November 1069

The trouble with traveling alone is that sometimes, bandits mistake you for a good mark.

There were eight of them, hiding around a bend in the road that wound around a small hillock. They all wore heavy leathers, and carried a mix of spears, shortswords, and hunting bows. Currently, that mix was four bows, three spears, and one guy, presumably the leader, with a hand on his sword's hilt.

I sighed. "Been a while since someone has tried to rob me." Then I frowned. "Wait, no, I've never actually been robbed."

I seemed to have interrupted whatever spiel the leader was going to give and derailed his train of thought, leaving him with a bemused look. Or maybe it was my use of French; that had been my primary language over the last few months and I'd gotten into the habit of using it before English. Which was something I really should correct; I didn't want to go native in that regard.

"Look, guys, I really don't have anything to steal," I said in English, shifting my grip on Shadowfax's reigns to hide the rings I was wearing. "I've got my clothes, my horse, and some food for the road."

"That's what they all say," the leader said, having found his voice. It was rather gruff and gnarly.

"Have you considered the possibility that they say it because it's true?" I asked.

The bandits looked at me as if I was crazy. Which wasn't an unreasonable assumption, on the face of it. I mean, how often did you run into a wizard? Assuming you weren't a resident of Berkhamsted.

"Then you won't mind if we check," came the response, the leader sounding a little testy.

I considered just riding around them and blocking their arrows with a shield. It wouldn't be difficult; I'd held a shield against gunfire, and arrows just didn't cut it by comparison. I could even make the shield large enough for Shadowfax. The only issue with that plan is if they had hidden archers, in which case one of them could nail me.

And then one of the bandits, the tallest one, had to get a bright idea. "Hey, what's that around your neck?"

I froze, then let out a long sigh. I kept my pentacle necklace hidden beneath my tunic and duster, for fairly good reason; it was high quality silver with a ruby set into it, and even if that wasn't enough to draw the eye, the pentacle-in-circle arrangement would draw eyes and comment. It just wasn't worth wearing it openly in this day and age. But the silver that made up the necklace tended to be visible, from the right angle.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. New plan." I let go of the reins with my right hand and gestured, intoning, "Infriga ignis", as I did so. The bows of the archers all froze as I sucked the heat out of them, pulling it together into a small ball of fire floating snugly in the palm of my hand.

"We're going to play a game called 'Do You Really Want To Threaten The Wizard?'" I said conversationally. "The rules are simple: either argue with the ball of fire, or let me go by." I willed the ball of fire to advance slowly, in the direction of the wide-eyed, found-himself-swimming-with-sharks leader. For good measure, I started humming the Jeopardy tune.

I didn't even get through the first refrain before they bolted.

"Common Sense for five hundred, Alex," I muttered as I watched them run.

My opinion on criminals varied. Scum like Marcone and most of organization were assholes, plain and simple. They may have dressed up in fine clothes, made vague charitable donations, and made themselves seem necessary, but at the end of the day they decided that money and power was worth all the violence, oppression, and lawbreaking it took to get there.

People like those bandits, I didn't like them, but I could get them. It was easy to turn to crime when your life fell apart with no safety net, leaving you with no good options and a need to eat. And the recent wars and continuous rebellions had destroyed a lot of livelihoods. Soldiers with no homes to return to, farmers with burned and ruined lands, people from towns that had been sacked, and so on. Were they right to resort to banditry? No, obviously not, but it also wasn't their first choice. If a better opportunity came up, I figured some might take it.

I kept on the road to Hogsmeade, arriving at the village around midday and at Rowena's tower a little after that. Helga and Salazar were already there, and the next five or six hours passed with minimal sniping, a little snarking, a bizarre amount of eyebrow waggling from Helga, and a lot of magical theory as we went over Rowena's notes and experiments sending spells through ley lines. Salazar and I didn't even insult each other. Well, maybe a little. Maybe.

It's progress, alright?

The sun had gone down by that point, and with winter approaching, I was hesitant to do any nighttime traveling. It seemed like tempting fate; or rather, Mab. So, as the others left Rowena's tower and headed out, I lingered.

It took a few moments for her to realize I wasn't heading down the stairs with the others, at which point she turned and gave me a curious look. "Harry?"

"I'm sort of... hesitant to travel by night. And it's dark out." I motioned out the window. "So, do you happen to have a spare bed or room or...?"

I trailed off at Rowena's surprised expression and the way she stood there, half-turned, a little bent, just staring at me. It went on for long enough to feel uncomfortable before she blinked, shook her head, and said, "No, I've never really considered accommodations for... guests. There's just the one room and bed." She looked like she might say something more, then pursed her lips and sighed. "I might have some furs as extra winter coverings."

"That would work, thank you," I said.

"...yes. Um. Give me a moment. Wait here," she said, before taking the stairs up to the next level. The staircase was a central, spiraling arrangement that formed sort of the spine of the tower, with the separate floors and rooms radiating out from it. It took a few minutes before she came downstairs with a bundle of furs, which looked to be made out of bear, and set them down on the table we'd been working at, panting.

