Beyond Hogwarts -Chapter Eleven

-=Beyond Hogwarts; Chapter Eleven=-

James dropped his head into his hands, clenching handfuls of his hair in his fists. Sirius, after a glance at him, put a finger under Lily’s chin, making her look at him.
   “You’re all right—he didn’t hurt you?”
   “He couldn’t have,” she said mildly. “He didn’t know what he was doing, but he wouldn’t have hurt me.”
   “’Course not,” Sirius said skeptically. Then, turning to James, he put a hand underneath his arm, making his friend stand up.
   “Do I have to make you two sleep in separate beds, or will you try to strangle her?”
   James smiled sheepishly. “Padfoot, I’m sorry. I lost it…it was just the thought of—“ His face contracted, and, hoping to prevent another fiasco, Sirius pushed him towards the bathroom.
   “Wash your face, brush your teeth, put pajamas on, and go to bed. You need the rest. Lily, where do you keep nightclothes?”
   “In the dresser,” she replied, voice a bit shaky. “I’ll get them.” Lily flew to the ornate piece of furniture and drew out a pair of long, grey pajamas, draping them over James’ arm.
   “Go get undressed. You’ve—you’ve got an important day tomorrow—you’d better get dressed.”
   By the time she and Sirius had deposited her husband under a heap of blankets, she was ready to sink to her knees from exhaustion, though the best she could do was limply hug her friend.
   “Sirius…”
   “Shh.” He kissed the top of her head, then stood back at arm’s length, looking at her pale countenance. “Lily, you sure you can do this?”
   “Positive,” she sighed. “Though I daresay I’d rather James had nothing against my working.”
   “I would, too,” Sirius said grimly. “It would make things a lot easier.
   It was easier to point a white nightgown on Lily and to hand her a piece of ribbon to tie her hair back than it had been to push James into his nightclothes, and she fell onto the bed willingly, closing her eyes almost before she hit the mattress.
   Gently, Sirius pulled a bark-coloured afghan over her shoulders; he picked a chair up and set it down next to her, touching a white hand wistfully. He sat next to the sleeping couple for a long time, till Lily sighed in her sleep and pulled her hand out of his grasp, upon which he gave a short grimace and Disapparated.
   The next morning, things went smoothly—Lily saw James off to the Ministry early before magically packing her trunk and slipping into a pair of dark green robes. She arrived at the training hall for women just as Arabella poked her head outside the door, looking for her.
   “Oh, there you are!” the lady laughed. “We’ve been looking for you. Come on inside—we’ve got to get you ready."
   Tentatively, Lily followed Arabella into a room they reached by pulling aside the bread-box. They entered a small chamber, where two other ladies were waiting for her.
   “These are our disguise artists,” Arabella said, waving her hand at the two, one dark and Spanish-looking, the other small, with pale flaxen hair. “Sit down—they’ll have you ready in no time.”
   When Lily held up a mirror to her face forty-five minutes later, she caught herself in the act of whisking around to see who was being reflected in the glass instead of herself. She couldn’t for the life of her recognize herself, and she admitted to herself that if James recognized her, he must have unusually sharp eyes.
   Brown hair fell to her shoulders, straight as a blade of grass; large hazel eyes blinked curiously back at her from in between light eyelashes. Her skin was more brown, and the tips of her ears were rounded now; her bottom lip was darker and a millimeter thicker, but her pale elf-like look had vanished. She looked shy and submissive, and her eyes were almost incapable of anything but a mild, sheeplike stare. She was shorter, too; five feet and one inch pronounced the pinnacle to which she reached.
   “Absolutely wonderful,” Arabella pronounced. “You look very different. Couldn’t for the life of me have done any better. Come on—I’ve got to get you to Merriwether.”
   Mr. Merriwether was standing at his desk, speaking with a rather handsome man—dark brown hair and a small moustache, brown eyes. Tall, too—he towered over her by at least a foot. She found herself smiling at him as she nodded to her superior.
   “Ah, yes. We have been waiting for you,” Mr. Merriwether nodded. “Now. May I introduce you to your colleague—from now on Mr. Theodore Blunt. You will be traveling to Durmstrang with him.”
   Lily almost started. James It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. Almost every sign she associated with her husband was gone, and she smiled to think that he didn’t suspect anything about her.
