Chapter 21

Trial by Fire, Part 2

Wednesday, June 20th 1991

"This isn't possible," said the pale-blond man. "This just isn't. Are you sure? Are you sure this is hers?"

"Yes, this is mydaughter's notebook," Beverly said narrowing her hazel eyes at the man.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his wire-rimmed glasses and continued to pace about the room. He turned to face her again. "Could your daughter have copied it from somewhere else? Is there someone in your family or a friend who's an advanced arithmancer?" he prodded and paused in his pacing and gave her a-once-over. "If this is your work…"

"No to all of the above," she answered. "I came here because I wanted to see if you could suggest a tutor for my daughter just as I told your secretary. Dr. Engels recommended that I bring one of Sera's notebooks to give you an idea of what she's been doing so far. What I didn't come here for was to be accused of lying."

She stood up and reached to take the black-and-white notebook from off the man's impeccably organized desk. The grade school composition book clashed terribly with his pompous décor.

"No!" he cried out and practically lunged for the thing with both hands. "This is –" He swallowed for air and his face flushed pink at the embarrassing display. "I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Keating for my behavior." He tugged at his tie with one hand. "This is phenomenal work for someone of any age, but to believe a nine-year-old child could produce something this like this is inconceivable."

He read the disbelief in the woman's finely arched eyebrow and sat down with a plop.

"You don't know what this is, do you?" He readjusted his tie and sat down turning the pages at an angle so that she could see as well.

"I know that it's my daughter's notebook, which she purchased three of for ninety-nine cents," she informed him peevishly.

"Three for ninety-nine cents," he repeated with a chuckle.

He turned the pages with the carefulness of a monk with a Gutenberg Bible.

"It starts here," he said pointing at one of the beginning pages.

It was marked with numbers interspersed with italicized letters and a plethora of mathematical mumbo jumbo.

"Is it some sort of math problem?" she asked. Her comprehension of arithmancy ended with algebra.

"Yes and no," he replied. "It's an equation, but more importantly I think its part of a larger proof." He flipped through the pages hoping to come across a concluding statement that would explain, but it seemed the author had gotten stuck midpoint. A whole page full of penciled in dots was followed by nothing but blank pages.

He went back to the page of dots. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he studied it. Perhaps he was wrong. He needed time to read through the book and analyze its coherence, but maybe the girl was a savant. She might not even realize what she had even written. Elaine Engels worked with children with diminished capacities, so it wasn't such an unlikely guess.

"It's an optical illusion," Beverly told him. "Hold it further away and focus your attention on the center of the page." She leaned back in her seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in her gray business skirt.

Norstadt struck an amusing pose with one hand holding the notebook at arms length squinting his eyes in concentration. The dots on the page intersected in the center in a manner different from those on the rest of the page and then finally he saw it. He looked away and back again to be sure.

"Oh – Wow," he said stunned. "Her pet?"

Beverly smiled and said, "Yes, but Sera thinks of him – Roscoe, as more of a companion. She tried to convince us that he should sit next to her at the dining table and be given his own chair as an equal member of the family."

"How uh… cute," he remarked rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. "I uh… I'd like to meet her, Mrs. Keating," he said. "It would help me suggest some appropriate candidates."

They conferred schedules and set up a meeting for three days later in Norstadt's office.

Eugene Norstadt had prepared some questions for Seraphina to see if she was a fake who'd been coached by her parents. He noted that she'd only been allowed to take the Stanford-Binet Intelligence Quotient Test, which any overzealous parent could obtain the answers and force-feed to their child, so her extraordinary test results only made him more skeptical. Most suspect of all was the strange illness the girl was said to be suffering from.

He was only vaguely familiar with autism and from the data he'd been able to gather Seraphina didn't quite fit the profile completely. To top it off the Keatings refused to let him met with their daughter one-to-one. Either they were overprotective or they wanted to perpetuate some sort of hoax. Money wasn't the motive though. His background check into their finances made him envious even though he himself made a six figure salary. Although both Mr. and Mrs. Keating worked neither of them needed to. They were set for this life and the next.

His secretary announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Keating and their daughter. Eugene immediately noted that she was tall for her age and consciously avoided eye-to-eye contact as they made their formal introductions to each other.

Eugene removed a small stack white cards from a drawer and straightened them on the desktop.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating, I've read through your daughter's file and it doesn't give a full picture of her capabilities. May I ask why you haven't had her tested any further?"

"We didn't see the need for it," Rick answered.

"We know she's bright," Bev added.

"How do you feel about being tested, Seraphina?" Eugene asked.

"I feel fine," she answered.

He arched an eyebrow unsure if she had been following the conversation. Her eyes wandered over the various objects in the room: his framed diplomas and various antiques placed tastefully around the room.

"I've uh… prepared," he gestured with the stack of cards some questions to get a range of her abilities. "Some questions for you. Just some silly math problems. If you don't know the answer you can pass and we'll just move on."

There was an awkward pause as he waited for some reply from her.

"Alright, let's begin. How many minutes are there in forty-eight years?" he read off the card.

"There is not sufficient information for me to give an accurate answer," she replied.

"You mean you don't know," he said leaning slightly forward.

"I cannot answer the question from the information you have given," she said. Her head was tilted oddly slightly to the left. She looked at him from the periphery of her eyes.

"What is the question lacking? It seems quite clear," he said. This was a waste of time. The girl was stalling for time.

