'When will we see you again?' asked Emily Granger, as Hermione loaded her handbag with books and warm clothes.

'Good question. The longest Quidditch match on record was apparently three months, but I doubt this one will go that long. And who knows, maybe it's all overblown, and Harry will catch the Snitch after an hour.'

'But you'll come home occasionally, right?'

'Yes, I'll want to shower, and I'm sure I'm forgetting to pack something.'

'I somehow doubt that,' said her father. 'You're bringing a literal Bag of Holding.'

'Still, I don't like overfilling it,' she said, trying to decide between her Gryffindor scarf and one Molly Weasley gave her.

'Will you even get to see Ryan?' asked Emily.

'Yes, during breaks, when he's not sleeping.'

Daniel shook his head in amazement. 'I thought Test cricket was gruelling, but at least they leave off at night. And meanwhile, you'll sleep in a satchel?'

'Ryan says it's not bad. It's about the size of my bedroom, apparently, with an en-suite. A bit rustic, but it'll be comfortable enough, I'm sure.'

'I'd like to see that,' admitted her father. 'I never did get to see that tent of yours.'

'Do you want to watch some of the match? I can come fetch you when Walter and Lucinda go home.'

He grimaced. 'How long a Floo journey is it? I'd rather not take a gyrating tour of all England.'

'It's not bad, actually—the Chudley Cannons predate the Floo Network, so it's on a main line. Does that mean you're willing?'

'I think it does. What say you, Emily? Fancy a moonlit Quidditch date?'

'I don't know ... do we have any ginger tea?'

'Not that I'm aware of,' said Hermione, 'but you could try the anti-nausea potion Lucinda and I are experimenting with. We don't know if it works yet, but Walter drank some and didn't have an adverse reaction. Shall I have her bring extra?'

'It's worth a try, I suppose. Didn't you say those tinnitus drops worked?'

'They did! Davina suspects it's because Muggles have their own version of Light magic, minus the blatantly magical aspect. So we're keen to see what else is possible.'

When she finished packing, Hermione left for the stadium, where the mood was electric. The fans were clearly hoping for an extended match, with no apparent concern for the players' wellbeing. 'You'd think all these people wearing Harry and Ryan's jerseys would be less keen to torture them,' she complained to Annie.

'Hermione, you're forgetting that most people see them as larger than life, this year in particular,' said Ryan's former classmate. 'The Cannons have been phenomenal ever since Harry joined, so it's easy to forget they have basic physical needs, same as anyone else.'

Annie's boyfriend Rupert chuckled and said, 'I thought everyone knew by now about Harry's physical needs.'

'That bloke over there does,' said Annie, laughing. She pointed out a sign that said, 'Harry Potter-Black: All Day, All Night,' with an animated broomstick moving back and forth.

Hermione's jaw dropped. 'How is that appropriate for a public stadium?'

'It isn't. But it's nearly four o'clock, so surely it's past children's bedtimes!'

'Quick, kids, into the satchel!' joked Rupert. 'Or under the blanket, if you're a poor sod like me.'

'Do you need a place to sleep?' asked Hermione. 'Walter and Lucinda are loaning me their satchel. It's bare bones, but I'm sure we can all fit.'

They happily accepted her offer. 'Bloody brilliant!' said Rupert, with plain amazement. 'Hermione, you're Muggle-born—have you got used to it yet?'

'You mean things like satchel-shaped lodgings? No, not entirely.'

'It makes you wonder about the old woman who lived in a shoe, doesn't it? And watch—Annie will probably tell us about shoehouses, and that she can't believe we've never heard of them before.'

'I will not,' said Annie. 'And I don't like the implication I've been lying to you.'

'Lie all you want, baby,' he said with a gleam in his eye, and Hermione couldn't help smiling. Annie had fancied Ryan back in school, and in the years since she'd been unlucky in love. But she and Rupert seemed head over heels for each other.

More spectators arrived, including Ryan's parents. 'Here it is,' said Lucinda, handing her a satchel. 'It's not the Ritz, but the toilet works.'

'Lucinda!' scolded Walter. 'I can't take you anywhere!'

'And yet here we are,' she said fondly. 'About to watch our son endure one of wizardkind's most gruelling traditions.'

Hermione was puzzled by Lucinda's relaxed demeanour. 'You don't exactly seem upset. I'd have thought you'd be appalled, given your overall opinion of Quidditch.'

'No, quite the opposite. I love a good test of endurance—like the ancient Greeks used to do. My whole life I've been waiting to see something like this, only I'm too frugal to attend the World Cup. And the fact that it's Ryan is the next best thing to being up there myself.'

Hermione's shock must have been apparent, because Walter said, 'Hermione, you should know by now how unpredictable my wife is. Every time I think I've figured her out, she surprises me again. A wonderful trait in a spouse.'

'Hush, we want her to marry Ryan, and he's as steady as they come.'

'That's perfect, as far as I'm concerned,' said Hermione. 'Lucinda can surprise me instead.'

Everywhere Hermione looked, she saw familiar faces. Bill and Fleur were just a few rows away, next to Neville and Hannah. Lee Jordan was sitting with Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, and Hermione assumed George would turn up later. Luna was also nearby, drawing stares in her dryad costume, which was inexplicably covered with snow. Does she know something we don't?

The balls were launched, but people seemed more interested in socialising than watching the match, and more Omnioculars were pointed into the stands than over the pitch. Several sections over, Hermione spotted Esme and Charles Selwyn with a cluster of posh-looking friends, and she resolved to avoid them. They'd had friendly interactions—first at Lydia's salon, then at Harry's drag party—but at the stadium she was certain they'd snub her.

In another section were Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott. They were both looking through Omnioculars, and Draco seemed to be talking a lot, presumably about the match. At one point he handed his Omnioculars to Theo, who set his own pair down and looked through them. Hermione was touched—there was something sweet about Malfoy's obvious enthusiasm for Quidditch minutiae. Good lord, I'm feeling empathy for Malfoy, she thought. This is probably Harry's fault.

Over the next several hours, the spectators fell into an alternating pattern of either watching the match, or ignoring it entirely and catching up with friends. People moved freely through the stands, and Hermione enjoyed the convivial atmosphere. Even Quidditch fanatics like Professor McGonagall were willing to look away from the action.

'Hermione, how are you?' she said warmly.

'I'm well, Minerva. And you?'

'I'm thrilled to witness what's shaping up to be a match for the ages. The longest match I ever saw lasted nine hours, in 1968 between the Magpies and the Kestrels. So I'm hoping this will be far longer.'

'But what about the players? No one seems bothered about their wellbeing.'

