"I'm huddled outside the castle at this moment, hidden in the arms of the forest that has been my occasional home during these last grueling months. Up until now, I have simply watched, careful not to disturb what might only be a simple country school or a boarding facility, despite the reports of my sources. Still, I am confident that the time has finally come for me to approach. If my sources are wrong, I will merely be met with puzzlement and that rare brand of careful good humor that is the purview of the Scottish countryside. If, however, my sources prove correct, as I suspect, based on my inexplicable experiences so far, then I may well be walking into the clutches of my own doom. I am now standing. It is midmorning, about nine o'clock, but I see no sign of anyone. I am leaving the safety of my hiding place. I am entering the grounds."

        Martin crept carefully around the edge of the ramshackle cabin near the forest. The enormous, shaggy man he'd often spied in and around the cabin was not anywhere in sight. Martin straightened, determining to be bold about his initial approach. He began to cross the neatly cropped field between the cabin and the castle. In truth, he did not believe he was in grave peril. He had an innate sense that the greatest dangers were behind him, in that creepy and mysterious forest. He had indeed camped on the fringes of that forest, far on the side opposite the castle, where the trees seemed rather more normal and there were fewer unsettling noises in the night. Still, his travels back and forth through the densest parts of that forest had been strange, to say the least. Apart from the spider, which he had only escaped by sheer good luck, he hadn't actually seen anything. In a sense, he thought it might have been better if he had. A known monstrosity, like the spider, is far easier to deal with than the unknown phantoms conjured by Martin's imagination in response to the strange noises he'd heard on those long woodland walks. He'd been shadowed, he knew. Large things, heavy things, had followed him, always off to the left or right, hidden just behind the density of the trees. He knew they were watching him, and he also sensed that, unlike the spider, they were intelligent. They might have been hostile, but they were certainly curious. Martin had almost dared to call out to them, to demand they reveal themselves. Finally, remembering the spider, he'd decided that, after all, maybe an unseen monster that is merely curious is better than a seen monster that feels provoked.

        "The castle, as I have mentioned, is positively huge," Martin said into the small microphone clipped to his lapel. The microphone was connected to the phone on his belt. "I've travelled much of this continent and seen quite a variety of castles, but I've never seen anything so simultaneously ancient and yet immaculately maintained. The windows, apart from the one I was forced through those months ago, are beautifully sturdy and colorful. The stonework here doesn't show so much as a crack…" This wasn't entirely true, but it was true enough. "It is a beautiful spring day, fortunately. Clear and relatively warm. I am not hiding myself at all as I cross to the enormous gates, which are open. There… there seems to be a gathering over to my right, on a sort of field. I… I can't quite tell, but it looks as if they are playing football. I can't say that I expected that. They don't seem to be paying me any attention. I am continuing to the gates."

As Martin entered the gates, he finally began to be noticed. He slowed, still maintaining a steady course onward. His goal was simply to get as far into the castle as possible. He had purposely left his still camera behind. Cameras, in nearly every circumstance, incite resistance. People with cameras get thrown out of places. Someone simply walking into a place, walking confidently and purposely, may be met with curiosity, but they are not usually stopped. At least, not until it is too late. The courtyard was dotted with young people moving here and there in knots. They wore black robes over white shirts and ties. Many carried backpacks or books. The ones nearest Martin turned to watch him past, mostly out of curiosity.

        "There are… there are what appear for all the world to be… school pupils," Martin said quietly into his microphone, sidling past students as he worked across the courtyard. "Young people in robes, all school age. They seem surprised at my presence, but not hostile. In fact, as I am now approaching the entryway into the castle proper, it appears that I have elicited the attention of virtually everyone. Excuse me."

        This last was said to Ted Lupin, who had just appeared in the doorway with Noah Metzker and Sabrina Hildegard. All three of them stopped talking instantly as the strange man in the white shirt and loosened tie slipped between them. The quill in Sabrina's hair wobbled as she turned to watch him.

        "Who's he talking to?" Ted said.

        "And who the ruddy hell is he?" Sabrina added. The trio turned in the open doorway, watching the man work his way carefully into the entry hall. Students parted for him, recognizing immediately that this man was rather out of place. Still, no one seemed particularly alarmed. There were even a few puzzled grins.

        Martin went on speaking into his microphone. "More and more of what I must, for the time being, call students. There are dozens of them around me at the moment. I am moving through a sort of main hall. There are… chandeliers, great doorways. Statues. Paintings. The paintings… the paintings… the paintings…" For the first time, Martin seemed at a loss for words. He forgot the students gathering around him, watching him, as he took two steps toward one of the larger paintings lining the entry hall. In the painting, a group of ancient wizards were clustered around a large crystal ball, their white beards illuminated in its glow. One of the wizards noticed the staring man in the white shirt and tie. He straightened and scowled. "You're out of uniform, young man," the wizard exclaimed sternly. "You look a fright. I daresay you have a leaf in your hair."

        "The paintings… the paintings are…," Martin said, his voice an octave higher than normal. He coughed and gathered himself. "The paintings are moving. They are… for lack of a better term, like painted movies, but alive. They are… addressing me."

        "I address equals, young man," the wizard said. "I command the likes of you. Begone, ruffian."

        There was a smattering of laughter from the crowding students, but there was also a growing sense of nervousness. Nobody was ever amazed at the moving paintings. This man was either a nutter of a wizard, or he was… well, it was unthinkable. A Muggle could not get into Hogwarts. The students formed a large circle around him, as if he was a mildly dangerous animal.

"The students have hemmed me in," Martin said, turning around, his eyes rather wild. "I'm going to attempt to break through, however. I must move further in."

        As Martin proceeded, the perimeter of students broke apart easily, following him. There was a murmuring now. Nervous chatter followed the man, and he began to raise his voice.

        "I'm entering a large chamber. Quite high. I've been here before, but late at night, in the dark. Yes, this is the hall of moving staircases. Very treacherous. Remarkable mechanics at work here, and yet no sound of machinery at all."