An Unpleasant Awakening

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Roibin often found himself victim to several various weird dreams. Roi didn't think of them as weird, of course. Then again Roibin wouldn't have thought weird a herd of sheep playing violas while a pack of Border collies danced the flamenco. Thinking things were weird, in Roibin's honest opinion, was just not something a responsible wizard should let himself do. That being said, were any Legilimens to actually invade Roibin's mind while the young wizard slept, then the invader would likely be spending an evening in St. Mungo's Mental Ward muttering something about trout and cable-knit sweaters.

The blonde wizard was currently deep within a dream that had something to do with drug-using caterpillars and shrinking potions. He was quite sure it seemed familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he'd experienced all this before. He was also quite sure that this was a dream and he hadn't slipped into another dimension during his REM sleep again. After all, even other dimensions didn't make mary-janes in his shoe size. Unless there were shoe gnomes involved, obviously. When it came to shoe gnomes, all bets were off.

As he grasped the wiggling legs of the flamingo (which he feared was somehow Freudian, though he never actually understood much of what the man was talking asides from the obvious cigar metaphors), he felt the odd talking cat he'd seen earlier nesting deeper into his tangled hair. A moment later, as the hedgehog soared gracefully through the Quidditch goal, Roibin's feet took a decided chill, and he subconsciously curled into himself.

Outside of dream world, Roibin was quite a sight to behold. All that was visible from under the white comforter were his feet at the end (sprawled on opposite ends of the bed) and his mop of blonde hair sticking out at the head of the bed. At the top of the bed, a small bat-eared creature nibbled and nested into his owner's hair; while at the feet of his bed, a Kneazle looked bemusedly at her human companion's twitchy feet, debating whether or not a surprise attack was necessary. Roibin, as it usually was when he slept, was dead to the world. He didn't notice the bustling morning noises of those milling about in Diagon Alley or the skulking noises of Knockturn Alley (Yes, skuling did make a noise, as Roibin was annoyed to find during the first few nights of living there. To be fair he hardly noticed it after awhile, as skulking sounded very much like Floofles the Kneazle's nighttime constitutional).

He didn't even notice the front door to his flat open. Nor did he notice the door to his bedroom open. He even didn't acknowledge the low growls and hisses that Floofles was making at the end of the bed. Whether or not he would regret his inattention has yet to be decided, but he was quite sure he'd just had one of the most unpleasant awakenings he'd had in a long time.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

There are a lot of things someone could do to irritate Rafe Cardozo. He had little patience for lazy people, insults to Hufflepuff house, overly loud pets, and people who walk too slowly in hallways. This was not a man that it was hard to annoy. However, there was a man who actually managed to send Rafe into paroxysms of rage as he had not known since the Ministry of Magic came to collect him from his family’s home.

The man who managed to inspire this truly vein throbbing rage was named Roibin Vespers. Rafe had never met this man before, had no earthly idea who he was, but he did know that he wanted to strangle him so hard his eyes popped right out of his head.

In a rare show, Rafe had a real reason to be angry for once. After all, few people wanted to be roused at five in the morning by having a very large Venomous Tentacula dropped upon them.

Rafe never really liked plants. He could see their use in potions, to be certain, so he had a lot of plant-based ingredients stored around, but he had never really bothered with keeping live ones. He realized that he would really rather just buy the ingredients rather than bothering to grow his own. After getting up close and personal with a very live plant that morning, Rafe felt fairly certain that he had made the right decision.

The sun had not quite finished rising when a truly put-upon owl came barreling through Rafe’s window, entwined by a leafy green plant’s many long, spiky vines. Feathers were coming out everywhere, and the plant was snapping at the owl’s face. Understandably, this impaired the bird’s vision, leading to it dive-bombing onto the sleeping wizard.

Tightly clutching in his hand a card with a frolicking kitten leaping about on the front while the inside were the words Welcome to the Hogwarts staff! I’m sure we’ll be great friends! –Roibin Vespers, Rafe blew through the lock on the door, easily getting into the other man’s room. He stomped through the place until he came upon a sleeping wizard in a bed with some very alarmed animals. Ignoring the hissing of the creatures, Rafe extended his wand and shouted, “You! You’re Roibin Vespers?”

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Upon hearing an unfamiliar voice yelling in his bedroom, Roibin shot up from under his comforter, displacing the small fox from his head and causing an already irate Floofles to become even more livid. While on occasion several years ago, Morfran Vespers had taken it upon himself to randomly arrive at Roibin's flat to make sure the younger wizard wasn't dabbling in anything dangerous, illegal, or just downright silly, the oldest Vespers son had not arrived unannounced in quite some time. As Roibin hadn't been on a date in a good deal of time, and he didn't believe any of his three sisters were predisposed to change their sex on a whim, Roibin was forced to conclude that this intruder was a stranger. Shortly after realizing this, Roibin also realized that he was wearing no shirt, and acted appropriately to the situation: by squeaking in a highly effeminate manner and pulling his cover around his shoulders.

As the man pointed his wand at Roibin, the blonde ran through several plans in his head as to how to remove this obvious mad man from his home. Plan A would have been the most sensible, of course, but the containers of gelatin were two rooms away and Roibin was quite sure this fellow could out-sprint him in a pinch. Plan B would have to do then. Roibin mad a mad flailing dive towards his nightstand, where he usually kept his wand. Unfortunately, it seemed said wand was not on the nightstand, and Roibin was left lying sideways looking both disappointed and suspicious. No matter. He had more pressing matters at hand than distant jello and a wand that he was quite sure that had been made off with by shoe gnomes as some form of repayment for the size 12 mary-janes.

Glancing over from his contorted position, Roibin finally noticed the card clutched in his unknown assailant's hand. Suddenly, it clicked into place who this actually was. In a feat that most anatomists would find not impossible but still quite disturbing, Roibin twisted himself around and in one step was somehow standing in front of Professor Cardozo with his far too cheery Stepford smile firmly in place.

