Author's note:

Thanks for your understanding about the slower publication schedule. In the meantime, I recommend checking out the stunningly original "Harry Potter and the Guise of Family" by berkeleyjake. It's still a work in progress, but it's updated weekly.

At first glance, Hermione didn't realise the front page of Monday's Daily Prophet referred to Harry. There was a large photo of an attractive witch in evening dress, with the headline, 'MUM FATALE,' and Hermione assumed she was a socialite. But she realised her error when she read the sub-headline—'Sultry Widow is Potter's Latest Love'—and an inset photograph showed the two snogging in public somewhere.

I thought Fiona wanted to keep things private, thought Hermione with a chuckle. If she hadn't known better, the headline and photo would have led her to believe Fiona was a serial seductress rather than a grief-stricken widow, and the article did little to dispel that impression. It began:

Fiona Dunning, 26, is a surprising choice of girlfriend for 19-year-old Harry Potter-Black. But wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor clearly admires the glamorous widow, judging from their passionate reunion last night at the London Portkey terminal.

Potter-Black first mentioned Mrs Dunning on Weasley's Wizard Wireless nearly a fortnight ago. Without revealing her identity, he said, 'I've known her a while, and I fancied her from the start. But we had several reasons for waiting until now.' He added, 'We decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. Life's too short, you know.' This led to rampant speculation amongst bookmakers about her identity, with suspects ranging from Chudley Cannons Reserve Seeker Gemma Rees to Potter-Black's comely cousin, Lisa Black.

But no one offered odds on the ravishing widow, who made a splash at the Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund gala last week presenting auction items, including Potter-Black's record-shattering eyeglasses. The two gave no sign of being in a relationship at the gala, perhaps to avoid discouraging the witches bidding for a date with the famously randy young Seeker. But their ardent reunion last night suggests that the ravishing Mrs Dunning has nothing to fear from her deep-pocketed rivals.

The real rivalry may, in fact, be over Mrs Dunning herself, since she has a five-year-old son who mightn't fancy sharing his mum. Furthermore, Potter-Black is presumably used to being the centre of attention and is unlikely to enjoy jockeying for position. We therefore advise Mrs Dunning to tuck her wee one into bed a little earlier from now on, to keep her energetic new boyfriend from getting antsy.

Potter-Black may also resent the living reminder of Fiona's late husband, Robert Dunning. An Unspeakable who died during the war, Mr Dunning belonged to the prosperous Dunning clan, best known for the eponymous restaurant. It is unknown who else Mrs Dunning has dated since her husband's demise, but her ability to ensnare at least two prominent wizards is a testament to her feminine wiles. And with the social season in full swing, she's bound to meet the cream of society on the arm of Britain's best-dressed wizard. Which means that even if the notoriously fickle Seeker moves on to someone new, Mrs Dunning will be well placed to find her next quarry.

Hermione stared at the newspaper in shock. '"Her next quarry?"' she blurted aloud. The article then encouraged Fiona to 'embrace her age' with a sophisticated wardrobe, and for Harry to lend her jewellery from the Black family vault. 'Other than Sophie Tavernier, none of Potter-Black's girlfriends have been old enough to "vamp it up," but the duskily beautiful Mrs Dunning seems born to the role.'

'Why don't they just call her a "Black widow" and be done with it?' said Hermione, scowling.

Her mother entered the kitchen and asked, 'What is it now, dear?'

'It's the Daily Prophet, as always. Harry's new girlfriend Fiona is on the cover, and they're giving her the full treatment.'

Hermione showed her the front page, and Emily chuckled. '"Mum fatale"—nice one. And you can always count on English tabloids to drum up a scandal, even where none exists.'

'The article implies Harry resents Fiona's five-year-old son! And they tell Fiona to deck herself in the Black family jewels and line up another rich lover for when Harry leaves her!'

Studying the photo, Emily said, 'They're right—she could pull it off. And if she's a working mum, I'm sure she'd enjoy a bit of glamour every now and again.'

'I just hope she doesn't regret going public,' said Hermione. 'Or, worse yet, blame Harry.'

Her mother was still reading the article. 'She had to have known what she was getting into,' said Emily, not looking up. 'And at least she'll have a ... famously randy young Seeker? Did I miss something?'

Hermione felt herself blush, realising her mother seldom read the Prophet, and that she didn't know about the Sorceress article. 'Er, Harry's earned kind of a reputation,' she said haltingly.

'For more than just having a new girlfriend every fortnight? And for dressing well?'

Hermione began to explain, and her embarrassment grew when her father walked in. Without providing details, she told them about Sorceress, his night with the two C-squareds, and the WORF auction.

Daniel let out an approving chuckle. 'Well done, Harry! Didn't I once say I'd be disappointed if he didn't start acting like a sailor on shore leave?'

'Daddy!'

'Mind you, it's a good thing he never came sniffing round you, or I'd have dug out my hunting rifle. Ron was bad enough.'

'Does that mean you don't mind Ryan?' she asked roguishly.

Daniel sighed. 'I keep thinking it'll get easier when you're older, even though you're twenty already. But yes, Ryan's all right.'

'Hallelujah!' cried Emily. 'Apparently those subliminal tapes I've been playing at night are working.'

'Dad, you really can't complain about Ryan after his mum cured your shoulder.'

'Of course I can. But Lucinda's a treasure, and I selfishly want to keep her around. So if you end up breaking it off with Ryan, don't burn any bridges.'

'I have no intention of breaking things off. Not least because Lucinda and I are working on Potions together this morning, and we may even collaborate long-term.'

Hermione had begun dividing her time between the Ministry and her Light Arts studies. Minerva had given her access to the Hogwarts library, which Madam Pince grudgingly allowed, but she'd turned up very little on Light magic. Meanwhile, Tom Riddle found instructions for making a Horcrux, she thought bitterly, and she suspected Phineas Nigellus had purged the offending texts.

She hadn't found much at the Ministry either, even after getting her hands on the books hidden in the Department of Mysteries. But she took copious notes, laying a foundation for what she hoped would be an important research project. She was reluctant to admit it, but she dreamed of innovating within the field of Light magic. No one but Ryan knew how ambitious she was, and naturally he supported her.

