Shadow over the Urals

Author's notes: Well, this chapter was a hair-puller for sure! Thanks so much to my excellent beta Baghee, from Perfect Imagination, for helping me out so much, despite being very busy in RL. You're the best!!!

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Chapter Three - Settling In

Dinner was dreadful. An odd-smelling and very stringy meat sandwich lay forlornly on a chipped plate on her desk. Despite the fact that Secessa was starving and hardly had eaten any of the lunch (which consisted of sad pieces of vegetable floating around in a thin, salty liquid vaguely reminiscent of muddy water), she pushed the bowl away after a few minutes of consideration and decided (just like her fellow-apprentice had done earlier) that the circumstances simply would not do. Reaching for her used, fur-lined teachers' cloak that had been recently delivered by a house-elf, she rose from her splintery office desk and abandoned the sandwich to go see if her owl had arrived yet.

Her young, recently acquired owl sat contented on a perch on the second floor of the sparsely populated school Owlery, seemingly unaware of the fact that a cold draft was seeping in through the angled, semi-closed turret shutters. But then, Odin was a Siberian Eagle owl, and his speckled plumage was thick enough to withstand most temperatures.

"Found your way alright, did you?" she asked fondly and gave him a soft pat. He looked rather proud of himself and watched with interest as she scribbled a few words on a scrap of parchment.

"Take this to Mizil, please," she said, and tied it to his outstretched leg. "I don't think I should summon him here; it might offend the school elves. And be back as soon as you can." He nibbled gently at her finger and then took off.

Having thus effectively arranged for the relief of any future food cravings, she quickly left the cold tower. Her steps lithe from years of practice, she climbed down the steep, winding stone steps from the owlery turret, and walked briskly through an abandoned first-floor corridor, passing several classrooms before reaching Dark Arts classroom at the end. A flood of memories barged through her mind, memories of running to class wearing the supple fur-lined boots she had received on her birthday from her father, memories of exams, of mock duels, and of transfiguring mittens into squirrels. Wearing a small smile, she emerged at the spacious study area by the staircase where she had spent countless hours during her youth, trying to focus on homework amidst the general bustle of loud boys.

The evening light still shone in through the windows, and she tried to preserve the image in her mind, knowing torches would soon light the place for most of the day. With a small sigh, she then hurried down the sparsely lit, quiet Main Staircase, past the familiar rows of snoring, white statues, through to the dim Entrance Hall with its flickering blue torches, and continued down the small staircase that led down to the dungeons.

The Durmstrang dungeons were low-ceilinged, dark, and contained a small set of corridors that led to the Hag dormitory, the school library and (for those fortunate enough to know) the school kitchens. Outside the library, the corridor turned and formed a conspicuous dead end. Some of the corridor wall carried words in faded graffiti between mould stains; notably the notorious Grindelwald had left a mark during his time at school and scribbled the words "Towards a New Dawn" on the wall next to a triangular symbol. Apparently, he had managed to procure permanently sticking ink, for the words had remained sharp on the wall for almost a century, and, down here, no caretaker had yet bothered to replace the stones.

Secessa had spent ample time in the dungeons as a student, and, pausing with only her dully-glowing wand-tip as a guide, she fondly traced her fingers along a familiar rock on the left-hand wall almost at the end of the corridor. She pressed the rock firmly. Immediately, the stones in front of her reorganised themselves into a small opening and the small head of an elf peeped out. Her enormous brown eyes eyed Secessa up and down.

"Why, Miss Laburova? What ... I mean ... is Miss Laburova visiting?"

"I'm Apprentice Professor here, actually," Secessa said. "I just arrived today." The elf's eyes grew even wider, her ears suddenly flushed pink at the tips and she hurriedly snapped her fingers. The opening slammed shut and she reappeared at Secessa's left, bowing deeply.

"Apprentice Professor Laburova must forgive poor Tepa," she said, her ears drooping as she gave Secessa a long, nervous look. "Many new arrivals today - kitchen very busy. Tepa a very bad elf for not finding out new names from Headmaster. How may Tepa help, Professor?"

"I would like something to eat."