   “I—er—pleased to meet you, Mr. Blunt.”
   He bowed to her from the waist, and Lily had to bite back a grin as she recognized the movement he made often when he was in a gallant or sarcastic mood.
   “Miss von Berlepsch, I presume?”
   Lily didn’t start at the pseudonym; she had trained herself to recognise it. Contenting herself with another nod, she picked up her trunk, fiddling with a tag on it.
   They were whisked to the school by Portkey; James—Mr. Blunt—was supposedly arriving later than he had intended, as he was bringing her to school, to account for their arriving together. With a bump, both of them landed just outside a large sandstone wall.
   Lily—Franziska looked up at it, wonder in her eyes. “This is Durmstrang?”
   “The walls enclosing the grounds,” her companion informed her. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”
   He pushed an iron gate open and stepped back to let her inside, and Franziska clutched her arms over her chest in awe as she looked up at the castle.
   It wasn’t as large as Hogwarts, she could tell, though she was still far away from it; the grounds were so large. It was made of lighter stone, and frozen icicles hung from every windowsill and tower naturally, not influenced by magic. A layer of snow was frozen so stiff that she could step on it and not sink through; when she bent down to touch it, her fingers couldn’t make a dent in the mass of white.
   “We’d better be going in,” Mr. Blunt reminded you. “You ready?”
   “”Ye-es,” she smiled timidly, “yes. Ready.”
   “Good.” He took the lead, walking quickly across the grounds. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll be close to a fire.”
   Nothing had dulled his common sense, Lily grinned. Forcing herself back into the character of Franziska von Berlepsch, she hurried to catch up with him, clutching her robes tightly around her.
   Franziska and Mr. Blunt hurried inside, where they were welcomed in an entrance hall taller than that at Hogwarts, but not as large, by a drift of warm air and a tutting, elderly witch, wrapped up in blue robes and a long cloak. Franziska set her trunk down with a sigh of relief.
   “Good morning to you! I daresay you’ll be Professor Blunt? I’m Professor Mink—how wonderful to welcome you…how very nice. And you, dear—“ she turned to Franziska—“you’ll be Miss von Berlepsch, then? Welcome, welcome…oh, we’re so pleased to have you both. But listen to me, chattering on when I’m sure you’re almost frozen. I’ll have you at the Headmaster’s office in no time.” Cheerfully, she whisked off in front of them, leading the party into a maze of corridors.
   They stopped in front of a painting of a glacier, and Professor Mink cleared her throat.
   “Nova Scotia.”
   A small figure appeared from behind a clump of frozen reeds in the picture and started pushing on the glacier, which slipped aside to form a door large enough for the visitors to walk through.
   Inside, Lily’s quick eyes took in a long, cornsilk-coloured couch, a roaring fireplace, two chairs, and several stuffed animal heads before they rested on a door bearing a gold plate marked Headmaster Karkaroff.”
   Karkaroff. The name rang a bell somewhere, but Lily couldn’t for the moment remember where she’d heard it.
   Following a waved instruction from Professor Mink, Franziska and Mr. Blunt sank onto a chair and the couch, respectively, only to jump to their feet again when the headmaster’s door opened.
   The figure that emerged was thin, with a brown goatee showing faint signs of grey. His eyebrows were bushy, looming above darting brown eyes, and his hands were clasping a golden watch.
   “Ah, our new teacher—and student,” he bowed. “Welcome—it is a pleasure to have you here, I assure you. Now, Mr. Blunt—you have your particulars, do you not?”
   Mr. Blunt inclined his head. “Yes, sir. You wrote me yourself.”
   “Just so,” Professor Karkaroff nodded. “Professor Mink, if you will show Professor Blunt to his new office, I will deal with Miss von Berlepsch.”
   The girl watched her protector being led out of the room, but snapped back to attention when Professor Karkaroff coughed loudly.
   “I am sure you will find your schooling year here most enjoyable, Miss von Berlepsch. We have provided you with one of the seventh year dormitories, and we will give you your schedule in the morning. You have all your books?” he asked quizzically.