"So you're Professor Cardozo! I see you got the plant. I was never extremely good at potions, but I remembered that one being great for erm...some potions so I figured it would be of use to you!" he said in an all-too-chipper tone for someone who was just awoken at wand point by an angry man who appeared as if he could snap a scrawny man like Roi in half with only the power of his mind.

Floofles wasn't nearly as impressed with Rafe as Roibin seemed to be, though. She stood firmly behind Roibin's legs hissing and glaring at the taller man with distrust and anger, both for threatening her companion and daring to set in motion a chain of events which led to her being dislodged from the bed. She was in a sunny spot dammit, and removing her from there was tantamount to treason in her books. Not that Kneazles had books. That Wizards knew of, at least. Behind Floofles, Pookie hid in a cowardly fashion, shaking much like a chihuahua (though if one were to ever compare Pookie to a chihuahua, one would quickly find the difference in the form of very sharp teeth and a very strong grip). Roibin couldn't understand their animosity. Despite his entrance, he was quite sure that Professor Cardozo couldn't be nearly as aggressive as they were making him out to be.

After a small stretch of awkward silence, Roibin assumed his most diplomatic stance and in his most British tone (which was extremely ridiculous sounding considering his pronounced German accent), he made an offer to his colleague.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked. While Roibin himself cared for neither tea nor coffee, he found it very convenient to keep it in the flat at times like these. Caffeinated beverages, he found, were the cure for many ills, so many in fact he was curious as to why the Ministry didn't require it to be present at every public premises. Roibin gestured out his bedroom door into the cramped sitting area. "I'll put some on if you want. Just need a shirt. Tried to brew something once without it. It erm...well, Pookie is quiet and sneaks up on people. I'm sure you understand," he nodded solemnly. Before Rafe could get another word out, Roibin unceremoniously closed the door in his face and set about donning some actual clothes, leaving Rafe alone in the sitting room with only a very suspicious looking Floofles for company.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

It must have been the girlish scream. That must have been what took Rafe off-guard. After all, who expects a high-pitched screech and modest cover-pulling when confronting someone who just that morning had made some kind of attempt on your life? Rafe had expected maybe a duel, or at least an escape attempt, but not high-pitched cries and pulling the covers up, not from an attempted murderer.

After all, what else could that whole mess have been? Who on earth would send someone a writhing, venomous plant unless they were trying to kill that person? And that was without even taking into consideration the owl. When that thing landed on Rafe, all hell broke loose. It immediately—violently—shook him from slumber as poisonous barbs and sharp claws dug into his flesh, scratching up his skin as the pair slammed into his chest like a jackhammer.

Venomous Tentaculas were, as one could infer from the name, not very nice plants. Besides very mobile and very touchy-feely vines covered in poisonous barbs, they also had a large mouth with a venomous bite that could prove fatal if not quickly and properly treated. For a bonus there was the owl it was entwined with, who was understandably unhappy about the predicament. The plant had latched itself to the poor creature, who was trying to fight it off and fly at the same time. When it landed on Rafe, its struggles with the plant meant it scratched and pecked and beat at him, as well, something that made the whole scenario immeasurably worse.

There was no way that this man could not have realized that. No one could be that desperately lacking in sense. However, as the man scrambled to his feet, he acted as though nothing was the matter. Rafe blinked as Vespers babbled a greeting, saying something about sending him the Tentacula ‘for some potions’ as the Kneazle at his feet, hissing. Rafe narrowed his eyes dangerously as the man paused, too absorbed in rage at the man’s gall to pretend that the Tentacula had been an innocent gesture. No one—no one—could be that oblivious.

Before he could come up with some sort of response calling him out (the only words that Rafe had quite managed to string together were ‘hate you,’ ‘kill,’ ‘floppy-wanded,’ ‘pus-filled boils,’ and ‘asphyxiate’), Vespers ushered him out of the room with the offer of tea, leaving a very puzzled Rafe and a very irritated Kneazle standing outside the door. Rafe spent a long moment just blinking at the door, unable to process what had just happened.

The gall he had! Honestly, trying to pass the whole thing off as if he had no idea what he’d done. Rafe had the scratches down most of his torso and arms and even a couple on his neck and face to prove it. After he’d managed to disentangle himself and the owl from the Tentacula, he’d had to suck on a bezoar and forcibly restrain the panicking owl to treat its wounds with an antidote so that it wouldn’t die, which involved even more violent pecks and scratches until he felt certain he had gotten all of the major bites and stings on the bird. And after that, the bird wouldn’t leave until he not only paid it for shipping the item, but danger pay for what it went through in delivering the item. A hefty pay.

Beginning to pace, Rafe tried to think over the best way to enact revenge upon Vespers for what he’d done. Murder came to mind, though he wasn’t certain he wanted to risk Azkaban for it. Maybe just a ‘present’ in return, one that would involve extra limbs coming out of awkward places till Vespers would look like a Picasso. Rafe rather fancied that possibility, and paused a moment to enjoy that mental image.

There was the question of what motivated the attack in the first place. Seeing as he couldn’t remember ever meeting the man, he doubted that it could have been anything he had done. Indeed, he didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve this sort of thing, though then again he didn’t think he’d deserved to be fired, but that happened too. He suspected, however, that it had something to do with his hiring. Looking down at the card, which specifically made some taunting reference to him joining the Hogwarts staff, it was the only thing that made sense to him. But what? Was Vespers perhaps vying for his position, or feel his own was jeopardized in some way? Rafe didn’t even know what class Vespers taught, or if he even taught at all. Perhaps he’d recently been fired or turned down, and decided to take it out on Rafe.

It occurred to Rafe as he pondered this, that making himself decent for making tea was quite probably just an excuse so that Vespers could disappear to safety. Rafe would hear the crack of Apparition and he didn’t think he’d noticed a fireplace with which to use floo powder, but there was always the old fashioned Muggle way of crawling out the window and running. Well, Rafe wasn’t going to stand for that. Lips pulling back in a snarl, Rafe marched back to the door and brandished his wand, ready to blow through the door.

