Chapter 11

Adriana was no happier in class. She was able to keep up with the class she had been placed in, but still found the work hard. When her parents wrote to ask how it was that she had been so held back, Olympe replied, it has to be said, rather waspishly that presumably this was caused either by poor teaching or a singularly lazy child, or possibly merely the combination of both.

As Adriana was inclined to rest on her laurels – and any other plants that came her way – in Herbology, her only competent subject, and failed to raise the enthusiasm to work hard in any other class, the latter was fair comment. Adriana fancied herself as a chanter as she liked to sing, and had already complained to Madame Maxime that the horrid cruel chanter made her do things that hurt.

This could be a damning thing to say about a young male professor and Madam Maxime soon had her confessing that it was the breath control exercises. Olympe called Philomène into her office and asked her about the effects of learning breath control.

Philomène shrugged.

"There is some discomfort at first, Madam Maxime; Professeur Zabini warned us, but it is not really painful, just that one feels a little bruised from exercising unaccustomed muscles. Those who are already fit barely notice it."

That was sufficient to be able to tell Adriana that she was a naughty child to slander a professor who was doing his best to help; and the Romanian child found herself dismissed with the adjuration that she was lucky not to find herself in serious trouble for spreading lies.

Adriana had of course hurt herself more than the exercises would ever do, by half listening to half of what she was told and had been breathing quite improperly and had managed to pull an intercostal muscle. Darryl soon realised this in her next class where she was almost sobbing, and told her off for not coming to him to have such damage sorted out; proceeded to chant to heal it, and suggested that if she listened in the future she would be less likely to inflict unnecessary damage on herself. It has to be said that Adriana, grateful for the relief from pain, settled down and, rather sulkily, did as she was told instead of what she thought she was told. Adriana was not by nature an industrious child, but she did not like being laughed at for doing badly; and she had been badly frightened by the large and frightening headmistress who had told her off for her racism and her complaints about her hurt muscle.

It had never occurred to Adriana, who was utterly unaware of things sexual, that her complaint might be taken that way. And though she resented him telling her off for not coming to him with a problem instead of concealing it – Olympe had decided not to pass on the child's complaint – she appreciated having it sorted out, and a relatively gentle explanation about how she had managed to do it in the first place. And it was the first kindness she had noticed – forgetting that she had spurned Philomène's kindnesses at first.

At least it made her a generally more tractable pupil, and Darryl for one was glad of that!

oOoOo

There seemed to be relatively little excitement in the school until the blood pulse of confusion and some distress from Philomène came one evening.

Darryl apparated smoothly to just outside the middle school common room, knocked, and went in; where Philomène appeared to be under physical attack by a member of the Seconde, a girl who had dropped out of chanting as soon as she discovered it was going to be hard work. Darryl recalled vaguely that the girl's name was Erzuli Duschesne, from Haiti, which suddenly made a lot of sense of why she appeared to be out of control with blackened, weeping eyes, and her muscles grossly swollen.

"Oh Merlin's bollocks," said Darryl, with deep feeling.

Fortunately the kids did not know enough English to be offended by this, particularly as they were more concerned with shrieking – in the case of many – or trying to pull Erzulie off Philomène – in the case of the few, which included the Rivals, Marc and Stephan, and her other bloodkin in the school who had also apparated in.

Darryl started a chant to reinforce the incarcerous spell he threw, and to levitate the physical body of Erzuli into the air. He motioned the others back and began to circle her, chanting. He knew very little of the original language of Benin, which had given rise to Vodou, or Voodoo as many Europeans rendered it, and therefore fell back on French and Latin, because the Church used Latin, and the Church condemned – usually without having a clue what they were condemning – all things regarding Voudon.

Well, they were right about this manifestation.

Erzuli had managed to make herself into a cheval to be ridden by Maitre Carrefour, who was generally bad news in any aspect. Darryl suspected that whichever Fey spirit took the form was also responsible for the god Loki, Carrefour being the trickster loa, lord of the crossroads and master of confusion. Not evil as such, but certainly NOT to be welcomed in a school. Even Hogwarts. Darryl was absently shielding Philomène from the wordless, wandless magic pouring from Erzuli, something the girl would never manage without being possessed by the darkish magician loa that rode her.