The elf grew even pinker. "Tepa is very sorry Professor was not served this evening. Next time, Professor must summon Tepa immediately, not waste precious time coming to kitchens. Tepa will fetch bowl of soup straight away!"

Secessa's hand stopped the elf in mid-air. "I was hoping for something a bit more sustaining."

The elf's ears flicked, and she sunk firmly to the floor, looking apologetic. "Tepa is not allowed to serve anything but dinner, Professor. Headmaster Karkaroff will be very cross with Tepa if she disobeys, and Tepa will have to punish herself most severely. Tepa cannot ..." Her ears drooped again, and she rubbed her nose with a long index finger.

"Surely there must be something else in the kitchens?" Secessa hesitated. "Some leftovers, perhaps?"

"But Professor would not wish to eat leftovers. It is not becoming ..."

"Is it meat?"

"Yes?"

"Then Professor does wish."

The kitchen elf seemed to go through some internal struggle for a brief second, and then she disappeared with a pop. A moment later, she reappeared with a plate containing a chicken leg, a small potato and some mixed vegetables. Her hand was twitching slightly from moral indecision.

"Oh, not to worry," Secessa said quickly, as she noticed that the plate belonged to the Headmaster's personal dinnerware. "It looks absolutely dreadful. I wouldn't even call it food. But perhaps I can sit down and just try a taste of it before I throw it away?"

The elf brightened slightly, and her hand steadied. "That is most good of Professor! Professor can sit in kitchen." She tapped the wall to her left, which this time reorganised itself into a large opening. Inside, a small group of house-elves in the middle of cleaning up the immense, square kitchen immediately ceased their tasks and bowed low. Two of them then hurriedly cleared one of the numerous tables, at which Secessa was firmly sat down, and, excusing themselves most profusely, they went back to supervising mops dancing eagerly across the floor and dinnerware flying in an orderly manner across the room towards large sink, where other elves were busy supervising the washing of the dishes. Tepa, however, appeared with a jug of water and a glass, which she refilled as soon as Secessa took a sip.

The chicken was delicious, but sadly inadequate to satisfy anyone's hunger, and vanished too quickly by far. Secessa, however, savoured her small victory the best she could, and smiled at Tepa as she finished nibbling at the bone. Then she realised what an opportune situation she had just landed herself in.

"So, how is it working for a new Headmaster?" she said in her kindest voice (she could produce one, it just took a fair bit of concentration). "Lots of changes, I hear."

"Us elves manage fine," Tepa said stoutly, but then her ears drooped yet again. "But sudden death of Headmaster Gregorovitch very sad." The two elves that had cleared the table and were now cleaning on of the giant, old iron stoves nodded solemnly.

"Heart attack, was it?"

"Tepa found Headmaster when she came to relight Headmaster's fire. Poor Headmaster was already dead and blotchy."

Slowly, Secessa pushed her plate away with a frown. One of the elves immediately disappeared with it, and another briskly wiped the table before rushing away to continue tidying. Tepa, however, seemed rather content with her rapt audience.

"Blotchy?"

"Yes, Professor, dark green blotches on poor Headmaster's chest," Tepa continued sadly. "Then Tepa called for help and soon Healers carried Headmaster away. Tepa very sad she did not arrive sooner."

Secessa eyed the elf sharply. "And the blotches, did they stay?"

"Tepa was happy to see ugly blotches gone when Healers came." A small tear appeared in the elf's eye. "Old Headmaster dignified man."

"Yes, he certainly was," Secessa said absent-mindedly, her mind suddenly fixed on the blurred image of page in an old, hand-written book in her family library that she had read in her fifth year while researching for a poisons project. Had it had said something about "greene staines"? Or was it grey ones? She had to check to be sure...

Patting the elf absent-mindedly on the shoulder, she rose. "Thank you for the food, Tepa. It was very kind of you. And I will arrange for some food of my own in the future, so you will not have to serve me more evening snacks."

The elf was relieved. "Professor is most kind. Not that Tepa does not want to help ..."

"Yes, I know, Tepa. New regulations."

Secessa left the kitchen followed by Tepa, who insisted on bowing all the way out through the re-formed hole in the wall. Then, the elf snapped her fingers firmly, and disappeared at the same instant as the kitchen opening closed with a quiet rumble.