   Franziska shook her head. “I—I didn’t manage to find A Specialized Guide to the Dark Arts, sir—I’m sorry—“
   “No need.” He cut her off. “We were not expecting you to, to be honest. That particular book teaches all sorts of arts never taught in the usual schools; but you are going to be provided with it in your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”
   Professor Karkaroff turned towards the window, and Lily repressed a start. Now she knew where she’d seen his outline—several years ago, in the Alendoren Cove—Tom was burning the Dark Mark into his arm. Karkaroff!
   The dormitory Franziska was boarding in wasn’t what she was used to—it had no four-posters; four bunk beds had dark red curtains drawn around them. Several other trunks were lined up against the walls, and hers was among them—house-elves, she presumed correctly.
   This school wasn’t divided as Hogwarts was; the students were separated according to their year: there were two dormitory towers and a common room for the first years, the same for the second years, and all the way up to seventh years. There were no suits of armour in the halls, but there was a supply of ghosts to make up for that; Franziska had accidentally walked through the spirit of a lady with a tiara among her long, curled hair. The common room was smaller than the ones at Hogwarts, but it sported three fireplaces instead of one. It had no specialized colors; blue armchairs, black stools, green sofas, and red poufs were dotted everywhere, comfortable carpets lined the floor, and torches were suspended from the walls.
   Franziska kept to herself the rest of that afternoon and evening, sitting in the bunk that had been pointed out to her with a book. She was still in mourning over her parents, and the brown hair was pulled back with a black ribbon in honor of them.
   She heard several chattering girls enter the dormitory, talking about the ‘new girl’ that had been announced to them. Carefully, she kept out of sight till night fell and the girls slipped underneath their covers, upon which she buried her head in her pillow and started to cry artfully.
   It was intentional that she hadn’t waited until she knew that the others were asleep, and within moments, a black and a blond head pushed the curtains around her bunk aside. Franziska sat up quickly, wiping the water from her eyes.
   “Are you the new girl?” the black-haired one asked. Franziska nodded, hugging her knees to her chest.
   “Why were you crying?” the other one inquired, putting a hand on her shoulder. Franziska hesitated a moment, but then she spilled the story of her parents’ demise to them, punctuated with running tears.
   After that night, she had two friends, ones that liked her well enough and trusted her. They helped her dress the next morning in the traditional scarlet robes lined with fur, brought her down to breakfast, and gladly showed her to her classes. The girl with two blond braids carried the name of Bella Tretter; the more lively, black-haired one was Sophia Krug. They were inclined to laugh quite a lot, loved Quidditch with the true enthusiasm of the wizarding world, and each had a cat.
   Lily found it rather amusing that her first class was with ‘Professor Blunt’, but, shelving herself back into Franziska, she entered the classroom and took her seat, head bowed and eyes fixed on her knotted hands.
   Professor Blunt cleared his throat; rapping on the desk with his knuckles, he quieted the class down instantly.
   “Welcome to this classroom. My name is Professor Theodore Blunt, and I will be your Transfiguration teacher. First of all: I will have absolutely no playing around in my classroom. Transfiguration is a serious matter, and I will not have you injuring yourself or anyone else by carelessness. Homework is under no circumstances to be turned in late, and my tests are to be studied for. Questions?”
   There was no sound in the classroom.
   “Excellent,” Professor Blunt said, clapping his hands and picking up his wand. “Shall we get started, then?”
   He was a very good teacher, Lily admitted, and probably as strict as Professor McGonagall. The first task he set them to was seeing how much they already knew, and for that, he picked students to come to the front, firing tasks at them, such as conjuring a dictionary into a baby dragon, or transfiguring a table into a black cat. Not many of the students were up to everything he asked them to do, and Lily accidentally performed four of the pieces of Transfiguration before she remembered that she was supposed to be an average student. Nervously, she caught Professor Blunt eyeing her, and she collided with a chair and sent herself and a cage of mice sprawling as a result of it.
   There were quite a few laughs and some squeals from the rest of the students, but Professor Blunt sent a cymbal slam into the air from his wand.
   “I will tolerate absolutely no ridicule in this classroom. Miss von Berlepsch,--“ The bell rang, and, relieved, Franziska started picking herself up.
   “Miss von Berlepsch, stay behind, please. I insist that you clean up your accident.”
