From the moment that Trishna had first asked to bring guests, Jonas had fully intended to find a way to make it work.  The way the Professor had phrased the question -- bringing friends -- had caught his interest, and he was curious to see just who came along.

The crowd that arrived late in the afternoon to visit Kanika was not entirely what he would have guessed.  Trishna, his daughter and his sister -- the girl whom, if Jonas's suppositions were correct, had been born under the auspicious star of Vedir Prideaux -- were mostly predictable.  Apparently the astronomer felt safe enough with his mother that he was willing to risk bringing both girls along.

But the last member of the party -- Jonas let the Defense Professor's presence pass without comment.  That was interesting.  He wasn't certain if he was there as friendly support for Trishna, or if he was the 'friend' that the other wizard had referenced.  Only time would tell.

Well, time and eavesdropping spells.

They'd already laid out the rules clearly to the visitors.  No wands.  No spells.  No one was to approach Hyskos, or attempt to give her anything.  They had to stay seated firmly on the opposite side of the table.  If they got too close, if she became agitated to a dangerous level -- if any of them became agitated -- then the visit was off.  Whether or not to eventually bring the girls inside was Trishna's decision, but it was very clearly at their own risk.  In the meantime, both children would be waiting outside the soundproofed interrogation chamber with Rutkowski, a Hitwizard who had already turned her steely gaze onto the two students.

"Alright then, are you?" Jonas asked, and then checked his watch.  "I've got to get back to work.  You lot run into any trouble, then just wave and Rutkowski will step in."  And summon up half of the department in the process - Kanika, for all her grace and charm, had not won herself any friends on Level Two after she'd bitten off a rookie Hitwizard's ear. 

He flashed Trishna a tight, controlled smile.  "Good luck, Professor," he said quietly, as he started for the door.  "Just shout if you need anything."

He was nervous, which was to be expected - but his attempts to hide it had mostly failed, and he'd been dropping things and being forgetful since the night before. He'd tried to keep it under control, if only for the benefit of the girls, who seemed outwardly quite calm about the whole affair.

They'd had to reveal the lie a few days before, and Cyhirae in particular seemed to still be peeved. Georgiana had accepted this with remarkable calm, given her past history - had he been in a clearer state of mind, he might have wondered about that. For now he took it as a sign of long-overdue maturity.

Getting everyone rounded up and to the Ministry on time had gone remarkably smoothly, for all his fumbling. Thankfully, his most recent visit to the Ministry had prepared him for the whole process again; he hadn't been here in years until the 9th, and the girls had never been. He wasn't sure about Ignan.

The Aurors were as strict as he'd expected, and he relinquished his wand with hesitation. It made sense, of course, but being without it was not a good feeling, especially since he wasn't sure, right now, whose side he was on, or who in this building was on his.

"Thank you, Mister Trevelyan," he told Jonas, offering him an echoing tight smile. As the redhead vanished back into the main part of the office, Tapendra looked at the door to the cell. Nervous he might be, but he was glad of one fact - he wasn't about to split tail and run home. He set his jaw.

"Want me to go in first?" He asked Ignan, glancing between the older man and the girls.

Without his wand, Ignan felt decidedly unprotected. The particular wand had been his for the past decade, and he'd become rather attached to it. After having his snapped in Italy before he was pushed out (undoubtedly they were hoping he'd be killed accidentally-on-purpose) he'd acquired a temporary wand by thieving one, which had been horrific, but bought him enough time before he'd purchased his current one which had stuck with him since.

He'd spent the whole night going through every possibility he could imagine about how the day would pan out, what he would, or could say, including the distinct possibility it could be overheard, interpreted. He'd even contemplated telling Tapendra he wouldn't attend, but it would let the poor man down, and he had his daughter and sister to take care of. Ignan had long since gone past the need to be taken care of, though his utter confusion over how he felt about possibly facing Azorma - however restrained - after effectively abandoning her a decade ago caught him every time. Why hadn't she hunted him down?

