Shadow over the Urals

Author's notes: As usual, thanks to Baghee from Perfect Imagination for the excellent editing, and for pruning out all those annoying little inconsistencies. You're the best! Also, thanks to Bjarka99 for the summary tip. I hope this summary will help you to keep track of things ;-) .

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Chapter Four - A Sudden Turn of Events

On the Monday after the staff meeting, the new term started. Students in red school-robes and fur capes arrived according to a set boat schedule throughout weekend, and were taken blindfolded from the dock to the school by the traditional flying sleds, pulled by Granians. The steady trickle of students brought a slowly increasing chatter volume to the corridors, and the teachers who had not yet fully retired to their quarters, except at mealtimes, did so now. The Main Staircase soon became a blur of red as students scurried up and down while the statues alongside the railings stood very erect, every now and then re-arranging their robes or hair, or telling the occasional first-year to get a move on.

For Elena's sensitive nerves, the slowly increasing stream of student was a torture slowly bringing her edginess to new heights. She was not at all comfortable in large crowds, and therefore she was the first one to put in an order for all meals to be taken to her rooms. Her tutor, Professor Linev, had given her a rough plan for the term, ample of recommended reading, and the responsibility for first-years up to fourth-years up until October, assisting Professor Linev in the more advanced classes during that time. At the start of that month, she was expected to take over the rest of the classes gradually, and hopefully Linev would pronounce her self-sufficient by Hallowe'en. With the old established course-plans as a guide, she should have felt fairly confident, but the quick glimpse of the unfriendly children she was to teach (a majority of which were boys fond of duelling), so different from the sweet youngsters at Beauxbatons, made her shudder with dark apprehension.

Elena's first class failed miserably. She was to teach the fourth-years directly after breakfast, and they simply had one look at her and then paid her no further attention whatsoever, however many times she exclaimed "Please be quiet...For Merlin's sake..." between her attempts to get a message out through the general clamour. Rumours of her ineptitude spread rapidly, and she was generally disregarded by her second class after lunch, after which she spent an hour being invisible in Professor Linev's sixth-year class. She groaned at his incompetence with Charms, but that was of little help to her own teaching problems. At the end of the day, her vocal chords were tensed up from being forced into new, shrill heights, and she was exhausted from the constant vigilance of trying to avoid being hexed in the back while walking the school corridors. She retired to her rooms, tired, and in tears.

Secessa fared a good deal better on her first day, much to her own astonishment. Although her students were according to tradition mostly boys and raucous as anything, the sensible ones quietened down once she had given them her first wintry smile. The braver students she gave detentions with caretaker Dolohov (who was more than happy to take them on for various cleaning duties), and she returned most average-level hexes and jinxes with a brief Whipping Hex. Her classes were silent after her first day.

Even though her teaching profession turned out a surprising success, Secessa was not happy. Her attempt to wriggle information and help out of librarian Vladimir Cherniak had turned out a pathetic failure, and she had to admit to herself that confidences required friendship. Therefore, her 'second profession' had to be put on hold as she started cultivating her friendship with said man over several cups of strong, black tea with lemon. Apprentice Ursus' constant jabs at her whenever they ran into each other in the corridors didn't improve her mood that week, and her notions of feeling inadequate intensified, which she dolefully compensated by pouring over the Dark Arts books Khuditski had given her "so that he need not be ashamed of her performance".

Had she not been so absorbed in herself, Secessa might have noticed Apprentice Professor Krotova's constantly tearful eyes and perhaps out of pity given her a teaching tip or two. Unfortunately for Elena, she did not, and Elena's first week turned out to be one of the worst in her life so far.

***

A few weeks into the term, Elena started faring a little bit better with her classes. Her tactic of calmly continuing her lessons under the protection of Silencing Charms worked to a certain degree - as long as she remembered to casually perform a bit of complicated wand-work every now and then, just to remind the students what they were missing out on if they chose to stare at the walls or send notes underneath their benches instead of listen. Nevertheless, she walked dejectedly to her classroom at the beginning of each day, and stayed until the last bell rang on the force of pure will alone. To add to her general suffering, her wand-arm was aching from the exercise of constantly charming people back into their seats, an activity that of course had become an enjoyable sport for the fourth-years to uphold during much silent class laughter.