   Sighing, Franziska dropped to her knees, picking up cedar shavings and catching the tails of mice in her fingers. When Professor Blunt closed the door behind the last student, he quickly stalked over to her, pulling her up to face him.
   “Sir?” she quavered.
   “I could have sworn I told you you weren’t to accept or look for a job of any kind.”
   Lily bit her lip. This was sooner than she had dreaded. “Er…”
   “You’ll be heading back to England as soon as I can manage it. In the meantime, clean up those mice.” Turning his back to her, he started to riffle through papers on his desk.
   “No.” The answer rang around the room clearly, and he spun around.
   “Excuse me?” James spluttered.
   “No. You don’t own me, I’m not your property, and I’ve no intention of obeying. Besides, I can’t pull out now. There’s no excuse for me to.”
   “I’ll find one,” James said sternly. “I don’t want you getting yourself killed.”
   Lily smiled half-heartedly. Putting out a small hand, she pushed a bit of brown hair out of his eyes.
   “James, I don’t want you dying, either. It’s not exactly fair for you to put me at home where I can’t watch over you, is it?”
   His shoulders slumped, and she knew she had won. “Besides, I want some fun, too. Even though I’m married, I don’t have to conform to the domestic housewife, do I?”
   James sighed. “All right. I give. Stay here…but do try to get in trouble, all right? I can’t keep calling you to my office to report on what you know without a good reason. Get your friends to draw you out, and let me give you some detentions.”
   Lily smiled. “Will do, Professor Blunt.”
   He returned the expression. “You know, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was told that you were an average student and that you overexcelled yourself in my classroom, I would have sworn that you were really Franziska von Berlepsch.”
   “Really?”
   “Absolutely. I hardly recognize my little elf-nymph anymore,” he grinned. “But go along. I’ll clean up the mice—you get to your next class. Do you need an excuse?”
   The bell rang shrilly, and Lily picked up her books, smiling. “Now I do.”
   He quickly penned a short note on a piece of parchment and handed it to her, kissing her forehead. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. “Nothing’ll really be the same without you.”
   “Oh, you’ll see me in class,” she laughed. “You’re a wonderful teacher, by the way.”
   He almost blushed. “Er—thank you.”
   “I’d better go, then,” she replied. “I’ll see you around.”
   James nodded. “Yeah…I guess. I’ll see Franziska around, that is.”
   “Good day, Mr. Blunt,” Franziska curtsied. “I will see you at lunch, then.”
   Without giving him time to respond, she whisked out of the room leaving him to shake his head, grinning, at his wife. He’d never have guessed it if he didn’t know how smart she was. But she was brilliant…
   It was a good thing he didn’t have a class that period, for he absently transfigured the mouse-cage into a large potted plant instead of restoring it to its original state. A Transfiguration teacher that messed up simple charms wasn’t at all what students expected to see.
   Franziska and Mr. Blunt did not see much of each other, besides during classes and at meals. The first detention she managed to receive, however, was a week later, after she was caught in the library after the curfew by the caretaker, who immediately dragged her off to the nearest teacher’s office, which, incidentally, was Professor Theodore Blunt’s.
   With an unrepressable twinkle in his eyes, she was informed by him that she was to scrub down his office walls without magic the next evening, and the caretaker, Mr. Thorns, went back to his work with a satisfied grin on his face. He was about as friendly as his name, Lily thought, annoyed at the smirk, and much more unsightly.
   Sophia and Bella grumbled pages over Mr. Thorns and Professor Blunt, but they promised to storm Professor Blunt’s office if she was inside for longer than two hours, for, as Sophia darkly said, “he’ll try to make you scrub down that place with a toothbrush, if he’s anything like what he looks like.”
   “Handsome, you mean?” Bella giggled.
   Sophia snorted. “I mean no such thing. Well, he is, but that’s not what I meant.”
   Lily grinned to herself. Her husband was handsome, no use denying it, and especially so now.
   Franziska nervously stepped inside Professor Blunt’s office, and, after she entered and shut the door behind her, looked up at the teacher in front of her.
   He quickly surrounded them with a Silencing Charm, then moved quickly over to her, clasping her shoulders.
   “You found out something?”
   Lily nodded. “How could you tell?”
   He grinned. “You wouldn’t have made sure you got a detention with me otherwise.” But his smile vanished, replaced with a frown. “What is it?”
