Teamwork

Chapter 10

There was a buzz of excitement in the main hall when the professors slouched their way to their table. Their table, usually stuck as far into the corner as possible, had been pulled out and into line with most of the other professors' tables. Gregorov's summoning area had been cunningly lit so all of the symbols could be read from anywhere in the hall. All the lines were dark and all the symbols and names were clearly marked.

De Rais and Haken were discussing their parts in the festivities. Since Haken would go first, it was his chore to hold the attention of students who normally could not be kept interested for more than five minutes. Haken's plans would easily work into de Rais' own. They were down to working out the actual staging. Haken's excitement matched de Rais' complete detachment. It balanced out.

Kessler was still trying to decide which curse to do. It would be a killing curse, that much he knew, but he wanted it to be spectacular. He flopped down onto the middle of the bench and pulled out a book. There were too many choices and he kept changing his mind. As his dinner spattered the pages, he narrowed it down.

Gregorov stared at his work. He looked confident and had his usual arrogant ways about him, but inside he still wasn't certain if the circle and star arrangement would work. He had found another version of the rites in a grimoire, and yet another in a scroll. He wanted a drink.

Jones and Wronski slumped against the wall and waited. Wronski looked bored. Now that the actual brewing was over and the thing was bottled, the fun part was done. He rehearsed his little speech and vaguely wondered if he would have to pry the teeth apart.

Jones' preparation was done. She had worked to the last minute, having had to start over after dropping some of her cigarette's ash into the herbs. She knew she really had to quit, or at least slow down, but it was her last and favorite vice.

Lowenstein appeared to be asleep.

The only person who was visibly nervous was Rabe. Now that the time had finally arrived, it was obvious that he had no idea what was supposed to happen. His staff appeared calm to the point of inertia. He also worried about what the other department had planned. He should have told them about the little contest idea. The Headmaster had thought it a fine idea and his counterpart had made it sound like fun. The expressions on their faces this morning were not what he had expected. Since he had managed to avoid being in control until now, he, of course, tried to take control. With cold eyes, they stared him down until, at last, he sat down muttering to himself in his own language.

One of the Defense teachers wandered over to Gregorov's area. He motioned over another of his colleagues and they appeared to be discussing one area of the star. Gregorov paled. The big Russian lurched to his feet to listen to what was being said. Jones started to go, too. "No team." Wronski grabbed her arm. "Let him do it himself. Just because you know everything doesn't mean you need to share."

"He's never done it before!" She hissed. "I don't think he's ever seen one done, either."

Wronski shrugged. "Do you think he'd help you out? Nobody's on your side here except you. Just thought you might want to remember that." He poured himself a glass of water and stared at nothing.

The point stung home. It wasn't the kind of group that you would run to if you needed help. Well, she might ask Paul, but she somehow doubted he would put out too much effort to help her. It was a sobering thought. She nodded. "No team." And felt a coldness take over. Save it for your own show.

They watched Gregorov and the other two. There was a lot of conversation going on. A lot of pointing and odd silences. Gregorov used his usual tactic of getting angry and storming off to end it. His arrival back at the table seemed to wake Lowenstein up. "Is it time?" Golden eyes looked around sleepily at the table. Several heads shook no. Lowenstein shrugged and went back to sleep.

It was very quiet for awhile. Hardly anyone ate except for Kessler who finally put his book down and said that he had found what he was going to do. No one seemed to care. They were watching the other table across the hall. Those professors were the antithesis of their table. They were laughing and joking. Food was being passed and a lot of wine was being poured.

Visibly agitated, Gregorov drummed his fingers and shifted in his seat. He watched the other table and shifted his weight from one side to another each time someone laughed. Finally, with a huge effort, he turned and stared at Jones. "Talk. Now." He motioned to the door.

With a sniff, she pulled out her cigarettes and matches. It would annoy Gregorov and give her something to do while she was outside freezing.

"What?" The wind whipped at her coat and put out her match. She tried again and was successful but just barely.

"They say that I have made a mistake in the order of my symbols on the star." For Gregorov to admit that something was wrong and that she might know something he did not gave Jones an almost warm glow.

