And there Chris was, standing by arguably the most admired Witch in his school, toes freezing and indignation on his mind.

“This can’t be it!” Chris exclaimed, looking at the little door. “I’ve seen pictures of this side’s Gates building; this--”

Winter gave him a sign to be quiet and knocked several times on the dark door.

A grumbling voice that suggested that its owner had never been left alone for as long as they’d like called, “Documents at the Official, payment ‘ere or sod off!”

“We’re for Burness,” Winter replied and the door creaked open. An angry face that seemed to be a meter above the ground popped out and looked up at them, giving Chris a long, unblinking look before saying:

“All right, gettin’.”

For a moment Chris was confused, but when the door opened wider he realized they’d be told to ‘get in’. The gnome stepped aside for them. “He’s been waiting ‘ere all night, y’know.”

“We were delayed.” Winter entered and scanned the room..

As Chris tried to better prepare himself for the upcoming trip through the Opening of the Aurora (his first passing as a kid had not gone so well), he also took a look around.

The place they had entered looked like a waiting room at a doctor’s office, but a lot more… wooden. Lit by large gas lamps hanging from the ceiling, with a desk by the door and many shelves on every wall. The furniture consisted mostly of chairs – sofas, folding chairs, wooden chairs, elegant chairs, milking stools and something that looked like a park bench that, after further inspection on Chris’ side, appeared to have a person wrapped in a robe sitting on it.

Winter moved between the chairs towards the sleeping figure and the Hach followed her without question.

The person that they had approached had pointy ears, so Chris came to the conclusion that they were a Witch, and seemed quite pleasant on first impression.

Winter said, “Ian.”

Nothing happened. Winter tried again, louder. This seemed to give the wanted result. The Witch moved, opening his eyes slowly with a quiet confused noise.

“We’re here.”

“Miss Winter?” He fumbled around to fix his clothes. “You’ve finally arrived!”

He stood up then and gave her a bow, touching his ear with one hand, as per the usual sign of respect between Witches. After Winter responded in kind, Ian turned to look at Chris.

“And you are?”

“Er – Christopher Hawks.”

The other gave him a somewhat stiff nod and said, “I am Burness.”

Judging by his pleasant appearance, Chris tried to break the ice, “Wait, you’re the North Central's ambassador’s son, right? Steven Belwhite’s? I remember seeing you in the papers a while ago.”

Ian gave him a long, unpleasant look. So much for a first impression.

“It’s Ian Belwhite Burness,” Ian said finally.

Winter opened her mouth to speak, but an outburst from the general direction of the front door interrupted them and they turned to look at the commotion.

The gnome behind the desk was having an argument with a tall Witch wearing worn out jeans and an even older grey overcoat. The man put down a box he was carrying in order to gesture more freely while explaining something. A quite complex something, as it seemed.

They weren’t speaking English – although it was common in Northland, the native tongue was called Aurorian, and was taught in most mixed schools in the Unfrozen as well. Upon concentrating a little, Chris managed to understand bits and pieces that pertained to some “print” and something to do with a passage. Overall, though, it was impossible for him to tell head from tail.

“Print?” Chris murmured, raising a brow.

Ian’s stare became just a little nastier than it had been a moment ago. “It is the equivalent of ‘book’, but,” (He pronounced the word 'but' as if it started with a sound between b and v) “with less respect.”

Chris thought this quite unfair, and anyway it wasn’t like Ian’s English was perfect, as Chris later found out, especially when the Witch was worn out; he had the habit of turning to Winter mid-speech, waiting for her to correct him or complete his sentence with the right phrase, or slipping in Aurorian words and grammar whenever he could himself. To his credit, however, Chris had to say that this habit didn’t at all make him look any less threatening or bad mannered.