CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

''Did I hear Headmaster Black say your great-grandmother wasn't a Squib?''

''Blood-traitor, according to him.'' I climbed down the ladder to join Galilea. I wiped my hands off on my robes. They weren't really dirty, but talking to the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black had left me feeling unclean. ''Ran off and married a Squib, that would be my great-grandfather Mungan Puttock. According to Black none of my maternal ancestors were Muggles.''

''Blood-traitors and filthy Squibs!'' The portrait yelled curses at me from its high perch on the wall. ''Every one of them! Filth!''

''Drunk!'' I yelled back. ''Even your paint reeks of booze!''

Galilea put her arm on my hand. ''Time to go,'' she said firmly. ''I'm not spending my lunch standing around listening to yet another Black family argument.''

The crushing darkness came down on us and we Disapparated out of her office. We Apparated into Hogsmeade, standing in the snow outside the Three Broomsticks Inn. I squinted in the sudden glare off the snow.

''That makes my mother a weird sort of Pureblood, but she never cast a spell in her life. So she was a Squib and I'm a, what, exactly?''

I opened the door for Galilea and followed her into the noise and warmth of the inn's dining hall.

''The terms 'Squib' and 'Muggle' are not terribly precise,'' said Galilea. She paused to ask a server for a table for two. As we followed the young witch through the dining hall Galilea went on. ''The ability to cast spontaneous magic drops off quite quickly after one turns twelve or thirteen. You may simply have never seen her work any magic.''

We sat at a table towards the back of the hall, close enough to the fire to be warm but not so close that I couldn't ignore it. I chose to sit with my back to it. After the server finished reciting the specials and left, I continued. ''No. My mother had a twin sister, Miranda. Cordelia and Miranda Puttock. She died in a fishing accident when they were nine. And my mother lost her left eye when she was seven, playing hockey. I can't imaging any of that happening if they'd been able to do anything about it.''

''Good Lord,'' said Galilea. ''I thought you were being dramatic when you spoke of a family curse.''

''Uh, so did I. Is there such a thing?''

The witch came back with our drinks, gillywaters for both of us. We hadn't had a chance to look at the menu so Galilea and I both ordered the special.

''There is indeed such a thing, and it as nasty a piece of Dark work as Imperius or the Killing Curse. Relatio Excrucior, the Kin-Harrower. Speak to Professor Fairbairn about it. He should be able to find if there's one set on you.''

I thought about that. ''I don't think so. I'm not any more unlucky than anyone else.''

''You mean, aside from your entire family dying in a fire? And your little psychotic episode when you were nineteen?''

''Hey now, I managed not to flunk out of college. It wasn't a full-blown psychotic episode.'' Looking back on what I'd just said... ''Okay, yeah, I'll arrange a meeting with Ewart.''

I sat back to collect my thoughts. By Wizarding standards, all this made me... A Halfblood Squib? The child of a Pureblood Squib, raised as a Muggle? Galilea was right. The terms Squib or Muggle, wizard or witch, weren't really adequate. From Squibs and Muggles who could see spirits, to a couple of my students who could barely cast the spells they'd need for their OWLs despite being from the 'best' Pureblood families, to people like Riddle who could influence human thoughts as children... There seemed to be a spectrum of magical ability, and the Wizarding World didn't seem to have the language for it. They'd invented political definitions, social definitions, and like all crude racist language it fell apart as soon as you took a close look at reality.

The server brought our smokies and bowls of Cullen skink. The smell of chowder and smoked fish pulled me out of my thoughts. Galilea and I started in on the food, and for several moments the only noises from our table were the clink of cutlery and the small sounds of eating. About halfway through my smokie I slowed down.

''Did you see the Quibbler today?'' I asked Galilea.

''Unfortunately. I don't know what's happened with them. They used to be quite reliably pro-reform. But these days...''

'''Will Muggle Professor Lead YOUR Child Into A Death Trap?'.'' I quoted the headline. ''The good news is, it wasn't on the front page. The bad news is, I only started distributing those safety brochures yesterday, so - ''

''It must be a student sending these rumours on to the press,'' Galilea finished. ''I wish we could narrow it down a bit though.''

I shrugged. ''I can think of a half-dozen students who seem scared but fascinated with me, a half-dozen who are just scared, and another half-dozen who I think genuinely hate me. And it's only the third day of classes. Just wait until I spring that pop quiz on them next week.''

''I must say, you're taking this remarkably well.''

I scoffed. ''This is nothing. I used to lie awake at night plotting to kill Pere Noel. That's what I called my thesis advisor.''

'''Pere Noel'?''

''I did my PhD at a French-language university. It's French for 'Father Christmas'.''

''I know what it means, but why 'Pere Noel?''

''Easy. I only ever saw him once a year, he had a beard you could lose a small child in, he always seemed to be wearing the same outfit, and he had a list of who he did and didn't like.'' I shook my head. ''God, I hated him. 'A ma connaissance, Monsieur Chasseur...'. Just admit you were too damn lazy to do a review of the literature, you useless old fart.''

''Oh dear. I seem to have triggered a rant.''

''And he would always call me Chasseur instead of Hunter. That's not even the right form for my name, and even if it were none of the real French faculty had trouble with Hunter. Jessi never had trouble with my name, and she grew up in a purely Francophone community. My advisor was a Hispanic guy from from fucking San Diego.''

Galilea raised her eyebrows. ''I must get the whole story from you.''