The Ministry was vaguely familiar - though it had been more decades than Ignan cared to comment that he had last been inside. The majority of it was unfamiliar and he allowed himself to be guided along with the rest of the group, his mind firmly and unfalteringly closed - an almighty headache already brewing.

"She's your mother." Ignan replied to Tapendra's query about who should enter first. The comment to his younger friend was slightly scathing, suggesting it was a silly question. His palms were clammy and cold, and his eyes barely blinked, keeping alert.
"I can wait with them if you want to be sure its her." He suggested far more softly, the group hesitating.

"Alright." He glanced at the large blonde hitwizard, who was watching them without watching them; her gaze apparently at some point in the distance that just happened to be towards them.

"Give me a few minutes, then," he told Ignan, and slipped through the door, closing it behind him.

The figure in the chair was...not what he'd expected, really. She was small - very small, though he had to remind himself that last time he'd seen her, he'd only been a foot taller as opposed to the nearly two feet he was now. Her long black hair was somewhat unkept, untrimmed, and her prison garb was clearly a size too large and hung off her body. Adding the scars and stress lines on her face, she looked like a wreck.

One thing hadn't changed, however, and that was her glare. She turned it on him in full force the instant he'd opened the door, her blues eyes a mirror of his own. They stared in silence for what felt like minutes before her gaze softened and she looked  to the table.

"Dragged you into this, have they? Should've known. Trevelyan can't keep his ugly nose out of other's business," she said, voice raspy. Her body language relaxed somewhat and Tapendra moved forward.

"Bastard," she added, with feeling. "Remind me to rib 'is bits off if I get the chance. What does he want you here for? 'e's not getting my money, if that's what he's tryin' for. Nor is he gettin' who I was working for or who I've worked with." Professional pride and courtesy require that secret to go to her grave with her. They'd paid her, after all.

"I asked to come. Trevelyan's.." Tapendra paused, one hand on the table and aware of the rules - he had to stay on one side. The room was certainly bugged in some way - it'd be stupid for it not to be.

"Trevelyan's after the Runespoors," he said, hoping that got the message across. "He came to me on his recommendation," he added. "He thought I'd gab, apparently." They'd set up chairs and he sat in one sideways, arm resting on the top of it.

His mother grunted, but the set of her jaw and a faint hiss of breath indicated her rising, bubbling anger. "Did you?" she asked, gaze rising from the floor again.

"No," he said, quickly, but under her suddenly firey gaze he looked down to the floor, feeling very distinctly like he was 15 again.

"Don't lie to me, boy. I haven't seen you in years and you're still terrible at it," she said, scowling. "I hope you retained enough sense not to prattle on. How much did you tell him?" Had her hands been free, he was sure she'd have had him by the ear by now. He settled for a weak, "Enough to make him go away."

"Hrmph. Too much, then. You were never good at dealing with Aurors," she said. "You're a damn giant now; learn to use it. Have you no pride?"

They sat in silence for a moment; her in waiting, and he in a kind of overload. It was she who spoke first, shifting uncomfortably in her bonds.

"I'm sorry about your wife," she said. "She seemed like a fine woman," her voice was soft - a tone the Aurors hadn't heard, and that they could reasonably assume she might be incapable of making.

"The Aurors told you?" he asked, looking up, not sure how to take her sudden soft tone. It was likely a defeat, and in some ways made him feel worse than her obstinate anger would have.

She laughed, a kid of raspy bark. "Hah! These jackals wouldn't tell me the time of day, least of all that. No. I watched you," she said, as if stalking her own offspring was the most normal thing in the world. She ignored his wide eyes as she continued, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "What kind of mother would I be if I hadn't?" she said, answering his unspoken question. "I know a fair amount. Yes, I got your letters," she added. "Sent 'em back. Was safer than you bein' involved. Can't say I approve," she continued, tone regaining its scatching tone, "Of your muggle-lovin'. Your wife was right to get on your case about it."