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

As Roibin closed the door behind him, he turned with a flourish and loped towards his closet. The blonde didn't have many traditional wizarding clothes, but he didn't actually seem to mind the odd looks he got for wearing a mix of muggle and wizarding clothes. Reaching into the wardrobe, he grabbed a pair of muggle skinny jeans and a white robe he'd been given by some wizards in India after he'd secured a Navagunjara away from a frightened village. Pookie had settled himself back on the bed with Roi's signet ring in his mouth, waiting for him master to be completely dressed so that he'd put the ring on. As Roibin finished lacing up his boots and taking the ring from Pookie, he heard some noises on the outside of his door. Wondering if his unexpected guest was getting restless without his tea, Roibin quickly opened the door only to have Rafe's wand pointed in his face again (he ignored the snickering voice in the back of his mind; he wasn't twelve after all).

Roibin blinked in confusion and delicately moved the wand out of the way with his fingertip. He shook his finger in an admonishing fashion at Rafe. "Now we can't have any of that at Hogwarts, you know. You'll set a terrible example for the children." He breezed past Rafe without a second look, gingerly stepping past the books, cages, and the up-turned bicycle in the middle of his cramped sitting room. Floofles followed him protectively, occasionally turning back to glare at Rafe. The blonde professor was oblivious as usual, as he finally arrived in what he very generously called a kitchen. As he bustled about the cabinets retrieving kettles, tea leaves, and various things which were highly alcoholic that Roi was quite convinced were required in tea by unwritten law, he gestured behind himself for Rafe to take a seat.

"How do you take your tea?" he asked, though he silently knew it would taste hardly anything like he wanted it to. There was a reason Roibin bought mostly pre-packaged foods after all. Hopefully, if he added enough alcohol, his future co-worker wouldn't notice his tea-making deficiencies.

"It's great that the Headmistress was able to find a new Potions instructor at such short notice!" he chimed. "She's good at stuff like that though. She managed to hire me on for the Care of Magical Creature job only a month before the term began last year," snickered the professor. "Luckily, I still remembered a lot of the books I read for it during school, or we'd have been in quite a shape!"

As Roibin observed the strangely aggressive man from the corner of his eye, he noticed some of the scratches on him. He silently wondered if the man had gone a few rounds with the Whomping Willow. Not that he'd blame him. That tree was notoriously tetchy after all.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

Rafe was flustered when just as he’d been about to blast open the door with Reducto it was simply opened, depriving him of the chance to explode a hole through it and drag that blond earwig out to face up to what he did. Instead the door simply swung open, revealing Vespers in new clothing, just as he had claimed he was going to change into. This surprised Rafe immensely, enough so that he put up no fight when Vespers gently nudged his wand out of the way and eased past him.

“Yeah,” he said darkly, turning to glare at the other man, “trying to murder people isn’t exactly what I’d call being a good role model, is it?” His voice dripped with spite as he watched Vespers pointedly, though the blond seemed absorbed in bustling about the tiny little kitchen area. Rafe waited testily for Roibin to acknowledge his sarcastic reference to the ‘welcome gift’ he’d sent him, but apparently the younger man preferred to keep up this ridiculous game.

Well, fine. Rafe dealt with goblins for most of his adult life. If this nutter thought that he could wear down what militant goblin rebels (or, frankly, your everyday goblins) could not, he could be Rafe’s guest. He’d play out this little charade until he figured out what Vespers was playing at, Rafe decided, setting himself down in a chair as he continued to watch Vespers warily. He watched the other man’s hands with utmost care, watching for any signs of him slipping something into the tea. Just in case, Rafe felt in one of his pockets for a vial of potion just in case he needed to counteract poison.

At Vespers’ question about how he liked his tea, Rafe frowned. He was more of a coffee drinker, so he wasn’t really certain how many ways tea could be prepared. “Uh, plain, I suppose,” he muttered, hoping that a basic taste would make it easier to suss out the flavor of anything that ought not be in there.

“Indeed,” Rafe said stiltedly, unused to making small talk and on edge over his certainty that Vespers was going to poison him. Why shouldn’t he, seeing as he’d already tried to kill him once that day? Really, the man couldn’t be that clever if he kept trying to poison a Potionsmaster, but Rafe wasn’t really going to complain about clumsy assassination attempts. “It came at a convenient time for both of us, as I had just stopped working at Goblin Liaison and needed a new direction. So, Care of Magical Creatures, you say. How has that been working out for you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Roibin secretly relaxed at Rafe declared he wanted his tea plain. Plain he could do...well for the most part. He grabbed one of the random tea bags from his designated tea bag jar, set the kettle on the magical stove where it almost immediately began boiling. As the water boiled, Roi reached down into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a bottle of blood wine and a bag of cat food. The blood wine had been a gift from some vampires who were grateful for his help in removing an infestation of doxies from their daytime nesting place. The doxies had been chewing through the thick curtains during the day which had caused some...less than fortunate effects on some of the younger vamps. Roibin didn't have a taste for his gift, but Floofles quite adored it when Roibin poured some over her food. And after the wake-up the poor girl had this morning? Well clearly she deserved quite a bit of it.

After properly setting Floofles' dish on the floor (where she began eating as if Roibin had starved her as opposed to feeding her at 11 last night), Roibin pulled the tea off the boiler and poured some into two cups for him and Rafe. As he turned, Roibin also grabbed a bottle with some Italian words and a large lemon on the the label. Just because Rafe wanted his plain didn't mean Roibin had to drink it straight up and nasty-tasting.

