Rowling. Rowling Rowling, Rowling. Rooowliiiiing.

Rowling.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Interview I of a series:

Subject; Shibley NicMaeldun Scott (Deceased), Novice of the Sisters of Saint Cyprian at Hogwarts. Date; Sunday 3 September 2017. Place; 3rd Floor (?) East Wing, east side (?), Room 7A (Of 5).

''Ah were born by th' Hamhaig Balkway. Hawick, th' Sasunnach say. Mah fowk waur husbandmen thaur.''

Sister Shibley 'sat' across the table from me, giving every sign of reclining comfortably while she floated a half-inch above the chair. Of course she couldn't touch her glass of wine on the table, but I'd asked the House-Elves to bring her one anyway. Tea was long after Sister Shibley's era, and she didn't like the smell of it.

We were in my quarters, sharing wine and listening to a House-Elf rustle around in my flu. They'd taken to nesting there since I'd closed it off. The sounds of children playing in the school grounds came in through my closed windows.

''Did Hogwarts send owls then?''

''Och aye. But nae tae those born tae plain-fowk. Tae those a Master woods come frae th' skale. But mah mammy waur a drow-wife, an' Master Ross ay Saint Marys taught me th' drow-craft.''

Schooled by a lay-priest and then sent to a boarding school with students from all over Britain. What sounded to me like a backwoods accent marked her as one of the learned elite of her day. But some of the terms she used... ''Sorry, 'drow-wife'?''

''Witch, ye ill-learned Sasunnach.''

I probably did sound a bit like the English she'd known in her life. Many of the accents of England had changed heavily in the 18th and 19th Centuries, as the new bureaucracy and rising middle class tried to enforce Received Pronounciation on the general population.

''Your father knew his wife was a drow-wife? And that you were learning magic?''

''An' others amang his kin kent. But e'en 'en, it waur a danger.''

''How much threat were the Muggles, the plain-folk, against witches or wizards?''

''Mah mammy waur a drow-wife, an' kent hoo tae draw th' unspoken waters ur bless th' wuid fur force-fire. but she hud nae wain.'' Anger twisted Sister Shibley's freckled face. *'''Squib', they say noo. As thocht mah mammy waur nae true drow-wife. She coods see th' deid an' reid anes, but these ones - '' She jerked her chin in the general direction of outdoors, and the students there. ''They say yoo're nae true witch if ye dornt hae th' High Art, th' wain craft.'' Sister Shibley laughed. ''An' ur thaur sae mony ay us, 'at we can flin' th' Cunnin' aside? Mah kin waur husbandmen. Ah ken ye nae can breed a beest tae its ain withit harm. Thaur waur nae sae mony towheids nur sanguine folk while Ah lived.''

''There were fewer sanguinary types in your day?''

''Och aye. Thaur waur redheids, but nae sic' a stoatin host amang us. When we closed th' way tae th' Cunnin', we waur left wi' nane but near kin tae choose uir men ur wi'es frae.''

''When did you shut out the Cunning?''

''Och, jist efter th' traitur Laird ay Glenlyon led th' mudder at Glen Coe. An' thaur waur a stoatin quake at London, as God's punishment fur heresy.''

Right. Sister Shibley was a Catholic of the Late Middle Ages. Bagshot and Hogwarts, A History didn't say directly, but my sense was that the Wizarding community - Or what would become the Wizarding Community - had been staunchly Catholic. But the Early Modern Period just after Shibley's death saw massive changes. The Protestant Reformation, the early nationalist wars and the rise of nation-states, the Secession from Rome, the English Civil War, Restoration, the Glorious Revolution... Secrecy and Seclusion must have seemed like a good idea at the time.

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

''It waur th' year th' Sasunnach captured Sooth Berwick. Th' Prioress tauld th' centaurs she'd nae allaw heretics tae hide in th' Forbidden Forest - We didne caa it 'at. It was jist th' wuid oan th' holy sward at th' time.''

''Hogwarts. Haligswart?'' All those books of English place-names were paying off.

''Aye. It waur knoon fur its Genius Loci lang afair e'en th' castle waur haur.''

Every now and again she reminded me that I should not think of her as poorly educated. I had to think about Genius Loci for a few seconds: Spirit of a Place.

''So that was, what, the early Fourteen-Eighties?''

''Eighty-tae, Ah hink. But they keep changin' th' calendar oan me. Tois ur thee years afair Kin' Henry waur crowned.''

Well, I could look up the exact date later. ''Why did the Prioress call the centaurs heretics?''

''Och, they waur ay th' Eastern Kirk. Orthodox, ye ken. Th' Wizengamot lit them keep their faith when they cam, but th' Cooncil didne loch it. Sae they sent th' Reverend Mammy ay Saint Cyprians tae carry a message tae th' centaurs, demandin' they swear an oath tae th' Holy Faither ay Rome.''

Oh, no good could come of this. ''And what message did the centaurs send back?''

Sister Shibley shifted 'in' her seat. She drew her feet up under her and tucked the tunic of her habit around herself. All of this was done without the sound of cloth on upholstery.

''Their message?'' She tapped her belly. ''Tois arrows tae th' gut, frae clean athwart th' lang field. Och, those centaurs ur guid shots. 'En they burned th' Priory.''