"I know you help with personal problems, old boy," said Darryl, conversationally, "but you really ought to realise that most of the personal problems of teenage girls are caused by an excess of hormones and an insufficiency of common sense. I'm going to cast you out, you know; and I give you fair warning, because if we do this in a civilised way, it won't hurt you."

"What do I get for leaving the little idiot of my own accord?" the voice that came from Erzuli was deep and grating, and the French was heavily accented and almost incomprehensible.

"You get for me not to hurt you, old boy," said Darryl. "I'm far too good for you, you know. I was trained by the best."

"I cannot go without either pact or struggle; I have been summoned," said Maitre Carrefour. Darryl shrugged.

"So be it," he said. "You can assuage pride and struggle, and still go with the ways and paths I open to limit the pain."

It was a way out. The Loa were such equivocal beings, not by any means the worst of the fey, being more capricious than anything else – and genuinely fascinated by humanity – that he preferred not to actually irritate one.

He began the chant; and after feeling the spirit fight against him for the first few repetitions of the stanza he quickly put together – and sensing deep respect from the spirit as he added a brief burst of old Norse against the power of fire – he found that he was not having to work so hard to dislodge the fey from the head of M'selle Duschesne. He completed the chant in any case. Anything else would leave her open to rapid and easy repossession; and there was a definite sense of respect from Maitre Carrefour. Darryl completed, and Erzuli Duschesne slumped in the magical bonds.

Gently he lowered her to the ground, and cancelled the bonds.

"What on earth was that about?" asked Horace Deveraux, who was one of half a dozen other staff members who had apparently arrived while Darryl was busy.

"Voudon," said Darryl, laconically, nodding to the head, who had also arrived. "Olympe, if you must have dippy girls from Haiti, it might be as well to consider the idea of comparative magic on your curriculum. Des – er, Fraulein Uccello wouldn't have a cat's chance in hell of unmounting a loa from a cheval, and I've lost you already."

"Zut alors!" cried Olympe Maxime, in lively horror. "Are you saying the girl was possessed? And willingly?"

"I don't know about willingly, Madame Maxime," said Darryl, thoughtfully, "I suspect the silly chit had no idea what she was letting herself in for. I suggest you take her to the hospital room; we can talk to her about it tomorrow."

Madame Maxime swept Erzuli off in her arms.

"That, my friend, was moderately impressive," said Amédé Cuiliere. "I believe I shall be getting some books on comparative magic over the holidays. BOTH holidays."

Darryl laughed. "Well, although I never took it to NEWT, I am glad I listen to other people complaining about holiday assignments," he said. "If I hadn't read around the subject too, for personal interest, and because the whole business is related to the fey, I'd have been totally out of my depth. Maitre Carrefour is a capricious fellow. Perhaps that's why he felt able to co-operate."

"THAT was co-operating?" asked Amédé.

"Oh he had to strut his stuff a bit," said Darryl. "But yes, he co-operated. He has the sense to realise it hurts less; and I did give him fair warning. Sometimes some spirits respond to that. Treating him like a demon will make him behave like a demon. I … understand that too well not to be ready to compromise."

"And perhaps that makes you greater and more subtle at that," said Amédé. "WHY are we still hanging around in the brats' common room when we could be having coffee with a strong dash of schnapps in it in the staffroom?"

"No idea," said Darryl, who thought Améde was on to a good idea there. Wrestling with loa, even going personality to personality rather than a real fight as such was a wearing thing.

oOoOo

The next day, Erzuli Duschesne had an uncomfortable interview in Madame Maxime's office.

"I was going to ask whatever possessed you to do that, but what possessed you was a bit obvious," said Darryl, who was asking the questions to try to unravel what had happened.

Erzuli burst into tears.

"I don't really remember what happened," she sobbed.

"Whilst under possession? No, with Maitre Carrefour, I believe that's a common situation," said Darryl, adding cynically, "and a way countless criminals have got out of too much trouble, by claiming possession and a loss of memory during the time of it. However, the period in which you were summoning Maitre Carrefour should NOT be lost to your memory."

Erzuli squirmed.

"I just wanted him to bring some bad luck to Philomène Fileur," she muttered. "Because Pharamond Duval spent Valentine's with her, doubtless she gave him a love potion to make him want to neck with her all evening instead of dancing!"

