Nightingale never truly did well in a crowd, he swam through the sea of people like a ribbon of glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch. No matter how well he tried to mask his feature he always drew attention to himself, and the whispers never seemed to stop.

That strange Professor. The one without the eye. The one with the moon coloring, and pale face. Winter kissed, his cheeks and nose were forever colored with a blush, but tonight he wasn’t alone. The air was cold despite the crowd, and huddled together outside the tournament goers seemed very aware of the remedy to any fortnight freeze. But it wasn’t the cold that drew him to the Cauldron. No, his attention couldn’t be shaken with alcohol, no matter how badly he wanted it to be.

Darius. His heart pounded at the name, his search so close to being a failure the disappointment was written across his face in a sorrowed sadness that maybe he was too late. What if they had gotten to him first? A gypsy never liked to take a debt to his gave, and no matter how trivial it might have seemed from their childhood. Gale held himself in great gratitude towards the man, and felt he owed him more than just a warning.

Dressed in his normal attire, Nightingale, didn’t do much to stand out, but when the crowd pushed one way he felt himself fighting the current as he was to go the other. Such was the life of an outcast, who never went with the grain, but even now more of a refugee than ever he lowered his eyes only long enough to still his trembling hands and harsh beating heart. He let the music wash over him, the drunken laughter of those around him fill him, and tried to simply breathe as the world fell around him.


With his eyes closed he let his head fall back to swallow the anxiety that rushed from his chest and threatened to take his breath, and suddenly wished that he’d just stayed home. He had replayed that night with Eha over and over again, until her words became a law that he dare not break. He had to find him, had to get to the bottom of what he was in hiding from, and had to help in anyway that he could, without losing his job at Hogwarts of course. However, if it came down to it? He’d suffer that fate should the time come. For now he had an old fried to find, and one more cold November night searching only by the man's name.

"Excuse me." He finally spoke, holding his hands to his chest while a stranger turned to scoff once more. The puff of the air from the stranger's breath reminded Gale of the way ghosts dissipated in his nightmares. He wouldn't out right ask for the man to whom he searched, but he asked in riddles of where he might find someone who had been forgotten. With his back open the crowd, his desperation was growing, and he his guard had been let down for far too long. This was a rule broken by his father's gypsy code.

Never turn a blind eye from a shadow boy. It's haunt ye' in the end.

1.	Lyrics: Mad World by Gary Jules

Darius knew that the man was coming. He'd known for days.

"Good evening, witches and wizards of the world!  This is Basil Rathbone bringing you exclusive live coverage of the second task of the TetraWizard Tournament.  I'm here in Hogwarts Castle..."[1]

The wireless set perched behind the bar drew most of the attention in the room. No one noticed Darius, seated on the edge farthest from door, and no one noticed the slight figure in black and gray that tried to push through them, trying and failing to call attention to his questions. Darius had seen this same man here a few times before, when the crowds were less deep. He'd heard the questions, the riddles that meant nothing to strangers but confirmed for Darius that he was being pursued.

This pale man was not a client. He'd not come to Darius through the Almasy woman, nor pursuing rumors of his expertise. The questions he asked were too personal for that. Too personal for comfort. Darius had surrendered much to earn the meager security he held now. He'd even given up his own face. To be breached at this time, after all that...it was unacceptable.

Slowly, Darius rose from his seat and slipped closer to his pursuer. His uneven legs made stealth a difficult thing, normally, but tonight the laughter and the radio drowned the sounds of his hobbling, while the crowd masked his unusual gait across the length of the room. He caught a glimpse of white hair and fingered the black palm wand in his coat pocket. Perhaps his pursuer was an elder, but in truth it mattered little. He counted the seconds, watching the man's body language and waiting for a moment when his guard would be down. It didn't take long.

Darius snagged the smaller man by the scruff of his coat and dragged him a step backwards, into the sort of hidden nook where young lovers stole their moments together. With the other hand he drew his wand, bringing its tip into the small of pale stranger's throat.

