The children were unloaded, the speeches had been made, the dances had been danced and other things had been done. After the dances Auberon was beginning to let it blur, and was perfectly content to take a break until the evening feast.

His robes were carefully chosen; luxurious but clearly functional and in the bright red of Durmstrang's elite. His decorated silver staff clanked on the floorboards of the tavern...he supposed it was supposed to be charming, but the term dirty sprung to mind. Given the surroundings, looked quite out of place. This worked to his advantage, however; with a roll of his shoulders to puff his chest out, his red and gold attire made him a bright and powerful shape in the midst of the misty browns and golds and the milling multicolored crowd.

"BARKEEP!" he said, his naturally booming voice loud above the wall of noise from the other drinkers. "Beer," he said, in the drop in volume that followed. "And ham!"

With that he found himself a table in the midst of the ruckus, watching the students and townsfolk mingle with interest. His eyes shot to flashes of red and blue in the crowd - Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, and the exchange did not look particularly friendly. As much as he might approve, there was such a thing as decorum; which displays were usually for the back alleys.

"Gentlemen," he said, thudding the end of his staff on the floor, his tone a simple warning. Hist stomach growled and he looked back to the bar, frowning. "BARKEEP!" He boomed again.

It had been a very eventful and long day for Herschel Reid. His appointment to headmaster had come as a surprise to many who had not expected Snark to be given up on so quickly- but things had to be done, and life must go on for Hogwarts and for the wizard world. The arrival of the foreign students had been a pleasant sight, and he had been pleased at their level of skill and the impeccable manners which had been on display most of the day thus far.

After speaking with many parents about the upcoming tournament, assuring them that all was safe and would go smoothly, he had decided to duck into the Three Broomsticks for a quick glass of firewhiskey and perhaps a light meal before the night was out.

He paused at the bar to order his drink, and was distracted by the loud, booming voice of the Durmstrang headmaster. He watched as the man found himself a table, sat down, and yelled again for the barkeep. Herschel nodded politely to the woman behind the bar who handed him the bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses, and he then carefully maneuvered through the students and adults in the building and sat himself down with Auberon Eisenberg.

"Good evening," he greeted calmly, pouring himself some of the whiskey. He set the bottle on the table, and motioned for Eisenberg to help himself. Herschel busied himself with taking a long drink of the amber liquid, and glancing around at the crowd. He spotted one of the workers coming toward their table, and was glad for it. He wanted to have a pleasant conversation, and perhaps learn a little about Durmstrang from their headmaster, and had an inclination that if he was distracted by yelling for the barkeep that would not happen.

"Headmaster Reid," Auberon greeted reasonably, smiling at the offered drink and pouring himself a quite healthy amount. He wasn't a boozer in the classic sense, but Auberon had no issue putting back alcohol of almost any kind. He found the skill rather convenient around colleagues who lacked it.

"I understand belated congratulations are in order," he said, raising his glass slightly before he drank, draining much of it in a few gulps. "Albeit respectful ones, considering the circumstances." Snark having gotten herself offed was rather inconvenient. Auberon had done his research on her; he'd had a few angles of attack in mind, thought he could safely predict some of her decisions and moved. Reid was, largely, an unknown. He hadn't been hard to find information on - seemed a reasonable fellow, invested in children and their education. Respectable.

Of course, a brand new leader had advantages, of course. Reid didn't know his troops. Some of the teachers had left, yet to be replaced. Hogwarts was off balance. Vulnerable.

He nodded curtly to the waitress. "Danke schön," he said, before he looked back to Reid and extended a large hand; when Reid returned the gesture, Auberon's handshake was honest, firm and slightly hand-crushing. "Do call me Auberon, Master Reid," he said. "This will be a long year if we have to use everyone's titles constantly!"

Gerard was getting acquainted with the village that would serve as home for the rest of the year. For having the bustle of Great Britain's magical school at the other end of the lake, along with the excitement of the gathering Tournament, it had the look of a quiet town. Not that this year would be an example, most likely.

The Three Broomsticks was indeed the local inn and pub. Gerard was unsure at first but he knew avoiding the problem would only make it worse. It seemed to be a lively joint, unlike the hovels he had visited on travels before. Butterbeer was the local favorite, although Gerard wasn't interested in anything with strong flavor.