"Sera, it's alright if you don't know the answer," Rick placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Look at Mr. Norstadt when he's speaking to you,' he said pointing from her eyes to the other man.

Sera nodded.

She made eye contact with Norstadt for the first time since entering the room and clarified her claim, "I cannot give an answer if the start year is unknown," she said implacably.

"How could that possibly matter?" Eugene asked annoyed at her impertinence.

"Leap years must be taken into account," she said.

"Leap years," Eugene repeated. "Hmph. Well, obviously, disregard them for now and calculate the number of minutes in 48 years which all consist of 365 days."

"25 million, 228 thousand and 800 minutes."

"That's correct. How many seconds?"

"153 million 728 thousand seconds."

She kicked her feet beneath her each time she answered. Eugene wondered if she was somehow receiving the solutions that way until Mrs. Keating, told her to stop as it wasn't polite. That's when he noticed the girl's thick white wool stockings. She was wearing an inordinate amount of clothing and hadn't even taken off her heavy navy blue pea coat.

He flipped to the next card. "How many factors are there in the number 3607?"

"There are no factors in the number 3607," she answered unphased by the trick question.

"Why not?" he asked.

"The number is prime."

"Very good," he said.

Her computation was superb, but he'd seen others do the same. The work in the notebook was more than number crunching.

He flipped through the cards for the one he'd marked with an asterisk.

"What number has the peculiarities that if its cube were added to five times its square and from the result 42 times the number and 40 is subtracted the remainder is nothing?"

She paused for the span of nine seconds before answering, "Five."

"Correct," he said looking up from the cards and opening his desk drawer again. "Last question. Could you explain what this is?" He took out the notebook and handed it back to her.

"This is my composition book," she said.

"Yes. And can you explain to me what you supposedly wrote inside it? Is this a proof?"

"Yes, I can explain. Yes, it is a proof."

"And could you please explain it?" he asked ignoring the heavy sigh from Mrs. Keating.

"It is my attempt to prove the Poincaré conjecture," she said kicking her legs against the chair again.

"You're trying to solve a century's old problem no one else has been able to?"

"No, the problem is only ninety-one-year-old," the little girl countered.

Eugene Norstadt laughed. "I stand corrected in more ways than one. Mr. and Mrs. Keating, you're daughter is a genius."

"So this means you'll supply us with a list of suitable teachers?" Rick said shifting in his seat. "Now that you've determined that my daughter isn't some sort of fraud."

"Who has she been studying under?" Norstadt asked.

"Mrs. Hamilton tutored Sera till she passed her O.W.L.S., but she retired over a month ago," Bev answered. "Sera's been working out of some textbooks we purchased at the bookstore, but she asked us to find someone to teach her more than she can learn out of a book. We asked Dr. Engels and she suggested that we see you."

"Why didn't Elaine send you to me sooner?" he lamented. "So much time wasted. Well, no matter," he thought aloud. "I'm sure with a few calls there'll be no problem."

"Calls to whom?" Rick asked.

"To colleges, universities…. The girl doesn't need a tutor. She needs the whole academic world," Norstadt exclaimed.

"No, she doesn't," Bev protested.

"I don't think I understand," he said, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "When I said your daughter was a genius I meant it. More tests will have to be administered for more formal confirmation, but she needs more than any single tutor can provide."

"We don't want our daughter to become a curiosity," Rick elaborated. "A little girl in a college classroom is obviously going to draw stares."

Norstadt nodded in understanding, "I think something can be arranged."

Monday, October 1st 1996

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice

"Mrs. Delamare, you are Seraphina's godmother?" Maddox asked pacing in front of the witness stand.

Loretta sat erect her graying auburn hair tucked in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. "Yes, I am," she answered.

"You spend a great deal of time with your goddaughter do you not?" the smarmy lawyer questioned.

"Yes," Loretta confirmed, wishing he'd get to the point.

"And you are a MUGGLE, are you not?"

And there it 'tis, she thought. "Yes, I am a Muggle," she replied sans emphasis.

"So you admit it!" Maddox accused.

"Objection your Honors, Councilor is badgering my witness," Bailey said standing up to address the court.

"Objection sustained," Judge Weinfelder, a hawk-nosed German declared. "Mr. Maddox, please conduct your cross-examination without such theatrics."

"I apologize, your Honor," Maddox replied, bowing in mock contrition. "I am merely amazed that someone without any magical abilities should be appointed to look after a witch-child. I have no more questions for this witness."

"Permission to redirect questioning," Bailey requested with a heavy sigh as he approached the stand. He pulled on his gray suit jacket and clasped his hands beside his back.

"Permission granted," Judge Marshall responded with a grim expression.

"Mrs. Delamare," Bailey addressed her with a polite but serious smile. "Could you once again for the record state your professional credentials?"

"I earned my Bachelor of Arts in the English Language and Literature at the University of Limerick and my doctorate in Mythology and Folklore at Yale University. I teach a class or two at the University of New York as professor emeritus," she stated succinctly.

"So you're more than qualified to handle a precocious fourteen year old?"

"I should think so," Loretta said knowingly.

Author's Notes:

To LMTran: You are so right about adding in some atmosphere and imagery. I'm battling the cold / flu I don't know which except it requires a lot of Day and NightQuil. But I thought I'd knock away a few chapters as I'm homebound. I love watching Law&Order, but its hard to write a trial scene... I'll keep trying. Thanks for the input. You always give me such awesomely constructive reviews.

To Jessica: Another update for you!

THANKS to all who read and review.