"Did you copy it exactly from the book?" She could not resist and blew the smoke towards him.

"Exactly! I copied it exactly." He waved the smoke away and waited.

"Well, if it's exactly the same and your lines are strong... You know the name of the demon, right?" She watched as Gregorov nodded and seemed to calm down. "Do you have a back up just in case that one's busy?" More nods. "Do you know how to get rid of it?" Blank look. "Gregorov, you need to know how to get rid of it, too."

"The books only talk about summoning, not dispelling. I had not thought..."

"Obviously." She finished the first one and immediately lit another. "Now, I've never done this, but what I recall is that the wizard said something really simple like "I compel you to leave this plane and return to whence you came." I'm not sure if those are the exact words though." She tried to recall the past rituals that she had seen but it had been years ago. She mostly remembered the one that had failed and the gory aftermath. "Those others, did they seem to know a lot about it?"

"They seemed to know everything about it." Gregorov was starting to sound morose.

"OK. I think we're fine no matter what happens."

Gregorov waited. She did not say anything but just continued to drag down her cigarette.

Gregorov could not stand the silence and shouted, "What?!"

"Trust me. OK. Don't trust me. Trust yourself. You copied it perfectly. You know which one you're calling and who you'll call next, right?" He said nothing, obviously waiting. "Summon it, show it off, and then order it to leave. What could be simpler?"

Gregorov spat, "Thank you for such a cunning plan."

"You're welcome. Don't worry about paying me or anything." She finished and tossed the butt into the snow. She was almost sure Gregorov could handle it but, if he could not, she knew what she could do to help. She could hear Wronski, "No team." So, there was no team... but there could be a pinch hitter, couldn't there?

They reentered the hall as the Headmaster stood up to make his speech. Jones more or less ignored it. The Headmaster always went on way too long and Rabe would repeat any important points over and over and over again. She spent that time watching the Defense professors. She realized that she did not know the names of any of them. Haken would know but she could not ask him now. Feeling like she was back in high school, she fished out a scrap of paper and a pen and wrote, "Who are they?" and passed it to Wronski who was nodding off next to her.

He read the note and took the pen from her. "Dept. Head Lester; Jessup, don't know the rest of them".

Not much help there. She thought about passing her note down to Haken but he was too far down. To her surprise, Lowenstein took the paper and finished the list: "Hyde, Berger and Heiniger". She checked through the names but none of them were familiar. She scrawled, "Do they know anything?" and passed the note back. Lowenstein looked away, he seemed to be listening to the speech. Finally, he took the paper and wrote in his elegant script, "N, N, J, J, J," under the names. It took a moment before she realized that the "J"s meant "Ja" for "yes". She nodded, still not knowing anything, but any information was better than nothing. There wasn't much room left on the paper but she squeezed in, "Who talked to G?" and passed it back. Gilles glanced over at them, read the note and gave one of his rare thin smiles. He pointed at Jessup and Berger. A "N" and a "J". She took the paper back and looked back at the other table. Applause broke her concentration and Wronski elbowed her to get her to join in. Time to shine.

Rabe and Kessler left the table to stand next to the Headmaster. Wronski leaned over and whispered, "Kessler is next in line if Rabe ever leaves."

She gave him an odd look. "Leaves?" she mouthed.

"He's been trying to get a transfer. Guess where? Your first two don't count."

She watched as newly identified Lester stepped forward to shake Rabe's hand. They seemed to know each other fairly well. It was obvious that Kessler did not know Lester or the other Defense person who also came up. She glanced back at Wronski. The eyes acknowledged the question. No wonder Rabe was never in his office. Well, almost never. Her other questions went unanswered as the Headmaster called Haken forward.

Haken received a lot of cheers. He was easily the most popular teacher in the Dark Arts department. Compared to the others, he was outgoing and loved to talk about his subject. When the cheers subsided, he stood at attention while the guards brought the subjects in for the demonstration. Jones sucked in her breath. "They're the wrong ones."

Gilles slid around on the bench, managing to make it look as though no muscles had moved. "How do you know?"