Walking back through the library corridor, her path hazily lit by a few torches that flickered feebly, Secessa was immersed in thought. Now, who would want to kill the old Headmaster? she asked herself. She agreed with the Controller Orlov that Karkaroff's arrival was suspicious, but she could not understand why he would wish to be Headmaster in the first place. To be Headmaster at Durmstrang Institute was a respectable title, but the title only conveyed power at the school itself, since the school was extremely reclusive and not involved in politics.

Something dark flashed by the edge of her vision, and Secessa stopped abruptly. Instinctively, she held her breath.

"Do you think that is you stand absolutely still, I will not see you?" said a misty voice, and she turned around on the spot. A few steps down the corridor stood the thin, hooded shape of the Durmstrang librarian.

"Newcomer's nerves, I suppose, Mr. Cherniak," she replied tersely, trying to seem composed. "Still keeping everyone on their toes, I see?"

"As you are no longer a student, Secessa Laburova, and as we have known each other for some time, you may call me Vladimir. That is, if you wish." His voice was breezy and detached as usual, but as he stepped into the bluish light from a nearby torch, the blue eyes in his dark, finely lined face gleamed with unusual intensity from inside the hood.

For a brief moment, Secessa felt uncertain. The two of them had developed a quiet sort of truce during her last year at school, when she had spent countless hours in the library, struggling to pass Advanced Runes. She had always thought well of the librarian because of his calm, collected manner, but she was uncertain whether she could call him a 'friend'. Then she shrugged inwardly.

"Of course, Vladimir." The name tasted strange in her mouth, and she searched her mind for a light conversational subject. She had difficulties finding one. "I was just visiting the kitchens," she continued after a pause. "It seems leftovers are difficult to get hold of these days."

The librarian gave her a brief, stony smile. "You need to build up your reputation. The kitchen elves have not yet dared to serve me a sub-standard meal."

"You have had some fifty years plus of haunting these dungeons. I'd say that's a long path to walk for a decent meal."

"Oh, but they were scared of me from the moment I started working here."

Vladimir, with his grey skin and white hair, was severely magically handicapped, and when she arrived at Durmstrang, he was the first of his kind she had ever met. Manabilia, the disease was called, and, although known to be a very rare affliction, it had recently had begun to crop up within the pure-blood families of the Russian wizard population.

Even though they were subjected to strong Restraining Charms most of the time, the children suffering from the disease had to constantly battle erratic magical powers while learning to control them. It was hard, especially as their cowardly parents mostly chose to leave them in a closed-off area with a brand new edition of Magic in Five Easy Steps by Stepan Agafonov. During the training, the wild magic wreaked havoc on their bodies and turned their minds to confused thoughts between recurring headaches. When the parents had had enough, which in most cases happened as soon as the child had ruined its first piece of family heirloom, they left their child in a dark Muggle backstreet to die. If the Manabilants, as they were called, survived, they bore telltale pigment changes as adults. It was no wonder hardly any of them became very skilled in magic, and to 'help' them on their way into society, the Ministry had decided their wands should be protected with Limiting Charms, just in case. All in all, it was a great way to foster criminals, and Vladimir had been lucky.

Now that she knew more about how the world worked, Secessa wondered how he had kept his job, which was a very good position. He had to still have good contact with his family, the Cherniaks, who were influential. She was not surprised that he carried some respect with him on a day-to-day basis; in a school like Durmstrang, fear was everything, and no one messed with someone whom they suspected had bad magical control. However, she found the thought of Vladmir Cherniak losing it simply ludicrous. Besides, why would he risk his position by meddling with strong magic in the first place?

Realising their conversation had paused ominously she said the first thing that came to mind.

"If you sneak up on them like this, I'm not surprised." The comment felt inane, and looking down at her feet, she chewed on her lip.

Vladimir Cherniak smiled a little. He was pleased to have a young, inexperienced pure-blood take the most coveted apprentice position just after the change of Headmastery at Durmstrang. It stirred things up neatly, and kept the attention away from him. "If you say so," he replied. "Anyway, it is good to have you back. Beasts didn't agree with you?"

