March 8th 2009

3:30 pm

Demitria was frowning. Some people would think that that would be a normal expression for a Dungeon Child, but they would be wrong. Only people who had never met Mimi Strelnikov would ever think that. Yet there she was, her sour face bordering on a full on scowl. She wanted to hit her head against a wall. Nothing that entire week had gone right. She had been only half paying attention in classes, even the ones she was exceptional in, she had barely had time to sneak to the Room of Requirement, and then she got the letter. That god-awful-just-send-me-to-hell-right-now-so-I-don’t-have-to-deal-with-this letter.

Her brother was going to be married to that stuck up, bigoted bitch Katrin. The tiny blonde had been weighing the option of killing the anathema, but decided her future would be better if she weren’t thrown in Azkaban at fifteen years old.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. She had known she needed to forget about it somehow, but she was sure if she had been in her right mind she wouldn’t have chosen the option she did.

Tea time with Ignan Storm.

Long lost, great uncle/cousin/something extraordinaire, DADA professor, Hogwarts Terror, but undoubtedly a genius, Ignan Storm. She was going crazy.

She checked the time and decided she was pulling it close enough. So she headed up the stairs from the dungeons to the first floor and her Professor’s office.

Demitria’s blonde hair fell into her face slightly as she knocked on the door of Storm’s office. She wasn’t quite sure what they were going to talk about. What she did know was that at least for awhile, it was going to be awkward.   

Ignan Salus Storm felt coerced, and not in a good way. Despite escaping to Hogwarts away from the grip of Durmstrang, and the close family who had their hooks into the school (led by his father, a former headmaster) they still made great attempts to ensure he kept in touch, and kept an eye on their little ones. First Vasily, and now, Demitria, who he barely knew to be some way related. Actually, he told a lie, Johann had worked it out the other night, with his memory for remembering names and who married whom within the family.

Ignan's niece, Lyudmilla Volkov, Vasily's mother, had married a man called Mikhail Volkov. Mikhail's sister, was Demitria's mother, extending her ties to Ignan only through that marriage, and beyond the bounds of accurate description. Ignan, or rather Professor Storm only knew the girl to be one of the fifth year Slytherin students, whom attended his lessons as prescribed twice a week, and whom didn't give him undue trouble.

However, charged with keeping a somewhat passive eye on Vasily while he was in Hogsmeade (the young man seemed to be settling and hadn't as yet been arrested, requiring Ignan to fetch him from London, yet) as a responsible, respected and marginally feared member of the family, it hadn't escaped his attention from listening to Vasily, that Demitria and he were on good terms. If he was going to do something idiotic, at least he'd have a claw into this particular Hogwarts student and link... even though he could foresee this being rather futile.

Marking completed for the week ahead, and markbook full of ordered and neatly inked scores lying open nearby, Ignan had turned his attention to finishing the section of international news in the Daily Prophet, which always alluded to such interesting and amusing assumptions on other cultures. The sandtimer on his desk emptied out at the corner of his gaze, and he sighed gently, anticipating the knock at his door.

"Enter." He called out to the noise, and waited for the door to open. Demitria, a shock of blonde hair, appeared through it, and stepped inside, closing it behind her.
"I'm sure you're not so pleased to feel obliged to talk to me at the request of your family." He told the Slytherin, gesturing for her to sit down before lowering his eyes back to the newspaper, his tone distracted as he continued,
"So, perhaps we might come to an agreement that we keep these short and with the slowest regularity possible." Glancing up, he looked at Demitria sharply with his blue eyes.
"Unless there are particular academic reasons you wish to engage my attention with, as your Professor?" He asked, considering that the impending OWL examinations were at the forefront of her mind as well as her classmates, having spent time with Callum Knight yesterday, experiencing how preoccupied he was.

Demitria’s bright green eyes fell on the older man as she swung the door open. He was never hard to find. She smiled at him and floated into the room. Just because he was tart most of the time didn’t mean she had to appear sour (completely ignoring the fact that she was more acerbic than spoilt milk at the moment).
She sat down in a rather comfy chair and crossed her legs as her Professor began to speak.

 "I'm sure you're not so pleased to feel obliged to talk to me at the request of your family. So, perhaps we might come to an agreement that we keep these short and with the slowest regularity possible. Unless there are particular academic reasons you wish to engage my attention with, as your Professor?”

She shrugged slightly, her eyes travelling over the already graded papers sitting impeccably on Storm’s desk. She couldn’t see her papers in there, so there was no use in searching further. “I don’t deny that it wasn’t my first choice,” she replied honestly, “but I can’t see any harm in it.”

She barely resisted the urge to shuffle her feet. It was just as awkward as she had predicted. Her eyes browsed  over the Daily Prophet and she noted that he was reading the international section. She couldn’t help but smirk slightly. That was usually the only section of the entire paper she read. Britain was too much of a headache if she worried over every detail and “catastrophe”. She also wanted to know if things were happening where Luca was. He usually didn’t contact her, unlike Jaska and Luca, but she always wanted to know if he was safe.

