Just then they heard someone coming up the stairwell. Moody leapt to his feet, wand at the ready. Trent set down the note from Harry and began paging through an appointment book.

"It's all right, Moody," he said. "The new Runes Master was scheduled to arrive today. That will be him."

"And a fine example he'll set for the students, arriving after term has started," said Phineas' portrait.

"There were some complications, Phineas," said Trent. "He had accepted a position elsewhere before I contacted him and was obliged to remain until he could be replaced. I assure you that he is most responsible. Moreover he is an outstanding scholar."

"Runes," Phineas sniffed. "Not good for much except scholarship. He won't have been a Slytherin."

"He did not attend Hogwarts at all," said Trent, who was clearly trying not to smile. "Like pretty much all the OCs in this story, he was raised a Muggle. Excepting, perhaps, Hajile the Hobbit."

"Speaking of," said Moody, "aren't he and his lot in a bit of a fix at the moment--along with Potter and his lot?"

"They'll figure it out," Trent said, shrugging. "It was all some poorly-planned scheme of Malfoy's anyway."

"Which never would have been executed were it not for Slytherin's lack of a proper Head of House," said Phineas.

"Enough, already," Trent told the portrait. "We shall address that as best we are able." He directed his gaze past Eiram to the entranceway and rose to his feet. "Good afternoon, Professor Black," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Black?" said Phineas, his eyes narrowing.

Black, thought Eiram, her throat closing. Still dreaming then. Black was her ex-boyfriend's surname.

"Thank you, Professor Ronzer," said Professor Black, whose voice sounded just like her ex-boyfriend's.

She did not turn around.

"Please," Trent said. "Join us."

Trent indicated an empty chair on the other side of Moony, which made it rather easy for Eiram to not have to look at him. She shrank behind Moony's profile, so he would be unable to look at her, either, and carefully stared at the portraits as he entered the office and took his seat. Albus' portrait smiled benignly at her. Phineas, she noticed, was gaping in horror at the newcomer.

"Black?" the portrait repeated.

"Diogenes Black," said Trent.

Her ex-boyfriend, then. Unless there were another Diogenes Black with the same voice. She wished she would stop dreaming about him. She was supposed to be dreaming about Twiggy.

Maybe her subconscious was just clinging to the one bit of unreality in the universe that remained unreal. After the last couple of days, there was very little to call impossible anymore; she needed some sort of stability.

"BLACK?" shrieked the portrait, jolting her out of her reverie.

For some reason, nothing seemed different, except that there was a long and rather uncomfortable silence.

"Black," Phineas finally said, again, with acute dignity, "as in the Noble and Most Pure House of?"

"Maybe it's best," said Trent. "if you check the tapestry at Grimmauld Place."

Phineas marched off, leaving his frame empty. He returned a few moments later with flared nostrils.

"Well, of course he's Sirius' son," he snapped. "since he couldn't just have the decency to be from some other Black family."

"How could he be Sirius' son?" asked Moody. "He can't be more than five or six years younger than Sirius."

"There was a Wormhole behind that curtain at the Ministry," said Albus' portrait. "He fell through time and space to San Francisco in 1970 or so and decided to stay there and maintain a low profile, lest the temptation to attempt to change history overwhelm him and he make the situation even worse by interfering. Apparently Bellatrix' Killing Curse knocked some sense into him at last."

"So Sirius is alive and…and…old and in California?" Moody's eye whirred madly. "Well, can't he come back to the Order now that he's dead here?"

"He's actually in Florida," said Diogenes. "Moved when he retired. But he's dead there, too; heart attack last month."

"Oh my god," said Eiram, startled into facing him. "Diogenes, I am so sorry."

"Eiram!" he said. "What are you...? How did you…?" He paused and shook his head. "You never told me you were a Witch."

"I only found out two days ago," she said. "You didn't tell me your father had died."

"Well how could I?" he said. "You would have cared and it would have been really hard to pretend it didn't mean anything to me. His dying words were that I should not have let you go, and I didn't want to find out he was right. He didn't tell me you were a Witch, either."

His dying words were what? Eiram had been unaware that Diogenes had even mentioned her existence to his parents.

"He did not tell you," said Albus, "because he was my Secret Keeper."

"You two know each other?" asked Trent.

Eiram decided to let Diogenes answer that one.

"We're friends," he said. "In Muggle Academia, we're in the same field of study, and it's a small world."

For the first time since Twiggy had knocked on her door, something had failed to surprise her even a little bit. Merlin be praised. Or whatever.

Friends. Right.

"Oh, well that's a wonderful coincidence," said Trent, looking relieved.

"Your mother?" asked Phineas.

"She is coping remarkably well," said Diogenes. "Thank you."

"I meant, who is she?" Phineas said, visibly bracing himself. "A Muggle?"

"Yes."

"She would have to be, wouldn't she?" Phineas muttered, and wandered back out of frame.

"How will this affect Harry?" Moody asked abruptly.

"Well," said Trent, "actually, for a change, it's got nothing to do with Harry."

"How can that be?" Moody demanded. "It turns out Sirius has a legitimate blood-son; wouldn't he be heir to the Black estate?"

