While Hermione was leafing through the Prophet on Tuesday morning, she was startled to see Harry's old 'Undesirable Number One' poster. But beneath it was an article about the upcoming gala benefitting the Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund, and Harry's eyeglasses were up for auction.

She remembered their visit months earlier to the Optimancer, who had casually suggested Harry auction off his glasses instead of discarding them. Hermione had been astonished when Harry thought it was a good idea, since he was so averse to publicity back then. But in hindsight she realised he was already emerging from his shell, which he had since discarded completely.

Ron and I should get together sometime and laugh about how much he's changed, she thought, looking at the photograph of the defiant, bespectacled teen. He was skinnier back then, and he looked almost feral in the photo, which made her wonder whether they'd manipulated it somehow. Surely they wanted him to look dangerous, but now it had a different effect, thanks to his reputation as a master seducer.

The article said the gala was sold out, but that they were accepting remote bids on the major items, including dates with various celebrities. Harry was listed, of course, along with Lockhart, numerous Quidditch stars, and several radio personalities. Next year they should include Lee and George, thought Hermione. Apparently Ryan had been invited in previous years, but he told her he'd made a donation instead.

She was relieved he wasn't participating, but she wouldn't have minded if Ryan were a bit more flamboyant. Now that Harry had launched a 'golden age of wizarding fashion,' as the magazines called it, young wizards were far more dapper than their Muggle counterparts. This was partly because magic made tailoring much more accessible; not everyone could afford premium fabrics like Harry wore, or dozens of sets of robes, but nearly every wizard could buy one or two outfits in the style Harry had made popular.

But Ryan preferred Muggle clothes, and he disliked attention. Hermione had originally thought this was because he'd been Love Potioned, but his friend Annie told her he'd always been like that. 'He's never sought the spotlight,' she said. 'It's almost ironic he's a good-looking athlete—I think he'll be much more himself when he's a researcher or Charms professor, although Merlin help his students.'

The article also mentioned the Dark Arts texts she and Harry had purified, and although she was named, it didn't specifically reveal that she was a Light witch. Hermione wondered if anyone would make the connection, but she suspected they wouldn't; she was accustomed to being viewed as Harry's brainy accomplice, which didn't bother her.

She was therefore surprised when she arrived at the Ministry and was met with whispers and stares. Oh dear, here we go, she thought, bracing herself for questions. And indeed, a wizard in the lift asked, 'Miss Granger, are you a Light witch?'

'I'm studying Light magic, and I've begun casting under supervision. But I'm not as advanced as Harry is.'

'I'm sure you'll get there,' he said. 'A hard worker like yourself.'

'Can you glow?' asked a witch close to her own age.

'No, mine manifests differently, and I can't control it yet.'

'Still, you're lucky!' said the witch as she exited the lift.

'Does this mean you'll become an Auror?' asked the wizard. 'I bet you'd be good at it.'

'He's right,' said another witch. 'You'll probably hear from them today.'

Hermione inhaled sharply. 'Heavens, that never crossed my mind! But you're right.'

In a fog, she walked to her desk outside Octavia's office, and she tried and failed to review some of her notes. I don't want to be an Auror, she thought stubbornly, and she started planning her refusal.

Octavia arrived several minutes later. 'Oh good, you're here. Can we talk?'

'Yes, of course. Right now?'

'If you please,' said Octavia. 'I'll make the tea.'

Hermione entered her office, and after a minute of magical brewing they sat down with steaming mugs. 'Is this about the Prophet article?' she asked.

'It is. Did you intend to announce it, or did it come out by accident?'

'I told Harry I was ready to go public, which got conveyed to the WORF people. I never planned to make a huge announcement like he did.'

'Why not?' asked Octavia.

Hermione blinked. 'Because I'm not a public figure.'

'Yes, you are. Not exactly like Harry, of course—no one's that public. But you've won the Order of Merlin, First Class, and you have a huge career ahead of you.'

'Perhaps, but wouldn't it be a bit grandiose to declare I'm a Light witch while I'm still in the accidental phase?'

'So you can't control it yet?'

'No, I can only hide it, and that's with a charm I cast every morning.' She explained how her hair sparked sometimes, and that she could conceal it completely.

'Right, I just want to help you stay ahead of this.' With a slightly admonishing look, she said, 'Did you really think this wasn't newsworthy?'

Bewildered, Hermione said, 'I really didn't, and I still don't. Everyone knows I'm close with Harry, and that I'll always side with him politically, particularly as a Muggle-born. So why is this such a big deal?'

Octavia took a sip of tea. 'It's not about politics, it's about power. Magical power. And that's always a big deal.'

'But we're all magical,' argued Hermione.

'True, but we're not all equally gifted. Albus Dumbledore, for example. He wouldn't have been Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, and so forth, if he hadn't been hugely powerful.'

Still puzzled, Hermione said, 'But he didn't duel people for those posts, unless you're referring to his duel with Grindelwald.'

'I am referring to that duel, and to the fact that Voldemort feared him. You've always downplayed your role in the war, presenting yourself as Harry's helper rather than his equal. And now you're downplaying your Light magic, and both of those things concern me.'

'I've never downplayed my intelligence.'

'No, and that's fortunate. I'm sure your parents were good examples, with both of them being Healers.'

'They've been very good examples,' said Hermione, pleased that Octavia didn't dismiss them for being Muggles. 'But I'm not sure what you're suggesting here.'

'I'm suggesting you stop thinking of yourself as a mere researcher.'

'I'm only twenty!' she said. 'And you know how ambitious I am when it comes to changing magical society.'

'Yes, although that's not the same as personal ambition.'

Hermione sighed in exasperation. 'Harry's the Slytherin, not me. I don't care about getting the glory—I just want to get the job done. Which is exactly what happened in the fight against Voldemort, I might add. We all worked hard, but because of the prophecy and his personality, Harry was in the leading role. And I'm fine with that.'

'Right. But what if you'd been nurtured?'

Octavia's words hit Hermione like a brick. 'I'm sorry?' she answered, almost dazed.

