Vanguard

by kitsunerei88

[Sequel to Liar Liar and From America With Love] Revolutions don't begin with spellfire and flying Molotov Potions. Revolutions begin with people. This revolution begins with a pureblood boy standing trial for a ruse he and his halfblood cousin have perpetrated, and a halfblood bastard with a gift for uncovering secrets.

5. Chapter 5

The note found its way into his pocket, but Archie had no idea when it had appeared there. It had to have been last night, or maybe even the night before – he didn't own more than one suit, so he was in the same suit, day in and day out. He didn't remember the note being in his pocket when he took it off last night, always the first thing he did when he got home, but after that it had just sat in his closet all night, so it had to have been there. And if it was there and he hadn't noticed it last night, it was possible it had been there for days, maybe even a week.

Still, whenever he found it, it had to have been some time since Harry had written it. He recognized her writing, and a slow smile spread across his face as he opened it.

Archie,

Don't worry, I'm fine! Really – I know that's a bit of a joke between us, now, but I'm really fine, I promise.

I can't tell you much about what I'm doing, in case this falls in the wrong hands, but I've been travelling a lot. There are plenty of new potions ingredients for me to experiment with – or, not new ones, but the kind of ingredients that I could only get dried in Britain, which are fresh here. The drying process really changes the ingredient's properties, which is fascinating, so I've been taking notes on it and maybe I'll write a paper on it, one day. I would tell you more but telling you would give you too many clues as my location, so… sorry about that.

I wish you could write me back. I have a friend delivering this for me, but by the time you receive it, I probably will have moved on. Hope you're all right – I don't like the news I'm hearing out of Britain right now, so I hope you know what you're doing.

Love,

Harry

She was fine. Harry was doing fine, and her letter sounded so much better than all her letters from Hogwarts had ever sounded. It was the lack of anything awful happening, Archie thought. For once in her life, since she had started school, no one was trying to kill her and she wasn't worried about people discovering her, discovering her secret. Instead, this was Harry as he remembered her – fascinated with Potions, an academic at heart.

He folded the letter up, tucking it in his pocket, and bounded downstairs with a broad grin on his face. It was his first day of testimony today, and he had to be a thousand percent on. Finding Harry's letter today felt like a sign, a wish of good luck from the universe, and he would put a good face on everything.

"You look happy," Dad said, eyebrow raised as Archie walked back into the kitchen. Dad was already in his dress robes, with a mug of coffee in hand, deep shadows under his eyes. John and Chess were both seated at the kitchen table, breakfast in front of them, still in their sleeping clothes – sweatpants and a t-shirt for John, a ruffled nightgown decorated with teddy bears for Chess. Uncle Remus was there too, leaning against the counter, a glass of juice in hand.

"Letter from Harry." Archie pulled it out of pocket and passed it to Dad. "She sounds good! I found it in my pocket this morning – no idea how it got there."

Probably one of her connections through the King of Thieves, Archie belatedly realized. He was a little embarrassed not to have noticed someone slipping something in his pocket, but Leo probably knew a few master pickpockets. It couldn't be much different, slipping something in his pocket or lifting a purse.

Dad skimmed the letter quickly, a small smile lighting up his face, then passed the letter to Uncle Remus. "That's good – I'll mention it to James, in our Two-Way mirror. Are you ready for your first day of testimony?"

Archie shrugged, accepting the letter back from Uncle Remus, folding it back up to slide in his pocket. It would be his good luck charm for the day. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"You got this, Arch." John looked up from his omelette. "This is just like the interview, just more so. Remember you have to be honest – when it comes to actual lie detection, Justice is only a better version of your run-of-the-mill Truth-Speaker. She'll be able to pick up lies, half-truths, lies of omission, and she's probably better than Aldon is at sussing out the meaning between the lies, but she still can't read objective truth. If you deeply, genuinely believe what you're saying, you won't be picked up, all right?"

"Yeah." Archie took a deep breath. "Percy's prepared me, and you all have, too. I'll be fine."

"What are you thinking, for food tonight?" Chess leaned forwards, encouraging. "Whatever you want, Archie. Greek? Italian? Northern Chinese? Filipino? Peruvian?"

"Whatever you pick will be great," Archie replied. "I don't really know what any of those are."

"Souvlaki, gyros and moussaka it is, then." Chess smiled, standing up to take her plate to the sink. "Good luck, Archie. I know you'll be amazing."

"Thanks," Archie grinned. "I'm sure it'll be delicious."

Almost two weeks into the trial, the courtroom had emptied out. Archie was, of course, there every day, with Hermione, Dad and Uncle Remus. There were a few reporters – someone from the Daily Prophet for sure, but Archie wasn't sure about the rest. Someone from the Irish Gales, probably, maybe someone from one of the big American papers, either the American Standard or the New York Ghost. But most of the others were gone; most of Harry's friends had disappeared after the first day, as had the most prominent nobles, including Lord Dumbledore. Malfoy and Parkinson had kept coming, though their parents had only come on the days they took the stand, but even the two of them had disappeared after Nott's testimony.

Archie wouldn't have minded having more of an audience – it would have helped put him in the frame of mind for a performance, which was partially what giving testimony would be. But in some ways, it was better than the courtroom was mostly empty, because as much as it was a performance, it also wasn't one. This wasn't a show, it wasn't even a spun interview – Archie had to be thoroughly honest, completely genuine today, and he had to put the best food forward on why the laws were unfair, why they should be struck.

If you don't believe in yourself, no one will, he reminded himself, standing when Percy finally called him to the stand, Archie took his time, standing up and smoothing his No-Maj jacket, feeling Harry's letter crinkle in his pocket. He walked towards the witness box, taking long, smooth steps that he knew would read as confidence to the Court, to the reporters, to his family still watching him. He would be strong, and when he sat down, quietly taking the usual oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, he looked out at the empty courtroom.

Hermione was watching him, and she gave him a small, worried smile.

"Would you please introduce yourself to the Court?"

Archie nodded, and he kept his voice slower than usual, more thoughtful. Just like the interview, he needed to be likeable, but they didn't think his usual excitability played as well with a large audience, not for someone they needed to be a leader. "My name is Arcturus Rigel Black, though my friends and my family call me Archie, or Arch. I was born August 3, 1980, and I am currently a fifth-year at the American Institute for Magic. I am in the Healing program, where my concentration is Infectious Disease, with a secondary focus in No-Maj – Muggle – medicine."

"Can you tell us about your family?"

"My father is Sirius Orion Black, and my mother is Diana Anastasia Black, née Fawley," Archie replied, his voice smooth, without any pauses. These were the easy questions, that left an impression of who he was on the Court, on the audience. He would be calm, he would be confident, he would be likeable and understandable and relatable. "My father, the Lord Black, was an Auror, but he retired when my mother became ill. My mother passed away on February 21, 1989. Aside from my mother and father, I grew up with father's closest school friends: Remus John Lupin and James Fleamont Potter. My Uncle James married my aunt Lily – Lillian Jennifer Potter, née Evans. And there is my cousin, Harry Potter, Harriett Euphemia Potter." He paused. "She always hated her middle name."

"Would you tell us a little about your childhood?"

Archie nodded. "I would say I had a very happy childhood, for the most part," he started with a small sigh, leaning forward in his seat. "I grew up with the three founders of the Marauders brand of pranking products, so pranking and jokes were second nature to Harry and I. Harry and I grew up together – she was born only four days before me, on July 31, 1980, so I don't remember a time when I didn't have Harry around me. We saw each other every day, or almost every day – our parents cared for us together, as a unit. I think our childhoods were very normal, for wizarding children. My Aunt Lily was the one who taught the two of us how to read, how to write, our arithmetic. My Uncle Remus looked after us during the day, when our parents were working, he was very encouraging of all our interests – when my cousin Harry became interested in Potions, it was my Uncle Remus who gave her her first potions kit, then who helped her get the more advanced textbooks and journals that she wanted. My Uncle James taught us how to fly, and my Dad taught us about pranks, walked us through a lot of the techniques and guided us on making our own pranks that, you know, he would then let us spring on him because we were children. We were very fortunate, to grow up in a loving and close family."

"You said for the most part," Percy replied, looking down at his notes. "Can you elaborate?"

"My mother passed away," Archie said baldly, looking away. He didn't cry – not to say that he couldn't, but now, thinking about Mum made him as angry as it made him sad, so crying would have been a lie. There was a brief pause, and he took the time to pour himself a glass of water on the stand, gathering his thoughts. "My mother first became ill when I was six, and she passed away when I was eight. That is… I would say that is the most defining part of my life, before I started school. Aside from my mother passing away, I think that I had the same kinds of problems that every child has, especially children with siblings. For example, Harry had a phase where she would steal my clothing because she found them more comfortable and leave me wearing her dresses. I didn't like it, but our mothers thought it was adorable, so…" He shrugged. "Living with anyone, there are always things that happen, here or there, but they don't impact your experience as a whole."

Percy nodded, understanding. He had five brothers and a sister, including two very rambunctious twin brothers. If there was anyone who understood the impact of siblings, it was Percy Weasley. "Can you tell us more about your relationship with Harry Potter?"

"Harry is my sister, in every way that matters." Archie smiled – not a bright smile, more of a nostalgic one. "Almost my twin – sometimes I think of her as my twin sister, because we even used to look the same. And aside from being my sister, she and I – well, with the Split, we rarely met any other children of our age. Until I went to school, Harry was my only friend, my best friend, and a huge part of my world. We saw each other every day, our families cared for us together, we had sleepovers half the week – we pretty much lived together. Harry was beside me when Mum was sick, Harry was the one who held my hand through the funeral and the burial, she was the one who checked in on me afterwards, who sometimes, if she was there, held me when I cried. We learned to read together, we were part of the same junior Quidditch Leagues, we played pranks with each other and against each other. She taught me Potions, just as I taught her Healing. She was – well, there's just no describing my childhood without her, she was so prevalent throughout all of it. I don't know how to put it, other than – she is my sister."

"Can you tell us more about Harry, about her interests, what she was like?"

Archie laughed, a soft laugh, almost a little surprised, confused. He was glad that he couldn't see Justice from his vantage point, not without craning his neck to the side, and she hadn't said anything yet, which he had learned was a good sign. When she spoke, it was pretty much always in disapproval – typically over lying. She had shown very little interest in the actual testimony, though she had to be listening closely. "How do I describe Harry?"

He took his time, thinking about it, thinking about what words he would use to describe her, thinking both about what was true, but also what would paint her in the best light. What were the best words that he could use, that would paint her in all her complexities?

"Harry is gifted," he said finally. "Harry is extremely gifted. She's smart, she's hardworking, and she's a Potions prodigy. I think she might even be a genius, in Potions, at least. I don't think you can talk about Harry without talking about Potions. She was four when she read her first potions article – I don't remember what it was, or why we had it, or what it was about, I only remember the look on her face. Her eyes, which are bright, electric green, were just huge, like she had discovered a whole new world, and I guess she had. She started getting those Brew Your First Potions kits after that, the ones where they include the exact ingredients to make something simple, and Uncle Remus or Aunt Lily would watch her through her first few. She started getting pretty good, pretty fast, though, so soon the kits turned into textbooks, ingredient encyclopaedias, potions journals."

He laughed again, a more genuine one this time, remembering. He held his little goblet of water between his hands and looked down into it. "Our parents didn't know what to make of it – my Aunt Lily has some Potions skill, but not like Harry. It came out of nowhere, and she's so – she's incredibly gifted at Potions. She got an internship at the Potions Guild when she was just thirteen, and then she made her own discovery, Shaped Imbuing. That's how good she is at Potions, and she was also obsessed with the topic, she read everything she could about it. Everything she could get her hands on, she read. When your sister is like that, it's… I don't know how to put it. You're proud of her, and you love her so, so much, and you want the world for her because you know if she can just be let out there to live her dreams, it'll be amazing. You learn to deal with the tics of genius – Harry is incredibly focused, she's very dedicated, and sometimes that means other things fall by the wayside. She is brilliant, she works hard, she's level-headed and fair and kind, she always tried to look out for me and take care of me – but she could also be oblivious, she sometimes has tunnel vision, and she can be aggravating. But on the whole, she's wonderful."

He didn't need to go on for that long about the wonders of Harry – Parkinson had already done it for him, and all he was doing was adding to it, almost mimicking her. The difference was, Parkinson only knew Harry as Rigel, whereas Archie had known Harry before that. His own words would reinforce hers, and it wasn't a bad picture of Harry to give. Parkinson and Malfoy had painted out more of her positives, anyway.

