4 March 2012
Sunday at 4:30pm
Ignan Storm's Office
Hogwarts

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was exceedingly busy. On top of being busy, he was occupied. And before that, he was pre-occupied. So much so on each account that in these last three weeks, he'd underutilized his deputy utterly. They hadn't spoken, let alone properly conferred in weeks and if that wasn't remedied, the castle would begin to feel its age.

The start of the year had brought them Professor Isobel Stuart to take over Divination.[1] She seemed distinctly unimpressed with Knox who had always found himself charming.  While Knox had not observed Stuart and Storm together, he imagined they had this in common.

January had also brought a strange offer of help from an agent of the Beast Division that had gone so horribly, Knox had declined as yet to mention it to anyone.[2] He was grateful that he'd not see another centaur since.

These two topics alone were worth a conversation, and February brought even more reason. He'd unilaterally hired Draco Malfoy around St. Valentine's Day having made his acquaintance in December.[3] When Knox didn't immediately make a proper introduction it had felt like very bad form, but as more time passed to go through with it so late would be even more awkward, so he'd just let the thing stand on its own. Plus, he was getting the impression that everyone was a relieved as he was to finally have a real Healer in the Infirmary, Emma Prince.[4]

And just today upon his return from a weekend in London, he'd been informed that the werewolf rights club would be having a protest in Hogsmeade.[5]

But of the greatest concern to Knox were the events of the night of the 19th of February, when Feliks Spectre showed Knox a gift he'd been given.[6]

"Professor Storm, are you in, sir?" Knox announced himself as he approached the open door.

1.	2 Jan 2012 - Forthright and Forthwith
2.	17 Jan 2012 - Rider? At the Gates
3.	4 Dec 2011 - Quill and Tome
4.	20 Feb 2012 - We Are Relieved
5.	1 Mar 2012 - Can't Stop, Won't Stop
6.	19 Feb 2012 - The Present is a Gift

“I am, Professor,” Ignan Storm called from within his shadowy office. He was minding the castle in Greyfriar’s absence. Miranda was working so it was not an issue to spend some hours up at the Castle, dutifully preparing for the week and replying to correspondence. This was despite him spending the previous weekend refereeing the school’s duelling tournament[1]. It had kept the new school healer very busy in her first week. It had been a good way to introduce her to ‘normality’, in his opinion.

“A fortuitous trip?” He asked the Headmaster, looking up. He set his quill down beside the inkwell and gestured politely to the vacant chair the other side of his desk. It was still light outside, but the lamps were lit as the grey March sunlight barely broke through the clouds blanketing the school. The office was lined with bookcases and shelves of sinister-looking artefacts collected on his travels earlier in life.

“I have received further applications for Kesali’s post.” He gestured to the modest pile of charms professor applications to his right, which he had already scrutinised. It was a high bar to be stranger than Nightingale Kesali, but a few of the applicants appeared to be trying. Ignan suspected one of them would be Greyfriar’s preferred choice after reviewing them, and leave it to his deputy to impose order. Professor Storm was, as ever, an efficient and effective Deputy, putting fear of Merlin into the students and some staff alike.

1.	Tournament Announcement

"Eliminated at the hand of Kurby Bagnold unfortunately," Knox mumbled, still mildly sore about the result. There are many players he could have lost too that lacked the distasteful symbolism.

Knox took the offered seat comfortably, sitting back and putting his ankle up on his knee. But he sat back forward at the stack of Charms applicants. "Brilliant."

He leafed through them. "Anyone good?"

It was the Headmaster's prerogative to do the hiring and firing, but he had no doubt Ignan here had his opinions. This was a far more preferable subject to the ones Knox had brought with him.

“Anyone good?”

The silver-haired wizard seemed indecisive about his judgement of the pile of applications, as if he wanted to pass acid comment, but for once had decided they did not deserve such. The latest from a witch called Wandsworth had stood out not for name alone.

“Perhaps,” he settled, “there are no end of academics keen for the post of charms, but that is no guarantee of ability to teach.” Or, rather, keep order to allow for such to take place. “I have already burned the worst of the bunch to save your eyes.” He gestured to the pile with a hand, indicating he was finished with them.

Greyfriar had installed himself on the chair opposite not to discuss gambling debts and Nightingale’s replacement, Ignan believed. “What counsel can I offer you, Headmaster? Or is it a loan to repay Mr Bagnold?” The Deputy sat back and steepled his fingers, examining his superior’s bristled face.

Greyfriar and Storm had this in common, a dedication to education and that their professors be, above all, teachers. Or at least, an interest. They couldn't always be as choosy as one would think considering Hogwarts was the only school in the land. Such a funny business, this castle.

"You are indispensable, Professor Storm," Knox appraised Ignan's  selection process. He had no doubt he'd be supplied with a tight list of recommendations in due time.

"There aren't many who can move a conversation to its point with as much grace," Knox said with a smile, settling back. "But quite right. I beg a pardon before the fact that I've avoided the topic for a long two weeks or more. I've no excuse other than the compulsion to let the gravity of it all stew. The Ministry are now involved and I gathered you'd find out sooner or later. Should have been far sooner, but, here we are."