“Anything interesting happen abroad, sir?” She asked, genuinely interested. Arielle and Kitty had accosted her with a copy of Witch Weekly that morning, so she hadn’t had time to browse the news.

“I don’t deny that it wasn’t my first choice, but I can’t see any harm in it.” Demitria agreed with his view, thankfully. He hadn't expected her to think otherwise really, she was afterall a teenager, and he was a sixty-something year old wizard with a grumpy bedside manner.

“Anything interesting happen abroad, sir?” She asked, her eyes looking to the newspaper he had open.

"Couple of obituaries, and the French are bickering with the Spaniards over an incident with a dragon setting light to a listed Muggle building, as to whom was responsible for keeping track of it." In other words, nothing startlingly unusual, though the photograph of the dragon torching the building and being wrestled down into submission by a squad of wizards with wands was quite entertaining. Ignan didn't doubt that was going to take an enormous amount of memory charms and work to fix, and prove another thing those two countries bickered about.

He turned the paper round to Demitria and dropped it open onto the other side of the desk for her to see, pushing back his desk chair.
"Do you drink tea Demitria?" He asked, which was unusual, given he tended to use everyone's surnames while teaching. He turned away and retrieved a modest copper kettle from one of the shelves which lined the office, lit by the afternoon sunlight which fell through the window behind his desk.

If she didn't drink any, he certainly was. His mother had been fond of tea, which was a common English tradition, and had continued to drink it throughout Ignan's childhood, which he had partaken with. His fondness and familiarity with British culture from an early age had counted for a lot when he was seeking to escape teaching at Durmstrang.

"The OWLs have come forwards very quickly, or so it seems. Though, at least in defences, we have covered practically all the material required by the Ministry." He explained to the fifth year, politely making conversation about something they had a mutual knowledge of. "I'll be intrigued to see who plans to carry on for the next two years from your classmates. Will you be carrying on, do you think?" He asked.

As he had arrived to Hogwarts in mid Autumn term, he had picked up where Mainwaring had left things before his departure, and had honoured the man's decisions on who could continue to study at NEWT level. He was now faced with the prospect of deciding whether that selection process, based on OWL grades, was suitable to continue, as the new tutor. The current fifth years were an intriguing and mixed bunch, though despite their irritations and faults, he was sure any of them who elected to continue would be able to put in enough effort to achieve the NEWT in two years. His absolute need to be a perfectionist, even with the achievements of his students, rather forced his outlook into his behaviour.

Demiria took the proffered newspaper and idly skimmed the pages. Normally she would have read the words thoroughly and strategically, looking for hidden meanings and bias, but it would be rude. She could steal a copy from one of her friends later. She saw the picture of the dragon and couldn’t help but smirk slightly. She was smiley by nature, so anything minutely ridiculous or amusing made her chuckle.

Do you drink tea, Demitria?

Strellie’s mind almost didn’t register the question. Did Storm just call me Demitria? She wondered. It sounded odd. She was so used to being Miss Strelnikov around teachers that whenever one used her first name, it sounded positively peculiar. Especially when it was Ignan Storm. He was also one of the few teachers that could pronounce her name correctly, with all the harshness attributed to it, and not only that, he pronounced it correctly the first time. But him using her given name?

“I do, sir.” She said with a slight nod. “No sugar, thank you.” As a pureblood, she had grown up around tea as a staple. If there was anyone coming over, tea. If you were all alone, tea. If you were suffering from a nervous breakdown, tea. If Voldemort had won the second war and tried to take over the rest of the plant, by Merlin, her mother would sit down and drink tea.
 
After Professor Storm had given Mimi her cup, she listened to the older man talk about the OWLS and NEWT classes for the previous year. Her jade eyes flashed with anticipation. Personally, she couldn’t wait to get done with Hogwarts and go out into the real world. The only problem was, she didn’t know exactly what she was going to do yet.

“Of course!” Her eyes sparkled. “I may not be the top student, but I know that I’ll be happier taking Advanced courses and not getting top grades than not taking them at all. I’d be dreadfully bored otherwise.” She smirked slightly. “And I’m sure you’ll have your hands full whether many of my yearmates or only a few take NEWT level Defense.” She shrugged slightly. “Also, if I didn’t continue all of my classes, there wouldn’t be many opportunities for me in society.”   

“Of course! I may not be the top student, but I know that I’ll be happier taking Advanced courses and not getting top grades than not taking them at all. I’d be dreadfully bored otherwise. And I’m sure you’ll have your hands full whether many of my yearmates or only a few take NEWT level Defense. Also, if I didn’t continue all of my classes, there wouldn’t be many opportunities for me in society.”

Professor Storm nodded, taking his seat again, letting his tea cool ever so slightly.
"Yes, the party line." He replied "Study well, get your grades and society will offer you all you desire." His tone indicated he didn't necessarily agree.
"What opportunities in society do you expect to be at your reach once you leave?" The Professor asked curiously, lifting the teacup to his lips and taking a sip, watching his young visitor with intrigue.

Demitria accepted the tea with a smile and took a sip as Professor Storm asked her more questions. It actually wasn't terrible. She slightly chuckled as she thought of the many terrifying stories that circulated around this particular individual. So far, he had just proven to be a world-wise old man. Be nice to him and he'll be nice to you. Give him crap, and well... get ready to take some of his.