"When did you learn about blood-status, about the blood discrimination laws?"

Archie sighed, the smile disappearing off his face, taking a sip of his water. His throat was getting dry from talking. "I – I'd like to say I don't know, but that's not entirely true. I mean, on some level I really don't know – I don't know how to put it. We always knew that it was there. As a child, your parents talk, they tiptoe around some things and you have some ideas about it, but you don't really know. I knew blood-status existed, as in pureblood, halfblood, Muggleborn. I knew I was a pureblood, I knew Aunt Lily was a Muggleborn. I knew Harry was a halfblood."

"But I don't think it really hit me until we were seven." He looked up, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "We were seven, and Harry had just found the articles of Potions Master Severus Snape. I found her on the floor of the sitting room, lying in front of the fire, a giant journal in her tiny little hands, and she looked up and me and said "Archie, you have to read this. It's beautiful." It was one of Master Snape's first papers on the Wolfsbane Potion and she just – she just ate it up. We – we knew that Uncle Remus was a werewolf, and both of us are very close to Uncle Remus, and maybe that was what drew her to this article at first but – but she loved that paper. She carried it around, read it over and over again until it was dogeared and tatty, and then she found a second copy of that particular journal and got Aunt Lily to put protection spells on it, and I think that one is still on her shelf in her bedroom. Anyway. She found out that Master Snape taught at Hogwarts, and there were a few weeks, I think, where all she would talk about was how excited she was to go to Hogwarts, to learn from Master Snape himself. She was so excited."

He fell silent for a moment, remembering. Mum was sick then, so Archie and Dad had been in and out of St. Mungo's. He had been worried about Mum, and reading Healing journals to figure out what the Healers were saying, and he hadn't been there when Aunt Lily and Uncle James had sat her down and explained the world to her. "I found Harry in her room one day, crying. Harry – Harry doesn't cry very often. I can count on one hand the times I've seen Harry cry. She was crying her heart out, and I crawled onto her bed with her and I asked her what was wrong, what had happened. And she told me that she couldn't go to Hogwarts, because Hogwarts didn't accept people like her."

"I didn't understand, at first, not really. I thought – I thought that meant I couldn't go to Hogwarts either, but I – I never had any real, inherent interest in going to Hogwarts. I told her that it was fine, that we'd just go to another school, but she said no, no, I could go to Hogwarts, but she couldn't. Because I was a pureblood, and she wasn't." He paused again, trying to find words to describe that moment to the world. "Before this, to me, blood status was just like eye colour, or hair colour or – or the shape of your ears. It was just a fact, totally meaningless. This was the first time I realized that, even if Harry was my sister in every way that mattered, that wasn't enough. There were laws defining things that she wasn't allowed to do, that I could, because of something that really hadn't mattered to us."

"How did that affect you?"

"I – I don't know if I really understood it." Archie laughed softly, though the noise was a little unreal. He wasn't Harry, he didn't connect the dots as fast as she did, even now. He had always relied on other people to help him with that, whether it was Harry, or Hermione, or even John or Chess. "I actually don't think the full ramifications hit me for some time, and then it came on slowly, there wasn't just one clear-cut moment when the shock hit me. Initially, of course, I was surprised, and then I think it took me a few days to really understand that I could go to Hogwarts, and Harry couldn't. I – then, I think I was confused, and then I was upset because Harry was upset, because I didn't want to go to school without Harry. I didn't want to go to Hogwarts if Harry couldn't go, and it was like – it was like the rule was taking my sister away from me."

They broke for lunch – time seemed to just slip away, on the stand, and Archie didn't even realize it. He was too busy trying to paint a picture for Justice, for the few reporters that were still in the room. His pace of speaking was slower, too, and with all the natural pauses he had, as well as the pauses he put in to let the court staff, the reporters, take notes, everything took a lot longer than he had expected. Percy said this was a good time for a break, so he sat out, on the steps of the Wizarding Courts of Law, a Tupperware container of leftover fried rice in his lap, snacking at it with a conjured spoon. At this rate, he wouldn't be off the stand for two days or more, so he should eat, but his stomach was knot of nerves.

He had barely finished half of it before he was back on the stand. He exchanged quick, polite smiles to the court staff, settling back into the hard, wooden seat. His back was going to kill him later, and he couldn't even cast a muscle relaxant until he got home.

"How about your accidental magic?" Percy asked, picking up not quite where they had left off, and Archie knew that Percy was gearing to deal with the danger of wild magic issue. "What sort of incidents did the two of you have?"

"For me?" Archie paused thinking. "I had the usual incidents. I fell off my broom, once, and I bounced. Once, I was upset and crying, and the room started raining. I didn't want to eat my vegetables, so the dish cracked, things like that. For Harry, I honestly don't remember a lot. She always had such good control of her magic – I knew she was magical, I remember one incident when we were playing in the Black attic and she was about to fall, but she didn't because her magic caught her. She got control of her magic really young, so I remember when I was really little, she used to break the wards around some parts of Potter Place – that's Peverell Hall, formally – so that we could go exploring. But sometime, after we were five, she stopped doing that, she refused. After that, I don't remember any incidents at all. She was always afraid of what she could do, but I never knew why, because she always had such tight control of her magic."

"Were you ever frightened of her, or her magic?"

"Never." Archie shook his head in emphasis. "If anything, I felt reassured by it – even if Harry was frightened by it, I knew that Harry had enough control and would never have hurt me, and if anything happened, I knew she would act to protect me."

Percy nodded, moving on to his next line of questioning – the ruse. Archie had to be the most careful about the ruse, because he and Harry had broken the law, and no matter what Archie said, he knew that the Prophet would twist his words. His job was to make his words strong enough that they could only twist them so far, that the alternate narratives the BIA, the Irish Gales, the American Standard and the New York Ghost, La Presse Magique and all the other reporters would send out would sound more credible and real. Archie's job, in this trial, was to bring a human face to the blood discrimination laws.

Percy shifted slightly at the podium. "Tell us about the ruse. How did that begin?"

Archie sighed, taking his time to pick his words carefully. "As I said, I didn't want to go to Hogwarts. I had – by the time we were picking schools, I had lost Mum, and I was already interested in Healing. Like Harry was interested in Potions and read Potions journals, I read Healing journals, I studied Healing memoirs and read books about Healing. The best Healing school in the Western hemisphere is at the American Institute of Magic, where my Aunt Lily went, and I knew that. And Harry, of course, couldn't go to Hogwarts, so if I could convince Dad to send me to AIM, it seemed perfect – Harry could come to AIM too, we would be together, and I would get the Healing program I wanted."

"Dad…" Archie looked straight at Percy, not wanting to look at Dad when he said it. He knew Dad had to be expecting something like this, but he didn't want to see the look of disappointment on his Dad's face that Archie had never wanted to go to Hogwarts, had no feeling whatsoever about his father's beloved school. "Dad refused. I got angry. I threw a temper tantrum. I think – had Mum been living, I probably would have been very happy to go to Hogwarts. But she wasn't. She died, and the best Healing school I could go to was AIM. I wanted to go there so I could become a Healer. From AIM, you can graduate at seventeen with a basic Mediwizard license and head straight into a specialization, and it saves about five years off schooling. By comparison, Hogwarts doesn't even offer a Healing NEWT. I knew I wanted to be a Healer – I am becoming a Healer. I didn't see the point of wasting years of time at Hogwarts, then an apprenticeship, when AIM's program is so strong. I wanted to go to AIM.

"Harry came to me, that night, with the idea to switch." Archie smiled slightly, a little grimly. The most important thing for him to emphasize here was that, even if it was Harry's idea, Archie had been on board – he had been a thousand percent on board. He could not look like he was throwing all the blame on her. "It sounded like the ideal solution to our problems. Harry wanted to go to Hogwarts, and I didn't. I wanted to go to AIM, and Harry could arrange it so that she was registered for AIM, and I could go there under her name. I agreed. We knew it was risky, but Harry was willing to take that risk to work under Master Snape, and I – I would get to become a Healer. I'd get to study something that would, one day, help me keep people from feeling the same sort of pain I did when I lost my mother."

"Surely it could not have been so easy," Percy replied, his voice soft and inquiring. "What did you think about the risks?"

"Hmm." Archie sighed. "I knew about the risks, and Harry knew about the risks. To us, they were worth it. I wanted to be a Healer, and I still do – Healing is what I was intended to do, and AIM is where I belong. Harry is a Potions prodigy, and Master Snape is the best Potions Master now living. If anyone deserves to apprentice under Master Snape, it is Harry Potter. We were also only eleven at the time, and with Uncle James' work as an Auror, we thought we knew what the risks were better than most."

"How did you do it?"

"That very first year, we just took Polyjuice to fool our parents the night before we went to school, and we let it wear off when we were actually at school. We had our hair cut the same, and we did, then, look very similar. We were often mistaken for actual twins when we were in Diagon Alley, or at least blood siblings." Archie smiled – life would have been much easier had they both been pureblood siblings, but he didn't know if it would have been worth it. He met Hermione's eyes in the courtroom, and she tilted her head at him, encouraging. "In later years, Harry found a spell to blend our appearances, and she worked out a variation of Polyjuice to make it last for a year or so at a time. After I turned thirteen, I discovered that I was a Metamorphmagus, so I stopped taking the Polyjuice, but Harry kept with it."

"Can you tell us more about the blending spell, or the Polyjuice variant?"

Archie shook his head, reaching for the pitcher of water. "The blending spell was something runic, but I don't know it – I don't take Runes. I also don't know anything about the Polyjuice variant, that was one of Harry's innovations, I think."

There was a pause, as Percy looked over his notes. Archie ran through what he had said – he didn't think he had said anything terrible. He couldn't be sure, but he had to trust Percy to go back over it if there was a problem.

"So, you went to the American Institute of Magic. Can you tell us about that?" Percy had decided to move on, so Archie let out a breath and followed him on.

"How do I describe a whole other culture?" Archie smiled again. "Especially here, in Wizarding Britain, where so few people have any context for what I'm about to say? I love the American Institute of Magic – like I said, AIM is where I belong. There's Healing, I went for the Healing program, but I discovered so much more."

This was hard – this was the conversation he had never managed to have with Harry, one where he had to somehow, magically, describe things in the No-Maj world that he loved, that would be so far out of her understanding here that she wouldn't be able to picture it, not really. And now, ironically, he would have to do this for the world, for mages who were far more sheltered than Harry, who didn't care for him and wouldn't want to listen. He looked at Hermione, and her gaze was steady, strong.

"I think one of the biggest differences between Wizarding America and Wizarding Britain is the amount of integration Wizarding America has with its No-Maj – Muggle – neighbours," he started slowly, trying to think through how to describe it. "Mages – witches and wizards – in America often have the same hobbies, the same interests as Muggles, they are a part of Muggle society as much as they are of Wizarding society. They see the same movies, they read the same books, they cheer on the same sports teams, they often even share the same faith as their Muggle neighbours and go to church or temple or mosque together. At AIM, children from magical families are required to take three years of Muggle Studies to ensure that they can blend into Muggle society as well as wizarding society, so I was introduced to some of my favourite things in the world: movies, theatre, acting. Science, and science fiction. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic – that's Arthur C. Clarke, a Muggle science fiction writer. Muggles have been to the moon, did you know? The video recording of that first moonwalk – that was amazing to me. Mages still haven't been to the moon.

"That creates a whole different atmosphere, for Wizarding America. Wizarding America looks forward, I think is the best way to put it. There is a strong emphasis on innovation, on pushing boundaries, on trying new things, there's a blending of No-Maj and magical things that's completely unlike here." Archie paused, thinking of an example, an easy one. "For example, sweatshirts with integrated Warming Charms – Muggles came up with a type of fabric called fleece, it's made from a kind of polyester, which is like… oh, gods. I don't know how to describe polyester. It doesn't really matter, but fleece is a Muggle fabric that is really light and warm, with some water-wicking ability so it holds up in light rain, too. It takes well to Warming Charms, so American mages often integrate one into the fabric itself. Since it's integrated, you don't need to know how to cast a Warming Charm at all, you just have to touch a marked corner of the sweatshirt and channel your magic at it and it activates. A lot of things in Wizarding America are like that, a blend of both Muggle and magical traditions, and it permeates everything – it's in the clothing, it's in their culture, it's in how they view the world."

