At the beginning there is a house. This is not a large but cramped house, occupied by a large family, struggling for every meal, nor a nice, clean house, its floorboards positively sagging under the burden of being as normal as possible. Although it didn't quite qualify as a magnificent mansion, it certainly came close. Looking at the house, one would have speculated that someone very rich lived in that house, and upon approach would have speculated further that someone very lazy who was also very rich lived in that house. The first assumption was correct. The second was very close to being correct.
Inside this house were several, as may be expected, rooms. The largest of these occupied
the entire third floor, and it was the library. Bookshelves lined the walls, and the books that didn't
fit on those were stacked, often precariously, in random locations around the room. Many of these
books hadn't been touched in generations and should have crumbled to dust long ago, but the
owners of this house had always liked their books, and so most were in remarkably good shape.
Stuffed into a corner both furthest away from the windows and the stairs, a significant trek across
creaky wood and not for those who had ever been afraid of a floor falling out from under them,
was a small gap in between two of the newer, nicer, bookshelves. In the gap was probably a desk.
It was difficult to be sure, because whatever it was covered with mountains of opened books,
papers, and soda cans. At the peak of the mountain, on top of an old, dusty copy of Alice's
Incantations lay, rather conspicuously, an open letter, complete with the three precise folds that
marked how someone very neat had mailed it. The letter was marked with a peculiar multicolored
seal, complete with some clever, inspirational phrase in Latin and four animals that looked to be a
lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake. Clean, almost automatic script decorated the white
background with precise words:
Mr. Marcus Aurelius Butler,
We have received your previous owl informing us of your willingness to take over the open post of Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. We have, however, already located a professor to fulfill those duties. However, the changing political climate in our area will make necessary the absences of several teachers at various points during the year. As such, we would welcome you joining us to substitute during those periods in which our current teachers are unavailable to teach during their periods. Standard teaching wages and benefits will be provided, as well as a permanent intercontinental Floo connection to your home in Washington.
Unfortunately, teaching at Hogwarts requires certain unusual measures to be adopted. I will be arriving with Professor Flitwick upon receipt of your confirmation owl to lay certain protection charms upon your home and yourself. We have enclosed a list of prohibited substances that make one more susceptible to detection and remote harm.
Thank you for your interest and for the quality teaching that you will provide in the
upcoming year.
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Two floors below, the writer and receiver of this letter sat at opposite ends of a square table talking.
Minerva, Marcus reflected, didn't seem to ever let that severe expression go away. He
preferred smiling himself, but it seemed that Minerva really was the stereotypical severe
schoolteacher. Marcus resolved immediately to break Minerva's shell by the end of the year. But
for now, he'd have to deal with some more practical issues. "Where is this Professor Flitwick,
anyway?"
"He's been held up." Marcus doubted that she really had to be this cryptic.
"Miss McGonagall, I have the highest level of security clearance in the Wizardry Office.
Believe me, I know all about your order." Minerva opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "I can
understand if you don't want to send details of the organization through the Owl Post, especially
the intercontinental one, but if you were going to try hiring me to work as a teacher at Hogwarts
while keeping me in the dark about the Order of the Phoenix and your role in it, I am afraid you
have gotten the wrong idea."
"Mister Butler." Minerva paused as she stood. "You will kindly remember that the post you have agreed to work in places you directly subordinate to myself, and that not only are you not the only person who would be willing to take on your position, your position isn't actually necessary."
Marcus backtracked hurriedly, wondering why he'd tried that on a woman who was to severity as a pumpkin was to orange. "Ah...I apologize, of course. What I meant was that I am, as I hope everyone on your staff is, a person with certain scruples. One of my own is that I don't work with people I don't trust." He paused, and when Minerva's only reaction was a look of appraisal - at least, he thought it was appraisal, being that it was difficult to tell what she was feeling through that mask - he continued quickly. "You can understand that I would have a hard time trusting someone who would intentionally withhold information from me?"
"Of course." She paused, and then stiffly settled back into her seat. "Shall we proceed?"
Marcus nodded. It was plain that this woman had become adept at hiding information she didn't want known, and he doubted he would get anything she didn't volunteer today.
Minerva pushed her spectacles even further up her nose while looking down at a small sheet of notes. "Ah, right. What exactly are you doing in America?"
Marcus frowned. "I told you already. I do part-time work for the DARPA Wizardry Off-"
"No, no. You misunderstood me."
It took only a second for Marcus to grasp her meaning. America was the boondocks of the wizarding world; few wizards with means chose to live there, rather than in Europe where all the action was. "My mother died only a few months ago. She'd been sick for some time, and I stayed here to oversee her care."
A trace of softness seemed to come into Minerva's eyes. "I'm sorry."
"You asked because you didn't know. There's nothing to apologize for. Were there any other questions?"
"Ah, yes. Just a few. Do you have any objections to any of the prohibited substances enclosed before?"
"Actually, I did have one." He almost chuckled when Minerva's eyebrows rose. "I'm afraid I'm rather accustomed to my soda - ah, pop - and I don't think I'd be able to just give up caffeine."
