"He… his eyes just have a condition."
"I can tell the difference between crying and a medical condition."
"…"
Fors looped an arm around her with a grin. "All right, all right. Congratulations on getting out — we have to celebrate properly tonight!"
Hugh shook her head. "Oh, come off it."
"What's the matter?"
Hugh ran a hand through her slightly dishevelled hair. "Glaint got involved, didn't he?"
"He did. He found a barrister. Turns out he wasn't needed after all."
"Still — we owe him for the effort."
Fors lit a cigarette. "That's true. Though I already have a way to repay the favour."
"Oh?"
"I promised to bring Glaint and his noble lady friend to one of Mr. A's gatherings." She took a drag. "That's a golden ticket into the Extraordinary world. Surely that's payment enough."
"Fair enough, I suppose."
Fors suddenly bumped Hugh lightly with her shoulder. "So — what do you actually think of Sherman?"
Hugh's expression immediately went blank. "Fors… are you really this bored? Have you finished your novel?"
"Ha — I'm doing research for it right now! Seriously, Hugh, you should think this over. It's not often someone takes a shine to your type."
"???"
"What do you mean, 'my type'? Are you calling me short by way of a detour?"
"What? That's entirely your own interpretation!"
Hugh's temper snapped. She jumped up and thumped Fors on the shoulder.
…
The Caesar Restaurant.
When Vincent returned, he found Stephen — who should by rights have already gone to see Barrister Dring — sitting at a table outside the restaurant, working his way through an enormous spread of food with great enthusiasm.
He'd swapped his usual pirate's attire for a well-cut, fitted suit, which made him look considerably more presentable. It did nothing, however, to conceal the incorrigibly roguish air he carried.
Several nearby diners kept glancing over, clearly intrigued by the sight of this particular individual in such an establishment.
And yet — according to Bernadette's notes — this man was a Leon nobleman by birth, even held a barony. How he'd ended up a pirate was entirely beyond Vincent's understanding.
Vincent walked over and sat across from him. "You're done already?"
Stephen hastily dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Not yet. It was just an interview for now. Formally starts tomorrow."
"Did they say what the work involves?"
"For now — assistant. That's all."
He lowered his voice. "Your Majesty, do you know what this fellow actually is? I'd hate to think I'm going to be a blood sacrifice for some dark ritual, only for you to permanently lose a loyal subordinate."
"Mm. In that case, I'll have Klautz keep an eye on things from the shadows."
Stephen opened his mouth. "Ah? That's — really not necessary."
"Stephen. Do you know if anyone out at sea right now — any person or faction — is in urgent need of something? Anything I might be able to broker for them?"
A puzzled look crossed his face. He thought about it. "That… I'd have to go and ask around. The Dawn has always kept its distance from the other powers at sea. That's always been your standing order."
Was Bernadette really that much of a lone wolf?
Back in her room, Vincent wasted no time shedding the outer coat and unwrapping the chest binding. The oppressive, suffocating tightness that had been building all day released all at once.
What a relief.
He sprawled across the sofa, gave a long, satisfied stretch, and picked up the book he'd set aside. He hadn't forgotten — there was a pile of material he still needed to work through.
As evening settled in, there was a knock at the door. Vivienne.
"Come in."
"Your Majesty — the person who's been collecting the Emperor's diary has appeared again. Shall I have her detained?"
Vincent thought for a moment. Bernadette's notes hadn't mentioned this at all, so he gave a mild nod. "Use your own judgement."
"Understood."
…
The world of Harry Potter.
Three days had passed since the return from Diagon Alley.
For most of that time, Bernadette had done little except read. At the very beginning she had spent a concentrated stretch practising magic with both wands; after that, books occupied almost every waking hour.
She had started with Magical Theory — a text from the eighteenth century that explored speculation on the origins of wizards and magic. After drawing on a substantial body of field research and scholarly inquiry, the author had put forward three hypotheses:
The first proposed that magic derived from humanity's ancient study of magical creatures. Just as only beasts that carry magical creature lineage can manifest extraordinary abilities, so too only those with wizarding blood can work magic.
The second held that wizards were descendants of legendary divine beings. Gods were born with tremendous power, and Cernunnos — the ancient Celtic god of magic and wisdom — was said to be the first to bring magic to humankind. The book also entertained the possibility that the source might lie with Egyptian or Greek deities instead.
The third hypothesis was linked to the first: perhaps wizards were themselves a kind of magical creature. If so, it followed naturally that they would possess extraordinary abilities of their own.
Bernadette couldn't determine which of the three held the most merit. What she could say was that none of them came close to explaining her own situation. Her body was unambiguously that of a wizard — only a different soul now inhabited it, and that was apparently sufficient to lock out the magic entirely.
In a certain sense, she supposed, she was a misfire.
A book called Modern Studies in Magical Development stated plainly that magic was, at its core, the power of emotion. Emotion arose from the mind, and the mind from the soul — therefore, wizards with stronger souls generally commanded stronger magic.
The problem was that Bernadette, as a Sequence 3 Clairvoyant, was virtually certain her soul outstripped every other soul in this world. So why was she unable to use magic at all?
After working through seven or eight related texts, she could only conclude that it came down to a simple difference in the rules governing different worlds.
She couldn't help feeling a quiet disappointment.
Part of what had made the prospect of crossing into another world so intriguing, from the start, was the idea of borrowing from this world's system of power and carrying it back to her own. Magic, while perhaps far less potent in raw force than Extraordinary abilities, was extraordinary in its versatility. In range and scope, it could plausibly cover most of what was achievable across all twenty-two pathways.
If she could reconstruct those capabilities in her own world and reinforce them with the sheer power of Extraordinary abilities, it might amount to something like holding twenty-two pathways at once. But with magic currently beyond her reach, observation and guesswork alone were unlikely to get her there.
At least the Lumos Charm existed. It was the last thin thread of hope she still had.
Under Bernadette's influence, Harry had taken to quietly reading whenever he came by — which, in truth, he didn't enjoy in the least. But after hearing her repeat "knowledge is the greatest treasure humanity possesses" enough times, he had steeled himself and worked his way from children's primers all the way up to first-year Hogwarts textbooks, and had since started trying to teach himself from The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1.
The results had been less than encouraging.
"Mr. Vincent."
Harry looked up from the page. "Why is it that I've been practising for two whole days exactly as the book says, and I still can't cast a single spell?"
Bernadette looked up slowly: Yes. That question is very much on my mind as well.
To be continued…