Sitting down across from the older man, he smiled beatifically. "Oh, I only started teaching last term. It's been a great experience! Much better than I remember it as a student." He poured some of the heavy lemon-flavored liquor into his tea cup and sipped. "It's much more calming than my last job as a researcher. Not that, researching wasn't rewarding," he added with a grin. He quickly glanced around and finally settled his eyes under the table. Reaching down, he plucked a book out from one of the uneven legs, causing the table to wobble a great deal to the left. The book had a rather fearsome looking, giant feline on the cover under which the text read "The True Beast King of Africa: Up-close Experiences with Nundus by Roibin Vespers".

"That," Roibin stated without pretense, "is probably the biggest reason why I needed a break. Following around Nundus is much more relaxing than having to write a book" he pouted. He curiously glanced up at his new co-worker. "So what about you? Goblin Liason? That must have been..erm..interesting! I haven't had much experience around them since the German banks employ mostly Forest Trolls."

Roibin reached across the table and grabbed a small sugar bowl and proceeded to dump a not insignificant amount of sugar into his drink. At this point it was now more hot, alcoholic lemonade than anything else, but if it was tea that brought people together than he figured he might as well suffer the disgusting tea aftertaste.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

To say that Rafe was momentarily derailed would be an understatement. He jerked his hands up to keep his tea from spilling as Vespers yanked a book out of under one of the table legs. Hot tea sloshed at the edges and managed to burn one of his hands, and he swore under his breath and brought the hand up to suck the burnt spot. As he did so, he blinked at the tome Vespers presented, which had his name emblazoned at the bottom, presumably marking him as the author.

“Nundus?” he asked around his hand, staring for a minute at the cover, not quite able to comprehend. This nutter actually followed around nundus, the African beast in the shape of an enormous leopard, whose single deadly exhale could annihilate an entire village of people? Who was ten times as difficult to stop as a raging dragon?

“You wrote a book about nundus?” Rafe pressed incredulously, jabbing a finger at the cover of the book. “And you actually followed them around, you didn’t just write second-hand about the exploits of somebody else? Nundus, the things that make nesting Hungarian Horntails look like…” Rafe paused and glanced around the room before setting his gaze on the more timid of the two creatures Vespers seemed to keep as pets, the one who had huge ears and a tendency to tremble. “…Like that thing?” he finished, pointing at it.

Wait, he got it. He realized why Vespers was showing him the book, whether or not it was really based on his own first-hand research. He wanted to frighten Rafe, to scare him off by showing that he was tough enough to deal with nundus. It was like a bearded lizard puffing itself up in hopes that predators would think it more dangerous than it was, and leave it alone rather than going ahead and just eating it. Well, Rafe wasn’t going to be put off that easily.

“Mmm, lots of wizards look down upon goblins, underestimate just how much cleverer they are than us,” Rafe said casually, examining his nails. “Not to mention just how strong the sentiment of rebellion is among them. More than once I had to quell a group of enraged goblins ready to put us through yet another Rebellion. Before that, I worked for Gringotts as a curse-breaker,” he added, very aware of how much more exciting and dangerous that job had been. It was part of why he had enjoyed it so very much.

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Roibin sipped his tea, not seeming to notice how momentarily off kilter his companion was. He forged on in his explanation, without missing a beat.

"Oh, there are a few second-hand accounts, of course! And some eye-witnesses. Those kinds of tellings are invaluable. But mostly I just followed around a mated pair of Nundus. You know that no one had actually seen a live Nundu birth before I did this? I was so surprised! I mean, they are dangerous, yes, but I assumed some researchers would be more dedicated." He appeared to pout for a minute, before smiling. "But you'd never guess how adorable baby Nundus are! They're about the size of a normal full-grown leopard and they haven't gained the noxious breath of their parents yet, so they're extremely easy to get close to in comparison. One just needs to watch the claws and teeth, and its quite easy!" He sipped his tea again, as Rafe pointed over to Pookie, who was still shaking nervously in the corner. "I actually found Pookie when I was researching Nundus. Poor baby was all alone in the desert. I just couldn't leave him there, so I brought him on the rest of my trip and then brought him home with me!"

Roibin listened intently as Rafe described his work with the goblins. Asides from one or two awkward encounters at Gringotts, he'd never met a goblin. When Rafe seemed to be finished, Roi nodded.

"It's horrible the way a lot of wizards treat beings who are different than them. I'm not very familiar with goblins, I'll admit, but the way a lot of the centaurs I've spoken to get treated by the ministry is pretty appalling. They've never tried to rebel though. You must have a pretty good rapport with the goblins then," he praised with a smile. Roibin took the book that was left on the table and slid it onto the counter behind him. "My elder brother wanted me to be a cursebreaker," he stated. He snickered a bit. "I was never really good enough in any of my classes to do that though. The teachers seemed to think I didn't apply myself or something.... But I'm much happier doing this! But curse-breaking does sound interesting! I bet you've traveled even more than me!"

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

Rafe raised an eyebrow as he cast a skeptical gaze at the timid-looking little creature that Vespers referred to, talking about how he rescued it in Africa. Looking at the thing, Rafe could see how it could use rescuing, even by the seemingly-harmless looking Care of Magical Creatures professor. Pookie? Rafe asked himself silently, wrinkling his nose at the saccharine name, but decided not to voice his feelings on the name. He had more important concerns than diabetes-inducing pet names.

Trying not to be taken in by the compliment (clearly yet another tactic to keep him from wanting revenge! Nice try, Vespers!), Rafe lifted his cup to his face a moment, as if to drink. Instead he sniffed it, trying to detect anything added. Nothing caught his attention outside of the normal tea smell, so he set the cup back down carefully, hoping that the other man would assume he had drunk from it. He’d put that off until he was certain that Vespers was looking away long enough for him to add something to counteract any poison.

Someone as apparently well-traveled as Vespers, however, might have access to poisons stronger than Rafe was used to, though, he realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Would his antidotes be enough to counteract whatever Vespers had? What if he collected runespoor venom or something? Rafe had a very extensive defense against deadly poisons, but he couldn’t protect against everything.

