Author's note:
Thanks so much for the kind reviews! It makes me very happy to know that people are enjoying my fic, particularly during such a stressful time.
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Hermione's favourite part of her early-morning Spinning class was the walk home afterwards. She felt energy running through her body and also the satisfaction of having exercised while others were still hunched over their morning tea. And now I'm free to pore over books all day at work and not worry I'm just another sedentary wizard.
She drifted into the house and went straight upstairs to shower, bypassing her parents in the kitchen. She'd talk to them soon enough, but this was her time to bask in mental silence, before her verbal mind regained control.
'How was class today?' asked Emily when Hermione came down for breakfast.
'It was good. The instructor actually referred to me as a regular—can you believe it?'
'You've attended three classes a week for the past three weeks,' observed Daniel. 'That sounds pretty regular to me.'
'And your father's gone swimming twice now,' said Emily.
'That's hardly impressive,' argued Daniel, 'but I'm hoping to establish a habit now that I have my range of motion back.'
'How many more doses of that potion do you have to take?' asked Hermione.
'I'm done, thank Merlin! And yes, I'll drop a pound into the swear jar, even though I was using the phrase deliberately. Good lord, that stuff was foul—I'm certain there's a market niche for an additive that makes potions more palatable.'
'There probably is,' said Hermione, 'but I can't be bothered to pursue it.'
When she finished preparing her breakfast, she sat at the table and unrolled the Daily Prophet. 'Harry's not on the front page,' she said with relief.
'That's only first hurdle,' said Emily. 'What about the gossip column?'
'I'll save that for last, since it's usually the most infuriating,' said Hermione, opening to the sport news. 'Oh, there's a photograph of him with Gemma, the new Cannons Seeker. Goodness, she's tiny.'
'She looks like she can hardly believe she's there,' said Emily.
'You're right,' said Hermione, examining the photo more closely. 'I can see flashes of something resembling doubt that all this is happening. But that makes sense—she's just been whisked from obscurity and is having her picture taken with Britain's most famous wizard.'
'And sex symbol,' added Emily.
Hermione ignored her and continued reading the article. 'Look at that! It says she attended East Kettleton School of Magic! Ryan said when he was promoted to starter, the Prophet omitted his schooling altogether.'
'At least they didn't accuse him of truancy,' said Daniel.
Hermione nodded with satisfaction after finishing the article. 'The Prophet clearly accepted the Glowpox story. And fortunately they didn't make insinuations about Harry and Gemma.'
Next she turned to the gossip column and inhaled sharply. 'There's another photo of him, this time with Lydia. And an item ... oh for heaven's sake!'
The text was short and to the point:
Harry Potter might not have Glowpox, but he clearly has a bad case of the Travers—Lydia Travers! Last night the illicit lovebirds fogged the windows at Thistlerod, and they practically melted our photographer's camera with their white-hot alchemy.
When asked about Miss Travers at the Cannons training grounds on Wednesday, Potter repeatedly said, 'We're very happy right now but it's not a long-term relationship.' And yet that evening he admitted he's no Seer: 'I couldn't have predicted a lot of things, including surviving the war and falling for a Travers.' Has Cupid's Arrow struck this quickly? Or will his wandering eye soon fall upon yet another aspirant to the Light Lothario's legendary bed?
'The Light Lothario?' said Emily. 'Is that what they're calling him now?'
'Apparently,' grumbled Hermione. 'I can't keep up.'
'Well, they certainly make a striking couple, with her so fair and Harry so dark. Dark-haired, that is.'
'Ugh, but she's completely wrong for him!'
'How do you mean?' asked Emily.
'She's like a spoilt child! I suppose it's admirable she rejected blood purity and all the rest, but she's never had to work for a single thing in her life—it's all been handed to her. Even Harry ... all she had to do was crook her finger and he came running.'
'You said she rejected Dark magic,' said Emily. 'Surely that counts for something.'
'Yes, because it's bad for her complexion,' scoffed Hermione, and Emily gave her a sceptical look. 'Well, not exactly ... the way she explained it was that her sister developed a sneer when she started practising the Dark Arts, and Lydia didn't fancy developing one as well.'
'That was very observant of her,' said Emily. 'It sounds like she has good instincts.'
'Are you deliberately provoking me? You don't seem to trust my impression of her.'
'I'm sure your impression is accurate. But there are multiple ways of interpreting the same data.'
'You mean there's a version where she's not just using Harry?'
'Her affection seems genuine,' said Emily, looking at the photo. 'Her attraction, anyway.'
Hermione recalled that her mother hadn't seen the article in Sorceress magazine, and she had no desire to tell her about it. 'I'm certain she's getting plenty out of the arrangement. And I'll give her credit for showing gratitude, and for admiring him. But she acts like his qualities are a reflection of her own good taste, rather than an indication of his character.'