'But it's absurd to think I could come up with something new in a centuries-old discipline,' she'd told him that weekend.

'No, it isn't. Leaving out the fact that you're brilliant and perfectly capable of innovating, you'll be standing on the shoulders of giants. We all are, and that's why any of us can hope to make magical discoveries.'

Sulking, she said, 'But if I'm standing on the shoulders of giants, it won't be original.'

He laughed. 'And you want to invent Granger's Law, don't you?'

'I do. But you're saying I'll never do better than ... Granger's Corollary to someone else's law.'

'Where on earth did you get that? Didn't I just say you were perfectly capable of innovating?'

'You did,' she admitted. 'And from what I can tell, Light magic doesn't have any laws. It's a shockingly woolly discipline—if I hadn't seen and experienced it myself, I might think it was a myth.'

'Then that's an opportunity,' said Ryan. 'Maybe you'll be the one to nail it all down, and you'll write the seminal work that everyone uses.'

'I think you have too much faith in me. I'm not infallible.'

'So you claim, but you've yet to convince me. And yes, I know there's a paradox hiding in there, but I'm choosing to ignore it.'

Hermione occasionally worried about Ryan's blind adoration. I'll become as egotistical as Harry, she once caught herself thinking, and she immediately scolded herself. Harry's not that bad, all things considered. Though to be scientific, I should probably compare him to other star athletes who've slain a Basilisk, defeated a Dark Lord, and been paid to model underwear.

She was equally impressed Ryan wasn't more arrogant, despite being handsome, athletic, and clever. He shared those traits with Errol Reddington, the boy who'd bullied her during primary school, but they were nothing alike in character. She could no longer see Errol when she looked at her present-day boyfriend, yet she was occasionally jarred by the old photos on display at his parents' house. Not the wizarding photos—Ryan's warm expression distinguished him from his evil twin—but the Muggle school pictures in which Ryan stood in the back row with the tallest children, looking remarkably self-possessed.

'That photo is a lie,' said Lucinda, pointing out a picture of a very young Ryan with Father Christmas.

'Because there's no Father Christmas?' said Hermione uncertainly.

'No, because it's completely staged. Walter's parents wanted it for their annual letter, but we didn't dare bring Ryan to a department store at that age. Can you imagine bringing a four-year-old who couldn't control his magic to a Christmas Grotto?'

'Oh dear. Don't tell me you learnt that the hard way.'

Lucinda sighed. 'We did. Not at a department store, but at Christmas the previous year, with Walter's family. We'd tried to prepare him by decorating our own house, but we hadn't anticipated all the presents under the tree—cousins, you know. At three he was old enough to know what a shiny wrapped box meant, and they all flew in his direction. I had to Obliviate the whole family and tell them Ryan was sick so we could go home.'

'I can't believe he was that greedy!' exclaimed Hermione.

'You mustn't hold it against him—he was only three. And I was stingy where presents were concerned, since I was determined not to spoil him.'

'You're right, I can't fault a three-year old for wanting presents. Does that mean the picture was staged?' she asked, indicating Father Christmas.

'Yes, that's Walter. I gave him an Ageing Potion, tweaked his features so he wouldn't resemble his own grandfather, and whipped up a red suit. I was tempted to withhold the antidote and tell him the potion would take an entire day to wear off, but I was in my twenties and didn't fancy sleeping with an old man.'

Hermione took a closer look at the photo and saw traces of Walter. 'Did you ever tell Ryan?'

'No, and maybe you shouldn't either. I don't think he needs another story about how hard his accidental magic was on us.'

They went to the kitchen, which was set up for brewing, and Hermione started chopping ingredients. 'How old was he when it began?'

'Six weeks. We were prepared to wait years to find out if he was magical, but he quickly removed all doubt.'

'What did he do?' asked Hermione, fearing the worst.

'Nothing major—he just Summoned his favourite blanket from the washing pile. And I didn't need to Obliviate anyone, so we were free to celebrate.' Sighing, Lucinda said, 'It's probably fortunate we didn't know what was coming.'

'Was his accidental magic frequent from the start?'

'Yes. Which meant I couldn't let any of Walter's family look after him, even though they offered. His mother was terribly hurt—she thought I didn't trust her. Walter had to convince her it wasn't personal, and that I was just nervous and overprotective. Which was a shame, because I'd have loved some time off.'

'Didn't your own family help?'

'They did, although I was still furious with them. They put a real damper on my pregnancy, never sharing in my excitement. More than once I came home crying after visiting them—you'd think I was carrying a baby with three heads, from the way they were acting. I almost didn't want to tell them about his accidental magic, but Walter made me do it.'

'How did they take it?' asked Hermione.

'They were overjoyed, of course, which hurt me to the core. Here I'd had a baby, which they saw as unfortunate, or even tragic. But then he makes a blanket fly, and they were finally as happy as Walter and I were. Meanwhile, my in-laws were thrilled from the start.'

Seeing how upset Lucinda was, Hermione paused before asking the next question. 'Why didn't you just tell them about magic? Surely they could have kept a secret.'

'Believe me, I was tempted. But Walter was already considered a secrecy risk, and for all we knew the Ministry was tracking him without our knowledge. I'd also heard rumours they punished couples like us more severely for secrecy violations, to discourage intermarriage.' She looked up from the roots she was chopping and said, 'Don't forget there was a war on back then. If we'd been caught, our names would have been in the Prophet. I just couldn't risk it.'

Hermione couldn't argue, considering what ultimately happened to Walter's parents. 'How old was Ryan before his accidental magic settled down?'

'Seven,' said Lucinda heavily. 'Seven gruelling years. The poor kid was stuck at home with me when he'd have vastly preferred school. Every day we spent hours outside, since that was a good outlet for him, but he didn't even have siblings for company. He had magical cousins, at least, so he spent time with them. And I did my utmost to become the fun aunt to our non-magical nieces and nephews, since I always had to be around, in case of an accident.'

'You make it sound like he was a bedwetter!'

'I know, and it may have had a similar effect on his psyche. By the time he was five, he knew it was a real problem, but he couldn't prevent it. He felt awful whenever it happened, and after I cleaned up the mess with Memory Charms, Walter or I had to console him.'

