THIS! IS! ROWLIIIIIIIIIIIING!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Magic mirrors. They sound like a great idea but in practice they're just a huge pain in the ass. I'd selected something pretty similar to what I'd worn to the Ministry - Camel-brown pants, cream-coloured shirt with gold tones, green vest with thin camel and gold pinstriping, no tie this time. That all looked okay, but I wasn't sure if my boots and belt went with the outfit, or if their chunky gold buckles were too much. I checked from a few different angles, but had to give up when my reflection threw its hands in the air and walked out of sight.

''How's my hair, you tosser?'' My reflection stuck a hand back in the mirror-frame and gave me the finger.

Meetings, people trying to recruit me to teach computer literacy programs, debriefings, dealing with over-excited kids, wand-browsing, gift shopping, and now my mirror-image was giving me a hard time. I gave up and pulled on the camel tailcoat I'd bought with the pants. It would have to be good enough.

My little room at Hogwarts was still cluttered with boxes, even after I'd reorganized. I grabbed the tiny gift-wrapped package off a pile of boxes and made my way around the obstacle course - Boxes, chairs, tables, and finally the door. I don't own all that much stuff, but having it all packed makes it hard to get it out of the way. I locked the door behind me and set out in a generally Headmistress' Tower-ly direction.

By this time of the evening there were few students in the corridors. If they were old enough not to be in their House dorms after curfew, then they were old enough to be out on a Saturday night. I ran in to one boy who seemed a bit lost, and pointed him in the general direction of the Hufflepuff Sett: Downwards, ask the portraits, and follow the smells that seem to lead towards the kitchens. Seriously, if you worry too much about turns and doors and corridors Hogwarts will drive you mad. Just make an honest effort to get where you need to be and trust the castle to do the rest. This time the castle gave me what might have been a lovely view of the Quad, looking out from grand arched windows in the third floor Transfiguration Corridor. Unfortunately the sun sets early in northern Scotland and a light drizzle hid the moon.

Also, there are no windows on the north wall of the north-side Transfiguration Corridor, and if there were they wouldn't over look the Quad. Never mind. I made it to Galilea's tower in less time than usual. The gargoyle sneered as I mangled the password, but it let me through to the stairwell. The trip up seemed to take a little longer than usual.

The stone door slid aside and I entered a round room I'd never seen before. But I had no eyes for the room.

Galilea had left her hair loose. It spilled down across her shoulders, shining almost silver in the light. I could barely see the gold in it. I'd never seen her hair down before, and hadn't realized just how pale it was.

''You look amazing.'' I held out the little package I'd wrapped in silver paper. Muggle wrapping paper. The Wizarding paper I'd seen had moving pictures, or changing patterns, or cute singing animals and kids. It's distracting. ''Here. I found this for you in a little shop on Diagon Alley.''

''Geoffrey, thank you.'' While she looked over her gift I took a minute to look at her. Green silk ribbons came down across her shoulders and fell into a V-neckline, meeting as a bow between her breasts. The pale green ribbons continued out of the bow and around her chest, where they laced into the sides of her dress. They appeared to be holding the front and back pieces of her coral pink dress together. A gentle tug on those bows...

Galilea held the package up to her ear, then gave me a questioning look. ''Go ahead,'' I said. ''It's packed pretty tightly, and the clerk said it's pretty rugged.''

She shook it gently, then smiled. ''I believe I'll wait until after dinner. Sweets and prezzies go well together.''

She grabbed a pale green silk shawl and wrapped it around herself. Two silver chains hung from Galilea's pale shoulders. On one she wore her silver and jade Slytherin pendant. The end of the other disappeared into her cleavage. She reached to her cleavage and pulled on the long chain, pulling out her wand. She quickly unscrewed the wand's tip from the chain's pendant.

''Um...''

''Oh yes, once you get past the back pain they're very practical. I'm also carrying some Muggle cash and a small flask of gilly brandywine.''

''Right. Okay.'' I held my left arm out for her. Galilea wrapped her arm around mine and we Disapparated from her quarters.

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The dark pressure released us and we Apparated into the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. It was already dark this time of year, but I could still make out the scarlet and gold brickwork behind Neville's plants.

''I'm so glad they cleaned this place up,'' said Galilea, putting away her wand. ''Before Hannah took over it had become quite run-down. Long past the point of comfortably shabby. Almost as bad as the Hog's Head.''