"Marked them with my own sigil and the school's mark. None of those have them." Jones wanted to jump up and start yelling foul but Gilles flowed up and moved to stand between Rabe and Kessler. Their heads jerked towards the three men standing there. There was more talking while the first of the men was led forward.

Rabe, obviously reluctant, stepped forward and talked to the Headmaster. The Headmaster smiled. It was generally not a good sign when he smiled.

"The Department of the Dark Arts calls a foul as these are not those selected earlier."

Lester challenged, "Are they not able to perform their "work" on anyone? Are they not powerful enough?" The sarcasm rolled out, begging to be wallowed in.

Haken stepped forward, managing to somehow plant his boot heel on Lester's instep. "It matters not to me. To counter your allegations, I will perform three of those spells that have been labeled as forbidden in other countries." He waved at the guard who brought the first man forward. "Crucio!" The students had seen this one several times and they were not impressed. A paper airplane flew down onto the stage. Haken grimaced. He was supposed to be doing entry-level spells. The next demonstration was of the Imperius Curse and the prisoner was forced to do several tricks, none of which impressed the jaded student body. The Defense department managed a slow, synchronized clap. Infuriated, Haken turned towards Lester; however, Rabe grabbed his shoulders and turned him back. Hardly looking at the recipient, Haken finished his portion, "Avada Kedavra" There was a thump as the man fell forward, quite dead. That got the students' attention. Wild applause erupted. The lighting caught Haken's snarl as he stalked back to the table. Lester wisely stepped back, looking uncomfortable as he faded back into the darkness.

"Professor Kessler," the Headmaster called out.

Kessler practically leapt to the area where Haken had been. "Headmaster," he bowed, "Will we be using those selected earlier or are we using what is here?" He swept an arm out towards the remaining two prisoners.

The Headmaster and Kessler were old friends or at least drinking companions. The Headmaster held up his glass, staring thoughtfully at it for a bit. After a short, dramatic pause, he said, "You may have them all. Bring the others." One of the guards turned and left as the other dragged the remaining two forward.

For all of his lack of preparation, Kessler performed like a true professional. He gave a small lecture about the nature of Dark Curses. The students squirmed in their seats. Some grumbling that lectures should be over by Friday night. Kessler recaptured their attention when he mentioned that some curses could make an unnatural death go undetected. Standing in the light, he made a very flashy wave of his wand and called out, "Suffoca!"

In what seemed to be slow motion, the man clawed at his throat, fell to his knees and then fell forward. It took a while to complete. No one did a thing until the man's struggles were almost done. Grinning broadly, Kessler turned to the assembled Defense professors and casually asked, "What would the counter be?"

There was much stammering. It became quite clear that these men were scholars, not practitioners. The man shuddered and died while they struggled to think of a response. Sounding cheerful, Kessler informed the audience, "Ah. The counter is very simple: Respira. But it is too late. Next time?"

Jones could not help herself. She leapt up and applauded. Good example of a simple curse and their opponents were not able to come up with the counter. Wronski grabbed her arm and pulled her back into her seat. "Wait and see what else happens."

Kessler looked very pleased with himself. Someone new stepped up from the Defense table. Lowenstein sighed. "Who's that?" Jones demanded.

"Professor Heiniger. He is quite clever. I believe he worked as an Auror before he came here." Lowenstein leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"What's an 'Auror'?" She looked to Wronski who seemed more interested in chasing the last of his dinner around his plate than answering her question.

"Wronski..."

"An Auror is like a magic cop. Remember the witch hunt? Well, Europe's got Aurors. Folks who actually do work, not sit in an ivory tower. The private sector."

Heiniger's whole demeanor was different than the other two. He stood differently and had an intensity of focus. Kessler half bowed as if meeting an opponent for a duel. The last man was brought forward. "In Morbum Incide!" The prisoner sagged forward, making a gagging sound.

Heiniger bounced in place, countering with, "Bene Valere!" The prisoner looked green and shaky, but he stopped gagging.

"Venena!" The man gasped and his hands clawed at the air. Kessler looked expectantly at Heiniger.