He stopped, because he knew what the SOW Party would be saying to that – he knew how that would be spun, as the destruction of wizarding culture by the Muggle one. He had to deal with that, but delicately, without offending anyone. "It isn't that the Muggle culture has taken over the wizarding one, or that American mages have lost their sense of identity. It's that the culture has grown with it, a living tree instead of frozen earth, as people took the best things from No-Maj culture and blended it with what they already had. There is still a very strong American magical culture, but they have taken from Muggle culture all the things they admired and loved most, and American mages enjoy the best of both worlds. They can jump between Wizarding New York, in the Ramble of Central Park, to Broadway in a matter of minutes.

"AIM is very much part of that tradition," Archie continued, bringing it back to the original question. "There are a lot of clubs and activities at AIM that aren't at Hogwarts. Not just Quidditch teams, but Quodpot and Duelling, magical dance. Theatre. I joined the theatre company, where we put on performances by, mainly, No-Maj writers. Shakespeare, Arthur Miller, Rodger and Hammerstein's South Pacific. Les Misérables. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

He laughed, a little embarrassed. "I often felt guilty – I had left Wizarding Britain, to find a whole new world, and Harry was left behind. While I went out to watch movies, while I learned to act on a stage, while I read fantasy and science fiction books, and while I dreamed about travelling in outer space, in my place she had to deal with the Sleeping Sickness, then a basilisk, then she was attacked in her third year. She got to apprentice under Master Snape, but to me, that never seemed like a fair trade."

Percy nodded, and Archie guessed that it had been a good answer, even if it was a little incomprehensible, and he supposed the Daily Prophet was always going to take it out of context, anyway. "And how did Harry do, at Hogwarts?"

"I don't think anyone can deny that Harry has done amazing things at Hogwarts," Archie replied immediately, frowning a little as he remembered Nott and Greengrass. "She cured the Sleeping Sickness, and she killed the basilisk Petrifying students at the school in her second year. She survived being attacked by a professor in her third year. She's powerful, and she did Hogwarts credit in the Triwizard Tournament. People admired all these things about her when she carried my name and when people believed that she was a pureblood – why does the revelation that she was a halfblood all along change things? It shouldn't, because these are still her accomplishments."

He paused, looking directly at the rows of reporters. This was a bit of gamble, but he wanted to say it, and he didn't feel like it was going too far. And he was angry, so he let it out, in as controlled a manner as he could make it. "I am not Harry Potter. I am very little like Harry Potter. Had I been at Hogwarts, I probably would have fallen ill. There would have been no cure for the Sleeping Sickness, not from me. Draco Malfoy would have died, because I would not have saved him – I would not have been able to save him. In second year, the basilisk would have continued terrorizing the school, and your children would have kept being Petrified. I am not a Parselmouth, as Harry is, and I would not have been able to go into the Chamber of Secrets. Had I gone into the Chamber of Secrets as she did, I would have died. Had I been attacked by Peter Pettigrew as she was, I would have died. I would not have played for Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament – at most, I would have been in a Healer's position, like I was for AIM. The fact that Harry went to Hogwarts has been a boon to Hogwarts and to their students, not a detriment or a danger, and that is the pure and unadulterated truth."

Maybe he went a little far. Percy looked down, signalling him to stop, and Archie shut up. He glanced over at Hermione, but her expression was almost admiring, so it couldn't have been that bad.

"It is almost five," Justice remarked, almost the only thing she had said all day. That was good – Archie hadn't tripped her lie identification powers, but then, everything he had said that day had been true. "My Chosen needs sustenance, and then sleep. Mr. Weasley, please finish this train of questioning, and we'll adjourn for the evening."

Percy looked over his notes, his plans, and shook his head. "Actually, this will be a fine time to stop for the evening, Madam Justice."

"Very well." Justice stood, and with a flick of her wrist, her sword, which had been her constant companion over the past week and a half, disappeared. "Court is adjourned until ten in the morning tomorrow."

That evening, Archie was exhausted. Hermione took care of his back the minute they crossed the wards of Grimmauld Place, since he had forgotten about it. As promised, John and Chess had huge, tinfoil platters of rice with souvlaki and gyros, a second platter of moussaka that just melted in his mouth, containers that had extra tzatziki sauce. It smelled fantastic, and Archie wished he could eat more of it, more of the buttery, rich rice, the creamy eggplant, the tender lamb and chicken, but he was so tired. Giving evidence was emotionally exhausting.

"Archie's doing very well," Hermione said quietly, over her own plate of gyros, at the end of her evening analysis. "At least, I think so. There's a weak point on the ruse – I don't think we can get around that Archie didn't need to do the ruse, or that there's an inherent selfish element to it."

"So, he owns up to it," John replied, shaking his head. Archie knew that John came from a prominent American wizarding family (one couldn't be friends with John without knowing that), but occasionally that came with aspects he hadn't expected. John had experience with the media, and he sometimes knew better strategies for dealing with it than Archie did. "Front it with his age at the time of the ruse. Don't weasel out of it."

Hermione hesitated, then she sighed. "That is probably the best strategy, yes," she agreed. "Archie?"

"Mmhmm," he said, drifting off over his second plate of moussaka, and it wasn't long before Dad sent him off to bed.

The next day, he was back in the witness box, and the room was only slightly more crowded than it had been the day before. The reports in the Daily Prophet had, predictably, focused on Archie being a Muggle-lover, which… well, Archie didn't disagree. They found some sort of sick fascination in the fact that Archie loved Muggle culture, but it was obvious as anything that the reporter on it had no idea what the things Archie had mentioned were. The Prophet's complete and total warping of science fiction, apparently the only thing that the reporter had had time to look up, had been unintentionally entertaining – they had sniffed and called it Muggles dreaming of the impossible, but Archie quite thought that was a good thing. As Clarke said, the only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

"Going back to your experiences at AIM," Percy began, "can you tell us about how blood-status is perceived at AIM?"

Ah, right, Archie remembered. He had forgotten to go through blood-status at AIM yesterday, probably because it wasn't really something that ever came up there. "Blood-status isn't really a factor at AIM, and when I say that, I mean that it simply doesn't come up very often. I did know who the newbloods – Muggleborns – were because they were exempt from our mandatory No-Maj Studies classes, but otherwise I generally just didn't know the blood-status of my other classmates. For example, I only found out, late in my fourth-year, that my friend Neal Queenscove is a pureblood, descended from two very old wizarding families. It just isn't something that matters most of the time, so no one mentions it."

"Most of the time, you said," Percy repeated. "Can you elaborate? When is it relevant?"

"When it affects their magic, I suppose," Archie replied slowly, gearing up to explain Exceptionals and the Exceptionals program. He and Percy had decided that having Archie testify about the Exceptionals program would be a net gain to their case, since it acknowledged that Muggleborns and halfbloods could have different magic. Acknowledging the academic consensus, Percy thought, would make their case more credible overall. However, Archie also had to be careful – both to tell the truth, but also to emphasize that the differences meant little.

"At AIM," he said, choosing his words carefully, "there is a program for people with exceptional magic. That can mean almost anything; a lot of very powerful students end up in the program, or anyone else with an unusual gift. For example, I have a friend in the program because she never bonded with a wand, because her ideal wand is cherrywood and kraken's blood and no one's seen a kraken for a thousand years. I have another friend in the program because her magic is uncooperative with formed spells, so she works a lot with raw magic, and she's an extremely gifted Healer. Some people, too, go in and out of the program when serious mental health issues like depression or anxiety arise, which can interfere with their magic."

He let out a sigh. He had fronted his answer with the program in general, because it really wasn't a program that was only for newbloods and halfbloods. He thought Harry would have ended up in the program, with her issues with magic, at least for a short time in first year while they worked out her wand issue, then maybe another year when she was struggling with her suppressor. But the fact was that the program was disproportionately newbloods, who also had the weirdest issues. "About half of the people in the Exceptionals program are Muggleborns. Both of my friends in the program are Muggleborn. People in the Exceptionals program are assigned a mentor and given help to work with their magic, and if necessary, they are given accommodations – my friend who doesn't have a wand is allowed to use paper charms in class instead of a wand."

Percy nodded, signalling that the answer had been a good one, though Archie suspected he would be facing questions about this in cross-examination. He had to be ready for that, but he hoped he had softened the blow – and added to the credibility of their case.

"You mentioned a few of your friends," Percy said, redirecting him. "Can you tell us more about them?"

Archie felt himself light up – he loved his friends. His friends were the best! "Of course! My closest friends at AIM are Hermione Granger, Francesca Lam, and John Kowalski, but I also get along well with a lot of other people. I'm friendly with a few upper-years, Neal Queenscove and Daine Sarrasri, and with some of John's friends from Duelling, like Kel Mindelan, Merric Hollyrose, Seaver Tasride. And Faleron King and Owen Jesslaw, too. And in theatre, I have friends: Evin Larse, Zahir ibn Alhaz, Thea McKinnon, and Heather Taylor."

Percy held up his hand, stopping him, but he had a slight smile on his face. "What are their blood statuses?"

Oh, right. Archie deflated a little – the point, for this trial, was blood status. "Hermione and Francesca are newbloods – Muggleborns, I mean. John is a halfblood, Neal a pureblood, and Daine is a newblood too. The rest of my friends, I haven't a clue. It's never come up."

Percy nodded. "Have you ever felt at risk, ever, by either Harry or your other halfblood and Muggleborn friends?"

"Never," Archie said, his response immediate. "Never, ever, and if anything, I think AIM has fewer supervisions and controls than Hogwarts does. We have class monitors, but no prefects, and our professors try to stay as uninvolved as they can. And, objectively, my four years at AIM have been a great deal safer than the past four years have been at Hogwarts."

Percy nodded again, reaching quickly in his pocket for his pocket watch, but Archie knew it couldn't be lunch, yet. Even by the bizarre acceleration of court time, he hadn't answered enough questions, he didn't think. He had only had one glass of water so far today, from the pitcher helpfully supplied at the witness box. Percy cleared his throat and continued, a slightly apologetic look on his face. "Have you been harmed by the blood discrimination laws in any other way?"

"Yes," Archie replied, understanding. This was the last segment of his testimony, but it was a longer one, and it was unlikely they would break for lunch until he was done. That meant a later break, maybe not for hours yet.

He took a deep breath, looking down. If the prosecution wanted to make it out that halfbloods and Muggleborns harmed people, Archie would throw out that the laws had hurt him, too. Even Dad had agreed, albeit reluctantly, once Archie told him what he was planning, but he didn't want to look at Dad when he said it. For Dad, the knowledge was still too raw.

"I said yesterday that my mother passed away in 1989, and that it was the most defining thing in my life before I started school. When she passed away, we didn't know what her illness was – it's in the records as not yet diagnosed." Archie's voice was quiet, slow – loud enough, he hoped, that people would still hear him, but serious. "I also said that my secondary area of concentration at AIM was No-Maj Medicine. When I was in my third year, I learned about certain auto-immune conditions for which No-Maj medicine is more effective, because they are comparatively rare in witches and wizards. One of those conditions is called multiple sclerosis."

He looked up, letting himself speak as a Healer instead of as a son, as Healer Black and not Arcturus Rigel Black. "In general, mages do not develop auto-immune disorders because the protective effects of magic are thought to prevent the body from turning in on itself. This is an area of Healing that is still developing, since the conditions are rare among mages, so it is not yet understood what the protective factors are, or how they might fail, or how to use magic in treatment either before or after the condition develops. Even in the No-Maj world, auto-immune disorders are still being studied, and there is generally no cure when the body turns on itself.

"When magic becomes involved, everything becomes more complicated because of the usual way that magic acts in the immunological response. Currently, if a mage develops an auto-immune disorder such as multiple sclerosis, the best treatments are still No-Maj pharmaceuticals, not magical." He laughed, a surprisingly bitter sound.

"I read the about multiple sclerosis, and I thought the symptoms sounded familiar – too familiar. Multiple sclerosis acts in episodes of neurological weakness, caused by lesions forming in the brain stem, which can occur more often in warm weather. This is called Ulthoff's phenomenon. Mum had that – she had all the classic symptoms, so in my third year, I went through her old medical records. I snuck them with me to AIM and I had a friend specializing in complex care review them with me."

He glossed over the actual obtaining the records part of the narrative. It wasn't relevant, and he hoped by simply saying he went through them, as if obtaining them hadn't been an issue at all, no one would ask him about it. "We found, in the diagnostic imaging reports, the lesions that define multiple sclerosis."

