Abuja, Nigeria
Summer 2006

Melanthe Grumman's travels since her graduation from Durmstrang had been far and wide, for both business and pleasure. Of late, her travels catered to the latter more than the former, as most of her pressing personal business had been tidied up. Melanthe could rest a little easier knowing that her father's death had been vindicated as thoroughly as she could manage. Though she reveled in her successes, Melanthe would not characterize her recent travels as a victory celebration. People like dear Professor Storm had taught her to remain vigilant. And she was -- interwoven with her attempts to relax and enoy herself a little in the aftermath.

This particular trip of hers was not all pleasure; Her Uncle Caspero had contacted her recently and had requested that she stop in Burkina Faso to secure some "supplies". When Caspero asked her for help in this regard, it almost always involved, Melanthe had the gift of parselmouth and he did not. But it was also her uncles way of subtly trying to get her to take more of a hands on role in the family business. Until now, she had been content to take a mimimalist role in the business or work closely with the "goods" before passing them off to him for whatever happened next. Melanthe supposed at some point she would want to be more directly involved. But why rush when her uncle was a fine caretaker for now?

But as far as the trip to Burkina Faso, Melanthe did not mind as any trip to Africa always included a stop in Nigeria, either for just a few hours or for an entire day. The capitol city, Abuja, was quite lovely and every bit capable of appealing to Melanthe's enjoyment of oppulence and asthetics.  But even Melanthe could appreciate some of the simpler touches to the international city, including its marketplace, where she could get clothing, jewelry and other rare goods at at bargain price.

Usually when Melanthe visited the wizarding vendors at the Wuse Market, it was earlier in the day. But she had arrived later to the city than she anticipated and after settling into her hotel and freshening up, Melanthe headed out on foot about an hour before dusk.

Thankfully the hour provided a slight reprieve from the warmer African weather, but it also meant that many of the prized goods might be gone. Of course, if one had money to spend, there would always be something worth spending it on and if it was highly coveted by Melanthe, she had no remorse in flashing a sizeable offer to prevent other potential buyers from being interested.

Unfortunately, Melanthe's wealth also made her a target of theives who thought that just because she was a stranger in their land (and of the frail, feminine persuasion) it meant she could easily be taken advantage of.

The theif who grabbed Melanthe's money pouch clearly did not anticipate her quick retaliation. Immediately she brandished her wand and turned to pursue. With a flick of her wand, Melanthe boomed, "Devinctus!"

The Nigerian wizard crumpled to the ground and if he did own a wand, it was nowhere to be found now. And her coveted money pouch scattered in the dirt. Others tempted by riches might have pounced on the fallen coins but they saw Melanthe's expression and seemed to realize that she was no one to be triffled with.

Her chocolate orbs were blazing as she approached and something inside of her longed to inflict on him more pain for his crimes. But instead, Melanthe lowered her wand and quietly hissed, "Such a pity you didn't ask..."

From East Cameroon through the wild growth that was the East Congo Basin, five groups of fifty wizards wore shirts tucked into cargo pants that tucked into heavy boots with long tunics draped and fastened over them, with tactical mesh and stringy scarves wrapped around their heads that were wrapped in black goggles, as they carried magical staffs and swords like extra limbs crawling alongside them and stalked any minute traces leftover in the earth of the most dangerous cat in Africa. The Nundu.

For twelve days these men tracked and hunted the hulking creature away from the most populated part of Africa to its native habitat. It took days just to find the cat. It took more than a week to maneuver it through the Congo Basin. And it would have taken only a second to lose everything to the creature.

However, the faceless hunters found a happy and successful end to their trials: The Nundu was relocated, minimal lives were lost, the creature was still a secret, and fifty wizards left Nigeria and fifty would return. Of course, the story was missing a crucial puzzle; how and why was the beast in Cameroon? It was a question that many of the hunters believed the answer was a complicated problem of a black market trade in dangerous creatures. It was nothing they could solve.

Instead hey chased the idea from their minds and returned to Abuja, Nigeria to alert the public to their success with a loud and overly boisterous party. As was the custom, they would buy their food from the country they chased the creature to, as a means of thanks; and then throw a party in any one of the countries that the Nundu threatened, but since it was so close to many cities they all settled on Abuja. Of course, there was always one hunter who was given the heavy honor of providing the booze.

