The desk was a disheveled mess as if Reginald had been sorting through his thought process. Walls of dark leather books surrounded us.

“Are you going to be telling me that this position is cursed, perhaps? Has everyone who has taken this position died a grisly death? Perhaps after only one year of service?” I said, in a dry monotone.

“No, nothing of the sort. He wasn’t anything like that, nor is there a curse on him,” Isis said.

“That’s some Hogwarts type shit,” Lawrence said.

Both of us were taken aback.

“Hogwarts? What is that?” I said.

Lawrence was nonplussed.

“That’s a magical school in a book about wizards and…. Have you read anything written in the past thirty years?” Lawrence said.

“My formal education ended in the 1840s,” I said. Back when magic was passed down from a master magician to one maybe two apprentices at a time, “I’ve picked up the newspaper from time to time to see what’s going on.”

My teacher gave me everything, but this was back in the days when black women were treated as lower than second class citizens. Everything was hidden and behind a codeword. It took me years to finish my apprenticeship, but it was well worth it. After I was done, I hunted down some of the biggest slavers for years until the American civil war made the nature of my work change.

“Ah. Well then maybe I can lend you my copy of Harry Potter?” Lawrence said,”There aren’t a lot of black characters in it but everyone here is a big fan.”

“We’ll talk after this,” I said, once again activating my soul sight.

Most magical humans could learn how to protect against a necromantic or psychic attack. Few were the ones that were born with the ability to wield those innately. Soul sight was my ability to look and see places where spirits were strong, and to look at people's souls, most usually to see if they had soul damage. Only necromancy could do soul damage, and it was very hard to heal from.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I mean the main character could be a stand-in for the everyman, he’s a normal human that just becomes a wizard and, well the Professor here, he was a big fan of it.”

The young student stopped in front of a row of books. I wasn’t familiar with any of them. I could kick myself for not paying attention to anything contemporary. Being a withdrawn shut-in had its advantages, one being that no one just dropped in to kill you.

Isis gave Lawrence a tired look and her shadow hissed a little.

“The professor's soul has left a mark here too. He spent a lot of time here. It’s faint, it’s been a couple of days, but he did spend some time here before… before his untimely demise,” I said.

I don’t know if Lawrence felt it, but a chill passed through the room and I felt a dog trying to bark. I looked at Isis’s shadow which was trying to get something out.

“The dean is on his way,” Isis announced nonchalantly,” he’s in a rush.”

A tweed jacket attached to a thin man rounded the corner and I could see him slowing down as he approached.

Gasping, he stood there for nearly a full minute looking at both of us.

“The cops… they’re coming,” he said.

“I’m going to make myself scarce,” Isis said with a stone face, then she brightened,” Tea tomorrow?”

“I’ll await your call,” I said.

Lawrence looked like he’d seen a ghost. When Isis completed her short teleportation spell, she ushered him through first. If there was one thing I’d learned, it’s never to talk to the police. I didn’t fear any man, woman, or child but unnecessary confrontation was not my beat at all.

“I suppose it makes sense that there is a magical law enforcement and magical laws, but I doubt that they would take kindly to my sort of magic and…” I said.

“Oh, they won’t care about that at all. They’re just terribly incompetent and I don’t want the wrong person to get blamed for this,” Dean Thomas said.

“How wonderfully prescient of you, Dean. I don't make a habit of getting blamed for much and as one of my clones could easily take the fall for me, and then spend a week in prison before withering away into a false death… well I don’t feel like I have a lot to fear,” I said.

He straightened his glasses, fixing his bow tie in a mirror I hadn’t noticed until now.

“Well, I expect that they will have a lot of questions for you. It’s not too late to back out now, but the job is yours if you want it,” he said.

He knew I had the right stuff. He wanted me more than I needed this, but being here, it was scratching an itch that I felt long had been dormant.