''I like the Hog's Head,'' I protested, leading Galilea towards the door.

''Yes, and I also hear that you drink Old Aardvark firewhisky for the taste. Rubeus tells me he uses that stuff to strip rust from old metal.''

I shrugged. ''It's better than what I drank as a grad student.''

On a Saturday night the Cauldron was full of warmth and noise. The booths to our right were full, and on our left the regulars were at their stations along the bar. Hannah Longbottom worked in the middle the crowd, chatting with customers and keeping an eye on things. She saw us and came over, smiling as though she hadn't been on her feet all day and we weren't the who-knows-how-many-dozenth customers she'd greeted.

''Galilea, you look lovely. Has Geoffrey remembered to mention that yet?''

''I did.''

''Not precisely,'' said Galilea. ''But he did have a nicely stunned expression when he learned about wand pendants.''

Hannah gave me a look. ''They're more common than you'd think,'' she said. ''But they're really only practical if you have a short wand.''

''It's not the length that matters,'' said Galilea. ''It's the motion.''

'''Said the witch to the bishop','' Neville said as he came up to us. He carried a stack of folded bar-linens under one arm. ''Headmistress, Geoffrey. Ready for a nice evening, I see.''

''Not quite,'' I said. ''I hear the Cauldron has a public phone. I need to call a cab.''

''You cancelled the car rental?'' Asked Galilea.

''Yeah. I drove once in downtown London and hated it. I decided I didn't want to start the evening in a bad mood. It'll just be a lot more pleasant if we take a cab. Plus if there's someone else in the car with me, well...''

''You get distracted?''

''Little bit, yeah. Especially if they look as good as you.''

''That's better,'' said Hannah. ''Phone's up by the front door. Have a lovely evening, you two.'' She slipped back into the crowd. Neville watched her go.

''So Neville,'' I said. ''About Jezebel Rosier, do you have any idea - ''

Galilea held up a hand. ''One moment please Geoffrey. Neville, have you spoken with your friend Ron about this?''

''Oh yes, first thing after Geoffrey got back from meeting Jezebel.''

''Mm-hm. And Geoffrey, you've also spoken to Professor Fairbairn?''

''Well yes, but - ''

''And we had that meeting earlier.''

''Well yes - ''

''I believe we've all had enough of this for today. The matter is now in the hands of the Aurors.''

''The lady makes a good point,'' Neville said. ''Ron might be over-protective of Rose and a bit too willing to throw his weight around, but he does know his work. Go.''

We made our way to the front of the Cauldron, Galilea greeting a few witches as we passed through the crowd. Inside the pub's narrow entrance I found the phone, a modern push-button thing hooked to the wall.

''That's disappointing,'' I said. ''I wanted to see what your lot would do with a phone.''

''Do you have a mobile? I've only seen pictures.''

I pulled my cell phone - Mobile, as the English call it - out of my inside pocket and handed it to Galilea. ''Just don't make any calls. I haven't had a chance to change my carrier yet. We might as well just go outside and see if we can hail a cab.''

Galilea distractedly followed me through to the street. She played with my mobile as we went, only looking up to be sure she didn't walk into anyone. ''This is exciting,'' she said, poking at the screen. ''All these little pictures really do transfigure into things. They're a bit like tiny portraits.''

''Icons. We call the little pictures icons.'' I spotted a cab approaching and pushed my way through the Muggles to the curb. Galilea trailed behind me. I waved the cab down. ''The icons let you open apps.''

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''Seatbelt please, Miss.''

Galilea looked up, surprised. ''Oh yes. Of course.'' She handed my phone back to me and fumbled with her belt as we pulled away from the curb. While she tried to work out the buckle I gave the cabby the address.

''Ta, Miss. Dat addy, is dat de Gran Comprobar?'' You would have needed a very sharp knife to cut the driver's accent.

I gave the mobile back to Galilea. ''Yeah. Is it a popular place then?''

The driver chuckled. ''Where's yer accent, mate?''

I cleared my throat. ''Somewhere over the mid-Atlantic,'' I told her. ''It always slips after I've been here for a while.''

''Yis, yer not de fairst I've 'eard.'' She leaned hard on the horn. ''Bit son o' Anytime Annie! Side de way, yous bastard!''

Damn it, the plan was to show Galilea a nice quiet evening.