"You've been asking dangerous questions, sir," he muttered, already picking out escape routes lest their altercation be seen. "I believe I am the man you seek. Now tell me why and give me a reason not to curse you where you stand."

1.	http://absitomen.com/index.php?topic=11863.0

If Nightingale was afraid, he did little show it. His face the ever trained porcelain mask that wouldn't shatter easily. It was painted beautifully with a smirk, and the elegance of his victory clearly noted over his brow.

"Good evening to you too." He said without thinking, though standing perfectly still his hands were poised and ready for any of the number of blades he wore. It was a shame how the wizarding world relied so heavily on their power that it was often forgot that beneath all the charms and spells they bled just the same, and no body ever expected it come from the quiet book worm Professor who could hardly say hello without blushing.

"I owe you a debt, Sir. One I gained when I was only eight years old." As he spoke, Gale's quiet voice matched the coolness of his fingers as he came to touch the man's wrist gently, "And I wasn't the one that started asking the questions. I was asked of you, out of the blue by an Auror whose name I will not give until you swear to me you will not harm her."

Gale closed his fingers around the man's wrist, suffering now in this hold, but tried his best to remain calm. He felt his chest tighten around his heart, and a cold sweat break out over his skin. However, it was the flashing of lights in his bad eye that truly made the bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Please let me go." He pulled against the man's hold, but closed his eyes to try and calm.

A...debt?

Darius faltered at that, though his grip returned full-strength when the man spoke of aurors. It could be a trap, but what trap-layer would be foolish enough to speak of their masters? And his words...eight years old, a debt. Darius hadn't so much as laid eyes on a child that young in over eight years. None he'd met before then could possibly owe him anything.

He shifted the weight off his bad leg and peered at the stranger, trying to place him. His hair was white but his face was young, younger than Darius himself, though it couldn't be by much. His manner of dress was distinctive indeed, as was the patch that covered his eye, but Darius did not know them. It must be a trick. Unless...

...The vardo had been ancient when they bought it and was long in need of repair. Inside, a charm provided more space but not more comfort, its gloom still lit by sunlight through its cracks, alighting on the dozen delicate cages that hung inside. He opened one, coaxing the bird -- his beautiful Faigel -- onto his hand. He turned, bringing Faigel down so that his tail feathers brushed the head shoulders of a smaller boy, a perfect match to his pale silver hair...

Startled, Darius released the stranger, who might not have been so strange, and pushed him away without thinking. "Ağ quş?" he whispered, the memory still tickling at the forefront of his mind. The rest of his family called their comrade's strange pale boy ağ dovşan, 'white rabbit,' but to a young and less broken Darius the name 'white bird' seemed more appropriate.[1]

Darius was not a man to be easily taken off-guard. If he was, he would never have survived this long. But this, the appearance of a ghost from his distance past -- the past he'd left for dead in the sands of Israel three decades before -- rattled him, right to the core. It could not be real. He shook himself and raised his wand again, his left hand going for the switchblade he kept in the other pocket as a precaution. "No. It is not possible. Who are you, really?"

1.	FYI: This is all Azerbaijani.

When released Gale turned slowly, knowing never to make any sudden movements around those who seemed as lost as he, and just like Darius' beautiful birds--you had to coax, and comfort before they would come to your palm. He was shocked to find what he did, the man not what he remembered in any way, but Gale wondered through the past as if searching for any sign of what was there before.

The memory came, and with it those little words. Gale watched the realization surface of the stranger like treading water, and he wondered at how long Darius had been drowning? What had happened to the man from before, the boy who seemed so sure of himself, and stuck up for someone who still appeared to be half his size.

"Yes, that is what you called me. After your beautiful birds. Do you still keep them?" Gale smiled at the thought. "My name is Nightingale. My father's name was Kesali, my mother was a whore. I sang after dinner often by the fires, especially when your caravans came. You stuck up for me once, and I dreamed that I'd turn into one of your birds just so I could leave in one of your cages. You loved them so." Gale held his hands together with a nervous energy, knowing he was putting a lot at risk being here, but more so talking to this man.

