Chapter 9: Springtime in Dobruja

Marina still doesn't want to see the swans on Lake Bled, but she agrees to a weekend in Dobruja.

The Krums live south of the Danube, south of the rolling fertile Danubian plain, in the foothills of the Stara Panina, in a dacha looking east toward Cape Emine. Marina has never seen such splendor, not well-kept, not up close. For a wizarding home, it is modern, uncomplicated, discreet. So too are Dimitar and Anastasia Krum. Their distinction lies not in their blood status, their connections, or their Durmstrang credentials, but in their careless unconcern for all these things. Their wealth lies not in their starkly understated chateau but in their freedom from striving. Marina has never met two people who seem so at ease in their own skin.

After dinner, after his parents retire, Viktor says, "Wait here." He returns quickly, bearing a package, and her heart sinks, because it's much too big for what she would like it to be.

He is holding a small red plastic box inset with two chunky knobs and a small gray screen.

"What is that?" asks Marina.

"It's an Etch-a-Sketch," says Viktor. "Muggles give them to children. American Muggles, anyway. It took me a long time to get one."

Marina stares at the Muggle gimcrack. "What's the point?" she asks.

"Turn the knobs," says Viktor. She turns the knobs and a rough picture begins to take shape on the screen.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to draw something with a quill?" asks Marina.

"Yes," says Viktor. "Much easier, and much more artistic. I don't know why Muggles bother with these things. I suppose their brains are so addled with longing for magic that they'll take an interest in any roundabout means of doing anything. But this isn't a Muggle Etch-a-Sketch anymore. I charmed it."

He taps the machine lightly with his wand and says, " Marina is 5-foot-7. She has silky dark brown hair, almost black, which she wears in coronet braids. Several curls are escaping on the left side of her face. She has lovely almond-shaped brown eyes, an aquiline nose, and a slender, sensitive mouth. When she smiles, she doesn't show her teeth. No, her face is more slender than that—and there's a freckle next to her right eye—." As he speaks, a portrait of Marina—a surprisingly detailed one—takes shape on the screen.

Marina smiles. She says, "Nice trick."

Viktor says, "Show me what Marina would look like with a short haircut. No, a bob. A bit longer—yes. Show me what Marina would look like if she were ten years younger. Show me what Marina would look like if she were ten years older." The Etch-a-Sketch obeys his every command.

"How on earth did you do this?" asks Marina.

Viktor shrugs. "I have a lot of free time," he says. "Even with the intelligence gig. I really need a job." He says, "I was in England last week, and I went to see George Weasley. He explained to me how the Patented Daydream Charms work. This is a similar concept. The Daydream Charm identifies several crucial elements, and then it builds a story or a sketch around them, making repeated minor modifications until the consumer is satisfied . . ."

"Well," says Marina, "it's a neat toy."

Viktor says, "It's not just a toy." He taps the Etch-a-Sketch and erases it. "Now," he says quietly, "describe Luiza Spiru."

Marina inhales sharply. "You still think—"

"Just give it a try," says Viktor.

Marina describes Luiza Spiru. It's hard work, describing someone she knew slightly, liked little and heeded less, nearly six years ago, but she is astonished by the accuracy of the image that slowly emerges on the screen.

Viktor scrutinizes it. He says, "It looks like a man in disguise."

"So it does," says Marina, who can hardly believe she didn't notice at the time. She must have been younger, less experienced than she realized, at eighteen.

"Take off the rouge," says Viktor to the Etch-a-Sketch. "Remove the earrings. Give Luiza a crewcut. Mmm—not quite so short. Maybe a little beard."

A ghostly ripple of recognition seizes Marina.

"No beard," she says. "Just stubble. Sideburns. Tint the hair brown. A small moustache."

And all of a sudden they're staring into the complacent, gloating face of Education Minister Glad Ursu.

