’No my boy,’ he soothed, ’I am not him’ at least Meserimus didn’t think he was him, and he had certainly no idea who the him might be. The boy was so slight of build and looked so frail Meserimus took his own large heavy white cloak and draped it over the boys shoulders. He was able to then cast a warming charm on himself to keep the chill out of his old bones. The cloaks weight would add warmth but also hopefully provide the central nervous system suppression that seemed to work so well when some of his children had suffered night terrors – a hug but a VE acceptable one.

He gave Clue a few moments to recover himself, to shake off some of the dread that clearly still hung over him. ’Who is him’ Meserimus asked pointedly fixing the student with a steady gaze