Azize Mulogo had unwittingly had his money bag offered up to buy the pombe[1] and have it shipped to the Abuja marketplace, where he then had to move it to the party. He had slept since the Nundu chase, but became a routine that he and the other wizards of the Nundu task force wore their gear for nearly a week after a chase. So the large Tanzanian man had his tunic hanging around his waist, his hat brim buttoned up, his goggles sitting on the front of his hat, and his ratty scarf loosely piled around his neck and shoulders. It was the way Mulogo always wore his clothes after a successful hunt, and after years of exhibiting the habit, the local people had become so accustomed to it that it was no surprise how many sighs and smiles of relief passed him by on the streets of Nigeria that day. Although, it did not provide the people any immunity to the haunting man-made fears and cruelty of humanity.

Crime was common. Theft was common. But women in pink dresses lashing out at criminals in Africa? Not so common. As a matter of fact, as Azize got closer to the scene he realized the woman seemed to be a foreigner. Even less common. But her justification was easy to see; Gold coins littered the ground where she stood, a ragged man lay crumpled at her feet, and she stood with her wand out as if she just was angered and jumped out of the cover of a nearby modeling magazine.

"Samahani[2], madam," Azize dropped his staff to the ground with a heavy thud of magic as the coins rolled back into the witch's purse, "I hope that means you are finished?" Azize, despite how casual he looked and how pretty the girl was kept his demeanor as formal as possible. She did not seem like a happy woman, and he did not have any curiosity as to what she did when further provoked.

"Wanawake wazuri[3], alone and wrapped in a nice dress are easy prey near th' night," His deep voice was soft, but heavy and urging, as it wove around his accent. He picked up his staff and leaned it against his shoulder while keeping eye contact wit the shorter woman, "You should be careful here and avoid using such defenses, in case someone more corrup--" his eyes momentarily flicked away as he thought of a better English word, "...vindictivethan I wanted to arrest you." It was rather serious to use such magical force in public, even for a beautiful woman, and even at night. But with so many people around and not enough wealth, opportunistic behavior seemed like the startling and overwhelming norm, especially in the evening.

1.	"native beer [to East Africa]"
2.	Excuse me
3.	beautiful women

When the thief was subdued and she was certain he posed no greater thread, Melanthe's shoulders dropped with relief.  The truth of it wasn't that Melanthe felt she needed the money. She would always have plenty to spare. It was her desire to not be taken advantage of that caused her to lash out.

Hearing a man's voice that did not belong to the thieves, Melanthe looked up and immediately flushed, realizing that her reaction may have been in haste. As such, Melanthe tucked her wand away and straightened. "Quite finished," she assured him and any other onlookers who were curious.

At the strange man's next comment that insinuated (at least to Melanthe) that her being alone and female was part of the problem, the dark witch's inched a little higher. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself," she coolly responded. She knelt to retrieve the money pouch and continued, "Perhaps if the women here were encouraged to defend themselves as I did, this would not happen as often as you seem to suggest." It was on her tongue to argue further and challenge the man as to whether he would have her arrested. But she decided not to.

She pursed her lips and as she stood once more, she drank in his features. He was a towering yet very pleasing specimen of masculinity, and not just from the African countries. This man was simply beautiful on any level. And intriguing to Melanthe.

Deciding to take a different approach, Melanthe ventured, "Thank you for being concerned for my well being."

Azize's eyebrows bent and rose curiously at the witch's assessment of how women should defend themselves more in Abuja, and after a moment of contemplation he nodded and hummed in agreement. He couldn't think of any reason why a woman shouldn't be treated with the utmost respect, even if they were quick to zap their wands in anger. Of course Azize couldn't arrest her, but she probably wasn't aware of what it was he had been doing the week before, only that he was some sort of authority figure. Of course, he was still completely capable of getting her in trouble.

He hummed again as she seemed to change her tone, and risked another comment, "Then another suggestion?" his thick voice maneuvered around his accent as he glanced at the man on the ground, "Maybe try and be more clever than violent next time, if that is your wish?" Then he bent his head down to whisper by her face, guarding his lips with the twisted top of his staff. His expression was completely serious, but his heavy voice was quiet and jovial, "Perhaps it would also be clever if you did not stand around and wait to see who may try and take advantage of you next."

Then he rose to his full height again and adjusted his hat with a humble flash of a smile, "But I do not want to go to any interrogations or cells today, so you're safe from me."

The African then turned away from the woman and started to casually step away from the scene. The man may be dragged off to the hospital as easily as he may be dumped by the roadside, and the former could easily result in his getting arrested and then lead to a worse fate than being left at the roadside. But the African wizard didn't care either way, he thought it was better to just leave the fool on the ground and let the woman have her freedom. No one would want to pay any mind to a thief, but foreigners were another story.

With the added distance between him and the brunette, Azize glanced back at the woman with a pleasant curiosity as he felt less shame about admiring her body for a moment, feeling that the added distance between them made it much easier to take in her whole form, rather than oggle at her up close.