"He hated Stefan," says Marina faintly, after a minute. "Professional jealousy. It was ridiculous—Minister Ursu is the one who's had the grand political career, the one who's reeled in all the gold. Some people think he's going to become the next Minister of Magic. Stefan was just an eccentric old scholar—never had much to do with the Ministry, except in an advisory capacity. It's the most ridiculous, wasteful, infantile—"

"Is it possible?" asks Viktor quietly. "Luiza Spiru was in Professor Dobrega's household for almost a month. Wouldn't people have noticed if the Education Minister had been absent from his post that long? Or do you think he could have combined the two roles?"

Marina shakes her head. "There was an epidemic of vanishing sickness that summer, remember? Glad Ursu was down with it, or so his family gave out. He must have been absent from work for at least six weeks."

"And he cornered Professor Dobrega by the Danube—"

"And Stefan would have been so shocked, when he realized what was happening, that it slowed down his reaction time and prevented him from transfiguring his attacker." Marina pauses. "Stefan was a gentle man, a little old-fashioned, with old-fashioned ideas about women. He spent all his time worrying about Death Eaters, and he always pictured them as male. He would have found it hard to believe his housekeeper was attacking him. I wish," she says, "I wish Stefan had been just a little more worldly. I wish he had known just a little bit more about life."

"I wonder if I can prove it," says Viktor.

"Probably not," mutters Marina morosely.

"I can show the evidence to the head of Bulgarian intelligence," says Viktor, "and we can confront Minister Ursu with it. The identification, at least, is unmistakable. He'll have a lot of explaining to do."

"Yes," says Marina glumly, "but I don't think you'll get a conviction."

"Well," says Viktor hopefully, "maybe at least we can oust him from his post."

Eventually, very late, they both go to bed, but Marina can't sleep. Solving the mystery that has plagued her for five and a half years ought to be a relief, but her mind is working double-time, as one element after another clicks into place. She peers into her future with an unaccustomed, unnerving sense of freedom. At half past four she gives sleep up as a bad job, seizes her wand from the bedside table, and reluctantly whispers, "Alohomora!" She dons a dressing gown and slippers and slips out onto the terrace.

Viktor is sitting silently in a decrepit lawn chair, watching the rosy wings of dawn slip over the horizon.

He turns, and she says, "I couldn't sleep either."

He nods. She walks to the parapet, leans out, and stares into the darkness, in which it is just beginning to be possible to distinguish the shapes of mountains, trees, and buildings. After a minute Viktor joins her at the parapet. He says, very softly, "Move here?"

Marina thinks for a minute. "Cezar too?" she asks.

"Cezar too."

"I'd have to quit my job," she says. "At least the Romanian one."

"You're quitting anyway, aren't you, now?" says Viktor.

"Yes."

"Do something worthwhile," says Viktor. "Write a textbook on wandless transfiguration. Write a memoir of Stefan Dobrega. Figure out how to get the Romanians to sign the International Ban on Duelling."

"Or I could just start a Muggle-news-for-wizards service," says Marina.

"Or that," says Viktor. "Merlin knows we could use it, out here . . ."

They stare into the darkness.

"Slovadan would think it's improper," she warns.

"I'll fix Slovadan," says Viktor. "Do you want a diamond or goblin-wrought?"

Marina lets the moment sink in.

"Or is it too soon?" he asks when she is silent.

"Not too soon," murmurs Marina.

His body is brushing against hers in all sorts of ways that have always frightened her, when it happened before, whether with Viktor or another man, but tonight, in this setting, in Viktor's home, she is starting to enjoy herself, and she doesn't pull away. She waits, with some curiosity, to see what he will do next.

He says, " Marina, is this all right?"

She nods, and he pulls her closer, and she presses against him.

He whispers, " Marina, I love you." It always angered her when her parents said that, her mother especially, in the maudlin intervals between the anger and the silence, but Viktor has earned the right to say it, and she doesn't draw back. She whispers, "I love you, too," so softly that she cannot hear her own voice, but Viktor hears it, and he holds her tight as the sun begins to rise on the Dobrujan spring.