However, class pranks stood back a little to Elena's relief when Quidditch training started. As the first game of the autumn approached, the three teams presenting the three dormitories, the Ironbellies (the 'Ukrainian' part of their dragon namesake had been removed to alleviate provincial tension), the Direwolves and the Hags (the stubborn and vicious girls' team), were endlessly discussed in and out of classes. The older students passed on hints in the corridors on how to keep warm in the severe winter cold that was soon to arrive, and avid fans repeatedly charmed tiny, growling team-crests onto corridor walls and furniture in the second floor study areas. Much more versed in protective magic than his predecessor, Mr. Dolohov had a knack for keeping graffiti at bay from the school's main spaces, however, and soon earned himself the nickname 'Pogy', after the annoying little Dark creature (a name which some of the older teachers picked up quickly and used in his absence with much delight). And so, Elena's classes became just about bearable as her students used them for planning how to circumvent the annoying caretaker, and she was able to continue teaching dolefully without fearing imminent collapse due to stress.

Unfortunately, there was no solace for the young French woman in the staff room. It was mostly populated by old, aloof men, with either enough troubles of their own (like Mirowski, who more than once had been publicly criticised by the new Headmaster for his lenient teaching methods), or with little patience for young people and their troubles (like Kohler, teacher of Potions and newly appointed - but not so busy - Deputy Headmaster). She had once timidly asked over her steaming teacup what one should do "about these troublesome boys" and received such incredulous looks that she dare not open her mouth again. The pitying look on Nurse Alruna's strong, stocky face soon chased Elena out of the room, to which she vowed never to return.

The literature used for the Durmstrang school syllabus was, of course, different from the literature at Beauxbatons since Russian authors wrote for the school. Hence, Elena spent all of her nights sitting either in her rooms or in a quiet corner in the staff section of the library, going through both the Charms books that her students used, and the literature she needed to read to keep up a comfortable buffer of knowledge between her students and herself. French being her primary language, her work went fairly slowly as she would often get stuck on the more unusual Russian words. It was, however, not dull work for her, and she found herself increasingly comfortable with her surroundings as long as she remained solitary, especially as her workplaces were two of the few warm rooms in the building (caretaker Dolohov had, actually, much to her outrage, removed the heating charm she had set on her classroom, claiming that it was bad for student morale).

Occasionally, Apprentice Professor Laburova would sit in the library as well, perusing the odd Dark Arts reference volume from the Restricted Section (a fair few of them were not allowed to be taken out by any but teachers and Seventh Years with special permission, which, Elena thought, reflected very badly on their content). The study used by the teachers was rather small, but the chairs were comfortable and the lighting was adequate, so Elena usually stayed until near midnight. Every now and then she would peer curiously at her solitary companion, who, in Elena's opinion, looked like a nasty piece of work, but not nearly as nasty as some.

The last evening before midterm, Elena almost picked up the courage to say hello to her companion when she arrived at her usual time. Elena's greeting glance was awarded with a wry smile, and she felt quite encouraged, as all staff but Professor Linev usually ignored her. Her spirits high, she finished her book quickly and with time left for a pleasant cup of rhubarb tea before bedtime. As she rose, she nodded at Apprentice Professor Laburova and received a nod in return. Very contented with the evening's progress, Elena exited the room with her book beneath her arm, quickly walked through the empty, semi-dark library, and pushed open the door to the dungeons.

It was late in the evening and all of the students were asleep in their locked dormitories. A few torches were still lit in the dungeons, their pale, blue light flickering on roughly hewn stone. Because the light was very dull, Elena did not discover the limp shape at the bottom of the stairs until she stumbled on it. Frowning, she drew out her wand and flicked it for some more light.

The Ancient Runes teacher lay sprawled at the bottom of the staircase, his eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. She instinctively stepped away from the pool of blood on the floor, her eyes transfixed by the old man's abdomen. Then she screamed, and her own voice echoed hollowly in her ears, as from a distance. The corridor walls became a shady, moving haze of bluish grey, and all she could see were the black-edged lacerations on his blood-drenched robes. Wrenching her gaze away, her eyes fell on his outstretched hand, still holding a wand dipped in blood. She staggered backwards, took in a few frantic breaths of the sickeningly sweet smell that clouded the body, and fell to the floor, unconscious.

***

"Ah, yes, Apprentice Professor Laburova. Please sit down. I'm Controller Rostislavich." The grey-haired, sharp-eyed Controller sitting behind the makeshift interrogation desk in the staff room indicated for her to sit down in the leather chair opposite. "Plenty of new staff, here, it seems."

"That is correct."

"And the place is as draughty as when I went to school here. I don't suppose you know if there's any firewood on the way?"

Having spent several weeks under Karkaroff's reign, she was sure said man was gathering all the staff firewood as fast as he could, and she tried to look generous for the sake of hospitality. "Very soon, I'm sure."

Mollified, he looked down briefly at the parchment in front of him. "So; Secessa Domitiovlevna Laburova. Beast Tamer student, but never graduated, only finished basic training."

"That is correct. It was deemed an unsuitable occupation for me."