'What if you'd been nurtured? What if Dumbledore had trained you along with Harry, or if you'd had a qualified Defence professor seven years running? Or even someone who took you aside and said, "Good lord, you're the most talented witch of your age, and we need to foster that.'

'I received top marks,' said Hermione, a bit feebly. 'They made me a Prefect, and then Head Girl.'

Octavia gave her a penetrating look. 'I read your file when Kingsley recommended you for the job. You aren't just clever and hard-working—your examiners praised your wandwork as well. Highly, across multiple disciplines. Most people are strong in one or two areas, and you're strong in all of them. And from what I can tell, no one nurtured that.'

Hermione couldn't dispute Octavia's statement, but she was compelled to explain. 'There was a war on. When Voldemort returned, the Ministry was interfering, and our professors were struggling just to keep the school afloat. And it was Harry who needed private instruction, due to the prophecy, and that's what Dumbledore provided.'

She knew how weak it sounded, and her mentor just looked at her with compassion. 'That was unfortunate,' said Octavia. 'And we can't change the past. But I won't stand by and watch you sell yourself short.

Tears pricked Hermione's eyes, and she felt safe enough with Octavia to let them flow. For a while she didn't speak, until she finally said, 'I don't want to be an Auror.'

Octavia laughed out loud. 'Merlin, no! I'm sure they'd love dragging you on raids and deploying you somehow, but I can't see you enjoying that.'

'I doubt it would even work,' said Hermione, relieved that Octavia understood. 'When I experience Light magic, the last thing I'd want to do is hurt someone. It's possible I'd only snap their wands, but from what I've read, the amount of damage is largely dependent on the Dark witch or wizard. Which is why Voldemort was nearly annihilated the first time he tried killing Harry. So no, I'd never want to be trotted out as a weapon.'

'That's good. And I'll be glad to back you up when Bode and Shacklebolt come marching in, although I suspect Kingsley knows you better than that.' She took another sip of tea and said, 'Now that we've ruled out law enforcement, let's talk about what you might want to do instead.'

'But that's just it,' said Hermione. 'I want to make magical society more egalitarian, which means crafting legislation.'

'And you don't want to perform magic as part of your job?'

'I'd love to perform more magic at work, but I don't see how that's compatible with my other goals. That's why I'm studying Light magic in my leisure time.'

Octavia was frowning. 'Did you ever consider joining the Department of Mysteries?'

Hermione felt a wave of unease. 'No. I was there for a battle, and I hope never to go back. But more importantly, working there wouldn't change society the way I'm hoping to, other than by being the first Muggle-born Unspeakable or something.'

'I think you're underestimating the DOM, and yourself. Change doesn't always happen for the reasons we think it does. I've been trying for twenty years to promote equality, and it's not just a question of hard work. But we've made real progress since the war ended—why do you think that is?'

'Because Voldemort fell and took the blood purists down with him,' said Hermione automatically.

'That's the short answer,' said Octavia. 'Could you please elaborate?'

'Yes, of course.' After a pause, she said, 'Voldemort and the Death Eaters embodied the logical extreme of blood-purist philosophy. Before that, blood purists couched their goals in terms of "preserving wizarding traditions" and so forth. But during the final year of the war we saw what that really meant, and once the Death Eaters fell from power, people were free to reject it.'

'Well put. So the real change was in people's attitudes, as opposed to a top-down decision.'

'Right. But change can also happen from the top, like when the Death Eaters were in charge.'

'It can,' said Octavia, 'but they were authoritarian, which is the opposite of what you're trying to accomplish. Which means the only way to enact the kind of change you're interested in is to change minds.'

Hermione simultaneously felt frustration and hope: frustration that her attempts to enact change within the Ministry were doomed, but hopeful that there was a more effective way to accomplish it. 'Are you saying I could change minds from within the DOM?'

'Not specifically. As you said, you have an aversion to the DOM. I also don't think you'd enjoy that level of secrecy, since you're very—shall we say—effusive about your work.'

'But you think I can change minds some other way?'

'I do.'

Hermione's face fell. 'Does this mean you're sacking me?'

Octavia laughed and said, 'No, I'm not sacking you. You're far too good a researcher, and I think you'll do a fine job crafting legislation, particularly when you have more experience.'

'Then what am I supposed to do? As far as I know, there's no Ministry position that combines legislative analysis with advanced magical research.'

'What about working part-time for the Ministry while you pursue a Mastery?'

A Mastery! thought Hermione, stunned. She'd previously dismissed the idea, since she was so keen to change society. But Octavia was saying that society changed for its own reasons, and that perhaps she could influence it some other way. 'Like Harry!' she blurted. 'The reason he became an Auror was to stop Dark wizards. But he's fought the Dark Arts much more effectively as a Seeker, because he's so influential. Not to mention happier.'

This time Octavia looked surprised. 'Yes, well done! That's a perfect example—better than I'd have come up with.'

Hermione frowned again. 'But I'll never be as influential as Harry. Not even close.'

'Have you tried?'

An uncomfortable memory of S.P.E.W. came to mind. 'Er, yeah. Back in school I tried organising for house-elf rights, and I failed miserably. Not even the house-elves supported it. I really should have done my research first.'

Octavia laughed and said, 'You've clearly learnt that lesson. But as for your influence, you wouldn't be working alone. Doesn't Harry share the same goals?'

'He does. And Davina—our Light Arts teacher—says we're a surprisingly good combination. That's why we've already been able to clear Dark texts.'

'You've accomplished more than that working together,' said Octavia fondly.

But Hermione felt a new wave of dismay. 'But we're already working together. He's promoting Light magic and cultivating allies, while I'm doing legislative research. So we're already a powerful combination, at least in theory.'

'Yes, but we've established that you're not living up to your potential. A witch with your gifts should be practising magic, and I doubt you'll be happy unless you are.'

Harry is happiest while flying, she thought. And I'm happiest while casting, and brewing, and studying, and ...

'I need to pursue a Mastery!' she declared. 'It's so obvious! The only question is which subject. I like all of them.'

