Teamwork

Chapter 3

The first snows settled over the grounds, making it a patchwork of white, green and gray. Drifts appeared against the walls and the winds swirled frigidly in the confines, forcing even the most dedicated of smokers inside as quickly as the cigarette could be dragged down. The dark times were coming.

The Dark Arts professors had their offices and living quarters across from the castle in a low stone building, which, a century earlier, had been the stables. In a bad winter, the entire structure would be buried in snow. A winding muddy path led from the castle's stone stairs to the heavy wooden door of the building.

Jones looked up at the slam of the door and listened as someone stomped the melting snow and mud off his boots. Must be Rabe. He was the only one who seemed to care whether the hallway was clean or not. It was hard to get the staff to walk the distance from the castle to the offices to clean. They would soon start claiming the snow was too deep to make it across the courtyard. In truth, the smell and some of the less lovely debris frightened them. Just another part of the ambiance at Durmstrang.

The staff room was positioned at the midpoint of the hall. It was cozy in its seediness. A large, badly drafting fireplace was centrally located with several chairs and a battered couch arranged around it. The scarred table with its circle of chairs stood opposite the fire, shoved as close to the opposite wall as possible. At the back wall, a deep sink had been poorly plumbed in, its faucet dripped constantly and no one could be bothered to fix it. Tucked into a back corner, two tatty armchairs were placed on either side of a small round table. Glasses and mugs were liberally scattered over every flat surface.

From her favorite spot in the one of the tatty chairs in the back, Jones looked up at the rest of the staff. Almost everyone was in his place tonight.

Haken was solidly in the spot closest to the fire. Huge piles of parchment surrounded him. The first and second-year Introduction to the Dark Arts classes were mandatory, resulting in a lot of work to grade. Haken had simplified things by giving the same homework to all of his classes in the same year and had developed spells to grade several at a time. It was no secret that he always used the same questions each term. There was a brisk business in selling old assignments.

Gregorov had taken over the wretched table, spreading his paperwork over as much of the surface as possible. The annual contest of trying to level it had begun. Last term, they had tried a levitating spell that kept it nicely level as long as no one touched it, but the slightest pressure made it slide away. It had given the group something to bet on. Many drinks had been spilled that year. When Kessler's full bottle of vodka hit the stone floor, the effort had been declared a failure. This year, it seemed the old standby of shimming the legs with bits of parchment had been resumed.

Jones grinned as she watched Rabe, his arms full of homework scrolls, circle the table as he tried to decide whether he could sit there. Gregorov hadn't managed to cover the entire table. Usually, Siegfried Kessler occupied the other half, but he hadn't arrived yet. Next to Gregorov, there was an empty bottle on its side and another one half finished next to it. Rabe looked at the bottles, at the almost-empty glass that Gregorov was drinking from, and opted to find somewhere else to sit.

She lit another cigarette and waved at the smoke. To keep Gregorov quiet, she had worked out a charm to capture the smoke and its odor. It worked great except that it sometimes got too thick even for her. Next to her, Wronski slouched in the other tatty chair, deep in one of his chemistry journals, his folders of homework completely forgotten.

De Rais alternately read from a leather-bound book and stared out of the window over the sink. He never seemed to have papers to grade.

Occasionally, Kessler's booming voice could be heard. Although his quarters were at one end of the hall, his half of a conversation was easily heard. A woman's laugh sounded shrilly, sounding young and nervous. Jones grimaced.

Lowenstein lounged at one end of the couch as he read through a pile of scrolls. He looked like the self-portrait of Albrecht Durer, or at least Jones thought so. His small, dark-haired wife, Magda, sat next to him, knitting. Jones didn't understand why Magda put up with the crowd of women who surrounded Lowenstein. During the few sunny days, Lowenstein would sit outside, surrounded by an adoring group of female students and women from the village. Magda would be there, too, but still...

"What are your plans for next month?" Settling onto the other end of the couch, Rabe asked Lowenstein.

Golden eyes stared sleepily back. "A warding spell. I do not think my other specialties should be demonstrated to children." Magda sniffed as she knitted furiously.

"Professor Gregorov?"

The chair scraped as Gregorov swung around. "I thought I would summon a demon. Nothing too exciting, but it is the sort of thing the students expect to see done."

"I see. A demon. The same demon for each of your classes?" Rabe cocked his head to one side, waiting for the obvious to sink in.

"Why not? I could do it in tandem with Ludwig. He could place the wards and I could do the summoning. Two at once!" Gregorov looked smug.

"Uh. Don't you think that will piss off the demon?" Wronski put down his journal. "I thought they expected to have something to do when you call them."

"Feh. What do you know? Keep to your potions." Gregorov started to turn back to his papers.

"Paul's right. You better have all your lines drawn really solid if you're going to call the same one each time. Lowenstein should do the wards, too. They'll need to be strong or you'll be dead." Jones took a last drag and stubbed the cigarette out. "I've seen what happens when you tease them too much."

"Did you call an incubus and he refused you?" Gregorov growled, sounding as if he was looking for a fight. "Did you scare him with your beauty?"

Jones sneered back. "Very funny. No. I saw a drunk wizard call the same demon three times. He just wanted to talk to one. Didn't have anything for it to do. He made the mistake of not casting strong wards and, when he leaned forward to get a better look, he smudged the circle. Not pretty. I barely got out of there alive. There were bits of him smeared all over the room when I came back to look the next day."