He looked up. "'Your recommendation letter to the Headmaster says as much. If you could elaborate...?"

With a lurch in her stomach, she glanced at the parchment, recognised Ivan's handwriting and wondered what, exactly, he had written under the instruction of Controller Orlov. She dismissed the notion with a shrug and made her face blank, but she could feel her pulse rising. "The reason was not disclosed to me."

"Not to anyone else, it seems. Paranoid department, that." The Controller's sharp eyes crinkled conspiratorially, and Secessa exhaled slowly. There were some things she preferred people not to know about, especially during a murder investigation where the killing had been unusually ... vicious.

"I assume you have some questions for me?" she said with forced pleasantness (incidentally, it was a tone of voice that she had had a lot of practice procuring during her Thursday morning meetings with Karkaroff).

"As a matter of fact, I do." Controller Rostislavich looked at her searchingly, his grey eyes suddenly very piercing. She recognised the magic in his gaze, quickly summoned up a cloud of innocent thoughts, and met his eyes steadily.

"If you could please inform me of your whereabouts yesterday evening," the Controller continued, his face impassive, "I would be much obliged." He flicked his wand and a Quotes Quill at his desk snapped to attention above a blank piece of parchment.

Secessa made a point to look straight into his eyes as she spoke. "Yes, of course. Straight after dinner, which I had in the dining hall with most of the teachers, I went down to the library, and there was certainly no corpse on the stairs then. Apprentice Professor Elena Krotova can confirm my being in the library teacher's room reading for the entirety of the evening, and several students watched me enter, although naturally not exit, as the library closed before the time of the murder. Apprentice Professor Krotova would of course have noticed any wand-waving on my part, and I can assure you I did nothing of the kind."

The Controller's his mouth curled. "It's nice that at least two of you have something akin to alibis. I'll speak to her when she recovers. She's still in the hospital wing at the moment, and Professor Linev is watching over her."

Secessa winced, and Controller Rostislavich's eyes glinted shrewdly. "He seems rather proprietary inclined but then I suppose he and Librarian Cherniak had a rare opportunity to act cavaliers to a very pretty lady -- but wait, you're saying Master Cherniak was not in the library?"

"He tidied up after it closed and then told us to lock behind us if he wasn't back when we left. I believe he went to visit the groundskeeper on the second floor, to pick up the day's post. He must have then gone back to the library using the hidden staircase that emerges by the kitchens, because when I arrived at the body, he was bending over Apprentice Professor Krotova, on the library side of the corridor, if you get my meaning. Professor Linev came down the stairs from the Entrance Hall just seconds after I arrived."

The man's face was rapt with attention. "This is all very interesting," he said. "And the reason you went out into the corridor was...?"

"Elena screamed like a banshee, just shortly after she'd gathered her things and left. It must have been about ten thirty. I went out, of course, after collecting my things and my wand. I actually thought a spider had bitten her. There are some of them down here in the dungeons - they come out at night, and one or two of them are poisonous."

"And what did you see?"

"As I mentioned previously, Elena had fainted on the floor near the bloody corpse at the end of the corridor by the stairs, Vladimir was bending over her, and then the door at the top of the stairs opened, and Linev nearly stumbled down the steps in shock."

"Ah." The Controller made another small note on the parchment, and she worriedly tried to read it. She was sure he had written a word beginning with a 'V', but she quickly averted her eyes as he looked up and said, "Wand, please."

She handed it over reluctantly, and watched a series of ghostly images erupt from the tip of her wand, most of them looking nasty, but thankfully, the students being whipped, hexed and counter-hexed were very recognisable as the fourth-years in her last class of the previous day. "I did duelling practice in yesterday's last class," she told the Controller.

"Ah," he said, returned her wand, and added another few notes to the parchment. Secessa shifted on her chair. The he looked up again. "Anything else you would like to share with me?"

"Master Cherniak is a Manabilant," Secessa said firmly, not at all liking where the Controller's thoughts were heading. "He cannot perform any but the simplest magic without strict and time-consuming training."

Controller Rostislavich watched her impassively. "I see."

She tried not to glare at him.

"Now, just to confirm, the Unforgivables are still being taught at this school?"

"It's a nation-free zone, still, so, yes."

"Do you teach them?"

"Karkaroff does."

"Ah."

Secessa suddenly put two and two together. "You mean Professor Mirowski did those injuries to himself?"

The Controller looked up again. "It's a possibility."

There was a pause, and then the Controller put her statement aside with annoying calmness. "There is only one more thing. As you do not have Professor status and permanent residency yet, you do not have national immunity, and being Russian, you fall under our jurisdiction." He winked, drew out his wand, and said, "Legilimens."