Chuckling, Minerva said, 'I'm a schoolteacher, and I've learnt the hard way not to worry where it isn't needed. Otherwise I wouldn't have got a wink of sleep these last forty years. I'm sure Harry and Ryan will be fine.'

Hermione found this patronising, and only her deep respect for Minerva kept her from saying so. 'But it could last for weeks! And surely the risk of injury increases with player fatigue.'

'I suppose it does. But there are Healers on hand, and players nearly always make a full recovery. So really, there's no use worrying.'

Nearly always? thought Hermione with alarm, and she was grateful her mum wasn't there. 'Still, I hope the match doesn't go on too long.'

'That's up to the Snitch, and observational magic. Which, I must say, sounds fascinating. Does it relate at all to your area of study?'

'Light magic, you mean? I hadn't thought about it, since I was too busy panicking, but perhaps it does. There's certainly a lot in the Light Arts about interconnectedness. Although I've no idea how I'd research it—the treatise Malfoy found said observational magic is hard to detect at a conventional scale. The only reason the authors spotted it was because they had centuries of Quidditch data.'

'Malfoy?' exclaimed Minerva. 'Do you mean Draco Malfoy?'

'Yes, he's the one who told Harry about it. They're actually friends now.'

'Merciful Merlin—I never thought I'd see the day.' Her brows knitted together, and she said, 'Are you sure he's not being manipulated?'

'Who are you talking about, Harry or Draco?'

'Harry, of course.' Lowering her voice, she said, 'I'm still not convinced Draco Malfoy doesn't belong in Azkaban. Gregory Goyle is there, after all.'

'That's true, but Draco saved Harry's life, when he refused to identify him. Do you think Goyle would have done the same?'

'No, he was a follower. Whereas Draco lost his enthusiasm for Dark curses that final year, even though their use was encouraged.' She sighed heavily and said, 'I suppose Harry's giving him the chance to become who he might have been, had Voldemort never existed.'

'A spoilt aristocrat?'

A soft chuckle, and Minerva said, 'I was going to say "just another Malfoy." Rich, powerful, and resistant to change—but relatively harmless. If Harry can bring that about, then more power to him.'

Next, Hermione visited Bill and Fleur, who expressed more sympathy for the players than Minerva did. 'Poor Harry,' said Fleur, looking up at the circling Seekers. 'And poor Hermione, who will not have her bel ami for many days perhaps.'

'Will you see them during breaks, at least?' asked Bill.

'Yes, but not in private.'

'That is too cruel,' said Fleur with disdain. 'Ryan needs the touch of a woman after flying so much. And Harry, he will be very unhappy. Have you met his girlfriend, this Fiona?'

'I have, and she's lovely. Nothing like what the Prophet depicted.'

'You're the real mum fatale,' said Bill to his wife, twirling a lock of her hair. 'She's been having new cravings,' he told Hermione conspiratorially.

'Do not tell her about that,' protested Fleur.

'Haggis. And black pudding.'

'Chut!' hissed Fleur, looking around. 'Your mother must not know.'

'She's not even here! And we really should tell her, considering she's the one cooking it.'

Bill explained, 'I discovered I like foods like haggis and black pudding at the full moon, so Mum always sends some over. Fleur never went near it, even though the French eat all sorts of horrors, but last month she wanted to try it. And now she's hooked.'

'I am not "hooked,"' she said, with Gallic contempt. 'But it helps my liver.'

Hermione smiled, recalling the blanket French malady: une crise de foie. 'Have you persuaded Molly to send them more often?'

'Yes, by lying to her,' said Bill. 'I tell her it's for me, and that it's really hitting the spot. So she's probably afraid I'll go full werewolf on Tuesday night.'

'Will you be here at the stadium, if the game's still going?'

With a glance at Fleur, he said, 'We can't miss work, but yes, we'll come evenings. Merlin knows we won't be able to do this sort of thing once the baby is born.'

'But I will not sleep here,' Fleur declared. 'If Harry catches the Snitch in the middle of the night, so be it.'

Hermione returned to her seat, where Lucinda was still focused on the match. 'Aren't you bored yet?' she asked, knowing Lucinda usually started agitating for a clock around now. Indeed, Walter was reading a book and only occasionally looked up at the players.

'Yes, I'm bored silly—what a ludicrous sport! But if Ryan can fly back and forth repeatedly for four solid hours, the least I can do is refrain from nodding off.'

'He won't know,' said Walter, looking down at his book again.

'I will. And as the source of our son's stubborn streak, I refuse to submit.'

They continued chatting, with Lucinda never taking her eyes off the match. 'Did you talk to anyone interesting?' she asked Hermione.

'I saw Bill and Fleur Weasley, and also Professor McGonagall,' she began.

'Oh right, your in loco parentis. Did she even lay eyes on you, or did she just twiddle her thumbs whilst a Basilisk was on the loose?'

Hermione was offended on Minerva's behalf, although she couldn't exactly argue. 'You're right that there wasn't much oversight at Hogwarts, but I think it's improving. Or at least I hope it does by the time my children go there.'

Lucinda turned to face her. 'You're planning to send your children to Hogwarts?'

Belatedly realising what she'd implied, Hermione said, 'Yes, assuming that's the letter they receive.'

'You might be able to choose,' said Lucinda, watching the flyers again. 'It would be unusual, but the older schools were founded specifically as an alternative. So clearly there's precedent.'

Hermione felt a stir of discomfort. She'd listened with interest to Ryan's stories about Widgington Academy, and she had a lot of respect for the education he'd received there. But it sounded so prosaic compared to Hogwarts. No castle, no forest, no giant squid. They didn't arrive by train, or glide in small boats across a moonlit lake. They simply travelled by Floo to a well-warded campus and went home every night.

'I guess we'll wait and see,' she said vaguely, wondering if Harry or Ron had thought about it.

It was nearly eight o'clock—four hours into the match—and Ryan's parents were preparing to leave. Lucinda showed her around the satchel and gave her a flask containing the Anti-Nausea Potion they'd prepared. 'Walter said it was an improvement, and he's the most mundane Muggle that ever lived.'

'I heard that!' he called from above, his head poking through the top of the satchel.

'Yes, dear,' said Lucinda, mounting the ladder leading out.

Armed with the Bellamys' tickets, Hermione went through the public Floo to fetch her parents. 'Try this,' she said, handing them the potion and a small measuring cup. 'Twenty millilitres.'

They drank it, and upon arriving they agreed that it helped. 'I could almost get used to Floo travel,' said Emily, clearly surprised.