"Purgare!"

And thus it went. For every one of Kessler's curses, Heiniger had a countercurse. They were very well matched. Too well matched. The students cheered or jeered and the background noise grew. It went on long enough that both of the combatants were caught by surprise by the sudden death of their subject.

"Shock. Amazed he lasted that long." Haken reached for the remaining rolls. "Any meat left?"

Jones shoved the platter over towards him and watched while Kessler and Heiniger bowed to each other and each left for his respective table.

The Headmaster called out, "Professor Wronski!"

Wronski picked up his satchel and headed out to the floor. He gave a brief lecture about poisons. No one was listening. He had not expected anyone to listen so he wasn't disappointed. The Defense professors were bored. Not much to do against an unknown potion.

The guard dragged one of the three new people forward. Wronski pulled out his wand and waited while the man was brought forward. He hissed the spell, "Imperio" watching carefully until the man's eyes glazed. "Open your mouth." For him, the exciting part of the process was the actual brewing of the potion. He seemed bored as he poured the vile-smelling concoction down the man's throat and turned to go back to his seat. The reactions from the gallery caught him by surprise and the sounds of "oohs" and gagging stopped him. Every year, he demonstrated the same thing on rats in his seventh-year Potions class. The solution literally melted flesh away, a sight that almost always caused someone to retch each time. The effect on something as big as a person was more than he had anticipated. Wronski visibly turned green as he tried to keep from vomiting. Struggling to maintain his mask of complete indifference, he unsteadily walked back to the table. Several of the others had glazed expressions. Except de Rais who was mesmerized. "Hey, you can have him if you want to work on him." Wronski offered in a thick voice.

Gilles almost purred, "Interesting. No. Not tonight. I would like to try some other time."

Jones looked green, but she managed to swallow and comment, "The equivalent spell isn't so runny. I think I'll stick to the spell format though."

It was de Rais' turn next. He looked at his wax poppet and, with a small wave, left it on the table. It no longer mattered to him. He seemed to glide around the bodies, checking each of them to see what was available. Then, after bowing low before the Headmaster and, saying nothing and using no wand, he spread his gloved hands out and ever so slowly raised them. Every move was slow and precise and incredibly controlled. At first it seemed as though nothing was happening. Gilles moved around the fallen, slowly, gracefully. Then a hand twitched. A leg straightened. Hands clenched. The corpses got to their hands and knees and then straightened upright onto their knees and then stood. Slack necks straightened and, at his beckoning gesture, they walked forward.

Heiniger, ever vigilant and ready, bounded forward and attempted to dispel the creatures. Gilles folded his arms across his chest and looked disdainfully at his attempts. With a flick of a finger, his creations ambled forward. Lester added his spells but for naught. Gilles leaned against the Headmaster's table and watched as the others scrambled to counter his work.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. Gilles held up his hand and his creatures stopped. He moved to face the Headmaster and waited while his trio of death swayed behind him. The Headmaster waved his hand in dismissal. Another bow and Gilles turned, made an ever-so-small motion and the bodies fell back. It felt unnaturally cold in the room as Gilles returned to his place at the table. No one looked at him. Everyone's eyes were some place else.

"Professor Jones." Jones was startled. For some reason she had thought she would be the last. Guess a demon summoning is a bit more exciting. No one clapped. Most were still frightened by what they had just seen. True power was always terrifying.

Pointing at the man to be brought forward, she tried to speak but nothing came out. Unusual occurrence for her. She pointed at a glass of water, which was brought to her. She didn't recognize her voice as she described the Separa spell. Somehow, she didn't think its gore factor was going to compare with Gilles' display, but she had to finish what she started. She described the work that had been done before, what she had chosen to connect the victim to the spell and what could be done differently. Her voice sounded squeaky to her and she really wanted a cigarette. Across the hall, she saw Wronski make a very rude rhythmic gesture at her. Get on with it. The spell still had a lengthy incantation. Her voice was unsteady as she started; the vision of swaying corpses had rattled her, but it grew stronger and more confident as she rolled through the Latin. She was vaguely aware of motion behind her but the spell required her full concentration. As she said the last part of the spell, she plunged her knife into the blood and herb mixture. The last words were being spoken when she heard someone else chanting behind her. She turned, still chanting, to see the rather annoying Heiniger obviously working to counteract her spell. What? She glanced over to Rabe who seemed especially smug. She nodded to herself. He had not believed her threat earlier and was probably still pissed off at her for barging into his quarters. She glanced back to Heiniger who seemed to be holding up her spell. What had Gregorov said this morning? Duel?