Secessa recoiled from the unexpected onslaught, and, suddenly, vivid images from her recent weeks at Durmstrang flicked before her eyes. Out of control of her situation, she vaguely felt her hands clasping the armrests of her chair, and panic rose quickly within her as one vivid memory replaced the other in a kaleidoscope-like display of faces and conversations with the Durmstrang staff. When her second conversation with Vladimir drew close she desperately focused away from it in fear of being implicated for something or other, all her thoughts landing on their first talk, and, miraculously, the memory was ignored. Older memories, brief glimpses of her attending classes at the Beast Academy and then others of her as a young Durmstrang student sitting pouring over Ancient Runes books in the library, were quickly looked over and discarded. Then memories of her father emerged and again she frantically focused her thoughts on boring family dinners and beast-drilling sessions.

Suddenly, it was all over and Secessa found herself sprawled backwards in her chair in a very undignified position, her head pounding. The Controller looked at her with a genial face that she wanted to slap. She looked away from his all-knowing eyes uncomfortably and hated herself for it.

"Nothing circumspect, as expected," he said good-humouredly. "Apprentice Professor Ursus should be waiting in the corridor outside. Please tell him to step right in."

She nodded vaguely and rose, suppressing an urge to regurgitate. Almost overcome by a sudden urge to fly at the Controller's throat, she determinedly around, and walked hurriedly to the door.

If Secessa could have chosen whom to meet after that interrogatory meeting, it would definitely not have been Gregor Ursus. The mere sight of his crude features and creepy smile outside the door were intolerable to her, and she found herself focusing her eyes somewhere above his head. She hoped the Controller would be ruthless.

"He's waiting for you," she said shortly and walked briskly past him.

"Already weeping for you half-beast friend?" Ursus' voice slapped her in the back, and she stopped in her tracks and turned on the spot. He gave her an oily grin.

"I'm not sure I get your meaning," she replied coolly, cursing at the fact that her evening visits to the library seemed to be common knowledge. Or perhaps Ursus had been spying on her? She wouldn't put it past him.

"I suppose you can't know, can you?" he said, still smirking. "Our librarian has practised the Dark Arts in secret. I walked in on him one late night in the library and saw him practise some curses that he could not have performed without removing the Limiting Charm on his wand. His kind is not allowed to do that, as you well know."

She stared at him. "Do you mean to say that...?"

"He is most likely a potential killer. Which I intend to tell the Ministry right now. Perhaps you should be choosier about your teatime companions ..." Ursus picked one of his dirty nails elaborately.

Secessa realised she was gaping and closed her mouth. Then she turned and hurriedly walked down the corridor. She could hear his dry, derisive snort just as she turned the corner.

The same day, librarian Vladimir Cherniak was taken to the Ministry for further questioning and Secessa found herself sitting helpless in her dull quarters, alone with no one to talk to, and not one step closer to figuring out what was going on at the school.

Lessons continued as normal on the Monday as the murder was hushed up. Since the students had been counted and locked into their dormitories as usual on the late Saturday evening when the corpse was discovered, everything went smoothly. The old Professor had no relatives and the students were told he had died suddenly from a stroke, as the school could not afford to close and pay back the newly instated term fees. However, the students' movements were quietly put under stricter control through a number of new rules, one of which included marching between classrooms in lines lead by grumbling seventh-years.

Vladimir's disappearance was explained by the announcement that he was suspected of stealing books. Unfortunately, the library's locking wards were activated for the entirety of the day by Vladimir's absence, and student visits to the library had to be conducted in the evenings between six p.m. and ten p.m., leaving the teachers with two solitary access hours before the wards set in at midnight. But although several staff members were relieved by Vladimir's absence (although, of course, the unyielding old library wards annoyed them somewhat), Secessa had a horrible feeling that the murderer might still be at loose, and she wrote as much in her letter to the Ministry, one of many letters that received no response at all except for the occasional arrival of a new dispatch raven.

***

Three days after her interrogation, and after sceptically eating a non-substantial dinner stew containing meat of unrecognisable origin, Secessa went with heavy steps to her Wednesday night appointment. She had loathed her tedious work there right from the start, and with the details of the murder fresh in her mind she really didn't feel like spending the evening smelling rat blood.

As Secessa reached Professor Khuditski's third-floor office, she saw that the door had been left ajar for her benefit.

"Sorry I'm late," she muttered as she entered the dusty, warm room, inhaling its now very familiar smell of sweat and old charcoal with some difficulty. "The students keep insisting on landing themselves detentions and then I need to notify Dolohov each time..."