"Just a Gillywater," he asked of the barman. He was handed a glass with a bitter, earthy relish to the water.

The most distinctive occupants in the crowd where the Durmstrang Headmaster and Governor Reid. Although now titled as Headmaster Reid, although whether as an interim head or continuing head it was unsure. Very confusing circumstances right before the Tournament began. Gerard knew that the missing headmistress was the sister of Aurelia Snark, who had gone to the academy after Gerard had graduated.

"Gentlemen," Gerard greeted, still standing.

So it began. As promised, Ignan had returned to Hogwarts early, and had quickly made himself at home in the familiar chambers that were set aside for him. This year, he had brought with him anything he had salvaged from Durmstrang and not brought previously, including several books lifted from his senile father, a former Headmaster. Thankfully Merik was almost past being able to care, though Ignan anticipated in his more lucid moments he might raise quill to parchment for one of his cutting letters. Lucid moments were more fleeting, age did that to some, even wizards.

Studies were of less use presently when the peacocks were in town fluttering feathers and displaying to each other, measuring up. Hogsmeade was busy, busier than Ignan ever enjoyed it, but there was plenty to watch and hear, if he took it with a pinch of salt.

Sadly, he'd been delayed to the 3 Broomsticks by an unexpected visit by Johann who had met him just outside the castle gates. Wolfgang, Johann's father, was making a nuisance of himself already, and sleep-deprived Johann had required a soul who would entirely understand the situation to confide in. Ignan was subtly encouraging these confidential discussions. He had not been successful in convincing Johann to come to visit over summer, and despite his moral issues, he was fully intending to use legilmency to probe his young cousin's mind regularly - partly out of concern for his wellbeing, and partly because Johann was employed by the one of the Ministry departments charged with running the tournament.

The peacocks were already beginning their display as he paused to let drinkers out of the pub before entering. Auberon and Herschel were sat at the table, and one of the Beauxbatons contingent was approaching with gillywater in hand, presumably looking to seek an audience. Ignan surveyed the rest of the room, and made the decision to take a route to the bar close enough to the table that he would overhear, and also potentially be spotted.

"Do call me Auberon, Master Reid, this will be a long year if we have to use everyone's titles constantly!"
"Gentlemen"

Ignan's gaze was intent, Reid faced his direction, Auberon faced Reid, and he took the moment to drop his jibe to his former employer.
"Why so informal, Master Eisenberg, or are you fully embracing friends close and enemies closer with your host?" His tone was smooth, with an edge of sarcasm. He trod a fine line between being rude to his previous employer before his newly appointed employer, which showed no grace, and being a doormat to both of them.
"Good evening." He inclined to the Beauxbaton stranger, "Headmaster." To Herschel.

"Thank you, Auberon. It is a prestigious position. The circumstances are to my distaste, but I hope to do my job well and with enough skill that many forget the circumstances soon enough." Not that Herschel wanted anyone to forget about finding the headmistress, but it was always hard to trust someone appointed to such a position in a time of dire need. It was not a decision which had been made lightly, even so, it was an inopportune time to take over the reigns of Hogwarts.

"Likewise- please feel free to call me Herschel," he said. Auberon was correct, it would be a long year. Even so, he wanted to show respect where respect was due. Auberon Eisenberg was an older wizard, very accomplished, quite skilled and experienced in his current post as Headmaster of Durmstrang.

Herschel was about to address Auberon again when they were greated by another man. Herschell nodded in his direction. "Please, have a seat. Feel free to join us." It was going just as he imagined. Now all they needed was someone from Salem to fill out the circle and it would be a great amalgam of knowledge and experience from all over the world.

"Professor Storm!" Herschel greeted with enthusiasm, ignoring the man's comments to Eisenberg. "What a pleasant surprise to see you out and about. I've yet to see most of the staff today. It has been quite busy, giving speeches and talking to parents. Their concerns are never ending, I'm afraid. Join us, join us!" he motioned to the free chair at the table. "Feel free to help yourselves, gentlemen," he said to Gerard and Ignan, motioning to the firewhiskey he'd brought to the table.