'You've clearly given Lydia a lot of thought. Are you certain you can be civil to her at dinner tonight?'
'Of course I can,' snapped Hermione. 'She's very engaging, and I can't deny she's trying to improve herself. But mercy, it'll be something to watch her interact with Lucinda!'
Hermione would have preferred not to think about Lydia Travers until evening, but unfortunately her Ministry colleagues were fascinated by Harry's latest love affair and kept asking for her opinion. 'Neither of them wants to marry,' she said. 'Lydia is moving out next week.'
'I'd never have thought Harry Potter would date someone from a Death Eater family. You'd think he'd know better than that,' said one colleague.
'Yes, you would think that,' said Hermione. 'But apparently long blond hair makes it all right.'
'She's awfully brazen,' said one of the secretaries disapprovingly. 'Chasing after him like that, and then flaunting their intimacy. A witch's reputation is her most precious possession, you know.'
'Her most precious possession? Really?' said Hermione. 'More precious than her intellect, or her magic? More precious than her wand?'
'Wands can be replaced,' replied the secretary. 'Virtue, on the other hand ...'
'So it would have been more virtuous for her to marry someone she didn't love and keep espousing blood purity?'
'Well, no. But she needn't have put herself on display like that.'
'What about Harry?' persisted Hermione. 'He's on the radio every week talking about his latest conquest.'
'Potter's a wizard, and he defeated You-Know-Who,' said the secretary primly. 'He's entitled to sow his wild oats before settling down.'
'That's a double standard!' said Hermione. She squared her shoulders and asked, 'What if I told you I'm in an intimate relationship with Ryan Bellamy?'
'First thing, you should keep that to yourself,' said the secretary. 'And if you're clever you'll find out what his intentions are.'
'What about my intentions? Maybe I'm the one who's toying with him.'
'That's a dangerous game,' warned the secretary. 'You're nearly twenty, after all.'
Hermione rolled her eyes and went to the Ministry library to continue her research. Octavia had tasked her with researching wizard-goblin relations overseas and building a case for revoking the more severe restrictions on goblin freedoms. But they'd have to convince the Wizengamot, which would be an uphill battle. She'd told Hermione, 'We'll have to prove it would benefit wizards as well, otherwise they'll never agree to it.'
Octavia's assignment was growing into a Masters-level research project, which suited Hermione perfectly. She was able to flex her critical thinking skills, and she'd already filled several notebooks with colour-coded citations. Time passed quickly as she worked, and only the rumbling of her stomach told her it was time for lunch.
Her quickest option was to eat in the Ministry cafeteria, but several more people asked her about Harry and Lydia while she was in line, and she knew she'd be stuck answering questions all through lunch if she stayed. So she took her food back to the library, knowing the librarian would turn a blind eye.
She decided to engage in some leisure reading over lunch and went to the card catalogue in search of books about Light magic. There were several promising-looking titles, but unfortunately none of them were on the shelves.
This isn't a lending library, thought Hermione, frowning. She decided to ask the librarian what had happened to them. 'Madam Flyleaf? Do you know what might have happened to these books, and when they might be available?' she asked, showing her the list.
'Let's have a look,' said the librarian. Mysteries of Light Magic ... A Beginner's Guide to the Light Arts ... hmm,' she muttered. 'I'll have to consult the register of interdepartmental loans.'
Madam Flyleaf pulled a large volume from the shelf behind her desk and cast a charm to find the appropriate listings. 'Aha, they were borrowed by the Department of Mysteries several years ago.'
'Several years ago!' exclaimed Hermione. 'Is that permitted, taking books from the library for so long?'
'Not normally, but the DOM has a special exemption.'
Following a hunch, Hermione asked, 'Does it say who borrowed them?'
'Yes,' began Madam Flyleaf, peering through the magnifying glass she wore on a chain. 'Oh dear. Rookwood.'
Augustus Rookwood was a Death Eater who had worked for the Department of Mysteries during the First Wizarding War, and again during the year Voldemort had controlled the Ministry. Hermione could only speculate as to why he'd wanted those books—perhaps to research ways of defeating Light wizards, or to hide the books from someone who hoped to oppose Voldemort using Light magic.
'Can we get them back?' asked Hermione. 'Surely they belong here in the library.'
'They certainly do!' said Madam Flyleaf, with the vehemence of her profession. 'I'll send a request right away—with any luck we'll have them back within a fortnight.'
'Thank you,' replied Hermione, but she couldn't hide her disappointment about needing to wait.
'Are you interested in the Light Arts?Of course you are ... perhaps this book will get you started,' said Madam Flyleaf, walking towards the stacks.
Hermione followed her eagerly, and the librarian pulled a fat tome from the shelves. 'A Survey of Magical Methods, Second Edition,' murmured Hermione.