'That's more than I'm willing to say, but I'm less tempted to puke than usual,' said Daniel. 'So, well done!'

Hermione got them situated, then excused herself to find Ryan. 'Sorry to keep you waiting,' she told him. 'I had to fetch my parents.'

'No worries,' said Ryan between mouthfuls. 'I had to wash up, and you didn't need to see me inhale my first box of food.'

'That's your second box?' gasped Hermione, noting its size. 'Erm, how are you doing?'

'I'm knackered, but flying was brilliant. Is it weird that I'm excited to keep going?'

'Yes, but you came by it honestly,' she said, thinking of his indefatigable mum. They chatted until Tuttle ordered the players to get some sleep, then Ron accompanied her back through the stands.

'Looks like we're in the same boat, eh?' said Ron as they walked.

'So it seems. How's Janet doing?'

'Not bad, all things considered. Are you staying the night or going home?' She told him about the satchel, and he seemed relieved. 'That's good, you'll be more comfortable that way.'

Hermione smiled at the reminder of how caring he was. I suppose it's impossible to grow up with Arthur and Molly and not develop a nurturing side, she mused. 'And what about you?'

'Sleeping bag. But that's fine—this way I'll be able to watch Janet from midnight to four, and I paid for the seat upgrade, so it should be pretty comfortable.' Spectators weren't permitted to transfigure their own seats, since that could compromise the stadium structure, but for a nominal fee a staff member could add padding and make it recline. 'There's even a cupholder, like in that cinema where we saw "The Matrix."'

Marvelling at how much had changed since then, she said, 'Was that really only six months ago? It feels like another lifetime.'

'It does, doesn't it? That was the day we were allowed back into Gringotts, remember?'

Hermione grimaced. 'The day I got my hands on the Black family Grimoire, you mean?'

Chuckling, Ron said, 'That wasn't all bad. Your hair looks good, certainly, although it was fine before. And I ought to thank you for brewing that potion. I know it was horrible and evil, but it really helped my confidence.'

She still felt bad about the potion she'd brewed to test magical strength, partly because it had proved so mortifying to Harry, but mostly because of its effect on her relationship with Ron. 'I'm still sorry I didn't tell you I was brewing it. I hope Janet treats you better than I did.'

'She's all right,' said Ron, glancing back at the Cannons skybenches. 'And you seem a lot happier with Ryan. Funny how we both started dating someone new the same day.'

'You're right, we did! It's a shame Harry and Helena didn't work out—it would have been sort of poetic, all three of us.' Blushing, she said, 'Did Harry tell you about the Howler?'

'That was classic! There he is, right in the middle of the act, and you start shrieking at him about house-elves,' said Ron, laughing. 'You can't send one to him with Fiona, can you?'

'No, it would wake up Matthew. Have you met her yet?'

'Yeah, just now, while we were waiting for Harry and Janet to turn up. She seems nice, I think. And I guess they have a lot in common, with her husband and all.'

Hermione nodded, knowing what he meant. 'When you and I broke up, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to relate to someone who hadn't been through what we'd experienced,' she admitted. 'But it turned out not to be a problem, even though I'm not sure Ryan will ever really grasp what it was like. He knows what happened, of course, but I don't think he'll ever understand the intense pressure, and the sense that ...' She hesitated. 'That we were the only ones who could fix things.'

'Yeah, Janet doesn't get it either. But she knows it was real for me, and that's enough,' said Ron, with obvious affection for his girlfriend. 'Besides, you and Harry and I can always get together and mope about it, for old times' sake.'

We do so much better as friends, thought Hermione fondly. 'Er, that reminds me. I've been meaning to apologise to you about something.' She stepped out of the flow of traffic and cast a privacy charm.

'You, apologise to me? Don't you have that backwards?' joked Ron.

'No, I don't. I realised after we split up that ...' She took a deep breath. 'That I can't have been a very, er, satisfying partner.'

Ron's ears turned pink. 'Er ...' he stalled, but she rescued him.

'And it was my fault entirely. Not that I was doing it on purpose—or not doing it, rather. But I was completely cerebral back then, and barely in my body at all. It was only after we split up that it finally shifted.'

Still looking embarrassed, Ron asked, 'Did Ryan help, then?'

'No, and I don't want you to think that. It was completely unrelated, actually. The night before Harry's first match, I went to dinner with Luna, and we had this weird conversation.'

'A weird conversation with Luna?' chuckled Ron.

'I know, fancy that,' said Hermione. 'I was a complete wreck, partly because you'd broken up with me, and also because I nearly started another Goblin War that morning.' She tugged at a ringlet and said, 'They weren't keen on me showing up looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.'

'Right, Harry told me about that. But what happened with Luna?'

'I couldn't even describe it, but I know now that I crossed the threshold into Light magic. It was months before my hair started sparking, but that's when I made the mental shift. And it was like I finally connected with my own body, and developed more of a sex drive.'

'That's Light magic for you, I guess. But does that mean when we were together, you didn't even feel it?'

Seeing his worried expression, she was quick to reassure him. 'No, not at all. I felt it, and I enjoyed it. But I didn't really need it, as I'm sure you recall, and I want to apologise. That must have been terribly frustrating.'

'Kind of, yeah. But you shouldn't feel bad about it. I mean, maybe you needed to be up in your head, to get us through the war in one piece.'

'Maybe,' she said doubtfully. 'Though I don't feel any stupider now.'

'Right, but how would you know?' he countered, and she laughed. 'Anyway, I'm glad you're feeling more, I dunno, balanced. And I suppose that's good news for Ryan—although it's off the table for a bit.'

She raised her eyebrows suggestively and said, 'I have that satchel, you know. And if we finish by midnight, we'll catch Janet and Ryan's next shift. Although my parents might wonder what we're up to.'

'Are they here?'

'Yes, they're using Ryan's parents' seats for a few hours. My dad wanted to see a Quidditch match.'

'This I have to see!' exclaimed Ron, and they walked over together.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised by how well Ron and her parents got on. It was by no means the first time he'd tried sharing his Quidditch enthusiasm, but this time he succeeded, with an actual match to show them.

'I can understand why the Seekers aren't feinting this early in the match, if the Snitch isn't expected to turn up yet,' said Daniel, looking through Hermione's Omnioculars. 'But isn't Gemma Rees risking injury by tangling with the Beaters like that?'

'Nah, because the Beaters aren't even targeting her. They're more interested in disrupting the Cannons Chasers, because Puddlemere will lose the Cup if the Cannons win by too big a margin.'