"I can take things from here," I offered, moving to grab the furs.

"No, no," Rowena said, shaking her head, still panting. With a grunt, she slid the furs over and dropped them to the floor. "Still fairly early to go to sleep. If you're staying I've got to figure out... dinner and..."

"That's not... exactly necessary, I know this is a little sudden-"

"Please," she said, a little insistent.

I sighed and held my hands up in surrender.

She stood there for a few seconds, before shaking her head again and saying, "Right, yes, secrecy. Could you, uhm..."

"Sure," I said, getting up, heading over to the window, and covering my ears. I could guess what she was asking easily enough, and it didn't really surprise me that Rowena had a brownie service. She seemed like the type to automate her own housekeeping for more magic time. A few minutes later I felt someone tap me on the gloved hand, and turned around to find Rowena a foot away from me and the central table covered in food.

I frowned as I lowered my hands. "That was fast."

"As I... my 'theory' is the food is prepared elsewhere," Rowena said, continuing to avoid any direct reference or confirmation of the brownies.

My frown deepened. "And that works? That's not faerie food?"

Rowena shook her head. "It's normal food. From my larder. Perfectly safe."

I nodded hesitantly, then turned back to the food. "Well... thank you."

We sat down and bit in, and it turned out to be so good I was almost convinced in acquiring a brownie service of my own. Screw Mab somehow turning them into her spying service, for cooking this good it would be worth it.

"Wow. This is really nice," I said, louder than was strictly necessary.

There was a brief pause, and then Rowena rolled her eyes in a motion that didn't look entirely natural.

"Why do you travel by horse, anyway?" she asked. "The Ways around here are fairly safe."

"For regular wizards, sure," I said, biting into some chicken. "Regular wizards don't have the Winter Queen constantly stalking and tracking them."

Rowena frowned. "The Queen of Winter is hunting you?"

"Hunting's maybe not the right word, considering I haven't really run into any hunting parties lately." Red Cap notwithstanding, and even that was, honestly, not one I considered a serious attempt. "But there's taking risks, and tempting fate. I know that the minute I open a Way, Winter's going to know where I am, and I'm not willing to test myself against their might on their home ground."

"How is she tracking you, and why? Surely there are ways to get around such methods, I know some options myself-"

"I owe her a favor," I said before Rowena could get going. She cut off instantly. "Not really any way to get around that without paying it off."

"...that would do it," she said after a moment. "However did you end up owing a favor to the Winter Queen?"

"It's a long story that involves me being a dumbass in my youth and making bargains with beings I really shouldn't have dealt with," I said. "And then making things worse. That's why I don't travel the Ways, and why I'm not really willing to head out into the cold, dark night when I'm being hounded by the Queen of Air and Darkness."

Rowena frowned, slowly picking at her food, frown deepening as she did so. "Do you think it would pose a problem to the project?"

"I mean, it hasn't yet, and I don't really see how it could be a problem for the project, beyond removing me," I said.

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant. Parts of Faerie know about the project, according to Salazar. I can't believe the Winter Queen isn't one of those. What if she's saving the favor to use after we're successful, assuming we are?"

That made me pause. "That is scarily plausible," I said after a moment. "And frankly exactly what she'd do." I chewed my lip. "But why? The terms of our arrangement mean she can't directly force me to do something I wouldn't want. She could arrange circumstances, sure, but..."

"Would she even want to call in your favor?" Rowena asked.

"I mean, presumably," I said slowly, not seeing where she was going.

"But so long as that favor is there, she can track you, yes? Presumably has other power over you."

I nodded. "Definitely, yes."

"Say we build our school. Cover it with wards, hide it, make it secure. Couldn't she just bypass it all, if you were involved?"

"I mean, if I were keyed into the wards, or involved in their construction, then maybe? But she wouldn't be... part owner or founder or anything like that. She'd still have to operate under guest right if she came past the wards, since presumably we'd establish some kind of threshold, even if a weak one."

"But if she could, then why not her agents? What happens if she or they start making offers to students?" Rowena asked.

I paused. "I... I don't think it works like that."

"But are you sure?" she pressed.

"No," I said after a moment, shaking my head. "I don't think it's likely, or entirely possible. But, with her, I guess we can't rule it out." I set the knife down, which was all I had as Rowena didn't have forks, and sighed. "Stars and stones."

Rowena nervously drummed her fingers against her cup. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you, I just... it just came to me."

"No, no, you brought up a good point," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Just means I need to figure out some goddamn way of prompting her to call in her last favor." I frowned. "At least the upside there is that the moment I finish whatever task she sets, I'll be done with her completely."

"Really?" Rowena asked.

"Well, unless I willingly start dealing with Winter again, so, yes, completely," I said. "I've had enough of Winter for one lifetime. If it wasn't completely impractical, I'd suggest we set up our school in North Africa. Just completely avoid that entire half of Faerie."