'Obviously it's not exclusively about the Light Arts, but it has an entire chapter about them. I'm sorry I can't offer you more, but hopefully you'll find something useful.'
'I'm certain I will,' replied Hermione, before taking the book and returning to her table.
She propped it on a stand and opened it to the appropriate chapter, which was simply called 'The Light Arts.' Carefully eating her lunch, she began reading:
This arcane branch of magic is little known or practised in modern times, but the Light Arts were once considered the crowning achievement of a wizard's education. In past centuries, Light magic was taught to a witch or wizard after coming of age, after they'd gained proficiency in the foundational subjects. However, it fell out of favour due to several converging factors: (1) The difficulty of mastering even the basics of Light magic, particularly compared with the more easily apprehended Dark Arts; (2) Changing philosophical currents in the eighteenth century, coinciding with the so-called Age of Enlightenment amongst Muggle philosophers; and (3) The untimely death of more than two dozen European Light Masters in the Dragon Pox epidemic of 1793.
Although some Light practices are commonplace, like the Patronus Charm, and the Light Arts live on in family magic—most often in the form of protection spells—contemporary adherents of Light magic are largely isolated from the larger wizarding community. The apparent reasons for this sequestration are Light magic's reputation for being hard to learn and a societal lack of appreciation for the qualities that define the Light wizard. Light wizards are often derided as weak for eschewing violent curses and other traditional battle methods, when in fact true Light magic is a far more powerful weapon than even the Darkest curses.
At the heart of Light magic is an unorthodox and difficult-to-grasp view of the individual. Much of Western philosophy is founded on dualism: the idea that mind and matter are separate. This extends to the notion that subject and object are separate—that the perceiver is distinct from that which is perceived. Although this may sound like a mere academic detail, it has huge ramifications in human behaviour and perception. Furthermore, the person who grasps its opposite in a moment of gnosis will thenceforth be primed for Light practices.
And what is the opposite of dualism? Mere words are insufficient to describe it. In fact, words are by their very nature distinct from the concept they represent, which imposes further duality. It is perhaps easier to describe the fruits of non-dual understanding, which include but are not restricted to a deep sense of impersonal love; a recognition that all phenomena—including the self—are mere elaborations; and ultimately a profound sense of equanimity towards all elaborations.
How, then, does this relate to the practice of magic? This is best answered using the analogy of the Dark Arts. It is well known that Dark curses rely on more than just the caster's magical strength—they rely also on intent. This is often summarised by the instruction, 'You have to mean it,' signifying that the caster must deeply wish to inflict harm on their opponent. Recalling our earlier definition of dualism, the Dark Arts rely heavily on the notion that our opponent is in no way connected to ourselves. In Light magic, however, the caster recognises that they are only nominally separate from others, and that hatred is incompatible with that understanding. Even a nascent grasp of non-duality is sufficient to unlock the practice of Light magic, which will only serve to reinforce and strengthen the underlying realisations.
Hermione recalled the extraordinary conversation she'd had with Luna Lovegood nearly two months earlier. 'Who are you?' Luna had asked repeatedly. And when Hermione attempted to answer, Luna persisted with, 'And what is that?' Eventually Hermione had felt a small catch in her mind, a momentary blip that defied description, and she knew that all she had ever been was an elaboration. She also recalled overwhelming sensations of love, transcending mere personal attachment.
That's when my life changed, she thought. The changes hadn't manifested immediately, but right from the start she felt more connected with her own body. It's as if my head was attached to my torso for the first time, she recalled. The next day she was desperate to fly on a broom, which led to the start of her relationship with Ryan. And it was a far more physical relationship than she'd shared with Ron. An outsider might assume that Hermione was more physical with Ryan because he was so good-looking, but Hermione knew the difference was deeper than that. She felt more alive than she'd felt before, resulting in more powerful biological urges.
She paused to chuckle. Typical Hermione, she thought, over-analysing my primal urges. But then she realised, Oh my god, I'm experiencing Light magic too! I may not be glowing, but clearly something has changed.
She scanned through the chapter, searching for familiar experiences, and soon found one:
While most practitioners of Light magic report a decreased motivation to engage in so-called virtuous habits such as climbing stairs to stay fit, a small minority describe the opposite. Previously over-cerebral, these practitioners became much more physical upon their initiation into the Light Arts, and even became athletic in spite of a previous aversion. Practitioners also report increased appreciation of art, music, or other forms of human creativity.
Ha! she thought triumphantly. My morning Spinning class is a Light Arts practice, including the music they're playing at top volume.
But her familiar self-doubt returned. Why don't I glow? My magic is far more powerful than Harry's, but I've never lit up once, she thought, looking at her frustratingly non-illuminated hands. She supposed she'd have to ask the instructor on Sunday, assuming she was willing to take Hermione on as a pupil.