"No matter, girl. Do sit," wheezed Khuditski, already bent over his cluttered mahogany desk. He did not look up as she sat down on her usual chair opposite him and picked up her quill. The door behind her slammed shut, which stirred some more dust off old books in the old office bookshelves. A few cobwebs in the ceiling swung back and forth before they settled, gleaming in the light from the roaring fire that was Khuditski's special privilege. His study and quarters were the only warm ones on the second floor, where he stayed for the comparative silence and splendid view over the valley.

Gadko Khuditski was an old man, well past the hundred, but he had a wiry strength to him, and his cold, grey eyes were sharp. His appearance, however, was repugnant: he slightly resembled a warty old prune and his breath was notoriously bad. Secessa carefully breathed through her mouth as he began to drone.

"Trials one to eighteen of this the tenth of October were unsuccessful. A small quantity of fresh, human blood gave no success in either of the preparations or incantations. Rat trials continue." She kept an eye on the Quotes Quill's accuracy as he spoke and watched as he waved his wand over a rat. It burst open, its blood oozing over the table and Secessa swallowed. Khuditski muttered a few, inaudible words with little success.

"Trial nineteen, fresh blood of rat, incantation type A. Failed."

A flick of his wand and a book to his right flipped open. He quickly checked something and then muttered something again and flicked his wand.

"Trial twenty, fresh blood of rat, incantation type B. Failed."

The evening passed slowly, as always. Secessa often wondered what spell could possibly be so alluring that the old wizard would spend all his Wednesday nights endlessly and futilely sacrificing rats with different incantation experiments. But if Khuditski was chagrined over his failures, it didn't show - every Wednesday night he arrived with a long list of new experiment plans that must have taken all week to produce. His research was slow and relentless, and if he would ever make any progress, Secessa thought it would be well earned.

Some hours later, Khuditski called it a day with the words: "Clean, girl!"

Secessa rose silently with pursed lips, sorted her notes and put them in the appropriate leather-bound folder. If Khuditski ever decided to go through them, she thought, they would be ridiculously dull.

Sighing, she turned to the desk and withdrew her wand to begin her laborious task of cleaning away the pools of dried and semi-congealed blood (which she suspected was the real reason she was required to attend). Khuditski had left with the dead rats, and she could hear excited ferret-squeals from the adjoining room.

Surprisingly, Khuditski's spell-book still lay open on the table, and Secessa bent over it, curious. The pages were covered in strange runes, and underneath some of them Khuditski had scribbled what seemed to be translations, although there were not enough words there to make much sense. Apparently, there was something to do with 'spirits' and a 'gate'. In the middle of the page to the right, two runes were underlined, and underneath them it said, in Khuditski's hand, 'Kho-zad chhunt'.

Secessa stared at the scribble. It certainly was not an ordinary incantation; if it was real, it had to be ancient. Slowly, she rolled the words on her tongue. And then two things happened in quick succession. A green flame suddenly sprung alight in the pool of blood on Khuditski's desk, carrying with it an eerie cold. Strange whispers seemed to emanate from it. Secessa took several steps backwards, and then Khuditski burst into the room with surprising agility, carrying his wand in his right hand, while a dead rat was dangling by its tail from his left.

"You ..." he wheezed, eyeing the flame, his eyes wide. "What did you do?"

"I ... don't know," she replied. The whispers chilled her to the bone and she took another step backwards.

"Did you ... say something?"

"Kho-zad chhunt," she said, and the flame seethed like snake at her words.

"Impossible!" He looked at the flame, transfixed. Then, his eyes narrowed. "But then again ... perhaps not. The beasts ..." A slow smile formed on his lips.

Secessa stared at him with wide eyes, not quite comprehending, and then, with the speed of a boomslang he suddenly whirled his wand in a circular motion at her. Starting out of her paralysis, she reflexively produced a Shield Charm, but it was weak and his spell went straight through it, hitting her heart like a stabbing knife. She gasped with the pain, and her legs gave way.

*

As she came to, she found herself laying down, looking at a pair of worn-down black boots with silver clasps. "Very regrettable," Khuditski said from above, "but necessary. Get up." He stood back calmly. The rat was still hanging from his hand; she deduced that she could not have been unconscious for more than a few seconds.

The humiliation was intense, and she clenched her teeth. Her wand was still in her hand; that was how little he thought of her. "What did you do?" she asked tersely as she struggled to get up; her limbs felt odd and out of sync.

He moved towards the desk, his wand casually drifting away from her. "It's all in here," he said, motioning towards the book. "'The power of the blood'. Except I ... got it wrong. It's 'the power in the blood'. Yours. And now," he said as he placed the rat on the desk, "I can tap it. Oh, not to worry, girl," he continued as he saw her stricken face. "You will have to be in the same room as me for the channelling to work. I will not cause you ... inconvenience in the middle of classes." He gave her his customary, minimalist grin and she shuddered, utterly sickened, as she tried to regain her composure.

