Page 248 of A University of Betrayal

The wooden floorboards were a cool, matte dark brown, the walls were made of gray or olive-green painted concrete, matching the fabric of the seating furniture. The wooden furniture, black and elegant, in the same elegant Victorian style as the banister of the staircase and as the furniture on the second floor, where the sleeping area and my work space was located.

The wood of all the vintage furniture was engraved with patterns or carved out with floral shapes, and the countless bookshelves were filled with my collections from the local antiquarian bookshop or old scriptures that I had brought back from my expeditions through Europe. Just like all the other souvenirs between the black candles and books, which were scattered everywhere and already piled up on the table next to the olive-green velvet armchair by the fireplace.

Under normal circumstances, I was very organized, but in the last few weeks, everything had changed.

The house was full of plants, some of which even grew out of the shelves and past the dark olive-green floor-length velvet curtains of the window, which were pinned to the side with gold cords. Some plants grew wildly out of the built-in holders for plants on the bookshelves.

In combination with the dark furniture and the old iron chandeliers, the birds of paradise flowers, bonsai, philodendrons, and many other plants created a dim atmosphere that – especially on evenings by the fireplace or when I worked by candlelight at my desk – gave me the feeling of living in my own world.

My kitchen was my second favorite place in the house. It was adapted to the style of the interior, with high ceilings, a spacious work area, and old-looking, modern, refurbished black wooden furniture that was also carved. The furniture against the walls had doors with glass windows decorated with iron ornaments.

I quickly packed everything into my leather shoulder bag before leaving the house.

A stone staircase, decorated with large stone balls and stone pots for further plants, which every house here had, led me down to the gravel path.

The house itself was nestled in a picturesque setting, surrounded by old trees, as if it were part of the forest. Its characteristic façade showed visible half-timbering, already infested with ivy and tendrils on the lower façade. The protruding windows, adorned with leaded glass, cast soft shadows on the stone cladding, enveloping the house in a timeless elegance. It had a steep roof with carefully laid black slate roof tiles that shimmered in the sunlight, as well as towering gables and a massive oak door made of fine wood.

Comedy Funny Music

Gold-Tiger

I hurried along the gravel path through the small grove, but I didn’t get far before something bright trotted across the path in front of me.

A dog.

Ten feet from the small creature – which on closer inspection turned out to be a golden retriever puppy – I stopped, looked around for a possible owner, but only spotted a married couple of professors who lived three houses down from mine. They had three aggressive cats that had chosen my window,of all places,to either scratch out their eyes, hunt ravens or mate loudly in front of it at three in the morning.

Sighing, I turned back to the puppy.

The little one spotted me and came trotting over, but it was only at this moment that I noticed that he was limping.

He sniffed at my shoe, then looked up at me and sat down, only to tilt his head.

“Hey, little guy...” I said, squatting down, scratching his warm chest and letting him lean against my hand. “Did you get lost?”

He tilted his head again.

Someone could have abandoned him, and once the thought entered my mind, it was too late. Sympathy spread in my chest and I lifted the dog’s paw. Blood was sticking to the velvety fur.

“What did you do?” I sighed, cursing the people who would abandon a helpless puppy inBlairville,left to survive on its own. It reminded me of my second foster family...

My jaw tightened, and I pulled the dog up, but he wriggled.

Maybe I was wrong, and he had simply broken out, but I couldn’t leave him here alone. Not like this.

The wriggling became more intense, probably because he was in pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, took out the syringe, which was actually dosed for a fully grown human, and injected the dog with an eighth of it, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

He lost consciousness within five seconds.

It was the only way I could take him with me, even though I didn’t know what to do with him. Out here, he was food for what lived in the woods. And, the way his leg looked, he wouldn’t get far.

The Room of Hidden Things

Alexander Horowitz, Hogwarts Legacy

The dog had slept in my bag during the Greek mythology seminar and my colleague, Sarah, had almost discovered him if I hadn’t pulled the bag under the table in time.

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