Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall squinted at the strange letter before her. It had arrived wrapped only with a piece of twine. But more confusing were its contents, written in a foreign, unrecognizable language.
She had already passed the letter around the Teacher’s Break Room, but none of them had been able to decipher it. So now she was on her way to the Headmaster’s office. Surely he would be able to make sense of it.
-
“I’m afraid I can’t make any sense of it.”
McGonagall resisted pinching the bridge of her nose in consternation, opting instead to ask, “What shall we do with it if we can’t read it, then?”
“Do you still have the owl that brought it?”
McGonagall nodded affirmative.
“Very well. Write a letter back requesting to meet them in person. If they can read our letter then all will be well. If not, then perhaps they will decided to visit either way.”
“And if they don’t?”
Dumbledore (for naturally, that is who the headmaster was) smiled. “Then perhaps we can simply follow the owl.”
-
“Dear Sir or Madame. I must make the most profuse apologies, but your letter has completely baffled the entire staff here at Hogwarts. If you don’t find it terribly inconvenient, would you be so kind as to come to the school in person where we might talk more plainly?
If this is amenable to you, please arrive at the front gate of Hogwarts at approximately seven twenty-one in the morning or evening (whichever is preferable). If you do not come to the castle, I will assume you either could not read this missive, or could not make the time. As such, if that event transpires, I shall make a visit to wherever you reside to speak with you personally. Thank you for your time and attention.
Sincerely, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.” Neridi took a deep breath before turning to look expectantly at Leurai.
After a moment of silence, Leurai nodded decidedly. “Ianric, use Mr. Morlen and go meet with this Dumbledore fellow tomorrow morning. Spin some pretty tales for us.”
The addressed high elf nodded back to him. “Of course.”
“I will not be sending backup, so if you get into a fight-”
“Oh please,” Ianric interrupted, “How likely is it that I would start a fight?”
Leurai tilted his head. “I never said you’d start it. But with a list of titles like that, this Dumbledore person has to be someone very important. If he’s on the lawful side, then if you slip up he’s sure to attack. If he’s on the unlawful side, well, he may not want competition.”
Ianric confidently ran a hand through his hair. “I won’t slip up.”
“Plan for the worst. This man is obviously a proficient Warlock and Sorceror, and probably a Wizard as well.” Leurai turned to the rest of the Circle. “The rest of you, divide yourselves into recon and defence. Best of luck.”
-
Professor McGonagall made her way down to the front gates of Hogwarts, at approximately 7:18 in the morning, prepared to wait for an hour before finally heading back up to the castle until that evening.
So it was a complete surprise for her when, right outside the gates, there waited a young man.
He had long black hair and light bronze skin, which looked slightly off (though McGonagall was sure it was just the morning light causing it to look odd). He was dressed in slightly worn clothes that would not have looked out of place in the year 600.
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He bowed to her as she approached, and proceeded to say something in a foreign language.
“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t speak your language. If you would follow me up to the castle, Professor Dumbledore will sort you out.” Of course, McGonagall didn’t expect him to understand her either, so she merely opened the gates and gestured for him to follow her, which he did.
As they walked, the man made occasional comments in what appeared to be multiple different languages, though it might have all been one. She understood none of it, and so responded only to acknowledge the speaking, the whole while cursing herself for not learning the Translation spell when she’d had the chance several years prior.
You see, the Translation spell was not a terribly difficult spell to learn, but it had to be verbally taught to you in particular circumstances, and those circumstances did not just happen all the time.
They made it up to Hogwarts proper and McGonagall began to lead him through the halls to Dumbledore’s office.
She didn’t know why he’d insisted on her leading the person to his office instead of him meeting them at the gate himself, but she suspected that he’d assumed the person wouldn’t come, and that he didn’t want to waste his time.
Now that they were indoors, McGonagall could see that his skin tone was definitely too gold to be natural.
When they came upon the moving gargoyle the man looked wary, as though it would jump up and attack them at any moment, though he didn’t seem otherwise alarmed by the Impossible Staircase.
McGonagall didn’t bother raising her hand to knock, and was shortly greeted by a cheery, “Come in, Professor McGonagall.”
She opened the door, letting the visitor enter the room before her.
“Headmaster, this is the gentleman who received our letter,” she said once the door had closed.
Dumbledore did an excellent job of not looking surprised, instead rising and bowing politely to their guest. “Welcome to my office, sir. I shall postpone the formalities for after I have cast the Translation spell.” He picked up his wand from where it rested on the desk and, moving very cautiously so as not to alarm the stranger, placed the tip of it against the man’s forehead. “Mentem Interpretari!”
The man took a step backwards as Dumbledore did this, looking moderately alarmed, but upon completion of the spell, Dumbledore put the wand back on the table calmly. “There. Can you understand what I’m saying now?”
“Why yes I can,” the man replied. “My name is Devanir Morlen. I take it you are Mr. Albus Dumbledore?”
“I am indeed.”
“Wonderful. Now on to business. I help run an orphanage, and a number of our children recently received letters from this establishment. We are not native to this area, so we don’t know what all is required. Would you be so kind as to fill me in?”
“Why certainly, Mr. Morlen, please have a seat and I shall endeavor to answer all your questions.” Dumbledore took his own seat behind his desk, as Morlen also sat.
“Before I start, would you care for a lemon drop?” Dumbledore offered.
“Oh, no thank you.”
“Very well. Where shall I begin?”
McGonagall stood by, wishing she knew what the young man, Mr. Morlen by Dumbledore’s words, was saying.
From the part of the conversation she had been able to understand, McGonagall got the impression that they would be hosting quite a few foreign students that year, which always made things more complicated.
“Pardon me, Headmaster, but do you require my presence any longer? I do have preparations for the coming schoolyear to finish.”
Dumbledore looked up at her and smiled. “Not at all, Professor McGonagall. By all means, carry on. I have everything well in hand.”
McGonagall nodded, exiting the office. This was going to be a long year.
-
Leurai paced back and forth restlessly. It had been several hours since Ianric had left for the Hogwarts place, and he was starting to get worried. He knew that things like this took a while, but should it have taken this long?
Just as he was thinking this, Delthy ran over with a smile on her face.
“He’s back. Everything's fine.”
Leurai did not sigh in relief, or run a hand through his hair, or do anything that would let Delthy know just how worried he’d been, though his pacing had probably done that already. Instead, he just nodded his thanks and followed her to the main clearing.
Ianric sat by the fire, carefully removing his disguise, while Malurall grilled him on what happened at the meeting.
“-he buy it?”
“Of course he bought it, I didn’t even have to try. Ah, Leurai!” Ianric waved to Leurai as he drew near. “Everything is set. Headmaster Dumbledore gave me a tour of the place, which took about a year and a half, but it looks like the perfect place to send the children. There’s a forest out back that they can train in even. We have to buy a bunch of stuff for them. He said that we could find it all in Hogsmeade, the little town that Delthy found.”
“Very well. Anything else?”
“A bunch of little stuff, but the one main thing is that we need to have the kids at the Hogsmeade ‘train station’ on the evening of the first day of school, which is in about a month.”
“Alright. Good work, Ianric, you’ll go out and get everything for the children tomorrow.”
“What if the townspeople don’t speak Common either?”
“Ah. Good point. I guess Neridi will have to go. Malurall, do you know where he is right now?”
The half-orc grunted. “Last I knew he was off scouting with Kurik.”
“When he gets back, fill him in. He’s got a new job.”