“Certainly.” The sorcerer fishes around in his satchel; he finds a finely-wrought brass pen with its own ink reservoir, hesitates over it for a moment, and then pockets it again to hand over a standard-issue quill and inkwell instead. Slides them across the table for Verminius to start filling it out, turning the conversation more like bureaucratic interview and less like questioning.

“So. Anchor shard? And any pre-existing medical conditions which might require particular monitoring or accommodations?”

Strange remains polite, but impersonal and distant; these are just the questions he has to ask. (They’ll get to the far more interesting ones later—)