1987, Zurich, Switzerland. Georg (37) and Ignan (43) have been travelling together for the past decade. This is the last time they see each other before Georg begins to teach at Hogwarts.

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Ignan could already anticipate an argument when he returned to the rooms he and Georg were renting in, which is why he'd finished his drink. Georg had known what the men at the bar were staring at them for every much as Ignan had, and he had begged Ignan not to approach them, not to entertain their wishes and offers.

But through the haze of the pipesmoke, and the stench of the perfume the women sat with them, who giggled at every word however straight it was pitched, Ignan had looked over his shoulder at the men and nodded.

"I can always tell them no." He had told Georg, raising his eyebrows and smirking, enjoying the fact the inebriated woman he had his left arm around had resorted to kissing his neck. However much he would have liked to bed her for the night, though she wasn't the prettiest by a long shot, the thought of what the two figures by the bar wanted was a far deeper, deadlier draw to his personality.

Georg's expression hadn't agreed with Ignan's nonchalant response, and Ignan had noticed Georg had left the bar shortly after Ignan had left the table to join the two figures. Ignan had both lost the woman who had been tracing kisses across his neck and teasing his earlobe in a most delightful way despite her stifling scent, he had also lost his friend and travelling companion, who was undoubtedly furious with him.

So as Ignan unlocked the door to the set of rooms on the second floor of a house within a few minutes walk of the bar, nestled amongst other wizarding residences in a corner of Zurich popular with wizard traders who would stop over for days, or a few weeks from arriving from Asia, he anticipated a furious argument would commence.

"Georg?" He called out as nonchalantly as possible. It could equally have been that his companion had taken a long walk, perhaps to come to his senses that Ignan's interaction with the two wizards at the bar was not altogether a problem for them. After all, they didn't travel together on no income at all, and Ignan's recent business with wizards in Zurich and before that in towns across Northern Spain, Southern France and into Switzerland, had brought them plenty. Their movement was perfect for him to dispose of troublesome Muggles or insignificant magical types and then move on by the morning.

It didn't bother Ignan so much of late that Georg had caught him returning with bloodied hands more than once, read the deaths in newspapers. It didn't bother him quite as much that the two of them had argued furiously only a matter of days ago, and Ignan had got drunk and promised not to do it ever again. It didn't bother him that he had just broken that promise without hesitation.

"Georg, I need to speak with you." Best to get it out of the way. After all, what Ignan had just been asked to do was lucrative. The only catch was that he couldn't quite fill the needs alone given the information provided, he would need someone to help or at least mind his back. The only person he trusted to do that was Georg. When he found out how much they'd be paid, he was sure to see Ignan's reasoning.

Ignan's voice wasn't welcome at the moment; the young lady in Georg's lap quickly started to shrug her dress back into place. Georg scowled darkly; his longtime friend, years ago, would have just laughed off him telling him to wait; now... perhaps not. Not with that tone of voice...

"You'd better go," he told the girl, and she nodded and darted from their rooms, giving Ignan a worried look as she ran past him. Georg emerged from the room, buttoning his shirt, his displeasure obvious in his face and posture. Buttons mostly done, he crossed his arms, leaning on the door frame.

"Took the job, did you?" he said, exasperated; despite Ignan's words at the bar, he had no doubt he'd take it - Ignan seemed less and less to care about money, these days. There had always been a darker element to his friend - in a way it was what drew Georg to him, what made Ignan Ignan. But it had been more and more controlling - Ignan's humor was being increasingly replaced with dark mirth. It had gone beyond worrisome.

Ignan raised an eyebrow and gave a leering smirk at the woman who fled Georg's rooms. Oh, so he'd left with company, that seemed right. He always had been the one bringing women back every night. Waiting until she was gone, before turning to Georg he observed his friend's stature.

"Of course I did, we'd be fools not to the amount they're paying." Ignan replied in an upbeat tone, "Though, it deserves the higher ransom, few more necks that I'd usually take on in one go." He shrugged. "Nice legs by the way, hope I didn't interrupt..." Ignan thumbed to the door where the girl had just left.