This led to a discussion of Quidditch league rankings, and the inevitable comparison with cricket and football, which left Ron shaking his head. 'Football's not so bad, but it sounds like you need a N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy just to follow cricket.'

'No, Hermione has one, and she still doesn't follow it,' joked Daniel.

Hermione showed them the satchel, and Ron expressed gratitude they'd had an entire tent during the war. 'I can't even imagine the three of us and a you-know-what in something this small,' he said, indicating an imaginary locket. 'We'd have cursed each other for sure.'

'Still, it's nice to know things could have been worse,' she said dryly.

After Ron left, Daniel said, 'He's not so bad, now that there's no risk you'll marry him.'

'Daddy!' she mouthed, looking around to see if anyone had overheard.

'I was paying a compliment! And frankly, I'm pleased you're friends again. I think of the Weasleys as your surrogate wizarding family, for better or worse, and I'm glad you won't feel awkward around them.'

She stayed with her parents the rest of the evening, and various friends came by to introduce themselves. This is lovely, she thought, still unused to her two worlds overlapping. Hermione's parents even allowed her to perform Warming Charms on them, and they shocked her by trying some wizarding sweets. She brought them home at half past ten, then napped in the satchel until Ryan's shift started at midnight.

Annie and Rupert opted to stay in bed, leading Hermione to suspect they were making the most of her absence, and she paid a staff member to upgrade her seat. She didn't bother using Omnioculars, but instead lay back watching the flyers as an ensemble. It's like a dance, she mused, enjoying their synchronised movements. Only without taking a break, and with iron balls smashing through the ranks.

After dozing off several times, she retired to the satchel and slept soundly until past seven. She ate some of the food she'd packed, knowing Kreacher would bring something more substantial after eight, then went to see Ryan. He was bearing up well, unsurprisingly, and so was Harry.

But the weather turned cold and rainy, and had Lucinda not been present Hermione might have retreated to the satchel. 'Go on, Bellamy!' called Lucinda, and she'd even made a banner for him. 'It's the least I can do, really. It's my fault he has magic in the first place, otherwise he'd only be playing sensible sports.'

The temperature continued to drop, and after a dismal half hour of sleet, the fans were rewarded with fluffy clumps of snow. Umbrellas were put away, and people emerged from their satchels wearing their cosiest winter garb. 'This is lovely,' said Hermione, brushing snow off her shoulders. 'And if I know Harry, he's probably flooded with Light magic right now.'

Her own was flowing strongly, which proved interesting when Esme Selwyn approached. 'Oh, you look beautiful!' exclaimed Hermione. 'I'm sure you've never seen "Dr Zhivago," but that's what you remind me of.'

Esme, resplendent in a chic winter cloak and fur-trimmed hat, said, 'How curious! Are you enjoying the match?'

'Yes, very much. And you?'

'Of course, this is an unexpected delight. And I'm thrilled you're experiencing it—some people go their whole lives without seeing a multi-day Quidditch match.'

'Is this your first time as well?'

'No, Charles and I saw a six-day match in '98, at the World Cup. We simply had to get away that summer—England was unbearable. Istanbul was lovely, though, and we had box seats, which included a sleeping chamber with all the amenities. It's a pity British stadiums have nothing similar, since they're ideal for entertaining, but I suppose we can rough it for a few days.'

Hermione was too immersed in Light magic to reply with her usual edge; instead she asked after Charles.

'He's in raptures, of course. If he had his say, the match would last weeks. His department head already gave him the time off—Quidditch comes first, you know—and heaps of our friends are here as well. In fact, I've come to invite you to a small reception, this afternoon at four. It'll just be a few of us, due to the lack of space, but we'd love to have you.'

Lucinda, still watching the game attentively, shot Hermione a questioning glance. 'Yes, of course,' said Hermione, remembering her manners. 'May I bring anything?'

'Just yourself. Obviously we'd love to have Ryan as well, but I assume he'll be engaged.'

'Yes,' she said, finally grasping what she'd committed to. 'Will I know anyone else? Moreover, will the others know I'm coming?'

'Are you asking if I'm pulling a Lydia and deliberately shocking everyone? No, I would never blindside a guest like that. For good or ill, I lack my sister's flair for drama.'

When Esme had gone, Lucinda said, 'I needn't ask who that was. Will you be all right?'

'I don't think anyone will curse me, if that's what you're asking.'

'No, but words can be nearly as cutting. Any idea why she invited you?'

'Shock value? I know that was partly why Lydia invited Ryan and me to her salon, and she wanted to show us off as well. Although I doubt it's the latter with Esme and Charles.'

'No, it's probably the former. They might also be parading how tolerant they are, now that mending bridges is all the rage. Some of my relations did the same after the First Wizarding War.'

'Did you tell them to bugger off?'

'I'd have loved to, but Ryan was five and needed more cousins to play with. And it was good for them, I think. Not only did they see that "half Muggles" are still perfectly magical, but they also learnt that full Muggles are still human.'

'Right,' said Hermione, glancing at Esme's retreating form. 'But I might only be the exception that proves the rule. Which is flattering, I suppose, but it won't change anyone's mind.'

'Never try changing anyone's mind,' snapped Lucinda. 'It can't be done.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Forgive me, that was my bitter side talking. And of course we've seen evidence to the contrary with Lydia, who's truly exceptional.'

'She is,' said Hermione. 'But back to this afternoon, how should I interact? The main reason I was able to tolerate dinner last time was because we all got plastered.'

Lucinda's eyes lit with amusement. 'My dear Hermione, what makes you think that won't happen today? It'll already be dark at four o'clock, but I doubt they need the excuse.'

'I can't get plastered at a Quidditch match!'

'Why do you think multi-day Quidditch is a cherished wizarding tradition? It's so people can drink day after day without reproach.' Hermione just blinked, and Lucinda looked up at the players again. 'It's ironic, really. There they are, gracing us with the athletic performance of a lifetime, and the fans are down here inhaling Cauldron Cakes and mead.'

'I'm sure Esme will serve wine, not mead,' noted Hermione. 'Lydia says mead is common.'

She saw Ryan again at noon, and he was still doing well. 'I'm beyond knackered, but I can't tell you what a high it is to be up there. I feel like I've been preparing for this my whole life.'

'That's because you have been,' she said admiringly. 'I gather this hasn't deterred you from flying for England?'

'Ask me in a week, but right now it would be a dream come true.'

