Magical Hogwarts

Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief, but his smile grew wider. All down to the fact that he hadn't accidentally approached someone who just looked like the girl he was meeting here and inadvertently made a fool of himself. It was somehow worse in the Three Broomsticks than in some random bar in Diagon Alley because of course, most people who worked here would recognise him as a Hogwarts professor. Probably him speaking to the wrong person would make no impression whatsoever upon them, but this didn't occur to Sam. He was just glad that they had managed to find each other.

He nodded at the news of Parthenia's journey. Sam loved to travel and for him no journey was a bad one - well, unless it involved splinching. His nose wrinkled a little at the thought, though he thought muggle transport was fun for the most part. During his travels he had tried out most things - though never an aeroplane. Being shut in something that flew by - well, he had no idea how the muggles managed to keep the thing in the sky - filled him with dread. Far safer to be out on a broomstick where you could at least use a cushioning charm to prevent a crash landing if something went wrong.

"Well I'm glad you got here safely" he said, sliding into the seat opposite and nodding his thanks as the mug of steaming hot chocolate arrived. Almost without thinking he cupped his hands around the drink, allowing the warmth to seep through into his skin. "And I'm fine, thanks" he grinned again "My journey here was pretty uneventful, too!" Hopefully her English - which was pleasantly accented but nonetheless perfectly understandable?á - would be up to the joke.

Now came the interesting part. What they wanted to discuss wasn't the sort of thing one generally talked about in public. Sam recalled a similar conversation some time earlier with his cousin Dash, but the difference there was they already knew each other well enough to have a kind of code to refer to certain things. That, and the fact that it had been warm enough to take a walk out of the village where there was no chance of being disturbed. Ah, well. He supposed if anyone was allowed to have odd conversations in here, it was the divination professor. At least half the wizarding population no doubt thought his subject was nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

He took a sip of the warm, sweet drink. "So, how have things been for you?" he asked, trying to keep things light for the moment. Meaning "Had any interesting visions lately you want to talk about?"

Parthenia had spent the better part of the past three days brushing up on her English. She had exchanged a few letters with the professor of Divinations (was that what it was called? She needed to check) at Hogwarts, and had spent the morning traveling by Ferry to London, apparating, taking a bus, and then apparating some more. Parthenia, though she did little the right way, was always willing to prevent splinching by using muggle methods of transportation. Going from France to Scotland was sure to leave her without an arm. She would much rather do this. Besides, she wasn't sure if France or England had barred international apparation, and she would always rather play it safe.

With a book and her crystal ball in her backpack, she made her way to Hogsmeade by foot from a nearby village. She was fairly certain that she couldn't apparate on Hogwarts grounds or the surrounding area, so once again, she was playing it safe. It was much colder up her than by her little beach house in France, but for once she had been intelligent enough to dress accordingly. In the process of wrapping Bodhi's oversized coat closer to her shoulders, she made her way into the village, smiling softly to herself when she saw the high peaked roofs, and in the distance she could just make out one of Hogwart's towers. How cool!

The last time Parthenia was even in this area was for the Victory Ball in her seventh year, the first (and last) time that she had seen Samuel, and she feared that she might not recognize him. Looking up at all of the buildings, she scanned them for a title looking like the one he had told her to meet her at. She did a fair bit of walking before her eyes landed on The Three Broomsticks, and she hurried inside in order to warm up.

Parthenia took a seat in a booth as far from the door as possible, her teeth chattering and the coat pulled as close to her as possible. She wondered, as she waited for a butterbeer to come her way from the bar, how the Hogwarts children could live like this. Winters at Beauxbatons got cold, but she didn't think it was ever quite this cold, and it wasn't even December yet. She settled into the booth, smiling as the bartender came over to retrieve her sickles for the warm, frothy liquid, and in her first few gulps, she downed nearly half, using it as a crutch in order to warm up.

Scanning the room quickly turned out to be fruitless in search of Samuel Dickinson. She wasn't sure of the time, but perhaps she was either extremely early or extremely late. If the former, she could sit here in this warm building to hide from the cold outside, the cold that plagued this entire island. If the latter, she was sure to be extremely upset. There were so many things that she wanted to ask him! Glancing over at the grandfather clock by the door, she found that she was, in fact, perfectly on time, a few minutes early even. She smiled to herself and allowed herself to relax a bit, pulling the backpack from her shoulders and shaking off the coat, placing both on the booth beside her.

