Snippet #2698714

Mikhail Vasiliev had been up for several hours before departing for the Ministry. His early rise was not an effort to ready himself for his future career, but rather a chance to watch what had been his previous career. Specifically, he had risen early to catch the game between his old team, the Tutshill Tornados, and a rival Italian team. Given the slight time differences between the countries, Misha had one of two options. The first, being waking early and seeing the game live, or indulging in more sleep and then being forced to watch the highlights at the end of the day. Clearly, the first option won out. Misha was already an energetic soul, but stick him in an office when there's a game he's dying to watch and you'd get no work out of him.

Of course, there were downsides to watching the match. The largest being the maddening urge the young wizard had to jump on a broom and fly. And then his hand would twinge, reminding Misha of why he had been forced to leave Puddlemere United and instead agreed to take the Ministry job. The Healers had done their best, and told him that only time would tell whether those wounds would fully heal. Until then, Misha had to tortuously watch quidditch, where once he had played amongst the best.

Watching was hard, especially when the game was as close as this. But, at least there was still the thrill of the game, and the atmosphere. Mikhail lived for that atmosphere, which was why a job at the Ministry had been far from his mind when he'd left school. As the game ended and Misha began to gather the items he'd need for the day, he found himself wondering just what his new job would entail. He would be working at the quidditch headquarters, which to his mind was the best part of the ministry. So long as he wasn't filing papers all day, he was sure he could handle it.

That being said, organisation had never been Misha's strong suit. His apartment was only moderately tidy, thanks more to a few spells his mother constantly reminded him to cast, than to Misha's cleaning routine. As he searched through a few old bags, he found items he hadn't realised he'd lost. A broom shining kit, some old posters of himself smiling and waving at the crowd, an old book from his school days... but what he couldn't find was some parchment. With a sigh of irritation and a Russian expletive, Misha decided to forego the parchment. Surely the Ministry had enough anyway, and beside, he really wasn't the note taking type.

With that settled, Misha smoothed his robes down - a lovely, dark blue set with silver accents that he had been told brought out his eyes - made sure his wand was in his pocket, and then turned on the spot and disappeared. He reappeared seconds later in a small alley opposite the Ministry of Magic. With a confident smile the wizard took off, his feet carrying him out of the alley and right into a passing muggle. The muggle, a balding old man with the most hideous brown shoes Misha had ever seen, staggered back, only managing to keep his feet thanks to a steadying hand from Misha. The muggle opened his mouth, as if to say 'thank you', before his eyes widened and his lips pursed shut in distaste. Misha fought back a laugh as the muggle muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, 'Odd loon' before shuffling off. Misha supposed his lovely robes did look slightly out of place to passing muggles.

Misha shook his head, an amused expression on his face as he entered what appeared - to muggles - to be a down on its luck public bathroom. He stepped into a free stall, up into the toilet bowl, and without hesitation pulled the chain to flush the toilet. A moment later he was within the Ministry, shaking off water from the ends of his robe as he took a few watery steps. His wand was in his hand moments later, though Misha had to pause and think for a moment before the appropriate spell came to mind.

Once dry, the wizard made his way to the Atrium, where his stomach immediately let him know that there was food on offer. Attempting to stop himself from salivating over the floor, Misha made a beeline for the food. He eyed the plate of another wizard, who had piled his full with food. That was surely the way to do things, and Misha was going to follow his example.

"This looks delicious." Misha said aloud, turning a grin on the yellow-robed wizard before his attention slipped back to the food available. While his plate didn't end up being quite as full as the other man's, there was definitely enough food to get Misha through the day. With a nod to the yellow-robed wizard, Misha took his plate and found a seat beside a witch he vaguely recognised from Hogwarts. Had she been the year above him? And in Ravenclaw? No, Slytherin. He'd only spent two years at Hogwarts, and the majority of that had been on the quidditch pitch.

As he sat, the witch in question turned her head, her eyes traveling from the food on Misha's plate, to his face. Recognition sparked in her eyes, which wasn't entirely foreign to the ex-quidditch player. Most quidditch fans recognised his face, or at least Puddlemere United fans did.

"Hi there, aren't you that quidditch player?" The witch asked, a curious smile decorating her face as she lounged in the chair, making the white seat look as comfortable as if she were on a reclining couch.

"One of them." Misha replied with a friendly grin in return, before continuing, "I'm Mikhail Vasiliev."

"Cybele Valenta." She replied with a stunning smile, which seemed to grow the longer her eyes lingered on his face, "Pleased to meet you." Unbeknown to Misha, Cybele had just decided that working for the Ministry definitely wouldn't be as bad as she had thought.