Hermione felt terribly sad, imagining a tearful young Ryan telling his parents he'd had another accident. 'I wonder if that's what shaped his character.'

'I'm certain it did,' said Lucinda. 'But what do you mean in particular?'

'His kindness. You remember my memory of those bullies, right?' she asked, referring to the incident Lucinda had seen while teaching her Occlumency.

'I do, with the boy who looked so much like Ryan. I wish I could forget it. And yes, I see where you're going. I don't know whether Ryan was ever at risk of being a bully, since he's always been good-natured. But I'm sure his accidental magic made him more aware of his fallibility than he might have been otherwise.'

'I wonder how different he'd be if you'd severed ties with Walter's family. Didn't you say the Ministry suggested it?'

'They did, but I don't think Ryan would be the better for it.'

Hermione tried to imagine that version of Ryan. 'He'd have been even more impressive,' she mused. 'Clever, athletic, good-looking, and consistently magical.'

'Sounds like a cocky bastard,' said Lucinda. 'He mightn't have been a bully, but I don't think he'd have looked out for weaker kids.'

'Since he understood how they felt,' said Hermione. 'It's funny how our trials shape us, and even improve us. I shudder to think what Harry would be like if he hadn't been kept down for so many years. Not that I approve of how his aunt and uncle treated him, but imagine if he'd been spoilt his whole life? His father was spoilt, after all.'

Lucinda shook her head and said, 'Now we're getting into nature versus nurture, which is a thorny business. Although he had that bloody Horcrux, and I hate to imagine a spoilt child toting around a chunk of Voldemort's soul.'

'It affected his Muggle relations,' said Hermione without thinking. 'Oh blast, I'm probably betraying a confidence. Please, don't tell anyone.'

'Of course not. But are you saying that's why they mistreated him?'

Hermione told Lucinda what they'd learnt a few months earlier, that the Horcrux made Harry's eyes look uncanny to Muggles, and that the effect was particularly strong with Muggles who lacked compassion. 'His aunt and uncle wouldn't have been proper guardians regardless, but the Horcrux made it worse.'

'Poor Harry,' said Lucinda. 'How did he take the discovery?'

'It barely registered, I think. So much had happened that day already—it was right after he punched Andrew Gilstrap and the world found out he'd been abused.'

To Hermione's surprise, Lucinda chuckled. 'This is why I'll always defend him. I took a bit of heat from my family about "Mothers For Harry Potter," you know.'

'Really? On what grounds?'

'My sister said he didn't need defending, and that I shouldn't call attention to myself like that.'

'Bugger that!' blurted Hermione, and Lucinda laughed.

'Well said! Next time, I think I'll use my maiden name, to drag my relations down with me.'

Still chopping ingredients, their conversation turned to Potions. They'd both read The Light Potioneer, which Hermione had received for her birthday, and they agreed it wasn't very helpful. 'That's the problem with Light magic,' said Hermione. 'The books I've read are maddeningly non-specific. The instructions all boil down to 'Ask your teacher,' which, if you think about it, defeats the purpose of a book.'

'That's why I never got anywhere with it,' said Lucinda. 'After Ryan was born and I was shackled to his side for seven years, I was forced to become an autodidact and learn from books. I'd still like to study with Davina Hampton, but first I want to complete my Healer training, such as it is.'

'I'm glad you think I can help, but I still don't know if it'll work.'

'I don't either, but that's why we're trying it out. And it's a good opportunity, at least.'

They were preparing drops to treat tinnitus, which Lucinda had previously tried on Walter without success. The plan was for each of them to brew the potion, only Hermione would imbue hers with Light magic, whatever that meant. Walter would use both potions: first Lucinda's, which they assumed wouldn't work, and then Hermione's.

'I can't see how I'll imbue a potion with Light magic when I can't even spark on command. You should really get Harry to help, once the Quidditch season ends.'

'I tried, but his auction price was too high,' said Lucinda dryly, and Hermione laughed. 'Besides, I'm certain you're up to the task. Ryan says your hair sparks more often now.'

'It does, but I still can't control it.'

'Surely you've noticed what triggers it!'

Hermione frowned, not wanting to reveal that Harry was the most consistent trigger. 'Davina says it's compassion, but I'm not convinced. I felt compassion earlier, when we were talking about Ryan's accidental magic, but my hair didn't spark.'

'And yet it's been happening more frequently lately,' said Lucinda, her expression thoughtful. 'Since quitting the Ministry, I assume?'

'I didn't quit the Ministry!'

'Sorry, wishful thinking. But you've been sparking more often since you reduced your hours?'

'That's right, but I think it's because I'm devoting myself to magic again.' Her thoughts turned to Harry and his theory that flying every day had helped uncork his Light magic.

Lucinda smiled and said, 'Yes, clearly that works. Have a look.'

Hermione extended a ringlet and saw it was sparking. Oh dear, I was thinking about Harry, she realised, and she deliberately guided her thoughts back to Ryan. She recalled how he'd looked on Sunday morning, his eyes heavy with ardour. His hair was still mussed from sleep, and she ran her hand through it, amazed by how willingly it returned to order.

Thinking about Ryan amplified her Light magic—which reminded her of Harry again, causing her contentment to deepen. He's my twin, she told herself, lost in a bewildering mix of emotions.

'I love Ryan,' she said aloud, and Lucinda chuckled.

'So I gathered! Can you maintain that state until we start brewing?'

'Yes, I think so,' said Hermione, closing her eyes. 'But maybe you should de-wing the Firebeetles.'

Hermione was grateful for the silence, and she suspended judgment about her confusing emotions. But she tested herself by thinking abstractly about Love and seeing whose image arose. Both of them, she realised. Harry's chaotic black hair, arresting green eyes, and cheeky half-smile, but Ryan's ... everything. The myriad ways she and Ryan had bared their souls to each other, and the way she felt when they were intimate. All the ways they were compatible, and her growing conviction they were made for each other.

