1330 hours, Main Theater


The heavy curtains were drawn open on the main stage, velvet red pushed aside to reveal polished wood.

A small, circular table posed elegantly in the centre. Its white linen gleamed in the soft stage light and appeared in complete indifference to the hundreds of empty seats that observed the stark scene. Strong, decisive footsteps. A woman in a green tweed coat came confidently onstage and stopped promptly at the table.

Ira Almasy reached into her pocket, drawing out a black cigarette as she considered the set coolly. The hall was vast and dwarfed all figures with scope and silence- even the witch, though she thought this place flooded by fond memories. It all came down to that didn't it? Memories.

A dry smile tugged at her lips as she turned her head to light the Sobranie. 

And in that first breath, the doors opened. It was a muted sound coming from the far end of the Stalls. Ira liberated a wisp of cigarette smoke and ran a hand through her hair - a deep, startling red this afternoon. She waited patiently for the guest.

Mihai was disturbed, worried, and frustrated all at once. He was nervous to meet with Ira, but it was necessary. After her veiled threat towards his daughter, he had grown very careful. Letters had been sent to McGonnagal, and now Juni wasn’t allowed to leave Hogwarts on Hogsmeade weekends. She was still angry at him about that,  but he held firm.Her safety was priceless, and losing her was not worth allowing her to have one fun shopping day.

That sounded overprotective, he knew. But Mihai couldn’t just tell anybody about Ira—it would get back to him tenfold. He had learned a long time ago not to mess with her, not to push her. She was a challenging and worthy adversary. She was one of the worst enemies anyone could ever have.

He approached the table and sat down casually, as if this was an everyday sort of meeting with an old friend. “What is so important, that you couldn't wait to see me?” Mihai asked. As nervous as he was, he was doing a good job at not showing it. Zamperia looked her in the eye. He was not interested in lunch, he was interested in information. Information she claimed to have about Juni, or so he assumed.

If he weren't so intent on obliviating her, Ira expected that she would deeply enjoy Zamperia's upfront efficiency.

"Important?" her smile relaxed into something indulgent. "Important to you, maybe." The coat came off in one swift gesture and she draped it across the back of her chair before joining the wizard, blazer sleeves rolled up. Her arms were paler than they needed to be. She folded one leg over the other and flicked the cigarette on to the floor.

Was he strained underneath that mask? A cold light entered her eye but she knew that the bluntness wasn't genuine- he was much smarter than that.

"Your daughter," Ira gestured and crystal flutes materialised at the table centre. "Hogwarts is treating her well, da?" The glasses filled without indication, a sickly white wine. "It must, with jailers so capable."

She was right, of course. This information was more important to him than it was for her.S he was just dangling it in front  of him, like he was her toy. It was disgusting. But… On the other hand, she’d only share this if she had something to gain. What was it that Ira was seeking in return? For him to stop hunting her down? For him to avoid obliviating her clients? What was it? Did he have information that she wanted?

“I prefer red wine myself.” He mused as the glasses filled. However, Mihai made no move to touch the glass.  He figured he’d play Ira's little game. She'd get to the point eventually.

“Yes, Hogwarts is treating her well.” He replied smoothly, “It always has.”

Ira examined her boney hands impassively for a moment, glancing up to give the wizard a withering look at his preference for red.

Anyone else at the theater would have been confused by the exchange- a surrealistic parent/teacher meeting between two persons who obviously hated one another. But there was nobody here. Not a soul, she had assured, as none would even come knowing the morbid events of the winter performance.

"That is good-" Ira considered her nails again and blinked. They sharpened. "- my niece, she also enjoys the school's protection. A curious place." The tone of voice indicated that she was reproachful of the castle walls.

Her thumbnail slipped over to its partner, piercing delicately. "But Juni isn't my concern."

A drop of red appeared and Ira stretched a spindly arm across the table, placing a finger tip along one of the untouched flutes. "I meant your other daughter."

The blood dripped, a dark cloud in Mihai's sallow wine.

His other daughter.

How, how did she know?

Mihai himself barely knew anything of it. His memories were foggy, cut out. All he knew was, that he had another daughter somewhere. The only people who knew were ones who were directly involved.

Ira must have been in contact with someone who was involved in the protection of his daughter, all those years ago.

Still, he did his best to keep his body from showing his shock and confusion. This time, he was not as successful. Mihai’s face had frozen, only for a brief second—but long enough to show that Ira had caught him off guard.

“My other daughter?” He raised his eyebrows and pulled the glass of wine towards himself—he wasn’t going to drink it. That was disturbing, but he swished it around until it was a foggy pink. “And why is she your concern?”

Ira's core had gone tense as soon as she had mentioned the girl- wary of a worse reaction.

Her adversary exercised restraint and it brought an unexpressed wave of relief. The witch sat forward slightly, resting her chin in the angular bend of those whetted fingers. His facade barely slipped but he knew that she saw through it. Da. Now they had his full attention.

