The top of the tower was large, rectangular, and centered above the main body of Hogwarts Castle, with low stone ramparts providing a protective barrier around the working area. Dim red lamps had been scattered over the ground to provide light, but only just enough for people not to trip over each other's robes. If you were to lean out over the side and look down, Hogwarts would almost look like a city, each of its windows, hallways, and courtyards illuminated by individual torches, with the most notable exception being the lack of any cars or foot traffic. Occasionally you might see a caretaker passing by with a mop or broom, or a lonely ghost coming in and out of sight as it went behind columns and walls, but for the most part, all was silent.

This was partly due to the magically-enchanted shroud that blocked out the light and noise from coming up and interfering with the activities on the top of the tower. It worked so well, that if you were far enough immersed in your work, you might just be able to forget Hogwarts was there at all. It wouldn't work if you deliberately went looking out over the ramparts, of course, but if you stayed within the designated area, it did the job just fine.

It was nearly midnight. The first-years of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses had been summoned from their cozy common rooms and made to march through the castle, up stone stairwells and past open windows that stole away their warmth, until they'd finally emerged at the designated meeting point. They were now queued up before a table that reminded Nathaniel of the ones you might see at a medium-scale auction - set off to the side, and offering an array of buttery spanakopita or caprese skewers as finger food for the attendees. This one just featured a single cauldron and what were probably sixty stone goblets, if he had figured the amount of students right.

They moved steadily forward, one-by-one, to receive a ladle-full of potion from one of the Astronomy Professors, then went off and found a spot to park their telescopes. When it was time for Nathaniel's turn, his reluctance spiked - he'd been picturing something like the pumpkin juice they were so fond of, but the potion that drooped into his goblet was as close to that as… well, there might not have been an adequate comparison for it. The substance was dark, creamy, and had a sort of cloudy sheen on its surface, as though oily. Sometimes, something red or orange would gleam as it shot through its depths, reminding him of the sparks from a fire, which was all the stranger if the potion was supposed to be one consistency without any odd lumps or undissolved ingredients. It was as though someone had taken an idea, or abstract concept, or some sort of magical spell and liquified it - which might have been exactly what happened, as far a he knew.

"Come on now dearie, drink up," said the Astronomy Professor. (Docherty, if he remembered right.)

And that was another thing - adults weren't supposed to give kids things to drink. He didn't know why, but that was how it was. He'd never gotten anything from any of his teachers at his preparatory schools, and if there was ever an event or something, he'd at least had to pay for it, and the option of whether or not to actually consume it. He'd probably have that option here too, of course, if he went and made a fuss, but that would go against everything his father wanted for him. He was in magic school. He was around magic people. He was within an entirely different culture, and he couldn't start questioning everything and trying to disrupt their way if life, at least not until he knew what he was doing. Plus, everyone else was doing it.

Nathaniel drank.

Once it was down, he coughed, just like the people before him. It had a smooth and light texting, but left his mouth dry and throat slightly burned, as though he'd inhaled a load of hot air.

"The dryness will go away in a minute, dear. Leave your cup and go find a spot, and try to stay at least four feet away from other people."

Swallowing to hold back more coughing, he dropped his goblet by the rest of the empties, tucked his telescope under his arm, and went out amidst the red lanterns and dark bodies. He decided to make his way toward the edge, where it would be easier for him to keep his bearings, but suddenly saw a fellow Hufflepuff from his Wizardry 101 class and stopped.

"Hello," he said.

The girl looked up at him and took a second to make out his face in the darkness.

"You're the white-haired boy with the funny last name," she said. "Starts with a Z, right?"

"Nathaniel Zoldik," he said, and held out a hand, but she didn't see it.

"I'm Maria García."

"Hey, you've got a funny name too."

"How so?"

"It rhymes."

"Oh," she laughed. "You should hear what some of my friends call me. Maria García Que Come Sandia!"

"I… don't speak Spanish."

"Maria García who eats watermelon," she translated. "My full name is Maria García Cajode-Sedilla, so it's kind of asking for it. Wanna partner?"

"Can we do partners?"

"They didn't say we couldn't."

That was true, technically… "Sure. Do you know how to set these up?"

"Yeah, it's not hard."