"If we plot out a timeline from Sirius' perspective," said Trent, "which I think we must, since the estate was his to bestow, Harry had already inherited it some two years before Diogenes was even conceived. The moment Sirius died the first time, it quite legally passed to Harry. There were no clauses specifying that it would return to Sirius should his life be unforeseeably restored, nor did he seek to recover the estate from Harry. He never wanted it, anyway, and he undoubtedly would not have wanted it for his own children."

"From what he told me of the estate, and of the family obsession with pure blood, in his last days," said Diogenes, "I am glad he did not."

He would be glad, Eiram thought; it would have conflicted horribly enough with his social liberalism to discover he was the scion of a house that went by "Noble and Most Pure", but to discover that he was in possession of an estate, too? He probably would have given it to the custodians who cleaned the offices in his department.

"It has occurred to me," Phineas, reappearing in his portrait, said primly, "that my latest descendant might resolve the issue of Slytherin's need for a Head of House to everyone's satisfaction. Or, at least, to an acceptable approximation thereof."

"Phineas," said Trent, "you have anticipated me. I believe that Diogenes would be most suitable for this role."

"Well, the Sorting Hat will determine that," said Phineas.

"The Sorting Hat…" said Trent, musing.

"An outstanding idea, Phineas," said Albus.

"But what if he's not sorted into Slytherin?" Moody asked.

"He may very well not be," Phineas said, looking stern. "His father was, after all, a Gryffindor--and he was a Pureblood Black.

"Whatever House he would have been Sorted into, had he been a Hogwarts student," said Trent, "Diogenes is preferable to Twiggy as Head of Slytherin. And even if the Hat does find in him the qualities of a Gryffindor, it remains that since he never was one, he comes with no biases thereby."

"Just put the Hat on him," said Phineas, "and we shall see. Perhaps I shall be pleasantly surprised."

Trent stood and reached for an ancient peaked hat on a shelf above his desk. The hat was battered and much-mended, except for a great rip near the brim. Trent walked behind Diogenes, gently set the Hat on his head, and stepped back.

Everyone watched. No one breathed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat.

"I am turning in my grave," said Phineas.

"His loyalty will serve him well as Head of House," said Trent.

Loyalty, Eiram wondered sadly, to whom?

"Absolutely not," said Phineas. "No, no, and no. You cannot have a Hufflepuff Head of Slytherin."

"Phineas, please," said Trent. "We must."

"You must not," said the intransigent portrait. "What about her? Sort her."

"And if she proves a Hufflepuff as well?" asked Albus.

"She at least can be guided by Severus," Phineas said.

Eiram suddenly felt extremely unwell.

"But if Eiram were Head of Slytherin," said Trent, "Harry would be less likely to trust her."

"Nonsense," said Phineas. "She is Dumbledore's daughter. If anything, perhaps it would give that boy pause in his unreasonable hatred for Slytherin."

"An excellent point," said Albus.

"There are other considerations, however," said Trent. "And I would prefer that she not have responsibility of a House. So let us compromise: if she does prove a Hufflepuff, too, then the Headship will go to her. If she proves otherwise, then to Diogenes."

"How is that a compromise?" asked Phineas. "How is that even a logical arrangement of conditions? If anything, you should be arguing that if she is a Hufflepuff, there is no particular reason to choose her over Diogenes, and therefore only should she be Sorted into one of the other Houses would she be a more suitable Head of Slytherin."

"But I do not want her to be Head of Slytherin," Trent said, amicably, "and it's only out of respect for you that I'm providing an off-chance that she could be."

"You are most assuredly a Slytherin," said Phineas.

"I, however, am Headmaster, and not an option," Trent said. "So let's get this over with."

With that, he removed the Sorting Hat from Diogenes and walked past Moody to Eiram. He placed the Hat on her head.

Hmmm, said the Hat, privately, she gathered, as its voice was quite low, and no one around her was pricking their ears to make it out. This is difficult indeed. By rights, you should really be a Gryffindor, but that House has degenerated so much lately that Godric himself would renounce it... But where else? Not Hufflepuff, anyway…

While this was a relief, as she did not wish to be responsible for a House, she was somewhat put out by the implication that she lacked loyalty. If anything, she was too loyal to some who did not necessarily deserve it.

Just so, the Hat told her. Your loyalty is thus more of a liability than a quality. But, setting that aside, I have only two words for you: Twiggy and Diogenes

Not fair, she thought at the Hat.

Untrue, the Hat replied. Fair is exactly what I am.

Fine, she thought. "Not kind."

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted.

"Well, fuck," said Trent.

"Vindication is mine," said Phineas, cheerfully.

A new owl flew into the office and set down opposite Hedwig. It looked up at Eiram, a bit confused. She untied the scroll from its leg.

Dear Eiram,

I do hope you have had some rest. Your next class begins in ten minutes.

Yours,
Minerva

The new owl followed Hedwig's example and went to sleep on Eiram's lap.

"Please, Headmaster," she said to Trent, "May I cancel Defense Against the Dark Arts for the rest of the day?"

"Of course," he said. "Circumstances have forced upon us new matters that we must discuss immediately."

She managed yet again not to weep, but tears did well in her eyes. The stinging would keep her awake, anyway.