She clenched her teeth as she looked up, and considered for a wild moment to tell him that since he was labelled a half-beast in the Ministry records, that comment was ill considered. "Some of them did," she said shortly. "Others didn't. The latter was a problem. For them, of course."

"Of course. Well, teaching will suit you, I think. It suits the studious mind."

"I hope so."

There was a brief silence, in which he studied her calmly, evaluating her.

"Yes, you must come around for tea some time," he said. "You know where to find me."

There was a brief flutter of grey fabric, and then he had disappeared in the shadows. The bluish torchlight flickered again, and Secessa blinked, trying to organise her thoughts. It had been a long day, and her mind felt heavy. She sighed, walked up to the staircase, and begun the long ascent to her quarters.

***

Slowly and meticulously, Vladimir Cherniak surveyed the draughty, dimly lit staff room. Watching the other teachers was a chief enjoyment of his, and as hardly anyone ever met his eyes, he was free to pursue his hobby as he pleased. He was an astute observer and regarded himself as somewhat of an expert on Durmstrang politics, having spent almost forty years of his life here.

It was the last day before the start of term, and all the teachers were gathered, waiting for the new Headmaster to begin his first official staff meeting. Twilight seeped in through the large, gothic windows, and a small fire crackled in the chipped fireplace protruding from the wall furthest away from the entrance. Teachers stood scattered throughout the room, a few of them laboriously eyeing the old leather furniture or otherwise pretending to be occupied.

Although Vladimir was aware of the changes made by the new Headmaster, they were particularly obvious today -- the old were to be replaced with the new. Five new apprenticeships had been assigned to what the Headmaster seemed to consider young malleable minds (bearing in mind they all fit the profile of young, inexperienced and eager), and the new caretaker, Antonin Dolohov, kept a stern watch over them all, making sure they knew their place.

The older teachers, who were to be replaced, appeared restless, as if they only just now had realised the Headmaster's plans. The old Charms teacher, Sergei Linev, paced the floor with his hands clasped behind his back, muttering something underneath his grey-streaked beard, and the Ancient Runes master, Jacek Mirowski, stood in a corner with his thin hands clasped tightly together, his eyebrows twitching nervously under strands of white, ruffled hair. And no wonder they were agitated: they had each been assigned difficult apprentices. Vladimir had quickly surmised that the pretty, raven-haired Charms apprentice was a girl afraid of her own shadow, but then that was rather obvious. He was much more fascinated by the potential prospects of the Ancient Runes apprentice - a brown-haired, sharp-faced lad who looked like he was capable of just about anything beastly.

Another very interesting addition to the staff was a square-faced, black-haired youth standing by the fireplace, poking the tiny fire with precise movements using an iron fork. His name was Gregor Ursus, and was apprenticed to Manfred Wiegand, teacher of Transfiguration. Vladimir remembered Ursus from his time at the school, and he was certainly not the type of character he would have imagined to return as a teacher. He had been talented, certainly, but he had been caught doing petty misdemeanours more than a few times, and Vladimir had fully expected him to pursue a criminal career in his homeland of East Germany.

Vladimir's train of thought was interrupted as the door opened and young Laburova stepped inside. She took up a place not far from Vladimir with a bored expression, but he could see that when she glanced lazily around the room, her eyes were sharp underneath the lashes, like those of a fox. He wondered, like he had done once before, if her Ministry education had included Animagus training. Khuditski, he thought, was one of the luckier tutors, for sure, but then again, he had had the opportunity to pick and choose.

His thoughts meandered back to their original track, namely the Headmaster succession. A letter from Headmaster Gregorovitch had been found, naming his successor, an unknown. And then, suddenly, the teachers were replaced and Khuditski was finally allowed to extend his research into the Dark Arts of old. It seemed circumstantial, perhaps, but at Durmstrang, there were no such thing as circumstances. Someone was planning something, and he did not think they had the school's best interests in mind.