''Later. You're right, I'm ranting. That's a lousy way to spend a lunch date.''

We turned our attention back to the food, polishing off the chowder and smoked fish. It was a good solid combo for a snowy late Autumn day, and I started to feel a bit more relaxed. The last of the bad taste from my conversation with Headmaster Black faded.

''I spoke with Professor Trelawney.'' Galilea carefully wiped her mouth with her napkin. ''She assures me that her niece Helen has never shown the slightest sign of any talent for divination. Sybill suspects that her niece is merely playing to the press. The young lady is apparently, and I quote, 'a complete attention-whore'.''

''Charming,'' I said. ''Does she lecture her students with that mouth? But I guess it is reassuring.''

''Very. I worked in the Department of Mysteries long enough to learn to hate prophecy. Trying to understand the loops causality must bend itself through to avoid paradox... I spent a fortune on headache remedies thanks to those with the Second Sight, and I didn't even work directly for that Office.''

The server cleared our dishes away and we passed on pudding. Dessert. Whatever. When the bill appeared in he middle of our table I got to it before Galilea could.

''I know for a fact that I earn more than you do,'' she said.

''Yes, but I have a puny male ego. If I let you pay my big hairy coconuts will shrivel away.''

''Well we can't have that,'' she said, smirking. ''You need to earn your keep, after all.''

I counted out Sickles from my change-purse, trying to lighten the load a bit. Carrying all your cash in coins gets heavy. ''What's the standard tip around here?''

''Ten percent, perhaps a bit - Oh no Geoffrey, that's far too much. You'll make the poor girl nervous, she'll think you fancy her. Put that back.''

''Right. Sometimes I forget we're in Scotland. Think sheep and cheap.'' I took a few coins back.

Galilea gave me a faked look of outrage. ''I grew up here. We are not cheap, we are frugal.''

We left the inn and stood in the glare. I watched a man clear the snow from the walkway, using one Charm to melt the snow and then another to steam away the water. I spoke quietly to Galilea. ''If your school had taught him how to use a shovel when he was young, he'd probably get enough exercise to lose that gut.''

''We use magic for everything, even when Muggle methods would be more practical.'' Galilea wrapped her arm around mine. We fell through darkness and came out on the other side in her office. I looked over to the portraits and was relieved to see that Black wasn't in. I didn't need another fight before class.

''What Year do you have next?''

''Second. Gryffindors. I haven't had a full class of Lions yet. Anything I should know?''

Galilea thought for a second. I ran a finger down the crease in her forehead and down her nose. She leaned up and kissed the tip of my finger. ''They're loud and they like attention,'' she said. ''And if they can't get positive attention they'll fight for negative attention. But they're hopelessly transparent about it. Hand out House points for every little thing, and take them away for equally small reasons. They'll be happy to play that game all through the year, without ever realizing that you're playing them.''

''Unlike my Snakes, who I have to feed rumours and innuendo to keep quiet.'' I pulled Galilea into a hug. ''The Ravens just want to know every detail of my life. I had a Third Year ask what Muggles use for birth control, since we can't use Charms.''

''What did you tell him?'' Galilea spoke into my shoulder.

''Her. That I'd have Madam Bones look over a couple of Muggle books about it, and if she thought they were appropriate then she'd make them available in the healer's ward.''

''Nicely handled.''

Our hands were starting to wander. A bit distracted I said, ''The Badgers don't care what I do, so long as I'm 'fair' about it and treat everyone the same. Um, I'm not going to be able to walk to class if you keep doing that.''

''Mm. I suppose I should try to be good. I only had that one brief lapse on Saturday.''

'''Brief'? I don't remember getting a lot of sleep that night.''

''I've had a bit of a dry spell these past few years. I think I may be forgiven for relieving a bit of pent up pressure.''

''I'm not complaining.'' After another minute or two I broke the embrace. ''Okay. I really do need to settle down before I go to class.''

''Perhaps a strategically placed Cooling Charm...''

''No.''

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

I finally made my escape from Galilea's office, still a bit flushed. I smiled and nodded at students as I passed them, distracted by thoughts of Galilea but also by thoughts of my mother's family.

I'd thought I'd known more about my great-grandfather than his wife, but other than the basic details of his life I knew very little - Born near Selkirk in 1879, trained as a farrier, moved to Stonehouse in Gloucestershire for no stated reason, married Virginia Black in 1903 and then immigrated to Canada a year later, worked for the Grand Trunk and then Canadian National Rail, and died in a work accident in 1934. Beyond that I had nothing about his family or home life before he'd moved to St. Marys.

My great-grandmother had left behind very little biographical information - Her children thought she'd been 69 or 70 when she'd died in 1939, and she'd been born in a little town near Bristol. Other than that all Ginny Puttock had left behind was a bundle of letters to her cousin Lyra - My other great-grandmother - full of angry gossip about her neighbours in St. Marys and her family back home. The alcoholic Phineas who'd married 'that witch Ursula, who was no better than she ought to be', and Sirius who had died with only his brother as witness, 'and you know what Ella was like', and on and on.

She had clearly been a horrible old woman, but at a safe distance of eight decades dead she had a kind of trainwreck fascination about her. Her surviving son Iain Puttock had married his cousin Moira Wyvern, and of their children only my mother had lived to adulthood. Cordelia Puttock had married Owen Hunter, and they'd begat Geoffrey and Aveline.

Thinking all that through helped. By the time I got to my classroom things had settled down, but I could still smell her perfume on my robes.