"You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions." (Naquib Mahfouz)
When she arrived back at her room at Hogwarts on Sunday night, exhausted but beyond satisfied, she found Murry the house elf sitting cross-legged on her bed stroking Isis. She lifted an eyebrow and tried to smooth down her hair. Murry jumped up and hopped off the bed. "The headmaster wishes to see you. Murry has been waiting for three hours already."
Eleanor cursed softly. That meant that Dumbledore had also waited for her for three hours, and she hadn't even bothered to tidy herself up much once she had convinced Lucius it was finally time to say goodbye. "Uh, be there in a jiffy," she promised, dashed over to her desk to remove the portkey bracelet and pulled her dress-collar up over a particularly colorful bruise on the side of her throat. A quick flick of her wand rearranged her tousled hair. She knew that few things got past the headmaster anyway, so she might just as well face the music. He probably already knew where she had spent most of the weekend.
A few minutes later she ascended the spiral staircase to his office and entered the dim, oval room. Fawkes, the phoenix regarded her gravely from his perch and Dumbledore, who was seated at his desk, looked up from the documents he was studying and nodded as she approached him. "Eleanor, I am glad to see you back. We were beginning to worry about you." She cleared her throat. "I was, ummm, fine. I spent the weekend with a friend."
The headmaster gave her a sharp glance over his half-moon glasses. "I suppose so," he said slowly. "Please, have a seat. Chocolate frog?" She stared at him. "What!?" He pushed a glass container towards her filled with jumping, crawling confections. She shook her head. "Oh, I'm – I'm fine. Not hungry." Dumbledore lifted the lid, expertly caught a frog and dispatched it with relish. "Present from Argus Filch," he said, chewing happily. "He feels very bad over what happened."
"Anyway, my contacts at the Ministry tell me they have apprehended George Lepidus. Apparently they got an anonymous tip-off by mail, similar to the one that alerted them to the raid on Mr. and Mrs. Oswald. They also located the homunculus." Eleanor took a deep breath. "That's good news," she said neutrally.
The old wizard hunted another frog. "Come, now," he chided her. "I know that the anonymous tip came from you," he said. "I'm not going to tell the aurors, if you don't want me to, but I would like to know what happened." She composed herself, realizing that nothing but the truth would do now. Slowly and somewhat reluctantly she told her story. Dumbledore shook his head when she was done. "So Lucius Malfoy came through for you," he finally commented. "Frankly, I am surprised. If you had asked me to guess on the outcome of the standoff over the homunculus, I would have bet on him going for the means to resurrect Voldemort."
"Well, he didn't," she answered, somewhat defiantly. "Even if they are black wizards, the Malfoys have a sense of honor." Dumbledore regarded her. "So he did not do it because there was a change of heart." She felt anger now. "If you mean, did he refrain out of respect and regard for me, then perhaps – yes. If you mean did I 'turn' him, then – no. He will be who he is, and I have no ambition to change that." Deliberately she relaxed her muscles and sat back in her chair. Dumbledore nodded. "I understand." The silence between them stretched, then the headmaster leaned forward. "Well, I have two items of news for you. First of all, the homunculus is dead. The aurors killed it painlessly and quickly in accordance with the provisions of the 1911 act. Second, Lepidus faces trial next week on accusations that will land him in Azkaban for the rest of his natural life. All of this would not have been possible without your help. Is there anything we can do for you?"
She didn't need long to consider. "Keep Lucius Malfoy out of this. It seems your contacts in the Ministry are powerful and numerous. Lepidus may implicate him, but he has been more or less blameless in this affair." Dumbledore nodded. "I can do that. Anything for yourself?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm happy to be back where I belong in the wizarding world and thankful to you and Minerva for getting me there."
The old wizard rooted in a drawer of his desk and pushed a piece of parchment towards her. She had no problem recognizing the Old Icelandic runes. Most of her old school notices had been written in them. After a minute of reading she looked up at her boss. "Durmstrang is looking for a Defense against the Dark Arts Teacher! Halfway through term? That must have been bad luck for the old one," she exclaimed. She saw a smile on the headmaster's face. "Interested?" he asked. She felt a shiver of unanticipated excitement run through her. Her old school, and one of the most dangerous and most coveted positions any wizarding teacher could hold… "I'd love to go," she laughed. "But it's not even Yule, and you need me for muggle studies…"
Dumbledore smiled. "I think Durmstrang needs you more. The way things are going, young witches and wizards everywhere will need to know all the defense they can get. Putting a petrificus spell on Voldemort's former bodyguard and chief Death Eater should qualify you. I can teach muggle studies for the rest of the term. Heck, I'd enjoy getting out of this office once in a while. And I hear that George and Frank Weasly are two of your star pupils." "Something like that," she grinned. "So should I tell them that you accept?" Dumbledore asked.
