It was only mid-afternoon, but it felt like it should be much later then that.  After a morning polo skirmish and a lunchtime Cellular Biology study session with new classmates, Sasha was feeling the loss of a now-gone, leisurely summer holiday.  He wasn't sure if the appropriate question was how he'd managed his previous work load or how he'd so quickly adapted to a the rhythm of a relaxing summer but one of those questions applied.  He really wanted to escape to quiet of his flat back in Cambridge but, after a long week of negotiating muggle classrooms, muggle classmates and muggle dining halls, Sasha had retreated to Hogsmeade. 

Because nothing said adult wizard more then sitting in the Hogshead on a non-Hogsmeade weekend.  As much as he'd tried to convince himself that going to Cambridge would be just like going to Hogwarts, just in reverse, he'd discovered he was quite wrong.  After a nearly magic-free week, he needed a dose of adult wizard to go along with his very muggle studies. 

He'd intended to focus on revising the past week's notes, though doing so had required a few unexpected extra steps.  Sasha was far from unfamiliar with Muggle technology, of course, but even he was surprised at how technologically-integrated muggle classes were.  He didn't remember there being so many powerpoints and recordings and digital content when he'd been in primary school and, of course, his years of 'home schooling' at Hogwarts had been entirely paper-based.  He hadn't even had the benefit of a calculator while preparing for A-Levels.  Even most textbooks were now digital and it had taken a few extra steps to even prepare for studying in a disconnected wizarding world. 

Luckily, he'd managed to remember to print out his class powerpoints and grab the printed-version of his textbooks before heading to the wizarding village. 

As a general rule, patrons of the Hogshead tended to keep more to their own then at The Three Broomsticks, so Sasha had chosen that for a study spot.  He sat at a table by the window, a beer off to one side, as he hunched over his notes.  The lemon hooked up to wires and an analog voltmeter at the corner of the table caught the occasional curious glance but, for the most part the other patrons left him in peace.  But, when the shadow of a passing patron lingered for a few minutes by his table, Sasha glanced up from his notes. 

"'Allo," Sasha offered, glancing around him to see if the other tables had filled up while he'd been engrossed in his work.  "Are you looking for a seat?" 

Aviad half suspected that the crowd in the Hogshead was there solely to increase his own annoyance. 

Normally, he would have turned around and left if the circumstances didn't fit his liking, but finding a place to grab lunch with Tzippori on his shoulder wasn't easy, even in a magical village.  The stupid bird-brained skeleton had been restless the past few days, tearing the room he rented apart if he left it alone for more than a few minutes.  The last straw had come the day before, when it had managed to get into a collection of Glumbumble-wax candles that Aviad had been saving for a particular summoning ritual and squashed them all flat with its beak.  Furious, he had seriously considered smiting his skeletal familiar in retaliation, but since he wasn't sure how the spell animating Tzippori would react to disintegration, he had finally decided to spare it.

Considering how many other expensive ingredients he had tucked away in his quarters, as annoyed as he was with it, Aviad had deemed it too risky to leave Tzippori at home again.  And so his familiar had gotten its wish: at least for one day, he had allowed it to escape its sometimes-prison and tag along with him on his errands.

But now, he was stuck with a plate and mug in his hands, nowhere to sit, and a horrendously annoying animated toucan skeleton on his shoulder, which wouldn't stop trying to preen his right ear.  Grumbling under his breath, Aviad wove his way between the tables, wishing that he could just hex someone out of the way.

When the voice spoke up, he didn't even look to see who had offered him a place to sit. 

"Yeh, thanks, brother," Aviad replied quickly.  He set his plate with a slightly greenish-looking pasty down on the table.  Giving a hard flick to Tzippori, which had been experimenting with sticking its beak up his ear canal, he dropped into the empty chair, taking a long, long swig of the ale in his mug to re-fortify himself.

It was taking a concerted effort on Sasha's part to avoid staring at the skeletal bird roosting on the newcomer's shoulder.  Still, even with that effort, he couldn't entirely avoid glancing up repeatedly as he slid his books to the side to give the wizard some room.  However, Sasha figured the wizard had simply been looking for a seat and he doubted the man was interested in a rubbernecking looky-lou while he ate, so Sasha made an honest effort to fully return his attention to his own work. 

He took a sip of beer before picking up his ballpoint pen and turning back to the printouts.  Historically, gross comparisons of physiological traits were the primary strategy for determining evolutionary inheritance.  The addition of genome sequencing has illuminated some-

Despite his best intentions, Sasha couldn't resist looking up, again.  Magic was so weird.

"I'm sorry.  I don't mean to interrupt your meal but, do you mind if I ask?"  He gestured with his pen towards the former bird.  So many questions ran through his head, the most prominent being whether the bird had been dead when it became skeletal.  The thought of reanimating the skeletal remains of a dead bird was disconcerting in itself (especially for one who'd come ever so close to performing necromancy) but it was infinitely worse to consider that someone might have stripped a still-living bird of all of its flesh.  But, Hey, did you torture that bird and use magic to keep it alive hardly seemed a successful way to strike up a conversation with a stranger.