Tapendra wasn't sure what to say to that. On one hand, knowing she had watched and seemingly cared was incredibly good to know; on the the other hand, he hadn't wanted her to know about the 'muggle-lovin'. And how had she found out about the arguments he and Judy had?

He glanced at the door. "Trevelyan knows about Italy," he said suddenly, if only to change the subject, and that changed her back to the much more assuring stance of 'angry harpy'.

"Of course he does," she growled. "Bet their Aurors were quick to decorate those files," she said darkly. "Never caught me, the bastards. They tried, though; laid a good trap. Nearly got both - nearly got me." Her gaze returned to the floor, and then she looked up sharply.

"Did Trevelyan tell you that?" she asked, quickly. "You'd better not be associating with the wrong sort, boy, or I'll-"

Tapendra standing up cut her off, his hand reaching for the door. "A friend of mine told me, actually," he said, as calmly as he could manage. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but damn if that was going to stop him. He opened the door enough to motion Ignan in, looking back to his mother with a cautious look.

Ignan resolutely looked anywhere but the Ministry attendants, Georgiana and Cyhirae, convinced his expression might give a hint away of anything. Paranoia had set in.

Suddenly the door opened - Tapendra was beckoning him in. Ignan cast a glance to the two girls, who were undoubtedly impatient and now confused as to why he was being asked to step inside as opposed to them.

Clearing his throat, he firmly closed his mind, the headache ever stronger, and stepped into the room, slipping his hands from his suit pockets as he did.

He didn't speak for quite a few seconds as the two of them stared at each other, much like cats on opposing territories, frozen, measuring each other up, willing the other one to submit. Time had not been gracious to either of them, though it was hardly surprising given their professional responsibilities in their younger years. Fit and scarred yes, but they had not escaped weathering.

"You look well, considering you have been dead over a decade." He told her softly, his voice almost failing him, adrenaline currently thundering through him with raised pulse, hearing absolutely acute.
"Clearly something isn't quite right, and before you say its me, think who is immobilised."

It was taking a mammoth effort to keep his emotions in check. Every inch of him wanted to walk away as if he needed to leave, only walk a little too close to the blonde witch and snap her neck for her wand, and let her escape. To run, leave everything behind, just for her.

But who was he tricking? He was in the middle of the British Ministry, with no wand, watched and listened to, with two teenage girls just outside the door who would witness it all, and Tapendra, who would be left charged with conspiracy. A decade ago he'd have not thought of such consequences, but age and new relationships, and old friends pinned him to the ground as much as Azorma was secured it seemed.

He'd break her neck but they'd be here in seconds.

"Of course they are listening, so we shall not give them reason to incriminate us incorrectly." Ignan gestured with a hand to the air around them. "I wouldn't put it past them, from what I have heard they are desperate to charge you with everything they can." He slid his hands back into his suit pockets, and paced behind Tapendra to the far wall, where he leant against it, his eyes never leaving her.

Him. She bared her teeth unconsciously, her blue eyes narrowed into a bright slits, her wild hair tossed back over her shoulder with a flick of her head. Ignan's appearance sent a lot of emotion through her; sadness, a moment of happiness, shock. All were squelched in seconds by the boiling anger that reminded her what he'd done to her and everyone else - how much had been ruined because of his cowardice, and how hard it had been to leave him, to let him go, after all that.

Tapendra had retreated, perhaps unconsciously, to the far corner of the cell, his back to the wall. A part of her didn't blame him, though the rest of her was annoyed that he still didn't have a damn spine. If shed had time she'd have surgically implanted one.

"No thanks to you," she said finally, scowling darkly, not sure what he meant - sure it was a trap of some kind. "Trevelyan's reaching far if he though dragging you here would - a friend," her gaze shot to her son, then back to Ignan. "You'd better not be corrupting him, Ignan. He's impressionable as is, I don't need him to be a goddamn..."