"For your information, you silly little girl," said Darryl, frostily, "Both Pharamond and Philomène were, in company of others, volunteers to help make the party for the little ones go with more of a swing. They were not necking, indeed they were not out of my sight all evening, because after we packed the small ones off to bed, I took my volunteers to drink coffee and chat, so not only is your assumption faulty, and indeed slanderous to suggest that M'selle Fileur should poison any schoolfriend, so too is your understanding of how to utilise a powerful loa for something along the lines of a jealous brat's corridor curses."

"I also suspect," said Madam Maxime, "that you have missed the point that M'selle Fileur is cleverer than you, and has an interest in many of the subjects that also interest M. Duval. Which in the long run is more likely to be efficacious in any romantic endeavour than either love potions or involving demonology. Yes, my child, raising loa comes under the province generally referred to as demonology, and you were extremely lucky to obtain the loa of your choice, and not a being infinitely more inimitable."

"And there are plenty," said Darryl. "If you wish to study vodou, you should read all you might while at school, and apprentice yourself to a reputable Bokor when you leave school. Misuse of it is far too dangerous for schoolgirls to dabble in. And you might pick yourself a more benign loa, like the one you are named for, Erzuli Freda."

Erzuli was sobbing in earnest now.

Olympe caught Darryl's eye and raised an interrogative eyebrow. He nodded. The silly girl had learned her lesson.

"You will tender a written apology to M'selle Fileur, begging her pardon for both suspecting her of breaking school rules, and for targeting her; and another to the Seconde and Troisième as a whole, apologising for disrupting their evening and causing them some distress," said Olympe, sternly. The girl nodded and stumbled off as soon as she was dismissed.

"Dareel, what would we have done without you!" cried Olympe.

"He'd have left of his own accord as soon as he was bored, as it happens," said Darryl, "But it really isn't done to encourage loa to ride schoolchildren. Silly piece! I doubt any Bokor would take her on if he or she heard of this, but there! She might grow up. It was lucky I had half an idea what I was talking about."

"We need more subjects," declared Madame Maxime. "And this shall prove it to the governors!"

oOoOo

Madame Maxime confided to Darryl that she hoped that Erzuli had not damaged her chances in the ELMs, as she had upset herself.

"Easter's late; it's not even March yet," said Darryl. "She has almost three months to compose herself; why should she have any problems?"

"Oh you English!" cried Madame Maxime. "Such a thing can cause hysteria and nightmares for months!"

"Dose her with glumbumble juice and a sweetsleep draft them," said Darryl. "If she concentrated more on her work and less on her love life, she would not need to worry about her exams; I have no sympathy with dippy girls who want to use an extended period of dippiness recovery to seek the sympathy vote."

Madame Maxime looked slightly pained.

"Does such harshness indeed spur leetle children on to perform?" she asked.

"Harshness? I don't consider expecting near adults – they are not little children – to take responsibility for their own actions to be harsh," said Darryl. "Is this why they are ready to fall into the arms of the likes of Achille, because they still expect someone to do their thinking for them when they leave school? I think why English children do better is because we train them to take responsibility, not cushion them from life, Olympe."

"Oh, but when they leave school, they have no more childhood; they deserve as happy and carefree a time as we might give them!" declared the big headmistress.

Darryl declined to answer any further; nothing he said was going to make any difference, and mistaken kindness was going to continue to turn out children unfitted for the exigencies of real life, because they went from being babies to being expected to be adults for the leaving of school; in much the same way English muggles were doing with their ever increasing insistence on 'Health and Safety' and wrapping sub adults in cotton wool – until they had to face the consequences of being adult for themselves. It was not a healthy trend.

However, hopefully without any more alarums, even Beauxbatons' precious loveys might survive the exams; and there were now Marauders in the school to carry on a tradition of ignoring health and safety. And with that in mind, Darryl set about working out a good arithmantic date to blood the Champagne Marauders, and proceeded to have them in his study for kaffee und kuchen – Darryl adhered rigidly to what he considered a very civilised Austrian custom – with their older counterparts, and explained blood magic in more detail.

He half expected protests from delicate French flowers, but the Lafée sisters were both nodding.

"The fey use blood pacts to seal bargains," said Amelie, "And less benign ones sometimes than what you speak of, which is bound to an unbreakable vow to love, not an unbreakable vow to succeed in some task. This seems quite sensible to me, and a way we may reiterate our ties of love and friendship."