Calmly, he lifted his wand. "Now, let us try this," he whispered. He flicked his wand and Secessa felt a jolt in her body as her strength began to wane in response; she wavered where she stood and hurriedly stepped up to the chair for support unless she would faint again, gritting her teeth against the sudden onset of nausea. Khuditski waited calmly until a pale glow began to show around his wand, and then he started muttering words of the same strange language as before. Now, however, the whispers in the room closed in on him and suddenly the rat that lay on his desk started to twitch.

A pale light slithered out from the green flame and entered the rat lying between them. It slowly rose, fixing its eyes at Secessa. Its gaze suddenly went from dull red to heavy-lidded green. She gasped and it jumped at her with the rage of a demon. The sight snapped her mind out of its lethargy, and she quickly diverted its path with a harsh flick of her wand. The rat narrowly missed the chair, landed on the floor with a sickening crunch and rolled away. But instead of lying still, it quickly got up, turned to face her again, and then spurted across the floor against her on three legs, its last hind legs loosely flapping up and down behind it. She instinctively moved behind the chair, staring at it in horror with her wand out.

"Kzunt chedrov," said a wheezy voice, and the rat fell limply to the floor. The green light seeped out of it and dissipated. Khuditski went over and prodded it lightly with his foot while Secessa backed off.

"A slight drawback," he muttered, "but no matter. I shall have to work some more on the text." Turning to the flame, he extinguished it with a few words and a flick of his wand. "We have made great progress tonight, and we will continue next week. You may leave. I will take some notes and clean up. Quite enough excitement for you today, I think. And we must think of your rest and replenishment, must we not? But first, however, there is the matter of your silence ..."

Before she had time to reconsider what he had just said, he suddenly shot out his wand and tapped her mouth. As she jolted backwards, feeling defiled, she felt a brief tingle, which was gone within seconds. She searched his prune-like face for details but found no answer in the cold, shrewd eyes. The smell of tooth-decay enveloped her like a mist and she took first one step backward, and then two.

"I don't suppose you'd deign to tell me what that flame was?" she said shakily.

"I suppose there's no real reason for me to withhold it; you will find out soon enough anyhow. It was the Green Flame, the bridge between the worlds, brought to life again for the first time in hundreds of years."

"And what do you plan to do with it? Make dead rats go mad?"

"Why, study the secrets of death, of course. Today, for instance, we have learned that life cannot be brought back into a body easily - not that I expected the process to be unravelled with a brisk flick. My aim is to find out how it works, and master it. But I prefer the Headmaster not to interfere - naturally you would be very inclined to inform him of this event. I'm sure you understand. And if you do not, it does not matter much to me."

"And why did you need me to procure the flame?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "It's in your blood, and, connected with your amazing ability to link to beasts. It seems the difference between a beast and a corpse is not so great. I should have realised, of course."

She glared at him for a long time, not quite wanting to believe him, but realising he must be telling the truth, however horrific it may seem. Finally, summoning her last scraps of dignity, she walked quietly out of the room and slammed the door on his hoarse humming.

Her skin feeling like it was covered in invisible filth, she walked down the second-floor corridor in a haze, the image of the mad rat running through her head in some sort of insane dance. This research of Khuditski's went too far - if she did not try to stop it, who knew what might happen? The Dark Arts was a beastly and volatile branch of magic that often lashed back at the witch of wizard procuring it, and, considering her involvement, she was sure to be killed if this would continue. He would certainly not care about trying dangerous approaches, especially if the link he had connected between them went two ways and he could channel damage back to her. She seemed to remember him saying something like it when he had taught her about Channeling Curses in her seventh year. What should she do about it? What could she do?

And what was this second spell that Khuditski had cast on her? Would it prevent her from writing to the Ministry? But even if she managed to, how could they help? Could this be related to the poisoning of the former Headmaster? Did he perhaps not approve of Khuditski's dealings and got disposed of? But the only thing that was illegal at Durmstrang was the use of the Three outside the classroom, and the Ministry would not act on indicia alone. The only way to stop him would be to get the Headmaster to interfere, and that was exactly what he claimed to have prevented.

She clenched her wand harder, causing it to emit a small spark. A couple of seventh years in pristine blood-red robes that spoke money exited from the nearby Owlery and nodded gravely at her, their eyes glancing nervously at her wand as they steered clear of her path. Trying to gather some self-control, she gave them the expected dignified nod back and told them curtly to hurry along, as the dormitories would lock soon. They thanked her hurriedly, and, unable to face the solitude of her rooms, she walked past her door and continued onwards, forwards, down the corridor, and then the main staircase, feeling so tense she was sure something inside her would crack should she bump into anything.

