The pocket watch had belonged to Sasha's grandfather.  The white gold casing was inlayed with sky blue sapphire in a checkered pattern to resemble the Bavarian flag - the contrast remarkably restrained given the chosen gems.  The Bavarian crest was embossed on the back in yellow gold.  Rudolf Waldgraf had, supposedly, given it to Sasha the day he'd been christened after the man at the Frauenkirche in Munich just as his father had given it to him.  The piece had been passed down from father to son for, they claimed, at least six generations though tradition forced them to skip Sasha's mother's generations.  Marie Schlagenweith had had no brothers and both of her uncles had been killed in the war before having children of their own.  Sasha almost never wore it.  But, it had been his since he was an infant and Wilhelm knew that.  No one could claim the item didn't belong. 

Wilhelm had left for town half an hour ago and wasn't due to return until much later that evening.  Sasha stood at the edge of the shallow, murky pond, the pocket watch held gently between his fingers.  With the hour hand wound backwards to the three and the minute hand wound forwards to the eleven, the back of the pocket watch's casing clicked open and green plastic guitar pick fell out into Sasha's open palm.  Immediately, something unseen tugged at Sasha's navel and the pond vanished in a blur.  In the next moment, Sasha found himself standing a short distance from a very familiar building. 

The front path and massive doors had been firmly branded in Sasha's memories though they had been heavily distorted over the past few months.  An image and a flicker of emotion rose in his mind as those heavy front doors swung open: A scarred face, the terror of being helpless and immobile amongst a group of strangers and the certainty with which he was waiting for some lonely death.  But, death never came.  And, as time wore on, the face of the villain shifted to others.  It had been months since, in Sasha's mind, Kronos had been exonerated of any wrong doing in the whole affair.

Guilt had been fully transferred to the others around Kronos; to the likes of the man that strode into the entrance hall.  That cluster of fear and uncertainty surged, involuntarily, at the sight of the man and Sasha cast a quick glance towards the door behind him.  But, there was no mistaking - the message had asked him to come to this location and it had been in the old man's writing.  He took a deep, uneasy breath but forced himself to turn back towards the man, trying to remind himself that things were, now, very different than they'd been during that first meeting.  Sasha knew it was highly unlikely the man opposite would intentionally hurt him, though not for any sentimental reasons.  Sasha wasn't that foolish.  But he believed the man before him was probably far too arrogant to risk his own life for the likes of Sasha. 

Despite that certainty, he was still surprised to find his voice sounded as confident as it did when he finally spoke.  "I'm supposed to be meeting Kronos, sir.  He asked me to meet him here."  He carefully slipped the guitar pick back into the pocket watch and, after making sure the chain was securely attached to his belt loop, slipped the watch into his pocket.  Formalities were, probably, unnecessary.  But, Sasha figured, they also couldn't hurt.  "I ... um ... I can wait for him."

The months since his encounter with the Jewish mage had passed too slowly.  Tiresias had never been one to shy from confrontation, but he knew how to stay alive: when to confront and when to disappear into the shadows.  Whatever revenge he might wish on the man that he had once known as Bünyamin, on his angry younger brother and the dark wizard who had so quickly overpowered him, it could wait until he was certain of his own survival.

He had run once when matters with Gözde had gone sour.  It had not ended well, and the lesson learned was that often, cloaking oneself in the darkness was better.  His present employer, though sometimes frustrating, was useful when it came to the latter.  Kronos Malvivicus had spent decades avoiding the glare of the United Kingdom's Aurors.  If Terry wanted to similarly vanish from their sight, he merely needed to stay where he was.

He could stomach most of the Old Man's eccentricities, but the boy was an irritant.  Tiresias couldn't comprehend it.  He was nothing; nothing special.  Why anyone would possibly be after him, save to compete with Malvivicus's own interest, he did not understand.  But the Old Man insisted, and insisted that he must be trained to defend himself.  Tiresias would have rolled his eyes, but he knew better than to rattle the cauldron.  The Jewish mage was still out there somewhere even if he'd shaken him out of scrying, and behind him, the dark one that Terry had no intention of meeting again.

It was darkly amusing to think that the boy was so trusted now.  The Portkey brought him to the front door, and he entered with undue haste.  It was somewhat satisfying to see him stop short, to turn to the exit when he realized who was waiting to greet him.  The Greek wizard allowed himself a slight smirk, his gaze shifting over the boy, silently taking his measure.  Young.  Still naive and too trusting.  Not anywhere near a threat.

"He asked you to meet here," he corrected him flatly, dark eyes already locked on the youth's own.  Quick, careful movements.  Cautious.  Deliberate.  Terry smirked again without a trace of humor.  "Not meet him.  The Old Man isn't coming."

