the back door and down the stairs.

She walked with the rest to the end of the path and then stood and watched them head back to their cottages. It looked to be a beautiful day and she had time to kill before all the teachers would be in their classes. Walking slowly around to the front of the castle, she had to dodge a group of young boys, probably all first-years, as they tore towards the greenhouses. She watched as they raced down the hill, their voices fading away as they ran. A few moments later, she had to jump aside as a pack of girls ran by, shrieking with laughter. She cautiously peered around a buttress to make sure that it was safe to continue. Students loitered in small groups, enjoying the sunshine. As far as she could tell, they all looked to be seventh-years, maybe a few sixth-years, and were far more interested in each other than her. She enjoyed watching them preen for each other and then look quickly away when the boy or girl they were striving to impress looked their way. Things never change.

She got as far as the front steps before she stopped and waited. The bells for the ninth hour had yet to chime, which meant that Lester might still be around. Leaning against the balustrade, she watched the students and the few teachers scurrying towards the castle and, unfortunately, the black-uniformed Aurors following close behind. With a speed born out of long practice, she slunk back along the castle walls to the first place the buttresses bulged and stepped behind them. The Aurors walked out of her line of sight, presumably into the castle. She counted to twenty and then stepped out as the bells sounded.

Dawdling her way back to the stairs, she hunted for any sign of the Aurors. She was certain her spells had worked and a small spark of fear lit as she began to wonder whom the spells affected. It had never been her practice to ask who the targets were. If you didn't know, you couldn't be tricked into any unwise answers. In Paris, it was the job of her Maitre to know the details (and collect his percentage of the fees). During her days in San Francisco, she had worked through a go-between. Not knowing the rules here was unnerving.

The entrance hall was a blur of students heading up or down staircases. Staff members looked darkly out of place as they hurried to their assignments. She looked for the black uniforms and saw none. Hiding herself in a crowd, she ascended the stairs. At the next floor, the students split off and headed to their classrooms, leaving her to climb the next set alone. She felt like an obvious target clad in her usual black clothing. At the top of the stairs, she paused and waited for any other movement and then sprinted up the last flight and down to her own room.

The glow of her wards welcomed her into the room and she fell onto the bed breathing hard. Her relief was shattered when she heard a knock on her door only a few minutes later and her name called out by a voice she recognized too well. Johannes Werner, the head of the local Aurors, rapped again and demanded that she leave her safe lair.

She weighed her choices carefully. Her wards were strong and it would take a great deal of effort to break them. Still, she had nowhere to go when they fell and there was neither food nor water in the room. She wondered if they had seen her enter the room at all or were they just guessing. As she debated, another voice called for her. Why was Haken with the Aurors?

Feeling very much at bay, she came out onto the landing. The wall of black uniforms almost sent her back into her rooms. Werner watched her step backwards and ordered two of his men to leave. The prospect of speaking to only Werner, Mueller and Haken was alarming enough. With her back against her wards, she waited.

"So nice to see you alive. You look far healthier than the last time I saw you." Werner grinned, amused at his own wit.

"I'm not dead in the snow, if that's what you mean by healthy. You shouldn't have left me for dead." Loup wrapped her arms around herself, looking and feeling vulnerable.

Werner's smile faded slightly. "True. I will not be so eager to leave next time. Next time, I will be certain." The threat implied, he seemed to relax as he looked her over, noting the black eyes and taking in the tension in the hands. "Professor Haken has told us an interesting story. I would like to hear it from you."

Loup looked to Haken who wore his usual smile and back at Werner. "What story? I don't understand."

"Ah. Perhaps you do not. Professor Lester, he is your current lover, is he not?" Werner stood at ease, taking note of every twitch, every motion.

She held herself tighter and backed against the wards until they glowed. "Why?"

"Do not be difficult. I am not interested in your sex life. I am merely confirming details. Professor Lester is your current lover, yes?" Werner allowed himself a small smile, which belayed the neutral tone.

She grimaced. "He was."

"Ah. Was. I see. Professor Lester has a binding spell placed upon him, yes?"

She nodded.

"And this binding spell, what does it look like?" Werner nodded at Mueller who pulled out a pad of paper and readied himself to take notes.

Loup frowned, puzzled at their interest. "It's got a skull and a snake. Black. But then most of them are... Why?"

Mueller sketched a drawing of a skull with a snake coiled on top of it and showed it to her. "No. The snake is coming out of the mouth." Her interest piqued while Haken and Werner conferred. Mueller put his pad away and gave her a glimmer of a smile, as if to reassure her. "What's going on?"