At least the French were comfortable with words like love.

"It means we can feel more of each other's skills in the ties, too, doesn't it?" ventured Armand.

Darryl regarded the little boy with respect.

"Yes, Armand, it does," he said. "and in the NEXT triwizard when you and Melusine will be of an age to take part, it puts you on your honour too NOT to use the strength you can also draw from your fellows. As Pharamond, Jean-luc or Abelard will not do so, whichever of them is chosen next year."

"Excuse me," said Candide, "you seem very certain it will be one of those who are already, er, blooded who will be chosen. Is that not cheating that you ensure that they are of the best even if they do not use their additional advantages?"

"No, it's more that the brightest and best are chosen to maraud," said Darryl, "including those who are determined to succeed against odds. Personally – sorry boys – I have no doubt in my mind that the goblet will choose Pharamond and would have done so even if I had never met him."

Jean-Luc and Abelard shrugged fatalistically. They had already come to the same conclusion.

Candide nodded.

"I see; I had to make sure," she said.

"Of course you did. And you were quite right to raise it," said Darryl, pleased at such sense of fair play, even if a little pompously couched.

"What about Princess Orinjade?" asked Pharamond, suddenly. "I keep thinking she is close to being right… and if she has to deal with people who raise demons, we should be, as you English say, poor prunes if we did not support her."

Darryl nodded.

"I will ask her," he said. "I don't object in any respect to her being my sister, and if she IS going to be starting schools, having the blood group to support her against those who would oppose her would be good."

oOoOo

Darryl took the four already blooded marauders with him as chaperones and extracted Amyetis from the morning run next day; she had taken to joining them on hearing how well it improved stamina. Propped against a tree in the privacy of the forest, Darryl explained.

Amyetis nodded.

"When it first became apparent that you knew something of blood magic, I sent for the book about it by Professor Snape; as he is the world's pre-eminent potioneer, I was half disposed to purchase it in any case, that you have been trained by him convinced me. My English is poor, but I believe I have understood it well enough – I thought there was more to be gained, you understand, in reading it in the original, rather than risk missing a point in a poor translation."

"Well reasoned," said Darryl. "The German translation is pure enough, as it was done by Lydia Snape who may be a better chanter even than her father; he hasn't really had time to do it himself, and Lydia has not got around to the French version yet."

Amyetis smiled.

"I am glad it was the correct choice. I believe that it refers to a sharing of blood to protect one, or all within those who share. And the emphasis is on sharing not sacrificing. Is that correct?"

"In the English idiom, a hole in one," said Darryl. "Absolutely correct. So, are you willing to be in?"

Amyetis looked startled.

"You are a part of that same blood pact? And you are inviting me to join?"

"I am, and I am," said Darryl.

Her face flared in sudden joy.

"Oh! I had been wondering if I should ask you how I might set something like that up, to protect those who want to bring change, but if you are willing to share with me… that is beyond what I might have hoped!"

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," said Darryl. "There is a second, supportive, blood group. We are close to them as friends, but they are a backup JUST in case anything hard enough could resonate through the lot of us and knock us flying."

"It'd have to be the King of Hell and all his cohorts equally bloodjoined, and that is so not going to happen," said Pharamond. "But they like their own group identity, yes?"

"They did it illicitly, to give magic to a sensitive, but essentially muggle brother of one who was close to the original group," said Darryl. "They are sufficient unto themselves, and hit the ground running to support any of our people, as we do with theirs. Lionel – their de facto central figure, as Sev is for us – is an auror. And a fine one. If you preferred your own group, Amyetis, I'd help you in the ritual of setting it up, of course."

"I would rather belong to something strong enough not to have to worry how many goblins I decide to teach," said Amyetis.

"Good; then we'll be doing the ceremony on the last dark of the moon before Easter. That's 26th March, so a couple of days before we break up. We have no Marauding room set up here, alas," said Darryl.

He then had to explain Marauding to Amyetis, who looked slightly lost for having no notebook to take notes, but was otherwise storing away everything for future reference. Darryl did not doubt that there would be Assyrian Marauders before many years had passed.

"I will also spend, as you have suggested, next year in Prince Peak, learning more, so that I may be only marginally more ignorant than you about demonology," she made the heavy joke, but plainly intended as a joke.