"But..." He looked between this stranger's eyes, as kind looking as seemed it wasn't the same, and a hurt disappointed look filled the pale silver of his good eye. "Please..." Gale's cold fingers came to touch the man's wrist again to usher the wand from his face. "Please put that away." Lowering his voice to a whisper he looked back up at the man,

"You look so tired, Darius. Even with that mask." Gale had to strain his neck to catch the man's eye, but he did while taking a step closer to continue his whisper, "Let me buy you dinner."

If this man was a liar, he was a very convincing one. Long-forgotten memories appeared with his words, all from that last good summer before everything went wrong. And his voice was gentle. People never spoke to Darius gently anymore. He spoke of the birds, the caladriai, and Darius felt his heart for the first time in eight years.

Cold fingers against his wrist sent a shiver through his entire arm. The black palm trembled in his hand. He sucked air through his teeth and lowered the wand hesitantly, his other hand still hovering over his concealed blade in anticipation of an attack.

"Nightengale." The name tasted foreign. "It has been a long time. A very...very long time."

When Nightengale approached, Darius took a shuffling step back. The chill seem to spread, seeping into his bones. He did feel tired. He also felt broken, deformed, and old. Lingering to close to this feeling and for too long...that was a danger he could not risk. But one meal...that couldn't hurt. Could it?

He cleared his throat. "That would be...yes, all right. But not here." Vulnerability in a crows was too big a risk. "I have a room here. Order, and have it sent up stairs. It will be better there. Yes?"

Nightingale often related his life to the forest in which came to bare him, and in this he would have thought of the cold bitter winter that never seemed to end. Months and months of ice covered desolation that was without the magic of Christmas—the spirit of the season gone, and there was nothing more to celebrate, nothing more to do than hope for Spring. Darian in all his broken way, hidden nature, and suffering, was that little bit of warmth that brought the first flower.

Gale held his breath until the wand was lowered, and though he would never show it his entire body relaxed from the fear that he hid so well. He felt the blood rush back through his veins when Darius repeated his name, and he gave the man a warm affectionate smile.

“Gale. They call me Gale.” A wicked and wild wind, “And it has been too long.” He wanted to curve into the man if only for support as he felt himself grow dizzy with the way his whole body relaxed. In his search he discovered things of Mr. Gabor that could turn the undead, but he refused to believe them until he heard them from the Romani himself.

“No, not here. You are right. Wait here. And show me the way?” Gale moved off to place an order, but kept checking to make sure Darius was still there. He’d cast a spell that would have kept him grounded if he thought it wouldn’t scare the man away, and every time their eyes met he tried to offer a reassuring smile to let him know he was still there. Poor man.

A broken child really, Gale hadn’t discovered what hatred could do until his last few years at Hogwarts, but while in the care of his caravan he had never known such a hateful world. He was cherished, adored, and protected from more than just the winter. He’d grown to love who he was, and where he came from. But in the hands of a Slytherian, and the shadows that came with him they had broken him too. However, waiting at the bar he closed his eyes remembering the way the birds feathers felt on his shoulder, how the laughter of his friend warmed not only his heart but also the entire world around them.

“Do you still have your birds, Darius?” He asked when at the man’s side once more, touching the sleeve of his coat as if to cling to him while passing through the crowd.

The birds again. Darius closed his eyes to conceal the pain that memory brought him. "There is only the one now," he whispered, and pulled his arm out of Nightengale's reach. He had no strayed while the other man ordered, but to be touched so casually was one wall he would not be breaking down tonight.

With his shoulders slouched, instinctively hiding himself near such a noticeable creature, he lead the smaller man up a flight of creaking stairs and down a long, thin hall to the very last door. He fumbled for the key and leaned heavily on his good leg to shoulder the door open, since it tended to stick. The room beyond was really three -- an eating area, a bedroom, and a bath -- none of them large but enough for one man.

Darius tossed the key onto the table and held the door, waiting until Nightengale entered to close it firmly behind them. "Please, sit." He half-turned towards the bedroom and held out an arm, calling, "Faigel. Come."