Harry was also in good spirits, though he clearly needed rest. Hermione told him about the invitation from Esme, which she was getting nervous about, but he reassured her. 'Yes, they're using you, but it works both ways.' He raised a privacy ward and said, 'I'm not supposed to tell you this, since it happened at Pratt's, but Charles and some of his mates are intrigued by Light magic. They're not exactly ready to sign up for lessons, but they're starting to get that it's more satisfying than the Dark Arts. Charles said he had a powerful experience with Dark magic back in school, using contempt, but he's never been able to replicate it.'

'Are you suggesting I let them see my hair sparking?'

'I'll leave that up to you. But know that Charles is as much of an aesthete as I am.'

She took another nap in the satchel that afternoon, in solidarity with the players, then washed and dried her hair. She used the charm from the Grimoire to produce ringlets but decided not to conceal her sparks. Everyone knows I'm a Light witch anyway.

At four o'clock she made her way across the stands, arriving at the Selwyn's seats. Esme was absent, but Charles was clad as stylishly as his wife was earlier, prompting Hermione to wonder what Harry's winter cloak looked like. A burnished leather satchel sat open near his feet.

'Hermione, so good of you to come,' he drawled. 'And what an occasion!'

'Are you enjoying the match?'

'Yes, tremendously. But the match is just the backdrop—you're witnessing the defining moment for our entire generation,' said Charles, with a sweeping gesture towards the stands.

What about the war? thought Hermione, although she acknowledged this was far pleasanter. 'You may be right. And the only point of contention is which team people are supporting.' Looking at his lapel, she said, 'I see you're wearing a Puddlemere rosette.'

'Yes, they've been tremendous all season and clearly deserve the Cup. No offence to Bellamy, of course.'

'None taken. But where is Esme?'

'She's down in the satchel—that's where the refreshments are. In fact, my job is to direct you inside. It's terribly comfortable, and you can still watch the match.'

Hermione had trouble picturing them taking turns with a periscope, but she took Charles's word for it and stepped into the satchel. But this was nothing like Lucinda's satchel; she descended a spiral staircase into a truly exquisite room. The floors were inlaid wood, and silk hangings covered the walls. There was no bed, but Hermione assumed it was concealed somehow, and elegant furnishings filled the space. And a large glass hung on one of the walls, displaying the match.

Esme was gabbing with a friend in the corner, at a marble-topped bar. 'Hermione, what will you have? There's mulled wine, whisky, and champagne,' she said, raising her glass.

'Champagne sounds lovely,' said Hermione, knowing it would take effect quickly but not get her drunk. Because I need liquid courage to talk with these people.

'You'll have to excuse the squalor,' said Esme, indicating the jewel-box chamber. 'We're making do without a house-elf, since there's really no room.'

'I've never seen anything like it,' said Hermione, still looking around. 'I'm using a satchel as well, but it's far more rustic.'

'Then I'm doubly glad we invited you, because you really ought to see what magic is capable of. It's not just Charms and Potions—it's an entire way of life.'

Hermione had no time to wonder what that meant, since Esme launched into introductions. 'This is Calliope Nott, formerly Calliope Yawton. And her husband is right there. Yoo-hoo! Brandon! Hermione Granger is here!'

He was seated with another wizard, and they rose to greet her. 'Your reputation precedes you, Miss Granger,' said Nott, with a shallow bow.

'Call her Hermione,' said Esme. 'We're amongst friends, after all.'

Several others arrived, and soon Charles descended. 'All present and accounted for,' he declared, removing his cloak. There were eight people in total, and everyone except Esme and Hermione was a former Slytherin. But instead of making digs at Hermione, they all seemed to want to impress her.

'What are you doing for the Solstice?' asked Calliope. 'Brandon and I are hosting a midnight revel, to celebrate our first year in the Manor, and we'd love if you and Ryan could attend.'

Hermione froze, unable to fathom why they'd want her there, but Esme rescued her. 'It's an ancient tradition, and you really need to see it. I'd love to host one myself, but we haven't the grounds for it.'

'Someday, my love,' said Charles. 'Hermione, have you ever attended a revel?'

'I've celebrated the Solstice with an old wizarding family,' she said, thinking of the Weasleys, 'but I don't know if it's the same as what you're referring to.'

'They'd need a woodland,' said Esme. 'Deep and thick, with a clearing inside. My grandfather has one, and so do the Selwyns. And now Calliope and Brandon do too.'

'We walk out in a single file, bundled in furs,' said Calliope. 'We're supposed to be silent, but I've never seen that happen, since it's nearly midnight and we're all in our cups. But by the time we reach the clearing, we really are silent—I do hope we'll have snow, since it's even lovelier that way. And the clearing itself is lit by twelve small fires, all in a ring, and we come to the centre.'

She took a deep breath, and colour crept into her cheeks. 'Everyone drinks a potion, which compels us to dance. But it's not frenzied, like a bacchanal—it's a stately, interwoven dance, and thanks to the potion there are no false steps. And we each hold a lighted wand, and the idea is that the gods themselves are watching from above.'

'So it's an offering?' asked Hermione, mesmerised.

'Yes. It's a gift of light, in thanks for our magic. The dance lasts maybe a quarter-hour, and then we light a fire in the centre, drawing flames from the twelve others, and share our wishes for the new year.'

The mood had shifted as Calliope spoke, and no one was watching the match anymore. 'It's extraordinary,' murmured Charles, taking a sip of whisky. 'You must see it.'

Hermione nodded, unable to speak, and from the corner of her eye she saw her hair begin to spark.

'What's this?' cried Esme, drawing back. 'Is that your Light magic? I assumed you'd glow.'

The fear in her voice was unmistakable, but Hermione reassured her. 'Don't worry—you're perfectly safe. We'd have to be in battle against each other for something weird to happen.'

Charles and Brandon were already at ease, and the others relaxed as well. 'It's so pretty,' said Calliope, tentatively reaching for a ringlet. 'May I?'

'Yes, of course,' said Hermione.

'Oh, I can feel it!' she exclaimed. 'It's a little tingly. Are you doing it on purpose, or does it just happen?'

'It just happens. I can't control my Light magic nearly as well as Harry can, although I'm improving.'

They asked whether she'd ever needed to hide it, and she told them about the concealing charm, and she even mentioned the charm she used to tame her hair. The witches insisted on seeing it, even though their hair was straight, and Hermione revealed her natural mess.

'The sparks are even brighter!' gasped Esme. 'Oh, promise me you'll wear it like this to the revel.'

'Quite so,' said Charles, his breath almost ragged. 'Great Salazar, what an offering to the gods of old!'

Hermione asked about other traditions, and everyone clamoured to tell her about them. She was moved by the beauty of the rituals they described, drawing satisfaction from the others. 'It's in your blood, after all,' said Esme. 'May I tell them?'