"Listen Georg, because its a few more than I'd usually you know, take care of, on my own, do you think you could, watch my back - I wouldn't ask you do break anyone's neck, not really your style, just be another pair of eyes to check there's no interruptions?"

Ignan pushed ahead, averting his eyes from Georg's furious face,
"Be tomorrow night, six of them only the Ministry can't afford to try, apparently the last time they lost the auror who attempted it, but the Swiss never were that strong, and if their Ministry are employing us then Merlin they must need the help." He laughed hollowly.

Georg's scowl darkened; he looked away from Ignan, back into the darkness of his room. Nice to know your interest had was due to more than just money, he thought, his eyes narrowing. He was angry, of course - a simmering anger, but it was a sad kind of anger.

"We've talked about this before, Ignan. You know my feelings on your...side jobs. I have stayed silent and let you run off on them, but I'm not going to help you or join you in your...transgressions," he said firmly. "If the pay is as high as you claim, I'm sure you can find someone else in time."

He stood up, aware from the door frame, and unrolled his shirt sleeves. "If it's the Ministry you're helping, get some Aurors - or are they not your style?"

"I told you, Swiss aurors are awful." Ignan replied matter-of-factly folding his arms smugly. "That's why their superiors set up meetings with clever people like you and me to deal with their problems for them. They admire our work, and in return they'll leave us alone and pretend they don't know us, easy."

Actually, the conversation had gone along particularly suspicious lines and Ignan had resorted to legilmency to check the story matched up with the thoughts, and, alarmingly they did. He'd been almost convinced they were aurors out to entrap him, until he actually read how desperate they were.

They weren't the first, and would not be the last, he was sure, to be Ministry, to be those enforcing the law, but employing those who flouted it, to solve problems and address the balance of the criminals. Afterall, if there were no criminals, there would be no need for aurors, however incompetent. If the criminals didn't reduce or were not controlled then the aurors would be at fault, and no auror wants to be discovered to be useless, or turning a blind eye due to bribery... Or so desperate you literally beg a stranger and pay a little up front to ensure said stranger kills six wizards with a particular pattern or calling card left to mimic another group.

"I can't just ask anyone, Georg." Ignan appealed to his friend. "I don't just trust anyone to watch my back." He smirked at Georg and made out that was a particularly impressive claim.

"I trust you to the end of the earth, and you do me."

Georg rubbed his forehead, scowling darkly as Ignan spoke. "Our work?" He said coldly. They had indeed sometimes run criminals in together - a few years ago. It was when Ignan had started to not want them alive to answer questions, and had started taking jobs simply for money, that Georg had pulled out. There was a difference between vigilante and hired killer and Ignan seemed not to care which one he was.

The statements on trust made him all the angrier - because until recently it had been true. He had trusted Ignan and to realize he could no longer do so safely had been one of the major rifts between them - Ignan, however, did not seem to realize that.

"Then if you truly trust me, as you claim, do not take this job," Georg said levelly, voice surprisingly steady. "We have all the money we need at the moment, anyhow. You don't need to do it."

Ignan looked back and Georg and a smirk spread across his face in a most unpleasant way.

"But I don't do it for the money Georg."

His best friend was quite right, they didn't need the money in so many ways, they both had their ways of bringing in income as they travelled which in the past had been profitable, allowing them to stow away enough to keep them going in the months where income was lower. Ignan was particularly chipper that some of his more recent additions to the money had been lump sums from his night time dealings.

"What harm will it do - I'm helping the Swiss Ministry, for Merlin's sake. They need the assistance." Ignan reasoned, shrugging his shoulders and turning his palms uppermost as if weighing up the sides of the argument.

"If it bothers you so much, I won't accept their full fee. After all, they already paid me up front." He landed a small bag of money on the nearby table. It irritated him that Georg was so resistant about it all, why couldn't he see that what Ignan was doing was a favour to people, it was exactly what they used to do - only humiliating and hustling criminals didn't get so far these days, it took a few dead wastes of space on someone's doorstep to convince them enough was enough.

