Things began to unravel after the Quidditch match.
Freddie and Brigid were due to be coming over for dinner again on Monday night. But Freddie came to the pub at lunchtime looking apologetic.
"We're not going to be able to make it, I'm afraid," he said. "Brie's … well, she's feeling a bit run down. She's had a lot going on lately, what with the start of the Quidditch season and having to cover for me in the shop. She just needs a bit of time to recover."
"Oh!" I was a bit taken aback. "Oh – I didn't make things worse did I, asking her to help out with the Quidditch merch? I didn't realise she had so much going on-"
"Oh, no, she loved all that, don't worry! It was a bit of fun for her, really. I think she was focusing on that, and now the weekend's over she's sort of crashed a bit. She'll be fine, she just needs a bit of time to look after herself, you know?"
"Yeah, of course, that makes sense. Well does she want me to come over somewhen? If she's not feeling up to coming over here, then I could come to her?"
Freddie hesitated before answering. It was all very weird.
"I don't think she wants any company at the moment. She just needs a bit of 'me time'. But I'm sure she'll come over when she's ready to be sociable."
He smiled, but it was an unconvincing smile. And upon a closer look, Freddie didn't look too great himself.
"Are you okay, Fred?"
"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," he said, waving an airy hand. "I need to dash … get back to the shop … see you later…"
And with that, he left.
I frowned, as I watched him leave the pub. I wasn't at all reassured.
Something was up.
My suspicions were only heightened when James returned home from Hogwarts with an interesting observation.
"Aunt Angie was in the shop just now," he said, as he leant Flora the Firebolt up against the wall behind the bar.
"What's wrong with that?" I asked. "She pops in every now and again."
"No, I mean, she was running the shop. Freddie and Brigid weren't there. They never get George or Angie in, unless they're having a holiday or something. But they can't be on holiday, they're coming for dinner later aren't they?"
"Not now, they're not."
James frowned, now tugging his cloak off.
"Are they on holiday? Did they dash off somewhere and not tell us?"
"No … Freddie came by earlier and said Brie's not well."
"Like she's ill?" He looked alarmed. "Shouldn't we check in on her, see if there's anything we can do to help?"
"I don't think they want us to. Freddie just said she's feeling a bit burnt out, like she needs a bit of a break."
"But surely dinner with us is a break? I mean, we're not taxing, are we?"
He looked genuinely concerned about the prospect.
I sighed.
"I don't know, it all sounded a bit odd. Freddie didn't look great either, if I'm being honest. Have you noticed anything recently? You've seen him a lot, with Quidditch practice."
"Well, no, he seemed fine. Just super focused on the match, you know. Maybe he's just worried about Brie." James chewed at his lip for a moment. "She was a bit off last year sometime, wasn't she? Summertime, when we were still living in London. Not long after they-"
"Got back from their honeymoon," I finished, recalling the time. "But she can't have been burnt out then, she'd just had two weeks off work."
"Unless it was the stress of catching up from two weeks off?" James suggested.
"Possibly…"
"Maybe I should give her a shout, check she's okay," he continued.
"I don't think you should do that," I said slowly. "I offered to go round, and Freddie said she wouldn't want visitors. I think we should probably respect that, shouldn't we?"
James looked like he really didn't want to, but after a moment he let out a big sigh.
"I guess you're right," he said reluctantly. "Well, I guess it's date night for us then."
Normally a night to ourselves would be a good thing. But I sensed James was as disappointed as I was that we wouldn't have company.
Harry and Ginny invited us to theirs for dinner on Thursday evening. As we hadn't had our Monday night off as planned, I didn't feel quite so guilty about leaving Lauren to run the shift – it wasn't as though we were ever busy on Thursday nights.
"We should probably give her a pay rise," James said as we were getting ready. "Do we make enough money to do that?"
I had to stifle a laugh. How could someone honestly know so little about the finances of their own pub?
"Yes, we can afford to give Lauren a pay rise," I said, amused. The thought eased my conscience a bit; I was aware that I was giving her more and more responsibility with every passing week. If anything she was a victim of her own success, as she'd proved more than adept at everything I'd asked her to do.
I wasn't surprised when we reached Harry and Ginny's house to find that Albus and Lily were there – or more specifically, that they were both on time, unlike us. Lily was mid-flow as we got there.