He stopped, taking the time to pour himself a glass of water. He sipped at it, slowly finishing half a glass before he continued. "In the No-Maj world, multiple sclerosis is common enough and well enough understood that, even if there is no cure, the treatments that exist, which are meant to promote healing after an episode and prevent further episodes, are effective enough that, once diagnosed, a person lives on average thirty years from diagnosis. In the Wizarding world, because the condition is rarer and takes longer to be diagnosed and for treatment to start, the average is about ten years. However, the Wizarding number is misleading, somewhat lower because of the number of mages who aren't diagnosed quickly enough, or who refuse treatment out of a mistrust of No-Maj medicine; they pass away from the illness much earlier. If diagnosed and treated, mages with the condition can survive for many years."

"But that," he said, and his voice became deeper, stronger, angrier. "That requires a certain amount of integration with the Muggle world, which we simply don't have anymore in Britain. My mum was not diagnosed. She was not treated. And she, like so many others, died in two and a half years. She didn't need to."

He fell silent for a minute, collecting more thoughts. Just as Percy opened his mouth, he continued. "That is the worst way, I think, that the discrimination laws have hurt me – they created a world that isolated us from our Muggle neighbours, where we cannot benefit from their advances in medicine, in science, in technology. That bleeds over into everything – the isolation of our world hurts all of us, and it's just a matter of how much you know you are being hurt. For many, maybe its only the book, the movie, the sport they would have loved if only they knew about it. For others, it's the friends they would have made, that they didn't because now, they never met them. For still others, maybe it's the love of their life – the one they never met, the one that won't come home to Britain because they won't live like a second-class citizen, the one that died of a treatable, No-Maj illness. We don't know what we miss, when we block a part of the world away."

Percy seemed like he was about to stop him, redirect him, but Archie plowed ahead. "More directly, of course, there's the obvious – the blood discrimination laws took my sister away. I don't know where she is, and she can't come home, because we were put in a world where her brilliance was only something that could shine if she was something she wasn't. I gave her that chance, but even if we'll all benefit from the discoveries she'll make, she's still gone. She's gone, and she can't come home."

There was a long moment of silence, and Percy's head was down, reviewing his notes. Archie poured himself his second glass of water, draining it almost as quickly as he had poured it, his gulps loud in the silence. What time was it? It had to be noon or later, by now.

"Those are all my questions, Your Honour," Percy said finally, setting down his pen. He pulled out his pocketwatch. "It is nearly one in the afternoon. Might I suggest we break before cross-examinations?"

Justice nodded, her expression cool and impassive. "Court is recessed until two in the afternoon."

Out on the steps of the courthouse, Archie took a deep breath. He hadn't cried – not that he hadn't wanted to, but he had to be genuine, and the mix of anger and sadness he had felt, more anger than sadness, was not a recipe for tears. Hermione sat down close beside him, pulling out his lunch from her bag, and he couldn't help but inch a little closer to her, to her warmth.

"Here," she said, passing him the plastic container of rice with leftover souvlaki and gyros. There was a generous dollop of tzatziki sauce in one corner, and Dad handed him a fork. "Eat."

"How was I?" He tried for a smile, but it fell flat. He was already tired, his nerves strung out, and the afternoon would probably be even worse. Percy hadn't been kind in cross-examinations, and he didn't think Clearwater would be, either.

"You were fine, Archie." Hermione nudged him with her shoulder. "I think you should expect a lot of questions from today, though – they're going to say it was speculative, that we couldn't really know. Remember, whatever she says, don't get angry."

"Don't get upset, either – stay calm, as much as you can," Dad added, on his other side. "Just answer the questions, as short and simple as you can."

"And admit the things that are obvious – don't fight an obvious conclusion." Uncle Remus' voice was quiet, serious. "It'll make you look less credible if you avoid an answer that seems really clear. Make sure your answers are clear, but don't argue with the prosecutor."

"Yeah," Archie replied, with a weak sort of grin, as he dug into his lunch. It was still delicious, even cold. "Thanks, everyone."

The advice was easier to hear than it was to follow. As bad as Archie had expected cross-examination to be, it was worse. It was a thousand times worse, and he had to fight to keep his voice even, keep his anger from showing at any given time. Thank the gods he had taken theatre – the experience made him all that much better at hiding his feelings and answering in a calm, collected, even voice.

Clearwater attacked Harry and the ruse, first. He knew this part was coming – she picked up immediately that Harry was the one to propose the ruse, and no matter how Archie tried to soften that, he couldn't lie. It was true that Harry was the one who proposed it, and it was Archie who had dived in, headfirst. There was only so much the latter could make up for the former, especially when Clearwater asked him, from about six different angles, whether Archie would have thought of the ruse, or gone ahead with it, without Harry.

The answer was no. The answer was always no – he would have thought of it, but he couldn't have done it without her. But he knew the Prophet could use his testimony to blame Harry for the ruse, for the scandal, and he didn't know how many times he could emphasize that he had been an equal partner in it.

Just as Hermione had predicted, Clearwater hit hard on how needless the ruse was, and Archie had no choice but to admit those points. Yes, Archie could have become a Healer without going to AIM. Yes, Hogwarts did have a small Healing program and offered a Healing OWL, even if they didn't offer a Healing NEWT. Yes, AIM had a Potions Mastery program. Yes, Harry could have graduated from AIM with a Potions Mastery. No, there was no guarantee that Harry would have gotten her Potions Mastery before the end of her seventh year, and indeed, because she was now a fugitive, she would not likely have her Mastery before the end of her seventh year now. Yes, they could both have achieved their dreams without breaking the law.

They were eleven at the time, Archie repeated, in response to more than half the questions. They had started the ruse when they were eleven, and even by the time they were twelve, there was no going back. Yes, they had contemplated switching back, but never seriously – their friends and teachers knew them now and the risk of being caught or of involving others in their lies was simply too great. No, they had never tried to switch back.

But given the opportunity to switch back, no, they wouldn't have taken it. That was a hit that scored.

Then Clearwater headed into Wizarding American culture and the Exceptionals program, and Archie started gritting his teeth between questions as they got more and more offensive. Yes, Muggle culture in America had influenced wizarding culture. No, he didn't think that meant that wizarding culture had been destroyed, it had only grown to become something new. Yes, he supposed that meant that the wizarding culture that existed before was gone, but it had developed into something else. He invoked the living tree comparison again, but he didn't think it made a difference, and he knew that the Daily Prophet would be writing, that night and the next day, that Archie didn't care about preserving Wizarding culture.

The questions on the Exceptionals program were even worse. Archie admitted, upfront, that newblood and halfblood magic was wild, and that the program did have a disproportionately high number of newbloods, but he also noted that for every newblood in the program, there were many who weren't. He noted, too, that there were people who weren't newbloods in the program, because there could be problems with magic when someone came down with, for example, depression or an anxiety disorder. He didn't know whether any of those people were purebloods, but he found it unlikely that there were no purebloods in the program. No, he didn't think that newbloods and halfbloods should be educated separately. The people in his school in accommodated programs did very well, and he was proud to know them and go to school with them. No, he didn't think that people who had different magic should be educated separately.

He had a minor outburst at that, losing his cool for a minute and talking about Brown v Board of Education and how separate but equal did not work, but he didn't think that went anywhere. Then he had to answer a bunch of questions about racial segregation in No-Maj America in the middle of the century, which was not helpful for his case, since it was a darker chapter in American No-Maj history, but he hoped he had saved it by talking about the civil rights movement too. He wasn't sure – it was a bit off topic, but hopefully he had staved off the inevitable argument that No-Maj culture was terrible and should come nowhere near wizarding culture. Because blood discrimination was so much better, he groused internally.

The only good thing about his outburst was that derailing the questioning made it take longer, and Clearwater didn't finish her cross-examination before they finished for the day. Archie was silently grateful for that, if only because it would allow him to collect himself and regain his cool for the next day of cross-examination, which promised to be even worse.

Chess and John had come up with ramen that night – huge, steaming bowls of ramen with chewy noodles and warm, rich, meaty broth, pickled vegetables, fatty pork belly, a soft-boiled egg and a pat of butter on top. It was delicious, and for once there were no leftovers.

The next day, Archie fielded questions about Mum, and it was just as Hermione had said. Clearwater attacked the diagnosis, the results, as speculative. No, Archie was not yet a Healer. No, no one who had looked at the records were fully accredited Healers. Yes, Archie was reasonably certain of his conclusions, but he would acknowledge that since his mother had passed away, he could never know for certain. The records that existed still spoke for themselves. Yes, even assuming that Archie's conclusions were correct, he didn't know how she would have responded to treatment. Yes, if she had been diagnosed, it was possible that she still would not have responded to treatment and she would still have passed away – but it was a chance that she, and Archie, and Dad, never got to have.

Yes, he would acknowledge that paths not taken would, in some ways, always lead to a loss. He didn't have the friends he would have made had he gone to Hogwarts, either. The difference was, Archie said, that he had chosen to go to AIM – the laws that he had issue with prevented halfbloods and newbloods from making the choices they would have made, all other things being equal, and that was what really led to what he saw as the loss. It was about the freedom to decide, self-determination, that was being taken away.

Yes, he would acknowledge that Harry was gone mainly because of the laws that he and Harry had broken. Harry could have obeyed the laws, and nothing would have prevented her from returning to home, living in Britain. She might even have made the same discoveries, having gone to AIM, even if she went by them differently or came by them later. The main reason why she couldn't come home was the fact that she had broken the law, and Archie couldn't argue with that. Towards the end, he was falling apart, and he knew it and couldn't seem to stop it.

"You'd agree, wouldn't you, that most of the harm you claim to have suffered is because you chose to break the law instead of following it, isn't that right?" Clearwater asked, her voice pointed.

"The laws are wrong," Archie snapped, grey eyes flashing. "The laws are needless and harm everyone."

"Do you agree that the laws, in fact, protect wizarding culture, and wizards, from the influence of Muggles?"

"I don't think wizarding culture is something so weak that it needs protection, and I think the laws make wizarding culture weaker by freezing it instead of letting it grow, changing with the times."

The only good thing about those questions were that they marked the end of his cross-examination, and Archie was finally let go, after two and a half days on the stand. He felt awful. He replayed his last few answers in his head, over and over on repeat, feeling like a failure. All he had to do was keep calm, keep collected and put the best case forward, and he didn't do it. He had gotten angry, and defensive, and he had lost his cool, and he didn't know how his argumentative answers were going to help at all. He had no idea what he was supposed to say in reply, how he was supposed to highlight the injustice of the laws when he had broken them, how he could make the world understand.

"It's fine," Hermione said, reassuring, passing him his lunch – a motley mix of leftovers, today. More Cantonese fried rice, a few pieces of souvlaki, a couple puffs of pao de queijo. Completely random, a variety that made no sense. "It's over."

"I think you did fine, Arch," Dad said, putting one arm around him. "Cross-examination makes everyone look terrible."

Archie nodded, chewing on a piece of meat. He didn't know if he believed them, but at least it was over.

That afternoon, Percy called Lord Dumbledore to the stand, to testify about Hogwarts itself.

"Hogwarts was founded in 966 for the education of young witches and wizards throughout the British Isles," the elderly wizard said, his voice calm and collected. His blue eyes seemed to be smiling as he glanced at Archie. "Until the sixteenth century, of course, witches and wizards were not hidden from their Muggle neighbours, so blood status was unimportant. One either had magic or not, and if a child had magic, his or her parents would inevitably consider enrolling them in school. In those early centuries, many parents, especially wizarding parents, chose to homeschool their children rather than sending them to Hogwarts. I would say that, in those years, Hogwarts had more of what we now call Muggleborns and halfbloods. Hogwarts has always been a wand-casting school, you see, and many wizarding parents wanted to ensure the continuation of their traditional casting methods, and did not send their children to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore paused. "Things changed, of course, as our society changed. First, of course, there were the prohibitions against traditional casting methods in the thirteenth century, meant to suppress the Welsh uprisings. As part of those policies, schooling at Hogwarts became mandatory for all witches and wizards in the country. The intention was to force all witches and wizards to wand use, integrating the most rebellious populations into the mainstream. More than six centuries on, this seems to have been quite effective."