She'd long since finished eating and knew she ought to return to her research, but she had to finish at least skimming the chapter. The last paragraph was particularly intriguing:
Although Light magic is of unparalleled value in battle, adherents consider this a secondary application of the practice. Ultimately they consider Light magic a highly personal journey, relying increasingly less on outside instruction and more on well-trained intuition. The apotheosis of the Dark Arts is the terrible and all-powerful Dark Lord, near-immortal and barely human, but the highest embodiment of the Light Arts is a humble but transcendently happy witch or wizard who lives only to serve others and identify opportunities for further self-improvement. We yearn for a future where the Light Arts regain their former preeminence and all society—both magical and Muggle—can benefit.
Hermione closed the book and returned it to its shelf. Why aren't the Light Arts more popular? she wondered. She understood the reasons they'd fallen out of fashion, yet the benefits sounded extraordinary and well worth the effort.
But back to goblin-wizard relations, she thought, and she plunged back into her research for the rest of the afternoon.
After work she went straight to Ryan's flat and changed into a Muggle outfit in preparation for dinner that night. She stayed in Cambridge about half the time and he'd graciously provided space in his wardrobe and bureau. 'I can always charm them larger if I need to,' he'd said, 'but until I develop a Potter-sized appetite for wizarding robes it won't be necessary.'
She was renewing the charm on her hair when she heard him Apparate into the lounge. 'I'm in here,' she called from the bedroom, but she walked out to meet him anyway.
'There's nothing like coming home to you,' said Ryan, lifting her from the ground and into his arms.
'What's this all about?' she asked after he kissed her. 'Not that I'm complaining, of course.'
'It's because I love you and couldn't help myself. Can you un-charm your hair?'
'I just charmed it!' she replied. 'And besides, we need to leave in ten minutes for your parents' house. You'll just have to settle for nineties Hermione instead of seventies glamour model Hermione.'
He put her down on the sofa and said, 'Ten minutes isn't bad. We can listen to Pulp again and reenact our first date.'
'Did Harry start glowing again today?' she asked. 'I think it's rubbing off on you.'
'He did, but I don't need an extenuating circumstance when I'm around you.'
'Oh no! Did anyone see him? What happened?'
'It was fine,' said Ryan. 'It was after the practice match—Gemma caught the Snitch and Harry threw his arms around her and started glowing. But the sun was out, so no one would have seen it from a distance.'
'Gemma caught the Snitch already?'
'Owen instructed her to track Harry the entire time, since that's her best bet until her spotting improves. And she's probably the fastest flyer I've ever seen—she managed to catch up with Harry and grab the Snitch out from under him.'
'That sounds dramatic! What's she like?' asked Hermione.
'I've only talked to her a little so far—she eats lunch with the reserves—but she seems thrilled to have the job. Apparently she was working at a Muggle restaurant until this week.' He leaned towards Hermione and said, 'But we're wasting precious time,' and they didn't speak until it was time to leave for dinner.
They Apparated to the shed behind Ryan's parents' house and emerged into the back garden, where Walter was gathering vegetables. 'Hermione, do you like tomatoes?' he asked. 'And what about Harry and Lydia?'
'I'll never turn down a home-grown tomato, and Harry will eat anything, but I have no idea about Lydia. All I can suggest is that if you're serving grapes, you should peel them first.'
'Hermione, don't prejudice my dad like that,' scolded Ryan.
'You're right, I'm sorry.'
Walter was laughing and said, 'Lucinda has been preparing me, but I'm sure I can handle it. I had a few posh classmates at university, so I'm familiar with the type.'
They went inside the house, which was in wizarding mode. 'Are you planning to switch to Muggle mode at some point?' asked Hermione.
'Lucinda wanted to start in Muggle mode, but I suggested we ease our guest into it. She'll probably be more comfortable in a familiar setting.'
'Is that Ryan and Hermione?' called Lucinda from the kitchen. 'Would you gather some flowers for the vase on the table? I don't trust your father to do it.'
'That would be a good task for Harry,' suggested Hermione. 'And Lydia as well.'
'Good point,' said Lucinda, who had entered the dining room. 'In fact, that's a classic psychological tactic for winning over an adversary.'
'Making them gather flowers?' said Walter.
'No, you intolerable beast—asking a small favour,' replied his wife. 'Take these shears,' she told Ryan, 'and wait for them in the lounge.'
Ryan and Hermione bypassed the kitchen and walked directly to the lounge, where they waited opposite the fireplace. A minute later it flared green and Lydia stepped out, followed by Harry.
