He smiled a little, pleased that they both shared the morbid experience of having been woken on dark nights by the strange songs of Erklings looking to lure children away. "But better them than the vampires," the older wizard remarked and Sylvain glanced up from his coffee, curious. Vampires were dangerous and alarming beings indeed, when left unchecked. They often looked so similar to regular wixes and you could not blame a person for forgetting what it was they fed upon.

            "How does one specialise...breed them... more conservation...can take on trolls can’t they?”

"They can and they do," he replied, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Some are even ridden and tamed by the trolls. There is no easy way to facilitate the breeding of such dangerous beasts, my work was in conservation but..." Sylvain trailed off as he pulled his words together and took another sip of coffee. "It was my aim to sustain an environment in which the Graphorns could reproduce, and to observe behaviour."

The French Ministry had paid him well for his written observations, as had the British Ministry who commissioned him independently with specific requests about Graphorn conservation. "Sometimes there are poachers. Foolish wizards, many die every year," he added with a shrug.

Graphorn hide was very valuable but not worth the price of human life. Sylvain had collected one or two himself, from creatures who died of natural causes or otherwise. More often than not he would find the corpse of a person and not a Graphorn.

"But tell me," he could not shake off his curiousity, "you have had experiences with vampires?"

“I have.” Professor Storm confirmed. “Do not let it surprise you that I am qualified for my subject.” There was the hint of a dark smile across his greyer-than-usual features.

“The most civil encounter was the one I invited in to speak to the students[1] this time last year. Madam Islington, runs a magazine of some sort.” He wasn’t the sort to read a fashion magazine, and the detail of every young witch hanging on to Islington’s every word of style advice wasn’t useful colour to the account.

“Hunting them isn’t illegal everywhere. In the past there were far fewer restrictions in mainland Europe. It went both ways, they were far more a pest that could turn plague unchecked. That Christmas day body the Prophet reported - that was a normality for some remote muggle populations as new moon approached.”

He lifted the mug, a necessary punctuation to the account. His recent ailment dried the mouth somewhat when telling stories. Something Ignan did not ordinarily partake in unless the mood struck him. There was something apt about the cosy setting of Sylvain’s hut with the fire that leant itself to this. One should always tell stories around the fire.

Hell, he wasn’t warming to the Frenchman was he? Perhaps the fever had returned.

1.	17th January 2011 Voice of a Vampire

             "Do not let it surprise you that I am qualified for my subject."

A laugh escaped him, even if only at the unlikelihood of Ignan being unqualified for his subject. Sometimes Sylvain felt that nothing could possibly surprise the older wizard - between a long life, lived well, and the happenings at Hogwarts, no doubt he had seen more than his fair share of evil? And, one hoped, of good? One should always hope.

To hear of vampires spoken as part of a different era sobered Sylvain's good humour slightly. "Oui," he agreed, "that incident over Christmas, a grim business. Even the vampire at the Ministry, Monsieur Vaillancourt, I am told he is keen to discover the murderer. It reflects badly on them in this society, where they are trying to make their homes as equals."

A difficult climb, no doubt. Wizards still held beliefs that condemned the validity of halfbloods and muggleborns; they were in no great hurry to embrace undead beings..

"I admit, I much prefer the company of beast to such beings." Sylvain shrugged, lifting his mug to drink. "They wear a mask of civility and I do not know what they hide behind it. But then," he added with a shy smile, "the same might be said of wizards and witches too."

“Very astute,” the Deputy Headmaster agreed with the analysis of his fellow teacher. Sylvain was going up in his estimation. It did rather help that there was a table between them, and Onuris didn't feel the need to clap a hand on a shoulder or attempt to embrace him. While Ignan had never ever really kept an animal (save for necessity at times), he could concur with the suggestion. The cat which had made itself at home in their Hogsmeade cottage appeared to hold no ill intent other than to occasionally claw furniture for attention or food. Either way, cat and Onuris both had different opinions on personal space than Ignan Storm.

“I would pose all but the most magical and sentient of beasts are not capable of hiding with mal-intent.” Ignan suggested, eyes narrowed in thought. “Their attacks on us are instinctive and protective.” If one blundered into the garden or living room of another human, unannounced and uninvited, their species would also become irate and even violent. They were all animals in one sense or another.

Yet, here he was supposing with an expert. “You may correct me.” He added softly, yielding unusually for the older man. If he had spoken similar to students, it would be to dare them to disagree. This morning, he didn’t have the energy to debate with someone on their specialism.

The subject drifted from vampires, which was lucky as Sylvain did not always knew where he stood with them - his interactions with Vaillancourt had never been particularly deep. It disturbed him that anyone could be over a hundred years old and look like the consultant vampire instead of... well, instead of something more similar to Ignan.

            “I would pose all but the most magical and sentient of beasts are not capable of hiding with mal-intent."

Sylvain smiled a little at being given permission to disagree. He reached for another madeleine and clicked his tongue at Marcel, who hopped up from under the table and snapped his jaws around the pastry when it was thrown.

"I think there are exceptions, depending on a person's definition of mal-intent," the Frenchman reached down to scratch his dog's ears affectionally. "Some may describe acts of mischief as mal-intent, non? And many creatures are mischievous. But I agree that a certain brand of malicious behaviour is reserved only for the more sentient."

His experience with Sphinxes and Merpeople brought him to that conclusion; he was brave but he was not so brave as some of his fellow handlers, who specialised in those beasts.

"Still, we beings are not too bad eh?" Sylvain's smile broadened at the older wizard. "At least we enjoy each other's company."

“At least we enjoy each other’s company.” Onuris suggested, meant innocently as far as Ignan could tell. Merlin, he was even smiling at him. The professor could count the number of people on one hand who smiled with ease at him. The rest did it with a certain uneasiness, which was entirely justified.

Unable to bring himself to speak a word of agreement, Professor Storm fumbled an awkward toast of polite agreement, and covered his shudder with a cough. If he didn’t find something to seriously disagree on with Professor Onuris in the near future, they were at severe risk of establishing some form of friendship just as Tapendra once had. Ignan didn’t make friends.

Inwardly, he made a mental note: restore balance of world by hexing a least a dozen students at earliest opportunity.

Outwardly, witnessed by no-one but Onuris, Professor Storm attempted a smile.




End