Minerva nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. Caffeine is one of the more minor substances. I will have to confirm that with Severus, though."
"Severus?"
"Severus Snape. He's the Potions Master, and was responsible for compiling the list."
"All right. Is that all?"
"We will be using the following protective spells on your home, and most will also be
present on Hogwarts grounds. They are all mandatory. The Anti-Disapparation Jinx, the
Dementor-Banishing Variant, the Bat-Bogey Hex, targeted by your command, of course,
Colloportus, responsive only to your touch, the Defensive Charm, the Disillusionment Charm, the
Impediment Curse, targeted by your command, Incarcerous, targeted against any visitors we have
not cleared, the Scry Protection Charm, a Repelling Charm for explosives, a -"
"I think I get the picture. That will be fine."
"We also provide the option that you place your house under the Fidelius Charm, with any other staff member as Secret-Keeper, if they are willing."
"That will not be necessary."
"Very well. Because Professor Flitwick is busy at the moment, and the casting of all these charms would take one person several hours, I shall return when there is more time. Were there any questions?"
"Who's the new Defense teacher?" Marcus asked bluntly. He was rapidly tiring of this conversation and wanted his question answered without any ado.
"William Weasley will be teaching that class this year."
Marcus shrugged, not recognizing the name. "All right. That's all."
While this office belonged, for a time, to the same man as the previously explored library,
its appearance was vastly different. But for a few books and several rolls of parchment scattered
untidily either on the floor or one of the several chairs, the entire office carried with a prevailing
sense of being too clean. The smell was off, first of all, having the peculiar aftertaste that one too
many Scourgefy spells could leave in the air - although, Marcus reflected, it was odd that it would
have that smell when it was the house elves cleaning up, and they would have used their own
magic, rather than the human wand magic. Second was the light. Any wizard worth a Knut knew
quite a bit about lighting. Severus, the depressing Potions Master Marcus had met only the day
before, obviously knew his lighting. A dark personality deserved his dark room. And though
Marcus considered himself somewhat more toward the light end on the personality scale, he
would have preferred this room to be a few shades darker. But there was nothing to be done
about it for now.
Marcus knew, of course, that not only was his mind wandering, he was avoiding the correct answer: it wasn't the look or the smell that kept the room from the way he wanted it to be; it was the feeling. His library had the 'untidy scholar' look, whereas this had more of a 'mindless bureaucrat' look. He could already tell he would be using the intercontinental Floo quite a bit.
"I'm afraid these offices take a little while to settle around their owners, but they do do it eventually." Marcus whirled around, chastising himself immediately for turning his back to the open door. He was relieved to recognize a kind, bearded face with a unique twinkle.
"Headmaster Dumbledore. I didn't see you come in."
The Headmaster smiled. "That is quite plain, Marcus. But you haven't been a student in many years. Please call me Albus."
"That will take a bit of getting used to. Ah... Would you like a seat? I can clean off a chair..."
"No, no. That won't be necessary. I just wanted to inform you that Hagrid will be somewhat busy when the train arrives from King's Cross, so you will be needed to assemble the first years as they depart the train."
The charms that adapted themselves to each professor's personality - the Room-
Personification Charm, it was called - had been placed in every classroom and every other room
intended for a professor's use, and, Marcus had discovered, in a much weaker form to the Head
Students' rooms. It made sense that they hadn't been put into place in the dormitories or the
common rooms - vastly different students could be in the different place, and should the charm
become confused it could have polka-dotted effects. Much to Marcus's annoyance, the same
headmaster who had decided to put this charm into place several hundred years before had
decided to apply it in a vastly augmented fashion to the Professors' Lounge. When he was alone,
or when only two or three teachers were present, his corner of the room was able to cultivate
about the right sense for his own disposition.
But the charm displeased him for precisely this reason. It had lured him into the
Professors' Lounge to do his reading on several separate nights, only to be irritated by its
peculiarities. For one thing, its ability to adjust to a personality instantly, while pleasing for him,
could be aggravating when a professor such as Severus walked in and all the candles in the room
suddenly dimmed. And it did get confused, sometimes to the point that it automatically shut off, at
any large gathering of the teachers in the room, as had happened when that accursed Poltergeist
had discovered his existence and promptly raised hell.
But Marcus chided himself immediately. Though there were a few minor problems with
the school - such as the infuriating students he would soon have to deal with - Marcus could not
deny that it felt as if every effort was being made to satisfy his needs. For a moment his familiar
paranoia kicked in, wondering if perhaps they weren't being too nice, but again he chided himself.
This was Hogwarts, of course, the workplace of some of the most good hearted people in the
world, and if that was not enough they were having some hiring difficulties at the moment and
would have been in a rather difficult position had he chosen to leave.
The contemplations were interrupted by a sudden sensation of orderliness moving
about in the room. He hadn't heard the door open, so he doubted that it was Minerva's entrance.