To meet here.  Yes.  To meet.  Here.  Slowly, Sasha's chin dipped in time to each phrase replaying in his head, confusion showing in his eyes as they darted around the room.   He was analyzing and reanalyzing the phrasing over in his head, desperately searching for something that was proof that it was Katsaros who was mistaken.  Not him. 

But, current evidence was pointing to the contrary.  There was no one else in attendance when Sasha surveyed the room, again.  If Kronos was here; if Kronos had intended to meet with him, he would have been the one to meet Sasha.  Not Katsaros. 

"He- Kronos wanted me to meet you?"  It was phrased as a question but the answer had already been provided and was, indeed, standing right in front of him.  A dark grin had settled on the man's face but Sasha knew better than to trust it at face value.  He didn't trust this man.  Everything about him made Sasha uneasy and every experience with him only reaffirmed the belief the man wasn't trustworthy. 

But, it had still been Kronos who'd summoned him - the message had been in the old man's own hand.  The man wouldn't have asked him to come if Katsaros meant him harm.  He had faith in Kronos and trusted the man's motives in arranging this meeting. 

"Alright," Sasha finally conceded, tipping his head forward in a single nod, surprising even himself with the obvious touch of disappointment in his tone.  "What did he want me to you for?"

Schlagenweit was too easy to read.  His expression faltered, his eyes flickered around the room, searching for an escape, an excuse that wasn't there.  Tiresias watched him, more out of necessity than any real curiosity.  If it hadn't been for the Old Man, the boy wouldn't have been of any interest to him.  There was no challenge here.  There was no threat.  Minus the boy's role as his employer's protege, Terry would have ignored him.

"Yes.  He wanted me to meet you," he said flatly.  The order of object and subject wasn't really important, but the boy shouldn't be left under delusions.  Terry wasn't here to be met by Schlagenweit.  Whatever Malvivicus's intentions, the hierarchy would be made clear. 

He turned and strode from the entrance hall, trusting that the boy would follow.  He'd learned plenty about Schalgenweit in the past few months; he had never been interested in the boy himself, but first by dictum of Malvivicus, he'd watched him.  After the duel at the Winter Festival, he'd watched him with another purpose.  He knew Schalgenweit was connected to the Jewish Seer.  To the man who once went by Bünyamin, who now went by Dreogan Eleor.  That was reason enough for his interest.

He stayed silent, letting the boy's question hang in the air as he maintained his pace.  Normally, these sessions took place in the practice chamber, created by Malvivicus for his charge's benefit.  Today, they'd be going somewhere different.

"The Old Man has been teaching you to defend yourself," he said at last, his voice low and stoic.  That was a lie.  None of the spells that the boy had been learning were defense, not in any definition of the word.  They were made to attack, to wound; if Schlagenweit was willing to believe that they were intended to defend, then he was even farther gone under Malvivucus's spell than anyone would think.

Tiresias smirked, looking at the boy at last as he held his gaze in an unspoken challenge.  "How good is your control?"

Katsaros turned and moved off.  The Ravenclaw remained where he was, watching the man's back, fixed in place by his own indecision.  By now, he was familiar enough with this residence to know the man wasn't heading in the direction of the practice room. 

He didn't trust Katsaros.  That certainly hadn't changed.  But, the situation he was facing now was entirely different than when he'd first stood with Katsaros in this entrance hall.  The differences were numerous but the most crucial one was: Sasha had come of his own volition and, if he so chose, could turn and leave as well.  He wasn't a captive.  He was an invited guest and it had still been Kronos who'd invited him.  Chances were, Katsaros wouldn't care if Sasha just left, it would only be Kronos who would be disappointed. 

That thought steeled Sasha's resolve and, with a deep breath, he followed the man. 

"Yes, he has been," Sasha confirmed.  Kronos had told him he was learning to stand up for himself and to defend himself.  During those first few sessions, Sasha had been much too terrified to worry about the motives behind the spells: he'd been more concerned with doing a passable enough job at the task to satisfy the old man so he wouldn't be discarded (literally and figuratively) as a waste of time.  But, he'd come to accept the man's words at face value.  If Kronos had told him he was learning to defend himself, that's what Sasha believed.  "I assume - is this because of the werewolf attack?"  Were there special protection spells and charms for werewolves?  "Is he going to be around later?  He's not unwell, is he?" 

"Control, sir?"  Sasha met the man's gaze uneasily but continued following.  "Like, magical control?"  He wasn't entirely sure what that meant.  So far, what he'd learned to do with magic was rather primary in nature.  Either it worked and something came out of his wand or it didn't.  It was an on or off system not a scale system.  "I'm doing better with my new wand," Sasha admitted, tugging the marbled, golden-hued wand from his pocket.  "I kind of just found the wand I had when I was here the first time.  So, it hadn't chosen me.  They say I ... well, ... that I won this one so it seems to work pretty well for me.  I don't know if that's what you mean by control, though."