   “It’s Karkaroff,” Lily said quickly, almost tripping over her words. “I saw him—in the Alendoren Cove, with Tom—Tom had just initiated him. I know him.”
   James frowned, tugging at his hair. “You’re sure?”
   “Definitely.”
   “That makes our job a bit easier. And harder, too, come to that.” He looked back at her. “Any proof? What’s the initiation ceremony, by the way?”
   “He burns his Mark into their left forearms, just below their shoulder, and makes them swear allegiance to him. It’s terribly painful—I know Karkaroff screamed bloody quiche.”
   “That’s that, then,” James settled. “We’ll be out of here in no time. I’ll owl Sikora, and then—“
   “No.” Lily put a hand on his wrist. “You’re forgetting one thing.”
   “What’s that?”
   “We’ve got to have proof that he’s the one influencing the students. Otherwise we’d be arresting a perfectly harmless Death Eater.”
   “That was an absolute contradiction, but I’ll let it pass,” James frowned. “Any ideas?”
   “Ideas?” Lily blinked at him innocently. “Me, have ideas?”
   James pushed her into a chair. “Spill.”
   “All I’ve got to do is find out which students are thinking about joining Tom—and I find myself uncontrollably drawn into their midst. Simple.”
   “Yeah, simple,” James snorted, “and risk you being confronted with an Unforgivable. All right, I suppose, but it’ll take forever and a few hundred detentions and lots of quarrels with Ministry associated people to gain their confidence. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
   “Oh, I know, all right,” Lily laughed. “It’s not as exciting as I would have hoped for, but it’s something. Now, do I really have to scrub down this dungeon of an office or not?”
   Within the space of a fortnight, Durmstrang became like a second home to Franziska. She quickly learned the whereabouts of her classes and the ends of the twisting corridors, which statues threw axes at you and which foods to avoid at lunch (the applesauce and fried potatoes—the first time she tasted them, she could have sworn they had been steamed with gasoline). She didn’t study much; her grades were about average, and she could mostly be found exploring Durmstrang, poking into classrooms and offices.
   Sophia and Bella had managed to draw her out of her shell, which she shed freely after a few days, though she was still shy around anyone but them, especially boys. There was one that was obviously interested in her; a black-haired boy with a beaked nose and friendly smile; Sebastian Krum, something James was both amused and annoyed to notice.
   But after three weeks of poking around and getting into heated arguments with Mr. Merriwether’s second cousin’s daughter and best friends, going so far as to pull out her wand and start cursing her, a particular group of seventh years still clammed up whenever she got near them and stopped their conversation, and she had nothing new to report to ‘Mr. Blunt’.
   However, one Saturday afternoon, she was walking past a bookshelf in the library, when she heard muffled whispers. Crouching down quickly on the floor, she crawled towards the noises.
   “I don’t know when we’ll get there. I know they’d give a good deal to prevent us going.” A shrill giggle sounded through the books and pierced the eavesdropper’s ear badly.
   “Ssh! Remember, we can’t let anyone know! Imagine!”
   “I know. I’ve no idea what they’d do to us. And to him!” Lily snatched her ears. There were only two girls, but they were part of that group that shut up quickly around her.
   “Probably let us off with being brainwashed, I suppose. But he’d be--"
   “Why, they’d—“
   Lily was interested now; mightily interested, and she had a feeling she might be onto something. If only they mentioned some particulars and a name, for crying out loud—
   “Remember how many detentions they wanted to give Elva for sneaking out to mean Claude?”
   “But they let her off in the end with two, because she supposedly didn’t know what she was getting into. After all, he was twenty years old.”
   Disgruntled, Lily stood back up. This was not the kind of conversation important to either humanity or to the Ministry, and from either viewpoint, the subject matter could go hang.
   One afternoon, Franziska was meandering along the grounds, which were mostly devoid of snow by this time. The sun was melting the ice into large puddles, and it was all she could do to keep her feet mostly dry and her figure vertical.
   With a grunt, she slipped on a bit of mud and went sliding forward, landing on her stomach with her nose shoved brutally into a bank of watery ice. Shaking herself all over, she tried to stand up.
   A hand fell on her arm, with a friendly “Here, let me help you.”