Maria showed Nathaniel how to extend and retract the tripod legs, swap between lenses (which she herself was still learning, she admitted), and secure the main body of the telescope at whatever angle you wanted. As they worked, Nathaniel noticed three small girls in hijabs watching them, who they went to help afterward to many thank-yous. Eventually the other Astronomy Professor (Professor Sutton) came around and had them return to their own telescopes, then get their supplies out for making notes.

"How are we supposed to see our work?" Nathaniel asked.

By way of response, Professor Sutton tapped the small red lamp next to them with the tip of her boot.

"There's an alteration of the Lumos spell you can learn for low-lighting, but for now, these should do. Don't use Lumos if you know it, it will wreck both your eyesight and those of the people around you. And keep your writers shut, Luminous Pages are even worse. Another lamp can be conjured up if need be, simply come to us and ask. Are your telescopes ready?"

Professor Sutton showed them a better technique for managing their lenses, then walked on and he and Maria arranged their things on the ground in the red light.

"You're using a pen?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yeah, quills are obnoxious."

He hesitated a moment, then took his own pens and pencils out too. There were times to practice your proficiency with wizard-writing tools, but working in semi-darkness where delicacy might be required wasn't one of them.

A minute later, the lesson began, and everyone looked upward. The night sky was marbled with dark clouds, but their shapes amplified the stars between them, and Nathaniel couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anything so brilliant. Unchallenged by the light of a moon, the points of light were unnaturally bright next to any of those he knew from the city. There must have been a thousand more of them, too, if not a million - off to the side, the dusty ribbon of the Milky Way stretched over the horizon, which was something he'd never seen before off of his laptop. Its sight almost made his heart hurt by how big it was, how big everything was, and how small they were, here on this little tower, guarded only by the clouds. If the Professors hadn't said so, he'd have thought there was some magical enchantment to make everything more astounding or spell-binding than normal, like something you'd see in a fantasy painting. But this… it was just the raw, unaltered beauty of the stars, that could be seen anywhere in the world, if you went far enough away from cities and electricity.

They worked for an hour, going back and forth between their telescopes and parchment, making notes on what constellations they saw and where they were in relation to one another. A good amount of time was spent just looking at it, appreciating its sight, and it was in these moments that he and Maria pointed things out to one another, or talked about what classes they liked, or answered the questions of nearby students if they happened to know and the Professors weren't around. They were silent a lot, too, for you couldn't help but fall quiet with the stars how they were. Every now and then, Maria would share something from her life, and Nathaniel would listen, experiencing one of the rare moments when he felt completely immersed in the world around him.

It was nice talking about things, in a way - although he and Maria had very little in common, the world of magic had still come as a shock to both of them. It was pretty unsettling to have an entire new mode of existence thrust upon you, and the old one entirely stripped away. It was amazing, brilliant, fantastic, every day bringing new wonders and things they'd never thought possible, but with all the elation in their hearts, there was a sense loss too.

Maria had her entire family back home. Even though she could still see them and talk to them as often as she liked, there was no denying something would be different now. She was on a journey that nobody could join her on, doing crazy, wonderful new things, and her mother and father and brothers and sisters couldn't come with her.

Late in the lesson, a moment passed where the talking quieted to soft mutterings, and little other noise came outside of the movement of cloaks, or scratching of quills and pens on parchment, or the little metallic noises from telescopes adjustments. People stood as shadows, everyone looking upward in the darkness, the stars shining down through the dark shapes of the clouds.

"Ah, I miss my friends," Maria whispered.

It always seemed like everyone had their own things going on. There wasn't anyone he knew that didn't have some show they were watching, or people they always hung out with, or projects they were working on. Everyone was always doing things. His father was always at work (or thinking about it), his mother was always thinking about his father (and working herself), and Hass and Reynolds and the other staff of their home… they had their own lives, and couldn't be talked to without it coming back formal. Sure, sometimes Hass would contribute a few gruff words to a conversation, but it was never much. Sometimes Sensei would notice things about him - Nathaniel, you seem stressed, Nathaniel, you are distracted, Nathaniel, you must focus, but whenever he tried to say anything, Sensei would shut it down. Nathaniel, we must work. Now is the time to practice your defense, talking can come later.