Ignan looked at his best friend sceptically, his tone verging on scathing disapproval of Georg's outlook.

"I know we've talked about this before, Georg, but I really don't understand what your great problem is. Its not like I'm the one causing pain and suffering to the people of Zurich. These characters I take out deserve what they receive, and worse." Ignan folded his arms across his chest smartly, and looked straight up at Georg.

"I am sure you wouldn't be so resistant about it if it was your family at the receiving end of the intimidation or whatever these individuals are up to, or even you."

The hell you don't, Georg thought, the smirk on Ignan's face making him want to step back a bit. He looked at the money, frown darkening. It certainly was a decent fee, if the clink of coin was any judge.

"No, you're not the one causing the problem," he said, agreeing on that, at least. "But don't fool yourself, Ignan; you've cared less and less about justice as of late." He hugged himself, rubbing his hands on his arms - getting this out in the open may be the best way, he reasoned. Best to get it over with.

"I'm worried, Ignan. You claim you're doing this to help people, but are you really? You killed that man's brother a few months ago simply on his request! My great problem is you're toeing a line, my friend, where innocents are going to be killed for pleasure, not money. And offering to do it for less is worse! I'm not comfortable killing people unless I have to, Ignan, that's what the issue is. You seem to relish it."

"But Georg, I care very much about justice." Ignan replied smoothly, stepping slowly and steadily across the room towards his friend. "If I didn't care for it, there would be no difference between me and a common killer." He pressed his palms together as if in prayer.

"That man's brother, Georg he had slept with his own brother's wife. I don't care what the newspapers reported after they found his body..." They had reported how he was an upstanding citizen, with three children who relied on him to bring income into the house as their mother was sick, they both knew that very well,

"I suppose if I'd been considering justice, I should have hurried the sick woman along..." Ignan shrugged, his tone so casual, as if discussing fictional people, not a family which was now struggling in the absence of their breadwinner - the real jealousy behind the brother that Ignan just had overlooked.

"What are six more people Georg?" Ignan asked, resting his hands very gently on his friend's tense shoulders, Ignan's grey-blue eyes seeking out Georg's.

"Absolutely nothing." He told Georg softly, patted his shoulders and dropped his arms to his sides. Ignan didn't care that a few days before he had promised Georg he wouldn't do this again, and had instantly broken his promise.

"I am bringing justice, and fine, I'll take the full fee - and if you promise to watch my back, you can have it - donate it wherever you want if you've such a problem with it. Then, I'll dispatch of the aurors, and that will give the Swiss Ministry another favour to repay me. You really have to see past this moral high-ground you're attempting to look down on me from, Georg." Ignan's arms folded once more and he looked genuinely irritated at his friend's stance.

"If you won't help me, I'll do it alone."

Georg stared at Ignan in horror, his mouth slightly open; flinching away from his touch, he stepped backwards, unconsciously raising his hands to defend himself.

Ignan's words sent chills down his spine - what in the world had happened? Even only a year ago, Ignan would never had said - never have thought! - anything like this. And yet he said it - calmly, as if it didn't matter.

And it didn't. That was perhaps the worst shock to go through Georg's mind - Ignan didn't care. He truly didn't think this was... important at all. And calmly offering to off the Aurors...and the sick woman...it was sickening, and made Georg's stomach twist unnaturally.

Georg stepped backwards, his shock boiling into anger. You bastard, he thought. You're no better than the monsters we put down, are you?

His mind focused for a moment and he punched Ignan across the face, putting his full weight into the blow. "You bastard," he spat, repeating the phase over and over in his mind. "You...what in the world is wrong with you?"

The blow sent Ignan staggering backwards in surprise. His arms went out behind him and the small of his back met one of the chairs tucked under the dining table, jabbing into him awkwardly. He saw stars and it took a moment for his head to right.

"Wrong with me?" Ignan spat venomously. Georg hadn't ever swung at him like that, not with such force and spite. His hand went to his chin automatically, and then to where the blow had landed.

"What's wrong with you?!" His wand was in his hand and all too hastily, he threw a curse to knock Georg off balance in much the same way.