   Franziska looked up into the face of Sebastian Krum, eager to lend a hand.
   Not about to despise a bit of help, she accepted his arm and other shoulder, heaving herself up with a most undignified grunt. Panting, she leaned on him.
   “Thank…you. I needed that help.”
   “No problem.” He blushed and looked down, and Franziska smiled nervously at him.
   “Well—I’ll go inside, then, I suppose. See you later…”
   “No—wait!”
   “What?” She whirled around to see Sebastian holding a broom out to her—a Myriad Centennial.
   “Want to go for a ride?” he flushed. “I thought it might be better than falling in the mud.
   Franziska bowed her head shyly. “I—er—I don’t know…”
   “Oh, come on, it’s no problem!” Her shyness was unconsciously boosting his self-esteem, and he nudged her. “Let me at least take you back to the castle.”
   “Er—all right, then, I suppose. Yes—thank you.”
   A few minutes later, Professor Blunt could be found correcting test papers in his office, when he heard sounds of laughter outside. Curious and in the mood for a diversion, he looked up. Then, recognizing the two figures on a broomstick, his eyebrows knotted.
   His first impulse was to throw open his office window and yell at them, but then he thankfully remembered that he had absolutely no claim on Franziska von Berlepsch, and that at the moment Lily Evans-Potter had vanished into thin air. Grumbling, he flung himself back into his chair, staring at but not seeing a first-year’s disaster of a test.
   Sebastian Krum was nice, Lily reflected as he let her dismount, but he hadn’t anything in him that she admired—no real sense of humor, probably not a good head in sticky situations, not especially smart, no false or honest gallantry, not much bravery, and hardly any visible emotions.
   Bitterly, she thought of her third year of Hogwarts and of James—she doubted strongly that Sebastian was capable of anger or spite like that. Franziska would like Sebastian, she knew, mostly because of his lack of those qualities, but Lily had her reserves about things like that. Especially since she was married.
   Still, she assented grudgingly, Franziska would eagerly accept Sebastian; she couldn’t help it—it was in her character.
   “I suppose I’ll make the best of this,” she thought. “At least it’s better than listening to gossiping girls in the library. That is, I hope it is.”
   She hoped that he had at least some connection to the students she suspected Karkaroff was influencing, for if he didn’t, then this would become interesting.
   “At least,” she sighed after she said goodbye to him in front of her dormitory tower’s stairs, “at least he can fly well.”
   That evening at supper, Franziska gratefully accepted a seat next to Sebastian, smiling somewhat nervously and flushing faintly. Sophia wiggled her eyebrows at that, grinning, and poked Bella in the side, who whispered in her ear, “I told you so!”
   Franziska artfully ignored that, pinning her attention to the white plate in front of her, noticing for the three hundredth time the absence of the gold glitter of the Hogwarts dinnerware. However, her eyes were riveted upwards again, as Sebastian started talking about the last Quidditch World Cup.
   She wasn’t watching Professor Blunt, who was stonily staring at her, not trying to hide anything of what he might be thinking. Some of the other teachers, Professor Mink especially, were staring at him curiously, and didn’t find a reason to stop when he started bludgeoning a piece of steak with his spoon.
   He said nothing about it when Franziska reported to his office to ‘discuss an essay she had written’; he merely asked shortly if she had found anything new, and upon her denial, their conversation was short and ended quickly.
   That night, while lying quietly in bed with the curtains drawn, Lily was reflecting on James’ behavior, but she couldn’t think of anything that might have made him terribly angry—who knew, maybe the Ministry had decided that he hadn’t done a good enough job and intended to remove him—or—or…Her eyelids started to droop, and she was asleep before another thought reached her mind.
   James, on his part, was doing some investigating of his own; he had taken to haunting Durmstrang after dark in his Invisibility Cloak, which he had made sure to pack. He had seen nothing and heard less than he had seen; though he had accidentally stumbled into a meeting of the thirty-one school ghosts, who were holding an assembly in the Astronomy classroom. There were several notes that were passed in his class that students had left behind, but upon reading, they only were silly things concerning love lives and others reading “what did we have for homework in Defense Against the Dark Arts again?”