Knox lifted a hand in apology and acceptance. Knowing his dramatic prologue would not be appreciated much longer, he got to the point.

"Two weeks ago, Feliks Spectre did as I had previously requested and brought to my office a mysterious parcel he'd received by mysterious owl. It was a small box and inside were two -- a better word is needed for these objects -- gloves made from the hands of a transformed werewolf."

How did one adequately characterize the ghastly ghoulishness of it?

The Headmaster was adding introduction to his elucidation. His Deputy remained silent, unmoving in the chair behind the desk, a strategy which made students unnerved, but which Greyfriar was accustomed.

He kept his features steady, so as not to let on immediately that he had some knowledge of this parcel from the boy’s family[1], even if this was the first he’d officially heard from Greyfriar. He would have liked to have examined the werewolf gloves, not necessarily anything to do with the Slytherin recipient, but more professional and personal interest.

“A mysterious owl?” He echoed Knox’s words, encouraging further exposition.

“And he brought the parcel directly to you, without opening it?” This was rhetorical, though the cadence of his voice ascended to instil that drop of doubt in the Headmaster. Ignan could accurately predict the answer. He didn’t truly trust Feliks Spectre as far as he could hex him. For all the friendly gestures he demonstrated, it was clear he had been brought up in another era.

“What have become of them?”

1.	20th January, Eyesight to the Blind

"Oh, he'd opened it," Knox assured the Deputy Headmaster who expressed all the shock and scandal of an umbrella stand. He put his hand on his beard in an attempt to recall the strangely specific avian identification.

"What did he say ... ah yes, a European eagle owl dropped the package from above while he was walking alone from Sylvain's hut. I had Balfour up straight away and he was clever enough to have Feliks make a contemporaneous written account for the Department's benefit. I sent the whole horrific lot of it back with him, box and all."

Knox shifted in the chair and sort of winced. "I'm plagued with the uncomfortable certainty the gloves were made from whichever of the Dunnigan brothers taken from Dumfriesshire. Can you imagine? I don't like this at all, this connection someone's making between Feliks and werewolves."

Knox pinched two fingers in the air. "The book and twine from October, the other Dunnigan remains. Why put such a young child in the middle of this? Will her ghost ever rest? I'm tired of it."

Of all the audiences for the expression the prose of dread, Ignan Storm was among the least receptive but Knox had never been put off it.

A European eagle owl? How very specific, especially for a first year who had yet to study creatures in any detail. Although Greyfriar hadn’t pointed it out as queer, the specificity did strike the silver-haired professor as a very odd detail, along with the fact the owl arrived outside of the usual postal delivery to the great hall, in the open air.

His pale gaze had slid away from Greyfriar to an indistinct point on the shelves of sinister looking items to the Headmaster’s left.

“… I don’t like this at all, this connection someone’s making between Feliks and werewolves.”
“No…” Professor Storm agreed quietly, clearly thinking and not about to stop the Headmaster continuing. A number of questions hung over the Deputy Headmaster’s desk as a consequence.

“From what I know of her, she attracted a fanatical following,” he began thoughtfully, taking care of his words. “Though at the time she posed entirely above board. Miranda and I even accepted a dinner invitation once. Ms Almasy liked to donate to St Mungo’s. There were accusations that she had served human remains.[1]” Better to phrase it such, even if retrospect suggested more truth to the matter.

“There was a wizard who visited Raine[2] here under my supervision, conveying news of her aunt who I would not have trusted further than I could curse him. A close associate of Feliks’ mother. It could be one or more of her number out to unsettle the boy, or hope he equals his mother’s potential.”

He narrowed his eyes moment to study the Headmaster, and drummed his fingers of one hand on the desk before him in contemplation. It was perhaps to state the obvious to say...

“I have been disinclined to trust the boy, Headmaster.”

1.	12th March 2011 I Think I'll Eat Your Heart
2.	27th April 2011 You Like Your Girls Insane

It should not be easy to forgot Ignan Storm's incredibly storied connections all throughout the upper tiers and strangest fingers of magical society, a humble educator, but there was the students' tendency to think of professors of Hogwarts as cloistered up here. But, as one sassy student had once reminded Knox, 'Apparition exists, professor.' Anyway, his mind had wandered. This visit of Raine's was news to him, but a helpful piece of the puzzle.

He might have theorized more, but Ignan's last gave Knox pause. He froze for a moment, a dark eyebrow lifting. Then Knox shifted in his seat, his posture as ever a contrast to the haunting form of Ignan Storm.

"What makes you say that? In what way?"

Normally, Knox flowed with opinions, even self-incriminating ones, but in the case of Feliks Spectre he'd been attempting to reserve judgement.

“An instinct.” His Deputy replied after a moment’s pause.

Feliks Spectre’s upbringing was unusual, despite his mother and the circumstances of his arrival to the British Isles. Ignan had seen a glimpse of it with the legilimency at their first meeting. It was written up in the boy’s Hogwarts record, stored deep in the castle, but had not been topic of conversation between the two seniors before.