A few soft notes announced the bird's presence before he appeared. To a caladrius, three decades might as well have been three days, and despite everything they'd gone through in the time since, he was still as beautiful as ever, from his delicate wings to translucent blue tips of his long tail feathers. He landed silently on Darius's outstretched hand and peered at the visitor curiously. After a moment, he turned his eye to Darius and gave a quiet, concerned coo.

"I am all right, old friend. No pain tonight." Darius stroked the bird's head and carried him to the table, taking the seat opposite Gale. It took him a moment of thought to put his scattered memories into words. "My family...our trade was dying all the years I went to school. But my parents told me nothing, not until everything was gone. We were forced to settle. All the bird, we sold. Even Faigel..."

He trailed off. Even after twenty years of scaring, those memories still hurt. He lowered Faigel to the table and faced the ghost of his past once more, his mouth set into a thin, off-center line. "Much has changed, Nightengale. For both of us. I do not know where to begin. You are...a teacher?"

For as long as Darius would allow he held on to his arm, closed his eyes as they moved through the crowd, and until the other man pulled from his grasp he could breathe. But the moment he was released he let go of the air and held it until they were moving up the stairs, and into the room that Darius called his home. The room was plenty big enough he thought, but it missed warmth. It missed all the things he himself thought of when he thought of ‘home’ and how it should be. Gale liked to be surrounded by books, he liked to have old paintings stretched out on the walls, and various fabrics at any given reach. He liked to be sheltered in the arms of the night, with his window open, and face resting on the ceil of the frame.

“They said it wouldn’t take long. I ordered a good hearty stew. A bit of bread, and some cheese. I hope you don’t mind. But I ordered a merlot. I understand if you do not wish to partake. I’m just really cold.” Gale was filling the void with his rambling until the bird made its appearance, and he was stunned silent. Much the same as when he was a child his smile swept his face, and it was the sort that would reach his eyes—a very rare expression that added light where there was only darkness, even beneath the patch. The ugly thing stretched across his otherwise perfect face, and gave the moon a shadow.

’I am all right, old friend. No pain tonight.’

He stayed close to the door, waiting for their dinner, but also for fear of finding himself ‘too much at home’ and pushing the man too far. However, when he spoke to the bird, and Faigel returned the coo Gale smiled again to break their conversation.
 
“As opposed to other nights?” He listened to the fate of the birds, and wondered if it would be best to leave out he thought their feathers were often worn around the necks of Muggles like trophies hanging on the walls. He himself often wore feathers in his hair, but never did he pluck them for sport. No, a Gypsy never took from the earth what wasn’t their to take. Even his wand, wasn’t his to have at all, until he asked. He slept in the arms of that tree that night, and there it was waiting the next morning.

“But you have her now? Sheltering her with love I see.” Gale crossed his arms over his chest to break the chill he felt, and leaned against the door.

It wasn’t long before their dinner arrived, and Gale placed it out over the table in a beautiful spread. Even by way of temporary bowls, and disposable plates it seemed perfectly perfected as if he had been serving this man for years.

“I am a Professor yes. Charms actually. I stayed through school. My family and I lost contact after the Battle of Hogwarts. And I’ve not truly been the same since.” He took his seat again, and opened the bottle of wine carefully. “I didn’t leave with too many scars, just one…well.” A gesture towards his eye, “Just one. But I’m telling you, my mind hasn’t been right. I fake it well. Especially for my students, but…it’s different you know? You must. Here you are.” He looked up shocked that he had even said that, but looking at the man now with his ‘mask’ of another man’s face he had to wonder if there was anything else beneath. He had hope.

“Have you been here long?”

“But you have her now? Sheltering her with love I see.”

Darius's lips quirked into the slightest ghost of a smile. "Faigel is a male, my friend. See here." He gently swept long tail feathers onto the table, so Nightengale could see how their tips tapered into near-transparent blue. "A female caladrius's feathers a violet, not blue. It is the easiest way to tell."

Like the question of his pain, Darius put the implicit inquiry of how he'd retrieved the bird aside for now, instead guiding Faigel to a new perch on the back of his chair so the other man could lay out the food. He did not know what Nightengale would say or do if he knew that Darius had killed a man in order to retrieve his feathered companion. He didn't know what anyone would say, because he'd never spoken of the incident, not even as the trials pinned other murders to his name, one after another.