   Franziska was spending more and more time with Sebastian, especially since she had learned that several of Sebastian’s friends had an ‘interesting Uncle Mort’, about whom they only talked in whispers. She had tried to find out more, but Sebastian had only called her nosy laughingly and changed the subject.
   “You know,” Lily thought, in the confines of her bunk two months after she and James had arrived at Durmstrang, “I think it’s time to go to more desperate measures.”
   Several evenings after that, Professor Blunt was storming moodily down the corridor, a black cloak billowing out behind him and an admittedly pathetic attempt at a report written by a sixth year. He rounded a corner, narrowly missing sending a painting crashing to the ground, when he collided sharply with a dark movable mass in the hallway. It felt like it had bones that could be broken by a force in it, so Professor Blunt whirled towards them.
   It was a sight not so uncommon to be seen; a boy and a girl, kissing in a somewhat abandoned hallway, but for some reason unknown to most, Professor Blunt froze in his tracks.
   He recognized them, of course, At least, the girl. He couldn’t help but recognize her.
   She disentangled herself quickly. “Oh—er—Professor Blunt…” Nervously, she rearranged her hair, which had gotten somewhat shoved out of place.
   He could hardly move. The rather uncomfortable Lily wishing she was still on her honeymoon was currently trying to squash herself back inside Franziska, but she would have done anything to explain herself—though, as it was, Professor Blunt didn’t give her time to.
   “Miss von Berlepsch, if you wouldn’t mind keeping your love life out of the corridors, I would be much obliged,” he snarled, turning his back on them and vanishing down the corridor with a swerve of his cloak.
   Lily couldn’t sleep that night. She didn’t dare to toss and turn underneath the covers, for fear someone else in her dormitory would notice that she wasn’t asleep, but she bit her lips nearly bloody in thinking of that evening.
   What had she been thinking? She could have found out anything she wanted from Sebastian and she wouldn’t have had to be so dramatic in its undertaking. And Professor Blunt’s face…she recognized James’ characteristic jealous glare—one impressed even more on her memory because of its appearance on a face most unlike her husband’s.
   “If James wants to divorce me now,” Lily thought dully, “I wouldn’t blame him.”
   Despondently, she took refuge early next morning in the common room, hugging her chest to her knees and staring into the fireplace, the flames continually and annoyingly forming mocking images of the scene last night.
   She jumped nervously when a hand was placed on her shoulder; quickly, she spun around.
   “Sebastian!” she gasped. “You scared me!”
   “I’m sorry,” he apologized, sitting down next to her. “I didn’t mean to.”
   They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Sebastian cleared his throat.
   “Franziska?”
   “Mm?”
   “Listen—I didn’t get to tell you this last night—that Blunt is one of the most annoying bats that ever lived—but—“
   The words “He is not!” burst from the girl’s lips before she could stop them, and she quickly clamped her lips shut, pressing them into her knees.
   “What?”
   “Nothing.”
   “Oh.” He looked a bit querulous, but continued. “Well—I decided that—well, I do like you, and…”
   Lily was feeling a pushing urge to leap to her feet with an excuse about getting to breakfast, and it was the sole thought that she wasn’t Lily that kept her hugging her knees and staring at him blankly but a bit hopefully.
   “…I wondered if you…er…ifyou’dliketobemygirlfriend,” he finished rapidly, staring at his hands.
   She should have seen that coming, Lily snarled to herself, and she shouldn’t have spent the entire night reliving embarrassing memories when she could have been thinking of what to say to this. She should have seen this coming—and Franziska, worse luck, would have said yes. But the one thing she absolutely refused to do was to walk into her husband’s classroom while holding hands with someone else. Other people might not have those scruples, but they were definitely predominant in her mind.
   “Sebastian—I—“
   Lily prevailed over the character that she was playing, and, standing up from the couch, she made a casual run for the girls’ dormitories. Rummaging through her papers on the desk that had Franziska’s things stacked on it, she pulled out the first uncompleted Transfiguration assignment she could find. Rolling it up and pushing it into the pocket of her robes, she dashed for the common room’s exit.
   “Franziska?” Sebastian asked, confused. “What—did I say something—“
   “I’ve just remembered,” she panted. “Got—to—give—something to—Professor Blunt.”
   Leaving an utterly baffled Sebastian Krum behind, she vanished into the hallway.