"Mihai~" her tone slithered in playful, mocking turns. "You know I dislike secrets, but to keep one from yourself..." Ira's pale brow rose suggestively and she met him in the eye with little pretension. "Are you not- what is that turn of phrase? Are you not dying to know?"

This was the barter and it was a novel one. To threaten the offspring of a target was trite; it was not often that she had the opportunity to entice with identity.

"I am busy in these months to come." Ira broke off their eye contact and sat back, a hand on her knee. "It would benefit us both, niet, for you to forget your obligations in this time?"

For a moment, he considered it—forgetting his obligations. Ones he still owed to his previous job, and ones he was building up now.

Ira, Ira was one who got away. One he couldn’t get to yet. However, that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t affect her. Many of her clients had their memories altered by him. “It seems, Ira..” He said, “That it’s more likely you’re dying to tell me, isn’t it?” Although his voice was smooth, there was a certain harshness to his tone. Mihai leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Which obligations are you speaking of, specifically? I have so many, you can’t expect me to know which ones you’re referring to.” Actually, he knew. He just wanted to hear her say it. With Ira, one could not be too careful.

He was willing to play.

Ira reached for her glass and allowed her fingers to rest gently on its stalk, barely touching. The wizard necessitated specifics because he accepted- better than many clients - that the devil was in the detail. You could live and die between the lines of a contract. Remember and forget.

"I know who she is and it is enough reason for you to want to know," she drew the wine closer but did not partake. "But you... you are correct." Ira deliberated over the man across from her quietly.

There were few people to fear; few who knew who she was beneath the outward glamour of elegance and hubris. Even less who had both capacity and reason to take it from her.

"Six months-" she would offer him précisément. "- for her name. Forget your obligations against me and any that arise against my niece. A paltry price, would you not say?" Her offer was veritable: more had been bartered for less, in the past.

His jaw tightened. Mihai was not comfortable or happy with the length of time she gave. At least she didn’t want him to forget it forever. He would have preferred six days. Six months, however, would give him plenty of time to prepare.

“Six months from today. From now, until August third at—“ He glanced down at his pocketwatch, “Is two o’clock PM fair? From now, til then, I will forget any obligations I have towards you or your niece.” What was Ira planning to do with Raine? What was she grooming her niece for? Part of him was very concerned—but he had to remind himself that Raine was none of his business, as long as she did not affect him directly.

He felt like Ira’s offer was fair. He could do a lot with a name.

And maybe hearing the name would help him remember. 

“It's time for you to share what you know. Who is she?” He asked, scooting his seat away from the table, ready to leave.

A smirk slithered along her lips, diverted by his exactitude.

It would seem that precautions may need to be taken when their term expired. Zamperia was the snake who wouldn't be beaten down: an arrogant attitude, which she knew had changed little over the years. Only a child could temper that mind and even then not for long.

"August the third," she repeated and closed her eyes with near-serenity. "Two in the afternoon. Da."

The empty seats in the theater hall could have been brimming to capacity now, gazes calmly transfixed on the stage they occupied. But not all things require an audience... many precluded one by necessity. Her eyes opened to the wizard's face - he was eager to be away. This was a man of his word by reputation and character.

To break their agreement would ruin both.

"Disappointing, your brood." Ira remarked casually, patently enjoying her drawn-out hold on his attention. "You must tell me some day if I have pronounced it correctly: Obderedria Pienas ."

The agreement put a heavier weight on his shoulders than he expected, and even knowing the name of his potential daughter didn’t do anything to alleviate that pressure. Unfortunately, that name didn’t ring a bell. It was going to be a challenging one to remember. “Obderedria Pienas.” He repeated to himself out loud, though the voice in his head was saying her name over and over. With such an odd name, finding her shouldn’t be too difficult. Now, he needed to be careful with how he approached it. He needed to be tactful—and showing up unannounced in front of the girl and claiming to be her father was anything but.

"Disappointing, your brood."

Mihai was a prideful man, and that pride extended to his family. To him, they were anything but disappointing. He took such remarks as a personal attack, even if they weren’t meant to be.

He stood up and raised the wine glass to his lips, tilting it slightly as if he was about to drink it—but then he paused.

“This meeting was lovely.” Mihai said darkly. “But, you would find it in your best interest not to call any child of mine disappointing.” He didn’t even have to think. With a smug smirk, Mihai threw his wine glass at Ira and turned away, not bothering to see if it hit or not. (He so hoped that the wine left a mess she’d have to clean up)

Zamperia pulled out his wand, and with a flick and a loud cracking noise he was gone.

Ira flinched, turning her head.

The glass skimmed the outline of her jaw and fell to the stage floor with an unmistakeable crash. Cold droplets of the vintage leaked down the witch's neck. Mihai Zamperia had left quickly: wise of him. She pushed her chair back and stood to full height, as she wiped away the trickle with a discerning finger.

"Reckless man," Ira hissed into the vastness of the empty theater. His weakness for family was both bane and a boon. Grimacing, she lapped at the ruined wine on her hand. It was sweet with the underlying, familiar flavour of ichor.

A waste of good drink.