But there never was a later. People always talked like there would be, but people were busy, and low-priority tasks got buried and forgotten. He understood that. He didn't expect his teachers or friends to know his name beyond "Mr. Zoldik", because asking them to take more time out of the day to memorize minor details would be unreasonable. Nathaniel didn't want to bother anyone, or make anyone's life more strenuous. The people that wanted to stay and be friends would, and everyone else would go on with their own things. Like Chase and Edgar - they'd talked to him a few times about their game systems, and asked him what other forms of non-magical entertainment there were, and he told them, then they went back to talking with themselves. Kids did that at his old school, too. Eventually, you just had to realize that not everyone would stick around forever. So Nathaniel didn't expect them to.

And that was fine. Really. He had his own things, just like everyone did. He had his shows, his PDFs, his internet forums, places where he could go online that showed him all the fantastic and incredible things in the world, and provided a never-ending supply of users for him to interact with and conversations to read over. Or at least he did, before coming to Hogwarts. But even now, he still had his books, and the stories they contained. He had his imagination. So even if it was hard being without the internet, he was okay. And besides, there were lots of books at Hogwarts too.

So Nathaniel couldn't relate to Maria in a lot of ways. After their astronomy lesson, he'd thought about the kind of person she was and life she must've come from, and realized things were probably a lot easier for him. He wasn't used to being surrounded by people, or having the type of family she had, so there was probably less of an adjustment.

He'd tried waiting for her that morning to check on her, after doing his push-ups and crunches and tidying up his uniform, but he'd missed her. Of course, he'd missed just about everyone else too, having come to take things more slowly. At that very moment, in fact, if not for one other person, he might've been the last one left in the common room.

"Running late again, are we, young Hufflepuff?" asked a kindly, ghostly voice.

"Morning, Friar."

"Good morning, my son. Still not sleeping well?"

"Just taking things slow. I figure, if breakfast lasts an hour and a half, and you only need about ten minutes to eat, why rush things?"

"Oh, come now, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" the Friar exclaimed. "It's important to take your time with it. Eating too fast can be trouble for your stomach, and besides - eating is one of life's greatest pleasures! It's something worth enjoying!" he guffawed, and patted his belly.

Nathaniel smiled, and he and the Friar entered the hallway outside the common room, the big stone door rolling shut behind them.

"Remind me of your name again, my son? I know you've told me on previous trips, but I've become terribly poor at remembering things in my death!"

"It's... no trouble. Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel? Very well, then! And why is it, if I may ask, don't you do things at the same pace as your peers? Not that I don't mind the company, of course! But it's always good to surround oneself with those their age, particularly at school."

"Oh, I do - there's plenty of time throughout the day. I talk with them in my classes, and at lunch and dinner. I think I just prefer quiet mornings. Plus, I have my routine."

"I see! Well, do what you find comfortable, just so long as you aren't by yourself all the time! It's important to make friends after all!"

"My father tells me the same thing. I don't have any trouble making friends, though."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, I made one just last night, in fact, during Astronomy."

"That's jolly good to hear! What sorts of things do you share?"

"Well, we're both Muggle-born."

"I see! Anything else? What about your interests?"

"Well…"

However, before he could think of a reply, a clanking sound started coming from the wall ahead of them.

"Here he comes," Nathaniel said.

The Friar looked at him quizzically, but sure enough, the knight with the arrow sticking out of his head came stomping through the wall. Nathaniel watched with amusement as the scene played out the same as it had a number of times before.

"Friar!"

"Good morning, my dear knight!"

"Have you seen Sir Gommersworth?"

"Not at all!"

"He didn't show up for our meeting, again! We've met at the same time, same location, for two centuries now, and all of a sudden he's stopped coming!"

"Perhaps he's fancied a change of pace?"

"Mighty rude of him, if you ask me, not to say anything! When I find him, I'm going to give him a good bash over the helm!"

"I shall keep an eye out, but as always, practice forgiveness, my son!"

But, as always, the knight had already stomped off through the next wall, grumbling to himself, and wasn't likely to have heard.

"That poor man," said the Friar.

"He says the same thing every time."

"Does he indeed?"

"Why can't he find him? Surely he knows where else Sir Gommersworth likes to go?"

"Well, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say he doesn't look for very long. We ghosts have our routines, too, and we like to stick to them!"