So, Sasha sifted through the runner ups on the list of questions. 

"Are you controlling his actions, like a puppet?"  He wrinkled his nose at what seemed like it should have been an obvious question.  The fellow seemed annoyed by the bird's interest in the contents of his ear and who would intentionally annoy themselves with an animated skeleton?  "I mean, without a brain or nervous system, what's guiding his behavior?"

Fortunately, the pasty only appeared to be green on the outside.  Unfortunately, when he picked at the flaky crust with his fork, it broke apart to reveal a completely unappetizing, sludge-like filling inside.  Sighing loudly, Aviad eyed it with extreme distaste, fervently wishing he had taken the time to incinerate his familiar instead of bringing it along after all.

Also unfortunately, it appeared that his table-mate hadn't gotten the owl about the Hogshead being a place where mages went not to be bothered.  Of course he'd end up sitting next to the only kid in the entire place that thought that sharing a table meant that he wanted to start a conversation about his bird-brained familiar, thus negating his entire reason for slumming it in the first place.

Even though it had no visible ears, Tzippori seemed to perk up at the unwanted attention.  It removed its beak from Aviad's ear and tilted its head to the side, angling first one eye socket and then the other in the kid's direction.

Aviad rolled his eyes.  If he could control the undead toucan like a puppet, that would simplify plenty of problems in an instant.

"If only," he grumbled.  "No, it guides its own behavior.  Plenty of things can think without a brain," he added, jerking his shoulder to try and throw the skeleton off balance.  Unfortunately, Tzippori was too used to his tricks.  It dug the bones of its feet into his shoulder like talons, stretching out its skeletal, featherless wings as if trying to keep its balance.

Sasha couldn't resist a sympathetic grimace as the other tentatively opened his pasty and revealed the wholly unappetizing contents.  The man's universal disappointment was readily palpable and Sasha couldn't find any reason to blame him.  It was times like these that Sasha was grateful for opting against meat; it gave him a convenient excuse to practice discretion when considering ordering food at questionable venues.  Except when the dining hall gives you the wrong sandwich. 

Which ...

"They messed up my order at school."  Oblivious that the man's annoyance was directed at more then just the food, Sasha opened up his bag and tugged out a waxed paper-wrapped bundle.  "It's pastrami and havarti," he explained as he set the package in the middle of the table.  Somewhere, presumably, some very disappointed Cambridge student was opening up his butter and veggies sandwich.  "I won't be eating it.  You're welcome to it, if you'd like it."  It had to be a better alternative to what the other wizard had in front of him. 

Having an empty eye socket peering, deliberately, at you was a mildly unsettling experience.  Sasha averted his gaze, quickly, using a quick glance at the voltmeter as a convenient excuse.  But, the flapping of wing bones drew Sasha's attention back as the wizard tried to unsettle the bird.  "I suppose the concept of thought is ... open to interpretation."  Another potential question.  Muggle physiology assumed thought was a product of the cerebrum.  It would be an interesting question to explore. 

"Do you mind if I ask - how did you do that?  Presuming, you're the one that did it?" 

Aviad was not one to consider himself to be easily bought off, but the offer of something edible was almost enough to win him over.  He raised his eyebrows, eyeing the kid for a moment to make sure he was serious, and then shrugged, reaching for the proffered sandwich. 

"Thanks, brother," he said -- if not cheerfully -- than marginally less annoyed than he'd been a few moments before. 

In return for lunch, he'd even happily tolerate questions about Tzippori.  Aviad angled his elbow at the table, shrugging his shoulder to encourage the skeletal toucan to dismount.  His familiar didn't need much encouragement.  At the first shrug, it hopped onto the table, walking pigeon-toed over to his lunchtime companion.

"It was a spell," he said unhelpfully, before taking a bite of sandwich.  He began to chew, not waiting until he had entirely finished swallowing before speaking again.  "Ritualistic magic." 

The skeleton was peering up at Sasha, twisting its skull first to one side and then the other, as if inspecting him with both eye cavities. 
Aviad rolled his eyes at it, and then swallowed fully.  "Except it worked a little too well," he added sourly, his words short and clipped.  "Now the cursed thing won't give me a minute's peace.  So I would think twice before trying it yourself, brother.  At least a living familiar crosses over at some point."

Sasha watched, with undisguised curiosity, as the skeletal bird waddled its way across the table towards him.  Even after seven years in the wizarding world, he was still routinely running into things that amazed and dumbfounded him.  This animated toucan was bright, shining example of that.  He bent over slightly, to peer into one hollow eye socket and straight back out the other one on the other side as the bird swung its head. 

The other's initial, vague explanation was met with a simple nod from Sasha.  A spell, of course, seemed obvious.  Potions, alone, could do a lot of things but something this complex seemed a bit out of the reach of an individual brew.  The elaboration, however, elicited a little more of a reaction.  Sasha glanced across the table before resuming a more appropriate, upright position.  Hogwarts' curriculum only barely touched on ritualistic styles of magic.  Though some of what Sasha knew of it could be attributed to the Ministry-approved curriculum, most of it was the result of Malvivicus' private or delegated tutelage as well as Sasha's independent (though, again, Malvivicus-supported) research. 

