Johann Storm muffled a yawn behind a pale, long-fingered hand. It was a bright, sunny day in July of 2001 and the extended family had gathered in Hanover at his Great Uncle's house, which was a popular venue for the space it provided. Johann was 25, and had been obliged to join his boasting family for a gathering, something which happened at regular intervals, the last having been at new year. His great uncle's house was outside of the town and afforded some space in the garden, which was filled with the family, dotted around in groups that talked too loudly, and the occasional argument.

It was like this every time, and despite the differences between different relatives, and the competition. Meeting up to play happy families was just an excuse to try and outdo the other relatives. He could remember being pulled along by his father in the early 1990s, moved from one approving relative to the next to recount his exam grades and status at Durmstrang, with approving nods and a very proud father patting his shoulder. For all his father's pushing and furthering his only son, it had been moments like that when Johann had believed properly that his father was proud of him.

Speak of the devil, Johann thought, as his father approached him with a grin, explaining his latest tidbit of information from the extended family in relation to investments. Despite not working for the bank like his parents, Johann was all too familiar with the terminology and goings on from being raised amongst it all, and nodded along approvingly.

"Ah, now, there's someone here you should talk to." Wolfgang changed the subject, gesturing with his wine glass over his shoulder with a sly grin. "White hair, sat at the table on his own, that's your first cousin, Ignan. You probably don't remember him, haven't seen him here in a decade or more. Been avoiding us."

Impressive, Johann had thought, it was hard to say no to coming to a family gathering without being talked about with disgust ever after. His eyes slid past his father to a long nosed, white haired wizard who was staring at the likes of Thorben, Johann's young cousin, who were regarding the older wizard with curiosity. He looked a little tired of it all, unwilling to get up and talk with the rest of the family, who were somewhat ignoring him for the lack of effort.

"The same Ignan who my Great Uncle tells stories about in the Black Forest?" Johann asked.
"The very same." Wolfgang confirmed with a nod. "Merik's got him a job at Durmstrang for September, spellworks." Johann saw his father's eyes look over his son's shoulder, and glanced back, following the gaze to see his mother beckoning. Father and son exchanged a curt nod, and Johann was left alone again, apart from one of the house elves which crept up beside him with a bottle of wine to refill his glass.
"Can I borrow that, actually?" Johann asked it, never one who particularly spoke ill towards elves, rather more mild mannered than his father was to theirs. The elf gave up the bottle, and Johann studied the label a moment before making his approach.

"Ignan is it?"
The white haired man looked up, surprised, and narrowed his eyes slightly against the sun, studying Johann's face with interest. He seemed a little apprehensive.
"Johann, Wolfgang's son." Johann put the bottle of wine on the table, and extended a hand, which was shaken.
"You looked more like that, last I saw you." The older man gestured towards the younger members of the family who had now headed off to have their own fun elsewhere, now that Johann had interrupted their stares.
"I admit I only know of you for the stories. May I?" Ignan gave him a nod, and Johann installed himself in the seat next door, refilling Ignan's wine glass.
"Which stories?" The older wizard asked. His German accent wasn't quite as harsh as others around them and it made Johann curious. Hadn't his late Great Aunt Amelia been English…?
"Dark wizards in the Black Forest." Johann grinned, "Great Uncle Merik does love to tell them, though I've noticed the number of Voldemort's men increase each time."
"Sounds about right." His newly acquainted relative sounded defeatist, and Johann, undeterred, tilted his head.

"My father tells me you're going to teach in September. Spellworks. Have you just retired from the Ministry?"
"I retired from there a long time ago." Ignan shook his head, "But yes, I am going to teach. Apparently. Why, what do you do?"
"This and that." Johann replied dismissively, "Went travelling after Durmstrang, came back a year or two ago. I deal with languages mostly, and documents. You travelled though, know any good stories?" He asked, "Could do with hearing something new. Getting rather tired of hearing my relatives lie through their teeth to outdo each other." He lowered his voice and smiled, "You don't strike me as the sort. You're tired of it too."

Raising his wine glass to his lips, Ignan drank a healthy sip, his eyes meeting Johann's. Little did the younger man know, but this request would put him in good stead, about eight years later, on a cold winter's night in Hogsmeade.

"Where would you like me to begin?"