Hermione was once again struck by how pretty she was, with her long blond hair and graceful bearing. Lydia was very elegantly attired in a flowered dress, with high-heeled shoes and a matching handbag, which made Hermione feel underdressed in a blouse and jeans.
'Hermione, it's lovely to see you again,' she said, air-kissing her, and she extended her hand to Ryan in a manner that made Hermione wonder whether she expected him to kiss it. But Ryan just shook Lydia's hand and welcomed them.
'How's your Glowpox?' Hermione asked Harry, who was smartly dressed in a Muggle shirt and trousers.
'I don't have Glowpox,' he insisted, 'but I'm still having side-effects from the vaccine. I'm consulting an expert on Sunday night.'
'My mother has a task for you,' said Ryan, handing Harry the shears and leading them through the house to the back garden. Lydia seemed unimpressed by the house, but she grabbed Harry's hand when they walked outside.
'Oh, Harry, it's so beautiful! I want a garden like this one day, after I'm married.'
At least she didn't say, 'After we're married,' thought Hermione. 'It takes a lot of work to maintain a garden like this,' she said dryly, anticipating Lydia's reply.
'I'd have a gardener,' she said simply, 'or one of the elves could take care of it.'
'Actually, you might enjoy gardening,' said Harry, who was gathering a bouquet. 'Some of it is unpleasant, like spreading compost and removing slugs, but it can also be very satisfying. I did a lot of gardening as a kid, you know.'
'Yes, for your horrid Muggle relations,' replied Lydia. 'I'm surprised you can even stand flowers.'
'How could I not like flowers?' he said, holding the small bouquet up to her. 'They're alive, but fragile, and so beautiful. I don't understand why everyone isn't mad about flowers.'
Lydia inhaled with visible pleasure. 'They are, now that you've started wearing them,' she said affectionately.
Hermione shot a glance at Ryan, who smiled back at her. Harry and Lydia strolled through the garden together, assembling a bouquet, and a few minutes later they walked back inside.
'Harry, those are lovely,' said Lucinda, taking the flowers from him and placing them into the vase, which was already half-filled with water. 'And you must be Lydia,' she added, extending her hand. 'I'm Lucinda Bellamy.'
'It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Bellamy,' replied Lydia politely as she shook Lucinda's hand. 'Thank you for inviting us to dinner.'
'I consider it an educational opportunity,' she said, not indicating who she thought was being educated. 'Walter, come and meet Harry and Lydia.'
Walter emerged from the kitchen with a basket full of sliced bread, which he set on the table. 'I'm Walter Bellamy,' he said warmly.
Lydia held out her hand and said, 'I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Bellamy. I'm Lydia Travers.' Walter shook Lydia's hand, and afterwards she looked at Harry, who nodded in approval.
'It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Bellamy,' said Harry, and Ryan's parents insisted Harry and Lydia call them by their given names. Walter also thanked Harry for ending the war, and as usual Harry praised Hermione, Ron, and everyone else who'd helped him.
Lucinda returned to the kitchen, and everyone else went to the lounge. Before sitting down, Lydia looked at the photographs, taking extra time to examine the pictures of Ryan with his Muggle grandparents. She was mostly quiet during the conversation, which Hermione grudgingly approved. She's watching how Harry interacts with Walter, thought Hermione.
Eventually Lucinda called them to the table, and Lydia waited for Harry to pull out her chair. Oh for mercy's sake, thought Hermione. Can't you even pull out your own chair?
'I understand Walter's the first Muggle you've met, other than shop clerks and the like,' said Lucinda.
'That's correct,' replied Lydia. 'But he seems like a fine person.'
'He's right there,' said Harry, indicating Walter. 'You needn't refer to him as if he weren't present.'
'She started it!' protested Lydia, prompting Lucinda and Walter to laugh.
'Lydia's right,' said Walter. 'Lucinda, where are your manners?'
'I haven't any. Haven't you learnt that yet?'
'Excuse me, Lucinda?' said Lydia tentatively. 'If I might ask, how did your family react when you told them you were marrying a Muggle?'
'They were horrified. My parents kept asking where they'd gone wrong. My sister cried because she was convinced my children wouldn't be magical, which meant her children—who weren't even born yet—would grow up without cousins. I pointed our that our children would be cousins regardless, and she got upset and said, "You know what I meant."
'And that was just the half-bloods,' she continued. 'The pure-bloods refused to attend the wedding, except for my great-uncle, who tried to spoil the ceremony by releasing frogs just before I walked down the aisle.'
'Are you joking?' said Hermione. 'What was he trying to accomplish?'
'There's a wizarding superstition about frogs at a wedding,' said Lydia. 'It's like seeing a Grim, only they're an omen for an unhappy marriage.'