Beaming, Octavia said, 'That's a conversation you should have with your former professors. But I'd encourage you to find something interdisciplinary, and see how it combines with Light magic.'

'And I could still work here part-time?' she asked hopefully.

'By all means. After all the research you've done, I'd hate to lose you.'

Octavia listened indulgently as Hermione mused out loud, until they were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Kingsley's secretary, Agnes, and she said, 'Excuse me, Miss Granger? Mr Shacklebolt and Director Bode are hoping to speak with you.'

Hermione smiled at her mentor and said, 'Would you mind accompanying me?'

'It would be my pleasure,' said Octavia, and they followed Agnes down the corridor.

After work that evening, Hermione told her parents about her eventful day. 'I honestly had no idea people would make such a fuss over my Light magic! But nearly everyone asked me about it, and the head of the DMLE offered me a job with the Aurors.'

'They want you to become an Auror?' said Emily, aghast.

'No—Kingsley knew I wouldn't be interested. But they were hoping I'd be willing to consult on high-risk assignments.' Her parents looked horrified, and Hermione said, 'Don't worry, I said no. I like to think my combat days are behind me.'

'So do I,' said Emily fiercely. 'Were they disappointed?'

'Bode was, and if I were more Slytherin I'd have strung him along for a while, in the hopes he'd advance my goblin proposals. But that would have been disingenuous, to say the least.'

Daniel raised one eyebrow, and Emily said, 'Stop that! She's been nothing but honest for months.'

'So far as you know,' smirked Hermione.

Her parents laughed, and Daniel said she'd always been too clever for her own good, which unleashed an excited description of her plan to pursue a Mastery. 'Octavia was right—I was frustrated not being able to practise more magic at work. But this way I can work on legislation and advanced magic at the same time!'

'I'm so glad,' said Emily. 'Government bureaucracy can be deadly to someone as idealistic as you are, and I don't want you to become jaded. But if you're also doing something that really excites you, you'll have an easier time waiting for the halls of power to catch up.'

Hermione hadn't yet owled Minerva about her Mastery, since she wanted to talk to Davina first. Not that she expected Davina to have time to supervise her, but she hoped there might be a way to make Light magic the focal point of an interdisciplinary study. But first she wanted to discuss it with Ryan.

As usual, he rang her after practice. 'You're still coming over tonight, right?' he asked.

'Of course I am.'

'Then prepare yourself for questions about Light magic, because everyone who saw this morning's article put two and two together.'

'I know,' said Hermione, and she started telling him about her day. 'Blast, I'm doing it again! When will we ever remember to use the Floo instead of jabbering on the phone? See you in a minute.'

She said goodbye to her parents, threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, and stepped through to Ryan's flat. After greeting her, he said, 'So, you were telling me about your conversation with Octavia.'

Hermione repeated what she'd told her parents, only in more detail, and Ryan echoed their alarm at the suggestion she work with the Aurors. 'No, don't worry—I told Bode I won't do it, and Kingsley didn't push.'

'They're probably reconsidering their plan to teach Aurors Light magic, in case they all turn pacifist like you and Harry,' said Ryan.

She told him about Octavia's advice to pursue a Mastery, and Ryan's face lit up. 'My brilliant Hermione! What'll it be? Judging from your N.E.W.T.s, you're good at everything.'

'Something interdisciplinary, involving Light magic. And I could definitely use advice.' Her eyes shot open. 'Lucinda! Maybe your mum has ideas!'

'Oh, she definitely has ideas—any number of them. Do you want to talk to her now? Annie and Rupert won't be here until half six.'

'Yes please! If anyone can come up with a groundbreaking, interdisciplinary field of study, it's Lucinda Spoonwocket.'

They Apparated to the garden shed and made their way into the house, where Ryan's parents had just started eating. 'Oh, mercy,' said Lucinda, 'the human hoover has arrived, and béarnaise sauce doesn't like being increased. Would vinaigrette be all right?'

'We're not here for dinner,' said Ryan. 'Hermione wants your advice—may we sit down?'

'Of course, but surely you'll want a snack,' she said, Summoning more plates and cutlery to the table. 'And I know that was bone idle of me, but I was on my feet all day and I've earned my rest.'

'How is that different to any other day?' asked Hermione, who seldom saw Lucinda sitting down.

'Are you familiar with the Podrata Potion?'

'No. Is it foot-related?'

'It is indeed, and it's apparently the bee's knees where feet are concerned. But it's perfectly devilish to make—instead of being stirred, it insists on being walked.'

Ryan looked puzzled. 'Like a dog?'

'No, not on a lead. Which is fortunate, because I was able to bring Lucifer with me. But the potion requires eight hours of brisk walking within a twelve-hour period—Lucifer loved it, but now I'm completely knackered.'

'So you decided to relax by making béarnaise sauce?' asked Hermione.

'No, I made it,' said Walter. 'It's the one recipe I'm better at than Lucinda is. Béarnaise is notoriously fiddly, and wizards haven't yet found a shortcut. And by "wizards" I mean Lucinda. She made everything else, of course,' he said, indicating the laden table.

Ryan had spooned some potatoes onto his plate and began eating, to Hermione's amusement. 'We're getting Thai takeaway after this,' she explained. 'That's our tradition while listening to Harry on the radio. But naturally Ryan needs something to tide him over. Early in our relationship I asked if he was afraid he'd spoil his appetite, and he just looked at me as if I'd recited gibberish.'

'I understood all the words,' said Ryan. 'They just didn't make any sense the way you'd arranged them.'

'But tell me more about this foot potion,' said Hermione. 'I've never heard of it.'

'No, you wouldn't have. Even Severus Snape wasn't vindictive enough to assign it, and the Hogwarts matron probably didn't see a lot of geriatric foot ailments. Except among the professors, perhaps. But they're common amongst older Muggles, and this potion is relatively easy to mask. By the way, thanks for that "Palatable Poisons" book—it's been a godsend for secretly dosing Muggles.'

