J.K. Rowling is everywhere. J.K. Rowling is behind you. Right now. Watching.

CHAPTER FOUR

A Candlelit Dinner

I dreamed of fire that night. Fire as a roaring beast, flaming jaws open wide to show red fangs and flickering tongue.

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Back pressed against the wall, legs shaking, I swallowed hard to keep dinner down. I tried to breath from my belly, deep breaths to keep the panic down. I felt as though someone was tightening an vice around my chest.

A half-dozen candles hovered above me. I'd broken away from the after-dinner crowd, trying to escape the flames burning above the party. They'd followed me.

There's something pathetic about a grown man scared of candle-flames. I know that. Were people staring? I didn't care.

Professor Isgar came over, his wand in hand. He pointed it at the candles above my head and gestured them away. ''Galilea sent me over,'' he said. ''We're getting you out of here before you pass out.''

He grabbed my arm. I was shaking so hard I probably couldn't have held on to him if he'd asked. That freezing darkness came down on me again, crashing down like a wave, and then we were outside Hogwarts in the cold night air.

Now I threw up, turning away from Isgar just in time.

Apparation had nothing to do with it.

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Hundreds of candles in long rows like burning soldiers in their ranks.

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The brunette was talking. ''You can't use magic? At all? Were you able to see past Muggle-repelling Charms before you came to Hogwarts?''

''Not sure. I suppose I must've been. I just never ran into them before.'' Were the candles dripping? No, that was sweat running down the back of my neck. Not wax.

''So, um, does anyone else hear that? It's not just me?''

Jezebel shifted a bit in her seat. ''I'm sorry, hear what?''

''The candles? You don't hear it? God I hope it's not like the talking campfire again. My shrink put me on clozapine after that.''

''Clothes a pin?'' Jezebel traded glances with the rich kid across the table. Oh lady, I though, if you think you're having a bad dinner, try sitting in my chair.

''My family had just died. And I was the right age for schizophrenia. Bad combination.'' This was not appropriate conversation over pudding. ''Ms. Rosier, I've read that name before. Are you related to the Rosiers of Riddle's Death Eaters?''

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I used to think about the smell of burning flesh a lot. In college I'd met anthropologists and learned that some Polynesian tribes had referred to human flesh as long pig. The meats are similar in taste. I'd wondered if my sister had smelled like roast pork.

I looked at the faces of the people around me. I must have spoken out loud.

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Hundreds of candles in long rows like burning soldiers in their ranks. I could hear the tiny hiss of their flames whispering above me.

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I suppose the soup must have been good. I couldn't taste it. The smell of burning beeswax filled my nose and throat. I tried to clear the taste away with a mouthful of chameleon wine, which couldn't decide if it wanted to be white or red.

The rich kid across the table was lecturing his companions. He kept glancing my way, clearly trying to get my attention. George Weasley had an entire product line based on the fact that most adult wizards or witches couldn't cast any of the Shielding Charms. This kid was going on about how rifles were useless against a Shielded wizard.

''A History of Magic goes on about that. Bagshot's understanding of infantry tactics stops with the Napoleonic Age. These days an infantry soldier can drop a grenade on you from nearly two hundred metres away, without having to see you. And your Killing Curse is worthless against an armed UAV or EATR.''

'''Eater'?'' The kid looked confused.

''A robot, um, automaton, powered by an engine that can burn biomass.''

Jezebel edged her chair away from me. Yeah, I wasn't getting her digits tonight. ''Biomass, Professor Hunter?''

''Plants, animal fat. Don't worry, their makers insist they're programmed not eat humans.''

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Somehow we made it down the stairs, following the faintly glowing bead of light that guided us to our chairs. Sweat beaded on my forehead and down the middle of my back. I breathed carefully, deeply, trying to smother the fear in my belly.

Galilea gave me an odd look from the far end of the table.

Finally the hostess and Professor Theobrosan made their way to their places. I reached out to pull the chair back for Jezebel Rosier. As soon as my hand touched the chair it slid back, then edged forward perfectly as she sat. My own chair pulled me to exactly the right distance from the table.

The woman in pink and white had watched as Jezebel and I were seated. She spoke to me. ''I'd heard a rumour that you weren't a wizard. But that must not be true if the seats work.''

''Yeah. It's true. A lot of Charmed items respond to perception. I can perceive magic. Like ghosts.'' No, I wasn't babbling at all.

Jezebel spoke up. ''Oh, you must be the rumoured Muggle professor. The whole Department is talking about you.''

So much for keeping it under wraps until Thursday. ''Yes. It's a great professional opportunity. An entire hidden society to study. It's like finding a group of backwoods Amish hiding in the Laurentian Highlands.''

Were those candles moving? Never mind Geoff. Ignore them. Pay attention to your dinner companion.

''We do have the radio,'' she said. ''We're not as isolated as all that.''

''I've seen the material your children study about the outside world. It's appalling.'' Dangerously close to politics, Geoff. Abort, abort! ''So how about those Holyhead Harpies, eh?''

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Hundreds of candles in long rows like burning soldiers in their ranks. I could hear the tiny hiss of their flames whispering above me. And the air full of the scent of wax like burning fat.

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I dreamed of fire. Fire as a roaring beast, flaming jaws open wide to show red fangs and flickering tongue. I dreamed of people screaming and the smell of burning hair.

It was not so much a dream as a memory. I'd been three, and our new neighbours had thrown a block party. They'd installed their gas barbecue themselves, and it was a miracle no one had been seriously hurt in the fire.

Sixteen years later those neighbours installed an even bigger grill. They killed my parents and sister.