'Exactly,' said Lucinda. 'He was hoping I'd get cold feet, but of course I didn't. We invited all the children in attendance to collect the frogs, and then we had races during the reception. The child who picked the winning frog got the first bite of wedding cake, even before Walter and I had any.' She turned and said, 'Ryan, I hope you'll have frogs at your wedding—it was splendid.'
Ryan confirmed that he would, and Lydia asked another question. 'Walter, did you want your children to be magical or Muggle?'
'I was hoping for magical children,' he said. 'In my ignorance I thought it would be fun watching the little tykes make their toys fly around. But then we had Ryan and he made the nursery look like something out of "The Exorcist." It happened once when my sister was over, and it nearly scared her to death. I had to keep her calm for half an hour until Lucinda came home and could Obliviate her.'
'Ad infinitum,' grumbled Lucinda. 'Thank heaven he was cute, or else we'd have left him at St Mungo's and never looked back.'
'These stories get worse every time I hear them,' said Ryan. 'I'm certain my parents are just exaggerating for effect.'
'No we're not,' said Lucinda. She turned to the others and said, 'He looks innocent now, but it was like having a poltergeist.'
'Why did you insist on raising him in a Muggle environment?' asked Lydia. 'Couldn't you just have moved away for ten years and then returned once your children could control themselves?'
'And raise them without their grandparents and cousins on that side?' countered Lucinda. 'Walter's parents welcomed me into the family just as my own relations were rejecting me. And when Ryan was born they loved him wholeheartedly, unlike my family who were waiting for him to prove whether he deserved their affection. I refused to repay Walter's parents by moving to America for ten years and depriving them of a grandchild they loved, to say nothing of Walter.'
Lydia was nodding slowly. 'Yes, that makes sense. You'd be punishing the wrong party.' She paused and added, 'But why marry a Muggle in the first place? I can understand having a mad love affair—I'm absolutely gaga about Harry. But I'd never marry him!'
'Why not?' asked Lucinda.
'They're too young!' blurted Hermione. 'And Harry won't propose marriage until he's at least twenty-one.'
'So live in sin,' said Lucinda. 'You can't shock the wizarding public more than you've done already.'
'I don't want to live with anyone—not even Harry. I want my own flat, which I'll have next week, and to decorate it however I choose. If I were to stay with Harry it would turn into real life and we'd start quarrelling and I'd hate it. I'd much rather have a torrid love affair and then cry for a week when it's over.'
'You might reconsider that during your week of crying,' said Lucinda, 'but it sounds like you know your own mind. As for why I married Walter, as opposed to just disappearing from his life ... I fell in love. And I knew I'd never meet a wizard with the qualities I admired most about him.'
'Such as?' prompted Lydia.
Lucinda looked fondly at her husband. 'His brilliant mind. There are brilliant wizards of course, but none of them approach a problem the way a well-educated Muggle does. When we were still dating, Walter and I borrowed his friend's car and drove to the seaside, and the car broke down on a deserted road. Obviously I didn't know the first thing about cars, and I hadn't yet revealed I was a witch, so I couldn't help. I assumed the situation was hopeless, but Walter opened the bonnet and simply used logic to diagnose the problem. And then he devised a workaround using nothing but a pair of my stockings—we were back on the road in less than an hour.'
'But a wizard could have just used his wand,' argued Lydia. 'Or you could have just Apparated and skipped the car altogether.'
'It wasn't the car,' said Lucinda. 'It was watching him as he worked out the problem and devised a solution with his own bare hands. No wizard could have done that.'
'Hermione could,' said Harry, and Ryan nodded emphatically.
'She's the exception that proves the rule,' declared Lucinda. 'And her parents are Muggles.'
'But not all Muggles are logical,' said Hermione. 'If they were, the world would be completely different.'
'For one thing, we'd have worked out that magic exists,' said Walter. 'I can't believe I never realised it before Lucinda revealed it to me—it was in plain sight the whole time.'
'How do you mean?' asked Harry.
'Once I turned off the part of my mind that dismissed or rationalised anything I couldn't explain, I started seeing evidence everywhere I looked. People in robes disappearing into solid walls, for example. Or doorways that are visible from the corner of my eye, but not straight on. I reckon I could see the Leaky Cauldron from the outside if I relaxed my conventional perceptions enough.'
'You should go to Paris and see whether you can spot points Magi,' suggested Harry.
'He did see one of them,' said Lucinda. 'Spotted it before I did, in fact.'
'Only for a moment,' said Walter. 'And then it disappeared again. If Lucinda hadn't confirmed it was there, I would have thought it was just a trick of the light.'
'Are you certain you're not part magical?' asked Lydia.
'He's definitely not a Squib,' replied Lucinda. 'No, there's no reason to believe he's not a Muggle through and through.'
'She's right,' said Walter. 'I once compared notes with a Squib—one of Lucinda's cousins—and she could easily see things I couldn't.'