Melanthe own brows arched upwards as she continued to watch the man before her, curiously wondering how he would respond to her apologetic nature. It wasn't her intent to be fake about it but she was sure that it might be easy to question her sincerity when just moments ago she had been so defensive and aloof.

But she was in a foreign land and even she recognized it was in her best interest to make nice. She nodded slowly when he wished to make another suggestion. Her eyes locked onto his lips and watched with interest, not really listening to his words but nodding slowly anyway.

When she spoke next, her own voice danced with a bit of playfulness and her eyes sparkled with a bit of daring. "So instead of standing around here waiting for who may take advantage of me next, what exactly do you suggest I do? Where else do you think I should go?" She paused before suggesting, "Since interrogation cells are not of interest to you, perhaps you would like to show me more interesting sites here in the city?"

Azize stopped his slow walk and twisted around to smile at the witch, "Ah, perhaps I can show you a few sites while I run my errands," his voice playfully lingered around his accent.

"But I am off to attend a party soon afterwards, so sightseeing would be cut short," he warned with a hopeless shrug and a click of his tongue. "Of course, you can continue to follow me there, if you wish and I can remain your guide," his smile returned as he dropped his shoulders and offered an assuming hand for the other witch to take. He was sure she would much prefer to attend a party than continuing to wander around on her own all day, but he would not be so aggressive with her about such things--at least not for a first meeting. Especially a foreigner.

But just to make things easier he asked, "And I don't believe I have your name?" as he tilted his head as he arched he curiously arched his brows.

Melanthe carefully considered his offer. She had been looking forward to shopping at the market but the altercation with the thief had stolen her enthusiasm for the venture. Taking in the sites of the African city by someone who might know where best to go sounded like a more enjoyable use of her time.

"I would love to have you show me around," she finally told him. "And I  have nothing else to do this evening so if you are allowed guests at your party, then I wouldn't mind tagging along."

She looked down at his offered hand and then back to his face, searching it for signs of whether she should trust him fully. Melanthe was, afterall, a very proud and independent woman and given her business dealings, she made a point to keep her distance from strangers until she knew them better.

But this man's aura was quite soothing and she had very few reservations about accepting his hand. With a quick nod of her head, she stepped closer to him so they could begin walking and then introduced herself. "My name is Melanthe Grumman. I am here on a business trip. And you are?"

"Azize Mulogo," the tall African answered in his deep lilting accent. She noticed that she was rather vague in her answer about her reasons for visiting, but Azize felt so need to be so withdrawn with himself.

"Pleasure," he bowed his head before taking her company by his side, holstering his staff on his back, "I've recently returned from a hunt a week ago with a hunting party," He began walking with the beautiful witch as the strolled through the wizarding marketplace, "We run off Nundus." His proud voice was accompanied with a light huff of a laugh--fully knowing that it was a foolish thing to be proud of.

"There is not many of us right now," he continued as he stopped in front of a brewer's shop, and leaned down to slyly reveal, "but there is enough of us to merrily drink and dance the night away!" He put a hand on his hat as he stood up straight again.

"Now where are you from?" He gestured an open hand to the brewery, "Surely you've taken a chance to find your favorite drink here in Abuja?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mulogo," she returned in her own Russian accented drawl. As they walked and he explained what he had been doing, her brow furrowed darkly. "Hunting Nundus?" Though serpents were her specialty, Melanthe was no slouch when it came to knowing a thing or two about other magical beasts. And what she knew about the one the African mentioned was that it was quite formidable. Thus, if he was a man who hunted such creatures, he must be formidable himself.

Once again, she gazed upon him with a measure of awe, only this was different from the initial one that marveled at his masculinity. No, this new information caused the dark witch to want to know even more about this intriguing wizard.

Attempting to compose herself a bit, she said, "I am very glad that you were successful then. So that you can drink and dance so merrily," she added. "It would be a shame to lose someone such as yourself with how dangerous they are." She ventured a smile. "And pity for that to have happened as it would also have kept us from meeting."

"Ah," Azize let his voice drag on as he smiled towards  the other witch, "It seems you have put some value on my well being, then?" He flexed and rolled his shoulders back as he tilted his head to the side, "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

"Both perhaps?" He gave a short and heavy chuckle before he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows in helplessness at the curvacious witch, "But it is unfair," he began matter-of-factly, "There is already value in you but I feel as though I am missing part of your secret," he unwrapped his arms and splayed his hands out to his sides, "So tell, are you in the business of dangerous creatures? Or are you perhaps just a dangerous creature on business?" His lips pulled into a modest smirk. For some reason Azize believed both could be true, but one could never be sure with women.