0620 hours, Hogwarts Staff Room.


Leyla Naceri had laid in bed since her dressing table clock warbled the morning athan, chewing over the efforts between performing prayers and staying underneath the covers- warm. Warm as she was likely to be all day in the Highlands. There was no competition. By the end of the half hour she had showered, made her duʿā and the two raka'at. By the end of the full hour, she was on her way to the staff room.

The door creaked open noisily as it only does in the morrows and yielded to the rest of the room. Empty with a faint trace of past activity. Elves restocking the shelves? An earlier ghost? Leyla sauntered past the throng of armchairs to the refreshments table and drew her wand.

Cupboards swung open, a kettle whistled musically- her cup came slowly drifting to her and she accepted it with one hand. Tea. A peace came over her face, disturbed only as she glanced over her shoulder at the familiar door creak.

It was the earliest hours of the morning that offered the closest thing to solitude here in Scotland.  Atash had always been an early riser by necessity -- there were some things that were better than sleep -- and his time here at Hogwarts had done little to break him of the habit.  Few of the other professors or students here seemed to be creatures of the early hours, and while he did  not mind the bustle and dramatic outbursts of the Hogwarts staff -- how could he when it accomplished his purpose so well? -- it was sometimes nice to steal a few moments of quiet before the day began.

He had become accustomed to having the staff room to himself this early in the morning, but he had somewhat expected this intrusion.  The quiet woman, graceful in her soft-spoken, exotic manner, had not been the center of attention at the meal the other night, but he had noted her nonetheless: the echo of a memory that was really not so long ago.

"Sobh bekheir, Professor Naceri."  He gave the woman a faint smile, allowing the soft words to roll over the room.  He would never have remembered her by name, were it not for the introductions at dinner; the last time he had known her, she had been a fleeting face in the shadows of the temple, noted but barely remarked upon.  That had been his way of it, then.

But now things were different.  He switched to English.  Though they might share a language, this would be no secret, private exchange.

"I hope that I am not intruding?"  An eyebrow cocked, he peered at her quizzically.  "If you would prefer solitude this morning, I can find somewhere else to prepare my tea."

This was a face she knew.

"Sobh bekeir, Professor Hendurabi." Leyla's lips moved on their own accord and fell into a soft smile of greeting. Yes. This was a face she knew and maybe, she suspected, one she remembered with better clarity than he did recall hers. "Bia too. This is the staff room, I would have remained in the Dungeons if I was bent on solitude."

Also, this was an opportunity. He made no indication of familiarity- except that his greeting, common when she taught abroad, was not one that typically exchanged with those who did not know her roots. The witch gestured with her wand and the kettle began its worn routine, tipping water.

"You will let me oblige you," she offered affably. "Chai kurdi? Or a brew more refined maybe..." she glanced back over her shoulder. From any other it might have been a sharp remark- by Leyla's tongue, it came across as gently teasing.

This wizard had once come to her temple in the Kurdish highlands with intentions that neither she nor the Sufi leaders could appreciate; but that was a long time ago and she bred no ill will against the stranger. That was not her way.

The reply was polite, exact, and warm; it gave him no reason to think that his presence was not welcomed here, although the opposite would not have driven him away.  Atash gave her the hint of a polite smile as he entered the room.

Leyla Naceri.  He had taken little notice of her before, amidst the incense and the candles and the orders that burned too brightly, but that he'd been commanded to deliver.  Compared to the sages and leaders of the Nimatullahi temple, this lone young woman would have been no calculation and thusly no threat.  But quiet though she might have been then, she had still been present at the edges around them -- and now here she was present again, this time in the corridors of one of the most renowned magical schools in the world.

"I would hate to be any trouble," he countered politely.  The faintest of smiles tugged at his mouth as he regarded her expression.  "Though I would hate to think that there is anything more refined than Kurdish tea."

A lifetime before, they'd known his business when he came; they had to.  When he had arrived, they had still gone through the same motions.  An offer of tea, and though the sentiment surrounding it might have been anxious or bitter, the chai then had still been perfectly prepared, without agenda or malice.  That was the way of things; it might yet be the way of it now.

"Congratulations on your recent appointment." He offered the words affably, giving her another smile.  "Hogwarts is a very respected institution, and from what I have observed, its staff exceed even its reputation.  You must be very honored to count yourself among them."