'Glad to help. And, Walter, how are you?'

'I'm well. But you came here for advice, and I'm sure Lucinda is keen to dispense some, so go on.'

Hermione told them about her plan to pursue a Mastery, which was greeted with enthusiasm.

'Oh, thank heaven!' exclaimed Lucinda. 'I worried the Ministry would slowly suffocate you, but now you'll have an outlet for all that brilliant magic of yours. Do you know what you want to study?'

'No, and that's why I'm here. I enjoy nearly every subject, except Divination, and I'd like to come up with something spanning multiple disciplines. And combine it with Light magic somehow.'

Lucinda's expression was thoughtful. 'Multiple disciplines, eh? That's true of Healing, but I don't get the impression you're interested.'

'I'm not opposed to it, certainly, but formal Healing education isn't compatible with part-time work crafting legislation.'

'No, it isn't. Walter, what do you think? You're always good for a fresh perspective.'

He took a moment to consider the question. 'Hermione, what is it you want to accomplish? Is there a specific problem you want to solve? Or are you more attracted to knowledge for its own sake?'

'Why not both?' asked Hermione.

'That's a fair question,' said Walter. 'But personally, I prefer having a goal, since it keeps me focussed. Otherwise I tend to get lost down rabbit holes.'

Hermione was nodding and said, 'I know what you mean. But I'm very goal-oriented at the Ministry, so it might be a good balance if my Mastery has fewer constraints, at least initially.'

'Personally, I love having a completely mad goal, and then flinging myself into research to figure out how to accomplish it,' said Lucinda. 'But there's no reason you can't work the other way around, which I've done as well. And apparently Light magic emphasises intuition, which suggests that if you just study whatever you fancy for a while, and follow whatever thread catches your interest, it'll all lead to something brilliant you'd never have come up with at the start.'

Hermione felt a surge of excitement, followed immediately by unease. 'Do you think that would work? I'd be afraid of wasting time.'

'And so? Frankly, you could argue that I've wasted the last twenty-five years.'

'No one who saw this house could make that argument,' said Hermione. 'And I know my father and grandmum appreciate how you've spent your time.'

'But I could have been more efficient about it,' replied Lucinda. 'Walter, remember my fibre arts phase?'

'Yes, dear—every winter morning, when I choose amongst my comically vast selection of jumpers.'

'I was perfecting the charms,' said Lucinda. 'The traditional charms are shockingly error-prone.'

'Mum's jumpers incorporate runes,' said Ryan. 'Not just in the pattern, but deep within the yarn itself, which she spun.'

'Runes for what?' asked Hermione, impressed.

'Comfort, mostly,' said Lucinda. 'Also durability, anti-pilling, and so forth. I'd have liked to add protection, but sheep's wool doesn't have the right properties for that. I tried knitting with mineral wool for exactly that reason, but it wasn't a success.'

'What a shame!' said Hermione. 'That would have been a brilliant discovery, had it worked.'

'Trial and error. And ultimately a waste of time—there are already charms to make wool more comfortable and durable. I mostly just wanted to play with runes and understand textiles better.'

Hermione paused and said, 'Do you realise that if it weren't for your textiles phase, we mightn't have learnt how to repair Harry's tapestry? And he's incredibly grateful it's fixed now, since he unearthed loads of relations he didn't know he had.'

'And dowries to pay for,' smirked Ryan.

'He'd have modelled underwear regardless,' said Hermione dismissively. 'This just gave him an excuse.'

Ryan's parents expressed surprise, and Hermione told them about Harry's adverts. 'Fantastic,' said Lucinda. 'This sounds like a job for Mothers For Harry Potter. Because I'm certain those uptight harridans will get their knickers in a twist.'

'How appropriate,' said Walter. 'Maybe they'll need new ones.'

Hermione thanked Walter and Lucinda for their advice. 'You've made a good case for open-ended study, although I'll need frequent reassurances I'm not falling behind somehow.'

'Yes, it's tragic how far behind you are already,' joked Ryan. 'Mum won her Order of Merlin when she was sixteen, after all. And she defeated Grindelwald before she was born—Dumbledore stole the credit.'

They returned to Ryan's flat, and a few minutes later Annie and her new boyfriend Rupert arrived. Hermione was thrilled Annie had hit it off with Theo Nott's flatmate at the drag party, and this was their first double date. Not that they were going anywhere—Harry's broadcast was that night—but it was still a milestone.

Ryan ordered takeaway, and he and Rupert went to fetch it, leaving the witches to catch up privately. 'I still can't believe you're experiencing Light magic,' Annie gushed. 'People kept asking if I already knew about it, but I was as surprised as anyone.'

'Forgive me for hiding it from you, but I wanted to keep it private for a while.'

'No worries—I understand completely.' Smiling, she added, 'How many people asked you about the libido thing?'

'Far too many,' said Hermione. 'But only witches, thank heaven!'

'And?'

Hermione had dodged the question at work, only saying she wasn't a textbook case like Harry. But she felt safe speaking candidly with Annie. 'Firstly, I'm not like Harry. According to Ginny he's always been frisky, particularly since the war ended. But he wasn't promiscuous until he joined the Cannons. And when his Light magic kicked in ... well, everyone knows what happened.'

Annie chuckled. 'Too right! Three witches in one week!'

'Anyway,' continued Hermione, 'before any of this started I was very cerebral.'

'Was?' said Annie sceptically.

'Even more than now, in the sense that I was almost completely in my head. Poor Ron—I'm sure I neglected him dreadfully. But I experienced a shift only a few days after we split up, and I almost immediately became much more physical. And by "much more," I suspect it's what most people would call normal.'

'Talk about good timing! Wasn't that around when you met Ryan?'

'Yes, and that's why I went flying with him that first afternoon. I didn't actually want to date him—I just wanted to get up on a broom, which I'd never previously enjoyed.'

'But suddenly you craved something hard between your legs,' said Annie, grinning.

Hermione laughed and continued. 'Anyway, it was months before I displayed accidental Light magic, but that didn't really change things, probably because the change had already occurred.'