Eleanor took a minute to collect herself. She had never been more alive then when she had been at Durmstrang – well, excepting a few precious hours with a certain blond wizard. Returning as a teacher, and for a subject she loved, would be the ultimate experience. She licked her lips. "Please let them know that I would be honored and delighted to return and teach. And please don't take this as a decision against Hogwarts."
Dumbledore held up a hand. "Don't worry. If I had to ask the sorting hat, I think he would have had a hard time to really put you in any house here. You have the brains of a Ravenclaw, but no their principles, the bravery of Gryffindor, but not their uncompromising loyalty to the white arts, the power and inventiveness of Slytheryn, but not their arrogance and self-serving interest, and the readiness of Hufflepuff to accept anyone, but not their innocence. I believe you will be happier at Durmstrang. They would be expecting you during the Yule vacations."
Eleanor smiled, taking no offense at Dumbledore's frank assessment of her. "I'll be ready," she said. She had already known that her continued involvement with Lucius Malfoy had made her position at the school untenable for her, and this was a perfect solution. Also, she thought with a stab of amusement, Durmstrang had none of Hogwart's anti-apparition rules, so visits from a certain blond wizard were no longer impossible.
The next few days passed in a flurry of activities, as Eleanor had to meet her Hogwarts teaching schedule, submit to an unofficial debriefing regarding the homunculus affair with the chief auror and several Unmentionables at the Ministry, and organize her impending departure to Durmstrang. While Dumbledore's recommendation had propelled her up the list of hopeful candidates, she still needed to interview with the headmaster and staff.
Fortunately no one put up any objections to her application, and she was glad to hear that she would be reassigned to the House of Fire, her old house during her days as a wizarding student. Durmstrang's four houses were named for the four elements, not for any founding wizards and witches, as the school was so much older than even Hogwarts. And so the students and teachers were known in turn as the Salamanders, the Undines, the Sylphs and the Gnomes.
As the week wore on she realized she really needed to write to Lucius. Apart from the news she had for him about her new teaching assignment and the aurors' actions with regard to the homunculus and a certain ex chief Death Eater, she wanted to ask him whether Dumbledore and the Ministry had upheld their part of the bargain and had refrained from bothering him.
The Daily Prophet had been remarkably quiet about the whole development. Apart from a short notice regarding the apprehension of George Lepidus on charges of putting an unforgivable curse on Argus Filch and having killed a male muggle in his thirties, the paper maintained stony silence. However, as she finally found a free moment on Thursday night to sit down at her desk, she had barely put pen to parchment, when a black shadow beat at the panes of her study window.
As she opened it, she found a familiar eagle owl sitting on the sill, eying her arrogantly out of half-closed eyes. She smiled at the sight and quickly put on her owling glove to allow the bird inside. Lucius' mail looked very official this time. A large heavy black envelope bore the Malfoy crest in silver and her address written in the same ink in a style she did not recognize. It was much more filigreed and curly than Lucius' usual bold script, laden with flourishes and ornamentation. Inside she found a simple piece of premium vellum and a folded billet made from heavy cream-colored card stock.
Recognizing Lucius' writing on the parchment she first turned to the card. Its front was expensively stamped with a gilt emblem of a crossed wand and bone and bore the embossed inscription: 'St. Mungo's Annual Halloween Charity Ball'. As she opened it she read that she was cordially invited to a ball and buffet on the 31st of October, to be held at the hospital, starting at 7 PM and cumulating in a large magical indoors fireworks display at midnight. Costume for invited guests was obligatory. On the back of the card, magical scrolling writing showed all of the organizers and patrons who had been involved in planning and sponsoring the event. The list was led by the name of Narcissa Malfoy.
She lowered the card and shook her head. So she now held in her hands an official invitation to her lover's wife's pet event. It didn't get much more bizarre than that. A few days ago the Daily Prophet had reported that each of these beauties came at the steep expense of 120 galleons, proceeds of the sale to go to the refurbishment of several wards at the hospital. She next picked up Lucius' note.
"Dear Eleanor,
Fallout from our adventures last Friday has kept me busier these past few days than I would have wished to be. So I hope you will forgive me for not writing to you before. I am quite surprised that the Ministry has not contacted me in any way and hope the same has been the case for you. Still I fully expect we are both being watched attentively by all sides, and so will keep this letter short.