She grudgingly admired Heiniger's abilities as he wound up his incantation. He was doing a good job of stopping her spell. The intended recipient's flesh was vibrating as it attempted to separate into layers while his spell forced it back. Too bad he was busy with his counterspell. She smiled her little thin smile and said, "Redi!" Such a nice old spell. Really should be outlawed because it was so useful. Heiniger screamed as his spell was reflected back onto him. His skin became taut to his body, muscles seemed to pull inwards, everything got very tight. Behind her, her spell's victim exploded into layers. She wondered if the staff had put the plastic down while she was watching Heiniger.

She heard a thump as the Defense professors leapt over their table. She saw them coming and felt the thrill of competition take her. Oh. What to do next? So many choices. Her wand came up and she was ready with her spell when she found herself tackled and pinned under Rabe. "Stop it!" he yelled as he shook her as hard as he could.

"Finite Incantatum." She spat the words out as Rabe threw her aside. Heiniger was gasping in pain and rolled into a fetal position. She got to her feet and for the first time felt a bit unsure about her actions. Well, what did they expect? Was she supposed to stand there and applaud Heiniger's efforts? One look at the Headmaster told her she had stepped over the line. Hanging her head, she waited. It was going to be bad. She was going to be made an example.

The Headmaster motioned for her to be brought to him. Hands grabbed her arms and dragged her over. Wincing, she looked up. He spoke the word and the word was pain. Pain. Light. Silence that wasn't. Some time during the blinding agony and the loss of her dinner, she wondered if her students had taken notes. This was what she had been referring to in her lecture two months ago.

When she could see again, she found herself back at the table, half-falling off the bench. She felt horrible. She always felt bad afterwards, but this time it was especially awful. She wiped the bile away from her mouth and found a glass of water. She did not even care if it was hers.

Wronski leaned forward to see if she was conscious yet. "You are such an idiot. Don't you ever stop to think?"

She looked away. "I bet I could have taken them", she muttered. Maybe not. They were still getting Heiniger out of the hall. She knew that the punishments did not last as long as they felt like they did, but it seemed like days had passed. It was bad enough that she had been dealt with in such a public way, but she knew she would be listening to Rabe yelling at her for the rest of the year. She really wanted a cigarette and that bottle of wine she had won in the bet what seemed like eons ago. "Is he dead?" she croaked.

"No. Lucky for you." Kessler seemed to appear out of the shadows. "Your spell was impressive. You will have to show me how it is done." He disappeared again to stand next to Rabe.

"Gregorov?" She watched as a thin thread of red swirled around her water. She must have bitten her cheek. Not good to leave blood around.

Haken leaned forward, looking around Wronski to answer. "Not yet. Professor Lowenstein is ready to cast the wards and the circle." He paused for a moment and then added, "If Rabe had not stopped me, I would have been the one on the floor." He looked away for a moment, thinking. "Could you have stood up to all of them? I think Professor Rabe was scared you would." He whispered the last, as if afraid that Rabe would appear.

"Dunno. Maybe. I would have gone down trying." Jones slumped forward to rest her elbows on the table and watched as Heiniger was levitated out. The mediwizard followed the limp body. Darn good spell. Almost made it worthwhile.

The last presentation of the evening was announced as Lowenstein walked forward. As he set his wards and cast the circle, all done very slowly and precisely, Gregorov described what the various parts of the circle and star were used for. Gregorov wasn't the most linear lecturer, but he got the information across. The two managed to finish about the same time. Lowenstein bowed towards the Headmaster and backed out of the light. Gregorov stood alone.