She had trouble finding her way round these corridors of her youth, now that the few paintings had been taken down and the familiar old, ingenious wall graffiti from two centuries that previous headmasters had overlooked with a smile, had been all wiped away by Dolohov's efficient wand. Stone walls replaced stone walls, and her boots echoed emptily on stone floors, while her anger slowly diffused into despondency. Sometimes, she felt she could walk and walk without getting anywhere, just like she did every night in her dreams, endlessly searching for that place that once had been her home and so mysteriously had been wiped off the face of earth, leaving only a hard, stone shell containing only scattered bits of old furniture. Once, there had been chairs of carved, dark wood with leather seats in the study areas, small decorative brass urns on the mantelpieces, and a blazing fire in the Dining Hall, where noisy students had laughed raucously while downing generous helpings of pork chops and cabbage. It was all gone, and she doubted that place would ever return.

When Secessa stopped with a sigh to get her bearings, she found that her feet had led her to the plain wooden door labelled 'staff room' with tiny, gold letters. She did not usually go there if she was not summoned, but standing there, she suddenly felt a desperate urge to sit down amongst people and feel some sort of sense of normality, just to be sure the entire world had not gone completely mad. She opened the door.

The staff room, however, was empty, except for a person sitting silently by the fireplace, partly turned away from her and hidden in shadow. The room's gothic windows were like black chasms and the feeble flame did nothing to banish the darkness. The door behind her slammed shut with a bang. "I'm sorry," she said to whoever was sitting there meditating. "I'll just ..."

"Don't go, please!" The voice belonged to Apprentice Professor Elena Krotova, and when she turned her chair with a wand-flourish, Secessa saw deep circles underneath her eyes. "He's been looking for me all day. I didn't know where else to go."

Secessa took a hesitant step forwards, and at the same time the door opened behind her and she turned. Caretaker Dolohov stood in the doorway, his long pale face gleaming like a white mask in the dusk. His expression betrayed nothing as he quietly eyed first Elena, then Secessa. She returned his gaze firmly as he thoughtfully looked at her, his grey eyes thinning.

"We're busy," she said, mustering up courage from some unknown place.

"The staff room is for all," he replied. "I'd like a word with Apprentice Professor Krotova."

Normally, Secessa would have left there and then. There was a codex at Durmstrang of minding one's own business, and whatever dealings the caretaker had with Elena Krotova were none of her concern. However, she had had enough of bullying in one day, and Dolohov was a person she had decided to stand up against. Giving up to him would be the final step towards crumbling.

"Perhaps it can wait. We were just leaving," she said, while nodding at the much-surprised Krotova. She was not the sharpest of the lot, Secessa thought, and certainly not the strongest. Siding with Krotova would reflect badly back onto herself. But perhaps Apprentice Professor Krotova might help her to improve her Shield Charm? She suppressed a strangled laugh.

Dolohov gave her a measured look.

"Very well, I suppose it can," he said coldly, and stepped aside from the door.

Elena Krotova quickly picked up her woolly cloak and hurried towards the exit. Secessa waited until Krotova reached the corridor, gave Dolohov one last firm look, and then followed the young woman with even steps, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Outside, Krotova hesitated, but Secessa prodded her back. "To your quarters," she mumbled. "No stopping."

Surprisingly, Krotova's nimble steps were steady as she walked, and her hand only trembled ever so slightly when she a few minutes later opened the door to her quarters on the second floor. A flow of warm air greeted them. They entered the room in silence, their boots treading softly on the thick, beige carpet, and Elena Krotova immediately collapsed in a green armchair standing by a worn oak desk partly covered by an embroidered tablecloth.

She gestured towards a frilly green sofa, and Secessa sat down, her eyes briefly taking in the Charms Apprentice's quarters. Small, blue flowers had been charmed to grow on the stone walls, making the modest room feel out of sync with autumn, and the brown, embroidered bedspread on the plain bed had a rustic feel to it. The warmth seeped through Secessa's cloak and started trickling into her bones, and she was amazed at the strength of the heating charm; the rooms at Durmstrang were notorious for their unyielding chill.

"Thank you," Elena Krotova said quietly, while seemingly in a haze directing a table carrying a suddenly steaming teapot to settle between them. Equally distractedly, she pointed her wand at the table, and two cups and a vase appeared. A small flick of her wand, and she finally produced a bundle of fresh-smelling snowdrops. They hovered a while before settling in the vase, which filled up with water. "You got me out of a bundle. Would you like some tea?"