His blue eyes twinkled, and Archie suppressed a small laugh. The words were said so mildly that they could have meant anything, but Archie knew as well as Dumbledore no doubt did that those traditional magical practices were still alive, many centuries on. Saiorse was a traditional caster, and Ilvermorny had demolished their pool with her at the helm.

"The next major change was, of course, the institution of the Statute of Secrecy," Dumbledore continued. "Witches and wizards had been withdrawing from Muggle society throughout the seventeenth century, so in some respects, the Statute of Secrecy was only the conclusion to a long process of withdrawal which had begun much earlier. It was around this time that blood status, between purebloods, halfbloods, and Muggleborns started being a defining feature. Muggleborns now needed to be introduced to the wizarding world, whereas halfbloods and purebloods generally did not."

"And when did the prohibitions against Muggleborns and halfbloods come into place?" Percy asked, though the entire room, save Justice, already knew the answer.

"1952 for Muggleborns, and 1981 for halfbloods," Dumbledore answered promptly. "The last class in which halfbloods attended Hogwarts was the class of 1987; for Muggleborns, they were the class of 1959."

"Would you remind me of when you begin teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Teaching?" Dumbledore chuckled. "My entire career has been teaching, my dear Mr. Weasley. I joined the staff at Hogwarts in the year 1919, soon after the first Muggle World War."

"And throughout your tenure, what differences have you noticed, as the student body became progressively more pureblooded?"

"Differences?" Dumbledore paused to think, though Archie thought he knew the answer before Dumbledore replied. "Very little. Our students remain as capable as they ever were, and the curriculum is largely unchanged over many decades. I do believe that many modern schools today criticize our pedagogical methods, particularly the lack of specialty and mastery programs, but Hogwarts, and its students, remains one of the strongest examples of the strengths of a broad, wide-ranging, neoclassical education."

"Have you noticed any changes in the number of accidents, trips to the Hospital Wing, or the dangers posed to students since the institution of the prohibitions?"

"Since the prohibitions?" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, amused. "I would say the last few years have been exceptionally dangerous for students. First, with the Sleeping Sickness, nearly all of our children between the ages of ten and thirteen fell ill, many of them for months; the next year, we had a half-dozen petrifactions. We never had a professor attempt to take life of a student until 1994, and certainly the Triwizard Tournament was a great deal more dangerous than we had anticipated.

"However, even excepting the dangerous spate of years we appear to be in, I would say that there has been little to no change in the number of dangers or incidents that we have had. Throughout the 1980s, we had the continuing trials of the Cursed Vaults, which, while by no means as serious as these last few years, still led to injury among the students." Dumbledore paused, and frowned slightly. "Indeed, we seem to have been quite unfortunate… Certainly, I have not heard of any other school with a similar spate of difficulties."

Lord Dumbledore's testimony was brief – Percy had only called him to talk about the history of the school and to emphasize that there had been no change in dangers or incidents since Muggleborns and halfbloods had been banned from the school. He noted that Hogwarts, like all schools, kept extensive records, Healing and otherwise, about the numbers of injuries students sustained in any given year. The worst year, by far, was the year with the Sleeping Sickness; aside from that, there were a few years in late 1980s, before Harry had started at Hogwarts, that were particularly bad.

In cross-examination, Clearwater attacked his political position, but Lord Dumbledore acknowledged that he was indeed the de facto leader of the Light and stated that, his personal views aside, the school records stood on their own and showed that there had been no demonstrable change in the number of incidents over the years. Clearwater didn't seem to be able to push Lord Dumbledore into making any other admissions, and Archie left that day feeling slightly better about his case. As badly as he might have done in cross-examination, Lord Dumbledore had done well, and they still had their own, opposing, magical theorist to go.

John and Chess had gone with seafood, that night. There was a clam chowder that sat heavily in Archie's stomach, a bucket of mussels with little bowls of melted butter, a whole crab that Archie had to struggle to touch because the creature looked terrifying, flipped upside down on the table, long legs reaching to the ceiling, split in half, black eyes staring.

"No, I don't think I can do it," he said eventually, on his fourth attempt to break off a leg of the crab. He kept reaching for it, flinching, and pulling his hand away. "It's – it's a weird, bizarre space creature and it's going to come back to life and claw my eyes out in my sleep. All its compatriots are going to seek revenge for it. I don't know. I can't touch it."

"Oh, for goodness' sake." Hermione rolled her eyes, broke off a third of a leg, and handed it to him. "It's a crab. Just eat it, it's delicious."

"John and I ate all of its compatriots already anyway," Chess added, breaking apart another leg and sucking out the meat with expert efficiency. She couldn't eat ice mice or chocolate frogs, but apparently a crab posed no problems. She was officially weird, or weirder than she already was. Archie looked back at the crab, overflowing the plate on the table, and shuddered.

The next day, Percy called Professor Phillip Newman to the stand – a Master of Magical Theory, former Curse-breaker, and current Professor of both Magical Theory and Curse-breaking at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Newman had brown hair, threaded with grey, and crafty hazel eyes. Archie didn't quite know what to make of him. He had never met him, but Percy assured him that he would stand up well against Master Albright.

Professor Newman had received his Mastery in Magical Theory many years ago and had gone on to work for about two decades as a Curse-breaker for Gringotts Bank, travelling around the world. After that, he worked as a consultant, specializing in magical theory and Curse-breaking. He had joined the Hogwarts staff in the mid-1980s, around the time the Cursed Vaults had first opened, then had stayed at Hogwarts because he enjoyed teaching. Very few students at Hogwarts took either Magical Theory or Curse-breaking, so he still took on consulting work through his old firm in France, though nowadays his fieldwork was limited.

He had not published as often as Master Albright had, only very few papers at the interface of Curse-breaking and Magical Theory. As far as Archie was concerned, Master Albright had been no different – all of Master Albright's papers had been in the interface of Magical Theory and Alchemy. Still, that didn't stop Clearwater from challenging Professor Newman's credentials, but she was thankfully unsuccessful. Professor Newman's extensive practical field experience more than made up for his lack of academic publications, Justice ruled.

His testimony was, remarkably, quite a lot like Master Albright's – except for where it wasn't. Like Master Albright, he agreed that Muggleborns and halfbloods had different magic than purebloods. Like Master Albright, he even called it wild magic. Like Master Albright, he acknowledged that the wildness of a halfblood or Muggleborn's magic tended to be ironed out over successive generations, and he even referred to Archibald's Theory of Increasing Organization.

Unlike Master Albright, he saw wild magic as an advantage. Many Muggleborns and halfbloods had powers that purebloods didn't, which both led to the beauty of magical theory as a field, and had often proven useful in the field. Some magical gifts could only occur in halfbloods or Muggleborns – most Natural Legilimens and Empaths, for example, had recent Muggle or Muggleborn ancestry, and of course no pureblood Truth-Speaker had ever been identified. Archie chanced a glance at Justice at that comment; she had a tiny smile, which disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. The misconception that Muggleborns didn't have gifts was only that, a misconception, because a lot of the gifts that Muggleborns did have were too individualized and didn't have a name. As a Curse-breaker and a consultant, Professor Newman had known many witches and wizards who had powers that didn't have names yet, including someone that Archie thought was a lot like Daine, who had difficulty with formed spells but could circumvent a lot of known spells. Certain core types, too, were far more common in Muggleborn and halfblood witches and wizards – purebloods tended to fall into one of the four main elements, of fire, water, air or earth, but Muggleborns and halfbloods tended to show variations, blends, or entirely new elements, such as metal, ice, or lightning.

He disagreed that this meant that Muggleborns and halfbloods were more dangerous. To the contrary, as a working Curse-breaker and consultant, he had often taken advantage of the unique powers that many Muggleborns and halfbloods had, and he had never had any doubt or concern about doing so. While their magic was wild, that didn't mean that it was uncontrolled or dangerous – wild was simply the word used by magical theorists to describe it, and it had about as much meaning as grammatical gender. No one actually thought, speaking French, that a fork was male; similarly, wild in the context of magical theory was a quality, but it didn't speak to dangers posed. In his opinion, the blood discrimination laws could not be justified on the grounds of magical theory.

In cross examination, Clearwater focused on Master Albright's point about the risks a society was willing to take, about whether the Wizengamot had the authority to make decisions that it thought best and most protective of the population as a while. Shockingly, Professor Newman only sounded better after the cross-examination. He refused to engage at all with the question of whether the Wizengamot had the authority to make law, saying only that it was outside his area of expertise, and returned, repeatedly, to the simple point that magical wildness was not the same thing as danger. To the extent that laws were legislated on this basis, they were, in his view, responding to a risk that didn't exist.

In desperation, Clearwater tried to find a point of bias, but remarkably, Professor Newman was a pureblood and a former Slytherin. He was Neutral, both politically and magically, though as a non-noble, he was not represented in government and generally took little notice of it. Indeed, Archie thought it sounded like he simply didn't care very much about the blood discrimination laws, since so much of his consultancy work was outside Britain – for him, as a pureblood, it was a rather provincial, British issue that didn't affect him very much.

The most that Clearwater managed to score from him was an acknowledgement that he was paid by Hogwarts, and therefore linked to Lord Dumbledore. Professor Newman, with a perfectly puzzled look, admitted easily that of course he was paid by Hogwarts – he would not have left his, frankly, quite lucrative position as a consultant to become a teacher without being paid for it. Even now, his teaching salary made up just under half of his income, and his consulting work, based out of his old office in France, the rest. His partner, Lina Avery, ran their security analysis firm in Toulouse and he worked from overseas.

Going into closing submissions the next day, Archie was cautiously optimistic. The prosecution's case, Hermione thought, had been a bit of a disaster. Percy had called into question Dawlish's testimony for bias, and most of Harry's fellow students had been either blatantly unhelpful or destroyed in cross-examination. The prosecution had to rest most of their case on their expert witness, Master Albright, and what Percy called a non-justiciability argument, the ability of the Wizengamot to make law based on their own priorities without the interference of the court. The standard rule was, the Wizengamot made the laws, and the courts followed them. Hermione thought this was ridiculous, especially because Justice had already rejected that on the second day.

Percy was less sure. No one, he reminded them, had run a trial before Justice in five centuries. He could only guess at what principles she used to make a decision, and while he had aimed his arguments at as many broad, overarching ideals as possible, he had no idea how Justice would respond. He would do his best, and that was all he could promise.

The morning of closing submissions was wet. Rain poured down in sheets, water running down Diagon Alley in thin rivulets between the cobblestones. There was thunder, in the distance, and Chess had taken one look outside and handed Archie a paper-charm to keep the water off him and his suit.

The courtroom was more crowded than it had been in weeks. Closing submissions normally drew more attention than testimony; Archie spotted Malfoy and Parkinson there, with Lord and Lady Malfoy, as well as Lord Dumbledore, seated beside a stern-faced woman with her hair in a tight bun. Most of the others he didn't recognize, but then, there was no reason he should. He wasn't Harry.

The doors slammed open, and Aldon strode in, looking more like a drowned cat than anything else. He was soaking wet, his clothes sopping and dripping over the courtroom floor, and his hair was a slick disaster. He didn't look like he cared, his face a worrying blank board, and he simply marched, wooden, onto the platform. Again, just like every morning over the last two weeks, the minute he crossed the glowing insignia on the floor, he seemed to come to, and it only took a few waves of his hand for him to dry off, his clothes to change, a golden coronet to appear to push back his dark hair, for the puddles on the floor to disappear. Justice didn't, Archie thought, care much at all about the condition of her Chosen, except to the extent that it affected her.

"Miss Clearwater, Mr. Weasley," she greeted the lawyers, settling into her seat on the top dais. "I understand this is the last day of trial, and we have only your closing submissions to go. Is that correct?"

"That is," Clearwater confirmed, standing at the podium, and Justice inclined her head for the woman to proceed. As Percy had explained to him, the prosecution always went first in closing, so Clearwater was already prepared. "Your Honour, the issue in this trial is whether Mr. Arcturus Rigel Black should be found guilty of the two offences: aiding and abetting in the commission of blood identity theft, and conspiracy to commit blood identity theft, which was in fact successfully committed. Mr. Black does not contest the underlying facts of these charges, being that he did, indeed, trade places with his halfblood cousin, Harriett Euphemia Potter, to allow her to go to Hogwarts."

She glanced down at her notes, a scroll of parchment, for a moment before continuing. "Mr. Weasley, on behalf of Mr. Black, has called into question the justice of the underlying law: blood identity theft. The prosecution submits that this is misguided. First, this is a non-justiciable issue – it is the responsibility of the Wizengamot to make the laws, based on political priorities. It is not the role of the Court to second-guess or change these laws."

