Rowena's Quill

Sophie had met and fallen in love with Rowan Rockrimmon once before. It had the summer she was fifteen, one year after her father's death, and she and Mother were staying at Lorelei's By the Sea on holiday. Rowan had been there, too, but only for one month. Still, it was enough time for Sophie to fall in love.

She knew there were people who would call it a crush, or worse, a girl yearning for a father substitute. That was wrong. If anyone filled that role in her life, it was Professor Dumbledore. But it was true that her father's death was what caused her to approach Rowan. She had been desperate to learn about the Next Phase, and who better to teach her than an Unspeakable? Generally, Unspeakables didn't share much of what they knew, but he did share with her, and in the most caring and gentle way. She would love him forever for it. But she was fifteen and he was twenty-five, so it was a one-sided love from afar.

In the guilelessness of youth, she probably revealed much more of herself than she should have. She had shared her deepest thoughts with him, partly in a quest for knowledge, but partly because she wanted to show off how clever she was. The recollection embarrassed her now. Boasting was a loathsome trait, and the insights of a fifteen-year-old girl would necessarily sound shallow and immature to a fully-qualified wizard. Yet she could not erase the memory of one moonlit night by the shore when he had called her profound. How she cherished that moment!

She wondered if he remembered it. It seemed unlikely. But she did believe that he meant what he said, even if all he saw back then was potential and not actual wisdom. Now she had the mind of a grown woman, and she was getting a second chance. It was a dream come true. Seeing him at Slughorn's party brought back all the old feelings. Her mind had matured, but her heart was unchanged. She fell in love with him all over again, and best of all, he hadn't sought the company of anyone else all night.

Now she was back in London in the home where she was raised, getting ready for their first date. She had never been so grateful for Pudders, her mother's house elf, as she sat pulling tangles out of her hair. Even with elf magic, it hurt, but the mirror told her the effect was well worth it.

"What I don't understand, miss," said Pudders when she had finished, "is why you don't put your own powers to work on it yourself."

"I forget," Sophie said plainly.

The doorbell, a stone bird which came to life with the touch of a wand, squawked.

"That's him! Oh, Pudders, how do I -" but before she could finish the question, Pudders had already gone to the door. Sophie stood up when she saw him, just as she would have for any professor or elder. She respected him for his knowledge and she wanted him to know it.

"Good evening," he said. "Are you ready?"

Sophie drew in breath as she took in his appearance. He was wearing a bowler hat like the Muggle men and a black fur-trimmed cloak like the wizards of Northern Europe. It was an unusual combination, but he made it look elegant. Her voice failed her. She, who was fluent in so many languages, was speechless. She nodded.

"Good. Do you have a nice, warm cloak? I hope you fancy an evening outdoors."

"Outdoors? I mean, yes, I have one. Oh, Pudders, would you?"

Pudders brought her warmest cloak, fur-trimmed like his, but white. Sophie wondered if with their opposite coloring, they complemented each other or clashed.

"Good night, Mother," she called as they walked out.

"Shall I warm up your robes for you?" asked Rowan.

Before she could answer, he waved his wand over her, and said, "Caliente." Her cloak was toasty warm.

"Let's begin at Diagon Alley, shall we?" He apparated and she followed. Because it was such a cold night, the usually lively street was almost empty. The Leaky Cauldron, however, was filled to capacity. She knew it could expand to fit them, but she'd been hoping for more privacy.

"Have you been to Muggle London much?" asked Rowan, walking past the pub without giving it a glance.

"Hardly at all," said Sophie, intrigued by whatever was awaiting her.

"Well, I spend quite a lot of my leisure time amongst Muggles. It makes keeping Department secrets that much easier. Nobody bothers me for answers when they don't know I've got any."

"Being an Unspeakable has its drawbacks, then," said Sophie, "honorable as it is."

"No, it's not the life for everybody," he said gravely. Sophie wondered if he was telling her this as a warning, and then she chastised herself for assuming too much too quickly. Rowan, meanwhile, was smiling again, and when the reached the brick wall that would lead them out of Diagon Alley, he conjured two pairs of boots with blades on their soles.

"What are these for?" Sophie asked as he handed her the smaller pair.

"They're called skates. Muggles use them to glide over ice."

Sophie examined the thin, silvery blades. "How is that possible without magic?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea. I've put a balancing charm on these. I've never actually done it before, either, but I've always wanted to try."

Sophie giggled as they crossed through the brick wall.

"Is the cloak warm enough for you?" he asked.

"Yes . . .very . . .thank you."

They walked on through the streets that were almost as empty as Diagon Alley, passing only a few Muggles, most of whom ignored them, though some stared at their cloaks and sniffed, "Tourists!"

