Bill nods. He knows the stories, they all do. He has a fleeting image of a rat in a sewer, but he doesn't say a word: that's not part of this Tom's story, or at least it isn't part of it yet. "It seems that every wizarding... place, for lack of a clearer term, has an underside. Hogwarts and its chambers. London and London Below. I hesitate to think what might be under the sands of Luxor now."

He imagines New York with its subways and sewers and... the possibilities are so overwhelming he can hardly make sense of it. It would take a brilliant mastermind to coordinate all of that.

The seed of that brilliant mastermind is sitting at this table with him, drinking Ogden's, talking about protecting his loved ones. Bill trusts this Tom.

Clearly, though, there's room to wonder.