It was nearly midnight when Ventus left his home in Scotland. His wife, Jordan, saw him off at the door, and he left her with a kiss on the cheek. He strode quickly down the lane, and out the main gate of his manor. Pausing for a moment, he checked to see his wand was around his wrist. Once sure that it was, he lock the gate with a slight twitch of his arm.

He smiled to himself, and pointed his arm in front of him. "Expecto Patronum," he said quietly, and a large silvery cobra sprang from his wand. It was nearly the size of a python, and Ven often thought of it as a pet. "Go to the manor of Alberic Grimm," he told it. "Wake him if you have to, I don't care how, and tell him to meet me in Trafalgar Square. I'll be waiting by the statue of Lord Nelson. We have much to discuss."

With that the snake curled itself up and sprang off into the night sky. Ventus waited a moment and idly rubbed the black scars on the side of his head. Rumor had it that this Grimm was some sort of Necromancer, capable of bringing back the souls of individuals. That was not something Ventus could afford to ignore. Suddenly, Ventus looked up at the sky, and with a small pop, he vanished.

When Ven opened his eyes he found himself looking at a large, majestic fountain. Colored lights illuminated the water, and made different patterns. He stood there gazing at it for a time, impressed with the concept. Muggles always did come up with interesting ways. Finally content with the sight, Ventus turned and strode towards the large monument of Lord Nelson.

He gazed up at it, again impressed by the craftsmanship of Muggles. He stepped quickly onto the base of the monument, and turned to face the rest of the Square, his eyes drawn back to the fountains. Tucking his harms behind the small of his back, Ventus exhaled slightly, and waited for his contact

Nothing might have seemed odd about sleepy Trafalgar Square, this late at night--the cars still whizzed by, the Krispy Kreme Donuts sign still flickered across the street though it was, undoubtedly empty, St. Martin's church rested where it had for centuries, and the bench where visitors sat to feed crumbs to the square's resident pigeons stood empty.

But undoubtedly, bird by bird, it the place was changing.

The first dark visitor to arrive--a dark raven--glided quietly overhead, perching itself unceremoniously upon Lord Nelson's darkened head. It looked down at the summoner with dark, beady eyes.

It was joined by three more, perched upon the Vice Admiral's oxidized shoulders; one dove to walk along the back of one of the four lion statues guarding the base of the column.  And several more congregated into a congress, a veritable unkindness of ravens[1] at the base of the steps to the National Gallery.  They cawed excitedly, preening their feathers and stretching their wings, as in their midst, the shadows rose and amassed like smoke rising.[2].  The shadows began to receed, and a man dressed in a smart black boat cloak, black trousers, and a black bowler cap, brushed the remaining shadows from the folds of his cloak, stomping them lightly from his shoes.

A raven hopped up to perch upon his shoulder, running its beak affectionately through the man's short, dark hair, though Alberic paid it little attention to it and, in tolerating it, acknowledged it.  He began to approach the column, walking between the fountains, ignoring the ravens trailing after him.

As with any other waking hour, Alberic Grimm really could not be bothered to think much of the feelings of others. And so, as he approached the summoner—the one who’d sent a cobra patronus—he stated drily, "You're young. I thought it might be that.”  Presumptuousness seemed inherent in the young. He eyed the other man with impassivity.

1.	Quite appropriately, a flock of ravens can be called "an unkindness of ravens," "a congress of ravens," "a constable of ravens" or "a conspiracy of ravens." This is not to be confused with a "murder of crows." Unlike their genteel cousins, crows are more brutish and uncivilized creatures and therefore seem incapable of forming bodies of government or orchestrating nefarious plots.
2.	Alberic is using the same method of Apparition as the Death Eaters, as portrayed in the Harry Potter films.

With a short evil laugh Ventus stepped towards the man. "And yet, even in my youth, I was able to call you here" Ventus smiled viciously. "That must say something about one of us." He paused about a foot out from whom he assumed to be Alberic Grimm. Not exactly what he expected from a Ministry type, the apparition seemed rather dark; though Ven had to admit it had a flare to it.

Or perhaps it was what he expected. The man, after all, was a Necromancer and was allowed by the Ministry to practice. Ventus was very curious as to how he had managed to pull that off. Still, that part would come later.

Ventus cleared his throat. "Now, where to begin," he said calmly. "Introductions I suppose. I am Ventus Shang. I've heard much about you, assuming you are Alberic Grimm." Ventus paced to his left slightly, tapping his chin as he considered how much about the man he should reveal he knew.

Suddenly he stopped pacing and turned to face the man. "Put simply, I know you can bring back peoples souls." Ventus stepped back towards the man.

"And I want you to teach me."

Presumptuousness was certainly a trait of youth. Alberic blinked at the young man. For a youth as melodramatic as he, he certainly had the power of understatement. It said something about someone.  Yes. It said that Alberic hadn't gone to bed yet. And he was curious.

But impressed? Frightened? Anxious? . . . Interested? No. Not really. The man began to pace as he spoke and the raven upon Alberic's shoulder swiveled his head, keeping with the movements.  Other than that, the black figure stood still.