No longer preparing ingredients, Hermione drifted from the kitchen into the corridor, which was lined with family pictures. She looked again at the Christmas photo, which Lucinda had called a lie. No it isn't, she thought. Ryan, bright-eyed and tow-haired, was clearly awestruck, and Walter radiated mischief and love. Next she looked at his primary school pictures: in the oldest one, the teacher sat front and centre, with a sign at her feet that said, 'Miss Lewis, Year 4, 1984.' Ryan stood at the back, grinning broadly, proud to be in school at last.

When they commenced brewing, Hermione still didn't know how to imbue her potion with Light magic, but she was in a sufficiently expanded state that she didn't mind. The advice from her book was to set a simple intention and then forget it. 'The Light brewer's primary task is to get out of the way and allow the magic to do its work,' said the text.

'May this potion cure Walter's tinnitus,' thought Hermione. At times she felt something flow from her towards the cauldron, but she tried to ignore it, since the book warned against taking physical sensations as proof of a magical transfer. 'Light magic is more subtle than conventional magic, and when we emphasise the physical component, we diminish its transformative power.'

When they finished, Hermione had no idea whether she'd successfully imbued her potion, but she was happy to have spent the morning brewing. Her afternoon at the Ministry, however, was far less satisfying. Octavia told her Bode had announced his Wizengamot agenda for the rest of the year, and there was no mention of goblins.

'Can't we go above him?' asked Hermione in frustration.

'Who do you have in mind?'

Hermione's first thought was Kingsley, but of course he'd stepped down as Minister the previous spring, after implementing numerous reforms. His successor was a career bureaucrat named Angela Budgeon, who had worked closely with former Minister Pius Thicknesse during the war. She'd recognised he was under the Imperius Curse but was unable to break it, so she consistently thwarted him instead. She also kept meticulous records, which had led to the arrest and conviction of two previously unidentified Death Eaters.

She was nevertheless considered a centrist, which Kingsley felt was necessary after his radical term in office. 'We crammed twenty years of progress into ten months,' he told a disappointed Harry at the time. 'Angela won't rock the boat, but she'll keep it steady—which is exactly what's needed if we don't want a backlash.'

'Minister Budgeon won't help—this is too incendiary for her,' said Hermione. 'And I assume Kingsley won't take it on.'

'No, he's determined not to act like he's still Minister,' said Octavia. 'He'll advise Bode, and disagree when necessary, but he won't go over Bode's head.'

Hermione sighed. 'What about next year's session?'

'That's our best hope. If enough voting members sponsor it, the Chief Warlock has to bring it to the floor.'

'Harry would do it. But how many co-sponsors does he need?'

'A total of thirteen. And not just hereditary members—he needs at least one department head.'

'That won't be a problem,' said Hermione confidently.

'Don't be so sure,' said Octavia. 'It's political suicide to sponsor legislation that doesn't pass. Harry could survive it, but others mightn't want to take the risk.'

'Oh for heaven's sake! Political suicide?'

'Yes, and it's probably worse for goblin legislation. Restitution, you know.'

Hermione scowled. 'I doubt that would happen here. The circumstances in Russia are completely different!'

In her copious research, she'd learnt that for centuries Gringotts had loaned money to the Romanovs, in an arrangement predating the International Statute of Secrecy. When the statute took effect, wizards stepped in as intermediaries, taking a percentage, of course. This already infuriated the goblins, who had opposed secrecy, but the 1918 Bolshevik Revolution made matters worse. The Romanovs, along with other Russian aristocrats, defaulted on their loans, resulting in huge losses for Gringotts. The bank attempted to recoup its losses from the wizard go-betweens, but the wizards objected, claiming they too were wiped out. This led to a violent confrontation between Russian wizards and goblins, which ended with an agreement to assist the Muggle counter-revolution, in the hope of restoring the monarchy and getting their gold back.

Other Russian wizards, however, sided with the Bolsheviks, and the ensuing magical war mirrored Russia's civil war, which ended in 1923 with a decisive Bolshevik victory. Many of the capitalist wizards left Russia, seeking fortune elsewhere. Others remained, and with their goblin allies they established an underground banking system, which ultimately thrived by supplying hard currency.

But the goblins never forgot their 1918 losses, and with the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991 and the rise of the Russian oligarchs—many of whom were wizards—the goblins demanded restitution. They argued that some the newly-privatised assets had been collateral for pre-1918 loans, which meant that the wizards who'd snapped them up after the fall of communism were required to repay the goblins' losses.

From what Hermione could tell, the goblins were right. The old loan agreements were unambiguous: as long as the property was privately held, Gringotts had the primary claim. The wizard oligarchs claimed the agreements were invalidated by decades of state ownership, and that they personally weren't subject to contracts signed before they were born. Which Hermione accepted for a few minutes, until she learnt they'd used Compulsion Charms to essentially steal the property from the crumbling Soviet empire.

'I agree the situation isn't analogous,' said Octavia, 'but as long as there's a restitution battle in Russia, the English wizards whose manor houses stand on what used to be goblin territory will be highly motivated to keep things as they are.'

'But the goblins aren't even asking for their old territory back!'

'Not yet, but they have a reputation for starting with a small request, and then escalating.'

Prior to her months of research, Hermione might have feared that Harry was in over his head, and that their efforts were misguided. But she'd read too many accounts of goblins being denied basic civil liberties under the banner of secrecy, and she was confident that new treaties were the right approach.

'Harry will simply have to convince people the goblins are a safe bet,' she declared. 'Which means I'll need to prepare arguments for him.'

Octavia gave her a stern look. 'Actually, they're not a safe bet, and you need to remember that. You have a strong bias towards the underdog, but that doesn't describe the goblins. When they're on top, they're just as brutal as wizards are.'

'I know that,' said Hermione, recalling Professor Binns' interminable lectures, but Octavia shook her head.

'You know it because you learnt it in school. But a lot of wizards learnt it through family lore, and inherited memories. The goblin wars were every bit as damaging as the recent Blood Wars, and that's not soon forgotten.'

'It is for Harry,' she retorted, a little defensive. 'He's put the war behind him entirely.'

'Harry's not like most people. And you'd do well to remember not everyone was Sorted into Gryffindor.'

'He's a Slytherin now,' mumbled Hermione. 'And you're right. I am biased towards the underdog, whoever that is.'

Octavia's expression softened. 'You should never stop fighting injustice, which is what this is. But you mustn't put either side on a pedestal.'

