Explanations
Sunday, July 10, 1994
Ioana woke up to the sounds of tap, tap, tapping outside of her window. She groaned. It was Sunday, finally her first day off, and she’d intended to take advantage of it, and sleep in.
Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap.
With another groan, she rolled out of bed, and opened the window, expecting an owl. Instead, there was an odd looking grey and black crow, who held out it’s leg imperiously for her to remove a note. She obeyed.
“I’m sorry!” Ioana said when it hopped on her shoulder and pecked her ear. “I don’t keep bird food in my room- what do crows eat, anyways? Well, come on then, I’ll see what we have in the kitchen...” she said, carrying note and bird downstairs. Crookshanks yawned, stretched, and padded downstairs after them, eyeing the bird. “Don’t you dare,” Ioana warned, and he yawned and stretched again, pausing on the stairs to clean his rear leg disdainfully. “Don’t play innocent – I know what you’re thinking,” she scolded as he continued to ignore her. Still, the moment she kept walking, she heard his foot steps following her again.
In the kitchen, the bakery basket was already full for the day, and the crow hopped over to it, selecting and withdrawing a fresh, cheese filled banitsa slice, and dragging it over to a place setting. Ioana huffed, as Crookshanks watched, and not to be outdone, copied the crow, dragging over his own slice to his own place at the table. Just what she needed, her cat learning more bad behaviour from some bird.
“What if I’d wanted that,” she grumbled crossly.
“Good morning,” Iskra said from the doorway with amusement- “who’s this?” she asked, as she entered the room and offered her finger to the crow, who allowed her to stroke his belly and neck before resuming his banitsa-feast.
“I’m not sure – it had a letter for me, but I haven’t opened it yet.” Ioana said, waving the letter she was still carrying.
Iskra frowned, “Not many families use hooded crows as messenger birds,” she said. “Here, let me check that.” Ioana passed over the letter and watched as Iskra cast a few spells, inspecting it. “Seems clean,” she said, passing it back. “Open it?”
Iona unfolded it, and found a letter written in bright, mulitcoloured purple and green ink that shimmered silver and sparkled in places, written in enthusiastically illegible strokes on thick parchment – she squinted a bit – in what was probably German.
She skimmed to the bottom signature, “It’s from Vera Dolohova,” she said. “I met her yesterday at the book shop.”
“Ah, Vera,” Iskra said with a slight smile. “She’s elf-raised, that one.”
“Elf-raised?”
“Her parents were... neglectful. Left the children to be raised by elves while they gallivanted around. Elf children tend to be a bit wild, a bit moody, and quite spoiled– but she and her brother are good children, for all that. Probably better off raised by elves than those parents of theirs, really. Radka enjoys having them around in the summers, and Trayan’s been a good friend to Viktor since he started at Durmstrang. Vera’s just finished her second year, I think.”
“There was something... odd... about her,” Ioana agreed carefully. “She apologized, said she’d dropped her shields? Is that “elf raised?”
“Oh, no, that’s different - her mother’s half-samovida.”
“Samovida?”
“Veela, in English. Oh – I’d forgotten! You don’t have them, in England, do you? They’re not quite like witches and wizards – another magical race, like the Goblins. Never, ever, betray a veela,” Iskra warned. “They’ll hunt an enemy to the end of the earth, but there’s no better friend than a veela. They seduce wizards, and, if their offspring isn’t samovida enough, return them to the family of the father. It’s considered quite a blessing to have a bit of veela blood, really, but it can be hard on the children. Vera has it worse than most, I think, she gets it from both sides, strongly – the Dolohov’s have intermarried with the samodiva-blessed more than once, and the line’s always been odder than most. Rumours the line started with something not-quite-human – maybe a nošno – that married a witch. A bit mad, the Dolohovs.Still- Vera and her brother are good children, good friends to Viktor.”
Ioana’s mind flew with so many questions. She’d known Goblins could produce children with witches and wizards, and giants (her mind flew to Flitwick and Hagrid), but she’d not thought any further than that... was this common?! How many other creatures were there?! How did the genetics of it all work? Did that mean that there was a common ancestor and a fairly recent divergence? She brushed those thoughts aside, mind going back to her interaction with Vera. “Radka mentioned Occlumency?”
