Eiram was sleeping in her chair again, but this time she sort of knew it. She could still hear Trent, Moody, and her father's portrait discussing what to do about a Head of House for Slytherin. A fourth voice she supposed was another of the portraits was providing much additional commentary, or rather, shooting down every suggestion they entertained. Twiggy was apparently the only former Slytherin on the staff, however it was risky enough that he had recovered his position as Potions Master; far too much to return him to responsibility for the students who had been most familiar with him. The fourth voice, however, refused to consider any alternatives.

"If Severus is the only Slytherin you've got, then Severus it must be."

"Please, Phineas, Twiggy. And it's impossible."

"I refuse to address him by that ridiculous name, Trent, and there are none present who do not know perfectly well who he is. Do you honestly believe that I would choose Severus if there were any other choices to be had? The Half-Blood son of a Muggle buffoon to begin with, and now he's wearing skirts--and warpaint that would make a Pict run and hide! But he remains a Slytherin Half-Blood deviant and therefore the welfare of the House is his duty."

"My dear Phineas," said Dumbledore's portrait, "in times like these, as you know, we must, on occasion, set aside our personal priorities and seek extraordinary solutions to the difficulties with which we are faced."

"There is no difficulty, here, Albus," Phineas said. "Slytherin needs a Head of House, Severus is the sole Slytherin professor. Therefore Severus must recover his Headship."

"To do so would create unnecessary potential to compromise Twiggy's inscrutability," said Trent, decisively. "You may disagree on principle, Phineas, but at present it is more important that there be not the slightest suspicion that Twiggy is in fact Severus than that Slytherin have a Slytherin Head of House. Merlin knows nothing else at Hogwarts is particularly conventional this year."

"All the more reason the students need whatever stability can be provided them--especially the Slytherins."

"Phineas, I remind you that you are no longer Headmaster."

"Nor are you, Albus," Phineas returned gamely. "Even if Moody runs around in your clothes pretending that you are."

"I, however, do not overestimate my authority, nor do I mistake the need for my fine proxy to be such. You and I, as do all the former Headmasters, serve the current. And you acknowledged Trent along with the rest of us, so you must ultimately accept his decision."

They went on. Eiram tuned them out. Her more immediate concern was that her ex had apparently picked the lock to the Headmaster's office (or figured out how to get past the gargoyles, at any rate, or climbed in the window--whatever; he was there, and she didn't much care how he got there. She was dreaming, anyway). She pretended she was paying attention to the Slytherin Head Problem, but really all she could think of was that he was hovering over her shoulder. She could feel his cool breath stirring in her hair.

At least now her hair was clean.

He seemed to be waiting for her to turn and face him, but she couldn't, or the men and the portraits would notice he was there, and that would create quite a fuss, since this was supposed to be quite a private meeting after all. But surely he realized that.

Very softly, he touched her cheek.

Very abruptly, he dropped into her lap and clutched at her knee with what felt like talons.

Her eyes flew open. He was clutching at her knee with talons. He was also a very large snowy owl. The owl looked at her meaningfully.

"Hello, Owl," she said. While owls weren't generally in the habit of dropping into her lap, animals did in general like her quite well, and she supposed in a setting that involved domesticated owls, this must not be terribly out of the ordinary. And the owl was gorgeous.

"Never seen her do that before," said Moody, shattering whatever remained of the off-chance that the owl was her ex; if he had been an owl, it would have been a recent development. "She's usually drawing blood to get your attention."

The owl sidled further up Eiram's lap and pressed against her. Eiram almost automatically set her hand gently over the owl's shoulder, as she would have a cat in the same position.

"Hedwig is quite taken with you," her father's portrait said happily. "A good sign. She's Harry's owl, you know. Also she must have a letter for you or the gargoyles would not have let her in."

Oh. Right. Communication by owl. Minerva was going to send one to wake her up soon. Or maybe this was it. Sure enough, there was a scroll tied to Hedwig's leg. Eiram got it loose and unrolled it.

"For fuck's sake," she said, having read the note.

"You see, Albus, what happens when you allow your children to be raised by a single Muggle?" said Phineas.

Eiram, trying not to dislodge the owl, who had tucked her head under her wing, reached across Trent's desk to pass him the note.

"Fucking fuck!" said Trent, upon reading it.

"Oh dear," said Phineas.

"Whatever is it?" asked Dumbledore.

Trent read the note aloud. The room was silent for a moment.

"What," said Moody, at last, "does one-thousand eleventy-one mean?"