"Planting fists like a common Muggle!" Ignan exclaimed, squaring up, his earlier optimism and good mood read to convince Georg to help shot from his mind. Instead the irritation of their recent arguments (which previously had been heated but hadn't come to blows) replaced it, and the surprise blow to his face and his pride put him immediately on the defensive.

"If you want to fight me Georg, do have the decency to pick up your wand!" Ignan snapped, his own poised in Georg's direction, keen to knock the man who had been his best friend for a decade, off his feet at the very least. The fact Georg underestimated him enraged Ignan.

Georg reeled back from the curse, gripping the door - his breath knocked from his body, eyes wide with shock. Not that he should have been shocked by Ignan's return fire; Georg shifted his arm, his wand sliding from his sleeve, resting in his hand. He drew it and gripped it tightly, pointing it at Ignan.

"You act as if I should accept such behavior from you! I expected it from my grandfather, Ignan - not from you!" he spat, keeping his wand trained on Ignan, just in case...and then his hand fell to his side.

"Should I use my wand on you? Are you worthy of an honorable duel, anymore? You're nothing but a monster now, Ignan. By all rights I should have drawn a sword!"

"More likely you have become a coward, Georg." Ignan hissed. "A coward to stand by me against these criminals, and instead stand there and call me a monster. It is you who are the monster, for stepping aside!"

The words hung in the air potently between them, Ignan's wand not lowering from Georg in all that time, his hand remarkably steady, having become accustomed to holding people at wand point while the adrenaline shot through him. The feeling was elation, and he could become drunk on it - though he was acutely addicted to it these days.

"You're all words Kirchlehner, no action behind them. Why should you demand my respect for that? At least I have the courage and the skill, what do you have? Nothing! You can't even keep a girl in your bed." Ignan thrust his left hand backwards to point to the door.

"I am the monster, for not helping you rid families of good men? I the monster, for not helping you slaughter women? Listen to yourself, you damn fool!" Georg retorted. "You've lost yourself to this!"

He didn't give Ignan a chance to reply to that - instead his wand swung up in his hand suddenly and the stunning spell blasted across the room, used wordlessly. "And to call me a coward - to say I am all words! How many years have I watched your back? How many times have I  saved you from death at the hands of dozens of lesser men! Do not make me think that I'd have done the world a greater service by adding you to their numbers, Ignan!"

Georg threw a wordless curse back, and distracted by his best friend's tone and words Ignan didn't protect himself, and instead was thrown backwards onto the floor, where he slid a few inches with the force, landing on his back.

"... Do not make me think that I'd have done the world a greater service by adding you to their numbers, Ignan!"

With a face like a spoilt child, Ignan went for a hex to yank Georg's feet forward, hoping to send him flying onto his back too, enough to give Ignan time to get to his feet and hold Georg at wand point. In the few seconds, Ignan had gone from talking with his best friend to seeing this only as an opponent who must be conquered. Unfortunately, he had the disadvantage on this side - of the two of them, Georg was the stronger duellist, proven in sport. His casting was neat, precise, calculated, exact. Ignan's tended to be more rough round the edges, dirty and recently, lethal quite before he had intended.

That small part of him came to life, calling for Georg's blood. If he won't help you, be rid of him it told Ignan. Break his neck, take the money it seethed in the back of his head, he is no longer useful to you.

In the moments that ensued, walls were scorched, glass shattered and furniture overturned. The majority of the mess caused by Ignan, whose rational side fought with the desire to rip Georg limb from limb, forcing the furniture and the room to take the full brunt of his longing to murder his friend there and then.

Then, at last, the irrational, murderous side broke through.

Like a bystander in his own head, the now diminished, best friend of Georg Kirchelener yelled silently as if a third party in the room, watching his wand arm raise, the words of the killing curse forming on his lips - part way in when Georg intervened, with the precision and skill of the better man that he was, and ended the horrific argument between the two men who had until that evening, been the best of friends for a decade.

The last glimpse Ignan caught of Georg before the younger man rendered Ignan unconscious forcefully, would remain with him.