The gods damned Aurors were listening, of course. She snarled, yanking at her bonds, which made them tighten slightly.

"What are you doing here?" She finally asked, after a pause, her voice quieter, apparently less angry. Her gaze never left him, though, and she watched him like a hawk. "If you've come to apologize, you're a bit late for that," she added with a harsh laugh. "Not that I'd accept it."

"What are you doing here? If you've come to apologize, you're a bit late for that, not that I'd accept it."

"Not that I'd expect or ask you to." Ignan retorted instantly, his back leaving the wall slightly as he said it, and his arms folded, his hands fists, despite himself. He closed his eyes slowly and turned to look at the door, thinking about what he could say. Everything he had thought of, planned, decided upon to say until now had fallen foul before her.

"They took memories, forced answers with serum. I did not have the right to resist. I wasn't what they were looking for, clearly, and nor could I be of use once they'd got what they wanted." He met her glare again  "No excuse, not ever, but context." He intoned carefully, deep frown upon his face.

Rubbing his throbbing temples, he added,
"Why do I have a vivid, horrific memory of them taking you down, when you're here? I told your own son you were dead. I've carried that for a decade woman - you think I ran out of cowardice?!" He gestured to her as if reaching to her, exasperated. 

Her gaze finally left him and found the floor again. She'd slumped forward slightly, letting the chains take her weight as Ignan spoke.

"I don't know why you remember that," she said levelly. "It didn't happen. You walked into a trap that I warned you about," Her tone hinted she still owed him a slap for that, "I tried to save you, and you got caught anyway, and I had to flee or get caught myself. And then, before we could even think about trying to save you, the Aurors were on us. With information they got from you." She seemed a little less angry; aware, really, that she was too eager to believe he hadn't had a choice in the matter. It did seem like something the damn Italian aurors would do, anyhow; they might be in the pockets of the most powerful families, but give them the opportunity to make a high profile arrest...and was much easier to believe than Ignan having throw everything away to save his own skin.

"So you thought I was dead, then?" That certainly explained his bizarre retreat and his apparent whitewashing. "Hmph. Did you believe him?" She asked Tapendra, suddenly, and her son jumped a bit before he finally nodded silently. She sighed, looking back to Ignan with apparent calm, her tone matter-of-fact.

"I thought you ran to save your own skin," she said. "You're lucky you did. You'd have wound up in the canals, if you hadn't."

"I don't know why you remember that, It didn't happen. You walked into a trap that I warned you about, I tried to save you, and you got caught anyway, and I had to flee or get caught myself. And then, before we could even think about trying to save you, the Aurors were on us. With information they got from you."

Ignan set himself down in one of the chairs opposite her at the table, looking as if he'd seen a ghost, forgetting Tapendra was in the room, or the two girls were stood outside. Whatever the current circumstances were, he was just glad to be close to her, to see her again, to know he hadn't caused her death - he'd just caused them to be forced apart instead. That he could live with.

"So you thought I was dead, then? Hmph. Did you believe him?" Tapendra must have nodded.

"I thought you ran to save your own skin, you're lucky you did. You'd have wound up in the canals, if you hadn't."

"I wound up in plenty of canals either way." Ignan replied, the slightest hint of humour to his tone, and his features found a fleeting smile, attempting to make eye contact again. "You made sure of that…" The fleeting smile turned into a smirk, a keen memory of those warm nights. He  brought himself short, realising what he was saying. Well, any good auror would already have found out… Just as he'd warned Georg.

"There's a lot happened in ten years, clearly." He remarked, wanting to convey so much to her, but unable to because of those listening. "But we have no time."