Sasha cast a cautious glance around the pub just to verify there no one was in a position to eavesdrop and that there still were no familiar faces.  Not that he was expecting such.  "Like the ingredient preparations for necromancy?  Or, the ... whole process itself?" Sasha asked.  It wasn't the topic one typically broached in the company of strangers but, generally, the company of strangers didn't preempt such a topic with a walking, clacking skeletal bird. 

He turned his attention back to the bird and fished a grape out of his lunch bag before, after a quick glance at the bird's ... owner ... handler ... killer ... keeper ..., placed the grape on the table in front of it. 

Despite the stranger's warning (or perhaps because of it), Sasha could see the appeal of such a spell.  A familiar that would never age, never die and stay with you forever.  Sasha generally did his best to ignore the fact that Baldur was now nine years old and going on ten.  That inevitable loss was going to be devastating. 

But, no.  Breeding puppies from Baldur and creating a line of Baldur-descendents was, undoubtedly, a much more reasonable approach then this. 

There was another much better potential application for this type of magic.  "Would a modification of this spell be possible?  Would you be willing to talk me through it?  You see, I'm planning a haunted house ... castle ... for Halloween.  And, this would make for some wicked decorations." 

At least the kid was keeping Tzippori occupied, and thus resulting in him finally getting a minute's peace to eat.  Aviad dug in with relish, trusting that having his mouth full was enough of an excuse to avoid answering his tablemate's questions for a moment.  Most people were either horrified by the skeleton or followed Aviad's lead in mostly ignoring it.  It had been a while since he had had to field so many direct inquiries about how it had been created, a topic that he didn't particularly want to talk about.

His skeletal familiar, meanwhile, seemed thrilled with the attention.  When the kid placed a grape on the table, Tzippori hopped over to it, peering at it with one empty eyesocket, and then snatching it up with its beak, tilting its head back as it choked it down through its throat in one gulp.  The grape dropped out of the bottom, where its esophagus and crop might have once been, and tumbled back onto the table, rolling slightly away from the bird.  Seemingly annoyed, Tzippori snatched the tiny fruit up again, only to have the process repeat a second time. 

Aviad snorted, perfectly content to let this drama continue to play out endlessly as he ate, when the kid posed another question.  He blinked, peering at the other wizard over the top of his generously-given sandwich.

He knew about Halloween -- sort of like Purim, but with more spooks.  Aviad eyed his tablemate for a moment, considering.  The kid didn't really know what he was asking for -- but then again, the kid clearly didn't know what he was asking for.  And even if he was eating his lunch here at the Hogshead, he was clearly an upstanding member of the magical world.

"Depends," he said, flashing the kid a sharp grin.  "Am I invited too?  What kind of party are you throwing?" he asked, easing back in his chair to study the other wizard.  "How many guests?"

Sasha watched with open fascination as the skeletal bird made continued attempts to ingest the grape.  Despite all the years spent in the wizarding world, situations like this continued to fascinate him.  And, in many ways, it was that very fascination that was driving his academic curiosity.  The ease with which the wizard accepted the bird's ability to think without a brain simply illuminated the mismatch between basic fundamental understandings between the two worlds. 

Even as Sasha sat there, he could think of half a dozen experiments he'd love to do with the bird.  If it could think, were the other brain-oriented capabilities intact?  It clearly seemed to 'see', whatever that meant to it.  Could it also smell?  Was it tasting the grape as it passed through its beak?  There were only so many things one could politely do with another person's ... skeletal companion.  But, at the same time, the other didn't seem to mind Sasha keeping the bird occupied. 

The mention of a Halloween Party seemed to catch the wizard's attention and he cast a grin across the table.  He didn't, immediately, answer the wizard's first question; it really was foolish to consider inviting a complete stranger to this party.  Especially a stranger he'd met randomly at the Hogshead. 

"Just a casual get together for friends and whoever hears of it, by word of mouth," Sasha offered, jumping to the second question.  "It will be down in the Black Forest area, so I'm trying to make good use of what the area already offers.  Straight out of the classic Brothers Grimm.  It has that deep, dark forest feel that seems nicely Halloween-y."   

It was also the land that had belonged to his father's family.  Sasha would be lying if he said he wasn't getting some vindictive humor out of using magic to build a castle and host a very-magically-inclined Halloween party for witches and wizards.  His father would be rolling in his grave. 

"There is plenty of room, so as many as want to can show up.  Guess it depends on how many are intrigued by the word of mouth.  Am I to understand you have experience, or interest, in haunts?" 

Sasha watched, briefly, as the bird made an another attempt at the grape.  When he glanced back up, he realized he had been overlooking a a very basic element of common courtesy.  "Name's Sasha Schlagenweit, by the way," he offered, extending a hand across the table.