It must be added at this point, that any thoughts by the new Headmaster of replacing the school librarian had been crushed at an early stage due to the school's plummeting economy. The Cherniak family's contributions to the school were significant and solely dependent on Librarian Vladimir's continued employment. And with his genetic defect seemingly slowing down his aging process (he looked about thirty-five instead of fifty-five), he ought to have between seventy and a hundred years of undisputed library rule left, that is, if he didn't just drop dead one day. The Healers really weren't that sure of the details when it came to this new disease.

For now, he would let things take their due course, Vladimir decided. It was not certain that the new Headmaster posed a threat to the school or its secrets. But the librarian was merely biding his time. There was dangerous knowledge stored in secret places in Durmstrang that needed to remain hidden from greedy hands. He would take some precautions, just to be sure.

As if on cue (at least to Vladimir; the rest of the staff were somewhat annoyed with the slight and no doubt pre-meditated delay), the door opened and the doubtful character that was the instigator of the new rule at Durmstrang Institute entered the staff room.

Igor Karkaroff was in good spirits. He had carefully curled his goatee upwards in celebration of his new appointment, and he had draped the heavy Headmaster's cloak around his shoulders in a well-calculated display of authority. The furry garment caused some envy, however, as the new Headmaster had cut down on the supply of firewood, and the Ancient Runes teacher muttered something between his teeth.

Karkaroff carried out the staff meeting, or perhaps it shall be called the staff speech, with smooth eloquence, drawing out class-schedules for the upcoming year with an assuredness of wand-hand that indicated that everyone was to work on his terms alone or not at all. The apprentices were to take over the younger classes in October, to "ease the burden of the older teachers," and any questions regarding the new school regulations were to be forwarded to the caretaker. Finally, the teachers were welcome to use the school owls for personal deliveries, as the Headmaster realised that the new regulations might impose on their comfort. His last words brought out some brief glares, but no one said anything, and then the meeting ended.

Vladimir noted as he left the room that Karkaroff asked Apprentice Professor Laburova to remain behind with Khuditski. He was briefly tempted to stay and listen and the door, but decided against it, and made his way towards the dungeons. There was some work to be done, and he would rather do it sooner than later.

*

"Ah, Secessa, I believe you remember Professor Gadko Khuditski from your time at school?"

Of course she did. How could anyone forget that mean, wrinkled face reminiscent of a white prune, with its cold calculating grey eyes? Secessa nodded impassively and walked up to the small, black-robed man who was leaning on a silver cane. Headmaster Karkaroff's paternal arm around her shoulders did not diminish the disgust that welled up within her as she watched her former teacher wipe some snot from underneath his nose, using an old hand with skin like parchment.

"Ah, yes," Khuditski said in a wheezy voice as he briefly eyed his old student. He remembered being particularly happy with Miss Laburova throughout her student years. Khuditski prided himself for being exceptionally skilled at keeping his Advanced Dark Arts classes at the highest level. No seventh-year student of his ever failed, but then he drilled them hard and picked only the best. Secessa Laburova, with her well-practiced skill with beasts, had been a joy to watch. Her duelling had not been very advanced, but with a beast-hand like that, she had managed her top marks anyway. Unusual for a girl, which was why he had bothered to write her a letter of recommendation.

"Miss Laburova," he continued with a small smile that really only translated into a vague twitch of the corners of his mouth, "Particularly talented with Dark Beasts. But not pleased with the Beast Academy. Or was the Beast Academy not pleased with you?"

She tried not to glare at him, and forced herself to respond neutrally. "I'd say the feeling was mutual, Professor. The profession did not suit me."

Khuditski laughed breezily, although his eyes narrowed slightly. "The more talent for us. I assume the Headmaster has informed you of my ... little project?"

"I believe I'm to assist you in your research, Professor? I'm not informed of the details."

"I saw no reason to inform her," said the Headmaster," as I thought you might wish to be, ah ... selective ... with what you tell her."

Khuditski smiled a bit broader, showing a row of yellow teeth. "Quite right, Headmaster. Your discreetness is ... commendable." He glanced around the room and waited until the last teachers had exited.