Secessa stared at her, the teapot and the flowers for some time. "You don't have the slightest idea, do you?" she then said dejectedly.

Elena started and looked up. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Secessa poured them both some tea. It smelled, absurdly, of rhubarb. "We've just announced an alliance. This is how it works here at Durmstrang. It's survival, really. I had hoped to avoid a public one, as it tends to get people into trouble eventually."

Elena looked stricken, and there was a pause before she spoke. "I'm so sorry if I inconvenienced you, I really had no idea. It's all very new to me here, you know."

An ominous silence ensued. In the end, feeling sorry for the flustered girl, Secessa tried to put on a cheery face.

"Not to worry, we'll just take it as it comes," she said. "It's not all that bad. As I'm in Headmaster Karkaroff's good books you might gain something from it. Not the most even deal, but there you go. Perhaps we can think of some use for you. For me, I mean." Secessa blearily leaned backwards and produced a bland smile for Elena. What had she gotten herself into, she thought despondently, and what would she do with this Elena Krotova?

There was another minute of quiet, during which Elena delicately sipped on her tea, wearing a closed expression. "I don't think it's very fair, you know, the way Charms teachers are treated here. I can appreciate that the subject has not been taught well for a long time at the school, but I really don't understand why everybody needs to treat me like dirt."

Secessa stared at her. "But surely you can't expect more when you're afraid of your own shadow?"

"I don't see what that's got to do with anything."

"It's got everything to do with it! How do you expect to teach when you are full of fear? No one will respect you until you get rid of it!"

Suddenly, a small tear escaped Elena's left eye, and she wiped it away hastily. "What if I can't?"

Secessa could not believe she was sitting having rhubarb tea with a crying, raven-haired Miss Fragile, and searched her mind for something to divert her attention. Unfortunately, all her mind kept going back to was green flames and insane rats, encouraged by an annoying throbbing on her chest where Khuditski had cursed her with the Channeling Curse. The whole situation was absurd.

"What did Dolohov want with you anyway?" she finally asked, trying to shrug the images away. When she got to her rooms, she decided, she would try to write to the Ministry. It was all she could do. If she knew Khuditski as well as she thought, he would have prevented her from communicating anything at all to Karkaroff during tomorrow's meeting.

"Oh, nothing," Elena replied, but Secessa looked at her steadily until she shifted in her chair. "Well, he's just been obsessing about that murder and he keeps on asking what I saw." She shuddered. "It's like he knows I'm hiding something."

Secessa made herself smile patiently. "And you are?"

Elena hesitated. "You really trust this librarian, don't you?"

Secessa's smile died down. "Yes, I do. I just find it very unlikely that he should be involved in the murder. I've gotten to know him fairly well these past few weeks, and from what I know of his character, the thought of him committing murder just feels absurd." She picked up her teacup, took a sip, and hid a grimace at the odd taste sensation. "Besides, what could he possibly gain from killing someone outside his own door? After all, this is his only home, due to his affliction, and he would never risk being alienated. He has nowhere to go."

"So, is it some sort of disease that he has? The Controller mentioned a name, but I've forgotten."

Secessa sighed and put her cup back. "He's a Manabilant. The result of many generations of inbreeding within the old, pure-blooded Russian wizarding families. The disease leads to 'leaky magic', meaning that the child cannot contain his magic. Instead, it seeps out into his body, wreaking havoc. The result is usually quite visible. They learn to control it eventually, of course, but they have to carry Limiting Charms on their wands. Vladimir's been lucky his family sorted out his position here for him. Most Manabilants have a hard time finding employment."

"He must be very dangerous!" Elena said nervously.

"Must he? If you kept a rabid dog for a pet, would you let it out for walks? I have never even once seen him lose control of his temper even, and I studied here for seven years. He's an exceptionally calm person who likes his tea and his books."

"Are you certain of this?" Elena said. "After all, he was taken away ..."

Secessa stared at her. For a moment, she had forgotten. "Vladimir's been a librarian here for forty years," she then said. "Why start killing now?" Her traitorous mind spun back to her conversation with Ursus, but she shrugged it away.

Elena looked at her in silence for a long time. Then she quietly lifted her wand and drew a fiery, squiggly 't' in the air.

"Professor Mirowski drew this on the floor in his own blood. Some rune, I don't know what it is and I'm not sure I want to know. I saw it before I fainted, but when I awoke it was gone. It must have meant something important. And the only one who had the chance to remove it without any witnesses was the one who arrived at the scene first - the Controller told me it was Mr. Cherniak."

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Notes: I got the idea of a Whipping Hex from the spell Snape used on Harry at the end of HBP.

Oh, and if you liked the chapter, please tell me so! I appreciate every review I get :-) .