"Ventus," Alberic repeated. "Do not assume. It narrows possibilities, which is, undoubtedly, something to be avoided in this profession."

He looked shrewdly at the young man as he paced, standing completely immobile. "Second: do not ask, do not desire. The first puts you in my power, the latter ties you to a goal. That tie--like emotions--are only likely to bind your soul to things. Things that can be used against you. Is that clear?"

Alberic cleared his throat. It felt dry. This was more than he usually spoke in a day. "Convince me. Logically." He folded his arms across his chest. "Try again."

Ventus frowned. The man was awfully arrogant. But maybe that was something Ventus could use to his advantage, he doubted Alberic would consider any other as an equal to him. He thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words. With a slight smile, and a tilt of his head, he spoke.

"I was not asking per se," he began "I was telling you something I wanted you to do for me. Think of it more like an order." Ventus clapped his hands together. "As for logic, go ask someone from Ravenclaw, I'm sure they'll be much better at it than I. But if I had to try..." Ventus spun on the spot and apparated. With the blink of an eye he was sitting onto of Lord Nelsons head. "I would say this," he called down.

"I can easily resurrect a body, I've done it enough times already. I could easily raise an entire army of the things if I truly wanted. What would be the obvious next step? The bloody things have no soul. They take orders, and are rather resilient, but without the soul I am forced to constantly be holding their hand," Ventus leapt from the top of the statue and apparated mid-air, this time reappearing next to the man he called from his home. Ventus placed and arm on his shoulder and leaned against him. "And let's face it," he said quietly. "If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it by now, or at least attempted it."

Ventus laughed again and pushed himself away from the Alberic, skipping a few steps away before he turned to face him. He held his arms out slightly. "I don't want to surpass you in your field. I simply want what was taken from me," Ventus bowed slightly, "So what do you say? Take me up as an apprentice? Or are you to afraid to have a real rival?"

Alberic laughed. Not cynical. Not dark. Genuine. The boy was a quick study. Alberic wasn't convinced the boy was genuine, but if he hadn't been a legilimens, he might have been. This was promise.

"Mister Shang. I don't kill things," he said with a stony voice that contrasted with the warmth in his eyes. "That is interfering with death. And I do not interfere. I prevent interference. And what you are describing sounds a lot like meddling. Consider what I am before you attack. Reason. Logic. These are not Ravenclaw games, these Are. It is governance."

He tilted his head, watching as the ravens alighted from their stoop atop Lord Nelson, to be replaced with what Alberic considered his next potential Pet. Perhaps better than. The man had a will to him. And a soul. And skill.

Yes. Yes, he would.

As the young man approached, Alberic looked down at the flagstones, considering; nodding. "You're right. You're not one for logic." Shang's argument had moved from intimidation to assurance, to taunting, to boasting, and back. Alberic schooled his expression. "I'm not in the business of holding hands any more than yourself. You seem capable. If what you say is true, I am satisfied as to your skill. Your versatility is to be commended, though for rhetorical purposes, I'd suggest you stick with just one method of persuasion at a time and carry it as far as it will take you--you will not be much of a manipulator without it. We shall work on that later, as well as the obvious Occlumency." Alberic clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his chin as he read the boy.

"Now. The Ministry requires a route for these things. Tomorrow. Bring a current cv--" his lips curled at this ironic phrase[1] "A coverletter, and two forms of identification."

Alberic shifted his shoulders, causing the raven to alight and flutter overhead. "It could not hurt to be prepared for a demonstration at the time of interview. We will provide what you need, though I can't say we'll provide an army; two simultaneous reanimations will suffice." It was more than Alberic could do. Alberic took a breath in preparation for Apparation before stating: "Ah. And you ought to know, you are the first apprentice for this position. It is at the minimum a two-year commitment. After the interview, if all is found agreeable to both parties, we Shake[2] on it."

1.	Because "cv" or "curricula vitae" means "course of life," this is doubtless a paradox for a necromancer, who keeps little record of life and seems, at times, determined to stop it as often as he seeks to attain it.
2.	the Unbreakable Vow

"Two years is almost nothing when one considers the grand scheme of things," Ventus said airily. "And of course I would expect there to be something done to ensure that I kept my promise." He smiled, slightly surprised that the man had taken him up. Though Ventus found it odd that Alberi claimed he needed more practice manipulating people. After all he had just successfully manipulated him, hadn't he?

Still, there was one snag. Tomorrow he was busy. Ventus faced the man. "However," he began slowly. He didn't want to lose this opportunity. "Over the course of the next few days I do in fact have prior engagements. I apologize for the inconvenience, but as you can no doubt understand, acquiring certain components for this work can be difficult when done illegally." He tapped his chin, mentally going over his schedule. "The earliest I can come in for the interview would be the afternoon of the twenty-fifth." He sighed and placed his hands together. "I can be there at one o'clock. On the dot."

"And I promise I will not let you down."