Tracing the ring of the cup as his mind raced wildly, Rafe said to Vespers, “Oh, I don’t know about that. My work was mostly concentrated in Egypt, though I did have somewhat frequent trips to South America and China. Distant, certainly, but mostly just those three. I’ve never even visited France.” Stalling for time, he continued, “I did love curse-breaking. Something particularly thrilling about that moment where you break through that final bit of curse-work and take your first step into the dark recesses of a tomb. Feeling of victory. I’m certain, though, that you must feel a similar rush in your work. New discoveries, sussing out facts that no one else has put together before you did. I’d wager teaching is much less thrilling than a baby nundu.”

[[Sorry, puff, no Internet all day Dx This trip is tiring already]]

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Yay And I'm sorry you're trip is tiring! <3 Hope to see you on msn again soon.

Roibin was quite sure that Rafe didn't like his tea, but was just afraid of saying anything rude about it. After all, Roibin was utterly terrible at making things that didn't come prepackaged, not to mention the fact that tea without a good helping of sugar (and by good helping he meant at least three tablespoons) or some good flavored liquor. Trying to be as gracious a host as he could be with such limited domestic skills, Roibin bustled over to the cabinet and grabbed several bottles of fruit-flavored liquor and some sugar in a jar so big one would be hard pressed to find it practical even for hard candies. Placing them on the table, Roi looked a bit sheepish.

"I'm utterly terrible at making tea, if you haven't noticed. I don't drink it very often, and when I do I have to put something in it!" he giggled. "Mine's a bit full of limoncello, if you'd prfer that instead." The bubbly blonde slid back into his chair, knee clanking against the underpinning of the small table. Pookie, realizing he'd just been talked about had made his way under Roibin's feet and was trying to climb into his master's lap by hopping on his tiny little twiggy legs. Taking pity on him, Roibin scooped Pookie up in one hand and plopped the tiny animal on his lap. He poured a bit of plain tea from the kettle and a few drops of vodka and some sugar into the saucer he'd balanced his teacup on. The tiny fennec fox began lapping it up like he was dehydrated (which he was anything but, spoiled little thing), while Roibin scratched behind his ears.

"Oh I never got the chance to visit any of the tombs in Egypt! That must have been so fun! I was too busy out in the desert. Which was fun, but sometimes it would have been nice to do tourist-y things. I did get to visit Beijing in China though! That was definitely fun! I've never been to any of the Americas though. Were they amazing? I got invited on an expedition to Canada a few years ago, but I had to turn it down, for various reasons," he added vaguely. "And France is...lovely, when you don't run into older senile people who think you're a German soldier," he chuckled uncomfortably.

"I definitely understand the rush," he agreed, a bit of calmness coming over his normally frantic face. "It might be based off a sense of arrogance, but I do get a rush out of besting my peers on such discoveries."

Suddenly his face took on a bit of a sad calm. "Oh, I do love children! And I adore teaching, honestly. As fascinating as creatures are humans are thousands of times more complex. It's just something most people forget since...well, since we are humans. We just take things for granted. And as fascinating as going on an expedition to Assyria to monitor the migration patterns of the Lamassu is, teaching is much more rewarding." For once, he cut himself off prematurely. He was sure Rafe had been quite happy and popular with his time at Hogwarts if his future career was any indicator. To be quite honest, Roibin had hated the place up until his first year of teaching, and if it hadn't been for the headmistress, he wouldn't have set foot back in the place again. Rafe wouldn't have understood though. Besides, he probably wouldn't even care to know.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

Rafe eyed the containers Vespers plonked in front of him, turning a suspicious glare on both the sweeteners and the man who owned them. So Vespers had cottoned on to Rafe’s concerns about the contents of his cup, and was now calling him on it. Clearly he was challenging him to either drink the poison or draw his wand and end this sick little game, and this was the moment where the confrontation went to a climax. Rafe didn’t want that, though. Oh, it wasn’t that he was enjoying talking to this psychopath, or that he was afraid of taking him on in a one-on-one duel. Rafe knew perfectly well that if push came to shove, he could probably overpower Vespers physically or magically…if it was a fair match. But if Vespers was pushing for a fight, he clearly had some sort of ace up his sleeve that he thought would be enough to help him win.

Well, Rafe wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He needed a moment to think, but he would come up with some sort of way to have the confrontation on his own terms. To come out on top. He just needed a moment to think of something, so he reached out and grabbed one of the containers of flavored liquor, deciding to forego the veritable barrel of pure sugar in that he preferred the threat of inebriation to that of dentistry. Mouth quirking up a bit against his will, Rafe enjoyed for a moment the image of Vespers being assaulted by enraged French octogenarians, no doubt beating him with canes and breadsticks. If Rafe ever did visit France, he’d probably buy them some snails or prunes or whatever the hell old French people eat.

Savoring the fantasy, Rafe smirked to himself as he unscrewed the top of the bottle he grabbed, not much caring exactly what flavor it was. He could really care less how palatable the poison was as it went down his throat. Pouring it into his drink, he tried to think up a plan as he struggled to continue their small talk. “Ah, yes, the Americas. I never went north, but South America became rather special to me. While Egypt surely has been explored by plenty of curse-breakers, the tombs across South America are much more unexplored territory. I spent a lot of time there—I even still pull for the Tarapoto Tree-Skimmers, you know.”

Rafe put the bottle down and recapped it before swirling his cup a bit, hoping to make the liquor blend with the tea. Most wizards would simply tap their wand against the rim and have the drink stir itself, but in all honesty, Rafe was not that good at charms. They would often either work feebly or disastrously bad, depending on their difficulty and his mental state, so he tried to avoid them at all costs. Demonstrating his weakness in front of a man trying to kill him was even worse than the usual embarrassment.

