"How is the arm?" Ignan asked smoothly. He set down the glass of deep ruby-red wine on the short-legged table between the two green felt armchairs facing the fire. As he let his arm droop, his wand slid out of his shirt sleeve, refilling Johann's half empty glass just a little, before sliding his wand back unseen.
To Ignan's right, seated in the other comfortable, high-backed armchair, Johann drew back his own shirt sleeve sleeve and inspected the fingertip bruises on his wrist
[1].
"The freezing spell has helped, thank you." Johann explained, thankful for Ignan's subtle intervention at the Leaky Cauldron. Despite being thirty-three, Johann still lacked the tact and common sense to deal with his father
[2].
"I am only glad it wasn't more than a grip."
Johann slid his cotton sleeve back over his wrist and picked up his wine again, his long fingers turning the stem of the glass before he took a deep sip. Ignan was very good to invite him that weekend, however much Johann would have enjoyed to spend some time with Colin. Instead, he had accepted the invitation to visit Ignan at Hogwarts on the Saturday, and here he was, drinking wine, sat in an armchair in Ignan's chambers, a little rearranged since Johann's last visit with Gabrielle
[3] eight months previous.
"Its very much quieter in the castle without all the students." Johann mused gently, basking in the peace a moment. A very low fire of embers burnt in the grate by their feet, the thick walls of the castle were as good at keeping the cold out as they were the heat unfortunately, keeping the rooms cooler than one might intend. That and Ignan wanted the room to be just at the right temperature to send someone into the comfortable route to sleep, to make their cluttered thoughts easier to read.
"Very much so." Ignan agreed. "This year will be more noisy than the last with the extra inhabitants. Still, at least there will be even less chance of a dull moment." Ignan smirked. He quite enjoyed that aspect to Hogwarts, however much he complained - he was never bored. With Herschel at the reins at least there might be a little more consistency, though Snark's disappearance still baffled. Given the fact the governors were almost to unseat her, Ignan supposed, it might be for the best, not that he willed ill on the witch.
"Did you speak to Hannah about your father?"
Johann made a face as if he had eaten a particularly sour lemon. Ignan snorted and let his smirk pass unhidden.
"I wrote to her, but I've yet to receive a response."
[4] Johann explained, his fingers playing with the wine glass, which indicated his stress over this topic. His friendship with Hannah had its ups and downs, she wasn't the most cordial or warm friend one could achieve, but Johann adored her. If you wanted an honest, blunt answer, Hannah was the one. It was just a great shame she was also doomed to be the one Johann would stick his foot in his mouth before on a regular basis.
Based on that description alone, a bystander might presume that Johann was flustered by Hannah for reasons other than friendship, but instead, he was just incredibly useless at keeping friends. His skills in such areas were lost for increased reasoning, observation, intelligence and memory, which made for solitary companions.
"Oh dear." Ignan replied, with gravity. He had heard much of Hannah, and it was never going to end well even if Johann had sat his father down and categorically stated Hannah was of no romantic interest whatsoever to Johann (though from Ignan's perspective that owl had still not returned) because Wolfgang would hang onto that merest interest of a female friend and chip away at it for all the time he had available. Whereas the extended family had a bet on Johann's romantic outcomes, Wolfgang saw it as a complete failure in his only son.
"You once again have some apologies to make, though I can understand how difficult it is in this case. You could of course appeal to your mother to rein in Wolfgang...?"
Johann chuckled, and drank some more of his wine, resting it on his lap afterwards. The glass caught the evening sunlight which fell through the west-facing slim windows of Ignan's chambers.
"She may be milder, but she's probably the source of the information, Ignan." He shrugged to his older cousin, who without Johann realising, was once again filling the wine glass with magic, the bottle slowly depleating.
"Hmm, well, you will figure it out I'm sure." Ignan added without much to add to the conversation, his gaze also wandering to the mantlepiece where this year, a line of black and white photographs lined it in plain frames. Family including Gabrielle and Johann, and one of Ignan and Georg. His travelling friend was once more on the road, the charms Professor position now filled for the new year. The rooms were more homely than the last.
"All prepared for this year, Deputy Headmaster?" Johann asked, changing the subject and smiling boyishly beneath his head of black curls. Ignan shuffled his own shoulders proudly, and Johann raised his glass, mildly wondering how he could feel so warm and sleepy on drinking so little.
"I will be by the time it is September, for sure." Ignan agreed, noting Johann's eyelids were drooping and his conversation slowing. A little more wine, and things would be perfect.
"Couldn't be a head of house could I, not without studying here. Rather like the headmaster, they like their own alumni. I suppose its just, couldn't see Auberon being succeeded by someone from Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, it wouldn't be proper." Johann nodded and smiled.
"Merik must be proud, though?"
"He's ... perhaps a little too addled these years to remember from one moment to the next." Ignan's features drooped. His father would be proud, given he had led Durmstrang many years ago before bowing out. Despite their differences, son and father had been closer in the past decade.
"You said you'd confiscated... his... wand?" Johann asked, sleepily. He drank again from his wine glass, enjoying the taste.
"Indeed. Your father may be an arse to you, but he does have his uses. Do you like the wine, by the way, good vintage..."
"Mm." Johann blinked slowly.
From the other armchair, Ignan leaned forward, watching Johann's eyes close, and lifted the glass from his cousin's fingertips. Gently, Ignan reached his mind out, wand in hand, and sought after Johann's thoughts.
Johann was not acutely aware of what was going on, he assumed he was dreaming, and went along with things. He was warm, comfortable and felt safe enough. It wasn't often he slipped into sleep quite as easily as this. He supposed he should be alarmed, but his body protested. Instead, he allowed his mind to drift, and unwittingly, let Ignan drift with him.
The thoughts in Johann's mind swam in vomit-inducing circles of languages and conversations, faces and places, memories and smells. Ignan had suspected this before, which is why he had taken the precaution of getting Johann drunk. It slowed his thoughts down.
Round it swirled and like a bad sea it took a while for Ignan to get his bearings. His skills flooded back to him from his younger days, and his worse days. Days when he would take down men with curses, and take their thoughts and secrets with Azorma standing by
[5]. They wouldn't go easily, it took effort, but he had been well practised, stronger. He just had to use his will against theirs - Johann wasn't particularly fighting back, it would be easier.
Who are you thinking about? Ignan asked Johann's thoughts, going for something easy to begin with. It unfruitfully turned out to be a rather disturbing crowd of faces, including a fascination of Colin who prevailed in less-than-fully-dressed states. How on earth Johann could function with such a busy mind it was nobody's guess, but he did. Exasperated already, Ignan pressed a different question.
What have you been doing?Almost instantly he found himself drawn along to Johann's cluttered room at Colin's flat, filled with papers, viewed from Johann's perspective. He had never been there, but he recognised the hallmarks of Johann's belongings in the room. This was Johann's element, he could feel it in the way Johann's thoughts circled and dissipated in different directions according to what was examined in the room. He encouraged Johann to open boxes and look through.
It was difficult at first to get his mind to focus on the content - and all of it was foreign in script Ignan did not know.
Who, what? Johann's thoughts twisted and changed, and Ignan found himself looking at a rather grand set of rooms - a study, lavishly decorated, and there, seated at a writing desk was a man who Ignan recognised from the newspapers,
Vedir Prideaux.
Johann had
lied[6]. Ignan lost his grip on Johann's thoughts and came flying back to reality with a jolt and a heavy feeling in his bones. The summer evening now punctuated by soft snores from the adjacent armchair.
[Aug 8] Map of Your Head [snapshot]