“He reminds me more of the Durmstrang set.” It wasn’t a strong reason, but there was something sharp around the edges of the boy like Ignan’s former students at his previous school. “His upbringing has given him archaic views, and of course, the apple rarely falls far from the tree.” A proverb familiar to home and here.

Feliks might play the innocent idiot amongst his classmates, but he had a quick, instinctive wand and never failed to be far from brewing trouble.

"He's eleven," Knox countered, still a little perplexed.

"Hardly hardened in any views or ... taken root below any trees of any kind. We're not to judge him by his mother, are we? If he's not to be trusted, it's more than he's unfamiliar and unpredictable than malicious. No more manipulative than half his year."

Knox may have been trying to convince himself more than Ignan and then decided it better to concede as much. "He doesn't trust me, I'll admit it.  Which complicates matters. But again, that's hardly outstanding for the younger years; that loud old werewolf in his tower insisting they read."

Knox stroked his beard in thought. "You may be right, but it's not in my nature to settle there. Have you had any problems?"

Knox Greyfriar would always see the best in the students, and his deputy would not prevent him. Someone had to, after all. The older, more cynical silver haired man at the desk was set in his disciplinarian, judgemental ways. He was happy to leave Greyfriar to the empathetic, pastoral nature of their roles.

“One of us has to give them the benefit of the doubt,” Ignan agreed. “No problems with respect to the ordinary Slytherin faire,” he explained, referring to the need for Slytherins to prove themselves and create a pecking order in house, “I have left the small infractions to his Head of House, but I have noted he’s never far from trouble I encounter.” He blinked, lowered his head a fraction in respect, “I concede this is not a glimpse of any firm proof. Perhaps Camille can put in a good word for you, if you seek his trust.” The arithmancy professor was rather enamoured with her grandmother role in the first year’s life, and Ignan trusted her maternal instinct.

“Better he has positive role models, given he has external interest keen to lead him astray,” he suggested, “and should you feel it is necessary, I can arrange owl post into the castle to be searched[1].” Though Ignan predicted Greyfriar might prefer the boy to be trusted to bring things to adults again.

1.	Owl Postal Service at HP Wiki

It was good that these two wizards could work in unison despite their differences and if Knox had ever felt adversarial with the stern fellow, he'd quite forgotten. Knox sat back in his chair, taking quite seriously the offer to have Camille lobby his case to strange, stand-offish, secretive Feliks.

"That's an interesting question," Knox said in response to Ignan's owl-catching proposal. "You remember we did the same at Dante Garcia's mother's request when she worried about the father's intentions. Genevieve is truly persuasive."[1] Naturally Ignan remembered - his cooperation had been integral to the endeavor.

"If we did screen the owls, I'd insist it be in full concert with Balfour and with Feliks's knowledge. I don't think Balfour would be too difficult to convince. After all, unlike Dante's situation, post for our young Spectre isn't entirely meant for him is it?"

Whoever was sending along these gifts had to know - had to have planned - they'd reach a broader audience than only the addressee.

1.	13 Oct 2012 - Some Starless Night

“I recall.” Ignan confirmed, giving a nod. Young García earned much more respect of his teacher than his mother, given Witch Weekly’s spurious claims about his marriage. Hadn’t that ended in something more cordial than the witch had worried about?

“I am almost certain,” he agreed again, “as I received an owl requesting assistance to that effect.” Despite the amount of paperwork stacked on the desk in form of charms applicants, essays, exercise books and general school correspondence, he located the particular letter with only a moment’s search, and extended it.

“I have not had any inclination to believe further post has arrived with malicious intent, but it would be prudent. How do you wish to broach it with him, if you feel his is not inclined to trust you? Is that something you prefer me to… handle?” He had paused to decide upon the right diplomatic word for it. If it were down to him, he would have searched it all before it arrived without Feliks having any idea. Instead he had enlisted willing, yet vigilant house elves to record the morning deliveries to the first year, without tampering or touching any of it. Even that, he suspected, would not be in agreement with Greyfriar’s judgement.

"Always a step ahead and clandestine about it," Knox scoffed gently then began to skim the letter from Ignan's nephew. It did was indeed a clear request for exactly the policy Ignan had suggested. He lifted his eyebrows and returned the letter.

"My protestations are all alleviated," he said without any bitterness. If all parties involved were in accord, then it must be among their best ideas. "If you wouldn't mind coordinating, I think that would be best in the end. As our Defense instructor it's easy enough to justify. That and your relationship with Johann and avoiding my meddling - yes I think this is the best arrangement. Let me know when you have it all sorted."

There was no reason to be territorial. Speaking of claiming space...

"On that note, you've heard of our resident activists' plans to voice their dissent in Hogsmeade?" The leadership of SAWS had made no effort to hide the protest plans even though they'd asked permission from no one. Defiance, maybe, or utter confidence in the righteousness of their cause. "What's your read on it?"

Ignan Storm was a protector of decorum and this year there werewolf activists had run the other way.