Justice had a dark look forming on her face, and Archie knew right away that this argument wasn't going to work. It hadn't worked with Umbridge, and it wouldn't work when Clearwater said it, and he didn't even know why she had tried. Even Percy had an eyebrow raised, but Clearwater blazed ahead, the only sign she had noticed the atmosphere in the courtroom being the quickening of her voice as she rushed to spit out her next sentence.

"However, should this Court find fit to consider this issue, the prosecution submits that the law is fully founded on the facts. You have heard evidence from many sources on the harms posed by Muggleborns and halfbloods to our society; you have heard from Auror Dawlish that the areas of the Lower Alleys with high populations of Muggleborns and halfbloods have higher rates of violent crime than otherwise, and you have heard from Master Albright that Muggleborns and halfbloods have wild magic, which makes them more unpredictable, more dangerous than purebloods, who no longer have the same wildness to their magic. Master Albright has acknowledged that his position is a minority one, but the prosecution submits that, in this case, it still provides the Wizengamot a clear basis on which to legislate. The matter of the level of risk to our society is willing to permit is one fully within the purview of the Wizengamot.

"Without the blood identity theft laws, there is a risk to the people who could be defrauded or harmed." Clearwater paused, taking a moment to pour herself a glass of water and taking a sip. "In this respect, the case of Miss Potter and Mr. Black is demonstrative; in their ruse, many people were harmed. Four of Miss Potter's friends and classmates have testified to the harm they have suffered as a result of her deception, to varying degrees. The Ministry, and the Wizengamot, have an obligation to the witches and wizards to ensure that halfbloods and Muggleborns do not misrepresent themselves to the public, to regulate magic and to protect the public interest.

"Second, and even if the Court does not accept that the law is valid, the prosecution submits that Mr. Black is not in locus standi to challenge the law. Mr. Black has not been charged with blood identity theft – he has only been charged with aiding and abetting and conspiracy to commit blood identity theft. These are different offences and opening the law to permit him to challenge a law that he has not been charged with would violate the well-established doctrine of locus standi. While Mr. Black may be affected by the law, he is a pureblood, and the prosecution submits that there are other, more appropriate persons who may challenge the law – particularly, Miss Potter herself. The justice of the law should be challenged in circumstances providing the best evidence, which necessarily cannot be the case here because Mr. Black is, critically, a pureblood."

She stopped, taking a long drink of water, then took a deep breath. "In conclusion, the Ministry requests that this Court convict Mr. Black of both charges. For sentencing, we submit that, in this case, the loss of his magic would be appropriate. Thank you."

The courtroom behind burst into whispers, a swell of sound. Justice glared, but Archie was taken aback by the Ministry's leniency. Losing his magic? That was nothing! That just meant he would integrate himself in the No-Maj world – Hermione and Dad would help him enroll in a good No-Maj school, he would join Chess at the mythical No-Maj college that she occasionally mentioned, that her parents expected her to attend. He could act – did people study acting in college? Or, no, even better, he would study No-Maj medicine! Even if Daine's pharmacology looked terrifying, he knew he would be up to the task, if he didn't have magic and if that was what he had to do to become a No-Maj doctor.

He would even have his friends, his family, still! Hermione, John, Chess – none of them would care that he couldn't do magic anymore. He didn't think any of his friends would care if he couldn't do magic anymore, and of course Dad wouldn't care. He would just be the equivalent of a Squib. That was nothing – he would still have life, and a life was something that could not be taken back.

"A fate worse than death," he heard someone whisper, several rows behind him, her voice infused with horror, and it was only then that Archie understood.

For Wizarding British mages, the loss of magic was a fate worse than death. It wasn't for Archie because he knew about the No-Maj world – he even loved the No-Maj world. Archie would be Archie in the wizarding world or outside of it, and he would be able to tilt his dreams, become something in either world. His identity wasn't founded on his magic – it was founded on something more, it was founded on his family, his friends, his Mum. It was built on acting and movies and books, with ideals and optimism and love, not with magic. Life as a No-Maj would be different, but it wouldn't be bad.

Swelling excitement was probably not the emotion he should have on the day of closing submissions, he realized belatedly, wiping the grin he had off his face. How could he help it? No one was seeking death, so he felt like a great weight had been lifted off him. He would live. No matter what, he would live.

"Good morning, Your Honour," Percy said, taking his position behind the podium for the defense closings. "The defense agrees on the underlying facts of this case. Mr. Black indeed traded places with his cousin, Miss Potter, to allow her to go to Hogwarts. However, the defense submits that the underlying issue, the offence of blood identity theft, is unjust and should be struck.

"First, critically, blood status is an immutable characteristic. A person cannot choose their own parentage – depending on how blood status is defined, a person is a pureblood, a halfblood, or a Muggleborn. A Muggleborn cannot choose to become a pureblood, and vice versa. This engages fundamental considerations of equality, because under the current regime, a halfblood or a Muggleborn is unequal, and will never be equal, in the eyes of the law."

Percy took a moment, clearing his throat, before he continued. "You have heard expert testimony, both from Master Albright and from Professor Newman, about the nature of Muggleborn and halfblood magic which is said to underpin the law. Both experts agree that Muggleborn and halfbloods have different magic than purebloods, but there is significant contention around whether it is, in fact, more dangerous. The majority consensus, as agreed by both experts, is that most Masters in the field do not consider halfbloods and Muggleborns to be any more dangerous than purebloods; even Master Albright acknowledged that his belief, that halfbloods and Muggleborns are more dangerous, is in the minority. With respect to my friend's assertion that it is within the Wizengamot's rights to legislate based on the risk tolerance of our society, the defense respectively submits that the law is dangerously overbroad and acts to the detriment of not only halfbloods and Muggleborns, whose fundamental personal life choices are being infringed upon, but also purebloods and society as a whole.

"You have heard from Lord Dumbledore, whose career at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry spans just over seventy-five years. Throughout his tenure, he has seen Muggleborns and halfbloods at the school, and has seen these two groups disappear. There has been no change in the number of incidents and, remarkably, many of the most dangerous years for students have occurred recently, when Muggleborns and halfbloods were formally banned from the school. You have heard, too, from Miss Potter's closest friends, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson, that having Miss Potter at school posed them no threat, and in fact saved their lives. You have finally heard from Mr. Black himself, about the impact that these laws have had not only on him, but on Miss Potter and on others in their position.

"With respect to Miss Clearwater's assertion that Mr. Black is not in locus standi in this case, I would note that Mr. Black is directly affected by the law at issue. The only reason he has not been charged with blood identity theft itself is that he is a pureblood and cannot be charged with the offence. This is, on its very face, a discriminatory law that can only affect halfbloods and Muggleborns – and, at that, a halfblood or Muggleborn would need to take inordinate risks to challenge the law. The defense submits that there is no other reasonable and effective way to challenge the law other than through this proceeding here, today, and that to refuse to make a ruling on the basis of locus standi would create a chilling effect where the law could not be challenged.

"In conclusion, the defense submits that the blood identity theft law is discriminatory, dangerously overbroad, and unjust, and seeks that the law be struck. Thank you." Percy bowed slightly, then sat down.

Justice nodded slowly, considering. "Thank you, counsel. I shall reserve my decision until tomorrow. Court is dismissed until ten in the morning."

Archie stood and bowed, along with the rest of the courtroom. It was almost lunch, and he was free for the rest of the day, inasmuch as house arrest could be considered free. He flashed a bright grin at Hermione, standing beside him on the other side of the low, wooden bar, and she shook her head at him with a slight sigh. On his other side, he saw that Justice was leaning down towards Lady Bones, saying something, but he couldn't make it out.

One more day. He breathed a sigh of relief, following Percy as he left the courtroom, and the refrain ran through his head. One more dawn, one more day, one day more. And he would live, whatever may come tomorrow.

XXX

Her boyfriend was insane, Hermione decided. Or an idiot, or – or she didn't know. He had spent the entire afternoon, beaming like a cheerful ray of sunshine, practically rolling around on the floor at Grimmauld Place like the giant dog that sometimes Sirius would turn into to tussle with him on the floor. He bounced around, singing snippets from both Les Misérables and Grease, interrupted one of Francesca's experiments (much to her displeasure), and generally made a delighted nuisance of himself.

"They aren't seeking death, 'Mione," he said, wearing a bright grin. "It'll all be okay!"

"Loss of your magic is not a small thing, Archie," Hermione replied, with a sigh of exasperation. "Wouldn't you miss this? The magic, and Healing, and AIM…"

Archie shrugged. "Sure. But as long as there's life, there's always more. I don't have to have magic to be happy. Are you telling me you would like me any less if I weren't a mage?"

"Well, no," Hermione protested, but she stopped because Archie had thrown his arms around her and planted a kiss on her lips. It was a messy one, but she thought she would forgive him for it – this time. This time inevitably turned into the next, and the one after that, too, but he was so overwhelmingly enthusiastic, like an overeager puppy, that she just gave up. In truth, she rather liked it, even if she didn't think she should.

"I'd still become a Healer. Just a No-Maj one," he said, pulling back, his grey eyes serious. "And that's only if we don't win. Don't worry, 'Mione. I'll be fine."

Hermione smiled, a little helplessly, but let it go. If anyone were able to lose their magic and survive to smile about it, it would be Arcturus Rigel Black, but she suspected it would be much more difficult than he could imagine. Did he even have a No-Maj identity? In any case, the loss of his magic wouldn't hit him, not really, not until all his friends were heading back to AIM, until he was fully trying to integrate himself in the No-Maj world. Celebration, she thought, was premature.

The next morning came, as it always did, and a part of Hermione wanted to find a spell to drag the sun back below the horizon. She wasn't ready for this, she thought, rolling out of bed and putting on her best suit once more. It was only one more day – one last day, one final day, then they could close this door behind them and take their next steps forward. She hated this waiting; she hated not knowing what came next, how to plan for what came next. All she could do was grit her teeth and wait, and she hated waiting. She liked doing.

She Flooed to Diagon Alley, meeting up with Derrick and Isran before going to court. Both of them were in robes – Derrick's were British wizarding, while Isran's were in the American style.

"How is he?" Derrick asked, with little preamble, a worried look on his face. "I know they aren't seeking death, but the loss of magic…"

"You know Arch." Hermione shook her head, heading towards the Wizarding Courts of Law. She expected they would follow her. "I don't know if he really understands what that would be like, but he finds the silver lining in everything. Is anyone else coming?"

"Saoirse from Ireland, but that's it." Isran frowned. "Sean is busy, and Toby's found a contact, or something, I think, said he has a meeting. He sounded odd in our last phone call."

"Should we check on him?" Hermione glanced over at the tall, brown man.

Isran thought for a moment. "It's too early to tell – I'll call him after court."

Hermione nodded, distracted. There were crowds milling about outside the courthouse - she knew it would be busy, but not to this extent. She ducked and wove her way to the front, a discreet Shield Charm helping her force her way through.

Oddly, most people weren't trying to get into the courthouse. There was a podium set up on the steps outside, and most people were only waiting. For the press conference, Hermione realized – whatever happened today, Lord Riddle would need to have a response. He needed to grab the narrative and shape the media response, as fast as possible. Hermione's lips tightened – that was not something she could combat, not directly. Her reports were being leaked, slowly and surely, piecemeal, by word of mouth, slipped papers, seditious pamphlets, but she couldn't get out in front of the narrative, not like this.

Thankfully, the courthouse was emptier, though far more people had shown up to hear the decision than any other trial day except the first one. Derrick and Isran joined Saiorse, neat in an emerald green dress with her honey-blonde hair pinned out of her face, in the row behind Sirius and Remus, while Hermione slid into her customary spot between them. She leaned over the wooden bar, touching Archie on the shoulder.

"Hermione!" Archie's face lit up, though his voice was quiet, calmer than she thought he would have been without an audience. "Did you see? Saoirse came!"

"I saw," Hermione assured him, eye crinkling a little in amusement. "Derrick and Isran too, but Sean and Toby couldn't make it."

"That's all right." Archie shrugged a little, and the bang of the courtroom doors broke into their quiet conversation. It was Aldon, moving mechanically to the dais. Archie took in a deep breath. "Showtime."

