“There’s only one way to settle this. We must have a trial run.” I hold up a hand when the three women waver out of focus. They are nervous, for sure. “But before we do that, I have another question. Did H speak with any of you yesterday?”
This time Bartie steps forward, “Yes, Ms Natalie, he did. He came to me first, since I’m the Head of Eternal Affairs.”
I freeze, waiting to hear the outcome of their discussion, but Bartie says nothing else. “So? What happened? Did he explain why we need to tell Harry?”
Nodding slowly, Bartie looks to his fellow Eternals, looking them each in the eye to ensure they are all still in agreement with whatever decision he has made. “These are strange times, Ms Natalie. Strange and difficult, none of us here have ever experienced an issue with the magic. It was not an easy decision for any of us, the risk is so great, but….” His voice trails off.
“What?!?!?! Just spit it out, Bartie!” My frustration seeps into my voice. So much for starting my day feeling rested and relaxed.
Catherine Morgan glares at Bartie before stepping forward to finish his thought, “Yes, my dear. The answer is yes, you may tell Harry. We will help you. That’s partially why we were in here practicing this morning. Saying the words alone may not convince Harry you are telling the truth. We can show her that the magic isn’t all in your imagination.”
Hand on chest, I close my eyes in relief. “Oh, thank you, thank you all so much. I know we won’t regret this decision. We need all the help we can get if we hope to solve the mystery of what is wrong with the magical border.”
Looking around the room, everyone’s expressions are matching my own, hopeful grins all in a row.
“If it is okay, I’ll see if Harry is in her office. I can offer to introduce her to a few of our actors. I’m sure she’ll find time to step down the hall.” I wave at the group, “Do whatever it is you need to do to, um, solidify yourselves while I’m out. I’ll be back in a flash.”
❖
It doesn’t take much convincing to get Harry to step away from her desk. I barely had the word actor out of my mouth before she jumped to her feet.
As we walk to my office, she smooths down the front of her dress. “Do I look all right, Nat? Is my hair a mess? Maybe I should pop into the loo first. I’ve never met real actors and actresses before.”
I stop myself from flinching, feeling guilty I’m not being completely honest with her. But if she’s nervous now, how would she feel if she knew she was off to meet a bunch of ghosts? I offer soothing words, sticking as close to the truth as possible. “You’re fine, Harry. These people aren’t superstars. They are regular people, like you and me. In fact, you’ll think they’ve been working here at the college for years and years.”
I open the door of my office, double-checking where everyone is standing so I can do the introductions. I might as well not have bothered as Harry bustles past me, straight towards Bartie. When I see her extending a hand, I realise I’d better act fast or she’ll stumble on the truth before we can tell her properly.
“Harry, wait. You can’t shake hands.”
Harry pulls up short, glancing back at me. “Why ever not?”
“I’ll explain in a moment, why don’t you take a seat in the chair over there first.”
She quickly pulls her hand back and drops it down to her side. Looking around in confusion, Harry looks over at me, “One man and one woman, is that enough, dear? I thought you had more people coming.”
So did I. Looks like the trio of young ghosts were right.
Harry leans forward, closely eyeing Catherine Morgan. “Blimey, you’re the spitting image of Ms Morgan. I’d know that face anywhere after all these years passing her portrait in the hallway. How did you pull that off?”
“That’s what we need to talk to you about, Harry,” I say as I slide into the seat across from her. I’d thought hard this morning about the best way to broach the conversation with Harry and had decided to start with my beginnings at Oxford. “Did I ever tell you that my grandfather worked at Oxford?”
Harry shakes her head, mystified by this turn in the conversation.
“He was a librarian at one of the other colleges. He worked here for forty-two years before he retired. My dad grew up in Oxford and was desperate to get out, trying his luck in the bright lights of London. By the time I was born, my grandfather had moved out of Oxford and closer to us in London.”
“That’s a lovely story, dear, but why are you telling it to me now?” Harry asks.
“Well, when I was little, my grandfather used to tell me stories about an alternate version of Oxford. One which was full of magical creatures, ghosts, talking portraits, books and statues. He was the main character, always accompanied by his best magical mate. A little wyvern called Humphrey. Or… as we know him… H.”
“H?” Harry’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Like the cat?”
“Not a cat, Harry. A wyvern, albeit a small wyvern. A miniature dragon-like creature who looked like an innocent cat to everyone else. But to those of us who have the magic of Oxford running through our veins, we can see him for what he really is.”
Rising from my chair, I cross over to stand beside Ms Morgan. “This isn’t an actress. This is Catherine Morgan. My grandfather’s stories were real. Magic is real, at least here within the confines of the university. Scholars, staff and donors may pass away,
