The seventh years bustled out along the third year corridor after their first lesson with Georg, and passed the unusual sight of Professor Storm heading in the opposite direction along the corridor. Unusual, in that the Defences Professor taught on the first floor, and also because he didn't teach on a Friday anyhow.

Truth be told, Ignan had been sleeping off both a hangover and adrenaline leftover from the day before. His hand still resolutely failed to twitch any fingers, which was depressing, and only in the last hour or so had he got out of bed and felt able to get dressed, tucking his useless arm back into its sling, and slugging a painkilling potion that wasn't doing the trick as well as Tulojow's nerve numbing spell had yesterday. He couldn't ask her to oblige having slipped out on the sly the previous day.

Aware that he looked haggard, but not giving the blindest bit of bother about it, he approached the still open door to the charms classroom where Georg hopefully still was, after the final class of his first day of teaching at Hogwarts. However, it was not Georg that Ignan's eyes picked out as he leaned against the doorway of the classroom, but rather the dragon hanging from the ceiling.

"I cannot believe you still have that." Ignan remarked disbelievingly, staring upwards at the ceiling. "After all those years we had to carry it around, with it bursting through the shrinking charms and extended interiors of our luggage at the most inconvenient times?" He looked incredulously at the thing hanging up there.

"Do you remember when we were on the Amazon and the ruddy thing decided to just burst out on the boat?"

Georg looked up, half-expecting a student; however, to see Ignan up and about was a pleasant surprise and one he much preferred to a student intruding on his private contemplations.

He stood from where he'd been sitting at the podium, and followed Ignan's gaze up to the dragon, half-smiling. "Call it a battle of stubbornness and will. The bloody thing can stay here even after I leave, though I half-expect it to fall on a student during a lesson, given it's track record. Or get blown up - that'd be the luck of it."

He walked over, his walking stick rhythmically tapping on the wooden floor. He hadn't bothered to retrieve his hat and coat; they hung from the Moose's antlers across the room.

"Hah! All too well," he said, half-smile turning to a full one. "Wound up eating alligator for a week because all the food got eaten by piranhas and the guides ran for it, if I recall correctly. How's your arm doing this evening?"

"Yes, can't say I've ever enjoyed eating either again." Ignan mused, standing up again and stepping into the room, his eyes moving from the imposing dragon towards the other things in the room. It was clear Georg had already made his mark very clear on the classroom.

"Its still attached, if that's what you mean." Ignan replied, eyes flitting around still. "Shall be glad when it stops being a dead-weight and starts being useful. Merlin, I could have just described some of the first years to you with the same sentence." He looked back down at Georg and smirked.

"Speaking of students, how was your first day, Professor Kirchlehner? I've only been awake an hour, but I haven't heard of any deaths yet, so I take it... well? Did the now feared Miss Wakahisa show her face?" Ignan asked with sarcasm. He'd have to sort that out sooner than later.

"Hah! After what I've seen of them, that describes the 3rd year students as well," Georg said with a grunt. "Some of them are talented but the ones who are not-" he rubbed his forehead. "The first years were fine, aside from the  fact one of them is apparently demoniacally possessed and yet no one seems to have done anything about it."

He lean on one of the pew-like desks. "If this dreaded Wakahisa ripped your arm off, Ignan, she's a sleeping dragon; she was dead quiet the entire lesson. Didn't speak or do basically anything."

Crossing his arms, his smirk reappeared. "The other years are about as you described. Some of the 5th years are quite talented; Mister Knight impressed me, though mostly with a good show of chivalry - seems his reputation is a tad misplaced?" he phrased it as a question.

"The other years are about as you described. Some of the 5th years are quite talented; Mister Knight impressed me, though mostly with a good show of chivalry - seems his reputation is a tad misplaced?"

Georg leaned against the first line of tiered pew seating in his classroom - which had fixed desks unlike Ignan's two floors below. Ignan joined him in the gap, the faint smell of pipe smoke lingered in the air and from Georg, the tobacco familiar, provoking memories to return at the back of his mind's eye, stood beneath the dragon they'd won in return for deeds while travelling. It had been too big to transport, but Georg had doggedly insisted on keeping it as it was rare. Ignan had purposely forgotten what breed it was, number of times he'd woken up wherever they'd found to rest their heads, to have a dragon's head resting on his stomach because it had resisted the spells on Georg's bags.

"Ah yes. Knight can turn his hand to most things, if he wants to of course. His reputation, well deserved until lately. He made it his wish to cause disruption in several classes, including mine, long story, became my father's son, but behind his teenage rebellion is a good student, who will go far. I tend to push him, where I can... he'd have been good Durmstrang stock had he not ended up here." Ignan raised both his eyebrows, imagining Callum amongst the likes of Vasily and his heavy handed counterparts.