He took another draw from his own glass, looking at each of the men at the table. "I do look forward to the year ahead. I have heard grand stories about Durmstrang," he said to Auberon. "I do hope there is some truth to most of it. Professor Storm certainly seems to live up to the standards that I've always suspected of Durmstrang." Though he wouldn't announce it to the table, he thought poisoning students was probably a regular practice at Durmstrang. At least Storm had done it in an attempt to teach them something.

"How was the trip?" he asid, to both Gerard and Eisenberg. "All went well, I presume?"

Suddenly, it seemed, their table was a popular stop in this sea of people. Auberon kept his polite and reverent smile, even when Storm appeared. What an interesting coincidence, that. Storm's comments indicated that Storm still hadn't gotten over being fired. As far as Auberon was concerned, there wasn't much to get over. Still, it seemed Ignan could be useful after all, perhaps...

"Naturally," he said, simply, "I seek healthy competition, Mister Storm." He sipped from his glass, letting that vague statement hang as the others settled themselves at the small table. He looked between all of them thoughtfully.

"The trip was as expected," he said. "That is, long and uneventful. The students are quite happy to be here, let me assure you, though this mild-" he pounced the word with only the barest hint of disapproval, "-weather is going to take some getting used to. I've been told not to expect snow 'til December!"Auberon's laugh was sudden and booming, a single great "Ha!" that made some heads turn. "Good for the Herbology courses, I suppose!"

He looked to Gerard suddenly, a broad and cheerful smile upon his face. "But you, sir, appear to be the unknown at this table! Come! Introduce yourself and join in a bit of good-natured bragging!"

"Thank you," said Gerard, sitting. He eyed the Firewhiskey offered for the briefest of moments. Powerful stuff, and he wasn't sure his Gillywater was enough to dilute it. He kept to sipping the pungent beverage.

His keen observation skills detected the tension between Storm and Eisenburg, a story there. It seemed Hogwarts did not only have recent changes to staff, but those changes included professors formerly employed from the very schools gathered together for this event.

"The trip was well, although one of the Abraxans tired and that may have been why we were the last to arrive. Madam Bisclavret did not appear to mind." The last time Beauxbatons competed in the Tournament, under Madam Maxime, the carriage had been the first to arrive.

"But you, sir, appear to be the unknown at this table!" said the boisterous Durmstrang Headmaster. "Come! Introduce yourself and join in a bit of good-natured bragging!"

Gerard smiled humbly. He began an introduction, fingers arched over his glass of Gillywater. "My name is Gerard Gries and I am currently the Head Academic Advisor at Beauxbatons." While there were two others that each handled one side of the collège and the lycée, he still made the effort to assist every student. The remainder at Beauxbatons would be well guided this year. "But before that I spent many years researching into Magic and the Mind for the French Magical Government. I believe your government," an indication to Herschel, "has a Research and Development sector called the Department of Mysteries? It was similar work. Many papers were published, some crossing international borders." That was putting it concisely. Within the heralded work Gerard had built up during his years of research there was the most widely accepted theory of the unification of animal and human mindsets in animagi, extensive detail into the full uses of a Pensieve and a perfected Draught of the Living Death with effects akin to the Dreamless Sleep Spell and a simple antidote all for healing purposes, to name a few.

"If you gentlemen are interested, I believe I still have some of the original journals. You're welcome to peruse."

"Professor Storm!" The new Hogwarts headmaster was glad to see his colleague. "What a pleasant surprise to see you out and about. I've yet to see most of the staff today. It has been quite busy, giving speeches and talking to parents. Their concerns are never ending, I'm afraid. Join us, join us!"

Much as Ignan appreciated his hospitality, he was more preoccupied with the answer of his former employer,
"Naturally, I seek healthy competition, Mister Storm." came the response, unwavering as ever. Ignan would have to admit he admired Auberon's intellect and stamina...

"I do look forward to the year ahead. I have heard grand stories about Durmstrang, I do hope there is some truth to most of it. Professor Storm certainly seems to live up to the standards that I've always suspected of Durmstrang." The smug smile that grew on Ignan's face was not smothered but worn with great satisfaction in Auberon's direction as Ignan uttered polite thanks for the compliment.

"How was the trip? All went well, I presume?" Reid queried, as Ignan helped himself to a modest volume of the whiskey, glad that his new headmaster also valued the tipple, and by a glance at the label, a good year too. The Durmstrang headmaster continued to explain about the trip and the late arrival of snow. Personally Ignan preferred the milder weather, albeit damper than other places on the rainy little island. Their other companion, from Beauxbatons mentioned their abraxan horses had tired leaving them to arrive last.