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''Your former lady friend is very pretty.'' Galilea handed the phone back to me after I finished paying the cabby. I went cheap on the tip. I was certain the woman had aimed for that old man in the crosswalk.

''My - Oh Christ, I should have deleted those pictures months ago.'' I blushed a bit. Those were not the kind of pictures you wanted anyone else to see. I gave Galilea my arm and we took our place in the short line by the door. We were a bit early for our reservations, but there didn't seem to be a lot of people ahead of us. I noticed a sign saying Under New Management and New Menu, which struck me as odd given that the place was maybe a month old.

''I didn't see anything too revealing, if that's what worries you.''

''No, it's just courtesy.'' We weren't too close to the couple ahead of us, and they weren't paying us any attention. ''It's really easy to copy and share Muggle images or video. Some guys turn into real assholes after a break-up, you know?''

''Ah, yes. I think I see the problem. Can you not erase your portraits?''

The line moved forward a bit. I kept half an eye on a trio of scruffy looking guys a few doors up from the restaurant. ''You can erase files on your own devices, but if someone has copied a file to their mobile or computer it's completely out of your control.''

''Your ex must have trusted - '' Galilea jumped a bit, putting her hand to her chest. Two of the three men swung into motion. One of them took the third guy down in one fluid motion while the other pulled a pair of cuffs out from his dirty denim jacket.

If you didn't know where she kept her wand, Galilea's gesture might have just looked like shock. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. ''Cops. Like Hit-Wizards. This is probably a drug bust.''

A quiet evening. Is that too much to ask for, London?

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The restaurant was narrow, and dark, and there were candles on the tables. While we waited to be seated Galilea leaned in close to me. ''Will you be all right with the candles, Geoffrey?''

''Sure. Hundreds of the damn things floating above my head? That's a problem. One or two candles on the table? Not so much.''

The place had about twice as many tables as I'd seen in the pictures on their website. The tables were packed, and there were more customers waiting by the bar. A young witch - No, young woman - in a short black skirt came up to greet us. ''D'you have reservations?''

I gave her my name. She glanced at the reservations screen. ''I have a seat by the kitchen, or you can wait by the bar.''

I bit back on 'I reserved a front seat days ago' and 'Do you not know how reservations work?' and glanced at Galilea. She was studying the little tablet the girl used to track reservations. ''Let's see the table,'' I said. ''Then we'll decide.''

''This way.'' She grabbed a couple of menus and started down the narrow aisle.

Please. God, for what this place cost you think they could afford some courtesy. Galilea didn't seem to mind. I noticed her studying the other customers, looking at their clothes.

Just past the last booth there was a short corridor leading to the kitchen. Backed up against that last booth was a tiny area with a table, divided from the corridor by a half-wall. Voices and cooking noises came through the kitchen door. Given that our other option was to sit at the bar, and that I didn't want to look too grouchy in front of my date, I decided to take it. The hostess lit the candle on the table and left.

Galilea sat first, and then I sat with by back to the booth near the little gap by the divider wall. There wasn't enough room for me to have offered to slide Galilea's seat out. The candle was at exactly the right height to block our view of each other. I reached to move it aside but the tiny flame flickered out.

They'd cheaped out on the candles. That did not bode well for the food.

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''Geoffrey?'' Her voice sounded a bit strained.

''Yes?''

''The exchange rate is still five to one, yes?''

''Yeah, but Muggle food costs more than Wizarding food. The storage and handling costs are a lot higher.''

''Oh. So this is... Usual?''

''Sort of. This place is at the high end for a London restaurant.''

''Oh. My.''

Yeah.

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''I came to Hogwarts just after Riddle and his thugs demolished the school. I was with the reconstruction team. Hogwarts needed skilled mentalists to restore the portraits, or to determine which had been damaged beyond restoration. Which was more than half of them, sadly. Charles Theobrosan came with me from the Department of Mysteries. Ghosts are his area of expertise.''

''Is that why he gets to keep stomping out the Riddle fragments when they pop up?''

Galilea sighed. ''Yes. Poor Tom Riddle is the most persistent ghost I've had the pleasure of encountering. I've never before heard of ghosts that could survive the Hallowlight Charm. It's just as well his personality is too damaged to be a threat to anyone.''

The Riddle fragments couldn't do much more than hiss at people. But they were flayed and broken things, with parts missing. The skinless husks seemed to be in constant pain, and constant rage, and they frightened children.