"As the Headmaster knows," he continued, his steely eyes glinting, "I have an interest in the Dark Arts of the Byzantium period, and I have recently acquired a rare book which I have begun to decipher. However, the spells in it are of an, shall I say, unusual kind, and will require a lot of trial-and-error practice, not to mention copious notes. I need someone to with a ... nimble hand, to supervise the note-taking and organise the records while I make my experiments."

"Shouldn't be a problem, eh?" Professor Karkaroff said, still grinning.

"Certainly not," Secessa replied with a small smile.

"And I believe there is a lot for you to learn in the process as well," he continued cheerfully, and patted her back.

"I'm sure there will be," she replied, although she really did not think they meant the same kind of learning. Her esteem for Controller Orlov's forethought was rising considerably; he had put her in a perfect position at the school.

"That's settled then," the Headmaster finished with a toothy grin, and Khuditski bowed to him before turning to Secessa."

"My office, Wednesday, seven p.m. Do not be late, girl." He gave her an evil little smile, which she bore with unusual tolerance, turned towards the wall and tapped a few of the stones with his wand. The wall behind them blurred, as if out of focus, and changed into a large wooden door. It opened to reveal a small, turning staircase.

"You must show me all of these hidden doors one day, eh, Gadko," called Professor Karkaroff heartily as Khuditski climbed up the stairs, the door slamming shut behind him and turning again into stone.

"And now, Secessa, if I may escort you to your quarters?" said the Headmaster and extended an elbow. Secessa took it, hiding her surprise with a complacent smile.

The new Headmaster was certainly affable company enough, if you ignored his cold eyes, and Secessa was pleasantly deposited outside her rooms.

"And one last thing," said Professor Karkaroff just as she was about to excuse herself. "I hope you agree that any research committed within these walls should be for the benefit of the school?"

"Well, that would certainly be ideal," she replied.

"Good! I will expect your arrival at my office promptly at 7 a.m. every Thursday morning, for a briefing on your work. Professor Khuditski is naturally very secretive of what he does, but I believe a clever young lady like yourself understands the necessity of supervision."

"Absolutely," she said and lavished him with another small smile. The Headmaster strode away, his rich cloak swaying gracefully behind him. Secessa watched him thoughtfully for a brief moment before entering her quarters, wondering what, exactly, he was planning.

***

It had not occurred to Secessa when she arrived at Durmstrang that some people may not take kindly to her snatching the most coveted apprentice position at the school. She was, after all, despite her failure at the Ministry School for Beast Control, very convinced at her own supremacy in the subject of the Dark Arts, and not at all surprised that children may wish to learn from her (although she did not hold them in any high regard), and that the teachers were bound to respect her. Hence, when Apprentice Professor Gregor Ursus met her walking up the staircase on her way back from Dolohov's office (where all large packets sent to the school were deposited to be searched for prohibited items) the next day, she was perfectly cordial. He, however, was not.

Gregor Ursus was by no means a handsome man. In fact, his large, potato-shaped nose mismatched his small, pale eyes most obtrusively, and his skin had an unfortunate sickly greyish hue. He was of a sturdy build, however, and had evaded the bullies in school by sheer presence supported by a talent for hexes. Ursus was a couple of years Secessa's senior, and although he like her had an excellent Dark Arts and Transfiguration record from his school years, his family had always been poor and their name insignificant.

After the fall of Grindelwald, the Easter European Ministries had, in an effort to supervise the Dark dealings in their respective countries, chosen to put a compulsory Trace on all Dark items and resign all workplaces within governmental control. Apprentice Ursus had missed out on all opportunities in his life so far due to pure-blooded people like Secessa taking up all the good work positions, and had during his early twenties combined occasional jobs in private tuition with smuggling illegal Dark Arts items into Berlin.

Ursus had managed to get by, for sure, but it was not, perhaps, the illustrious career he had expected with his talents, and, after some years running down bad alleys in the dark, he wanted change. Secessa being assigned the apprentice position he had initially applied for with much hope was the last on a long list of offences he believed directed at him by the pure-blood wizarding society in general. His built-up anger and spite finally had a point of focus, and Secessa, with her high cheekbones and good background, was the ultimate target.