A few minutes, and even Hermione could tell that Justice's getup was the most formal it had ever been. The golden coronet on her head was ornate, instead of the simple circlet that she had worn before, and her dress was so white that it glowed, shimmered against the shine of gold. Her sword, too, was bedecked in gold and jewelled, the stone on top glowing with a strong, steady light. Her scales, massive, sat before her, and there were small, gold weights on each side. The scales moved today, tilting rhythmically from one side to another.

She didn't sit.

"Today," she said, facing the courtroom with her hands folded on the hilt of her blade. Hermione privately thought Justice had a flair for the dramatic – or maybe that was one of Aldon's traits, shining through even when possessed. "We stand in wait for a judgement. Arcturus Rigel Black, stand."

Archie stood.

"You have been accused of the crimes of aiding and abetting and conspiracy in the commission of blood identity theft. You do not disagree with the factual underpinnings of your case, but have pled not guilty on the basis that the laws are unjust and ought to be struck. You have summoned me to hear you and judge you accordingly.

"The prosecution submits, first, that the law is non-justiciable and that I cannot strike it. I do not accept this argument. The law is not intended to be used as a blunt instrument of authority, without regard for the grander principles: justice, freedom, respect for others. The law is a stabilizing structure, allowing people to pursue their legitimate claims of harm. Even the criminal law – in years past, when I sat in judgement of criminal acts among the Romans, a criminal charge still needed to be brought by the victim. A law that unfairly burdens an individual for little to no gain is not a law that supports the stability and health of the state.

"I have sat this trial, and I cannot avoid the simple conclusion: this is a crime which has no victim. Arcturus Rigel Black may have traded places with his cousin, but even Harriett Potter's closest friends are unable to list any true harm caused to them. Their feelings aside, having Harriett Potter with them at Hogwarts over the past four years has been an undeniable boon to their health and physical safety."

Hermione wasn't breathing, and her heart was beating erratically. Was this it? Were they, as Archie had always believed, winning? His back was stock still, and she wished she could see his face.

"I do not accept that these laws are justified in light of the theoretical evidence before me. In so saying, I make no assertions on the nature of magic, which is not something that can be argued and determined through law, and I express my strong and explicit disapproval that counsel have attempted such in this trial. However, based on the evidence presented before me, to the extent that the laws are based on a genuine concern that Muggleborns and halfbloods are more dangerous than purebloods, they are grossly disproportionate and overbroad, and cannot be justified. The harms caused by the law to Muggleborns and halfbloods is far greater than any harm to purebloods, and allowing the law to stand would be fundamentally unjust. Had blood identity theft been the charge before me, I would have found no difficulty in striking it down."

Hermione choked, started coughing. She didn't miss the change in tense – no, that was bad, that meant the laws would not be struck. Things were going so well, until that sentence!

"I cannot ignore that Arcturus Rigel Black has not been charged with blood identity theft. Mr. Black is a pureblood and in fact cannot be charged with blood identity theft. He has been charged with aiding and abetting and conspiracy to commit blood identity theft, which is not the same. Locus standi is a critical principle of law: a person may not challenge a law unless they are directly subject to it and to its effects. Without being directly subject to the law, we can only consider its indirect effects, we are unable to consider the impact of the law with the best available evidence. Without a full appreciation of the direct impact of the old law, we are unable to make new, good, law.

"Since Mr. Black is not a direct subject of the law, I must consider three things to determine whether Mr. Black is in locus standi to challenge the law: whether there is a serious issue raised as to the justice of the law, whether Mr. Black has a genuine interest in the law, and whether there is any other way that the issue may be brought to court.

"I have no difficulty in finding that Mr. Black meets the first two branches of the test. However, he does not meet the third. There is at least one, obvious, person who could bring this legal challenge and who could provide further, more fulsome evidence of the impact of the blood discrimination laws: Harriett Potter herself. I understand that Miss Potter has even been charged with blood identity theft, but that she is no longer in the jurisdiction. Having said my remarks in obiter, I see no reason why Miss Potter cannot simply return to the jurisdiction, invoke me, and challenge the blood identity theft law directly. In these circumstances, I cannot find that Arcturus Rigel Black is in locus standi to bring forth a legal challenge to the blood identity theft laws, and I decline to strike the law at this time."

No. That was stupid! Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, a mix of both rage and despair coursing through her. That was a stupid, ridiculous, overly technical basis for refusing to strike the laws now, and Hermione had no delusions about whether Harry Potter would return to do as Archie did. Even if Archie was able to contact her and ask, the fact remained that Harry had been charged with far more than just blood identity theft – that was only a few of the charges in more than a hundred. Not to mention that, based on the little she knew of Archie's fabled cousin, despite Archie's rose-tinted glasses, she questioned whether Harry was the sort of person who would put herself on the line for something like this unless she was forced to it. Just as Archie wasn't Harry, Harry also was not Archie.

"I do, therefore, have to find Mr. Black guilty of the crimes alleged. I do not, however, ignore the fact that had blood identity theft been the charge in front of me, I would have struck it. I take this into account for the purposes of sentencing." Justice slowed down, taking a deep breath, studying Archie closely with her hawk-like yellow eyes. "The prosecution seeks a wholesale loss of magic, and the defense has made no alternate suggestion in the event of a guilty verdict. I will not be taking the whole of Mr. Black's magic. Indeed, I find it most appropriate that, since Mr. Black amply employed his Metamorphmagus ability as part of the ruse, that he sacrifice his gift, and I sentence him accordingly."

The movement was small, a tiny come-hither sort of movement, and Archie staggered, gasping, both hands flat on the counsel table in front of him. He coughed, choking – Percy pounded him on the back a couple times, until a tiny spark, a pinpoint, of blue light came out, floating in the air towards Justice. Hermione swallowed – she was not squeamish, but something about this felt wrong, terribly wrong, and she wanted to vomit herself. She could see that, as the pinpoint of light soared towards the dais, the scales slowed down, stopping when the ball of light hovered over one of the golden plates.

"Judgement is rendered. Court is now dismissed." She said, then she tilted her head up with a small smile, glancing up at the courtroom around her. "Counsel, I thank you for the opportunity. It had been far too long. But do get me one of my female Chosen, next time."

There was a clatter of thunder, a burst of wind from the dais, Aldon collapsed, and everything went dark.

XXX

Draco didn't comment, not until they were out of that dreadful courtroom. It had been far too crowded in there, and even with the Malfoy name, he was only able to secure a seat for himself and Pansy at the back. He should have been among the first out, but even that – when the lights had gone out, it hadn't been panic, exactly, but people had mobbed the doors. He couldn't see where Black and his supporters, including that awful woman he called his girlfriend, had gone, nor Rosier, and it was all he could do to keep a hold of Pansy's hand as their parents shielded them and shuffled out.

Lord Riddle would be hosting a press conference in an hour on the courthouse steps, but Draco wasn't interested in that. He knew what Lord Riddle would say already – they would say that Justice herself had declined to strike the laws, that Black had been convicted, found guilty, guilty, guilty, and that Black had been suitably punished with the loss of his Family's gift.

Draco didn't care about that. He cared about Rigel – Harry. She could come home. She could come home, and even if Draco couldn't make the charges go away by that point, she could challenge the law. She would be fine, and they could always pass a new law. The old one was too much of a blanket anyway – maybe what they should do instead was test Muggleborns and halfbloods before they were allowed to go to Hogwarts or take jobs in the Ministry and so on. Most Muggleborns and halfbloods would fail it anyway, but it would let the truly exceptional ones, like Harry, shine as they should.

"So?" he whispered to Pansy, whom he had tugged a short way into Knockturn Alley, in front of a blank, closed shop. An apothecary, The Serpent's Storeroom, or something like that. "What did you think?"

"I'm still thinking it through," Pansy replied slowly. "It's certainly interesting, but I need to consider it from all angles."

"But it means she can come home, even if we can't get the charges dropped," Draco pushed, looking for confirmation. "She can just challenge the laws, and it'll be fine!"

Pansy was silent for a moment. "Don't let your father hear you saying that, Drake. Do you really want the laws struck?"

"We can always pass new laws, Pans." Draco smiled slightly. "The new laws can be better ones – more tailored. I mean, Harry was an exception anyway, so the laws shouldn't have been applied to her."

Pansy gave him a look, gently amused, though Draco felt a wave of distinct exasperation from her. "I don't know. Don't you remember her first year, those first few weeks when she couldn't do magic? Anyway, when has Harry ever wanted that kind of attention? Her cousin is quite different, it seems, and I still don't know if it's a good idea for her to come back. Blood identity theft is only a few of the offences she has been charged with, and I don't think she could strike most of the others. There are perfectly good reasons to uphold "healing without a license" as a charge, or fraud, or trespassing… and from a practical perspective, how are we even going to reach her to tell her about the decision?"

She paused, her blue eyes travelling to one side in thought. "I'm also… somewhat concerned for Aldon. I don't think possession was easy for him, and… well."

Draco snorted in derision. He had never been on the best of terms with Pansy's upper-year friend, and discovering his talent, and subsequent blood-status, only firmed his dislike. Rosier – Blake – had to have known about Harry, known for years, and he had used it to take advantage of her. He had known that Harry would not say no to him, which was probably why he had harassed her in the first place. The fact that Rigel was a girl only made that all so much worse.

"Know any other Truth-Speakers, Drake?" Pansy's voice was musical, amused, but he felt nothing like that from her. "He would have to do it again, you know. Be possessed."

Draco groaned, a noise of frustration. She was right, damn it. He didn't know any other Truth-Speakers, so Blake it would have to be.

"We can deal with that later," Draco decided with a sigh. "We still have to find her first. Find her, and bring her home."

XXX

Archie wasn't a Metamorphmagus anymore. The first thing he had done, when they had slipped out of the courthouse from a back exit to avoid the show of a press conference in the front (of all people, Clearwater had shown them the way out), was try to morph his features, thinking hard on his Harry Potter body. It didn't work.

It didn't work, and that was, weirdly, awesome. He didn't have a cool gift anymore, but he didn't need it anymore, and it wasn't like he couldn't disguise himself – he still knew about six different spells for that, excluding Polyjuice. But there was something so nice about that, something symbolic. Archie didn't have to hide himself all the time, and, in fact, he couldn't anymore. That was beautiful.

He could still do magic. He tried the minute he came home, Healing the remaining ache in his solar plexus where Justice had punched him, pulling at his magic, sorting out his gift. He didn't even think he had lost any magic – whatever she had done, she had left him with same core size he had had before, he just didn't have his gift anymore. Whatever. He didn't care.

The trial was over! He wasn't under house arrest anymore! And even if he had technically been convicted, that ruling had been amazing. Saiorse had run off to the closest red telephone booth in No-Maj London, calling in a report to the Nuachtliter Draoi, and Derrick and Isran had disappeared for the rest of the afternoon to draft a report that could be quietly spread throughout Wizarding Britain without being traced. Hermione, too, had given him the biggest, tightest hug she could, whispered a desperate apology about needing to report to the BIA, and run off.

That didn't matter, though – they were celebrating tonight, a small, impromptu party which, with all of Archie's friends, turned out to be slightly less small than he had expected. Saoirse showed up first, within two hours, carrying a crate of something called Guinness under one arm.

"Not sure if you can drink, but this calls for celebration," she said, blue eyes bright. "Sean says congratulations, by the way, a balanced account is going to be all over the Irish Gales tomorrow and mine will be in the Gaelic newspaper. He's sorry he can't make it, just couldn't get away."

"It's fine!" Archie said, grinning widely as he motioned her in. "Dad! Can I have some Guinness?"

Dad picked up one of the bottles, looking it over critically, before he sighed. "Just one, Archie."

It turned out Archie didn't even like Guinness, though he liked it more than the regular beer that he had drunk with the German team during the Triwizard Tournament. He managed to swallow about a third of it, before giving up and giving the rest to John, who genuinely seemed to enjoy it.

Toby had shown up, an hour afterwards – Archie wasn't even sure how he had gotten to London, since as far as he knew Toby wasn't connected to the Floo and couldn't Apparate, and a train from Glasgow to London was nearly six hours. Even getting to Hogsmeade, probably the closest Floo point to him, should have been an issue, but the Scottish boy waved it off.

"Don't worry about it, Arch," he said, his Scottish burr thicker than usual, as he pulled out a beautifully decorated bottle from his leather jacket. "I'll have to train back, but look, I brought Scotch! Hey, do you think you can put me up for the night, or should I try to get a space at the youth hostel again? I mean, depending on how late we go, I can probably kip at the train station, too."

