CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE DEBATES

O

As Albus had predicted, the story that he had spanked the seventh years Harry Lussen, Jacob Carlsbad, and Mervin Coombs in a three-on-one duel spread like wildfire. It was precisely the type of story that everyone in the school mentioned in passing to everyone else. It had Lussen and his henchmen simmering in rage, but James, who had come over to shake Albus's hand and proclaim to the entire Great Hall that he was the proudest brother in the world, put Albus's fears to rest with a simple observation: Everyone now knew that Harry Lussen had it out for Albus, and so any attack on Albus would immediately be assumed to be Lussen's retribution. There was no way Lussen could get Albus back without everyone knowing exactly who was behind it.

Albus still couldn't help but worry every time he walked through the hall. After all, everyone knowing that Albus had beaten Harry Lussen in a duel was bad enough. But now, every student at Hogwarts knew that Harry had been drinking, which was forbidden on school grounds; that he had tried to grope Victoire, even considering Stunning her to do so; that he was now given detentions until the year's end, and was kicked off the Gryffindor Quidditch team; and that he had wet himself at the hands of a first year. Lussen was beyond boiling mad. Steam seemed to erupt from his nose whenever he saw Albus in the hall, and his little eyes were burning with fury. Albus tried as hard as he could to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Lussen.

However, as Albus had mostly gathered, barely anyone in Hogwarts liked Harry Lussen. So, it seemed like wherever he met Lussen, there were always several people who made a point of walking between them, and winking at Albus or glaring at Lussen. Mostly they were Gryffindors, but several Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws helped him out, too. This hero treatment was still going on even when two weeks had elapsed since the incident.

O

On Valentine's Day, Wilcox addressed the hall at breakfast.

"Students! Professor Valon and I will be out for the remainder of the week. Don't jump up and cheer just yet—you're still going to have your Potions classes!"

The students suppressed a collective groan of disappointment.

"I know, I know. I apologize. Madam Duopold will be overseeing the Potions classes—yes, she can do more than ride a broomstick—behave yourselves for her, she reports directly to Professor Valon. Now, there are some slight complications, as Madam Duopold does not normally oversee classes, and she has other duties. So, to accommodate this, all students of the same year will take Potions at the same time."

Wilcox went on to explain how the schedule would be changing; it took a very long time for him to explain how the sixth and seventh years would be having classes. Right as he finished, and Albus was about to go back to breakfast, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around, and his father was standing there, grinning.

"Hey, Al."

"Dad!" said Albus, and he got up from his seat to hug his father. People all around the hall were whispering and pointing at Harry Potter, but Albus did his best to ignore them, a talent at which his father was clearly well-practiced. It continued to be difficult for Albus, however.

"Somebody tells me you've been invading people's minds," said Harry, grinning, and Albus reddened. "I think that's a little worse than invading a girl's lavatory, should I have sent a Howler?"

Albus shook his head. "I forgot you were going to be here!"

Harry frowned. "Nobody was supposed to know I was coming…"

It was a good thing Albus was already slightly red, because he would have reddened from embarrassment—he had found that out through eavesdropping on Wilcox and Exo in a private conversation.

"Exo told me," said Albus quickly, and he hoped his father wouldn't check that.

"Ah, I keep forgetting, Helio's little boy," said Harry. "Is he doing all right? Not too sick?"

"He misses his afternoon classes about once a month," said Albus, feeling a bit of excitement—did his father know what Exo's condition was? If so, he might be able to worm it out of him someday.

"Poor Exo. Anyway, I'm going to go say hi to James, and maybe slap him around a bit for that stunt he pulled earlier this year, and then I have to go with Wilcox and the others down into the Forbidden Forest. Do me a favor. Don't tell anyone exactly why we're here, all right? And tell Exorian not to tell too many people, either."

"All right," said Albus, slightly deflating. He hadn't seen more than a few hours of his father in the last half of a year, and his father still was constantly in a hurry. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you back, Al," said Harry, and he tousled his son's hair before walking off swiftly to the front of the Great Hall, where several familiar faces and several unfamiliar ones were deep in conversation.