Chanting the demon Bechet's name over and over, Gregorov paced around his symbols. Demon summoning wasn't as precise as he would have liked. Demons did not have to show up. If they were busy, they may let you know or they may not. After several minutes, nothing happened and the shuffling and talking in the shadows became louder and louder. Bechet wasn't going to be summoned.

Gregorov was becoming increasingly frustrated. He refused to be the only one who failed in his presentation. He had put too much effort into the ritual. Surely, he could find another demon to summon. What was the one Jones had said? Belphegor replaced Bechet. Apparently, Belphegor wasn't busy that Friday. The collective gasp stopped his chanting. Shoving his hair out of his eyes, Gregorov stood face-to-(what counted as a)-face with his first demon.

Belphegor was big. Shouting obscenities and rippling through different forms, both human and non, the demon stretched against the bounds of the star and circle. It was everything the book had warned about and more. Excited, several people shoved forward to get a better look.

Gregorov realized that he had no idea what to do next. Gregorov looked over at the table, getting nods of approval and a smile from Jones. "Now what?" he mouthed. She winked.

Gregorov realized that the demon was watching him. It had stabilized into one form - that of a handsome man and it followed his every move. "What would you of me?" The demon's voice was as fair as his face. Seductive almost.

Stepping back, Gregorov admired his demon. He felt very proud of himself as he walked around his circle, enjoying the feeling of power. "Release me and I will serve you well." The tones were honeyed and Belphegor shifted again to a beautiful nude woman who stroked her body invitingly. The body was beautiful, it was easy to ignore the feet, which were those of a chicken. Raising her arms, the woman danced in the circle. More eyes than Gregorov's were fixed on the sight.

Jones groaned. Men. "It's a demon you idiot! It can take every form there is."

Gregorov sort of looked her way, but the lovely woman reached out at him. Obviously, his brain was no longer in charge.

Clearing her throat and gagging at the bile, she managed to say, "Our department has summoned it. Surely, the Defense Against the Dark Arts department can banish it. Seems easy enough." No one seemed to hear her.

Wronski chuckled. "Try again. Maybe with some more volume. It's a lot more interesting than you are."

"Sonorus!" She tapped her throat with her wand and then repeated, "The Dark Arts wizard has summoned it. The Defense Against the Dark Arts department can banish it."

The Defense professors glowered. Rather disdainfully, they described a circle of protection around themselves and stood back to watch.

"Quietus!" No one needed to hear her snarling response to that reaction.

The demon turned its back on her, leaned over, and did something incredibly rude. Its insult delivered, it returned its full attentions back to the crowd. Its words didn't travel very far, but its movements indicated a willingness that was irresistible to the crowd around it. The mob pressed closer until the wards pulsed brightly and held them back.

Lowenstein sat back down at the table.

"Will the wards hold?" Haken asked.

Lowenstein shrugged. "I did not know he was calling a demon from the major arcana. I had thought something in the minor arcana would suffice. I do not believe anyone other than Gregorov can be a problem. He alone can enter and leave the wards. As long as he does not disrupt the circle, it should hold."

"So we're hoping Gregorov's libido doesn't overwhelm his brain." Wronski thought a second. "I'm leaving." Haken and Lowenstein got up to leave, too.

"Wait! Don't you think you should stay and help? What if it gets out?" Jones sounded desperate.

Wronski glared back. "You don't get it. So what? It's Gregorov's problem, not ours." Haken and Lowenstein looked indifferent. De Rais stood and joined them. "No team, remember? You're on your own here. If you think you're so smart, fine! Stay! He wouldn't help you, so why help him?" With that, the men left.

It was true. Gregorov would never help her in a similar situation. She had done all of her work alone because she knew she could never count on anyone. She worked alone, lived alone and fully expected to die alone. Morosely, she looked back at the crowd. The demon was growing more excited about a possibility of release and seemed to be encouraging the crowd. Gregorov had a slack expression on his face. She sighed and buried her face in her hands. It wasn't her night. Half of the staff had left. Rabe was useless. She had never doubted he was the ivory tower sort who talked the talk but did not walk the walk. Kessler was a possibility, but he would spring to help the Headmaster and leave. That left Gregorov and he wasn't thinking clearly any longer. She knew she ought to follow Wronski's example and leave, but she just could not do it. This was a competition, a duel...