For a moment Hermione had no idea what she was talking about, until she realised Esme was referring to her descent from an old-family Squib. Hermione nodded, and Esme told the others what she'd revealed at Lydia's salon.

'But she won't say which family, and that's the real question,' said Esme, with a wheedling air that reminded Hermione of Lydia.

'Can't you give us a hint?' asked Calliope. 'Which Hogwarts house, for example? It's a Hogwarts family, right?'

'It is, but that's all I'll say.'

'Then it has to Slytherin,' said Nott. 'Otherwise she'd have reconciled with them already.'

Hermione said nothing, which she knew was the same as confirming it. The others started guessing, and she practised Occlumency to keep her expression neutral. But no one suggested the Goyles, probably thinking it was too great an insult.

'That's fine, keep your secrets,' said Calliope sweetly. 'And besides, you're practically a new house. I'm sure your descendants will be just as proud to have you as an ancestor as they'd be of whoever you're concealing.'

'And Ryan,' said Esme. 'The two of you could very well establish an upper-tier house. New, of course, but still prominent. And within a few generations, anyone would be willing to marry into it.

'Esme!' cried Calliope, but Esme simply tilted her champagne flute at her.

'I meant it as a compliment. And everyone was thinking it!'

All eyes turned to Hermione, whom the alcohol had made more mellow than giddy. 'I'd rather hear the truth than lies,' she said simply.

'Brilliant,' said Esme. Raising her glass, she said, 'I hereby predict that Hermione Granger and Ryan Bellamy will be the toast of wizarding society this winter. Assuming this match ever ends.'

Hermione checked her wristwatch and realised nearly two hours had passed. 'Oh dear, I really should go,' she said. 'Ryan's mum and cousins are still here, and I promised I'd be back for dinner.'

'Yes, naturally,' said Esme. 'You should ask them about wizarding traditions as well, the cousins in particular. These are his magical cousins, right? Silly Esme—of course they are.'

Sensing that more blunders were imminent, Hermione bade everyone goodbye, with a promise to tell Ryan about the revel. She deliberately hinted that his family might have their own Solstice tradition, in which case they wouldn't be able to attend, but thanked Calliope for inviting them.

The cold air pricked her cheeks when she emerged from the satchel, although it was no longer snowing. Making her way across the stands, she realised she was slightly tipsy from the two glasses of champagne, which meant it felt perfectly natural when she ran into Luna Lovegood.

'Hermione, there you are,' said Luna in a dreamy voice. She was no longer dressed as a tree, but her cloak and the brim of her cap were trimmed with acorns.

'Oh? Were you looking for me?'

'No,' she said simply. 'But I'm glad to see you. This is awfully fun, don't you think?'

'It is fun—more than I expected. Is Darren doing all right?'

Luna peered skywards. 'Oh yes. He's very physical, and his whole aura brightens when he's permitted to live that way. I'm sure he could keep playing for weeks.'

'I hope it doesn't come to that. Ryan's also having a good time, but we'd miss each other terribly if we were apart for so long.'

'Yes, I'd miss Darren as well. But I'll miss him regardless.' Hermione wanted to ask what she meant, but Luna abruptly changed the topic. 'Your hair is free again,' she observed.

Hermione put a hand to her hair and realised she'd forgotten to re-charm it. 'Oh my word, what a mess,' she said, pulling out her wand, but Luna stopped her.

'Not tonight. There's powerful collective magic here in the stadium—old magic—and you shouldn't unnecessarily constrict yourself.'

'Er, all right,' said Hermione, resolving to at least wear a woollen hat. 'Actually, speaking of old magic, today I learnt about all sorts of pagan traditions I never realised were still in practice. Are you familiar with the Solstice Revel? The Weasleys light candles and make wishes for the new year, but I'd never heard about the potion or the dance.'

'Yes, that's a very old tradition,' said Luna. 'It's a trifle Dark, since the potion requires an animal sacrifice. But Daddy says it's no worse than eating meat, and I'm inclined to agree.'

'Have you done it, then?'

'No, we have our own tradition. The Solstice is the perfect night for tracking nocturnal creatures, so each year we choose a different one and set forth. Last year we found a glade full of Turduckens and watched them for hours, frolicking in the starlight. Unfortunately it was too dark for photographs, but this year the Solstice is near the full moon so we're trying again, since I'd like to submit it to a journal.'

Hermione was momentarily dumbstruck. 'Luna, there's no such thing as a Turducken—at least not in the wild. It's a duck inside a chicken inside a turkey, and it's all done in the kitchen.'

'No, I saw them myself. Their feathers are majestic—I'm sure you could make a wand from them.'

When Hermione returned to her seat, Lucinda asked if she'd seen Ryan's latest score. 'Er, no,' she admitted. 'There was a charmed mirror in the satchel—which looked hilariously like a television, I might add—but I wasn't really watching.'

'It was stupendous,' said Lucinda. 'He was flying at top speed towards the rightmost hoop and caught Renée's pass without even slowing down. Then he veered full left—no turning radius at all—and flung the Quaffle through the middle hoop before Wood even realised what was happening. And Wood's no slouch, as I'm sure you know. But here, see for yourself.'

Hermione took Lucinda's Omnioculars and watched the recording. 'Amazing. He's been flying on and off for nearly sixteen hours, and he's only getting better.'

'It's a kind of genius,' said Lucinda, raising the Omnioculars to her eyes again. 'Walter and I are both athletic, but Ryan is truly special. I hope he knows how proud I am of him.'

'Er, I think he does. I know he appreciates how you come to all his matches, even though Quidditch isn't your thing.'

Lucinda turned to face her. 'Tell him,' she said earnestly. 'Really. I know I'm rather a skinflint when it comes to praising my own son, but please let him know how ... awestruck I am. And it's not just physical prowess—it's hard work and intellect and focus. He's really a remarkable young man.'

Hermione felt a little choked up on Ryan's behalf. The truth was he sometimes doubted his parents' opinion of him. For example, she knew he felt sheepish about his lack of formal education, particularly compared to his father, and he sometimes worried his Quidditch career was a waste of time. 'I'll tell him,' she said tenderly. 'Tonight at eight, when his shift ends.'

Ryan was indeed touched to hear it. 'Really? She said that?'

'She did. And I think she feels bad about not saying it more often.'

For a moment he looked down at his food, then shook his head. 'Sorry, I must be overwrought from all the flying. Thanks for telling me, though.'

Harry was deep in conversation with Fiona, and he too looked emotional. Clearly it's all the flying, thought Hermione, and she wondered if all the players were affected—and whether it would get worse as the match progressed. They'll be a blubbering mess when this is over, she thought.