No, I'll save that for house-elves, thought Hermione. 'Thanks for the reminder. I tend to dismiss wizarding prejudices, but we can't afford to ignore them.'

'We'll make a politician out of you yet,' joked Octavia. 'I'm glad you're not giving up on the Ministry altogether.'

'No—as much as I'd like to tinker with magic all day, I can't just ignore wizarding society. And yes, I realise how grandiose that sounds.'

She meant to discuss the goblin situation with Harry that evening, before their Light magic lesson, but his trip to Boston proved more interesting. 'You need to go there,' he said. 'The portkeys weren't that bad, if you can believe it.'

'Yes, you were clearly in a good mood on the cover of today's Prophet.'

'That wasn't my idea,' he said sheepishly. 'Fiona ambushed me.'

'You mean she used her "Mum fatale" wiles on you? Serves you right, Mr World-Renowned Manhood.'

'Ugh, that headline. I panicked when I saw it this morning—it didn't occur to either of us they'd depict her that way.'

'How did she take it?' asked Hermione, assuming they'd spent the night together.

'I wasn't with her, actually. She doesn't want me spending the night until Matthew gets a bit more used to me. But judging from her letter today, I think she's all right.'

'Did you flood her with flowers yet?'

Harry's lips curled into a smile. 'What do you think?'

'I think you mortified her at work with a never-ending cascade of rose petals that followed her around.'

'You're wrong,' he said smugly. 'I sent her an orchid, which she called "shockingly understated." And she loved it.'

'Of course she did. When will I meet her?'

'At the match—she's bringing Matthew as well. Should Ryan and I swap tickets so you're together?'

'That would be lovely. But I usually sit with Walter and Lucinda—I assume she knows how to act around Muggles?'

'Good question ... she was fine in Boston, but I don't know how many Muggles she's met socially.'

'Is she a pure-blood, then?'

'Pretty much, and so was her husband. Even Draco couldn't find fault with her ancestry.'

'I'm sure she'd handle a Muggle better than Malfoy would!' exclaimed Hermione.

'Er, actually, he's made some progress in that regard.'

'Because his wand can no longer perform Dark curses?'

'Good guess, but no. It's because he's dating a Muggle.'

Hermione stared at him in shock. 'How did he even meet a Muggle, much less persuade her to date him?' She inhaled sharply and said, 'He's not compelling her, is he?'

'What? No!' Harry explained how they'd run into Penelope, the Muggle who'd concluded he was a faerie. 'Draco was having no success at all meeting women till Penelope brought her friend Vicki over. And, well, they hit it off.'

'Hit it off?' she asked sceptically.

'They hooked up. It was going to be a one-night stand, but he'd never been with someone, er, disinterested before. And he liked it.'

'Fancy that! I'm surprised he's able to get aroused without signing a bank draught first.'

'Hermione!' exclaimed Harry, with mock sternness.

She smirked and said, 'I'd apologise, but I'm not the least bit sorry. Does this mean she thinks he's a faerie?'

'It does, and she needed some convincing on that point. I'm at least a Light faerie, which is bad enough, but Dark faeries are downright vicious.'

'And she knows Draco is Dark?'

'There's no hiding it, really. But I convinced her we're allies now, and that he won't harm her.'

Hermione nearly blurted, 'Have you lost your mind?' But she was trying to be less judgmental, at least where Harry was concerned, so she simply asked, 'Are you sure that's true?'

'That he won't harm her? Absolutely. For one thing, his wand won't let him.'

'His wand won't let him perform Dark magic, but there are still plenty of ways he could hurt a Muggle.'

Harry shook his head. 'I really don't see that happening.'

'What if she cheats on him?'

'They're not dating exclusively,' he said, a trifle smugly.

'But where will they even meet? Obviously not at Malfoy Manor ... Is she our age?'

'Yeah, she goes to the University of Sheffield and lives in a residence hall. But Draco is renting a flat nearby.'

Hermione could scarcely believe what she was hearing. 'A Muggle flat? Not with electricity!'

Clearly enjoying her reaction, Harry said, 'Of course it has electricity. How else would he charge his mobile?'

'A mobile telephone! Draco Malfoy has a mobile telephone?'

'He does. In fact, I rang him at about four in the morning on Sunday. He wasn't pleased.'

'Was Vicki with him?'

'Yes, but I think they were asleep.' Harry raised his eyebrows and said, 'But if I get the timing right, maybe I can repeat your Howler trick.'

Hermione grimaced, recalling how she'd interrupted Harry and Helena mid-coitus a few months earlier. 'Couldn't you just send Kreacher?'

'No, because of secrecy. And I don't want Draco to figure out that the family magic is forcing the elves to deliver letters from him and Narcissa at top priority.' Furrowing his brow, he said, 'Oddly, it doesn't happen with Andromeda or the other Blacks.'

'Intertwined destiny,' said Hermione, and Harry stared at her.

'Why does everyone keep saying that?'

'Because it's obvious. But don't change the subject—you realise this is a gross secrecy violation, right?'

Smirking again, Harry said, 'Tell me, how are your grandparents doing these days?'

Hermione scowled. 'Yes, I've done it as well. But do you really expect Draco not to screw up?'

'No, he probably will screw up. But the faerie excuse is surprisingly versatile. So as long as he doesn't leave the Prophet lying around or show her his wand, it should be fine.'

'And what if Narcissa finds out?' asked Hermione, unconvinced. 'Narcissa could send a house-elf after him, turn up in Draco's love-nest, and curse the poor girl!'

Harry's smile vanished. 'That seems unlikely,' he said uncertainly. 'And Draco's not going to marry her, so there's no reason for Narcissa to be upset.'

'Upset that her only son is enamoured with a Muggle? No, you're right—I'm being silly.'

'She didn't curse Catherine White,' argued Harry.

'No, but there would be consequences if she came after a witch. A Muggle, on the other hand ...'

With a sigh of frustration, Harry said, 'If Lucius were out and about, yes, it would be an enormous risk. But this is Narcissa we're talking about, and she doesn't have the stomach for that kind of violence.'

'Have you and Draco discussed the possibility?'