'But aren't you jealous?' asked Lydia. 'Don't you wish you were magical too? I was taught that secrecy is important because Muggles would rather wipe out wizards than live with their own envy.'
'Yes, I'm occasionally envious of things Lucinda and Ryan can do—particularly magical transport. And I'd certainly enjoy the enhanced healing ability, and the longer lifespan. But from what I've observed, wizards aren't any happier on average than Muggles are, and I suspect magic is subject to hedonic adaptation just like anything else.'
'What's hedonic adaptation?' asked Harry.
'It's the human tendency to revert to a relatively stable level of happiness in spite of major positive or negative life changes,' explained Walter. 'For example, someone who receives a huge pay rise often experiences a short-term boost in happiness but then returns to their previous set point. It's the same with people who experience negative events, like a life-altering car accident. Admittedly this doesn't hold true for everyone, but that's the general idea.'
Lydia was frowning, 'So even though witches and wizards have the huge advantage of magic, we aren't necessarily happier than Muggles?'
'That's what I've observed,' said Walter. 'Lucinda, would you agree?'
'Absolutely.'
'I'm not sure I agree about hedonic adaptation,' said Harry. 'I'm far happier now that the war is over, or even since I quit working for the Ministry.'
Hermione said, 'Harry, there's an obvious reason you've been happier since the war ended.' She pointed discreetly to the spot on her forehead corresponding to where Harry had his scar.
'Good point. But what about since I left the Ministry?'
'Perhaps because you're on a broomstick all day?' suggested Ryan.
'But so is Andrew Gilstrap, and he's a miserable sod.'
'Is he the one you punched?' asked Lucinda.
'The very same,' said Harry. 'Lydia, what did your family think when I punched him?'
'My father said it proved you were uncouth. A proper wizard would have cursed him.'
Lucinda laughed out loud. 'I never fail to be amused by the wizarding notion that curses are less barbaric than other forms of violence.'
'But they are!' insisted Lydia. 'A curse is far more elegant than Muggle weaponry.'
'She's right about some Muggle weapons,' said Walter. 'Chemical weapons, for example, or firebombing.'
'How is firebombing worse than Fiendfyre?' argued Hermione. 'At least firebombing doesn't happen on a whim, whereas a single unhinged wizard can cast Fiendfyre,' she said, recalling Vincent Crabbe's deadly attack in the Room of Hidden Things.
'And the Cruciatus Curse,' said Ryan. 'What a hideous misuse of magic.'
Everyone was silent, and Harry said, 'We seem to have established that wizards and Muggles are equally horrible.'
'Humans are horrible,' said Lucinda. 'And brilliant. We're all humans, for heaven's sake!'
'My head is spinning,' said Lydia.
'How do you mean?' asked Harry.
'I was prepared to be polite to Walter, and not to speak to him like he's a goblin,' she began.
'You've done admirably,' said Lucinda. 'You haven't once asked him to take you to your vault.'
Lydia frowned and said, 'But I didn't expect to see him as a person.'
'And this is bad why?' asked Harry.
'Because everything I've learnt is false,' she said. 'How would you like it if all the adults in your life had lied to you, and manipulated you to perpetuate their beliefs?'
Hermione was dumbstruck. For a carefully raised pure-blood, Lydia is remarkably unfiltered.
'I hated it,' said Harry. 'I still do.'
'I was told Muggles are vermin,' said Lydia, who was starting to cry. 'That you're subhuman. If I'd continued studying the Dark Arts, they'd have had me practice Dark curses on Muggles.'
'And you stopped,' said Harry, stroking her hair. 'You rejected the Dark Arts.'
Lydia leaned towards Harry, and he put his arm around her. 'Walter, I'm so sorry,' she sniffled. 'Wizards are horrid. My relations are horrid—they supported Voldemort. For all I know, I'm related to whoever murdered your parents.'
'Perhaps you are,' replied Walter. 'But you've chosen a different path.'
'I did,' she said. 'But I want to go home and scream at my parents!'
'I tried that,' said Lucinda. 'With my parents, that is. I told them how narrow-minded they were for rejecting Walter, and that they were no better than Grindelwald. In hindsight, that wasn't the best way to win them over.'
'So what should I do?' asked Lydia.
'Good question. I can't advise you, not knowing your parents. But there's certainly no use in burning any more bridges.'
'Love,' blurted Harry. 'The antidote is love. Snape turned from the Dark Arts because he loved my mother, even after she was dead.' He paused and said, 'In fact, maybe it worked because she was dead, and he no longer had the ulterior motive of trying to win her.'
Hermione was startled by how certain Harry sounded. That was how he sounded during the war, when he insisted we needed to break into Gringotts, she recalled.