Demons. What were the rules? Summon them in a confined area. Done. Don't let them fool you into releasing them. Maybe. What worked against them? She stared at the table, pushing plates out of the way so she could put her elbows on it. This wasn't her specialty. No money in it, for one thing. Any bozo could raise a demon - look at Gregorov. She stared down at the table, willing it to answer her question and, to her surprise, it did. In the middle of the table sat a small bowl of salt. Vaguely, she recalled that demons didn't like salt. It was supposed to be an anathema to them. It interfered with the summoning rituals and it protected you from them. How much did you need? She pulled her wand out. "Accio salt!" Jones hoped that there would be enough.

Dishes flew off the tables and heaped themselves in front of her. Must be a lot of tables as there was a lot of salt. She dumped the last of the potatoes from a large bowl and started emptying all the salt into it. Almost in time to the clack of the dishes she threw back onto the table, she heard the demon singing. She stopped for a second and listened. Not bad. It could carry a tune and words were rude. Soon, she had emptied the last of the salt into the bowl. Heaving the bowl off the table, she started towards the group of men. She had to shove her way up to the circle. It was clear that the demon had outsmarted itself. It was too riveting. All eyes were fixed on it and no one was moving. It enjoyed the attention, swaying around in its circle. Soon, its back was to Gregorov who was drooling. Jones grabbed a handful of salt and threw it into his face.

He sputtered and turned to fight. "Go. Away. Now."

She flung handfuls of salt over Gregorov who jumped through the wards after her. "Somnus!" She hit Gregorov with her wand as he ran towards her. The floor thudded as he fell to the floor sound asleep.

The demon's swaying dance circled back towards where Gregorov had stood. When she saw the pile of salt, she started to scream and change forms. It was way too loud. As the circle of her admirers looked round to defend their beautiful demon, Jones decided it was time to dump the salt and get out of there. She flung the salt into the protective circle, trying hard to dump it into the circle and not smear it. Her luck held. The demon continued to scream and its form became very unstable. As Jones backed away, she heard the demon yell, "What am I to do? Who will protect me? What is to be done?" The voice had changed from its seductive feminine tones into an ugly, growling sound. Almost to the door, Jones skidded to a stop. The only person who could send it back was snoring on the floor. Even the best circle wasn't permanent. Far too soon, it would be able to break the circle and begin to work on the wards. It was all a matter of time. She really hated doing the right thing.

She ran back to the sleeping Gregorov. The demon's screams had emptied a lot of the men out of the room. Those who remained were running towards the doors. She watched as the Defense professors backed out of the room, forming a shield around the Headmaster. So much for them riding to the rescue. Heiniger was probably the only one who could have helped. Good going Jones. She touched Gregorov's temple with her wand. "Ennervate!"

Groaning, Gregorov rolled onto his back. It was clear that he wasn't a part of the here and now. She gave him a hard kick.

"What? Go away," Gregorov snarled, rubbing his head where he had hit it falling.

He probably feels pretty lousy she thought before she kicked him again.

"What!?"

"Send it back." She pointed at the mutating, screaming demon.

Gregorov lurched to his feet and stumbled over to the demon. He looked at the demon and saw the salt. He touched his face and felt the granules. Recognition slowly lit his face and he nodded at her. "Demon! Belphegor! Return to whence you came. Go! Leave!"

The demon stopped screaming, held its form briefly as the naked woman, said, "Thanks" and left with an audible pop.

It seemed to be over. The room was empty except for the two of them. If she expected any thanks or a flowery speech, she was disappointed. Gregorov looked around at the lack of an audience. "No one saw me banish it. Ah! So much for any recognition of my great work. I need a drink."

"Me, too." She should at least get a drink out of it.

But Gregorov walked out the door, leaving her standing in the remaining gore and salt. She could already hear Wronski. "No team."