'Er, no. But I can bring it up, if that'll make you feel better.'

Harry's tone wasn't patronising, but Hermione was still annoyed he hadn't taken the risk more seriously. 'Yes, I would feel better, although I can't believe you didn't anticipate a problem. Did you really think Narcissa wouldn't notice Draco not coming home several nights a week?'

'She'd assume he was in France,' shrugged Harry, prompting Hermione to rub her own forehead in vexation.

'Sodding wizards,' she grumbled. 'It's fine to squander the family fortune at a brothel and demean women in the process, but Merlin forbid he date someone non-magical!'

'I didn't make the rules,' said Harry. 'And before you say I should use my influence to change them, Rita Skeeter said I'm powerless on that point. But Lydia could do it.'

'She's right—Lydia could do it. I wonder how, though,' mused Hermione, putting her mind to the question. 'But you've changed the subject again!'

'Nonsense! But that reminds me, I got you a present in Boston. Or Cambridge, rather.'

'Cambridge, America?'

'Strictly speaking, it's Cambridge, Massachusetts. And yes,' said Harry, using his wand to Summon an item wrapped in tissue paper.

She pulled away the paper to reveal a maroon t-shirt. 'Harvard! I love it!'

'I was there yesterday, and it's Swot Central. It was embarrassing, really, because they'd never admit the likes of me, but you'd fit right in.'

'I'm going to pretend there was a compliment buried in there,' said Hermione, holding the shirt up to her chest. 'Did you get a souvenir as well?'

'Er, yeah,' he said sheepishly. 'But let's wait until Davina's here.'

'Oh? Does it involve Light magic?'

'Not exactly. But I'd rather not have to unveil it twice.'

'Unveil it? Now I'm really curious!'

But Harry stood his ground and refused to say more about his mysterious souvenir until after dinner, when Davina arrived and they went to the library. 'On Friday I was interviewed on an American radio programme, which was every bit as outrageous as Weasley's Wizard Wireless,' he began.

'You didn't strip again, did you?' said Davina, smiling.

'Oh my god, you modelled the product for them!' blurted Hermione. 'But what's the souvenir?'

'I did not strip,' said Harry indignantly. 'They didn't even ask, which is more than I can say for Lee and George. But they kind of dared me to, er, get a tattoo.'

'A tattoo! Where is it? Is it on your forearm, like a Dark Mark?'

'No, it's on my upper arm. And the reason I'm telling you is because the tattoo artist and I got to talking about how tattoos might align with Light magic. The Dark Mark was fuelled in part by Dark Magic, and we wondered whether there's a Light equivalent.'

Davina began to ponder the question, and Hermione said, 'Aren't you going to show it to us?'

'Er, that's up to Davina,' said Harry. 'Strictly speaking, it's not relevant to the discussion, and I didn't want to force it on her.'

'We'll see the rest of you soon enough,' said Davina. 'Go on, let's have it.'

Hermione was grinning as Harry removed his outer robes and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a white cotton vest. 'It's a bit bigger than I intended. I made the decision sober, more or less, but I drank to get up the courage—hence the size. On a related note, they have some first-rate beers in America. Better than you'd expect.'

Harry showed them his left upper arm. 'The Black family crest?' exclaimed Hermione, admiring the carefully-inked greyhounds. 'A surprising choice, but well executed.'

'Hang on—that's just the base version.' Harry muttered a charm, and the two sleek dogs were replaced by a stag and a mongrel.

'Padfoot!' cried Hermione. 'And Prongs! And that's Moony in the middle!'

'Mischief managed?' said Davina, raising one eyebrow.

'It's a long story, but yeah,' said Harry. 'Kind of a motto.'

'And a tribute to Fred,' said Hermione fondly, recalling the words on his gravestone. 'Harry, that's beautiful.'

He looked relieved. 'And there are lilies on top, for my mum,' he said, pointing them out. 'Originally the artist had it display this version when my Light magic was flowing, but it got stuck, so he changed it to use a simple charm.'

'That's good,' said Davina, 'you don't want a reason to inhibit your Light magic. But let's return to whether there's a Light equivalent to the Dark Mark.'

'Not an equivalent, exactly. But I get the impression the Dark Mark was fuelled by Dark magic and maybe reinforced it. Not to mention the communications aspect, and probably other things that only a Death Eater could tell us.'

'Do you think Malfoy would spill the beans?' smirked Hermione.

'It's not out of the question, actually. He's rather bitter about Voldemort—maybe I can get it out of him someday.'

Davina said, 'Magical tattoos are a fascinating topic, actually. Hermione, you studied Ancient Runes, right?'

'I did, and I remember the part about runic tattoos. But are there Light runic tattoos?'

'There are, although the English method died out, as far as I know. In fact, it's ripe for a revival, if you find that appealing.'

Hermione had trouble imagining herself with a tattoo, but she was curious nonetheless. 'Why does Britain need its own method? Don't Light wizards in other countries have similar methods?'

'I said English, not British. And yes, there are other methods for Light runic tattoos—the Sanskrit tradition is quite strong, for example. But unless you lived in India, or spoke a language derived from Sanskrit, you wouldn't get much benefit.'

'That can't be right! Magic doesn't have a language,' argued Hermione, recalling the Slavic charms Viktor Krum had taught her. He'd explained how the incantations only had to be arithmantically compatible with the magical task, and she performed the charms easily.

'Ordinary magic doesn't have a language,' said Davina, 'but this is Light magic, which works differently.'

Harry, who'd put his shirt back on, was listening intently. 'Is that because it relies more heavily on emotions?' he asked.

'In part. But Light magic is also about our relationship with reality—more so than conventional magic. That's why Muggles can experience it, except for the obviously magical aspects like glowing, shielding, and so forth.'

Hermione was almost dizzy with questions. Not knowing where to start, she said, 'What do you mean by "our relationship with reality?"'

Davina took a deep breath before answering. 'Now that's a question for the ages. The short answer is that our intuitive understanding of the world is almost entirely backwards. We see objects and other beings as separate from ourselves, and we fail to grasp the role our own mind plays in crafting our experience. And by "mind" I'm referring to what my husband Christopher used to call "the deep mind."'

'Is that the subconscious?'