'That would explain the lack of dark circles under Ryan's eyes. But Merlin, the other players are going to taunt him like mad.'

'They've already started,' said Hermione. 'The Cannons, anyway. But he's shockingly good at firing back—I blame his football mates.'

'They really are filthy, aren't they? But enough talk—I want to see your hair spark!'

'I'd love to show you, but I still can't control it. All I can do is remove the charm that hides it, which I've already done.'

Annie pretended to sulk. 'Fine, I'll just have to hope something triggers it tonight.'

The two wizards returned with the takeaway, and everyone started eating in the lounge. Ryan tuned the radio to Weasley's Wizard Wireless, and they chatted until the broadcast commenced.

'Live, from Diagon alley, it's Britain's most popular radio programme, Weasley's Wizard Wireless. I'm Lee Jordan–'

'And I'm George Weasley–'

'And with us is God's gift to Seers, the prophesied—yet completely unpredictable—Harry Potter-Black!'

'So that's what you're starting with,' said Harry dryly.

'Didn't see that one coming, didja?' said George. 'That's a little Divination humour, by the way.'

'Yes, Divination has been a nonstop source of laughs in my life.'

'Come now, this last prophecy wasn't so bad,' said Lee. 'But I'm getting ahead of myself, because we're going to make our audience wait for it. Yes, I know—I'm terribly cruel, although I'm sure some of you have heard it already. It's been making the rounds since Harry's drag party, but I haven't seen it printed anywhere yet, probably because no one can do it justice like Weasley's Wizard Wireless can.'

'It's the cross we bear,' said George. 'But Harry, let's see that Patronus! Not only will it brighten the lives of Britain's foulest criminals, but it'll also put a spring in your step!'

'When you put it that way ... Expecto Patronum!'

'Well done,' announced Lee, after Harry sent Prongs to Azkaban. 'Bright and shiny as ever! But Harry, are you ever embarrassed by how—shall we say—girly your Patronus is?'

'Girly? A stag?'

'Yes, a stag. And don't point out that they're male, because I know that. But let's face it—stags are woodland creatures, which are fundamentally girly. I mean really, were they out of gazelles?'

Harry began to stammer, but George said, 'Lee's just having you on. Honestly, I'm hard pressed to come up with a more macho Patronus. It's like a stallion, only pointier.'

'Er, thank you?'

'What about a lion?' blurted Lee. 'There's nothing more manly than the king of the jungle.'

'No, it's the lioness who hunts,' argued George. 'But a python, maybe?'

'I like it,' said Lee approvingly. 'Harry, do you think you can make that happen?'

'Change my Patronus? No, Prongs was my father's Animagus form.'

'And how old was he when he became an Animagus?'

'Fifteen, I think.'

George sniggered and said, 'That explains a lot. I don't know what his love life was like back then, but I completely understand why a frustrated teenager might fancy himself a galloping stag.'

'Hang on,' said Lee. 'Are you accusing the late James Potter of ... overcompensating?'

'Oi!' cried Harry.

'No, not necessarily,' said George. 'I have no reason to think he was under-equipped. But what teenage boy doesn't fantasise about dominating his rivals with his massive antlers?'

'Harry, did you ever fantasise about dominating Voldemort with your massive antlers? Maybe even impaling him somehow?'

'What? No. This is a really weird conversation.'

'It certainly is, and we've barely got started!' cried Lee. 'And speaking of starting, I understand you've been demoted to the Cannons reserves.'

Harry chuckled and said, 'That's right—Gemma is starting against the Falcons on Saturday. And I'll be in the skybenches watching.'

'What brought this about?' asked George. 'Are you being punished for something?'

'If I am, they haven't said so. Which would probably undermine the lesson.'

'Yes, and you're clearly not upset about it. To which I say, well done! Who would have thought that Britain's most egotistical wizard could be so humble?'

Sighing heavily, Harry said, 'I am never going to live down that article about my first party, am I? Even though it was mostly lies.'

'No, because it was bloody brilliant,' said George. 'Rita Skeeter did the world an enormous service by writing it. Between your colossal ego, your obscene wealth, and your all-around depravity, she created an absolute legend.'

'George is right,' said Lee. 'Someone should award her the Order of Merlin for that. But apparently you have a new rival in the ego department: Gilderoy Lockhart. I understand he's poised for a comeback.'

'He is,' replied Harry. 'And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish him well.'

'Are you out of your bleeding mind?' cried George. 'After what he did to you?'

'Light magic,' said Lee dismissively. 'Harry would forgive anyone at this point.'

'I didn't say I've forgiven him,' argued Harry.

'You wish him well, which is tantamount to forgiving him,' said George irritably. 'Even though he was a huge fraud, and the only reason he wasn't our worst defence professor is because the competition included Dolores Umbridge.'

Hermione suspected the edge in George's voice had to do with Ginny, and how Lockhart's incompetence had nearly cost her life.

'I'll wish anyone well as long as they're not deliberately hurting anyone,' said Harry, and Hermione felt a wave of admiration. I could never be that magnanimous, she thought, a little ashamed.

'Even Umbridge?' challenged George.

There was a brief silence before Harry replied. 'That's a complicated question. Personally, I find it dispiriting that she's such a miserable person. I honestly don't know if she's capable of happiness that's not at someone else's expense. To use a Muggle expression, it's almost as if she's wired wrong and can only take pleasure from inflicting suffering. So in that sense, I don't wish her well, because the only times I've seen her happy is when she's tormenting someone. And I think Voldemort was the same way.

'But I'd love if Umbridge could experience happiness the way the rest of us do,' he continued. 'And who knows, maybe I'm wrong—her office was covered with plates painted with kittens, so clearly those made her happy. Admittedly they're a bit twee, but there's nothing evil about them.'

'More than a bit twee,' said George. 'But you're right that people love kittens, as demonstrated by how popular Weasley's kitten-themed merchandise is.'

'Do you reckon we should send her something?' asked Lee. 'On behalf of Harry?'