As Nightengale spoke of Hogwarts and the war, Darius broke bread and offered a bit to Faigel, who took it and fluttered to a more comfortable eating perch on the nearby windowsill. Darius took a bit of the bread for his own and dipped it in his cup of wine, letting it dissolve on his tongue as he contemplated the other man's words. Different...yes, things were different, they were always different, after the turning points. For Nightengale, it was the battle. For Darius, first death, then children. Different turns for different men, but they were turning points all the same. Thinking on that, rather than the things in his long-forgotten past, made it easier to speak when next a question came.

"A year. This time." He took a bit of cheese this time, busying his hands with the food so he couldn't think of all the things bubbling beneath the surface. "I do not stay in any one place for very long. I did quite enough of that in Jerusalem. Never again." That city had been a cage, too small, too stifling. He would not be grounded like that again.

"The last time I touched these shores was...let me think...Seven, almost eight years ago. Between that I spent time in Russia and the Eastern Europe -- Drumstrang territory. But it does not do to linger." He paused, noticing again how Nightengale studied his face, intent, as though searching for something. A hint of the past, perhaps?

"You wonder about this." Darius touched his cheek, no doubt fuller and more twisted than the youthful one that Nightengale remembered. "I could not keep my scars. My face became too well-known. It was a...what is the world...liability. So I discarded it. Polyjuice, imperfectly prepared. It is permanent enough to keep me -- to keep us -- safe."

“Forgive me then,” He smiled to the bird, speaking to him gently, “I’m often confused for a woman too.” Which was very much the truth. When Gale’s hair was down, and his clothes fit his body tightly he was mistaken for a woman nearly every time. When the bird flew away he watched him with a striking intent, admiring him even from afar with a soft smile playing over his lips.

“I never liked to go to Jerusalem. I always found it just the same. There were never enough to trees to keep me sane, and the ocean that we had to cross to get there made me feel like a prisoner.” Gale admitted without thinking and pulled the beef from his stew to put it back in the container that carried it. He was far too content to enjoy the large round slow cooked potatoes and soft carrots for meat to get in the way.

“We didn’t spend a lot of time in Russia, but when I was grown and in school I did. When my caravan disowned me I was taken in by a well to do family there. Kept like a pet really, but they enjoyed my contacts and how I could speak nearly ever language. My summers from Hogwarts I kept my keep by cleaning the estate, and sang during dinners.”

Gale’s face flushed when Darius pointed out the obvious. He did wonder about his face, but didn’t want to draw too much attention to the fact.

“Forgive me. But I do,” He admitted softly and listened to what the other man had to say. He still looked rather handsome in the mask he wore, but Gale wanted to see how Darius had grown.

“It must be why she can not find you hmm?” Gale sat back on his chair, his broad chest exposed as he let a hand hang over the back, “Her name is Eha, and the reason I’m here. Your secret is safe with me, but she seemed so concerned.” And he was such a sucker for a pretty face.

As Nightengale discarded the meat, Darius speared the chunks with a fork, piling them into his dish without either soup or vegetables to get in the way. Something in the region of his intestines gave a painful twist. He suppressed a wince, drowning the pain with a swing of merlot.

"Jerusalem is a prison for all. Those who call it holy are foolish and blind." Perhaps his tone was a bit harsh, but Darius had no love for the so-called promised land. He'd lost too much there and been grounded for far too long. "Russia, though, is better -- a good choice, such as it must have been."

The talk turned to the auror woman and Nightengale's reason for seeking him out. Darius scowled, gnawing on a chunk of meat, feeling quite beast-like in comparison to his graceful guest. "This face keeps me hidden well enough.. And I rarely keep company who would speak with aurors. 'She' would be the one you mentioned before, yes? I do not know the name. I do not know her. Why does she search for me?"