"-made thirty thousand Galleons! Thirty thousand! Isn't that just incredible?"
"Is this the Quidditch match?" James asked.
Lily nodded gleefully.
"It's amazing, isn't it? Just think of all the incredible things the Foundation can do with that money! The Prophet are running a front page story on it tomorrow too, they're really starting to get behind us."
The cynic in me suspected that was due more to the Weasley involvement and the wizarding world's love of Quidditch than any actual enthusiasm for the Foundation on the part of the paper. But it was still publicity, and ultimately that was all that mattered to Lily.
"Well, it sounds like you're having a better week than me," Harry sighed.
We all turned to look at him, puzzled.
"What do you mean?" Albus asked.
"The ICW are having meetings next week," Harry said, "about the Statute."
"So I guess you're going to be stuck in conferences all week? Sounds like fun."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Harry paused. "I'm not part of the delegation."
"What?" James and Lily both said at once.
"Sorry," I said, utterly confused, "what's meeting next week?"
"The International Confederation of Wizards," Harry explained. "It's a long story but essentially a movement in favour of repealing the Statute of Secrecy has sprung up-"
"Oh, yeah, I've heard about that," I said hurriedly. "Sorry, I just didn't know what the letters stood for. So, should you be going to the meetings?"
"That depends," Harry said with a wry smile, "on whether or not you think the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ought to be involved in discussions about repealing the most important law on our books."
I winced.
"I'm guessing the answer to that is yes?"
"I can't believe this," James said, visibly fuming. "Kingsley always took you to the conferences, you should be the first name on Knatchbull's list."
"Is Aunt Hermione going?" Lily asked tentatively.
"Guess," Harry said darkly.
"She's not best pleased about the matter," Ginny added.
"I should think not, it's her paper they've stolen and misappropriated!" Albus shook his head disapprovingly. "I suppose this is all Knatchbull's doing?"
"Well, it's his office who decides on the delegation," Harry said, "so either him or somebody in his office deliberately decided not to include us. But he will have rubber stamped the decision, so ultimately it's his doing."
"I don't suppose it could have just been an oversight, could it?" I frowned.
Al snorted.
"Trust me, you don't accidentally overlook Harry Potter."
It was a fair point.
"Why do you think they don't want you there, then?" I asked Harry. "Do you think … maybe you don't agree with the Minister on what should happen?"
Harry took a long time to answer, and even then his voice was slow and measured.
"I don't think that removing the Statute of Secrecy is in itself a bad thing," he began. "I understand the reasoning behind it – we're in an entirely different world now to the one that saw the Statute's introduction, and the magical and Muggle worlds grow closer and closer together as time goes on, even if the Muggle world doesn't know it yet. But if we were to even consider it, we would have to treat the process very delicately, and give it a lot of thought. Each individual country would have to be taken into account, because of course this is a worldwide thing. If word got out about magic here, they'd know about it in Australia in minutes. And we surely can't info-dump people with this – you yourself know how seismic it is to learn about our world, Carlotta. No, I think this would be a years-long process, if we were to do it right."
"And the Minister?" I prompted.
"I suspect," Harry said delicately, "from the whispers I've heard in the Ministry, that Minister Knatchbull is not in favour of a nuanced approach. I have made it clear that I think rushing into this would be a huge mistake. Therefore, I can only assume that my exclusion from the delegation is because Britain's official position on the Statute is that it should be lifted quickly, and they think my presence at the conference will derail their message."
"And would it?"
"Well, I certainly wouldn't sit back and let them throw themselves into this head-first like they seem to be doing." He took off his glasses, set them on the dining table and rubbed his face wearily with his hands.
"The Ministry is an odd place to be working at the moment," he continued, still massaging his temples. "A lot of us have worked tirelessly over the past thirty years to make it more transparent, more accountable, more fair. I have never wanted to be Minister for Magic, and I have never wanted to be in the Minister's pocket. What I have always wanted is a good working relationship with the Minister of the day; I don't need a Minister who agrees with me on everything, because I'm not necessarily right about everything. But I want to work for a Minister for Magic who has good intentions and who is willing to take advice from his Heads of Department and senior colleagues."