O

Albus only had Potions on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, so the day Professor Valon left was the only day he had Potions with Madam Duopold. Normally, he had Potions after double Transfiguration at the end of the day, but the class was inserted into the break between his first class, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, so that all of the first years could have the class at the same time.

He came back to the Great Hall to find that it was overflowing with his fellow first years. Madam Duopold was sitting at the front, reading a magazine in a pose very reminiscent of Professor Valon.

"Everybody, just get to a table," said Madam Duopold. "It doesn't matter which one, but it can't be a table that has any ingredients on it. Just make sure there are a few people in your House who are close to you so that you can refer to them if you fu—er, if you screw up."

Albus looked one direction, and saw none of his friends; he looked the other direction and saw Alec. He waved to Alec, then turned around again to look for more friends, and suddenly Holly Glissendale was about six inches from his face again. She waved at him.

"Hi there!" she said, as brightly as always.

"Hi," said Albus, smiling back.

Alec joined them and raised his eyebrows at Albus, then gave a nod at Holly and grinned. Albus ignored him and struck up a small conversation with Holly until Madam Duopold spoke again, her voice amplified to pierce the volume of the chatty Great Hall.

"Everybody at a table? Got your cauldrons? Good. So, there are tables scattered across the hall with ingredients; get some. You'll be making the first half of a simple Sleeping Draught, though Zayn told me that he doesn't expect anyone to make a potion that does more than make him yawn, and that's okay. Here's what you'll be doing…"

As she went through the task, Holly walked with Albus to get ingredients for the Sleeping Draught. She started talking about how today was Valentine's day, and it was funny that Valon wasn't here, she wanted to make the joke to him that it was "Valontine's Day." As they walked back, Albus glanced up at their table and saw Alec with a very mischievous grin. He didn't like that look.

Sure enough, Alec was insufferable during the entire period, and Albus couldn't concentrate on his potion. First he kept saying things like "We should be making love potions, it's Valentine's day! Who would you give a love potion to, Holly?" Then he began humming very loudly, and Albus realized after a few lines that he was humming "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love." His cheeks were completely red and his potion was atrocious by the end of the class period, and Holly looked a little flustered.

Albus looked around the Great Hall after the class period ended mercifully, looking for the rest of his friends, who might drag Alec away for him. He noticed something odd about the Great Hall.

As Rose passed by, he tapped her on the shoulder and asked her, "Is the Great Hall… wider than usual…?"

Rose groaned exasperatedly.

"Haven't you read Hogwarts: A History?"

Albus laughed. "No. So is it?"

"The Hogwarts Great Hall can expand as necessary, if you know the proper incantation," said Rose. "It's because the founders anticipated that there might be more students in the future. The Great Hall is also always expanded further during exam time and Apparition lessons so that the individual desks or hoops or whatever can be far enough apart."

"That's neat," said Albus.

"I knew that," said Holly, appearing at Albus's side. "Why didn't you ask me?"

Albus looked over at Rose. "Asking Rose about the things I don't know is a conditioned response," he said. (It was true.)

Rose smirked at Holly, and as Holly broke away to follow the Ravenclaws, Rose leaned up to Albus.

"So what's this thing going on with you and Holly?" she asked under her breath.

Albus reddened.

"We're friends," he said quickly. "What else were you thinking?"

"Oh, nothing," said Rose as brightly as Holly, and she trotted away looking happy, which made Albus worry what she was happy about—hadn't she heard him say they were just friends?

He followed her begrudgingly to Defense Against the Dark Arts, where she kept shooting happy glances at him, which frustrated him so badly that he couldn't take proper notes on what differentiated a Karmer from a Charmer, although it did seem rather intuitive. Why did everyone insist on making this more than it was?