'But I'm so angry at them!' insisted Lydia. 'Harry, they convinced me that you were a liar and a terrorist, and that the war was your fault. I can't recall how many times I wished you'd just hurry up and die.' She turned to Hermione. 'And they said the most awful things about you.'
'I'm sure they did,' said Hermione. 'But remember they were products of their upbringing, just like anyone else.'
'And wizards aren't trained in critical thinking,' added Lucinda. 'Lydia, you should thank your lucky stars for the instinct that turned you away from all that.'
Harry was looking at Lydia affectionately. 'My brilliant, beautiful Slytherin,' he murmured, and Hermione could see that his hands were starting to glow.
'Is that what I think it is?' said Lucinda dryly. Harry's eyes were closed but he nodded in reply. 'Why don't I wrap up some cake for you and send you home. I think Lydia could do with some exposure to pure love.'
Harry nodded again and rose from the table. He opened his eyes and gazed longingly at Lydia as she stood from her chair. Lucinda hurried into the kitchen and returned with a plate covered with aluminium foil. 'Your face is glowing as well,' she chided. 'You'll never keep it a secret at this rate.'
'I could control it if I wanted to,' replied Harry, prompting Lucinda and Walter to laugh.
Lydia took the plate and said, 'Thank you, for everything. It's been a pleasure meeting both of you. And Ryan, thanks for suggesting it.'
'Can I Apparate from here?' asked Harry, who was glowing brightly and had wrapped an arm around Lydia.
'From the back garden,' replied Lucinda. 'But be quick about it, so you don't attract attention.' She opened the sliding glass door for them, and in a moment they were outside.
'I love you,' called Harry, and with a loud crack they were gone.
'I really shouldn't have let them Apparate,' admitted Lucinda, 'but he clearly didn't want to be apart from her, which Floo travel would have required.' She brought the rest of the pudding to the table, and the four of them finished eating.
'What an extraordinary young woman,' said Walter.
'Were you offended by anything she said?' asked Hermione.
'Not at all. On the contrary, it was refreshing to be addressed so bluntly. Most wizards just dance around those questions, but she blurted them right out.'
Lucinda smirked and said, 'Who could have foreseen you'd appreciate bluntness?'
Hermione was still astonished by everything she'd witnessed, including Harry's accidental Light magic. 'Lucinda, I have to admit I was expecting you to tear her to shreds.'
'Am I such a monster?' she exclaimed.
'No, not at all. But I didn't anticipate Lydia would be so receptive to Walter. I assumed she'd make all the usual mistakes. and then some.'
'You mean because she has no filter?' said Lucinda. 'That's true, but she was remarkably open-minded, and she clearly wants Harry's approval. I don't think I've ever met anyone as charismatic as he is.'
'That's because you've never met yourself,' said Walter.
'You're biased,' she said fondly. 'But Harry has a tremendous opportunity to influence wizarding society, which I think he's doing.'
'By becoming a notorious womaniser?' asked Hermione, sceptical.
'That's just a phase,' said Lucinda. 'As long as he doesn't start mistreating women, or running around with someone who's married, no one will hold it against him.'
Ryan and Hermione helped clean up, and in the kitchen they noticed a letter for him. 'Mum, when did this arrive?'
'Yesterday,' replied Lucinda casually.
'Were you planning to mention it at some point?'
'It wasn't necessary,' she said. 'You found it on your own.'
Frowning, Ryan opened the letter and began reading. 'It's from Professor Hartigan,' he said brightly. 'My old Charms instructor,' he told Hermione. 'I wrote to him several weeks ago asking if he'd be willing to oversee my mastery, and he's said he would.'
'Ryan, that's wonderful!' exclaimed Hermione. 'But I didn't know you wanted to start already. Does this mean you're retiring from the Cannons?'
'Not at all. But I want to engage in independent study until then, and Professor Hartigan says he's willing to meet regularly to direct my research and provide accountability. He's proposing we talk on Sunday evening at Widgington, before the term starts. Would you like to meet him?'
'I'd love to,' said Hermione, 'but that's when Harry and I are meeting Davina Hampton to talk about Light magic.'
'I suppose we'll both have academic pursuits,' he said. 'Which makes sense, considering you're the one who inspired me.'
They finished helping Lucinda and Walter and then returned to Ryan's flat. Curled next to him on the sofa, she said, 'I enjoyed your mother's stories about falling in love with your father. And I love how they handled the frogs at their wedding.'
'Yes, that's one of my favourites,' said Ryan. 'It says so much about my parents. I decided years ago I wanted to have frogs at my own wedding, assuming the bride doesn't mind.'
'She'd have to be crazy to let a few frogs stop her from marrying you,' replied Hermione affectionately, and even though they dropped the subject she knew what they'd left unsaid.
When we get married, she thought with pleasure, nestling closer to the man she loved.