In any case, the paint would have shaded itself more toward red had she been present. Instead,
they seemed only to become more bland. Hesitating lazily, Marcus considered and then looked up,
to see a rather boring ghost progressing toward a chair on the other side of the room. The ghost
wore the familiar robes of a Hogwarts professor, attire that he believed was unique to them.
Nevertheless, Marcus decided that the ghost would be more comfortable if he did not interrupt
the atmosphere, and returned to reading his book, comforted that the charm's alterations had not
been too drastic.
An hour and a half later, Marcus had the distinct impression that what had originally been a coincidental common inspiration to catch up on some reading had become a test of wills between himself and the ghost. Though he was not quite sure what it was he would mean if he introduced himself to the ghost and inquired politely what he was reading, he felt that if he had not been addressed at this point it would be in his best interest not to begin a conversat-
"You are the professor who will be substituting for my colleagues?" Marcus could tell just by the voice what had made the walls blander. Nevertheless, he put on a smile.
"Yes. I'm Marcus Butler, Professor of Absolutely Nothing In Particular. You?"
The barest hint of a smile seemed to creep onto the ghost's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "My name is Albernic Binns. I am the History of Magic Professor at this most distinguished institute." The unnecessary wordiness provoked a smile in Marcus, but he suppressed it as quickly as Albernic had hidden his.
"Is this something you do frequently, then?" Marcus inquired, plotting a tactic quickly.
"I confess that I am unsure about your precise meaning." The ghost paused. "If you mean,
this quiet studying , then yes. I have been doing this for... it seems that I must have been doing
this for at least a century, no, a century and a half at least since I lost my corporeal body. I am
certain that I maintained this practice before that time."
"Er, right." At least that drawl would be his only trouble. "Well, would you happen to know offhand if any of the Roman emperors had wizarding ability?"
Albernic nodded. "Ah, yes. This is actually a point of interest for many European historians. Though the magical records did, of course, survive better than their corresponding Muggle counterparts, there is still rather little information to determine the culture and nature of life in the centuries surrounding 1 A.D. However, on your specific topic we can consider ourselves fortunate because much of what information we do have related to the emperor and the senatorial class. By comparison we have almost no information on the lower classes, who based on our records seemed to have been ignored by the senatorial class, meaning of course that they received no attention from anyone who can write. It is largely based on speculation that we have derived a vision of lower class Rome, which seems to have been primarily akin to the Muggle working class-"
"The emperors?" Though Marcus was surprised to find that the drawl could actually be quite interesting - well, tolerable anyway - he had been curious about this point and had been researching it for quite some time and would have preferred to move on to the further stages of his research.
"Right. I apologize. A surprisingly small number of Roman emperors turned out to be
wizards. It is currently our belief that some element of the diet of an emperor seems to have
formed an accidental potion that suppresses magical ability. No one would have noticed such a
mistake because no one was aware that anything untoward was happening. There is a small group
of historians which I am not a part of that claim that - wait. Before I continue with this particular
strand of storyline, you must understand that I am not joking." Marcus nodded solemnly,
preparing himself for the worst. "There is a small group of historians, which I am most certainly
not a part of, which claim that the emperors were actually goblins transfigured to appear to be
particularly majestic humans."
At Marcus's snort, Albernic nodded. "I assure you that most of the rest of us find it equally humorous. Nevertheless, it is important to note that they have a small degree of evidence to back up their claim. In any case, magical talent manifested itself in only two imperial bloodlines: the first was the bloodline of Julius Caesar. It does not appear to have manifested itself in any others of the Julio-Claudian line, which is sensible because there were no direct descendants of the first Caesar in that line. This magical ability, coincidentally, manifested itself only once in our recordings; it granted him the surge of constitution that allowed him to survive the first twenty stabs of the conspirators against his life.
"The second is the line of Marcus Aurelius -" again Albernic paused. "I do not suppose that-"
"He is my namesake, yes."
"Indeed. In any event, Marcus Aurelius manifested his magical talent in a way completely different from the method that chose Caesar. We believe that Aurelius accepted and trained his magical power in private but never revealed it to anyone. This is supported by several pages of additional writing in his work which are only visible to wizards and offer additional accounts along the same lines but including references to magic and wizardry. It is interesting that Aurelius specifically ordered his children to consume approximately the substances required to form the potion mentioned earlier; the conclusion we draw from this is that Aurelius was fully aware of the danger his son would be in the future to Rome but was for some reason compelled not to act directly on it; and instead suppressed his son's magical power in order to limit the damage he could do. The damage he dealt was still great, so Aurelius may have been unsuccessful in that endeavor."
"Well, thank you for that. It should be most useful."
"If I may inquire, useful for exactly what purpose?"
"Oh. I'm writing a book. Well, plann- no, well- no, researching some background for my planning for the eventual writing of a book I've been wanting to write for some time now."
"Most interesting." Marcus nodded at the sentiment from Albernic. "What is it called?"
Marcus hesitated. "I've been thinking of calling it Meditations."