Teamwork

Chapter 1

Professor Rose Jones looked down at the roll of parchment on the table. Covered with columns of numbers and odd symbols, it could have been some exotic ritual's description, or perhaps the diagram to summon a demon, but it was much worse - it was a budget.

"Enrollment is down in the advanced level classes again," Todor Rabe, the head of the Dark Arts Department, sighed. "If enrollment does not increase by next year..." he trailed off as he looked around the table at his staff, watching as his point sunk in.

Jones mentally shrugged. She didn't understand what any of it actually meant. She ran her finger along the left-hand side, looking for her name. Finding it, she looked at the numbers carefully written in precise columns on that line. She had no idea if it was better or worse than the previous years and doubted any of the others did, either. However, Rabe's agitation was contagious and soon she found herself worrying that what small budget they had would be skewered - not that the Durmstrang Institute ever allocated them that much money.

"Introductory classes are full." Rabe looked up from the parchment, nodding towards the other end of the table and then nodded again towards the man who yawned at his right and again at another who seemed to be sliding under the table in an ever-deepening slouch.

From that far end of the table, Rolf Haken gave a toothy smile and rapped the end of a stylus on the tabletop. "I could open another section. Perhaps an overview of the discipline."

"And what good would that do for those of us who teach the more advanced classes?" Yuri Gregorov, who taught the upper three grade levels of Dark Spells, demanded.

Haken continued to look pleased. His position was safe, as all of the Durmstrang students were required to take his "Introduction to the Dark Arts" classes during their first two years at the school. "Perhaps a better understanding of what we offer would help. Some of the more esoteric subjects..."

"What do we offer?" Siegfried Kessler boomed from his place next to Rabe. "We can show them how to curse, terrorize, kill, mark and control. We used to supply great leaders and police for those governments that would pay, but those areas are..." he paused, pouring himself a glass of something that might have been water; "...reordering themselves. Now, we cater to spoiled, rich children who want to appear dangerous."

"I hate it when you get philosophical, Siegfried," Jones sneered. "Isn't it a bit early to be drinking?" She lazily indicated the mostly-empty bottle in front of Kessler and then turned her attention back to Rabe. "So, enrollment is down. Is it really a problem yet? Do we need to do more..." she hesitated, searching for a word. Frustrated, she pulled out a battered dictionary and quickly ruffled through its pages. "Ah. Demonstrations? Do we have enough... Damn. Can't we use translation spells? I'm having a hell of a time with German." She glanced up from the book to see an unsympathetic audience.

"You Americans are always in such a hurry." Kessler swirled the last of his drink. "We all speak German. We have agreed that it was the best compromise. We have a Russian, a Bulgarian, two Germans, two Americans, an Austrian, a Romanian, and whatever nationality Gilles is."

"Dead," sniggered Haken.

There was a general uneasiness and most everyone looked somewhere else. Gilles de Rais, the object of the comment, merely smiled thinly and resumed reading from a small book, ignoring the budget.

"You never eat, do you?" Kessler pushed the bottle towards de Rais who waved it away. "Or drink."

"That's because the food is horrible. I'd kill for a decent burrito." Jones pulled out a package of cigarettes and began to light one. She put it down when the others turned on her at once.

"We don't like the smell," Gregorov snarled.

Jones put her pack away sulkily. "OK. So, we need more students," she started, stopping for a hacking cough. "How much does it cost to get..." She picked up her dictionary again and thumbed through it, ignoring the exasperated looks from the rest. "... more examples? 'Examples' doesn't sound right. 'Subjects'? That sounds better. Subjects to use in class. I'm sure that more of the really gory spells would increase enrollment."

Rabe, whose unhappy task it was to handle the budget, fidgeted as he looked over the document. "Since the government of our main supplier became unstable, it is more difficult to obtain them. Not impossible, but you cannot ruin one for a single spell. You should think of it as a show of your own skill to fix them for further uses." He looked down his rather beaky nose at Jones, who kept glancing at the door as her nicotine need set in.

"Why can we not use some of the budget to get a decent table?" Gregorov rocked the table and glowered at Rabe. "Perhaps some chairs that do not sag? Why do we not use the main staff room?"

"The rest of the faculty don't like the smell," Jones snapped. "I've heard what they say about us. We smell like dead things."