Rowena adopted a thinking expression, sucking in her cheeks, pursing her lips, glancing up at the ceiling. "Could that work? We'd need a strong Portkey, and then there's all the Ways. No, no... but what if..."

I arched an eyebrow, and once it became apparent Rowena was busy plotting out the feasibility of a technically intercontinental method of pseudo-teleportation, left her to it.

Ten minutes later, she was still at it, and had progressed to using knife and meet as some rough approximation of quill and pen.

"That was meant to be a joke," I finally said.

"I get that," Rowena said distractedly, looking up at me for a moment. Then she stopped, blinked, looked down at her food, and after a brief pause resumed eating.

"So how did Helga recruit you for this?" I asked. "I mean, in my case I think she followed rumors, then we talked, and that was it."

"Oh, we knew each other before she even had the idea," she said. "Shortly after she finished her apprenticeship, I want to say a year..." She shook her head. "Around that. She came to my tower and asked for me to teach her."

"And you said yes?"

"I was bemused, and curious, and... maybe a little lonely," she said. "Then two years passed, and she left. We kept up contact through owls, she visited sometimes. I can't remember which of us had the actual initial idea for her Hogwarts, but she was the one that kept pushing it."

"What was the plan like back then? Before me and Salazar, I presume."

"To get official dispensation and secure help from interested wizards."

I chewed slowly for a bit. "So the same as now, just minus that first bit."

Rowena nodded. "And you? Did you really just agree to work with her at your first meeting?"

"She had a good idea, and I didn't exactly have anything else to do. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you did turn away the Council when... oh. That's why." She bit down on some chicken. "That makes sense now. I thought you were just a rebel."

"I doubt I'd be on good terms with them anyway," I said. Then I snapped my fingers. "Almost forgot. You don't happen to have some kind of automated quill do you?"

"In what sense?"

"Copying text from one book to another."

"Oh, yes, I have one... somewhere around here," she said, twisting in her seat. "Or upstairs. Around."

I nodded, then frowned slightly. "What other senses did you mean?"

"I also have a quill that takes my dictations."

"I've never seen you use it."

"I prefer handwriting in most instances," she admitted. "It helps me focus."

I nodded. "Can you actually spare the first quill?"

"Yes, of course. I'm not using at the moment and it isn't that difficult to program."

She didn't actually say program. But for all of you future American readers, far far into the future in the mythical time of computers you might never get to use, that's the best metaphor for what she said.

I think. It's not like I got computers either.

"Is there anything I should know about it?"

"You need to supply the ink and watch the page count, and... you know, why don't I just show you once we're done."

We finished eating a few minutes later, Rowena doing it rather quickly. She disappeared upstairs once she was done, and came back down a few minutes later, black feathered quill in hands. She hurriedly took an inkwell and a piece of parchment off the wall, and set everything down on the table. Or tried to; it was still pretty full with dishes and cups.

I closed my eyes and covered my ears for a few moments, and when I opened my eyes again the table was clear of tableware. Rowena had ripped the parchment in two and laid the pieces beside each other, touching at the edges, and then dipped her quill in the inkwell and scribbled something on one half before putting the inkwell a few inches above where they touched.

"Good." She dried off the quill using her fingers, leaving stains, and then turned to face me. "Now, the way you use this is fairly simple. You press the quill to the upper right corner of where you want to copy from, then the upper left corner of where you want to copy to, and then put it in an inkwell." She went through the process as she spoke, and when she let go the quill floated out over the piece of parchment on the right and started recreating the scribbles.

"Do you need this particular arrangement?" I asked, gesturing at the layout. "And what about turning pages?"

"Yes, and the quill does that itself. Just make sure to have the right number of pages, otherwise it's going to start writing on the table beneath, or the back of the book. And don't worry about drying either, it waits a little after reaching the end of a page."

"This is impressive," I said with a whistle. "Nice work."

"Thank you."

"What do I do if it runs out of energy. Does it run out?" I asked.

"It does, yes, and... I... suppose you would bring it back," she said slowly. "But it should be fine for at least a few months. Oh, and if it runs out of ink it just sits down."

"That's good. May I?"

"Oh, yes," she said, picking the quill up off the table - it had finished writing - and handing it. "Just don't break it while traveling."

"I'll make sure not to."

Rowena nodded and glanced out the window, then looked back at me. She stood there for a bit, almost chewing on her lip, before she said, "Well, good night."

"Good night," I said, then watched her go upstairs. Once she was gone, I turned to the furs, pulled one out from under the other, and laid it out like a rug. Then I took off my duster, laid it out over a chair, and lay down, using the other fur like a cover. It was still early, but extra sleep rarely hurt.

It was as I was lying there, trying to go to sleep, that I stopped to think, 'Hey, was she coming onto me?'

Then I fell asleep.