He glanced outside at the Forbidden Forest. All the leaves had gone, except on some of the fur-growing trees. His father was in there, with seven other excellent witches and wizards, but Albus was still nervous about their safety, and an agitated forest spirit with immense powers tormented his dreams.

O

"Welcome to our fourth of six Quidditch matches on the year: a fierce match-up of Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff! It's time for James Potter to see if he can make good on all his trash talk! Can he beat the unbeatable Euan Yodelhop?"

There were equal screams of "Yes" and "No" in response to Barry's question, and the players took their places on the field as Madam Duopold released the Snitch. The older Gryffindors were singing a song, the lyrics of which sounded like "Cheryl Is Our Queen."

"They're off! Let's see about Gryffindor's new Chasers—that's right, everyone, we've got two new Chasers on the team. Harry Lussen—Harry Pissin', as some have started calling him, or Harry Leakin'—sorry, Professor Longbottom, I'm just relaying intellectual insights—anyway, Harry Wussen won't be joining us today, due to a severe case of being a nutcase, and he was banned from the team for the rest of the year. In protest, his girlfriend Erika Jordan resigned, although that was pretty pointless, but nobody really cared, she sucked anyway—oh, yes, Hufflepuff scored, sorry, forgot about that, that was Devon Elbiell, prized new recruit of the Hufflepuff Chasing squad. Anyway, our two new recruits, the sixth-year twins Anthony and Elizabeth Lidwipp, get control and dribble it down the field—wow, they're great! Look at them go—why haven't they tried out for the team before? Tony to Liz—Liz to Tony—Tony to Dominique—SHE SCORES! Ten to ten!"

Albus watched his brother soar around the stadium on his new Sheerer 720, and wondered what it would feel like to be one of the players.

James suddenly snapped into a dive and tore fiercely to the ground. At about the same time, Euan Yodelhop turned sharply and shot straight across the ground towards the same spot.

"Already, Potter and Yodelhop are barreling towards what would appear to be the Snitch, unless someone from the audience is casting a reflection from their watch! No, it's certainly the Snitch—they're in the same line, they look to be the same distance away! Who's gonna—OW! Oh, that was painful to watch!"

Neither James nor Euan had diverted from their path, and both had collided; the Snitch shot away and zigzagged out of sight.

"They're both getting up—give 'em a hand, folks! They're back on their brooms, James with a nasty cut on his arm, Euan with nothing but a slight ruffle to his hair that somehow makes him look even more handsome. James is immediately on the lookout, alert as a niffler on the hunt."

"Look," said Eftan, poking Albus on the shoulder.

Professor Wilcox was getting into his seat. Albus held Eftan's pair of binoculars close to his face, and zoomed in on Wilcox. The headmaster looked as pale and sick as his son did every month.

"They're back," said Eftan. "Is your dad here?"

"He might be," said Albus, and he swung the binoculars around, looking. He didn't have to look far—his father was sitting in the staff section of the stands, chatting with Professor Longbottom, looking less grim—certainly not happy, but far from nervous or distressed. Harry then broke off the chat with Professor Longbottom and turned to watch his son.

Barry was yelling about a brilliant possession from Gryffindor that made it 20-10, but Hufflepuff's Skyler Dock and Eileen Dock pulled an equally impressive move to tie the game. Harry watched intently as James zoomed around the field, and suddenly, James looked towards the staff table and saw his father.

Albus turned his binoculars back to Harry, to see his father wave and then point to his eyes, saying Keep your eyes out looking.

James nodded and turned back around to the field, circling it at ever faster rates, and Albus could tell he was trying as hard as possible to impress his father, but the only way he could do that was if he caught the Snitch before Euan Yodelhop.

Albus turned his gaze over to Euan, and got a small shock—one of Euan's eyes was squeezed shut, and it looked like it was hurting him. Euan nevertheless continued his diligent rounds of the stadium, but he was only looking through one eye the entire time.