"Ketteridge with the demonic possessions?" Ignan asked, switching back to an earlier passing comment. "They pass very quickly, and she seems to have no memory of them. Haven't heard of one since I encountered her doing so in a lesson in November last year shortly after I'd arrived. Tried any obvious spells to release any hex or curse that was accidentally or purposely cast, considering the age of them, I doubted any of them would be able to induce such a state in another. Then, as easily as it happened, completely back. Conscious of something having happened, but entirely refusing to discuss. I'd only just arrived - last thing I wanted was a student to claim temporary insanity based on their first lesson under my watch, and as it hasn't reoccurred in my presence... I haven't pursued things." He felt a little guilty for it now.

"Perhaps it induced by new Professors, eh?" Ignan suggested with a turn of his hand and shrug of his shoulders which he then regretted, swearing at himself under his breath. Ruddy arm!
"Yes, poor excuse for not following things up. I don't suppose either of us will want to look Nagde in the eye for a bit given last night's escape. You never quite know what's self-induced hysteria in young girls though."

"I certainly got that sense in Knight - tough boy," Georg said. "Still, he's a promising lad, at least as far as Charms are concerned. One of the better students in his year, at least so far. Follows instructions well, gets his work done." He shrugged. If the boy had indeed recently reformed, then Georg would give him as many chances as the boy earned. "I can tell you, though - the students here aren't bound by the appearance rules, are they? Crazy hair, on some of them."

The two got comfortable against the desks, and Georg retrieved his pipe, blowing a smoke ring and absently offering the pipe to Ignan, the way he'd done on countless nights over the years. "It was Thornton, actually - Ketterridge was fine in my class. I do hope that doesn't mean it's going around." He grunted. "Exorcisms aren't my strong point, unfortunetly - tend to get possessed myself, instead. She started drawing magic circles in the air." He waved a hand to demonstrate. "Did Ketteridge do that?"

OOC: WHOOOPS genuine mind-fail there!

---

"Did I say Ketteridge?" Ignan asked, surprised "Merlin, no, I did mean Thornton!" He rubbed at his temple with his right hand as if his brain had somehow fallen asleep from its duty.
"Hell, that's a bit of a slip up - completely wrong girl too, sorry."

No doubt Georg would make some witty comment on age, being the younger by several years, and that his grey matter was deteriorating.
"And no, she just stood very still muttering to herself a little, absolutely rigid. Must have been the first time her classmates had seen her perform it judging by their over excited reactions. One doesn't expect possession to occur on the first day of teaching, does he?"

He puffed on the offered pipe, but handed it back swiftly.
"Same tobacco?" He asked, out of curiosity, "I've tried not to - leaves a lingering, telling smell..." which used to be a way back to him, if anyone witnessed him disposing of another, in its purest reasons.
"Always suited you better." He admitted.

"I'm not in any state to try, like you say, risk of taking on the possession - if that's what it is of course." He gestured weighing up the possibility with his right hand.
"Haul her in and see what she says at the prospect. If she's an accomplished mime, we'll know soon enough...?"

"Tch! That's why you shouldn't drink so much after taking those medicines Madam Nadge gave you. Don't know what the combination could do," Georg said, as the person who'd encouraged Ignan to do exactly that.

"Mm. I put a stop to it quickly, though if she's done it twice in this span of time - yes, should probably look into it. Best to nip the bud before she rips someone's face off or starts spewing vomit everywhere." His tone indicated he wasn't too worried of that happening.

He took the pipe back and puffed at it again. "Not quite the same - son took over the little company and changed the formula slightly," he said. "It's not bad, persay, but I think his father's was better. Been considering switching, just haven't found the right stuff yet."

A slightly wicked smile replaced his usual easy one. "I don't know - hauling a tiny first year up in front of both of us? She might pass out, especially with the students thinking you mean to kill them."

"I don't know - hauling a tiny first year up in front of both of us? She might pass out, especially with the students thinking you mean to kill them."

Ignan chuckled,
"That's half the point." He told Georg "We'd soon know what was going on. False, terrifying reputations can be quite useful." He smirked, able to make that joke to his old friend, who knew that the reputation was less valid now than it once had been.
"If they only knew..." He added quietly.

"Did you meet my greatest fan, by the way, Winifred Oliver? Proclaimed like a foghorn yesterday about what happened. Tapendra silenced her I understand - kept her unable to speak for almost an hour until he could deal with her. "I think we should adopt that more often for her."

In the back of his head, Ignan's taxed brain linked up something and a dream he'd had during his long recovery sleep during that morning came forth to his mind. A weird, half comforting dream of sleeping tucked up to his tall colleague like some lanky teddy bear. The realisation made him pause and completely miss whatever Georg had just said or done as he realised in horror that it had been quite a pleasant dream to his unconscious brain - clearly it was sorting out the fact the younger wizard had been instrumental in his rescue and treatment at the hut. At least he really, really hoped it was... bloody hell, Georg was right, he shouldn't have had so much to drink what with the potions and the whole event.

"I'd say it's best they don't," Georg said, and cut off any darker speculation on what he meant by quickly adding, "Let them make it up themselves - that's always more amusing, especially with the imaginations on some of them. While I didn't hear any of Miss Oliver's...thoughts - or lack thereof - she's an interesting girl - awful at spellcasting, though. One of the many who need to get new wands or abandon them entirely, like that Pepper boy. Dangerous to themselves and the rest of the school."