Galilea sloshed her wine around in her glass. ''I'd known of Minerva McGonagall by reputation, of course. We'd tried several times to recruit her for our Department. She is an extraordinary Transfigurist, certainly the top in her field. And a wonderful teacher. Before I'd met her I had struggled for nearly a decade and a half with the Animagi transformations. Under her tutelage I became an Animagus within a year.''

''A what?''

''An Animagus. Shapeshifter, or skinwalker, if you want the colloquial terms.''

''Oh, like a Metamagus?''

''Metamorphmagus. Not quite. An Animagus is limited to one form only, in my case - ''

''Llwyd blaidd?'' I guessed.

''Yes. How on Earth did you know?''

I shrugged. ''Idris is Welsh. I asked him what the password meant. And when you started talking about being a skinwalker... Well, it's obvious.''

''How...'' I would describe the look Galilea gave me as 'exasperated'. ''How do you manage to be so quick yet so... Inattentive at the same time?''

''Beats me. If you figure it out there's a T'ai Chi master who would like the answer.''

''Well. I'd worked on reconstruction for a few months, when Minerva approached me with a sticky problem regarding warding the intentional aspects of approach into the quintessential volume of Hogwarts' fractional oh dear there's that look again. I'm sorry, you've adjusted so well so quickly that I forget how little background you actually have with magic.''

''How much of that would have flown over the head of the average Seventh Year with a couple of NEWTS?''

''About two-thirds. Let's just say that Minerva and I worked on the new wards for Hogwarts - Oh, speaking of which, and I can't emphasize this enough, if you ever decide to get clever with the Floo Network at Hogwarts - ''

I shuddered.

''Yes, well on the off chance that you do so decide, don't. The Floo Wards were designed by Neville, and he was the top man in the Aurors Office when it came to the Floo Network. Even Professor Fairbairn is frightened of what Neville has set up.''

Galilea paused. ''Where in the world was I going with this? Oh yes, after I'd worked with Minerva a bit, she offered me the post of Charms Professor.'' She tapped the thin silver chain that led down to her cleavage. ''Spruce heartwood, six inches, with a unicorn hair core. I'm quite good with Charms.''

Galilea settled back in her seat. ''Professor Flitwick retired as Deputy Headmaster in 2004. Minerva offered Professor Sinistra the post out of respect for her seniority, but Aurora had no interest in all that paperwork. The Board hemmed and hawed over my appointment for a year, worrying about my relative lack of experience at Hogwarts. But they gave in eventually, and Minerva started thinking about retirement a bit later. When she finally retired in 2013 the Board attempted to over-rule Minerva's decision and offered Neville the position of Headmaster, politics you know, but he told them where to go with that. Some days I think he had the right idea, particularly those days when my office is full of crying children.''

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''Ordinary? I think you look quite handsome. Dashing.''

I scoffed. ''Close your eyes. Good. Now, without opening them, describe me.''

I saw her eyes flutter under their lids as she thought. ''You have brown hair, a bit longish, a small goatee with a bit of ginger in it... Mm, you're five foot eleven, and I'd say eleven stone.''

''I'm five foot nine, but thanks.'' She was a little low on the weight, but I have surprisingly high bone density. I don't look 162 pounds. ''And what else?''

''Well...'' She smiled a bit crookedly under her closed eyes. ''You have excellent taste in clothes, and look good in brown and green. They go well with your eyes.''

She opened her eyes and looked right into mine. ''But Geoffrey, you carry yourself well.''

She looked around our little table, half-hidden behind the booth and workspace. Reaching into her cleavage Galilea pulled out her wand and unscrewed it from the silver chain. She took one last look to be sure we were alone. ''Warn me if anyone approaches.''

I watched her while keeping an eye out for the staff. No one came by. Galilea held the silver tip of her wand to the bridge of her nose. The wand-tip glimmered, and the glimmer spread like spider webs casting themselves over her face. The webs drew themselves together, taking on the look of a mask over her eyes and cheeks. The shape of the eyes and nose had a canine cast to them, like a wolfish carnival mask.

Galilea took the mask down from her face and looked over her shoulder. ''Lean forward, please. There's something I'd like you to see.''

Galilea held the mask to my face. That close, under that silver light of the mask, I could see a fine green filigree worked into the pale wood. Green leaves and white berries. Mistletoe.

And I saw

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myself.