From what little he knew from their childhood, it seemed unlikely to Darius that the other man would go to all this trouble to have him arrested. There were not many rules among their kind, but loyalty was one of them and it bound them together like the bands of a wine cask. Even if it had been decades since their last meeting, and even if Nightengale had been disowned by his family, he would not break that bond.

"What is she to you? A former student?" Darius hadn't frequented Hogsmeade until the Tournament and had no way of knowing how long Nightengale had been at his current post. "A comrade? A classmate? What reason do you have to think that her intentions are sincere?"

"I couldn't agree more. I always felt the city dirty and eerie. And found more sanctuary in the forest alone than I ever did in the Holy City." Gale looked at his plate already regretting the heavy content of the iron that the potatoes absorbed, and he pushed a few remaining around. Darius seemed starved, and that broke his heart. He wanted to reach out to the man, but instead watched the way his beautiful bird moved over the window. Darius would likely run, and he himself needed to stay out of this life at best he could.

"She isn't a former student no. Just some girl I met at a party. I'm not that old, Mr. Gabor." Gale cocked a coy grin at the man, his cheeks flushing a little, "And I'm not certain why she seeks you. Just that it's off duty, and seems to mean a great deal to her. I'll see her tonight, but if you wish I won't let her know where you are. Just that you are safe? She seemed more concerned of your health than anything else, of your wellbeing perhaps. As if you were a father she had once known, or maybe just an estranged uncle I don't know. And I've little mind to get too far into it. She just asked me if I knew you, and I did. Do. And my own concern outweighed the danger of it all." 

Gale watched him a few minutes longer, seeing the pain in his face, and watching him swallow it back with wine. And though any true protector would have taken the goblet from the man, Gale simply filled it back up.

"Is there anything else I can get you or your companion?"

Darius peered into the wine, his own grizzled reflection staring back. He'd gotten used to the mask, but there were still days when he'd stare into the mirror for hours, trying to pick out the parts of him that had once been wild and young. He tried to imagine those features on the body of another, of a young woman, his child. Him. A father, or perhaps an uncle. A relation...no.

"I have no children. No family." He knocked back another long gulp of the wine, wishing it were stronger stuff. He set down the goblet and wiped his lip on his sleeve. "But I am curious why she pursues me, if not for arrest. If it will ease your conscience, friend, tell her I still live. No more."

He gave Nightengale's offer serious consideration before waving off the concern. "No. Nothing for me. But for Faigel..." He looked to the window. The beautiful bird lifted his head and peered at his owner with huge blue eyes, his expression unreadable as always. He fluttered delicately back to the table, his long tail feathers brushing Darius's leg as he nudged the man's shoulder with his head.

"Lotophagi,"[1] Darius muttered, stroking Faigel's feathered neck and back. "I trust you have heard of it? As I understand, the greenhouses of Hogwarts contain a few of the trees. In a few days, their flowers will wilt. Their petals are Faigel's favorite treat."

Lotophagi petals were legal to sell, but strictly regulated, due to their potential recreational uses. Because of that, Darius doubted if Nightengale would even believe him. Faigel did so love the petals. And Darius had no desire to live his life in a dream.

"I have money enough to pay." He would not go further into debt. "If you can acquire them, perhaps we can meet again, and talk further."

1.	Wiki: Lotophagi

"I would like to tell her...yes. That you are alright at least, alive. I think it would ease her mind." Gale went thoughtful as he recalled Eha's face, the sweet way her perfect little lips seemed to flatten with her worry. He wanted nothing more than the please her, and tried his best to not let it show. Yet, when Darius went on about the plants Gale he believed every word. It would please him just as much to see the bird enjoy them, and knew well the other uses. How could he judge Darius for this? He seemed in pain despite the mask, and it broke his heart to think of how much the man had fallen.

"Of course. If it would please Faigel, Sir. I'd happily bring you some. Well..." Gale stood bringing his hands together and shuffled on his feet, "As long as I can acquire them without breaking rules. I can't afford to lose my job." He loved it, and worried more of his sanity than his pocket book should he be let go. Hogwarts kept him together, and appeased his desire for a family.

"Walk me out?" He asked pulling his coat back on.