Hermione shook her head, and she suspected Harry was doing the same. 'That's probably a bad idea,' he said. 'Unless something's changed, she really hates me, and she might take it as a huge insult.'

'It would be a huge insult, from me at least,' said Lee. 'She was a right cow and personally I'll never forgive her. But she's almost certainly listening, so maybe she'll realise you're sincere about wanting to cheer her up.'

'She'd probably be torn,' said George. 'On the one hand, Harry Potter—and I'm sure she hates that you're doing so well now. But on the other hand, kittens. She might not have any pictures in her cell, and if we sent her our Kitten-a-Day calendar and some Spellotape, I bet she'd love it, even if it is from you.'

Another pause, and Harry said, 'Well, now I have to do it. Because the only way she'd hate me more would be if I deliberately withheld kittens.'

'Excellent!' declared Lee. 'Will you write her a note?'

'No, I think that would be too much. Just send the calendar and some tape, and she'll work out the rest.'

'Come to think of it, she might already have your Undesirable Number One poster hanging in her cell,' said George. 'Or she will soon, if she has access to the Prophet. I'm sure I wasn't the only one surprised to see it this morning. Did you know it was coming?'

'I did. The people at WORF—the Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund—asked my permission before running it.'

'I'm glad you let them,' said Lee. 'Not only is it brilliant marketing, but it was a blast from the past. Although you really look like hell in that photograph—do you know when it was taken?'

'Yeah, I think so. Scrimgeour ambushed me during sixth year, hoping I'd endorse the Ministry's efforts. I refused, but I guess they held onto the photo.'

'Right, but were you hungover or something?'

'No, they must have altered it somehow.'

'Imagine if they'd used your "Man Who Lived" photo, or maybe one where you're glowing,' mused George. 'And yes, I know that would require time travel, but we're just speculating here.'

Hermione recalled those pictures, as well as his underwear photos, and she smiled to imagine the Ministry using them. 'I can definitely think of some other photos they could use,' said Lee, chuckling. 'But on that I'll say no more.'

'What's that all about?' asked Annie, but Hermione shushed her, not wanting to miss the broadcast.

'According to the article, you're all in for the WORF auction,' continued George. 'Not just your eyeglasses, but also your broken broomstick, signed merchandise, and—most intriguingly—a night on the town.'

'Not in your enormous bed?' asked Lee. 'I'm sure that would fetch a higher price.'

'No, WORF requires the date to be in public, for everyone's safety,' said Harry.

'Houses are undoubtedly being mortgaged as we speak,' declared George. 'Lordships sold, even.'

'But the real question,' said Lee, 'is who you're bringing to the gala. The bookmakers are offering odds, you know.'

'Really? Who are they predicting I'll bring?'

'The front-runner is Gemma Rees.'

'Gemma! Do they think we're dating?'

'Unclear. But people jumped to conclusions when she wore a tiara from the Black family vault to your party. Not to mention the robes, which looked suspiciously like something you'd wear.'

'They were my robes, but Gemma and I are just friends. My cousin Lisa borrowed robes as well.'

'Yes, she's also on the list,' said George. 'A close second, in fact.'

'Well, the answer is that I'm not bringing either of them. I'm not even allowed to date Gemma—it's against team rules.'

'Perhaps, but everyone knows the Cannons would do anything to keep you happy.'

'Maybe the team owners, but good luck getting Tuttle to agree to it.'

'Good point,' said George. 'So, who are you bringing?'

'No one. I'm going alone.'

'Listeners, did you hear that?' announced Lee, his voice urgent. 'Harry Potter-Black is single—repeat, single.'

'I didn't say that. All I said was that I wasn't bringing a date.'

'Oho, the plot thickens! Does this mean you're seeing someone?'

Hermione wondered how he'd answer, knowing Fiona didn't want to go public yet. And he's probably been instructed to downplay their relationship because of the auction, she thought.

'I have started seeing someone, but I'm making an attempt at a weird concept called "discretion." Which means I'm not bringing her to the gala.'

'Fascinating!' said George. 'Will you reveal anything about her? It's a her, right?'

'It is. And I definitely don't want to reveal anything identifying.'

'Come now—surely you can tell us something!'

'Hmm, let's see. I've known her a while, and I fancied her from the start. But we had several reasons for waiting until now.'

'What kind of reasons?' asked Lee.

'Er, that would probably count as identifying information. I'll just say that we decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. Life's too short, after all.'

'I'm sure the bookmakers are thrilled to hear it! Will we learn her name eventually?'

'Yes, I think so. Assuming I don't screw things up before then.'

Annie asked, 'Hermione, do you know who it is? We won't tell anyone.'

'Er, does placing a bet count?' asked Rupert.

'There's no way the bookmakers will know about her,' said Hermione. 'She's a school friend of Owen Barrowmaker. A widow, actually.'

Annie's eyes shot open, but George brought up the prophecy again, and Ryan said, 'You should listen—this is hilarious.'

'So, Harry, when did you learn there was a Black family prophecy about you? We all found out at your party, when you and Draco Malfoy got into a colossal row—which was brilliant, by the way.' Sighing fondly, he said, 'The two of you shouting at each other while dressed in women's clothing was a memory I'll cherish for the rest of my days, and then bequeath to my descendants.'

Harry sighed as well, but considerably less fondly. 'I never intended to reveal it, and certainly not in public. But, as you say, I lost my temper, and out it came. And, in answer to your question, I first heard it about a month ago, from one of the portraits.'

Lee said, 'I should inform our listeners that Harry did not actually share the contents of the prophecy in public. He merely rubbed it in Malfoy's face when he accused Harry of usurping House Black.'

'Lee, don't make me activate the delay,' said Harry ominously. 'Malfoy and I get on pretty well, all things considered.'

'Yes, of course. But back to the prophecy,' said George. 'We were all disappointed when you didn't reveal it, but more than one enterprising guest asked the portraits, who knew all about it. Do you know where it came from?'