There was no use denying the fact that Sam felt a little nervous this afternoon. Once upon a time the prospect of meeting a young woman in a bar would have made him jittery for a whole heap of different reasons, but now he was happy with Iuliana those days seemed behind him. So he was surprised to find himself checking that his robes were perfectly straight before heading out to Hogsmeade. It wasn't even as if he was meeting a stranger - well, not a complete stranger - he had met Parthenia Stremmos more than a year earlier at the Victory Ball following the end of You-know-who's reign. But after that first meeting, things had gone rather awry.

They had intended to keep in touch, which wasn't surprising considering they shared the same ability, but after the ball Sam had become ill with the mysterious disease that had struck down so many on that night, and it had been months before he'd even read Parthenia's first letter, let alone felt up to replying. Maybe that was why this felt awkward. Sam felt he owed the young woman for neglecting her following their first meeting, though none of it had been his own fault. He was also worried that he might not recognise her, given that they'd only met once and that had been with hundreds of other people around.

He was determined not to show how he was feeling, though. Pulling on his warmest cloak (Sam, like his lizards, hated the cold) he walked as quickly as possible down to Hogsmeade, wishing, not for the first time that the climate here was a few degrees warmer. Not even December yet and it was already freezing! He was glad when the Three Broomsticks came into sight and was already wondering whether he should forsake a glass of butterbeer in favour of a mug of hot chocolate. It was almost cold enough to think about wearing something under his robes...

The warmth inside the pub enveloped him like a hug from a favourite aunt as he opened the door and stepped inside, and for a moment he did nothing but stand there and relish the warmth. Only then did he glance around, a little nervously at first, hoping he would recognise the young woman and not have to wait until she came up and spoke first...assuming she was already there, of course. His eyes travelled across the few people already in the pub, then returned to a figure sitting in one of the booths. Wasn't that..? But what if he was wrong? What if he approached someone who wasn't Parthenia and then she walked in while he was talking to the wrong person? That would be horribly embarrassing. But...there were no other young women sitting alone, and a quick glance at the clock told him he was a minute or two late, so it had to be her, right?

He made a decision. Crossed to the bar, then turned and smiled in the young woman's direction before turning quickly away and ordering his hot chocolate. Then he took a deep breath and went over to the booth. "Parthenia. Glad to see you got here safely. How are you?" Nice and neutral. Just in case he was talking to the wrong person...

When the door opened and a man walked in, Parthenia was endlessly relieved to have recognized the man standing there warming himself up. Not only was she happy that now that she'd seen him, she remembered a slightly crooked nose and head of blonde hair. She stayed seated in order to give him the benefit of the doubt of remembering her as well. Maybe her white-blonde could give her away. After all, she sort of stuck out like a sore thumb in most places. He looked very cold, which was slightly relieving to Parthenia. She was glad that she wasn't the only person freezing to death in this weather. She was glad that people who lived here weren't immune to the bitter cold chill in the air either.

She watched him as he made his way over to her with a broad smile, which was slightly uncharacteristic of her nowadays. Now was a time to shut off her poor attitude and be open to new people, new ideas, and new friends. Samuel could be an asset in Parthenia's life, he could help her open up her mind to the other side, and she needed him to like her. Scowls and frowns which were typical in situations similar to this one (where a man she hardly knew was walking towards her), would not do here. Not even a bit.

"Hello!" She said, her eyes bright. She was so eager to learn from him that she felt like a completely different person. She was much less dark than when she was alone. "I'm well, thanks." Her English was still a struggle, so she was afraid that she was going to have to have him help her with it a fair bit if she couldn't find the word. She was sure he'd understand. After all, it had been years since she'd lived in the UK, and now that she was living in France again, it was tough to move from one learned language to another in a few short hours. "And travel was less than fun, as usual." She admitted, hoping he wouldn't think she was complaining. "I use muggle transportation for long distances so I don't get splinched, so you can imagine." 'Wow, a full sentence' She thought. Maybe the English was going to come better and easier to her than it had the last time she was in the United Kingdom.

"I hope you're doing well also, please sit!" She gestured to the seat across from her, hoping he would sit down and they could begin discussing what she'd come here for, in hushed voices and code no doubt.

It was funny that she was willing to come this far just to talk about these things because honestly, in the grand scheme of things, her seer abilities seemed like a small matter compared to her own everyday happiness. Truthfully, she could live without the "blessing" of seeing what might or might-not-be the near or not-so-near future. She was so unsure about it, and she really did have a lot of questions for him. In reality, she had no one else to turn to regarding her questions, so maybe she should start from square one. The vision about the boy in Diagon Alley. He didn't know about that, did he?