She detected the cynisism in Storm's voice. She couldn't guess why. Her second brother, Luca, was still fighting his way up the social totem pole and he had graduated at the top of his class at Durmstrang. On the other hand, her youngest brother, Maxim, was only half-smart, a terrible slacker, but he was a genius with mechanics. He had floated around the world without a care at all and found nearly everything he was looking for. Dead beat, Mimi thought fondly.

She shrugged slightly. "Honestly, sir, I haven't the slightest idea. I'm good at many things, but none of them seem to go together very well. Like I absolutley adore strategy in DADA and I'm good at hidden combat, but i lack in one-on-one. I'm also very good at charms, but mostly ones that have to do with nature, like growing plants, fire, wind, etc." She smirked slightly before continuing. 'Well, I'm also good with fashion and related spells, but that hardly counts."

 

"Honestly, sir, I haven't the slightest idea. I'm good at many things, but none of them seem to go together very well. Like I absolutely adore strategy in DADA and I'm good at hidden combat, but I lack in one-on-one. I'm also very good at charms, but mostly ones that have to do with nature, like growing plants, fire, wind, etc.... Well, I'm also good with fashion and related spells, but that hardly counts."

Professor Storm nodded slightly at each point, and sipped his tea, his gaze falling on four inch high foe glass on the shelves nearby which happened to be in view.
"Are you managing to attend the dueling club regularly?" As one of the Professors who oversaw the club, he hadn't been quite as active in supervising its activities of late in open meetings, which he hoped was not an oversight.
"You'd probably be wasted in the Aurors here." He added thoughtfully, and then turned to regard Demitria properly again.

"Wouldn't know about the last thing." Professor Storm remarked gruffly. "But you won't get far without doing something you enjoy, and there is no harm in taking time to discover you may be talented at one thing, but in reality you have an interest in something different. Unfortunately, the real interest may not be profitable, admirable or beneficial for our health." He sipped his tea and lowered it, raising his gaze as he drew back on older memories.

"Actually, I retract that earlier statement, you would only be wasted as an auror if you were posted somewhere that did not let you exhibit your particular talents. I spent several years in an output in the Black Forest keeping observation on the first Voldemort rising. Those skills were of particular use, though not so much call for them these days." 

Demitria nodded at his first statement. "Yes, sir. I have. I've missed one or two, but most of the time I'm able to attend."
Her jade green eyes sparkled as she listend to him attentively. Still, she couldn't help but smirk when Storm mentioned her fondness of fashion charms. He seemed to mumble that part. Beacuse every older man just loved talking about clothes and makeup.

 "...But you won't get far without doing something you enjoy, and there is no harm in taking time to discover you may be talented at one thing, but in reality you have an interest in something different. Unfortunately, the real interest may not be profitable, admirable or beneficial for our health. Actually, I retract that earlier statement, you would only be wasted as an auror if you were posted somewhere that did not let you exhibit your particular talents. I spent several years in an output in the Black Forest keeping observation on the first Voldemort rising. Those skills were of particular use, though not so much call for them these days."

Her pale eyebrow quirked slightly. She had been a small child when Voldemort had been rising, but she remembered the name. A chill passed through her bones. Her father had met with the creature once or twice and she was almost positive that thing had been the one to encourage her father to lead an uprising in Mongolia. Her mother had tried to avoid telling her for a very long time, but her older brothers had been old enough to understand  what had been going on.n They had told her without hesitation of the ugly snake man who had met with Taras.

"I have to agree with the last statement. Although I've always considered the... less admirable jobs as a possible courses of work. As for doing what I like rather than what I'm talented at," she shook her head. "I doubt that would happen. i like doing what I'm good at doing. I don't have problems with loosing, but that doesn't mean I have to do something where I won't be the best. I've already had to deal with that in school."

"I have to agree with the last statement. Although I've always considered the... less admirable jobs as a possible courses of work. As for doing what I like rather than what I'm talented at," she shook her head. "I doubt that would happen. I like doing what I'm good at doing. I don't have problems with losing, but that doesn't mean I have to do something where I won't be the best. I've already had to deal with that in school."

"Why do you doubt that you will ever be able to like to do?" Ignan asked suddenly. "What a curious thing to say." He frowned and thought about things. "If we all sought to only be the best or never take up the activities we enjoyed performing, the world would be a very boring place, Demitria. You may surprise yourself yet."

His eyes drifted to one side in thought of a suitable analogy.
"If I had chosen to follow what I was said to be talented at even as a twenty year old, I'd have had a long and uninteresting life teaching at Durmstrang. As it happens, I went and did as I liked - and its only now I'm returning to what everyone claims to be one of my 'talents' even if I don't share their opinion. Professional possibilities narrow. If I liked my role, as well as lending my skills to it generally, who knows." He blinked slowly.

"Dear Merlin, listen to me." Ignan shook his head. "You didn't come here for me to theorise on such things. I understand you are in touch with Vasily at Hogsmeade?"