Iskra laughed. “That bad, was it? I suppose that’s another thing not taught in your Hogwarts,” she said, disdain dripping from her voice at the name of the school. Ioana repressed her urge to object. “There’s a large samodiva colony here in Bulgaria, we’ll be bringing a few with us, as team mascots. The adults tend to just target men, but they can pull anyone, if they want to – Vera was the most convincing child!- I’ll work with you on Occlumency, now that I think I have the warding under control. It’s an important skill, for international work. Oh – and I’m hoping tomorrow to work with you on practicing stadium warding and detection. I think we’ve got the Arithmancy sorted, now to work on something a bit more practical.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Ioana said. “I’ve really wanted to see how you implement le Fae’s Constant, on such a large scale structure...”
“Yes, of course – it requires dividing the area into 13 equal area pieces – thankfully the stadium is a circle, which makes it easier, and from the plans that have been sent, so is the stadium they’re constructing in England -”
The crow chose that moment to fly from the table, and dive-bombed the hand still holding the letter, “Ouch! I’ll read it, you blasted bird!” Ioana muttered. “NO, Crooks!” she shouted, as the cat prepared to leap in retaliation. Crooks ignored her, unwilling to tolerate the insult to his mistress, but the bird flew up, landing on top of the cupboard. Crookshanks leapt for the bird, Ioana lept for the cat, and cat and witch landed in a tumble on the ground, with Iskra laughing, and the bird calling mockingly from the top of the cupboard.
“What did she write, dear?” Iskra asked through her laughter. Ioana, one arm still banded tightly around the struggling cat, opened the letter again.
Ioana!
I was so pleased to meet you at the bookshop yesterday and I hope to see you again at Viktor’s party.
Radka and Viktor are having a horrible row this morning – did he really go muggle baiting? That’s not like him at all! She’s threatening to ban him from the Abraxans for the rest of the summer if he’s going to behave like a child, he’s saying he’s an adult now, and can move out... I think he’s going to run to his aunt’s, like he always does when they argue.
Oops – he’s just leaving as I send this - he’s got his broom with him, he likes to fly a while to cool off after an argument. Hopefully Aristotle gets there first!
See you soon,
Vera Dolohova
“Viktor’s coming!” Iona shrieked as she dashed for the stairs, still carrying her protesting cat, chased by a crow, with Iskra laughing from the kitchen.She was still in her pyjamas! She hadn’t even brushed her hair or used the lav! She only distantly heard the front door open, right as she slammed her bedroom door shut.
///
Dressed, lavatory-ed, teeth brushed, hair brushed, and Ioana could hear the sounds of voices downstairs. She dashed off a quick note to Vera, and sent it with her insistent crow,
Vera
Thank you so much for the warning – I just read your note as he arrived! I so enjoyed our conversation and hope to see you, too. No, Viktor didn’t go Muggle baiting, he was just very careless.
See you soon,
Ioana Petrova
That done, she considered hiding in her room – did she really want to deal with an even MORE grumpy Viktor?- but finally decided she wouldn’t let some boy make her hide in her own home. Well, Iskra’s home. The home in which she was staying. That was Viktor’s aunt’s.Who he was really close with. Oh, Merlin. Still, she squared her shoulders and glided down the stairs, head up, oozing with false confidence, trailed by her cat. Ioana Petrova was no coward.
Viktor and Iskra were seated in the kitchen, sipping Turkish coffee, and Viktor sprang to his feet automatically when she entered, although Ioana noted that he still wouldn’t look at her.
“Good morning, dear,” Iskra said sunnily, as if Ioana hadn’t just dashed up the stairs half an hourearlier.
“Good morning,” Ioana said, forcing a smile and happy tone in response.
Iskra poked her nephew. “Good morning, Ioana,” he said stonily.
“Good morning, Viktor,” Ioana replied frostily.