Turning suddenly to look over his shoulder, he spoke to Tapendra apologetically.
"Forgive me, Georgiana and Cyhirae are still outside. I intrude on your family reunion." Glancing back at Azorma fondly, he awkwardly patted the table with his fingertips, realising he couldn't do anything more, so instead stood and walked to the door near to where Tapendra lurked.
"I'll fetch them in." He glanced over his shoulder to Azorma, his expression sad.

She returned the smile - more of a fond smirk, in her case. "Hah, yes. Covered in blood, mud or...other miscellaneous materials, usually." She said that for the benefit of Tapendra, whose eyes were squeezing shut as he tried desperately not to process what they might be referring to.

Ignan stood, ready to summon the girls. Azorma paused, expression oddly soft. "Ignan," she said. "I chose not to kill you, you know," she said, suddenly looking anywhere but him and shuffling uncomfortably; incredibly angry at her bonds, at Jonas, even at Tappy for being there and not letting them be alone, even for a minute. "I didn't want to. Even after what I thought you'd done."

That admission out of the way, she steeled herself again, and shrugged. "Might as well see what the girls turned out to be like, eh?"

"Ignan, I chose not to kill you, you know, I didn't want to. Even after what I thought you'd done."

"Then I will be forever thankful, and know I have an even bigger debt to pay." He uttered in return, feeling despite himself, the slightest bit tearful as emotions began to work their way to the surface, the occlumency would be weakening.

"Might as well see what the girls turned out to be like, eh?" Glad of the change of subject, Ignan nodded,

"You'll be pleased, I hope." He told her, and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor, clearing his throat.

"You're quite safe, Tapendra would like you to step inside." He told Georgiana and Cyhirae, quite sure the older one saw that as a covering fib, given he wasn't able to make eye contact, and his odd behaviour. He shooed them in, giving Tapendra an uncomfortable look through the doorway. Now he felt he was intruding, that was Tapendra's family, and Ignan wasn't part of it.

He let out a long sigh knowing that it could well be the last time he saw her, unless there was public trial. Equally, he could be joining her, though technically he had never raised a wand to commit an offence while on British soil - so it was beyond them. The Italians wouldn't want him back, he wasn't allowed back, and they couldn't trial him now, even the corruption had improved a little over there in a decade or so.

It would be any other one of them on the way before he met Azorma that might have a stake, but it was not quite that he was worried about. Instead, it was more that his post at Hogwarts was now at risk, should anyone decide he was unsuitable as a tutor.

Durmstrang hadn't asked questions, they'd been forced by Ignan's father, Merik, and his influence as a former Headmaster to comply, but in the final years, it was clear he was disliked, not just for the experimentation with Obteils (the best of the students) that caused damage to the buildings or the equipment. Another reason he'd taken the chance to fill Mainwaring's shoes when they were unfilled mid autumn term.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to cry, laugh or single handedly murder something at that moment - a combination of all three might have served just as well.

Cyhirae was bored. She supposed it was her fault in not bringing anything, but that still didn't change the fact that there was nothing to do. She shoved her hands in her pockets and slumped on the bench stewing and pouting. 

She understood that her father deserved to have some alone time, but why choose Professor Storm to go next? Why is he going in? Why is he even here?

"You're quite safe, Tapendra would like you to step inside."

Cy scrambled after Georgiana, eager to meet the grandmother she had heard so much about. Cyhirae gave Storm an odd look as she followed Georgiana  into the room. The professor was acting...odd. He seemed depressed about something. She pushed it to the back of her mind as the door closed behind her  and she stared at the woman in front of her.

Even though Cy had seen pictures of her grandmother it was still hard to put this woman before her as her father's mother; they didn't look anything alike. It was really only the bright blue eyes that all of them shared that confirmed that this woman was her grandmother.

After all this anticipation Cyhirae suddenly felt nervousness come over her and resisted ducking behind her father. She waved shyly, "Hullo."