Not many people like the way their own voice sounds in a recording. We hear ourselves through bone, through the vibrations in our skull, and that carries more depth than the air that other people hear us through.

Seeing yourself through another's perceptions is like hearing yourself through a different medium. Different, in ways you don't expect. But seeing yourself through the eyes of the other sex is far more flattering than you'd expect.

It's odd. Other people judge us far less harshly than we judge ourselves.

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''Yes, I saw where you were looking. And to tell the truth, I hadn't realized quite how generous the view is in that top. I thought it covered a bit more.''

''I noticed you haven't worn it in a few days.''

''And never while there are students at Hogwarts. But I also noticed something else while I was prying in your mind. And to be honest...'' She smiled a bit, and looked slightly embarrassed. ''I don't normally flirt so outrageously, but I so rarely meet men who think 'lethal bitch' is a compliment.''

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''My grandmother Moira Puttock wrote down the stories her parents, Lyra and Lucas Wyvern and oh Hell 'Wyvern', I really am an idiot. That First Year and I must be related, it's not like Wyvern is a common name. Somehow I've got to track down just how many of my mother's ancestors were squibs. It's starting to sound like there was a whole community of them out by St. Mary's. Anyway, Nana Puttock wrote down the stories her parents told her. My favourite was the story about the three brothers and the door to death's land. Do you know that one?''

''Mm.'' Galilea sipped her wine, looking thoughtful. ''During my career as an Unspeakable - That's the nickname for the employees at the Department of Ministry. During my career as an Unspeakable, I saw a great many truths that are presumed to be myths. Except for one or two details, the tale of the Brothers Three and the Door to Death's Land is... Closer to truth than most people would be comfortable knowing. Please don't ask me for those details.''

I thought about that for a moment. I'd sworn oaths, signed confidentiality forms, and assumed various professional obligations over the years. I knew a lot of stuff I couldn't discuss, even if little of it was really interesting and even less was important. But I thought of A History Of Magic and Bagshot's Hogwarts, A History, and some of the rumours and folkore they'd mentioned, and how that might fit with the stories I'd heard as a child. ''So Salazar didn't go back to the Fenlands after his death? He moved to just outside Westminster?''

Galilea looked thoughtful again. ''Yes, I may answer that. He did indeed. It's confirmed by the records of the old White Worm pub, where Salazar had quite the outstanding tab at the time of his death. If you know where to look, and have the mind to see it, there is a plaque on the site where he supposedly built his house. By amazing coincidence it is over the very oldest sections of the Department of Mysteries.''

''Huh. And the Peverell Brothers actually studied with Salazar Slytherin?''

''I may - What is that lovely Muggle phrase? I may neither confirm nor deny that the Peverell Brothers learned their art in the workshop of Salazar Slytherin. Nor may I confirm or deny the old myth that they encountered death in his home.''

There are ways around confidentiality agreements. I sipped thoughtfully on sour wine.

''Do you speak any Basque, Geoffrey?''

''Basque? No. French, Metis French, German, a few Michif phrases, and a bit of Australian. I can recognize some words in Latin, Greek, and Russian. That's about it.''

''Well, I'm not convinced that Salazar Slytherin spoke more than a few phrases in his supposed mother-tongue. Salazar is a Basque word, now found as a surname.''

''Antonio Salazar, dictator of Portugal for something like forty years.''

''Yes, I learned about him while researching Salazar's names. 'Slytherin' is neither Basque nor Old English. Nor is it any sort of French, Latin, or Greek. But in its oldest forms, in the records of Hogwarts or the Wizengamot, it is recorded as Salazar of Salazarina, or alternatively Salazurinhe or Salazurinye. In Basque the element 'Sala' means hall, while 'Zurinye' is a woman's name meaning white.''

I thought about that for a few seconds. Salazurinye to slazarine to Slytherin. ''He was probably born in England then, or just before his family left the Basque lands. Typical immigrant pattern, give the children a name that will remind them of the old country. My family wasn't all that different. And he or someone else probably named their home - Their hall - after a woman named Zurinye. Salazar of White... Oh.''

''Salazar of White Hall.'' Galilea smiled. ''And to think, people believe old Salazar vanished from history when he left Hogwarts.''

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I heard footsteps and glanced up. A dark-haired woman stood by the gap between the divider and the booth. She wore a dark cloak and I thought nothing of it until she reached under her cloak and pulled out a polished stick. And she pointed it at Galilea.