Rafe tipped his head slightly as he thought of how to respond to Vespers’ talk of his joy of teaching. Rafe wanted to get the younger man to say something that might give a clue about what in Rafe’s hiring had angered the other man so much, but so far he wasn’t picking up any hint of internal politics within the teaching staff that might be simmering under the surface. “I can’t say that teaching was something I imagined for myself, as lovely as you make it sound,” Rafe said mildly, tilting his cup slightly and watching the alcohol mix in as he wondered whether or not the contents of the cup could kill him. “That was my great-uncle’s calling, and he spoke as glowingly as you do about it, so it was under his advice that I decided to give it a go after Goblin Liaisons.” Sparking a bit of an idea, Rafe asked coyly, “This being my first year, I can only assume that my position as Potionsmaster was quite recently vacated. Who was the previous teacher of my new class?”

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Roi giggled a bit as Rafe immediately went for the alcohol. He'd never pictured the other man as liking the taste of watermelon vodka, but then again Rafe seemed to be full of surprises. Most people after all called ahead for a visit instead of breaking into people's houses. Not that Roibin minded, as he was far too used to unexpected company and was rather disappointed that he hadn't had any lately.

"I could imagine," Roibin said in response to Rafe's being one of the few cursebreakers to explore the South American tombs. "That must have been fascinating! And dangerous, too, if not many others have been before. Which tombs did you explore? Mayan, Aztec, Inca? All three? Were their curses that much more different than Egyptians or Europeans?" He was rambling and he knew it, but he had so few opportunities to ask such questions! "What about the magical creatures down there? Did you run into anything dangerous? Or just anything interesting?"

Roibin had drained the tea cup and at this point was too fed up to even pretend to like his own tea. He reached across the table and grabbed the same bottle of vodka that Rafe had used only a few minutes ago and poured a good amount straight into his cup. he was already a bit buzzed and was headed straight into being downright tipsy, but it seemed by Rafe's acquiescence to drinking a little himself was loosening Roi up. He nodded a bit at the Quidditch reference. Roibin never really followed Quidditch: he knew the rules and the local teams, but didn't bother with much else.

"Well, to be honest, I never thought I'd be teaching either," Roibin giggled a bit. "I'd never been great with kids, even when I was one. I seem to have gotten over that though, at least enough for the students to like me! Frankly, I always pictured one of my sisters as more the professorially sort, at least if they'd applied themselves to more than marrying well."

Roibin tilted his head ta the mention of the last Potions professor. "Fraulein Rosenthorn didn't tell you? She was the last Potions professor," Roibin explained. "Before she became Headmistress of course. A position she certainly deserves," he said glowingly.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

Rafe found himself narrowing his eyes in surprise as Vespers drank down his full cup of tea and went straight for the jug of booze. Rafe raised his eyebrows, then instantly felt irritated at himself for almost falling for the ploy. Clearly there were two possibilities. Either there was no poison in those, or it was one that would cause harm to Rafe and not Vespers. Straight out of The Princess Bride, huh? Rafe thought, quirking an eyebrow and stifling the urge to shout ‘Inconceivable!’ and throw the table at him.

Deciding to be a little bolder and call him out a bit, Rafe reached into his robes and pulled out a small flask, holding it up for a second for Vespers to see. “My personal brew; I take it with me everywhere,” he said pointedly, wiggling the vial and hoping Vespers would take the hint: You’ll never catch me off-guard. Whether or not it was true, he wanted to project that image. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked casually, not waiting for a response as he dumped the entire vial into the cup, figuring that he might as well be extra careful and put in more than would normally be deemed necessary.

As he swirled the antidote in with the other contents of the cup, he put half a mind to answering the barrage of questions Vespers had thrown at him. “I explored lots of tombs from lots of ancient civilizations,” he answered absently. “The curses were indeed a lot different. The most dangerous and fascinating of the types of magic that is more common among tombs of South America is blood magic, truly effective magic that is deep and difficult—sometimes impossible—to break. There were also some clever traps that usually tripped me up, involving Astrology and Arithmancy. Every area has its share of powerful and unusual types of magic, but I was always quite fascinated and challenged by the ones I found in South America, all the more due to being one of the few to encounter them.”

Rafe realized that his voice had grown charged the more he spoke, reflecting his vivid memories of his curse-breaking days and his deep love of them. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable at showing even a small amount of emotion in front of anyone, and enraged at doing so in front of someone trying to kill him. Watching the contents of his swirling cup, he reflected mildly, “I see. No, I don’t recall the Headmistress mentioning. Considering she’s become Head of the chool so recently, I imagine she’s quite busy.” Struggling for more to say that might help him, he asked, “So, what is the staff like in general? Anything I should be aware of?”

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Roi tilted his head in a manner reminiscent of a confused puppy. He didn't understand why Rafe would need anything else in his tea unless...oh! A Hangover Potion, he reasoned. Smiling, the young professor nodded. "Of course, use whatever you wish! Of course, if you drink in moderation you probably wouldn't need it..." He giggled. "But then again, I've never been one for moderation myself, so that would be rather hypocritical of me!" if Roibin had known what Rafe was thinking, he would have been appalled at how deep a hole he had dug himself into. As it was, the blond was blissfully unaware of his colleague's thoughts.

Roibin leaned in and listened intently as Rafe went over all the things he'd experienced in South America, nodding occasionally as bits he had some knowledge about came up. "Blood magic was very prevalent in the Black Forest magical communities all the way up until the end of the Second Muggle World War. Eventually it had to die down, as the dictator Hitler was fanatical in finding and using occult resources. Blood magic was very powerful, apparently even the muggles could detect it. Apparently, my father knows some, though I've never been curious enough--or foolish enough--to ask him of it."

Rafe loved his old job, that much was obvious. Roibin felt bad for him, that he had to leave it for whatever reasons. Roi had chosen to take a break from research; he would have been heartbroken if he'd been forced to leave his studies. Sighing, he placed a hand down on the table, and looked over at the older professor. "I'm quite sorry you miss it so much. I hope you'll grow to love teaching just as much."

