A tall, slim, slightly odd looking fellow glanced from the time on his pocket watch, to the door and back again with fervent nature. He eyed the barman, who in turn had been eyeing him (no doubt wondering when his patron would order another drink for being sat there so long) and then returned to the ritual of watch to door, watch to door. If he didn't turn up in the next ten minutes, he'd have to go there, and in the state of nerves he was in, coat still a little damp under the collar from Germany, he didn't want to consider it.

Though nor did he trust all the eyes in the bar.

Taking a deep breath and trying to force his nerves into submission, the adrenaline running thin, Johann Storm straightened his long fingers of his left hand. The right hand fingers still carefully clenched around his ebony wand, unable to relax. Fearing that any moment now, someone would have tracked him down from Germany, and break his neck for crossing their ringleader. Why, oh why had he been so damned stupid?

Eight minutes.

It was a bitter Sunday night, and the wind nipped at Ignan's face as he stepped outside the Hogwarts gates. They swung shut behind him and met together with a small metallic clang between the two winged boars on the gateposts.
"Ruddy hell." He found himself saying, surprised at the fact he'd picked up a rather British mannerism. His conscious returned that it was hardly surprising, given that he'd now spent over a month at the school, submerged in students and their slang.

Ordinarily he'd be beside a warm fire, perhaps planning the last few details of a seventh year assignment for the week ahead, with a glass of Ogden's firewhiskey, but instead, he'd been interrupted by an owl and a hastily scribbled note begging his attendance. Why on earth his cousin couldn't have come directly to the castle, he wasn't sure. The handwriting was all over the place, and the ink still a little damp.

With a crack, Ignan disapparated from outside the gates, and reappeared a few metres outside the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, which was full of the sleepy Sunday evening trade. Wizards who didn't want to go to work the next day, or those finishing a hard weekend's work. Nobody ever looked that pleased on a Sunday in a pub. Ignan pushed open the door, which squeaked ever so slightly on its hinges, but brought forth a warm room with log fire, and the sweet and salty smell of the mead on tap.

A young man, looking a little thinner than was healthy, twitched noticeably by the bar. Ignan could see his hand clasped his wand, despite being inside his robes. Crossing the bar floor with long strides, he took a long hard look at his cousin.
"I got your note. What is it, money, women, or worse, young cousin?" He smirked a little. Johann was half his age, and although was blessed with good brains, could be bored easily as a child, and had turned them to less constructive productions. "I'd bank on women to make you run quite as far as Britain...?"

The familiar figure of his relative stepping through the door caused Johann to twitch - half in fright at recognising someone so far from home, and half in relief. His cousin looked displeased, though he didn't recall him often looking pleased even when visiting the family over Christmas.

As a child, Johann had been both fascinated and terrified by Ignan, who he had considered almost an uncle for the thirty odd years between their ages. He'd forever be traveling, the stories of him quashing dark risings as a Ministry auror would be retold in his absence. On his return, Johann remembered how old the wizard had suddenly become, weary of things, and almost scared of something he knew. Now, Ignan Storm seemed more self assured, and although older still, a figure who did not seem the sort to cross even now.

"I got your note. What is it, money, women, or worse, young cousin? I'd bank on women to make you run quite as far as Britain...?" Ignan spoke in English, which surprised Johann a little, though it drew less attention to them both. Used to hearing his cousin speak in their local tongue with the family, he suddenly appreciated how cleanly Ignan could switch between, given his upbringing. As a linguist, it impressed him.

"Women would be simpler, old cousin." Johann replied quietly, and lowered his eyes. "I apologise for calling upon you for assistance at such short notice. Your weekends must be precious, given the hours you dedicate to your students at the school." He raised his eyes again. "I didn't wish to disturb you there, or cause a scene by arriving there directly, but I appreciate you coming out to here." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he heard his voice steady a little.

Ignan looked carefully at his younger relative, and glanced at his right hand, still clasping his wand.

"You're fearful someone will be here." He remarked, "you've fled across countries and you're still afraid?"

It wasn't an altogether unfamiliar feeling to the older wizard, given the times he'd feared capture, before finally being caught in Italy. Johann didn't know anything of it, and only Ignan's father, Merik did know of it. Even telling his father had taken months.

"I watch my back habitually, but I dislike the prospect of you bringing fear to Hogsmeade. Be swift, explain."

"Be swift, explain."

Johann drew breath, lowered his gaze and honoured the request.

"I may have agreed to take work for a man who has less than moral principals in our world. He has discovered I have deceived him, and just over an hour ago, I fled my rooms from strangers at my door. It is not safe for me in Germany. Not for some time until this has been forgotten. It is best you know very little, like the rest of the family. This man is fond of veritaserum, rather than the trouble of torture, thank Soloman." He raised his eyes, and shook his head.

"I am a fool, I know it, but I beg of you at least one night, Ignan, one night. If Hogwarts be as Durmstrang is, I may be able to weather this out." He reached out and lightly touched the arm of his cousin.
"I ask no protection, I've brought this upon myself."

"Then you will receive none!" Ignan replied curtly, turning away a fraction, displeased to be called upon in such a way. Further displeased that this young cousin was bringing the family into disrepute with the criminal minds!

"One night." He agreed, "and if this turns out to be a fright over salesmen for self washing clothes basins, I will never let you live it down." With a smirk and the tilt of his head, he signaled for Johann to follow him from the bar. The young man carried only a small bag, and kept his head down behind the confident strides of his older relative.

"They'll try any scare tactics to make you buy a new washboard." He teased, as they passed out into the street outside, Ignan's eyes intently watching for figures and unusual shadows cast by the full moon. "Take my arm." He instructed, his eyes unmoving from their watch.

With a crack, the two figures vanished from the Hogsmeade main street.




End.