As you may have surmised from the enclosed invitation, my wife has been involved in the organization of a rather spectacular annual event, the Charity Ball at St. Mungo's. For her efforts, the Malfoys get a few invitations every year, to use as they see fit. So I was wondering if you would do me the honor to attend.
If you feel you need to object, due to the fact that Narcissa will be present, please don't. While I will be required to make an entrance with her, we have always kept out amusements during the rest of the evening strictly separated. If you are still not convinced, I would beg you to make your presence my birthday present for this year.
Always yours, Lucius."
She lowered the parchment and had to admire his skills of manipulation. He had already thought to anticipate and refute her very valid reservations, and had decided to play the birthday card on top. The man really didn't expect to ever be turned down for anything in his life. Of course she had already found out that Lucius was born on a Halloween evening, and while it had amused her at first, Lepidus revelation about the circumstances of his birth put a sinister slant on the date.
Halloween was the time when the realms of the living and the dead touched, when transitions and transformations of all kinds were possible. There could have been no better day for an exchange between the life-force of a parent and their child. Lucius' birthday was integral to the circumstances of his very existence. She glanced at the letter again. When she read the last sentence a second time, she suddenly felt it laden with unspoken emotion.
How would he feel on his first birthday after discovering the fact that his birth had literally cost his mother her life? Lepidus had made it clear that the death had not been an accident of delivery, which, though tragic, should not make a child feel guilty. Instead it had been deliberately planned, and her life had passed on to her son by design. How would a child feel about that?
"I beg you…" she murmured. She was certain that the expression was not part of Lucius' standard vocabulary. Her mind was made up a few seconds later. She would go, and she would meet him. She'd rather tell him about the events of the past few days in person anyway, especially if he was right, and both the remaining Death Eaters and the aurors were paying more than the usual attention to them.
She turned back to her own letter and jotted down a quick reply, assuring him she'd attend the ball and letting him know she'd be fashionably late to allow him time to fulfill his representative duties at Narcissa's side. She still had a few days to get organized and her next concern was the costume, when she remembered the clothes trunk she had seen at Gringotts that contained some of her grandmother's rather extravagant wardrobe. She decided that a visit to London was in order as soon as she could make time for it.
Halloween that year was a cold, rainy and blustery day. Classes tended to be interrupted at unexpected moments by all manner of pranks and magical mischief, and everyone was happily anticipating the big feast in the great hall in the evening. Eleanor Sartorius had made her excuses as soon as she had finished teaching for the day and set out for London. Her first stop-over was her old childhood home where she had readied her costume several days earlier.
She shivered in the unheated entrance-hall until a warming spell took care of the worst of the clammy cold that had crept into the uninhabited house. Then she took a little time to brew a strong pot of tea. Outside it was already dark when she finally pulled up a chair in her study. She opened the drawer of her desk and took out a small box. Unsheathing her wand she spent several minutes enchanting the object in it, before closing and wrapping the box. Next she walked upstairs into her bedroom where one of her grandmother's magical robes lay spread out on her bed. She regarded it and chewed her lip.
The piece would be an absolute scene-stealer. Again she argued back and forth in her mind about how much attention she wanted to call to herself and to Lucius, but as before when she had looked first on the unique combination of the arts of magic and of sewing in her vault at the bank, her proud Sartorius spirit won out. She was back, she was officially a witch again, one of the enemies of her house rotted in a dank cell at Azkaban, she would be the next Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Durmstrang, and she had successfully closed one of the darker chapters in her grandfather's life. She deserved to celebrate, to make a public statement and be recognized. Her mind made up she stripped, shivering in the cold and slid into her grandmother's gown. She already knew that it fitted her perfectly, as did the gloves, mask and sandals that came with it.
It took her another quarter of an hour and several spells in the bathroom to arrange her hair to her liking and apply make-up and the mask that complemented her dress. Finally she took a last long look at herself in the floor-length mirror next to the sink and smiled at her reflection, satisfied with the result of her efforts. She walked back to her study and checked the time. Nine o'clock, hopefully Lucius would now be able to disentangle himself from his representative duties.
She picked up the wrapped box and her invitation, unsheathed her wand and murmured an apparition spell. Moments later her surroundings blurred around her and she found herself in a small anteroom, that the hospital had obviously set aside for apparating guests. No one wanted visitors to just pop up randomly among the crowd. As she left the room, an elderly wizard dressed in Celtic druid robes stopped her to collect her invitation and after taking a rather curious look at her attire ushered her into the main hall.