Swiftly he was encouraged to introduce himself to the three older wizards, and Ignan's eyes slid from Auberon finally to the other man who had arrived at the table at about the same time.

"My name is Gerard Gries and I am currently the Head Academic Advisor at Beauxbatons. But before that I spent many years researching into Magic and the Mind for the French Magical Government. I believe your government, has a Research and Development sector called the Department of Mysteries? It was similar work. Many papers were published, some crossing international borders." Interesting, how a man so steeped in a Ministry's research position could come to teach, then again, Analiza Snark had done the same, and had not Landis. Ignan had always assumed them too bookish - then again, Landis did spend his time with books still.
"If you gentlemen are interested, I believe I still have some of the original journals. You're welcome to peruse."

"What fields would they cover?" Ignan asked, his firewhiskey glass between his fingers, and his elbows rested on the table. His jacket hung over the back of the chair, shirt and waistcoat were warm enough in the August evening and inside the pub, even if it was Northerly.

"I teach defensive magic at Hogwarts. When the requirements of the Ministry and examination board of this country are satisfied, I always seek entirely relevant and challenging extensions to the curriculum." The statement was both intended to sound impressive (although true) but also polite and interested towards their newest acquaintance. He glanced to Auberon,
"Something Hogwarts has benefitted from Durmstrang, indeed, Sir." His gaze and shoulders turned back to the Beauxbatons professor.

"Do you specialise in the teaching of any particular skills as 'Academic Advisor', Gerard?"

Herschel supposed the weather must be mild in comparison. "It sometimes snows earlier. The weather patterns change every year, it seems." It was a shame there weren't seers more specialized in the area of weather. "Yes, quite excellent for Herbology. The students get to see quite an array of plants due to the weather. Of course, the correct wand work can make any plant grow if it is simply a matter of temperature and climate."

Academic Advisor? Herschel blinked at the man for a moment. He wondered what exactly that position would entail. It was not hard to take the time to guide your students in the right path as a professor, head of house, or even as headmaster- that a single man was responsible for all students, when he could barely know them personally, was odd. Even so, Beauxbatons had a different way of doing things. Of course, so did the other schools.

"Ah, yes. The Department of Mysteries is a wonderful place. I worked there in my youth. Spell creation and things of that nature. It has always been my wand which served me best. Even so, top secret stuff what they do there. I'm afraid there are many things I will never be able to disclose from my days in the laboratories of level nine. So I cannot extend the same gracious offer."

"Seems a large leap, however, to go from there to an academic advisor. I always had an interest in education and it had always been a hobby of mine, even while employed with the ministry. How did you find yourself at Beauxbatons, Mr. Gries?"

Herschel smiled lightly at the comment that Storm made about challenging extensions to the curriculum. "As well you should, Mr. Storm. A mind that goes unchallenged will never flourish. Though it is important to keep an eye on those less magically inclined, if you do not challenge those with excellent skill they tend to squander their potential in their boredom."

Gerard sensed the questions being directed at him were ones of curiosity and bewilderment. As if the other gentlemen were not sure to be impressed or not. Gerard was not worried about that, after all he was sitting with headmasters and professors, men with their own prestigious titles and in-depth knowledge of their subjects, no less.

"Education at Beauxbatons is divided by age," Gerard explained. "There is a collège and a lycée. Younger students and older students. Each school is overseen by an advisor, and then overseen by me. They will be remaining at Beauxbatons while I am at work here. We value excellence at Beauxbatons and work to ensure that each student is ready for the workforce when they graduate."

"Any topic you could think of," he addressed Professor Storm, "when it comes to the magical Mind. Spells, potions, memories, divination..." Another sip of water. "As for specific skills, I have coached boxing, although that is more for recreation. If you are interested in expanding defense, there is Occlumency. I also introduce it to the older students. Do you here?"

Then of course the question, as it always came up to those that paid attention to his summarized history. "Your war with Voldemort," he used the French pronunciation, a silent 't' "before the millennium was not felt all the way in France. But some of us did feel it. There was family I needed to protect." A pause. "In the aftermath things were no longer certain. In 2001 there was an opening in the academy's staff and I took it."