On the way back to her seat, she saw another familiar face. 'Helena!' she exclaimed. 'How are you?'

'Hermione!' said Harry's former girlfriend, sitting up. She was seated next to a young man, and their seats had been modified into a sort of reclining loveseat. 'I'm doing well. And you?'

She introduced her companion, a wizard named Brian, and it was clear from their body language they were a couple. 'I'm a Puddlemere fan,' he explained, 'and I bought the tickets before the season even started. We considered selling them and spending the proceeds on a trip to Paris, but my mum insisted we attend. She said we'd regret missing the match, particularly since Helena comes pre-equipped,' he said, indicating a satchel.

'And how do you feel about your decision now?' asked Hermione.

The pair looked at each other before replying, and Helena smiled softly. 'His mum was right—this is lovely. And we've seen heaps of friends, which has been a treat.' She looked around for a spot for Hermione to sit, but all the seats were taken. 'I wish there were somewhere to talk privately, though.'

'Ahem, satchel,' said Brian. 'Go on—I know what you want to talk about.'

Helena kissed him on the cheek. 'You're a dear. Hermione, are you willing? I've missed you.'

'I've missed you too,' she said sincerely. She'd formed a high opinion of Helena during their brief acquaintance, and under different circumstances they might have stayed friends. Helena led her into the satchel, which was less sumptuous than the Selwyns' but considerably nicer than Lucinda's.

'This is out of my price range,' explained Helena, 'but nearly everything else sold out, and I persuaded my grandfather to let me borrow it. Tea?' she asked, walking straight to the kettle.

'Yes, please.' Hermione removed her cloak and sat on the sofa while Helena prepared the tea.

'I'm sorry I didn't get to see you at Harry's drag party last month,' she said, carrying two mugs and sitting down. 'I wanted to thank you and Ryan again for your kindness after Harry's birthday. In hindsight, Rita Skeeter's article was wasn't as harmful as we feared, but at the time it felt catastrophic.'

'It was, in a way. Harry was heartbroken, after all.'

'Perhaps, but he clearly moved on. Didn't he shag a Muggle the following weekend?' said Helena, not unkindly.

'He did, which was frankly a relief,' said Hermione, recalling the horrible afternoon Harry was provoked into revealing he'd been abused. 'Ryan and I accompanied him to his aunt and uncle's house, to set up protections, and he wouldn't even talk to me about it. So I was relieved to find out later he spent the night with a Muggle, instead of just brooding alone.'

'So you never knew he'd been abused until then?'

Hermione paused, with a glance into her mug. 'No, and I may never forgive myself. I had all the clues, but I never put them together.'

'No one did, by the sound of it—except Dumbledore, who covered it up,' she scowled. 'But I can understand Harry wanting to keep things private, since I'm the same way. Although I'm not hiding anything like that, thank Merlin.'

'What was it like for you, dating him? I know breaking up was your decision, but you were obviously fond of him.'

'I was more than fond of him,' said Helena. 'I was halfway to being head over heels.'

'Did he know that?'

Helena shook her head. 'No, but there was loads he didn't know about me. It was always meant to be a fling, so I decided to treat it like a holiday and leave reality at home. Because what could be more of a fairy tale than a mad love affair with Harry Potter?' She chuckled and added, 'Well, not exactly a fairy tale—the heroine doesn't usually jump into bed with Prince Charming the first night. But you get the idea.'

'Then what was different?' asked Hermione. 'Ryan and I jumped into bed nearly as fast, but it always felt like a real relationship.'

'I guess you could say I slipped into a persona.' Helena took a sip of tea, then continued. 'I'm a bit thorny in real life—moods, family drama, that sort of thing. But with Harry I could tuck those on a shelf and enjoy the whirlwind. For a fortnight I was a sort of prop in his life, and it was a nice break. But it couldn't have lasted.'

'Perhaps not,' said Hermione uncertainly. 'Although you didn't really give him the chance.'

'No, I didn't. And perhaps that was unfair of me, but I think he's better off. I mean really, imagine if he and I had paired off so early in his new life.'

Hermione paused to consider it. 'He'd be far less notorious,' she mused. 'No Sorceress, no Lydia Travers, no C-squareds.'

'And that's the best-case scenario,' said Helena.

'What do you mean? Are you saying he'd have cheated on you?'

'Not necessarily. I know how loyal he was to Ginny, and it's possible he'd have been the same with me. But it was dead obvious he was going to be a major wizarding sex symbol, for lack of a better term, and I don't know how I'd have handled it. I'd already heard witches openly fantasising about him—and scheming to get their hands on him. I'm not normally the jealous type, but he might have brought it out in me.'

Sighing, Hermione said, 'Yes, I can imagine. I sometimes overhear that sort of thing about Ryan, but he's twenty-three and a good deal more settled than Harry is. Not to mention he's far less public, in spite of his career.'

'That's another thing,' said Helena. 'I could tell Harry was starting to enjoy public attention. Which is fine—he deserves it, after everything he's been through. But I personally wasn't prepared for that kind of scrutiny, particularly since we weren't likely to last more than, say, six months.'

Hermione recalled what Helena had said at Harry's birthday party: 'At best I'd be his girlfriend for six months or so, and then I wouldn't be any longer, but it would dog me for the rest of my life. I could discover twelve more uses for dragons' blood, but I'd still be known as that witch who dated Harry Potter.'

'As much as I'd have liked for you and Harry to keep dating, you definitely weren't a good fit in that regard,' said Hermione. 'I don't think he'll be this public forever, but our Light Arts teacher thinks it's a necessary part of his journey right now—to be famous on his own terms.'

Helena nodded. 'That makes perfect sense. And again, I might have risked it if we were both older, and more likely to stay together. But it wasn't the right time for either of us.' With a wistful smile, she said, 'But all's well that ends well. Brian and I seem to be a good fit, and I trust Harry and his girlfriend are happy?'

'They are. I know the Prophet made Fiona out to be some kind of seductress, but that's not true at all.' With a sudden recollection, she said, 'Actually, Harry met her that night at his birthday party. She was the "fit bird" he was going to owl after you dumped him.'

'Oh, her!' exclaimed Helena, laughing. 'What took him so long?'

Hermione described Owen's concerns and how Harry's sincerity eventually won him over. 'And I'm glad they waited,' she said, 'since it gave him time to grow up a bit.'

An appraising look from Helena. 'How do you mean, exactly?'

'Well, you know Harry. He was forced to grow up too fast, which means now he's experiencing something of a delayed adolescence.'