As Rafe snapped out of his daze, Roi moved his hand back to his cup. "Ah yes, Fraulein Rosenthorn is very busy lately. I'm very surprised she didn't mention it." Roi froze at the question. Many of the other staff, he was sure, would point to Roi himself as a cause of trouble just out of his sheer obliviousness to the world around him. There were really no bad professors that he should warn Rafe about. Except...."Erm...Professor McDemiguise, the Head of Slytherin perhaps. She is a good teacher no doubt, and good to the students, but she is rather difficult to get along with on a personal basis. At least that I've found. You two may get along splendidly!" He doubted it, of course, but it was worth covering the bases.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

If Rafe had been drinking something yet, he would have choked on it when Roibin spoke. Had he just…incriminated himself? At this point Rafe had assumed that Vespers would play innocent until called pointedly out, if then. Apparently being bolder had encouraged Roi to act similarly. Rafe narrowed his eyes at the other professor over his cup. Drink in moderation? A taunt, perhaps a warning, that more than a small ingestion of the poison would kill him even with the antidote he had dumped in?

Suddenly feeling chilled at the other man’s saccharine threat, Rafe’s lips thinned as the other man turned to the subject of blood magic. Vespers casually spoke of the prevalence where he came from, and his father’s familiarity of it. Another threat, that even if Rafe avoided poisoning and gave Vespers the death or imprisonment he had clearly earned that Rafe would soon be hunted down by an enraged warlock well-versed in the old arts?

“Blood magic is indeed rare and potent, a double-edged sword that few wizards can safely wield,” Rafe murmured, glancing down at his cup with an arched brow belying his simmering temper. “Your father would have to be a powerful wizard, indeed, to manage its strength.” Clearing his throat, he added innocently, “I became fairly familiar with the rituals during my time, notably how they could be thwarted or worked around. It isn’t easy, but I gained somewhat of a knack.”

Rafe almost snorted when Vespers feigned sympathy and claimed that Rafe would come to love teaching. Even setting aside the fact that it was probably a veiled promise that if both of them walked away from this bizarre little stand-off that Vespers would make working life a living hell, Rafe doubted he was really meant to be a teacher. He’d never been particularly enchanted with children, seeing them as being closer to manticores than cherubs. “We’ll see,” he said darkly, “though I imagine that depends on how hard I’ll have to work to stuff their skulls with knowledge.”

So Vespers was warning him off this McDemiguise woman, was he? To what end? All that Rafe could think was that McDemiguise might be of use to him somehow, presumably as an ally against Vespers. Perhaps she knew of some weakness or secret of his that might help Rafe bring down Vespers. If that was the case, Rafe knew who the first person he planned to talk to was as soon as he had a moment alone with the Hogwarts staff. “I never liked Slytherins when I was at school,” Rafe commented noncommittally, “always thought they were ridiculously arrogant over nothing. As I understand it, however, the barriers between houses have broken down some since I was at school.”

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

(So I'm a horrid person for not talking much but my laptop got stolen on Friday, which is why I haven't been on msn. I'm going to try to get on my rickety desktop tonight, so you better be on to talk )


It was times like these Roibin could have used a good education in the style of the Muggle sitcom. If he'd had such experiences, he would have known far more about hilarious misunderstandings. Then again, he may not have, as no one in the shows were aware till the end of the thirty minutes to an hour (including commercials). It was very doubtful that this was a misunderstanding that would end with exasperated sighs and a cheeseball laugh track. Not that Roibin had anything against ending every hour with a laugh track. In fact, were he aware of their existence, he would have charmed his clock to make the sound every time the thing chimed.

But as it was said, Roibin was hopelessly unaware of Muggle sitcoms, and indeed he was hopelessly unaware of just abut everything not dealing in his specific field. Therefore, instead of explaining his suspicions about a Hangover Potion, Roibin went forward with Rafe's mentions of blood magic.

"Well...I don't know how well he can handle it. Like I said, I've never asked. To be fair, my father and I don't talk--we never really have--so asking about something as--erm..." he tried to find the word, "delicate a subject as that would not be prudent. He may have taught my brother, but I've never asked him either. We do talk though," he added hastily. "He's the only one of my family I do talk to, but..." he shrugged. "We don't get along a very well. My father sent me to Hogwarts, while all my siblings went to Durmstrang, and whatnot."

"Heh, I've never even witnessed blood magic beyond text illustrations, to be quite honest. Never something that's come up with studying creatures, as I'm sure you would imagine."

Roibin paused at the mental image of Rafe angrily yelling information at his students, and wondered for a moment if he should be concerned. He would at least be sure to keep an eye on the first year Ravenclaws to make sure they didn't look scared for life.

"I've never really had many opinions about the House rivalry," he replied a bit forcedly to Rafe. "Of course, I do believe my own House to be the best, but everyone does I believe. I didn't get along that fantastically with anyone in school really," he added in far too chipper a tone.

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

Rafe arched an eyebrow, interested despite himself. He hadn’t actually wanted at any point previous in the conversation to know more about the other man for any kind of personal basis. All questions he had asked were in hopes of getting an angle—to figure out what he had done to inspire such a heinous assassination attempt, or of how to turn the tables and gain an undeniable advantage over the other wizard so as to make certain no further attempts would be made on his life. He would have a hard enough time adjusting to his new career—that of brat-herder—without the fuss of dodging the bizarre machinations of a demented German.

However, with all this in mind…he found himself genuinely curious. One couldn’t quite say that he had suddenly found himself desirous of a close acquaintance with Vespers, but this little fact about his past did pique a touch of curiosity. Cup of poison momentarily forgotten, Rafe ventured, “And why was that? Oh, not your distance with your family. If I were to pen my own book on magizoology it would no doubt be titled A Study On the Savagery of Mad Relatives. I mean why were you sent to Hogwarts instead?

