It was raining slightly as Ignan made his way up to the front of the house. They had been neighbours for almost a year, but this was the first occasion he had actually called upon Madam Donovan. He was only glad their houses were not closer, in honesty, and his visit today was out of politeness.

Musgrave’s break-in and attack of Miranda[1] had not entirely got past their neighbour in January. The aurors had been round to ask if she had seen Musgrave or if she had noted anything unusual beforehand. However, with Ignan barely back in Godric’s Hollow owing to the fact it was term-time, they hadn’t seen each other since the event. Whether their somewhat nosy neighbour had noted Miranda spending precious little time at home throughout February since the incident, he was not sure.

He kept a wary eye out for Donovan’s large dogs as he drew close to the front door and lifted his fist to rap on the door, taking note of how much red there was around him. Spring flowers, early - magically tended undoubtedly - were bedded around the door, and everything was neat. From his own house elf, Gerda, he knew that Donovan also had an elf by the name of Wheezy. The two elves got along fairly well given Gerda’s favourable description in comparison to the elf Wolfgang and Camille had brought with them the past summer.

As the door came open, there was the elf in question, dressed in an embroidered pillowcase, laboured breathing all too apparent.
“Good afternoon,” the Professor addressed the smaller figure, knowing it would recognise him. “is the lady of the house at home?”

1.	24 January 2011 Give Me Your Guiding Hand & Follow My Guiding Hand

Wheezy, true to her name, answered the door while gasping for breath. She gave Ignan a tremulous, gap-toothed smile and a curt nod. Without saying a word, she opened the door wider and waited for him to come in. Within thirty seconds, a large, muscular bullmastiff mix approached Ignan and sniffed him all over, though she didn't bark or growl. She seemed more curious than friendly.

"Who's here?!" Charlie called out from the other room, before letting out a shrill whistle to call the hound to her. The dog gave Ignan one more sniff before making her way back to her master.

The little house elf took a deep breath, and expended far too much effort in a reply. "It's Ignan Storm."

"WHO?!" Charlie replied.

"GERDA'S MASTER!"

A moment of silence.

"Wheezy, lead them into the sitting room." The old witch didn't care to get up-- she had just gotten settled.  Wheezy led Storm to Charlie, before ushering off to grab them something to drink before being asked. She knew the drill.

The witch narrowed her eyes at Storm. Him, she wasn't sure about. Not one bit. His wife, she liked. Though she suspected that the wife was far better than he deserved. Most wives were. "So." Charlie began, "What are you doing here? Don't you have traumatized students to take care of? Security to manage?" She scoffed. "This disgrace never would have happened at Ledesma. And if it did..." She clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap, red nails catching the light.

"If it did, I would not be calling on my neighbors when I should be working."

Inside the house there was more red. Ignan couldn’t help but notice, and suspect wryly that if one asked his neighbour her favourite colour she might reply yellow just to be awkward. One of Donovan’s large dogs approached but left him alone since he paid it no further attention, standing neutrally just inside the front door. He pretended not to hear the elf explaining who he was, and waited for the house elf to show him in.

“Madam Donovan.” The Professor greeted as politely as he could muster. The pair of them had as little to do with each other as possible since Ignan had moved in, mostly because the Professor hadn’t been there for much of the time, and because he didn’t socialise. Charmaine knew Miranda better, but she was staying away from Godric’s Hollow as much as she could since the break-in. Gerda was an almost permanent occupant, which did something to explain why the neighbour couldn’t even recall the house elf’s master’s name.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have traumatized students to take care of? Security to manage? This disgrace never would have happened at Ledesma. And if it did… If it did, I would not be calling on my neighbors when I should be working.”

Ignan sighed internally. This was not the first, and not the last person who would criticise him just for existing since the events of the previous weekend. He remained stood at a respectable distance, not planning on staying long enough to warrant sitting down.

“Very kind of you to enquire on their wellbeing, Madam.” He replied as smoothly as he could, despite an underlying tone of I really don’t give a hippogriff’s arse what you think. “I am here briefly to inform you that Miranda and I are moving to Hogsmeade by the end of the month. As such, my house is going on the market for rent.” He fixed Donovan with a level, blue stare.

"Sit down, stop towering over me!" She commanded, motioning towards a velvety, cushioned chair. Charlie had never been a tall woman, and age had shrunk her. In her youth, she had been small but lean and feisty. Now she felt like skin and bones, joints creaking and her old back injury protesting with every movement. But the fire was still there, and she could see glimpses of it in her grandchildren. That was a legacy she hoped would continue.

Charlie scoffed at Ignan's polite, neutral response. She hadn't asked about their wellbeing, and he knew it. Only a coward would shy away from such criticism. Men. They were short an x chromosome, and the y added nonsense. A recipe for foolishness. Also, he was German. Which meant he likely went to Durmstrang... Which meant that he found himself to be far more important than he actually was.

"You're moving." The witch repeated. "Will your tenants be reasonable people?" Why was she asking him that? Ignan was not fit to determine who was reasonable or useful-- his wife, however, was. She would be sending Miranda a letter and some rum. Or whiskey.

At 6ft2, Ignan towered over the majority of people he met. Still, he had manners, and when commanded to sit by the host, he did not pause long before abiding. He did not intend to stay long, hence not taking a seat earlier. Had the lady of the house come to the door, they might have conducted this conversation in a minute on the doorstep.

“They will be vetted.” Ignan assured Charmaine in response to her query. “It is likely the property will be empty for a short while until suitable tenants come forward. Gerda will visit regularly to ensure all is secure and tended to in the meantime.” Having heard himself identified in respect to his house-elf, he had no hesitation to refer to Gerda by name than by occupation. “Once occupied, Miranda or I will be over to inspect periodically.” Student kidnappings and hospital crises permitting.

Was that enough? Had he said enough? Could he give his leave without it seeming impolite? Donovan always got on better with Miranda, but as the owner of the property, and because his wife was always preoccupied with more useful contributions to society, he’d felt obliged to pay a visit on behalf of them both.

“Given the unwanted guest recently,” Ignan added, meaning the break in from Lawrence Musgrave, “I will apply more stringent wards while it is unoccupied. It would be unwise to let your … pets… stray onto the land.”

Gerda. She was a good house elf-- Charlie liked her. She had a sense of humor. Or maybe she didn't, and the things she said just happened to be funny. Either way, Gerda and Miranda were the best things about the place next door. The fact that the elf would be checking in regularly was a

"Unwanted guest." Charlie scoffed. "Dancing around the point again-- you talk like a politician." She narrowed her dark eyes at him, "Or a lawyer." Neither of whom had any spine. Her expression darkened when he advised her to keep her prize hounds off his property.  First of all-- Xiomara had far too much common sense to stray that far. That was an insult to her dog training abilities. More importantly, the advice to keep the dogs off his land sounded more like a threat than anything else.

"Xiomara has no reason to be on your land-- she's better trained than that." Charlie leaned forward in her seat, not without effort. "Though if anything were to happen to her, I'm sure you're prepared for any consequences."

He would not miss Charmaine Donovan's acquaintance as a next door neighbour. Ignan had known this for months, but he was at least attempting to be polite by notifying her in person. Did he give a crap about her? No, not really. It was definitely time to leave.

"Lawrence Musgrave." Ignan replied flatly, his pale stare levelled at Charmaine, face lacking any sign of interested expression. "Not much better than a dog." There was the shortest of pauses, and Ignan got back to his feet, tea untouched.

"Good afternoon Madam Donovan." He headed for the door.