"Ask Sev and you will probably end up much more knowledgeable than I," said Darryl, seriously. "He takes keeping the fey in their place pretty seriously."

"Thank you. I will do so," said Amyetis. "And I will learn to teach. Perhaps I may help bring on slower pupils to show me how."

"He'd appreciate that," said Darryl. Sev was going to have a large post graduate class; including the one-time brat of Ravenclaw, Amos Leroy, who was there entirely for music, and who had been recommended by the Auror who had been his guardian and essentially warder.

"We need to find a Marauding room," said Pharamond. "and by the way, as Princess Orinjade is sensible and didn't get put out, can we carry on running? There's a stiff breeze."

oOoOo

Pharamond approached Darryl later, somewhat the worse for cobwebs.

"Found a boxroom nobody uses," he said. "We cleaned it out. Will that do?"

Darryl permitted himself to be led up to the boxroom where the other four were still cleaning out corners with determined wands, and – in light of Lilith's experiences – carefully rescuing spiders and putting them out of the window rather than include them in the evanesco spell. Darryl nodded approval.

"Well, pretty much all that remains is to put on a Fidelius Charm, set up a book of all wickedness with the twisted Protean charm to write and receive what's in all the others, and we have ourselves a Marauding room," he said. "I had considered opening a portion of wizarding space tied only to the Blooded, but this is just fine. You haven't covered Protean Charms and the Fidelius Charm? Ah well, you won't learn younger then," he added as they shook their heads.

"Darryl, we haven't come across most stuff that I expect babes like Lilith have known since before starting school" said Jean-Luc, in his forthright fashion. "We will just have to put ourselves together and learn, n'est-ce pas?"

"That's the spirit!" said Darryl, heartily. He proceeded to ruthlessly drill them all – Pharamond at least was taking Charms to ELF and a working knowledge of the Protean Charm at least would not go amiss there. And no Marauder ought to be without a Fidelius Charm.

The Marauding room was set up in short order, and eyes widened as the blank book Darryl had brought there started to fill with everything from the dirigible fart curse to some rather sophisticated magic annotated by Lilith as 'not exactly dark but grubby round the edges'.

"If any potential dark wizard got their hands on this, it would make them very powerful," said Pharamond.

"Dippy idiot, that's why it's only copied to places under the Fidelius Charm so they can't, and it doesn't have to be taken out to copy," said Abelard, who sometimes went directly to the heart of things.

"Quite so, but without the insults," laughed Darryl.

oOoOo

Even Amyetis found it a bit thrilling to have the location of the Marauding room passed to her on the top corridor, and suddenly found a door that had not been visible before; those Marauders in the Cinquieme and Quartieme were mightily impressed and almost awed into silence.

Darryl decided not to make them solemnly swear that they were up to no good. Somehow it did not quite fit the French. He hastily improvised.

"I solemnly swear that mischief is my tool, defending is my goal, loyalty is my watchword," he said.

They raised their hands and repeated it.

Pharamond was in charge of the clock; and Darryl passed out silver knives. As Pharamond nodded they all slit their palms – and not even little Melusine squeaked more than a minimal amount – and then they were mingling blood.

"It is AMAZING!" cried Chantelle.

"And now, I understand so much more," said Amyetis, with deep satisfaction. She was smiling in contentment, the first time Darryl had seen her do so.

"Are we supposed to feel so TIRED?" asked Melusine.

"Yes; it is because you have been involved in serious ritual, even though it was simple to undertake," said Darryl. "Love magic is as simple as love itself; and as profound."

Amyetis was nodding.

"You did not bring me in at first because I had not learned enough to understand," she said. "Now I do."

"And you are my sister," said Darryl. "And now the part of the ritual many people like best: sweet cakes and hot chocolate."

The majority of the new blooded agreed that this was one of the better parts; though the sense of belonging was, as Armand said, too good even for words.

The future of Marauding in Beauxbatons, and in Assyria too, probably, was assured. The oldest here would bring in the Beaux Marauders next year, when it was auspicious, and help the younger two layers to decide if there was anyone suitable in the new intake. Amyetis would meet Marauders in Prince Peak – probably in action, for the so-called Sons of Zirnitra and the rump of the eastern Odessa among them were not about to back off. And there might be those ready to work with Amyetis too.

He had more than fulfilled the unspoken remit Severus had left him with, and it was not quite the end of the Spring semester.