[La Casa da Tè] Choose a Job You Love (Sylvester, DJ)

WEDNESDAY, 21 AUGUST 2002, 12:36 PM

“Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”
― unknown

"Non parlo italiano. Sono qui per vedere Michaelangelo Antonelli, per favore," DJ answered stutteringly, in response to whatever rapid-fire Italian question the hostess had asked him. It was the only thing he had memorised and he certainly hoped that no additional conversation in that language would be necessary. Or that "Michaelangelo Antonelli" knew a good Translation Charm.

The news that his former teacher Professor Walker had connexions amongst a potioneering family in Italy, and that said family would be quite pleased to bring DJ on, had both delighted and confused the recent Hogwarts graduate. Firstly, why Italy? Secondly, why him? Aside from the fact that he really was quite accomplished as a potioneer himself (though not as accomplished as a transfigurer, he thought as he absent-mindedly ran his tongue across the mandrake leaf still against his upper left gums), he hadn't thought there was anything special to distinguish him amongst other potioneering students, especially considering there were graduates from much closer schools that he thought an Italian family would look at first. And, he mentally added with a note of depressed annoyance, if this is based entirely or even mostly on the accusations that I brewed that poison that turned Linnet into a tree, I might actually literally scream. He had been proved innocent of it, all the better since he really had been completely uninvolved. But the rumour never really died so much as it quieted down and made its rounds in hushed whispers.

Still, undecided as he was about what to do with his life after Hogwarts, DJ was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And while he could Apparate, he had never been out of the United Kingdom (except for the school weekend in Japan), so trying to get to Neroli that way was out of the question. If his hunch was right, maybe after tomorrow's full moon when he finished his Animagus potion he would have been able to fly under his own power, but Italy was still a great distance from Wales and there was at least one sea to cross, plus mountains. Fortunately his passport was still good and after a trio of security checks at the Ministry in London (during which he had to explain twice about the leaf in his mouth and show both the signed documents from Professor McGonagall and Professor Markham signing off on his procedure), he was cleared to take an international Floo transport to the Italian Ministry in the heart of Neroli itself, from which he got directions to the tea house.

All the way to the tea house he had been, unfortunately, a typical example of a British (well, Welsh) tourist. Gaping at the beautiful architecture and listening to the fluid ramblings of the city's shopkeepers, citizens, and carabinieri, he came to the sudden realisation that he was basically free to explore places like this whenever he wanted. He was an adult, and thanks to years of diligent keeping his purse (funded by the his caseworker in the Social Care department of the British Ministry) he had... well not a lot of money, but enough to survive and even take a few trips like this before needing to find a real job. And, finding a real job was exactly why he was here.

Snapping back to the present in the teahouse, he found himself following the hostess to a delicate looking table opposite the window wall of the establishment. He thanked her (in English, because he never learned or couldn't remember the Italian phrase and "gracias" didn't sound quite right), and took a seat while she went... back to her booth at the front of the teahouse. Um. Hopefully that meant Professor Walker, under his strange and obscure alias that he had repeatedly reminded DJ to use, already knew that he was here. Sighing, he shrugged his duffelbag off of his shoulder and tucked it under his chair between his feet. Professor Walker hadn't been clear on whether this was a same-day thing or would take a few days, and in case this trip turned out to require several nights of stay, he needed to have a variety of clothes and robes, plus the remains of his Animagus potion ingredients and paraphernalia. @Sylvester Walker

As his time in Italy was becoming more and more limited, whenever he would be within the country, Sylvester always made sure to visit his dear and close friends, the Bertinellis. That time, he had gotten the chance to visit Salvatore, in Venice. Their evening had been rather pleasant, for their conversations always remained on an academic and intellectual level. And, truth be told, while Sylvester was not a family man himself, he enjoyed the atmosphere in Salvatore’s house; his daughter, Donatella, and his wife, Yvonne, were especially interesting individuals.

Yvonne had been particularly communicative that evening, having been surprised by the fact that Sylvester had substituted for a Potions class at Hogwarts the past term. The conversation soon turned potions-centred, and Yvonne inquired if Sylvester knew of a recent graduate that would be interested in becoming her apprentice; while she had several apprentices already, Yvonne seemed to have always wanted to work with graduates from other wizarding schools, and had now found the perfect opportunity to do so through Sylvester. It was a complex situation; he knew a lot of recent graduates who were quite good at potions-making, nonetheless it was hard to state whether or not they would enjoy working with the Bertinelli family. Politics in Britain were especially problematic at the time being, and he couldn’t easily see someone working with a family with the reputation of the Bertinellis. Sylvester had promised to think it through, and offer Yvonne a possible apprentice should he find someone suitable. 