"Ah, the Headmaster's new favourite," he drawled and lithely stepped down the stairs to hover one step above her as he extended his hand in greeting; they had not yet had the chance to speak to each other. Secessa gave him a half-smile and was momentarily dumbfounded by his choice of words. "Distinguished family background, I hear. And Ministry education?" he continued as he clasped her hand rather too hard. "I'm Apprentice Professor Gregor Ursus, Transfigurations, I worked rather hard for my position, you know. Not all of us come from ... what shall I say ... the coveted classes."

Secessa withdrew her hand from his sweaty grip, still frowning. "Really, I don't quite understand. You must be under some sort of misapprehension -"

"Delivery from home, eh?" he said, regarding the large package underneath her arm with a lazy eye. "Yes, of course, the local arrangements can't be agreeable for someone of your preferences."

"My preferences?!" Secessa exclaimed while rather guiltily squeezing the package of tasty elf-made titbits underneath her arm with new vigour. Something inside made a resounding crunch. Ursus smiled indulgently and Secessa's felt a flush rise on her cheeks. "Now listen here," she said curtly, straightening, "I -"

"I shan't keep you," he said airily, "do be on your way." He bowed, turned his back on her, and continued downwards. Secessa glared at his receding back, noticing a loose hem sticking out from underneath his clean but well-worn and somewhat tatty robes. She looked at it thoughtfully until Ursus disappeared from view, her fury momentarily suspended by the intrusion of feelings of vague pity. They did not last long, however, and she stomped up to her rooms in blazing anger.

It was of course impossible for Secessa to continue with her lesson plans that afternoon, silently seething as she was. Ursus had been too close to the mark for comfort, even if she knew he could not possibly know how she had acquired her position as Apprentice Professor of the Dark Arts. She felt properly insulted by his accusations, although there was enough truth in them for her not to be able to retaliate with full sincerity. Hence, their conversation swirled in through her head again and again until she abruptly threw her quill down, got up from her desk and walked out the door. It was time, she decided, for her to continue with her proper job, the one that she had been especially assigned to do by the Ministry. Her second occupation, at least, was very real, even if her first one was not.

***

Vladimir had just finished mending some particularly damaged copies of third-year transfiguration books when he heard the soft footsteps outside the library door indicating a visitor. The female in question hesitated a while outside, enough for Vladimir to change his expression of mild surprise into a more suitable one of calculated indifference.

"The door's open," he said breezily, putting the books aside.

A small push at the door and it swung open soundlessly. Apprentice Professor Secessa Laburova stood in the doorway with somewhat flushed cheeks.

Even though Vladimir admittedly had invited her to befriend him, he had not expected her to respond so quickly, and, furthermore, he was not very used to visitors. Therefore, he merely looked at her from where he sat, unsure of what to say. So, it seemed to him, was she.

"Some meeting yesterday," she said after a moment's hesitation. She glanced out over the numerous bookshelves and wooden study tables, and her eyes softened briefly.

"It was very ... informative," he replied. Their eyes locked for a moment. Her cool, grey-blue pools were insistent, he thought, almost as if she was trying to communicate something that could not be said out loud.

"Have a seat ... please," Vladimir continued and indicated a wooden chair for her while rapidly evaluating the situation. The fact that she had visited him so soon after the staff meeting meant either, one, that she wanted to discuss it with him for some reason (not very likely), two, that the meeting had inspired her to take some action to improve her alliances (slightly more plausible), or three, that Karkaroff had told her to spy on him (unlikely, considering their short acquaintance).

Putting his work aside, he tried his best to look welcoming. He was not very good at that - however hard he tried to stir up friendly thoughts, people tended to worriedly avert their eyes from his by default, a behaviour that, however tiresome, long had stopped bothering him much. Much to his surprise, Secessa sat down looking less hesitant, so he decided must have produced some sort of calming expression.

"Trust is a difficult thing at Durmstrang."

He realised he had been talking out aloud and was surprised by himself. Secessa, however, did not notice his brief discomposure, and took his words as an invitation.

"Very difficult," she replied.

She looked up at Vladimir Cherniak. His eyes were sharp and bright in the dusky light of the library. A few strands of white hair framed his long face, which looked very dark under the semi-shadow of his hood. For a moment, she felt an urge to withdraw it, and pull him out of the shadows.