'Actually, that's not how I'd describe him,' said Helena. 'I agree there's a little boy in the mix—which definitely brought out my maternal side. But otherwise he's more mature than most wizards our age.' She paused, taking another sip of tea. 'You two were in the same year, right?'

'Yes, but I'm nearly eleven months older.'

'Interesting. And what about Ron Weasley?'

'Right in the middle, but even worse than Harry.' Realising what she'd said, Hermione blushed. 'Oh dear, that was rather harsh.'

'Yeah, a bit,' said Helena. 'But I suppose the age difference would have felt more pronounced back in school.'

'It probably was. But I should really stop thinking of them that way. That's one of the main reasons Ron broke up with me, and it's definitely not fair to Harry.'

'No, but I suspect old habits die hard. And clearly Fiona doesn't hold his age against him.'

'Certainly not,' said Hermione, still embarrassed. Her tea had reached the perfect temperature, so she took several extended sips, then asked about Brian. 'How did you and he meet? Have you been dating long?'

'Since late September, and we met at the shop. Which was more unusual than you might imagine, since I was still mostly working in back, to avoid gawkers.' With a wry expression, she said, 'I was the original "threesome witch," after all.'

'Oh no! Did anyone give you a hard time?'

'Not with my brothers around. But eventually I had to emerge from hiding, and by then I was a mere footnote in Harry's annals of romance. And Brian, bless him, didn't know who I was. One of his mates had to tell him.'

'Had you been dating long?'

'No, this was before he even asked me out. Luckily it didn't scare him off, and here we are.'

As their conversation went on, Hermione kept noticing details about the room, and how cleverly the satchel had been charmed. 'Did you make this?' she asked, indicating the space.

Helena shook her head. 'No, my grandfather did, although I assisted here and there.'

Hermione asked for details, and it soon became clear Helena had done more than just assist. 'I am truly impressed,' said Hermione. 'I've performed modest space-enhancing charms, like with my handbag and enlarging my parents' wardrobe. But nothing this elaborate.'

'There's definitely an art to it,' said Helena. 'You can't just pile charms on top of each other, or they'll collapse. And there's no chart you can consult—it's all accumulated knowledge, passed down through generations.'

'Like in your family?'

'Exactly. But I'm hoping to codify it—that's the focus of my Charms mastery.'

'But expansion charms have existed for centuries,' said Hermione, fascinated. 'Has no one really investigated the underlying principles?'

'They've tried, but until recently the Arithmancy has never worked out.'

'Until recently? Has something changed?'

Helena's mouth curled into a smile. 'About ten years ago, a Swiss Arithmancer named Nina Ziffermacher devised a new model for understanding layered charms, and it just might fit the bill. Which means that with a lot of experimentation—and number-crunching—I may be able to crack it.'

After a moment of awed silence, Hermione said, 'Forgive me, but I'm terribly envious right now. I have a N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy, and I've never even heard of Nina Ziffermacher. Did you learn about her in school?'

'No, and I don't even know if her work has been translated into English. My grandparents are Austrian, and they subscribe to several German research journals, which is how they learnt about it.'

'And you speak German?'

'Not fluently, but enough to understand the research.'

Another silence, and Hermione said, 'Did Harry have any idea how brilliant you are?'

'I could ask you the same thing,' said Helena with a soft chuckle. 'Actually, until we started dating I had no idea how witty he was—was that your influence?'

'Not the witty banter, surely! Probably the Weasleys.'

Brian eventually poked his head into the satchel and asked, 'May I come through? Need to spend a penny.'

'Yes, of course,' said Hermione, standing up. 'And I should probably get some sleep before midnight, when Ryan and Harry start flying again.'

The two witches hugged, with an agreement to get together after the match. Hermione bundled herself into her cloak and hat, and she emerged from the satchel into the wintry stadium. Snow blanketed the pitch, with small drifts at the sides and the occasional divot, and she was struck by how lovely it was.

She was also filled with an unfamiliar joy, which was initially hard to identify. But walking back to her seat, Hermione realised what it was: she'd made a friend. A female friend, she noted with pride. Not that she didn't already have female friends—she had Ginny, Luna, and several witches she'd met through Ryan—but none she'd made completely on her own. Admittedly she'd met Helena through Harry, but she still felt proud of her achievement.

Back at her seat, she greeted Annie and Rupert before descending into the satchel for a nap. She hoped to watch as much of the midnight-to-four shift as possible, and ideally not fall asleep. But she still felt very dreamy when her alarm went off, and her relaxed state endured as she watched the match.

The fans cheered when the players scored or did a particularly impressive manoeuvre, but otherwise the stands were relatively quiet, since many of the spectators were asleep. Hermione looked around with her Omnioculars to see who else was awake, and she spotted Draco Malfoy still watching, from his reclining seat. Not for lack of a satchel, she thought with amusement, knowing Malfoy always had the best of everything.

She laughed out loud when she saw Minerva, sitting upright and paying close attention. This is her last chance before returning to Hogwarts for the week, Hermione supposed. Assuming she doesn't ring in sick.

The score remained close, with neither team falling behind by more than four goals. Hermione was amazed by Ryan's unstoppable energy, and Harry kept flying as if it were two in the afternoon, rather than two in the morning. By contrast, she was pleasantly sleepy.

'Excuse me,' came a voice from behind. 'Miss Granger?'

She turned around and saw a witch and wizard roughly her own age, or a few years older. 'Yes?'

'Your hair is sparking!' said the witch, her eyes wide. 'Is that Light magic?'

Hermione's hair was still bushy and mostly covered by her hat, but she pulled a lock where she could see it. 'Yes, it is. Here, you can see it better like this,' she said, removing her hat.

The witch gasped, and she reached for her partner's hand. 'Oh my god, it's so beautiful. Thank you for showing us.'

There were murmurs of admiration from the other fans nearby, and Hermione deliberately kept her hat off, using a Warming Charm instead. She was still drowsy and occasionally rested her eyes, but a burst of applause got her attention.

'Look what you've done,' said the witch behind her. 'Now he's glowing too.'

Hermione looked up and saw Harry flying in close formation with the other Seeker. It obviously wasn't a chase, since they were practically spiralling one another, and when she closed her eyes she saw a bright trail like a helix.

'Merlin, I'm glad he survived!' said a wizard nearby. 'Or else we'd never have seen this.'

The two Seekers continued their aerial dance, to ongoing applause, and Hermione recalled how Calliope Nott had described the Solstice. 'A gift of light, in thanks for our magic,' she had said, and Hermione could think of nothing more appropriate.