He opened his mouth to go on, and saw Ignan had stopped and was looking disturbed; like he'd had a bad thought or he wasn't feeling right. "Ignan? Are you alright?" He frowned, standing back up. "Don't need to go back to the hut, do you?" he added, his tone teasing.

"Ignan? Are you alright? Don't need to go back to the hut, do you?"

"What?" Ignan asked, suddenly hearing Georg's words correctly. He blinked and looked back at his friend.
"Sorry, just had a thought of something." He sounded distant, pushing away the thoughts back into the darkest recesses of his mind. Here was hoping Georg didn't attempt any petty legilmens on his at that moment, he doubted his habitual occlumency would be up to the job given the upset.

"No, I don't need to go back there, as long as I don't spend another evening drinking. Sadly, that is Georg, sadly." He shook his head gently.
"And yes - keep Pepper and Oliver either away from each other and everyone else, or leave them to take each other to the hut. I hope you have more success than I." He scratched the end of his nose with his right hand, a part of him still staring in horror at what his mind had just brought up.

"Good Merlin, what's it become - both of us idly discussing students. What happened to the women, the unusual things we did?" He asked and looked at Georg directly suddenly. "Have we really got old? How awful of us. Not even discussing the merits of our female colleagues. How dull and politically correct are we these days?" He shook his head and attempted to fold his arms - only with one in a tight sling, it didn't go to plan.

Georg smirked. "We're both old Ignan, yes. But not too old for fun, I hope."

With Ignan insisting he was fine - though Georg did give him a suspicious look  - Georg decided to let it go. "Hrmph," Georg said as he got comfortable again and puffed at his pipe, getting it going once more.

"From what I've seen, the ladies here are certainly easy on the eye!" He said cheerfully. "Though they all seem rather - shall we say? Stiff or unapproachable. I'd be worried for my wedding tackle with Reid about; smart woman, of course, but seems rather lacking on the fun aspect. Same with Madame Austerlitz; incredible woman, though, Austerlitz." He smiled at Ignan. "Since you brought it up, Ignan - got your eye on a bird, have you?"

"Since you brought it up, Ignan - got your eye on a bird, have you?"

"Mm, yes, sharp eyes, excellent at finding what you need, wingspan of about..." Ignan gestured with his free hand, "and with all its feathers." He looked over to the windows and smiled to himself at his own joke.
"Good post owls are hard to come by." Ignan told Georg, and raised an eyebrow as if to say I'm not entirely addled.

"No, one shouldn't look so close to home, and besides, apart from Austerlitz most of them speak a little too quietly in my presence. I feel ancient amongst them, and old enough to realise I'd have no chance if I ever did take an interest." Ignan sighed, "There has been nobody on the horizon of late, not unusual. Though I would imagine that is far from true for you. I believe I remember you keeping score until it became to taxing for you when we arrived at St Kitts..." He arched a silver eyebrow at his younger friend, "something about the rum there... was it? Or was it the heat and the women?" 

"Hrmph!" Was Georg's response. "Not really, no. The only ladies that pay me attention these days seem to be married - and while there is, I must admit, a certain thrill to such affairs it's not so fun now that they have children." But when he was younger - hah! He'd jumped out of plenty of bedroom windows in his time.

Usually second, of course; Ignan had always made the landing softer if Georg had let him go first.

"All three, I think," he said with a chuckle. "Though I'd love to say I won that little 'contest', in the end. The title helped, a few years back in Austria - but alas, too old, too young, married..." he waved a hand dismissively. "It feels odd, to feel old and yet realize I'm only middle-aged. Maybe it's the lack of middle-aged single women."

It was a shame the eagle couldn't have helped Tulojow identify a less awkward time to enter the conversation.  But, unfortunately, it was only possible to tell when the Defense professor had been on the move.  The bird couldn't relay what the man had been up to after he finally was on the move. 

Tulojow paused in the classroom doorway and leaned against the door jam, transferring her weight to her good leg, giving her knee a break after that long trek up the moving staircases.  (She was convinced they were aware of her arthritic knee - every single one took the opportunity to change as she made her way up).  Very much as a puppy felt the need to toss its coveted toy at its owner's feet to display its triumph of a job well done, the massive golden eagle glided just passed the window before spotting a lazy school owl a short distance down and diving to bully it. 

"Rum," Tulojow repeated, longingly. 

Of the little bit of the conversation she'd overheard, it had been that one word that had stood out.  "At least there's tea," she added, in a rather blank and wholly unenthusiastic tone.  She refrained from commenting on the other overheard bits of conversation - at least for the time being.  Grouchy old men probably didn't appreciate the commentary of a grouchy old woman. 

"I won't bother you gentlemen long, I just needed to play the obnoxious, doting Healer."  She nodded towards Ignan, pointing towards the hand before pushing herself off the doorframe and moving, stiffly, into the room.  "Are all five moving?" 

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