'There was a Seer named Ophelia Black, and she made the prophecy around 1840, I think. Apparently it caused a bit of a stir within the family, but it was more or less forgotten by the time I turned up.'

'Shall I recite it, or do you want to?'

'Ugh, go ahead.'

George cleared his throat and read, 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will choose the scion of a lesser branch. Son of purity, son of sacrifice, his manhood will be of world renown. House Black will be reborn, greater than before.'

Annie and Rupert began laughing hysterically, and so did the in-store audience, Hermione assumed, since there was relative silence before the broadcast continued.

'So much here to unpack!' said Lee eagerly. 'First, "the scion of a lesser branch." You're only distantly related to Sirius, correct?'

'That's right. My great-grandmother was born a Black, but not from the head branch. Under normal circumstances, I would never have been Head of House.'

'But the family magic chose the scion of a lesser branch! And that's not your only qualification ... but what's this bit about "son of purity?" No offence, but that's not exactly how Walburga would describe you.'

Harry chuckled and said, 'Definitely not. But the prophecy also says "son of sacrifice," and together they refer to my parents.'

'Your mother's famous sacrifice,' said George. 'And your pureblood father. Well done, prophecy—it was probably completely baffling at the time, but it's perfectly clear in hindsight. And of course there's no mistaking the next line: "His manhood will be of world renown."'

'Bloody marvellous,' said Lee. 'Describes you to a tee. And I love the implication that the night so famously depicted in Sorceress was somehow predestined.'

'No, I refuse to believe that,' said Harry firmly, and Hermione felt a chill down her spine.

'Oh?'

'Nothing is predestined. Events might unfold for reasons that go beyond ordinary cause and effect, but there's no giant script we're all following.'

'Those are bold words,' said George. 'Is this the Light magic talking?'

'Er, I honestly don't know. It just came out.'

'Interesting! Would you care to elaborate?'

There was a brief silence, and Hermione could almost see Harry running a hand through his hair. 'Predestination, the way you're describing it, is completely lifeless. Even leaving out the question of free will, the idea that we're all just trapped in some cosmic plot is completely incompatible with human sentience—or any other sentience, for that matter.'

'But you're the subject of at least two prophecies,' said George. 'And they were both pretty accurate, by the sound of things. So how does that fit with what you're describing?'

'It's like a dance,' replied Harry. 'A huge, perfectly coordinated dance. Where everyone is exactly where they need to be at the appropriate time, because fundamentally we're all connected. I won't share the details of the prophecy Voldemort heard, but it identified me as someone with the power to defeat him, which is why he came after me as a baby. But I didn't have that power—my mother did, by sacrificing her own life. Which set things in motion for me to defeat him the second time.'

'Are you saying you and your mum and Voldemort were all connected?' asked Lee. 'And the rest of us, by extension?'

'Yes, although some bonds are closer than others. Voldemort inadvertently strengthened the bond between us, which is why I could speak Parseltongue until he died.'

Hermione stiffened, afraid he'd reveal too much, and George said, 'And you're sure that wasn't predestined?'

'Yes, I'm sure. I don't know why, but I am. There are probabilities, and some outcomes are more likely than others. But nothing is one hundred percent certain—not until it actually happens.'

Ryan and Annie both looked at Hermione for confirmation, but she couldn't provide any. Where did that come from? she wondered.

'Right, I'm going to just call this a "Light Lord" moment and move on,' said Lee. 'And speaking of Light magic, do you think that's what the prophecy is referring to when it says "House Black will be reborn, greater than before?"'

'I certainly hope so,' said Harry.

'Yes!' blurted George triumphantly. 'The Dark Arts can bite me!'

'Mate, you might want to rephrase that,' said Lee. 'I'm pretty sure Alastor Moody lost that chunk of his nose to a biting curse, and you're already missing one sensory appendage.'

'Good point. I hereby withdraw my previous statement and replace it with "The Dark Arts can go ram themselves."'

'Much better. So, Harry, do you think the prophecy refers to the Light Arts?'

'I do, but as George says it'll be much clearer in hindsight.'

'Seems clear enough to me,' said George. 'The portrait I talked to didn't think so, but he definitely believed the prophecy referred to you.'

'I assume he was less than thrilled?' asked Harry.

'No, he was delighted that House Black would become dominant again. But he thought you were an intermediate step, and that one of your descendants would be suitably Dark and greedy.'

'That's one interpretation,' admitted Harry, 'but Banthora Black—the portrait who told me about the prophecy—agrees with me.'

'Shall we try for a tiebreaker?' asked Lee. 'As it happens, we have a Black family portrait right here.'

Annie burst out laughing and said, 'How do they come up with this, week after week?'

'It's predestined,' said Rupert, smiling at her.

'Excuse me, Walburga?' said Lee. 'We have your least favourite relation here, and some exciting news!'

'Ugh, it's the thrice-damned usurper! What does he want?'

'He might be thrice-damned, but he's no usurper,' said George. 'Harry, do you want to tell her, or shall I?'

'Go right ahead,' said Harry. 'I'll watch.'

'Walburga, do you happen to remember a prophecy about the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black choosing the scion of a lesser branch?'

'This again,' she groaned. 'It's utter rubbish, cooked up by my great-great-uncle, who claimed to have heard it.'

'Oh? So you think he made it up?'

'Of course he did. He was jealous of his elder brother, who stood to inherit, so he plied mad cousin Ophelia with potions to induce her to make more "prophecies."'

'She made others?' asked Harry.

'Yes, so he claimed—each more dire than the last. "House Black will crumble into ashes," or "The once-vast mountain of gold will erode to a mere slag heap." Pure codswallop.'

'Er, those sound pretty accurate to me. No offence.'

'Wretched spawn!' she cried. 'Your every utterance is an offence!'

'Right, yes, it's the obligatory "I hate Harry" portion of the the show,' said Lee. 'But back to the prophecy—do you remember how it went?' She was silent, and Lee prompted her. 'Scion of a lesser branch ... son of purity, son of sacrifice ... renowned for his manhood.'