“Well, that was awkward,” Iskra said with a huff. “Come, sit down,” she ordered, gesturing to a chair, and Viktor automatically pulled it out for her. Ioana sat, straight backed, and Viktor sat back down next to her. With a wave, Iskra floated over another coffee cup from where it sat on the counter, and dispelled the stasis charm on it. Ioana took a sip.... Mmm... Iskra appeared to cook nothing but coffee, but she was a master at it.
“Viktor flew over to have breakfast with us this morning.”
Viktor scowled at Ioana, “Don’t worry, I was disillusioned when I flew here.”
“I never doubted you would be,” she said stiffly.
“Here, have a pastry,” Iskra said, shoving the basket over to her. Ioana picked up a piece of banitsa, and nibbled it politely, as Viktor sipped his coffee and an awkward silence descended on the table.
“I understand from Viktor that the two of you had a disagreement regarding his flying, at the beach,” Iskra said, not one to dance around a subject.
Ioana nodded. “We did.” Oh, Merlin, could people please stop bringing this up? Viktor and her were FINE ignoring each other, and truly, why did they need to talk about it, again? There was really only three to six weeks left in the summer, she’d withstood awkwardness and resentment for far longer than that!
“Aunt,” Viktor complained with a scowl.
“This summer is going to be far too awkward, with the two of you not speaking to each other,” Iskra said, as if reading her assistant’s thoughts. “Now, Viktor – what do you have to say about it?”
“Nobody was harmed! My mother AND my father have both told me I was irresponsible, and a disgrace to the Krumov name, and embarrassed them, and the honour I’ve been given, as Bulgaria’s youngest World Cup seeker. But I was fine, the child was fine, and no one was hurt!”
“No one!” Ioana spat. “No one?! No one except the Muggles who had to be obliviated!”
“Oh, is that what the problem is?” Iskra said. “Viktor – who are Ioana’s parents?”
He paused, comprehension dawning on his face. “They’re Muggles.”
“And I’m proud of that,” Ioana hissed.
That was correct but, oh, why couldn’t she picture them?!
“But – it wasn’t your parents, they were just some random Muggles,” Viktor said mulishly.
“They’re SOMEONE’s parents, someone’s children! What if some English wizard had done the same thing, and they’d had their memory damaged. Obliviation can cause lifelong damage to a Muggle’s memory, and they need their memory for their work!”
Viktor’s eyes widened. “I ... suppose it could. I’ve never really met a Muggle.”
“They’re people, they matter, too!”
“Do they really need their memories to work? I thought Muggles did manual labour – farmwork, mining...” he asked, sounding genuinely curious, then closed his mouth, looking a bit horrified at what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back.
“Of course they do! My parents are dentists – specialized Healers! And even if they weren’t, memory loss can ruin lives! You’re just a Quidditch player, not an academic – what if someone ruined your memory!? Surely you don’t need it to chase a little golden ball around?” she spat.
Viktor opened his mouth, as if to argue – closed it – opened it again, realization dawning. He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Ioana. I was insensitive - I hadn’t considered that you might have a moral objection to the obliviation of Muggles, and a personal reason to object to my actions...” he frowned. “I hadn’t considered the Muggles at all, and how it might affect them.”
“I’m sorry for exploding, like I did. I was genuinely worried about you, too,” Ioana said. She felt like this, insufficient as it was, was more of an apology than she was accustomed to getting, then wondered who she knew who ought to apologize to her more often? “I know you had your wand, but I’ve never been convinced a wand truly would stop a bullet. I was worried about you, too.”
He nodded. “Not my best idea,” he agreed. “I’ll try not to be so careless again. Friends?”he asked, a bit hopefully, holding out his hand with a tentative smile.
“Friends,” Ioana agreed, grabbing his warm, broom-callused hand, and shaking it. As she looked into his warm brown eyes, she felt a pleasant shiver go through her. He squeezed just a bit, covering her hand with his other hand before releasing it, leaving her feeling strangely bereft.
Iskra sighed. “I’m glad that’s cleared up. Ioana, when we get to England, I’d hoped to meet with your parents. May I suggest that we bring Viktor, and possibly, if it’s not too much of an imposition, may I suggest that the two of you do some sightseeing in Muggle England? I’m afraid it’s an aspect of your education that we’ve neglected, Viktor, and not one taught at Durmstrang. There are some advantages to knowing how to behave when one finds oneself with Muggles, and I’m sorely out of practice. I’m sure you’ll find it quite... educational.”