He finished his Gillywater. The jovial banter of Mssrs Reid and Storm explained something, although Gerard could not completely formulate his reasoning. Hogwarts seemed to be slightly hands off, when compared to Beauxbatons, about the focus of its pupils. He would not be sure about this hypothesis until the term began.

Auberon grunted, his own decision on Gries finding itself at unimpressed. It was far better, in Auberon's mind, to do few things and do them brilliantly than to study so many things one had no time to truly master any, and if Gerard's list was any indication he was firmly in the second category. And, even after the explanation, the Academic Advisor made little sense to him. His own professors and himself did that well enough on their own; but if Beauxbatons wanted to add three more people on their payroll, he wasn't going to stop them. Perhaps the Beauxbatons professors were simply too lazy to take on extra duties and they had to pass the buck.

Hm. From the few Beauxbatons wizards he'd worked with over the decades, that likely summed it up. The French never liked to work, the lazy bastards. Unlike his proper Durmstrang fellows, who took on extra work for the sheer challenge! Hrumph!

Offensive racist stereotypes (and chest-thumping pride) thankfully confined to his thoughts, he drank deeply from his beer, his eyes scanning the other three silently. "Fascinating," he told Gries. "I'm sure the students learn much from you." He glanced at Reid and Storm, lips curling into a slight smile.

"Well said, Master Reid," he said, with a thud as he set his beer back down. "Do tell us, Mister Storm...how do you intend to keep up with the varying students this year? I'm sure you'll find many of them a bit behind your mark...?" The sneer wasn't in his tone or on his face, but it was there, a find aura between the two men.

"Do tell us, Mister Storm...how do you intend to keep up with the varying students this year? I'm sure you'll find many of them a bit behind your mark...?"

"Behind the Hogwarts mark, you mean, Auberon." Ignan replied, knowing that Auberon meant the high standards of Durmstrang instead. Or perhaps he was verging on acknowledging his former employee had brought the high standards of Durmstrang to Hogwarts?

"I am sure it is nothing that cannot be overcome with hard work and determination. If the students are indeed the pick of the crop they will be able to catch up." He smirked and added, "I have read the information sent over by your respective schools to ensure I cover any additional material required, within reason." Ignan added, glancing to Headmaster Reid. Some of Durmstrang's curriculum would not be entirely suitable for the Hogwarts ethos.

"Is there anything in particular you men plan on seeing in Britain during your stay? Will you sample the sights and the culture outside of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade?"

Gerard spoke up again when the question arose of what might they do outside of the Tournament. "If I have the time available I will take in your sights, revisit some places. I've traveled a few areas in Britain before, it would be nice to see what is different."

One location he hadn't confirmed was whether or not he would return to the spot where he had buried Gwendolyn, Dorothy, and her family. It was far from the cottage where they had been attacked, a simple memorial he'd made with magic. He was too new in the UK, however. Once he fell into line with the routine of education he might be comfortable enough to visit during break.

Herschel smiled at Auberon, glad that the man seemed friendly enough. He had expected a far more stoic head- someone much more like Storm, who quickly countered Auberon's comment in defense of Hogwarts. There was a subtle power play between the two that Herschel did not care for, and the French man's short response made Herschel wonder if perhaps a group of old men drinking together might be boring to a younger educator.

He glanced down at his watch and frowned, realizing how late the hour was dragging out. "I do hate to cut this marvelous exchange short, gentlemen, but time has gotten away from me. I have many things to attend to before the month is out."

Herschel stood up, and smiled at all three. "I very much look forward to getting know all of you better. Auberon, we shall have to make time for a drink when I am not pressed for time and needed in more than one place at a time. I've a meeting with the governors on the arrival of our guests, and a few owls to attend to from various parents and publications." He placed his hat on his head, and nodded to Ignan and Gerard. "Gentlemen."

He picked up his glass from the table, drained it quickly, and strode away from the table. Let Auberon and Ignan have their battle on their own time. If the Frenchman was smart, he would abandon ship before it got out of hand. Herschel had heard about how quickly arguments between Durmstrang graduates could get out of hand, and Ignan seemed a man with a temper that should not be tested. He would have to ask Storm later on how the meeting ended.