The first student that came through his mind was Damien Conway; it wasn’t because of his rather controversial past, but because Sylvester was aware there was a chance the certain young wizard could possibly be more open-minded than many of his fellow recent Hogwarts graduate mates. He’d contacted the young wizard through a letter, and established a meeting with him at his teahouse in Neroli; of course, Sylvester had to maintain his anonymity when in Italy and therefore made the formal request that Damien would inquire for Mr Michaelangelo Antonelli upon his arrival, and not use his real name.

If things would go well, by the end of the day Damien could even meet with Yvonne, and they would discuss further details themselves. However, Sylvester had to make sure his former student was comfortable with the idea in the first place; he sighed at the thought, realising how complicated the entire atmosphere in Britain had become. Nobody could openly approach anyone on all sorts of matters since the Wizarding War, as they were deemed as ‘sensible’. The British were perhaps too ‘sensible’, or at least that was what he personally thought.

The day of the meeting soon arrived, and as Sylvester was going through some letters in his personal quarters, Psyche came to inform him that his guest has arrived. Arranging his black robes, the wizard got up from behind his desk, leaving the unrolled parchments on the table and picking up instead another piece of paper. He then made his way downstairs, to the teahouse, to meet with his former student. Sylvester’d quickly noticed the table at which he’d been seated, and approached the recent graduate with a momentarily cordial smile. “Damien.” Sylvester greeted the young wizard, before taking a seat opposite to him. “I am pleased to see you managed to find the teahouse so easily.” Psyche came back, and Sylvester simply ordered some mint green tea for the two of them, thinking that Damien could use the refreshing beverage after his trip.

He then turned his attention back towards his former student. “Here.” He placed the scroll on the table, and pushed it forward in Damien’s direction. “It contains the details of the famous potioneer who is interested in having a Hogwarts graduate as an apprentice; my friend personally requested for a recommendation on my end, and I thought of you because you seem less narrow-minded than most of your fellow mates.” The parchment was naturally inclusive of Yvonne’s career, and how her speciality was poisons and other mixtures which couldn’t be labelled as necessarily pleasant potions; nonetheless, considering the Italian family’s reputation, it was to be expected.

“Have you ever heard of the Bertinellis?” Sylvester inquired, realising that their reputation might not have reached the British Isles, and he would have to further expand.

DJ almost instinctively corrected Professor Walker when the older man called him 'Damien,' but held off. In all likelihood he was going to have to start going by his given name and not a nickname if he expected to be taken seriously in any profession at all. Likewise he also almost instinctively said 'Professor' but realised in time that (1) Sylvester Walker was no longer his teacher, and (2) the man was still using a pseudonym. "I'm grateful it was a relatively straight shot from the Embassy," DJ replied with a sheepish smile as Professor Walker sat down across from him. "Neroli is a beautiful city but I'm sure I would have gotten lost otherwise."

The hostess herself returned to take an order from his former teacher, rather than a waitress, which was perhaps the norm in either Italy or in tea shops (DJ had not frequented either). Regardless, the two-line dialogue was in fluent Italian and he was clueless as to what was being gotten. As the woman was walking away, DJ unrolled the parchment that Professor Walker pushed to his side of the table. It described the woman that was seeking an apprentice, a certain Yvonne Bertinelli, who was a brilliant potions master, blah blah blah, some interesting tidbits about how her career develoepd, and that her area of expertise lay in.... poisons.

DJ sighed, but Professor Walker didn't hear it because over top of the sound the older man asked DJ if he had ever heard of the Bertinelli family before. The ex-Slytherin opened his mouth to answer... and promptly closed it again. He cocked his head to one side (using his tongue to move the mandrake leaf around to his other gum) and racked his brain. "Come to think of it, I don't believe I have," he said ponderingly, before lightly shaking his head and getting back to his first point of concern.

"Pr--- Mister Antonelli, before we go any further," he pressed. "I've become a deft hand at potions for sure - I guarantee I'd already test into Bronze Cauldron with the Potioneers Guild if I underwent it - but I'm not a poisons specialist or anything like that." He lowered his voice. "I've no idea if you are among those who still think I poisoned Linnet Willowsong, and frankly I don't give two shits about people's opinion on that anymore, but the fact is that I didn't do it and I don't have the skill to make a poison that turns someone into a damn tree. If this recommendation is based on that assumption, I worry we've both wasted each other's time."

He leaned back and resumed his normal voice, going on, "Barring that, I would say that yes, I'm quite open-minded. I can see the usefulness of poisons in certain situations and I'm aware that even governments call on their dispersal from time to time. I've been exposed to the dark undercurrents of Britain and the Eastern Bloc, I've been in situations of plenty and wanting, I've been on both sides of law enforcement and responsibilities, and I'm an innovative, think-outside-the-box kind of person. And I think you knew most of that going into this interview. You wouldn't have hand-picked me out of the other NEWT-level Potions students if you didn't." He pushed the parchment back toward Sylvester and folded his hands in his lap. "What else do I need to know about the Bertinellis?"