It has been quite some little time (but much too long for my taste) since our acquaintance fell to the wayside and I take complete responsibility for it. Between spring term coming into its own chaos and my own falling headfirst into a particular topic of interest, all of my correspondence has been cut short and I only now am noticing the gap.

I do hope you can forgive such a rude break for I know I have some letter or another of yours I did not respond to. Remind me in full of anything it is I owe you and I am the happiest of fellows to oblige. In turn, I will prattle on to you about something of a peculiarity that has piqued my attention and beg your indulgence— for yours is a like mind and I feel I have delved too deep, too quickly to be trusted any longer unto my own.

[The following passage has been enchanted with some transfigurative riddle ink which Basil trusts Hermia may quickly decipher in order to force the ink back into effect.]


It is a peculiar thing, this nature of ours, to wonder at the wider world and the philosophical abundance of it. To explore or not to explore the human transformation is in itself a moral question in the right circles. I just finished a book entitled The Morality of Magic and I must admit— I do not much care for it. Attribute my distaste to insatiable curiosity, but I should not like to be prohibited from knowledge upon the pretension of modesty. And for what? To offend some higher power? To offend delicate sensibilities?

Perhaps I have been remiss in my correspondence for too long to dare asking such a petulant question to you, my dear friend.

Forgive the ramblings, I shall end here.

---