"Dad!" Archie yelled, turning back into the house. "Can we get a room ready for my friend Toby? And also, can I have some scotch?"

"Yes, and no," Dad said reappearing from around the corner. "I'm claiming the scotch for Remus and I, I'm afraid."

"I'll sneak you some later," Toby whispered with a wink, even as Archie grinned.

Derrick had turned up, soon after that, carrying four huge bags of crisps and three plastic bottles of Coke, which made Archie light up like a beacon.

"Wow, thanks!" he said, gesturing for the older boy to come in. "I love Coke – everyone else so far has brought something alcoholic, so it's great!"

"Er, about that." Derrick fished around in his jacket, pulling out a small, dark bottle. "Rum. Can't have Coke without rum."

Archie laughed, and ran to get big bowls for the crisps. Hermione, of course, frowned at the selection the moment she arrived, a plate of chopped vegetables with dip under one arm.

"Coke and crisps, Derrick? Really?" She wrinkled her nose, looking at them.

"I like Coke, 'Mione!" Archie protested, already on his second glass. His eyes were wide, and he felt great.

"And you're high on sugar, Archie," Hermione said, looking him over. "It's all empty calories, the carbonation is bad for your digestive system, and you're going to get cavities. I'm shocked you don't already have cavities."

Archie pouted. "But I got – okay, I was convicted today, but I basically didn't lose anything, and we got a good ruling, right?!"

Hermione gave him a look of exasperated affection, setting her vegetables and dip on the counter. "It was a good ruling, but the SOW Party is already spinning it as a victory on their end, so it's a bit of a mixed success."

"It's better that way, though, Hermione," Saiorse said, her Irish lilt more prominent three bottles of Guinness in. Her eyes were shining, a little dreamy, though Archie thought Dad and Uncle Remus were keeping an eye on her, so it was fine. "If they can spin it as a success, they're less likely to try to come down on anyone else. Hey, has anyone told you that you're gorgeous? I would do you, I would."

"Hands off, Saoirse," Archie broke in, slinging one arm around Hermione. "She's my girlfriend."

Saoirse sighed. "Should have made a move on you during Triwizard," she replied lightly, shaking her head. "Where's the other girl? Francesca. She's super pretty too, maybe she'll be more receptive to my advances."

"John and Chess went out to get a spread of food – Middle Eastern, I think." Archie smiled apologetically. "But I think Chess is probably the straightest girl I have ever met."

Saoirse sighed again, putting her head down in her arms. "Why are all the cute girls straight? What's so good about boys anyway? They have no emotional intelligence and never deal with their feelings until dumb shit happens."

"I think I ought to be taking offense at that," Uncle Remus commented, his voice mild over a small glass of scotch over ice.

"Come now, Saiorse." Dad leaned across the table towards her, a slight, teasing, spark in his eyes. "You're too young to be so cynical. Maybe you should be looking to men instead of boys." He winked, and Saoirse let out a full-throated roar of laughter.

"I don't do dick," she replied, with a wink of her own. "But if I did, I would consider it. Sorry, Lord Black."

"Please, from someone so lovely? Just Sirius."

John and Chess reappeared soon after that, three huge trays of food in tow; more rice, flavoured heavily with spice, decorated with big balls of falafel, kebbeh, kofta, shish tawouk, butter-soaked potatoes, warm chicken and beef shawarma, pitas with hummus and moutabbal.

"The meat is halal," Chess commented, with a worried frown. "I don't know if Isran keeps halal? But I figured it was better to be safe than otherwise…"

"He doesn't," Hermione replied briskly, helping their two friends unload their goods onto the kitchen table. "He's not that religious, it's mainly a family thing, for him."

Isran was there half an hour later, a cake under his arm, decorated with the words "Congratulations!" and, weirdly, underneath, "Here's to good behaviour time!" with a design of grey handcuffs. Archie took one look at it and burst into peals of laughter, while his older friend shrugged, somewhat helplessly.

"I told them it was to celebrate the end of a friend's criminal trial," he admitted, a little embarrassed. "She asked if you got off, and I said no, but the sentence was really good and came down basically to time served, so I think she thought that this would be a good idea."

"It's awesome," Archie confirmed, taking it from him and setting it the kitchen counter. Hermione's vegetables and dip had made it onto the kitchen table, along with a pile of plates and the non-alcoholic drinks, so the cake only shared space with the crisps and alcohol. "I love it, it's hilarious!"

Percy showed up, a little after that, tumbling through the Floo and looking more than a little harassed as four of his siblings followed through soon after. "I'm sorry, Archie – the twins insisted on coming, and then because they came, my younger brother Ron wanted to come too, and then of course Ginny insisted…"

Archie only paused for the briefest moment, then he smiled and welcomed them all in. He didn't really know them, but then again, Percy had done brilliantly through the trial, and he had met the others before, while pretending to be Rigel. He liked the twins, from what he knew of them, and Ron and Ginny were Harry's friends, he thought. "Yeah, of course! Come on in – we've got tons of food, though I think all the Guinness Saoirse brought is gone and they're mostly through the scotch, too."

"We, uh, brought Butterbeer and Firewhiskey," one of the twins said, lifting a case and a bottle, eyeing Archie closely, while Ron and Ginny were looking at him with looks like they didn't quite know what to make of him. The kitchen was already pretty crowded, with Saoirse and Derrick now arguing loudly about Quidditch, and five Weasleys only made it more so. "You look … nothing like Rigel."

"I know, and isn't that great?" Archie beamed. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place! Most of the people here are my friends from AIM and the Triwizard Tournament, but I'm sure you'll be fine, everyone is really friendly."

"Um, sure," Ron said, a little awkward, lifting a covered casserole dish. "Our mum also sent this with us, so…"

"Thanks!" Archie grinned, taking it from Ron and pushing some of the trays on the kitchen table to find space for it. Uncovering it revealed a lasagna. "We have more food than we know what to do with – it's fine, but we'll need more drinks soon, I think…"

"Oh, Weasleys," Derrick interrupted, looking over, a slightly considering look on his face. His voice had a slight bite. "Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"Blood traitors," one of the twins snarked in reply. "Proud blood-traitors, you know. Zero prestige. Besides, we all know Cantankerous Nott was a nutjob, he definitely snuck the Notts on."

Derrick burst into laughter, clapping the twin on the back. "You're cool. Derrick Holden – I just graduated from AIM, but I'm still looking for work. Come on, argue Quidditch with Saoirse and I, she insists that the Irish National Team can still knock England out, even if Moran's retired."

"No way," the other twin said, shaking his head, as the Quidditch circle expanded to include the two of them, Ron and Ginny hovering awkwardly nearby. "Absolutely not, the beauty of the Irish team was that their Chasers worked in perfect sync, it'll take them years to train someone to fit in as well as Moran did…"

Percy had disappeared, but Archie suspected he would find the barrister already talking politics with Hermione and Isran somewhere. He had no interest in political manoeuvring, so he wandered through the house, finding John, Chess and Toby as they lounged in the sitting room, talking about the summer movies that had come out.

"You have to go see Forrest Gump," Toby was saying, making room on the sofa for Archie. John was in a deep armchair, Chess perched on his armrest. "I don't know how much I can emphasize this – that movie is going to be a classic, I mean I know the premise doesn't sound like your kind of movie, John, but you have to see it. It's so good."

"I'm off to Germany in a week." John hesitated. "Going to see Gerry in Frankfurt. I don't think it'll be playing there..."

"I'll definitely go see it – the theatre I usually go to doesn't show the newest stuff, though, it takes a few weeks. When did it come out?" Archie said eagerly. "Chess mentioned that there's a new Disney movie too, a few weeks ago, I'm going to see that, too."

"What are you, six?" Toby laughed, even as Chess scowled at him, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "No, calm down, Francesca. I don't mean it. The Lion King was pretty good, I liked it too."

"The music was good," Chess added, relaxing, apparently appeased. "I didn't like it as much as Aladdin or Beauty and the Beast, though… but, I mean, A Whole New World is hard to beat."

Archie agreed, with a grin, launching into song, throwing one hand out towards her, as if they were on a stage. "I can show you the world, shining, shimmering and splendid…"

Chess, with a tiny smile, joined him, even if she didn't take his hand. She wasn't a strong singer – she could carry a tune, but she sounded like she belonged in a choir or ensemble, not on centre stage. Even on the songs she loved most, there was a softness, hesitance about her voice that didn't translate well to the stage. "A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew…"

Their voices drew others into the sitting room, and from there, they really had no choice but to head to the back garden, break out Chess' CD player that she was experimenting with and put on some music, and for John to bring out his guitar. Archie sang – both accompanied and not, and sometimes he or John, the only boys with enough mastery of the air-hardening charm, joined Saoirse and Chess in the air. Chess was the more technically proficient dancer, Archie thought, but Saiorse held her own in their impromptu dance battle, her Gaelic chant raining flower petals on them all, even as Chess called thunder and lightning for a more powerful performance. Dad and the Weasley twins, whom Archie had not talked to enough to work out which one was which (not helped by the fact that they were definitely switching identities at whim), were interested in trying it, so Archie taught them the basic spell and started them on the first stair climb ascent and descent. All three of them fell a lot, just as Archie had for weeks, while Ron watched, mouth agape as he looked between them and the tricks the Chess and Saoirse were now throwing out mid-air. Ginny stood, arms crossed over her chest, a slight scowl on her face.

"You want to try, too?" Archie offered with a small smile, trying to bring her into the conversation. Even as her twin brothers had thrown themselves into the party, meeting everyone, cracking jokes, and generally adapting to the new social situation, and Ron had seemed interested, if taken aback, she had been a little stand-off-ish, a bit apart from everyone.

"No, thanks," she said, shaking her head. "Seems like a useless waste of magic to me."

"I don't think anything so beautiful is useless," Archie replied, raising an eyebrow. "Beautiful things give us hope, they inspire us and make life worth living. I love music, I love watching them dance."

"Arch!" Dad was calling him, so Archie smiled a quick goodbye and headed over. "Arch, let's do a men's dance battle! I think I've got the spell down!"

"Ugh, no, Dad!" Archie yelled back, laughing. "All the dancing I do is pairs, I don't know any tricks for the air!"

It was a good night, a perfect night, full of everyone who had loved him and supported him through the trial. He ate too much food and cake and drank too much Coke, he talked about all the things he loved and avoided Hermione's political discussions as much as he could. He sang and he danced and he watched others dancing, and he ended the night with one arm around his girlfriend, looking up at the night sky. They couldn't see much of the stars, the light pollution from London being too much, but he still knew that they were there.

He was the luckiest person in the world, he thought. He had friends, best friends, a whole community behind him. He had Dad and Uncle Remus on his other side, who loved him so much and supported him through the trial, and he knew that Harry, wherever she was, was safer and happier than she had probably been in years. He had Hermione, his love, whose strength shored him up when he needed it most.

There was one other person who should have been there, though, and Archie was ashamed to realize that he had completely forgotten him, over the excitement of the afternoon. Aldon Blake, formerly Rosier, newest outcast of British Wizarding Society, should have been there too, and Archie had no idea where he had gone. After the trial, he seemed to have disappeared.

"Hey, Dad," he said, giving his Dad a nudge with one shoulder. "Do we know what happened to Aldon? Where he's staying, and so on?"

"He's probably with his biological mother," Dad replied quietly, but he shook his head. "My usual sources are silent, and I don't know anything about Christina Blake, or where she lives. She's not listed in any of the wizarding directories, and my last few owls didn't get an answer. But I'll try again tomorrow morning, Arch. We'll find him and give him whatever help he needs, I promise."

XXX

AN: And thus concludes the trial arc. One of the most fascinating things I found about this particular part is that any lawyers I told about the trial arc immediately said "But Archie doesn't have standing!" whereas any non-lawyers immediately went "No, that's stupid, what does that even mean?!" So this is actually... a very realistic decision on Archie's charges. Thank you goes out to the crew of lawyers on this: JAP, SHL and REW, who took the time to read the closings and the decision, and as per usual to meek_bookworm, faithful beta-reader (who still swears that this trial was not boring). Review with your comments and criticisms, and onward we go! Boring trial chapters completed!

Next Chapter: Even when the dark comes crashing through / When you need a friend to carry you / And when you're broken on the ground / You will be found (You Will Be Found, from the Dear Evan Hansen musical).