'It is, but the reason I prefer the term "deep mind" is that it implies more than just thoughts and impulses. The deep mind is what takes all the data provided by our senses and stitches it into a coherent reality.'

'And Light magic alters that somehow?' asked Hermione, feeling lost.

'No, it begins to shed light on what's actually happening—to the extent that the word "actually" even applies,' said Davina. 'When a witch or wizard crosses the threshold into Light magic, as both of you have done, they have an experience of accurate perception. For some it may be all-absorbing, in which case it's indescribable. But for others it's only partial, and they can more easily put it into words.'

Hermione remembered the precise moment during her strange conversation with Luna when she realised she was only an elaboration. Davina paused, allowing them to process what she'd just said, and Harry spoke first.

'The vision I had when I died, when I saw Dumbledore in King's Cross,' he said uncertainly. 'Was that an accurate perception?'

'If it could pass for real life, no—I suspect your moment of transition was largely unconscious. But the way we know something happened is because of the deep peace and altered perceptions that followed. And, in your case, the tremendous experience of love.'

Harry nodded, and Hermione knew he was feeling strong Light magic, since she was as well. 'How can a momentary experience be so powerful?' she asked.

'Because truth is stronger than falsehood. And once you've had a glimpse, it tends to propagate. Well, usually.'

'Usually?' said Hermione, alarmed.

'You're right to be concerned, because it's a real problem,' said Davina. 'The parts of our mind that prefer ignorance are very powerful, and they'll use every trick in the book to maintain the status quo.'

'How would I even know if that were happening?' asked Hermione, recalling Davina's stories of Light masters who abused their power. 'Would I lose my Light magic?'

'You might do, particularly as you get older. But it's more common for your Light magic to stagnate. Those sneaky parts of your mind might say, "Hey, this is rather good. No reason to push any harder, and there's definitely no reason to investigate that dark corner over there."'

With a sinking feeling, Hermione asked, 'And what's in that dark corner?'

'The ego.'

Harry sighed heavily. 'I really am fucked, aren't I?'

'We all are,' said Davina. 'But what's called "egotism" is only one facet of the ego, and it's not particularly worse than the others.'

'Oh?' said Harry, looking somewhat relieved.

'What I mean by the ego is the part of us that clings to a narrative. This happens at countless levels, both gross and subtle. And yes, at the gross level your ego might be caught up in your own status as league Seeker, war hero, and underwear model,' she said with a chuckle. 'But it could equally get caught in the opposite story, about how much you've suffered and been mistreated. So, well done, not getting stuck in that narrative.'

'This one's more fun,' said Harry dryly. 'But is this why you're always on about having someone to point out your blind spots?'

'It is. And ultimately your progress in Light magic depends on flooding those dark corners with the truth. Which is why it's a lifelong practice—anyone who tells you they're fully enlightened has just hidden away their dark corners more thoroughly.'

The conversation continued in the same vein until Hermione asked, 'What does all this have to do with language? You said Light magic is language-dependent, whilst ordinary magic isn't.'

'Yes, it's ironic, considering language doesn't exist in the realm of accurate perception,' said Davina. 'But until we get there, we use emotions—the more raw the better. And our native language is always more raw than one we've learnt. The French word "amour," for example, doesn't hit you the same way as the word "love."'

'But runes aren't my native language,' argued Hermione. 'I had to learn Anglo-Saxon Futhark, same as I learnt French.'

'Yes, but Anglo-Saxon runes have been used in Britain for centuries. They're all around us, and we've been steeped in them our whole life, just as with our native language. And again, non-native runes aren't a problem when you're performing conventional magic, but they don't quite work with Light magic.'

'What about immigrants?' asked Harry. 'Not everyone in England has Anglo-Saxon roots.'

'It's about language, not blood. And local magics as well—it's especially complicated in places like America and Australia, where indigenous magic was trampled by colonialism.'

Hermione took a moment to absorb what Davina had said. 'I'm not sure I'll want to specialise in British runic tattoos,' she began. 'Sorry, Harry.'

Harry shrugged. 'One tattoo is plenty, thanks.'

'But the intersection between Light magic and language is fascinating. And of course the part about accurate perceptions.' With a deep wave of joy, she blurted, 'There's so much to learn!' and she knew her hair was sparking.

When she pulled on a ringlet, however, it was normal. Davina noticed it and said, 'Oho, what's this?'

'I was sure I'd be sparking, but I'm not. Does this mean I can control it now?'

'It might just. And well done!'

'Congratulations, you got there without a celibacy vow,' said Harry, grinning. 'Can you make your hair spark on demand now?'

'Good question. How do you glow on demand?'

'I just do,' he said, lighting up. 'Go on, I'm sure you can too.'

Hermione looked at Davina, who nodded. 'Don't think about how to do it—just do it.'

Still holding out a ringlet, Hermione watched the sparks appear. For a moment she only smiled, then she asked, 'Does this mean I'm through the accidental phase?'

Harry laughed and said, 'Davina, she wants a grade.'

'I do not!' cried Hermione, blushing. 'Oh blast, I do.'

'As ever, Exceeds Expectations,' said Davina, and Hermione's face fell. 'I'll never give an Outstanding, because it leaves no room for improvement. And yes, you're probably nearing the end of the accidental phase, but you're both still beginners.'

Hermione was still frowning, and Harry said, 'But she's the cleverest witch of her age, right?'

'Harry, stop teasing me!' she said, swatting him.

'She also hits sometimes,' he smirked. 'Not to mention that flock of birds she once set on Ron.'

Her hair was still sparking, and Hermione felt a whirl of emotions. 'I was provoked!' she declared. No, you weren't, retorted her mind. You were jealous because Ron was snogging Lavender.

Harry's cheeky grin melted into a look of compassion. 'You're right, I suppose you were provoked,' he said gently. 'Davina, forget I mentioned it.'

'No, you're right to bring it up,' said Hermione. 'That was vicious of me, and completely unwarranted.'

'Not completely—he and Lavender sounded like a hoover with a wet sock stuck inside.' Hermione started laughing, and Harry explained to a puzzled Davina what they were talking about.

'I have a temper as well,' said Davina. 'Although I never attacked anyone with birds—not even my father.'