"So… you change one thing in your routine, and you miss everything about it from then onward?"

"That's usually how it goes!"

That seemed… silly. If you only saw a person during one particular activity, then you would never see them again if you stopped doing it. Sure, it happened all the time for things like seeing a particular cashier at the grocery store, but that wasn't the case for the majority of things. People liked to keep in contact, didn't they? They missed each other when they were gone. It wasn't usual for someone to drop something, or someone, out of their lives, and never see them again, at least if there was any truth to the TV shows and movies he watched. But... ghosts were different creatures, maybe. And, every so often, things like that did happen to some degree, when somebody moved, or closed out a social network account, or… went to boarding school. Nathaniel thought of Maria and her family. Whenever there were big life changes, it got harder to keep in contact, and there were always some losses along the way.

"Friar…"

"Yes, my son?"

"Why is the magical world kept secret from non-wizards?"

The Friar looked down at him in surprise.

"I mean, I've heard of the International Statute of Secrecy," he went on, "but why did it come about? Why keep people separate?"

"That's a rather odd question, and not one easy to answer" he said. "May I ask what made you think of it?"

"The knight, just now. That friend from Astronomy is having a hard time adjusting to things, being without her family and friends."

"Ah. So, like the knight, she's feeling lonely, and is out to give someone a good bash over the helm?"

"Er, no," Nathaniel said, and they laughed.

"Well, it's not something I know much about, to be honest!" The Friar said. "The Statute of Secrecy was a bit after my time, you see. All I can say is, Muggle and Wizard relations have always been a bit strained, sorry to say..."

"Because of the balance of power?"

"Because of fear, my child. You must understand, that as many witches and wizards as there are, there are far more of our non-magical brethren. If ever someone happens to find themselves in a minority, they are likely to be turned scapegoat for the more unpleasant things in life."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, misfortune. Illness. People making poor choices, and wishing for someone to blame. Too often is it oneself that needs adjustment, rather than the world around them."

"I can understand that. My father knows of a good deal of people who fail due to a lacking ambition, or poor work ethic, and don't see how to correct themselves."

"Your father must be a wise man! But, I hope he leaves room for relaxation and enjoyment every now and then?"

"I think work is his idea of enjoyment."

"But not you?"

"I'm… not sure."

"That's not unusual! You are young, and there's plenty of time for you to find your purpose in life. For some it is work, for others learning, and others still it is triumph. Then there are those who strive for love and compassion, to keep humanity tied together. All are perfectly reasonable ways of life."

Nathaniel nodded, but didn't say anything.

"In any case, I believe we went into hiding for the same reason anyone does: to protect ourselves."

"Protect yourselves? Why would you need to do that, if you have magic?"

"Well… there's not always much one can do, you see. If all you know are simple gardening charms, it's rather hard to defend yourself from a mob of frightened townspeople."

Nathaniel grimaced.

"I'm... sorry, my son. I didn't mean to put unpleasant scenes in your mind."

"No, it's okay, it's what I asked. So, the magical community went into hiding a long time ago, and things have stayed the same ever since?"

"I believe so."

"Even though there's a Ministry of Magic now, and departments suited for Wizard-Muggle relations?"

"Those are also things that came after my time, unfortunately. Do you think that Muggles and Wizards could coexist?"

Nathaniel thought about it. First and foremost, introducing magic to the world would create a frenzy for technological advancement - it was one of the first things his father thought about, after all. You could burn a million liters of gasoline, or (maybe) say a few magical words, and get the same effect without any of the energy loss, at least relatively. A process operating off magical sources would immediately outstrip that off conventional means in no time. Then (and Nathaniel wasn't sure to what extent of intricacy magic could operate), if an eleven-year-old could change the color of a pebble without going through a rigorous chemical reaction process, it wasn't too hard to imagine an adult being able to extract a ton of pure iron from the earth without too much effort. Heck, if transfiguration was as powerful as it looked, you could probably make diamonds out of chips of wood in no time. And then, there was the application of weaponry, nanotechnology, medicine… what if wizards had a way to cure chronic illness? Rectify genetic disorders? Purge superbugs? And all that knowledge was still in print sources, so it was a finite resource that could be acquired and given a controlled distribution. There might even be magic capable of mind control, allowing for easy infiltration and steering of governments… Nathaniel didn't know too much about the background operations of the world, at least next to his father, but he did know some things. And if the world caught wind of magic… it would be chaos.