“Of course!” Ioana said, mind already plotting all the things she could show Viktor in London. She’d accepted his apology, but she’d noted he hadn’t acknowledged that Muggles were people, too.
She’d work on that.
“Viktor, dear, since you’re here, would you take Ioana into the garden and review somebasic Occlumancy exercises with her, please? Apparently, that isn’t a subject taught at Hogwarts, and I think it might help in a number of ways for her to learn a bit more about mental magic. Occlumancy’s really just so important, going into a foreign country for an important event, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” Viktor said. “Ioana? Would you like to come to the garden with me?” Ioana nodded and followed him out, carrying her coffee and pastry. Crookshanks stalked out after them, but immediately disappeared – he’d fallen in love with hunting in the garden, and regally accepted Iskra’s coos of praise every time he caught a pest.
“You don’t need to help me with Occlumancy, if you’re busy,” Ioana hedged.
Viktor rolled his eyes. “I think thatwas a hint from my aunt that I’ve been neglecting my own Occlumancy practice,” he said, gesturing her to sit on the porch swing next to the quietly burbling fountain. “It’s by far my worst subject. It’s no bother at all to review it with you, especially with my friend and his sister visiting. Do you truly not learn it in Hogwarts?”
“I’d never even heard of it before yesterday.”
“Well, I can explain a bit, and I can perhaps lend you some books – your spoken German is good, do you read it well?”
“Better than I speak it,” Ioana admitted.
“Good – I can lend you my textbooks from Durmstrang then. First – it can take years to learn it, I’m still far from an expert, and I’ve been learning since before I started Durmstrang. Most of the old families learn it early, really. It’s useful for all sorts of things, the first of which is any sort of influence-magic – like old tombs, that might be charmed. Or things with repelling charms on them.”
“Oh – like the muggle repelling charms around Hogwarts!” Ioana said.
“Exactly, but designed for witches and wizards. Umm... I guess you met Vera – she was talking about you at dinner, yesterday?”
Ioana nodded.
“Right – so, she’s part samodiva, and, their magic is also influence based. Which is why it’s useful – Vera’s not got perfect control yet, but the samodiva we’ll bring as mascots to the cup certainly do. They can be tricky, sometimes, and convince you to do things you might otherwise not, particularly if you’re weak willed or prone to emotion. So basic Occlumency’s all about learning to control your emotions better.”
“That’s it? So it’s like Muggle meditation?”
“I’m not sure – I don’t know what that is,” Viktor admitted, looking a bit defensive, and Ioana remembered their quarrel again, and didn’t push. “But at the basic form, it’s knowing your own mind, recognizing your emotions, know which are yours, which aren’t, and being able to manipulate them – suppress them, at first, but later, change them.” Viktor grinned, and opened his hand. Wandlessly, wordlessly, a red primrose appeared in his hand, and he tucked it behind Ioana’s ear. Merlin, stop blushing, Ioana. It’s just a friendly gesture. “We’re not quite certain the link, but people who learn occlumancy tend to have an easier time of wandless magic, too, which is I think why Durmstrang teaches it. It can also help with breaking the Imperius curse – by the time you graduate Durmstrang, if you take Occlumancy through each year, even if you’re at the bottom of the class, that curse is fairly useless for anything more than a few minutes, maybe an hour at a time, and you’ll be able to recognize it.”
“Convenient to certain people in the last war that it isn’t taught at Hogwarts,” Ioana muttered to herself, remembering Lucius Malfoy’s sneer that day he’d dropped the diary in Ginny’s cauldron.
“It is, isn’t it?” Viktor said, looking grim. “That defense wouldn’t hold up on a Durmstang graduate. Probably why Karkarov – our headmaster – didn’t try it.” His nose wrinkled a little at the name of his headmaster, reminding Ioana uncomfortably of the disdain on Mr. Malfoy’s face...
“Your headmaster?”