Harry picked up his glasses from the table and set them back on his nose. He looked weary, and every one of his forty-eight years. He was the same age as my own father, but he never seemed it to me – he was playful, carefree, exuberant. But seeing him now, his shoulders weighed down with stress … it felt as though I was seeing him as the saviour of the wizarding world for the first time.
"It's been a long time since I had to worry about who sits in that office," he finished. "I don't like that I have to worry again."
On Friday night I rang home for a catch up. Mamá and Dad were both in a good mood – Dad and I had both moved on from the train platform incident and he seemed to have resolved to not mention the issue of my job again. It should have been a nice phone call, but my mind was just all over the place.
I had an appointment with the hospital consultant about Parky in June, which was excellent news for Mamá because it meant I'd be travelling down to Guildford for a few days. She was already making plans for the week.
It was only two months away – but what if the Ministry was already preparing to lift the Statute by then? How would I be able to enjoy my time in Surrey if I knew that was around the corner?
Juanita was apparently close to setting a date for her wedding – summer next year. If the ICW voted to lift the Statute, it would surely have happened by then? How on earth would we be able to get through the event, with all my Spanish family in attendance, if they knew by then that James could do magic?
And Dad wanted to organise a lads' golfing weekend sometime this summer, with James invited – but would that invitation still be extended to him if Dad found out James had never played golf in his life before February and still nearly beat him?
By the end of the conversation, I felt sick to my stomach. What was I to do?
Not that I really had many options – my name was already mud in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes simply because I was a Muggle; I definitely couldn't tell my family about magic while the Statute still existed. And if the Statute did get lifted, I could hardly continue to hide from my parents the knowledge that James was a part of the wizarding world.
My hands were tied by whatever happened at the ICW conference. And I'd have been much happier about that if Harry and Hermione were allowed to go.
James was at home when I got back, and a worried expression fell across his face as he saw me.
"Are you okay? You don't look good."
"Ugh." I fell back onto the sofa next to him. "I don't know what to do! I don't want to tell Mamá and Dad about all this-" I gestured around me – "but I don't want them to have to find out another way, either! I just can't believe this might actually happen…"
I felt bile rising at the back of my throat, and swallowed.
"I know, I can't believe it either." James rubbed my back soothingly. "But there's nothing we can do about it now. All we can do is wait and see what happens next week. If anything is to change with the Statute, all countries have to vote in favour, don't forget that."
"I know…" I chewed my lip nervously. "But until a few months ago, nobody was talking about the Statute, and already they're meeting to discuss removing it. It's all just happening so fast-"
A wave of nausea interrupted me; I took a few deep breaths, and swallowed again, but that wasn't enough to quash the sensation. I leapt up and ran to the bathroom, and got there just in time to throw up into the toilet bowl.
Even as I was sitting up, wiping my face, James was right next to me with a glass of water.
"You need to stop worrying, you're making yourself sick," he said gently. "Promise me you'll try to relax?"
I sat back against the wall, drew my knees up underneath my chin, and took the glass from him.
"I just feel like everything's changing," I said, "and it scares me."
"Of course everything's not changing," James said soothingly, taking my free hand in his and stroking it with his thumb. "We're not changing, are we? I'm still here."
I frowned, staring at the hand that he was holding. It was trembling, as it had been for a few weeks now; lately I'd become very remiss at taking all my tablets in the mornings.
"It's just crazy, I was only living in London a year ago," I said. "Heck, I've only known about you and magic for just over two years. And I'm happy about all this, don't get me wrong. I just … I don't know how to tell my parents about it all at once."
"You don't even know if you have to tell them," James reminded me. "And even if the ICW did decide to lift the Statute, it's not going to be done overnight. We'll have time to make a plan."
He learned forwards and kissed my forehead softly.
"Do you want to watch a film?" he suggested.
"I think I might just go to bed," I said slowly. "I'm feeling pretty tired."
It had been a long time since I'd felt this weary. Things really were changing.
The following week just seemed to drag. I found myself watching every minute of coverage of the ICW talks, listening incessantly to the Wizarding Wireless Network, reading every inch of column coverage in every paper I could get my hands on. By the end of the week, every country had come to a unanimous decision.
The Statute of Secrecy was to be lifted worldwide on the twelfth of June, just over six weeks from now.
I threw up when I heard the news.
This was going to be a horrific six weeks.