"No," Nathaniel admitted. "Not immediately, and not easily."

The Friar sighed.

"I've long thought that must be the case, or it surely would have happened by now. It's most unfortunate. It's been a long-time hope of mine that someday peace will exist between all peoples, but there is much to work against, and not many who are willing. Humanity's history is not a pleasant one, sorry to say! But one must keep fighting the good fight, for as long as they are able.

"Back when I was alive, I certainly had no qualms against offering aid to those in need, regardless of their make. What's a simple healing charm, if it can give a sick child a fighting chance at the future? Of course, not everyone saw it that way. But I will say... if you are curious about Muggle and Wizard relations throughout history, why not ask your History professor? I'm sure Professor Binns would love to answer a question or two during office hours!"

"Professor Binns?"

"Why, yes!"

"The History of Magic professor is Professor Byron…?"

"Oh, that's right!" the Friar said, touching his forehead. "There I go again. My apologies, young Hufflepuff! It's easy to lose track of things, when the years go by as fast as they do."

"It's… no trouble."

They got to the stairway, and had to move a bit closer together under the arched ceiling. As always, Nathaniel felt the cool air that composed the Friar, and the odd sense of emptiness, as though there ought to be something there, but wasn't. From what he'd heard, most people found the proximity of a ghost to be unsettling, but for him, there was something relaxing about it. It reminded him of the cool air conditioning back in his room at home, where he had all his games and internet access and could live at his own pace.

"So, this Muggle-born from Astronomy," the Friar said. "You say she's having a hard time?"

"By the sounds of it."

"Well, as a member of Hufflepuff House, it is your sworn duty to be her friend, and make sure she feels right at place!"

"Haha, sure."

"Very good, then!" the Friar said jovially. "I wonder, do you have one of those magnificent notebooks people have taken to of late?"

"A writer? Sure," Nathaniel said, patting his pocket.

"Have you exchanged contact pages with her?"

"Er, no, I haven't, but that's a nice idea."

"Excellent, excellent! I've always loved seeing friendships blossom, and am always happy to help poke things in the right direction!"

Nathaniel smiled at the Friar's expression.

"That's one of the best things about sticking around," the Friar said happily. "You get to see all the marvelous developments in wizarding technology, and how they bring everyone together!"

They came to the Entry Hall, and the Friar nodded in a way that was meant as a bow.

"Well, God's blessings on you and the start of your friendship, my son!"

"Are you off to your window?"

"Indeed! The sun should just be hitting the lake about now. It truly is a beautiful sight."

"Maybe I'll check it out sometime."

"You are always welcome, young Hufflepuff. But for now, eat, and be merry!"

And with that, the Friar drifted upward, gave a last wave, and disappeared through the beams in the ceiling.

Nathaniel turned to the open doors of the Great Hall, and with a sigh, entered. Not for the first time, he passed a longing eye over the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Hufflepuff was right next to Gryffindor, and there were more than a handful of them that were morning people. They were up and down for the entire duration of the meal, constantly arriving late or leaving early, or even eating while standing in the aisleways. Nathaniel always sat with his back to them - that much movement was enough to make anyone's meal unpleasant.

Spotting Maria, Nathaniel went over. However, right as he went to pull his writer out of his pocket, he felt the Paper Man move and he hesitated - perhaps breakfast wasn't the best time? What if, like him, she preferred a quieter start to the mornings? She certainly seemed to be preoccupied with her food, from where he stood. After their first class would undoubtedly be better, once they'd both had a chance to wake up a little… he certainly didn't want to add to the clamor, if it was as bothersome to her as him.

Removing himself from the walkway, Nathaniel sat down at a nearby spot. He had a slight feeling of guilt, thinking of what the Friar would have thought, but if his father had taught him anything introducing yourself to a potential contact was a delicate matter. It had to be done in the right moment, and that moment probably wasn't when you were trying to eat. And besides... they had all day together. They were in all the same classes.

Nathaniel spooned some jam on a biscuit and ate.

He let his mind wander to what life might've been like back in the Friar's day, around a thousand years ago.

In his pocket, the Paper Man settled.