"What? You did not stay to save the day? I thought you were a powerful witch. Is it not true that you know everything?" Gregorov asked sarcastically. He knew which buttons to push. "I thought you were one of the best dark witches in A-mer-ik-a. Is that not why you had to come here?" His drunken humor overwhelmed him and he collapsed into coughing laughter.

Jones had enough and her hands arced up, "Crucio!"

Gregorov convulsed in pain and let out a yelp. When he could breathe, he pushed back from the table and took out his own wand.

"Sit down! You deserved it! You were baiting her!" Rabe jumped up and stood between them.

"I'm not afraid of him. I've dealt with greater powers than his." Jones glowered back. "I used to do this for a living."

Gregorov very slowly put his wand away and eased back into his chair. He glared at her for several minutes, but he turned back to his paperwork.

Jones sat back down and stared at the door in silence, trying to calm down.

"Cool." Wronski picked up his journal again. "No wand - that ought to make you tired for a while. You're such a show horse." He spoke in English, noticing only Lowenstein paid any attention. "So, cowboy, how many have you stood off?"

"Four. That was when they put the locator spell on me. They were going to put a reducer spell on, too, but I got free long enough to fight. I had to run for it. Couldn't cast a decent spell for weeks. Luckily, they didn't get to the airport before I did." She rummaged around in her satchel. "Shit! I'm out of cigarettes. I need a drink."

"All that power and you're going to kill yourself with those things first." Wronski shut the journal and reached for his stack of folders. "Time to see why Johann can't get his potions to work."

"Why don't you teach chemistry at a real university? I mean, there's got to be a better place for someone like you than here."

He shrugged. "Why not here? It's not like I have a choice any more. It isn't that bad." He didn't sound convincing. "I have a lab full of ham-handed, hormone-driven teenagers who really don't care what they're doing as long as they can kill something with it or possibly blow up their neighbor's cauldron. Hey, what could be better?"

Jones decided to change the subject. Given a chance, Wronski would turn the rest of the evening into a gripe session. For someone only in his mid thirties, Wronski possessed a large supply of bitterness. "So, what are you going to do next month? Any ideas?"

"None." He set the stack of folders aside, obviously not in the mood to grade. "I had thought of some kind of melting potion. One you can secrete it in a drink or food and the person melts from the reaction. I thought that would be impressive, but then the budget constraints were mentioned and I don't think I could fix anyone after that. The healing end of things isn't my strong suit. You?"

"Well, my specialty is blood spells. I could do any number of things, but they aren't very spectacular. Too subtle. I could do a full binding ritual like the one we got, but I still have nightmares about it. There's a nasty one where the spell peels off the various layers starting with the skin and ending with the marrow. It's very gory. Perfect for this crowd. Takes a lot of set-up time though and needs something from the target. There are a bunch of easy ones with a high gore factor. I was hoping we would have another staff meeting and discuss what everyone was going to do. I don't want to copy anyone else's plans."

Lowenstein looked interested. In German he said, "You can do the parting spells? I have only seen them once at the Dark Arts Conference. Quite impressive. A great deal of chanting and gesturing."

"Doesn't have to be. My variant requires more direct contact with the subject, but the results are the same." She watched as Lowenstein translated her horrible accent and then nodded a few seconds later. "What else would you demonstrate other than the warding stuff? Your barrier spells are great, but maybe not very Dark Arts-ish?"

Lowenstein looked uncomfortable. He didn't seem to know how to answer. Magda looked up from the sweater she was working on. "Sex. Ludwig is known for his sex work." There was a loud outburst of laughter. Magda looked nonplussed. "It is true. I have seen the effects." More snickering. "Laugh! What is wonderful, can become a curse when the intent is there." Several mouths twitched with unasked questions. Soon, the only sound was the shuffling of parchments and the occasional clink of a glass being set down.

The evening wore on in relative silence. Everyone got at least some of their pile of work graded. The occasional grunt of amusement or annoyance from a teacher, the scratch of quills, Wronski's endless clicking of his pen, and the rather irritating drip from the faucet were the only sounds. The fire burned low.

"Full moon." Haken waved his wand and his parchments sorted themselves into some order that made sense to him. "Who wishes to join me for a hunt?"

Gregorov slammed down his glass. "Ja!"

"Gilles?"

Gilles looked slowly around at them. "I'm always interested in death."

"Rose?"

She shook her head. "Not tonight. I can't keep up with you anyway."

"Paul?"

"Definitely."

"Ludwig?"

Lowenstein looked over at his wife who waved him away. "Ja."

"Todor?"

Rabe sighed loudly. "You know that I cannot see that well at night. If you succeed, let me know where it is."

Gregorov smiled. "Scavenger." Then, Gregorov was no longer there. A gray wolf stood in his place.

Jones hauled herself out of her chair. "I'll open the door." She walked down the hall to the huge door yelling, "Siegfried! Hunt?"

In response, a bear ambled down the hall. She braced herself and opened the door as the wind swirled the new snow in. The wolf leapt forward in the drifts. Kessler's huge form lumbered after, followed closely by the dog Haken, Paul's lynx, and a leopard. She started to close the door then realized Lowenstein was still hovering in the entrance. "What's wrong?" she asked, eager to close the door against the cold.

"Too much effort," he said with a yawn. "Too cold."

"What kind of predator are you? Get out!" She held the door open and watched as the golden lion slowly plodded after them.

"Why do you not go as well?" Rabe asked when she returned to the staff room. He cleared off an end of the table as he prepared to return to his own grading.

"I can't keep up. Badger's legs are too short. Pour me a glass of whatever they were drinking."