'The Dark Arts do have an odor." Rabe rolled up the parchment and tied a black ribbon around it. "It gets into the robes and the lining of the coats. I have to hang mine outside to air."

Gregorov laughed. "I love the scent! It makes me want to roll in it. By midterm, I want to hunt all night." He narrowed his pale eyes and seemed almost to pant. "I think we ought to offer more advanced spells. Perhaps let the students participate in the work. No reason not to share. It is why they signed up for the classes."

"Would you trust children to perform our work? There are times I wonder if they should even be learning some of the things we teach." Ludwig Lowenstein shook his blond head and, with yet another yawn, asked, "Are we done, or is there anything to do?"

Rabe stood and wandered over to the window. Jones watched him and impatiently waited for him to reach a decision. The late summer sun was still high in the sky. It was a shame to waste the daylight. Far too soon, the sun would rarely show and the darkness would hold sway. She began to drum her fingers on the battered table's surface.

Finally, Rabe turned back to the group. "The Headmaster has said we need to increase the Department's enrollment. He did not say what would happen if it declined much further. Durmstrang is the only school to offer the full range of the Dark Arts as a part of its curriculum. Well, the only school to openly boast of it. He will not drop the discipline, but he may choose to offer fewer classes. It is important that we do something this year to encourage more students to enroll in our courses."

Rabe's generally calm demeanor appeared ruffled as he continued, "As much as I hate to admit it, Professor Jones' idea of more dramatic demonstrations is the best that I have heard. Perhaps around midterm, we can offer something in each of our classes or, depending on funding, one for all the sessions. Are there any other suggestions?"

Jones visibly preened. "Well, in the States, we could arrange to video tape the demonstrations and play them for each of the other classes. You would only have to actually cast the spell once."

"You are not in 'the States', you are here, at Durmstrang. We do not have access to any of the Muggle technologies you always mention." Gregorov crossed his arms and glowered at her.

"Doesn't work here. Remember?" The other American, Paul Wronski, squirmed into an upright sitting position from his rather alarming slouch. "The concentration of magic is too much for the machines. Really is a shame. I miss watching TV..."

"Telephones. A computer to record grades on. Pizza..." Jones gave up on trying to speak German. She was the newest professor on staff and was horribly homesick. It had seemed like such a good idea two years ago... Things had become uncomfortable for her in Seattle where she had been doing free lance work. A few spells here and there. Her reputation for getting unpleasant things done quickly and quietly had gotten a bit too well-known, and a visit from the "witch hunt" (or rather, the Department of Magical Affairs Investigations) had convinced her it was time to move on. Teaching something she had been practicing for years sounded like a dream! She even fulfilled the "other" qualifications for the department. The teaching itself wasn't too bad. It took her a while to get used to the way the students all stood up when she walked into class, and how they would all say in unison "Guten Tag Frau Professor," but she got used to it. It was the other junk...

"Give it a rest, Rose. You can't go back and you know it. Neither can I. Let's just try not to get fired." Wronski, who taught all of the Potions/Poisons classes for the Dark Arts, had four years' seniority on Jones. "Chemistry gone terribly wrong" was his private joke. He was fluent in German and understood all too well the meanings of the various conversations. They were the auslanders in the faculty. He didn't like the way things were and claimed to see few alternatives. Keep your head low, keep your enrollment up and stay out of the Headmaster's line of sight was the advice he offered Jones when she grumbled.

"Are you through?" Rabe did not speak English and he wasn't interested in learning it. "I think that Professor Jones has offered the best idea. Of course, it is the only suggestion..." He looked around at the others. No one else seemed to have anything to share. The few who were not were glaring at Jones, were looking out the small window. "Of course, the demonstrations will be of a level in parallel to the class. Professor Haken's classes will receive simpler presentations and Professor Gregorov's will be offered a more complex example. Professor Jones, I expect something special from you."

Everyone nodded and wrote little notes to themselves.

"So, what are you doing? Your classes deal with theory and substitution values." Jones looked expectantly at Rabe. He looked away.

"I will coordinate the demonstrations."

Grinning, Jones nudged Wronski. "Those who can't...." Having made her living off her skills for years, she had no doubts about her abilities. She wasn't certain about several of the others.