“Yes, I’d highly doubt you’ve come across puffskeins committing ritual blood ceremonies,” Rafe acknowledged with bland wit, studying his cup impassively. “Just as I didn’t run into too many creatures on my journeys. Certainly I had to go through some jungle to reach the tombs, but I profess I never really paid much mind to any of its inhabitants. And as the places I was exploring were so old, any animal protectors—or, I’d suppose, any animals with the simple bad luck of getting trapped—added in were long dead. You can imagine my astonishment entering one tomb to find the skeletal remains of a Peruvian Vipertooth inside. The skull is in a museum somewhere, but I did get to keep a claw for myself.”

On the subject of house rivalries, Rafe pursed his lips for a moment in thought. It seemed like a veritable age since he had been a student, so it took him a moment to collect his own memories of the experience. “I never cared for Slytherins all that much during my time there,” he reflected pensively, “and though in general an alright bunch, I found Gryffindors painfully dense at times. Ravenclaws were always alright by me, though, and I was always quite fond of my own house, as you say. It was my great-uncle’s, and I joined the year Cedric Diggory was champion.”

[If I ever take another pill in my life, it will be way too damn soon.]

[Professor Roibin Vespers]

Roibin nodded with an air of over-exaggerated solemnity. "Ah, mad relatives are a subject that could last for days with me--as with you, I would wager. As for why I was sent to Hogwarts--ah... well, I suppose I do have a bit more of the, well, eccentric knowledge of it. For instance, the side effects caused by use in a parent can be passed on to a child with extensive use. Especially when there is build-up for awhile--a, um, long period between having children. For instance if one started using blood magic in their teens but waited until their forties until they had children, then I imagine the result would be utterly disastrous."

The mad professor wonder vaguely how blunt he should be about the matter. "I have four older siblings. It is not as bad as it could be.

"But, and there is always a but, there are ten years between myself and the next youngest sibling. After dealing with me for eleven years, I cannot really blame them for wanting to send me away," he said with a touch of bitterness. It sloughed off with disturbing ease only to be replaced with a slightly off-kilter smile. "I was quite a mad child as you may have imagined," he giggled.

"I would have loved to be on that excavation. I've never really been on any dig for bo--animal bones, it sounds fascinating," he stated, hoping Rafe didn't notice his slight. He probably had, poor paranoid creature. The man needed to relax. Roibin giggled a bit, as he imagined the face Rafe might make if Roi so much as bumped a foot against his under the table. It would almost be worth raising the ire of Professor Rosenthorn.

He paused as Rafe discussed his own years at Hogwarts. "I am terribly sorry you had to be around for that," Roibin said honestly. "No child should have to deal with a war, especially one like that." He had seen the effects still etched on the faces of old family members and neighbors who had lived through the World Wars. And those few times he'd been over to the Apothecary by himself as a child, he'd heard the horrifying explanation behind the wizened old muggleborn potion-seller's strange number tattoo and all of the nightmare inducing stories that had gone with it. The horror human beings could commit on each other were still beyond him at that age, and to be honest Roibin never really wanted to gain an understanding.

Rousing himself from his own thoughts, he smiled at Rafe's proclamation. "I'm glad you find my House satisfactory. I do believe I would be heartbroken otherwise," he joked.


((OOC: What happened hun? Are you okay?))

[Professor Rafe Cardozo]

Rafe surveyed Vespers suspiciously—though, in all fairness, he didn’t have too many more ways of surveying people at the best of times—as the younger man spoke of being…tainted by the dark practices of his father, moreso than his brothers were. This again struck Rafe as an attempt to frighten him off, hoping he’d believe that Vespers was some sort of dangerous lunatic with mysterious dark powers that could prove more than enough to end him, or at least make him wish he’d been ended.

Like Rafe would fall for that unicorn dung. He didn’t have to be an accomplished magizoologist with a stack of books to his name to know there were creatures out there with certain traits to try warding off predators. Lizards that puff out large ruffs, harmless snakes colored similar to venomous ones. That was exactly what Vespers was trying to accomplish. He wanted Rafe to think he was dangerous and not worth the effort by pretending he was more dangerous than he was.

Well, Rafe was not buying that for a second. He had always been an excruciatingly alert fellow, and he knew exactly what was going on here. If Vespers hoped to cover up his little slip, that Rafe wouldn’t notice it, then he could think again. Rafe was very aware of Vespers’ quick correction—“animal bones”—and he didn’t need to have had Auror friends for years to know that, generally speaking, any wizard digging up human remains was not a wholesome one.

Vespers seemed self-conscious of his slip-up and quickly went on to wax on in fake sympathy about how sad it was that Rafe had lived through the war, so on and so forth. If Rafe had thought Vespers meant any of it, he would have nodded in his stiff way as thanks for the sentiment. As it was, however, he was certain Vespers was attempting to distract him from the slip of the tongue about bones, and didn’t mean a damn word he said.

Gritting his teeth, Rafe decided to take the plunge and taste the tea. Lifting it to his lips, he took in the slightest bit of tea, remembering Vespers’ taunt about “moderation”. With a small chill of fear, Rafe swallowed. And then waited. And waited. And nothing whatsoever happened to him. The tea itself gave no hint of what Vespers poisoned it with, because it stunk and stung of a large amount of alcohol. Further diluting the taste was the antidote he had poured in. Hell, he could hardly taste the tea aspect, let alone the poison.

It was poisoned, wasn’t it? Rafe’s assurance wavered slightly, but he cast aside the concern. If it wasn’t with the intent to poison him, why else on Earth would Vespers get it in his head to sit down to tea? No, chances were either that he had consumed a small enough amount or poured in a strong enough dose of antidote that it didn’t affect him. Emboldened by his victory over Vespers’ second murder attempt, Rafe set down the cup on the table again. Leaning forward, he narrowed his eyes and murmured darkly, “Well, what are you waiting for, Vespers? Go for it. Be a man. Make your move already.”