Settling into her seat a little bit by wiggling on the bench, she took a sip of her butterbeer, cherishing the feeling of warmth that washed over her chilly extremities. With a little smile, she looked down at the table, wondering where she might start. The questions she had were plentiful and wide ranging, but right now all she could think about was the dying boy. How possible was it that a vision could be conditional, could only be seen through her eyes, could be changed? Thank Merlin that he was who he was, and that she had found out about him. If she had to think on these things another day, she might explode.

She breathed a laugh at his joke, smiling across the table. "Oh yes. Horrible, I'm sure." She joked and took another sip of her butterbeer. Though dry sarcasm was usually her choice in humor, but she couldn't be dry or rude with Samuel. She liked him, and she needed him to like her back. As long as they could come to some sort of mutual respect, Parthenia would be very happy. He had a wealth of knowledge that she needed on her side.

With an exasperated sigh, she sat upright and away from her butterbeer. She laughed again, this time at the severity that fell over her features. She didn't mean to be so somber.

"Where do I begin?" She said, her Greek accent thick. She wondered if this was okay to talk about openly, but figured that it was her own privacy at stake. Everyone had to know that Samuel was a seer, since he was the professor of the course that governed the art of devine gifts such as Seers. The inner eye. Parthenia might give her gift back if given the chance.

"I had," She searched for the word, pausing. "A vision." Shrugging, she looked away from the glass, almost ashamed of it, or burdened by it in a sense. She shook her head, a frown finding it's way to her mouth. "I'm not sure where to begin. It was... very bad... I think I saw someone dying." She looked down at her lap and then back up at Samuel, waiting for him to respond before she layed the rest of her burden on his shoulders. Perhaps he had some words of wisdom that would encourage her to feel better about what she'd seen. Maybe it could've been conditional in some way, and through the course of events changing, wouldn't happen at all. She hoped so. She felt, though, that her vision was connected to fate, and that she wanted to help the man she'd seen. Maybe Samuel could help her figure all of that out.

So that was the reason for her visit. Somewhere at the back of his mind Sam had known that it wasn't just for a general chat about having visions and their impact on one's life. Now that the war was long since over and they could be reasonably sure that owls weren't being intercepted, it was the sort of thing that could be discussed in a series of letters. He almost smiled at his own thoughts, because they would have been thought ridiculous in the extreme had anyone else been able to look inside his mind. How would they have described it? That he'd had a premonition that they would be discussing visions of the future? Well, it wasn't exactly like that, but he could see the irony all the same.

The Seer tried to keep his face impassive, but he didn't succeed. Death was just about the worst thing to experience in a vision, and for someone who was still coming to terms with her talents and learning about them, it would be...frightening, there was no other word for it. Sam counted himself fortunate that his visions up until six or seven years ago had been relatively innocuous. True, he had Seen suffering, and sadness, and pain, but nothing on a scale that had left him afraid and desperate to prevent it.

And suddenly he thought he knew why Parthenia was here, and why she couldn't write any of this in a letter. Because she wanted to tell him face to face and see his reaction as well as hear his words.

"I see...wow." he said, a little inadequately, but wanting to express something while he gathered his thoughts and made certain that whatever he said next was the right thing. After a few years at Hogwarts Sam considered himself a reasonably experienced teacher now, but this felt more nerve-wracking than his first ever lesson. He took a drink of his hot chocolate, more to buy a little time than because he felt like it right now, and tried to think what to say.

"Can you tell me what you Saw? If there were any details that might..." he paused thoughtfully. the professor had been about to ask if there were any details that could help them to tell where the vision had taken place and how far in advance it had been, but maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself. After all, he had experience of something similar, though Parthenia knew nothing about that. It was time she did. "During the wizarding war, I had a lot of visions, and some of them were...bad" he began to explain, the words feeling inadequate to describe the horror he'd lived through. "One was particularly vivid. I Saw a woman being...being tortured by a Death Eater, and..." he'd lowered his voice, but even so was finding it difficult to talk about. He looked down at the table, and continued "I tried to find her. I tried to remember every little detail of the vision so I could tell the location, the time of year, anything that would help narrow it down."

He forced himself to look up again. "So I guess...what would you feel most comfortable doing about this? Trying to put it out of your mind, or...thinking about it all over again?"