"I have a question for you, Vladimir," she said, after a moment's hesitation. The words rolled heavily on her tongue, and she had to focus hard to form them. Trust had never been easy for her.

"Which is?"

"It's about Headmaster Gregorovitch. He was a bit young to die, wasn't he? Only eighty?"

Vladimir Cherniak looked at her in silence, as he digested the unexpected question, his features betraying nothing. "He was, yes."

"What did he die of?"

"A heart attack."

"He never seemed to be the type. Choleric, I mean."

"There was an investigation of course. Poisonings and power-struggles are not uncommon here, as you know."

Secessa looked at the half-mended books laying on the desk in front of her, and Vladimir's wand, neatly put aside. Could she trust him? She opened the topmost book, and recognised it to be a book she had used in her third year.

"Apparently it was one of the elves that found him," she said off-handedly.

"Yes, I can't recall her name. She was very upset."

"She must have been barely coherent."

Secessa flicked through the book, while trying to think of an opening. "I'm surprised they still use this. Rather archaic, don't you think?"

"You still haven't asked your question."

The intensity of his gaze made her start slightly, and she put the book down, deciding to go straight to business. "I'm just wondering whether there's something about the staff situation here that I need to know. You've been here for a long time, and I thought maybe you could tell me if there are any tensions building to watch out for. Except for the apparent ones, of course."

Vladimir smiled thinly. "Afraid someone might sneak up on you in the corridors?"

"Are you implying there are other stalkers around?" she said mildly. "I though the spot was taken."

"I'd say the caretaker is a good second candidate."

There was a brief pause in which she eyed him curiously.

"I'll keep it in mind. Still, you say they seriously considered the Headmaster might have been murdered?"

"Yes. The matter was investigated, though, and the death proven to be of natural causes."

Secessa bit her lip. "So there's nothing for me to concern myself about, is that what you're saying?"

He hesitated, and for a moment it looked as if he was going to say something. Then he gave her a stony smile. "There are a lot of things to mind, but you've been here and you know how things work. Being apprenticed to Khuditski, you already know how to keep in his good books. And as for the new staff, you hardly need me to tell you not to bother Dolohov after hours."

She gave him a small smile back. "You heard about that poor fourth-year, then?"

"This is the library. It's where people come to whisper behind bookshelves."

His eyes glinted, and she was surprised. She had never considered that he might have a sense of humour.

"Well, is someone whispers that they're planning to curse me, please notify me by floo."

"Believe me, you're very unlikely to be on anybody's list." His tone was light, but his face was serious for a moment, only to then again become unreadable. "But I haven't offered you any tea. How very rude. Would you like some?"

She rose. "Maybe another day, thank you. It's nearly dinnertime."

"So it is."

"Thank you for your time."

"It was no trouble. Do come again."

"I will." She looked at him very seriously, and for a moment he was anxious that he had said too much, too soon. But then, she quickly looked down, and he reproached himself for being paranoid.

And as she exited the empty library, her footsteps fading away in the corridor, he wondered, perhaps, if it was not time to brush up on his social skills. He needed to know more about Karkaroff; right now, this girl was his best source of information, and he knew her fairly well already. And, she obviously needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust. It was time, in short, to stock up on tea.

*

A few minutes later, Secessa sat down at the desk in her quarters, and after a moment's consideration, she brought out her wand and tapped a quill laying in front of her. It expanded into the old, leather-bound book that had arrived earlier by underground elf post. She pulled out a pair of dragon-hide gloves from a desk drawer, and opened the book to the page she had bookmarked earlier. For a long time, she stared at the old writing describing the poison that mimicked heart attacks, and then she closed the book with a sigh.

"And I thought the how would be the difficult question," she muttered to herself, as she flicked her wand again, and then put the quill carefully back on its stand. "It seems I'll spend my time looking for the who."

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Author notes: "Your wolf still looks out of your eyes. You think that if you stand perfectly still, no one will see you." Robin Hobb, 'Fool's Fate'

Enjoyable or awful? This chapter was long in the making and rewritten twice, so please give me your thoughts. They will be much appreciated :-) !!!