“He was on the losing side of England’s last wizarding war,” Viktor said. “Nasty bloke, but he is Bulgarian, so he’s been good about letting me leave for Quidditch practice. Horribly paranoid – rumour has it he pissed off a bunch of England’s old families, ratting them out in exchange for avoiding Azkaban, and that’s why there are almost no English students at Durmstrang these days.”
“Your headmaster’s a Death Eater?!”
Viktor shrugged. “He was hired as the dark arts professor first. I had him in my younger years, he was a good practical teacher. And... back to the matter at hand, he was one of the occlumancy tutors. So – Occlumancy. In it’s most advanced form – it can block against Legilimancy, a form of magic where another being can read thoughts and memories, like looking through a pensieve. Karkarov is a half decent legilimens, and I hear your headmaster’s even better. Or it can even be used to manipulate what a legilimens can see. But also – it’s been described as a way to block possession.”
Ioana’s brain flickered back to a man in a turban, and she shuddered. “OK. I definitely want to learn.”
Viktor smiled. “I’m happy to help, as much as I can – just know it’s a slow project, and you can hurt yourself, if you rush it. But I can help with the basics.”
“What do I do?” Ioana asked eagerly.
“First – I want you to close your eyes, and listen to the sound of the fountain, and breathe. Focus on the fountain, and listen to your thoughts, your emotions. Categorize them, think about where they are coming from, and pushing them away, again, and again.”
Ioana scrunched her eyes tight and Viktor laughed “Relax!” Ioana focused on the fountain, and the sound of the water, and her thoughts, pushing them away, again, and again.
An hour later, Viktor was still quietly meditating, but Ioana cried off. “Enough. I think I might try a bombarda at the fountain if I have to focus on it for any longer,” she grumbled. “I have so many things I’d rather be thinking of.”
“There – at least there’s one thing I know you aren’t some kind of prodigy in,” Viktor joked. “I’d begun to think you instantly mastered anything you tried.”
Ioana sighed. “Two things.”
“Oh? What else? It certainly isn’t arithmancy or warding.”
“Flying,” Ioana admitted with a groan, dropping her head back and staring at the sky.
Viktor snorted. “You’re spending your summer with a bunch of professional Quidditch players – I don’t think it’s exactly a fair comparison, just like it wouldn’t be fair to compare your artithmancy to my aunt’s. And besides, I don’t think you care enough about Quidditch to actually try.”
“Yes, but I can’t even use a broom.”
“What do you mean, you can’t use a broom?” Viktor said, actually laughing out loud as he scoffed. “Toddlers use brooms. Surely that’s taught at Hogwarts, I know there are several famous muggleborn quidditch players out of Hogwarts, and lots of professional teams scout at Hogwarts, too - ”
“Oh, it’s taught all right,” Ioana said grimly. “But I was a disaster at it. Could only get it off the ground half the time. I was almost the first witch to ever have to repeat the course at the end of the year, everyone else had passed months before. They’d have made me repeat my whole year, just because of stupid broomstick flying! I never told anyone, but Professor McGonnagall intervened and negotiated for me to write three five foot essays – on the history of broom use, the manufacture and charming of brooms, and another on the theory of flight, and I think Madam Hooch was just so happy to have an excuse to see the back of me, I don’t even think she read them.”
Viktor’s jaw dropped. “You wrote... 15 feet of parchment – what is that, 5 meters?!- just to avoid having to repeat flying lessons?” he asked, incredulously.
“I was so relieved.”
“No. This is not acceptable. We are fixing this,” he said sternly. “Occlumancy might be hard, but flying? That’s one subject I’m more than qualified to teach. There is no way that you can work for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team and NOT know how to fly a broom. After my... umm... stunt, my parents have grounded me from flying at the estate for a week, but we can borrow some brooms at the stadium. Let’s tell my aunt where we’re going, and we can head out.”
“I really don’t think that’s necessary -” Ioana protested, but he simply grabbed her hand, put it in the crook of his arm and held it there, “Surely you’ve spent enough time on a broom this week-” she interjected, as he dragged her back inside.
“It’s necessary.” He raised his voice as they entered the house. “Aunt! We’re going to the stadium. Forget Occlumancy – Ioana doesn’t know how to fly!!!”