'Lavender died in the Battle of Hogwarts,' said Hermione, somewhere between laughter and tears. 'Poor thing—she deserved so much better.'

'She did,' said Harry hoarsely, and Hermione could see he too was overwrought.

'Can we cast like this?' she asked Davina. 'I think we're both flooded with emotion right now.'

Harry surprised Hermione by taking her hand. 'She's right—it must be a twin thing.'

'The two of you!' said Davina incredulously. 'And yes, you can cast like this. but let's settle your energy first.' After leading them through a guided meditation, she taught them a spell to conjure a small wooden oval, using their emotions towards Lavender. When they finished, she told them to hold the smooth piece of wood they'd each created and to appreciate its perfection.

'You had mixed feelings towards this witch—both of you,' said Davina, and they nodded.

'I can't help thinking she'd still be alive if I'd sacrificed my life sooner,' sighed Harry.

Hermione had far too many feelings about Lavender to summarise. They'd been roommates for six years but never really friends. At the time, Hermione had felt excluded by Lavender and Parvati, but she knew now she'd treated them poorly and dismissed them as shallow. And her jealousy over Ron just seemed silly in hindsight.

'Feel the object you created from those emotions,' said Davina. 'It's perfect, no?'

Hermione let her thumb stroke the smooth wood and rounded edges. Yes, it's perfect, she thought, cupping it within her palm.

'The truth is always perfect,' said Davina. 'The pieces might be ugly or unpleasant, but the whole is sublime. There's always a place for regret, and wishing we could have done better, but you'll get farther if you appreciate the perfection of the things you can't change.'

'But it's not perfect,' said Harry, still upset. 'I know that's how it happened, but I'll never be all right with Lavender's death, nor any of the deaths I could have prevented.'

'Then sit with that. Feel the perfection of your non-acceptance.'

Harry frowned, and Hermione could sense his inner struggle. Poor Harry, she thought. The most envied wizard in Britain, and still carrying the weight of the world.

She too had regrets; for example, she should have worked out he was a Horcrux much sooner. But she was grateful never to have realised it. I could never have told him, she thought sadly.

She reached for his free hand and silently offered him Light magic. His breathing gradually steadied, which she hoped was a good sign. 'Thank you,' he said quietly.

He didn't say much else that night, and after their lesson Hermione hugged him and Flooed to Ryan's flat. There she found her boyfriend lying on the sofa, listening to music at top volume.

'Is everything all right?' she shouted.

He lowered the volume using his wand. 'Yes, I'm fine. I just like to lose myself sometimes.'

'Then don't let me stop you. Go on, turn it back up.'

'You're not afraid of tinnitus?' he joked, sitting up so she could join him on the sofa.

'No, it turns out there's a potion. Did your dad say whether it worked?'

'So far he's only tried the control, which had no effect,' said Ryan. 'He'll try your version tomorrow.'

She leaned in to kiss him, and they lay down together and listened to the album, which was one of his favourites. Hermione liked it too, but she knew that for Ryan listening to music was almost a religious experience. She couldn't entirely relate—she preferred to lose herself in a book—but she appreciated the differences between Ryan and herself.

Only two songs remained, and after the album ended he was silent for a while. 'How can anyone think Muggles are inferior?' he finally said.

'Don't ask me,' said Hermione. 'Draco Malfoy might be able to tell you, although apparently he has a Muggle girlfriend now.'

'Remarkable. Is that Harry's doing?'

'Who else? Did you see his tattoo today at practice?'

Ryan turned to face her. 'I did. But did he show it to you as well?'

'Yes, to me and Davina. It was relevant to the Light Arts, believe it or not.'

'I believe it,' said Ryan. 'Whenever I think I have him figured out, some new wrinkle appears.'

'What do you mean?' asked Hermione, tensing a little.

'He just defies categorisation somehow.'

'Does this mean you no longer think he's immature?'

'When did I ever say that?'

'All the time!' said Hermione. 'Whenever the Prophet shows him with a new witch, for example.'

'You're right—that's terribly unfair of me, considering he missed his chance with you. And I probably am too hard on him, but remember, that's part of my job.'

'As my boyfriend?' she said, puzzled.

'No, as a Cannon. My job as your boyfriend is entirely different. Which reminds me, isn't it time to uncharm your hair?' he said, with a suggestive look in his eyes.

Smiling, Hermione said, 'I can do one better.' She unleashed her hair from its ringlets and allowed it to spark.

'Blimey! Does this mean you're past the accidental stage?'

'I'm still a beginner, but yes. I can finally control it.' She recalled what Lucinda had told her that morning about Ryan's struggles as a child, and her affection for him deepened.

'You're brilliant, you know,' he said, playing with her newly-wild hair.

'Knock it off!' she snapped, and he pulled his hand away. 'No, not the hair—I mean all the praise. I'm worried you're creating a monster!'

'A monster? Hardly!'

'Don't be so sure—tonight Harry reminded me of the time I set a flock of birds on Ron, just because he was snogging someone else.'

'While you were dating? If so, he deserved it!'

'No, a year earlier. And even if we were dating, that's no excuse to peck his eyes out.'

'Surely you'd have stopped things before that happened!'

'You're missing the point,' said Hermione. 'I was being a bully, and Harry was right to call me out.'

'But you're not like that now. Unless you're off attacking people behind my back all day.'

'No, but I'm still prone to fly off the handle, and to assume I'm always right. Like that time I sent Harry a Howler.'

Ryan chuckled and said, 'On our first date, no less. I plan to tell our grandchildren about that!'

'I'm serious, it's a problem! Tonight Davina said how important it is to identify our own bad behaviour, otherwise my Light magic could stagnate, or disappear entirely.'

In an instant, Ryan's expression softened. 'Well, we can't have that,' he said, playing with her hair again. 'And yes, I'll try not to praise you too much. But promise you'll do the same—it would be a shame to wreck my Light magic before it even turns up.'

They assumed he'd eventually develop Light magic, if it was indeed transmissible, and she sometimes worried it hadn't happened yet. But she recalled the wooden oval she'd conjured that night, and how it had felt in her hand. This too is perfect, she thought, and a part of her believed it.