'Great Salazar! But it can't be you—not with your Mudblood mother!'

'Who sacrificed her life,' retorted George. 'Sorry Walburga, it's Harry.'

There was a stream of muttered cursing, but when Walburga addressed Harry she sounded almost triumphant. 'You're just a pawn,' she said.

'No, he's a knight at the very least,' said Lee.

'Riding a stag,' added George.

'What do you mean, I'm just a pawn?'

'The family magic is using you. Your current ascendance is due entirely to your affiliation with House Black. And when you're dead and forgotten, House Black will endure, majestically Dark as always.'

'Not so fast—he's actually pretty hard to kill,' said Lee. 'And he has a Chocolate Frog Card, so he'll never be forgotten.'

'And I'm sure he'll have heaps of portraits,' added George. 'Including one right here in the shop, next to Lee's and mine. Right, mate?'

'Oh, hell yes,' said Lee. 'Harry, are you in?'

'Er, this feels premature. But Walburga's right, I won't be remembered.'

'Ha! You admit it!'

'Of course I do. Other than my Chocolate Frog Card, I'll be completely forgotten in a few generations. And that's fine. But hopefully House Black will continue—as a Light family—and the Potters as well. And even if both families die out, as long as Light magic continues that's good enough for me.'

Hermione felt a deep wave of her own Light magic, and Annie said, 'Hermione, look! Your hair is sparking!'

'So it is,' said Hermione, pulling a curl where she could see it. How does he do that? she marvelled inwardly.

Ryan insisted she uncharm her hair entirely, which she did, drawing more oohs and ahhs from Annie. 'I can't believe Walburga Black triggered your Light magic!' she exclaimed.

It was Harry, she thought, running her hand down Ryan's back. My dandyish, underwear-modelling, hopelessly romantic twin brother. She pondered how different he was to Voldemort, who feared death more than anything. But Harry's not afraid of death, or even obscurity.

She barely heard the final minutes of Harry's interview. The only reason he's no longer a Gryffindor is because he's already perfectly brave, she mused. He was always reckless, and mostly unafraid to die, but he needed to develop the courage to live. And now that he has it, the Sorting Hat sent him to Slytherin, to broaden his reach. On the radio, for example.

'I swear, he's some kind of genius,' exclaimed Rupert after Harry's segment ended.

'How do you mean?' asked Hermione, who could think of several reasons.

'He doesn't hesitate, and everything he touches turns to gold,' said Rupert. 'Was he always this decisive?'

'Yes, although it didn't always work out well,' she said, thinking of their rescue mission to the Department of Mysteries. 'But the stronger his Light magic gets, the more he seems to get it right.'

'God, imagine living your life like that,' continued Rupert. 'I mean yeah, he's rich and famous, and the league's best Seeker, but I don't think he really cares. Does he?'

'He definitely enjoys it, but no, that's not who he is. If he had to choose between all that and his Light magic, there's no question what he'd pick.'

Rupert turned to Annie and said, 'Do you think I could join that class you're taking? Maybe you can catch me up on what I've missed.'

Annie's face lit up. 'I'd love that! And you'll enjoy it, I think. We haven't actually practised much magic—so far it's all about generating the right attitude, but the exercises are really sweet. Cultivating gratitude, that sort of thing.'

They kept the radio on but didn't listen as closely as they had during Harry's segment. Hermione enjoyed seeing Annie and Rupert together, and since he was Muggle-born, he and Ryan had plenty in common. Hermione's hair had stopped sparking, and Annie persuaded her not to charm it again. 'You really need to go out like that sometime,' she insisted.

'See, I told you so,' said Ryan. 'I want to start bringing her to concerts—small venues—and she'll look brilliant with her big cloud of hair.'

'No one will be able to see past me!' argued Hermione.

'No one can see past Ryan either,' said Annie. 'It'll be fine. But Hermione, you need to go one step further and tart yourself up. No one will recognise you in a Muggle setting, so you can really go for it.'

'Will you do the same?' asked Rupert, looking at Annie. She said she would, and Ryan immediately started flipping through a music magazine and earmarking shows he wanted to see.

Hermione leaned back on the sofa, reflecting on her eventful day. It feels good to have my Light magic out in the open, she thought. And Octavia's right—it is a big deal.

She told Annie about her plan to pursue a Mastery, and her hair started sparking again. 'Twice in one night?' exclaimed Ryan. 'Clearly you're doing something right.'

'Now I just need to learn to control it,' she said, laughing.

'Not too soon,' said Annie. 'A bit of chaos suits you. If Harry's the Light Lord, you're the Light Virago.'

'Oi!' cried Ryan. 'That's my girlfriend you're talking about!'

'What's a virago?' asked Rupert.

'Ryan, calm down,' said Hermione. 'Virago has two meanings, and I assume Annie's using the older one.'

'Of course I am! Obviously I'm not calling you a bitch.'

'Ryan, the original definition of virago is "a woman displaying extraordinary heroic qualities." But thanks to sexism, it's come to mean "bossy cow." I assume that's the definition you're familiar with?'

Ryan nodded sheepishly, and Hermione said, 'Some would say that describes me as well, and they wouldn't be wrong. But Annie, I love the original meaning, and I'd be honoured to be considered "the Light Virago."'

They enjoyed the rest of their evening together, and after Annie and Rupert left, Hermione and Ryan retreated to the bedroom to cap off her eventful day. Afterwards, he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, watching it spark again. 'I can't help thinking you unlocked something today, when you decided to pursue a Mastery.'

'I think you're right,' she replied, luxuriating in his presence. 'Merlin, I'm thrilled I'll be practising serious magic again! And yes, I'll drop some Sickles into the swear jar tomorrow, even though I invoked Merlin deliberately.'

'Invoke whoever you like,' he murmured. 'Particularly lying next to me in bed, wearing your sparkling blue crown. You don't need a tiara.'

Hermione's thoughts wandered to the tiara Gemma had worn, and which Harry's future bride might someday wear. But my magical crown suits me perfectly, she thought, drifting contentedly to sleep.