The men seemed to have reached some kind of answer and, without saying anything to her, turned and left. Confused but glad to see them leave, Loup returned to her warded room and sank back down onto her bed, pleased to be left in peace.

* * *

She left early for dinner, sliding by Lester's office quickly, noting the closed door.

Bette was in a terrible mood. The Aurors had invaded her kitchen shortly after they had left Loup and demanded to be fed. Being told what to do in her domain had left Bette in a peevish mood. She picked at everyone's work and complained constantly. Loup backed into a corner and peeled or cut whatever was sent her way. It was only when the stove was hot and the smell of frying onions filled the air that Bette calmed down and let the rest of the staff relax.

Hovering in the doorway of the kitchens, Loup could watch the students and professors enjoy their meals. From there, she could see the long tables in the middle of the room full of red-robed students and, if she stood jammed hard up against either door jamb, she could make out the professors at their tables against the walls.

Familiar faces from the showers were seated at one of the long tables. The fivesome were in high spirits that night. Laughing amongst themselves, they were having a great time. Loup felt a slight sadness watching them. They looked so young and innocent, a façade she knew from their morning conversations. Looking like a dark cloud, Kessler came over to the table to talk to them. Most of the girls shrank back, looking elsewhere, but an outstretched hand from Kessler brought the girl Loup thought of as Low Voice to her feet and they left together. The other girls drew closer, whispering, as Loup fell back into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

She was in no hurry to leave the kitchens. She took her time completing whichever task Bette set her and then tried to start a conversation. Bette wanted to go home and shooed Loup out the door.

Standing in the Great Hall, she turned around slowly, taking in the sheer size of the place. The room was huge and seemed even larger with no one else there. A few torches burned on the walls, casting enough light to make out the shadows of the tables and benches and not much else. She scuffed her feet across the stone floor just to hear some noise as she made her way over to the large doors. When she reached the portal, she leaned against a door and stared across the entrance hall to where the staircase rose, asking herself how lucky she felt that night. Not very lucky.

She swung around behind the doors to the Dark Arts table and sat down on the bench, sidling into the deepest of the shadows, an illusion of safety. Wearily, she drew her finger over the pitted surface of the wood and wondered what her next step was. She needed to do something and she needed to do it soon.

With the tip of a nail, she traced the number one at the top of the table and thought about her options. She could kill Lester with an Avada Kedavra curse. She dropped her hand slightly and drew a two. Lester could have an Imperious curse placed on him, but his behavior would be wrong. It would be noticed by his staff. Three, she could use some of his hair in a Cela spell, hoping to alter the spell slightly so it would hide her, not him. She dismissed that idea as cowardly. Four... four... She drummed her fingers on the table as she thought. Four, she could work a charm using the hairs of them both and make it so the two would repel each other. That sounded good. She was sure one of her books would be able to help there. Five, she could use his blood to kill him in a manner that would not be traceable to her. She drew her finger through the five. No. While killing him would make her feel better, she had her employer to think about. Back to five. Her brain drew a blank as she stared into the darkness. Five, she could break her contract and leave. "And go where?" the bored voice of her imp asked.

Where was a good question. Wherever she went, she was going to start feeling worse than she already did. She knew of two other wolf Animagi and both of them lived in Paris. Lived together in fact. Lucky them. It seemed that the logical answer would be to find a place where there were high-paying, high-risk jobs again and see how long she would last this time. Maybe she could avoid the protection jobs. She dropped her head into her hands and sat rerunning her options, liking none of them.

Six. Talk to Werner. Maybe he would write her a letter to let her get back into Paris. She found that thought hysterically funny; her body shook with suppressed laughter at the vision of going into the Northern District's Auror headquarters and asking them to write her a letter to let her go home. Well, maybe they would, but not for someone like her.

She would need to deal with Lester one way or another. Sleeping in the greenhouses wasn't the best long-term option. She wiped her hand over the table top as if erasing her list and left.

At the top of the stairs, she halted and looked hard at Lester's office. No light shone under the door. Everything looked dark and quiet. She walked carefully by it, her wand drawn and ready. Nothing. She cast a Discernere to check for the detector spell in front of her door, confirming it was still there. Seeing the telltale shine made her angry, made her want to do something so she sent a surge of energy through her wand, shattering it. He would put another one there, but it felt good to destroy this one. Pocketing the wand, she entered her room and tried to go to sleep.