She watched Ignan's back, feeling like a timebomb. It was easy, in her case, to bury the need to cry and scream and tell him everything she felt under her boiling rage, and then suppress that in a odd kind of tranquility. She was, however, fully intending to break out of Azkaban and carve Jonas into tiny chunks. And then eat them.

The girls entered, and Tapendra moved automatically, his hands coming to rest firmly on both of their shoulders, holding both of them against him. She couldn't tell if that was for their benefit, or his.

Cyhirae spoke first; Georgiana said nothing, but looked...lost. The older girl's hand come up and quietly rest over her brother's.

"Hello," Azorma responded, looking Cyhirae up and down. The girl was clearly nervous; part of her pride, damaged though it was, swelled at that. The girl had every right to be in awe, of course - when else would she get to meet her? All the better than she carried her blood. She should be honored by that fact alone.

Azorma nodded in encouragement. "Cyhirae, is it? Take after your mother," she told her, as if this was an order - and it was. "She was an admirable woman. Your father is far too soft, though," she shot a look at Tappy that was surprisingly warm, even if it was fleeting. "He's determined, I'll give him that. Even if he gets too wrapped up in the wrong things."

Her gaze turned to Georgiana, who met her gaze nervously. Azorma's eyes narrowed.

"You need to take after me," she told her, finally. "Your father was a right bastard, but a magnificent one. As much as I hate him, he's a clever sonofabitch. Combine that with my blood and you will do fine. No matter your parental situation." She smirked at both of the girls. "You're from a line of wizards who took no shit and forgave no insult against them. That might have skipped a generation with Tapendra; don't let it skip you. Be proud."

Georgiana wasn't sure what to make of her mother. She was much smaller than she'd imagined, but the eyes were definitely everything Tapendra had described - cold, calculating. A hint of warmth that was fleeting and then gone. And above all, pride. It radiated off the woman as she spoke of blood and her family, her jaw set and posture stiff and proud.

She wasn't, at that moment, sure if she wanted to take after either parent. Though she'd never admit it to him, her brother's hand on her shoulder was incredibly welcome - feeling like an anchor for her mind. It was easier focus on the warmth of his hand than it was to try and sort over her tangled emotions. She almost wasn't aware of her hand drifting up to rest on his fingers.

Was she proud? She didn't, in that moment, know. She was proud of her family, in her own way. Her family, in this case, being the tiny group now in this cell. Her parents had never been factors in her life until now.

But - this creature in front of them was her mother, and she could see it. Physically, yes, but emotionally too - her take-no-shit attitude and the feeling that she hadn't lost, even though she was chained to a chair in the cells, was something she could identify with. But was that a good thing...?

"Uh," she started, instantly aware that wasn't the first word she'd wanted to say to her mother. She glanced up at Tapendra, who had his head bowed, his expression oddly blank. He seemed to be quietly else were, taking his mother's discouraging talk with a quiet that indicated years of practice.

Georgiana set her jaw. "Tappy's not that bad," she said, finally. "W-when family's at stake, even he'd...he would protect us, no matter the cost. I think." She unconsciously borrowed Ignan's words, not sure what to say herself, but wanting to say something. She felt the vague start from her brother, then the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

"Besides," she added, with a lighter tone and a cock of her hip, "He'd make a good shield if you needed one. He's big enough." She smirked, and to her surprise got a returning one from her mother.

"You're from a line of wizards who took no shit and forgave no insult against them. That might have skipped a generation with Tapendra; don't let it skip you. Be proud."

Cyhirae twitched, furious at her grandmother's disparaging statements about her father. Her shyness  disappeared in a wave of fury. And the fact that her father did nothing in his defense was merely the icing on top of the cake. "DON"T you dare talk about Daddy that way you stupid bint." Cyhirae raged at her grandmother.

"He's way tougher than you think. And what would you know anyway, you haven't seen him since Daddy was 17. And he's scary when he's mad. I've seen it." She then proceed to blow a raspberry at her grandmother and crossed her arms and sniffed.