"From closer and yet further than you think!" said Rowan, though Sophie was the only one who heard him. She laughed.

They reached what Rowan called an "ice rink," which was a sort of ballroom floor made of ice. The Muggles, wearing boots like theirs, glided in circles around the rink, mostly as couples. Some were as graceful as thestrals in flight, but others looked to be clinging to their partners for dear life. Sophie was grateful for Rowan's balancing charm.

Their first few circles around the ice were exhilarating. Skating really was a lot like flying, but not quite as fast-paced, which suited Sophie just fine. She was never much of a flyer, but she did remember Rowan on the Quidditch pitch that summer at Lorelei's.

"This is fun!" she cried, and for the first few rounds, all they spoke about was the novelty of skating. After they had gotten used to it, Rowan asked, "How was your first term teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Wonderful, mostly. I did have one upsetting experience, though. Something very valuable was taken from me, though it returned itself to me shortly afterward."

"Interesting enchantment."

"Isn't it? And I wasn't even aware of it. My quill had never gone missing before. I was very lucky." In a serious tone, she added, "I haven't told my mother about this incident, so please don't mention it when we get home."

"I can keep a secret," he said with a wry smile.

She felt like the world's biggest fool. Had she forgotten to whom she was speaking? He kept the secrets of the beyond, and here she had made such an issue of this inconsequential thing.

He must have noticed her change in mood because he said, "Please don't look that way. I like putting the weight of the Department behind me. That's why we're here." He took her hand in his, and they continued skating in circles, just like all the Muggle couples around them. His touch was electrifying.

"Do you remember that game you used to play at Lorelei's?"

"Rack 'n Rune? I practically grew up on it."

"I'm sure you'll beat me now as then, but I'd like to play you sometime."

"With pleasure."

She slid a little, but Rowan grabbed hold of her. "Oh, my. I didn't conjure these skates to last permanently, just in case we didn't like skating. The balancing charm is wearing off, I'm afraid."

"I don't mind," she said, which was certainly the truth. Being held by him made her feel warm all over, much warmer than her bewitched clothing. Sophie would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of the evening like that, but the charm on Rowan's skates was wearing off, too, and he was also beginning to slide around ungainfully. The two of them fell, one on top of the other, onto the cold hard ice. Except for the dampness, it was not entirely unpleasant.

The Muggle in charge of the rink thought differently. "Off the ice, you two! You're blocking everybody!" The Muggles in the rink all laughed.

"Follow me!" said Rowan, "We'll crawl our way out." And hand over hand, slowly and clumsily, they did.

"You suddenly forgot how to skate, eh?" the Muggle in charge said gruffly.

"Everyone is staring," whispered Sophie as they unlaced their skates.

"Well, yes, that often happens in Muggle London. We don't know all the rules, so we make mistakes."

Sophie nodded. "Wherever I've traveled, I've found there was a learning curve. I made the most dreadful faux pas developing my Mermish accent, but the Merpeople were more patient than these Muggles."

"You forget they don't realize we need their patience. They think we're just like them. But otherwise, did you like skating?"

Sophie went warm again at the thought of holding his hand. "I liked it very much."

"Good. Are you up for trying a Muggle restaurant? Some of these Muggles can cook better than house elves."

"I'd love to."

As they walked through the streets, their skates became lighter and lighter. They finally vanished at a place called Vauxhall Road. No Muggles seemed to take the slightest notice.

There was a restaurant nearby as crowded as the Leaky Cauldron. "I've never tried this place, but Muggle cooking never seems to fail. They have an expression: 'cooking from scratch.' I don't know what 'scratch' is, but it's so good, you'll think it's magic."

He pointed to a menu, which was posted on the inside of a glass window. Sophie studied it the items listed there, some unfamiliar but others not, and then a reflection in the glass caught her eye, and she turned around.

"I think I just saw Tom Riddle going into that shop across the street."

"Tom Riddle?"

"One of my students. Best in his year, actually. One of Professor Slughorn's picks. He was at the party."

"Were there other people at that party? Funny, I noticed only one."

Sophie blushed. They went into the restaurant. The food was as delicious as he said, and the conversation charming. When he finally brought her to her doorstep, it was too late for a game of Rack 'n Rune.

"Another night?" asked Rowan, and Sophie eagerly agreed. She went inside feeling it was one of the most magical nights of her life.

Her mother was waiting up for her.

"Well, what do you think of him?" Sophie asked anxiously.

Gazing at her steadily, her mother replied, "It's a hard life being an Unspeakable's wife. Perhaps not as risky as marrying an Auror, but risky nevertheless."

Sophie turned away, embarrassed. "Mother, we've had only one date. We're not talking about marriage yet."

"You will," her mother replied. "You will."