Thirty to twenty, Hufflepuff, and then forty to twenty, sixty to twenty, eighty to twenty, and the initial rush of talent from Gryffindor's new Chasers was beginning to wear out as the Hufflepuffs learned their tricks. Cheryl Wood took a time-out, and the Gryffindors came back with three straight goals off of spectacular plays, and Cheryl began saving every goal the Hufflepuffs threw at her.

Suddenly, after the score had remained eighty to fifty for a while, Barry's excited shouts echoed through the stadium: "It's the Snitch! That's the Snitch! James Potter's seen it before Euan Yodelhop!"

Euan was coming in on James from a terrible angle, too: James was in the center of the field and happened to be between Euan and the Snitch. The golden ball took a sharp turn upward, and James sped after it. Euan turned his broom and shot the diagonal into the sky, but it was too late—

"POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH! JAMES POTTER HAS THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS, TWO HUNDRED TO EIGHTY! EUAN YODELHOP'S UNDEFEATED CAREER AT HOGWARTS IS OVER IN HIS SECOND-TO-LAST APPEARANCE! FOR THE FIRST TIME IN SIX YEARS, HUFFLEPUFF LOSES A QUIDDITCH MATCH!"

The cheer from the Gryffindor stands was one of the loudest sounds that Albus had ever heard. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, mostly into Aidan's shocked face. The Hufflepuff team all landed and patted each other's backs, comforting Euan Yodelhop, though the blond was very sporting about it. He walked over to the Gryffindor team's celebratory huddle to shake James's hand, but James wasn't with them. Albus turned the binoculars up to the stands and found his brother in the staff section, hugging his father tightly. Harry was beaming with pride.

O

On the following Monday, Albus sat near Alec and Holly in History of Magic and had a long discussion about Quidditch.

"Hufflepuff could still win if they beat Slytherin," said Alec. "Gryffindor's gotta crush Ravenclaw if they have even a small chance, and I don't think they're gonna be able to crush us. Either way, for Gryffindor to win, Slytherin's gotta lose to Hufflepuff, but if that happens, then Hufflepuff still has a chance of winning. I think it's too small of a window for Gryffindor to fit through if they're going to take the Cup, but then again, Gryffindor has an advantage: They play the last match of the season, so by the time they play, they'll know exactly how many points they need to get in order to win."

"Ravenclaw could still win if they beat Gryffindor by, like, five hundred," said Holly.

Alec laughed, but Albus nodded. "No, that's true. Gryffindor will probably be holding out as long as possible. Say Gryffindor needs to win by fifty: They won't grab the Snitch until they're up by fifty, and James will try to block the other Seeker, so the game seriously could last long enough for Ravenclaw to go up by five hundred, if Gryffindor's Chasers are outmatched. Even down five hundred, James still wouldn't grab the Snitch in case the Chasers make a comeback."

"Class, would you please pay attention for a moment?" said a monotonous voice from the front.

The entire class fell silent immediately.

It wasn't because Professor Binns had such command over them—hardly any teacher could instantly make a class silent. The cause for the silence, Albus guessed from his own experience, was because Professor Binns had never addressed them before—he simply walked into class and began lecturing in his horrendously boring drone. Most of the class suspected that he wouldn't even realize if the classroom was empty.

"Litinia?" said Professor Binns.

The class looked around, confused, until a portrait in the back of the room spoke. "Yes, Cuthbert?"

The class turned around to look—the portrait had always been there, but the aura of the classroom seemed to smother all moods of interest, and so nobody had ever really looked around the classroom before. The portrait was of a young woman with light brown, curly hair, wearing a tight-fitting green dress and large green earrings with a flower in her hair.

"Would you please inform Helio Wilcox that we are ready?"

"Of course." The portrait named Litinia turned and walked sideways out of her frame.

"You are going on a field trip," said Professor Binns, and without even a word of explanation, he floated back through the blackboard the way he'd come, and disappeared.

The class gawked at each other. Something interesting—in History of Magic? A field trip? What was going on? Had someone Confunded the entire room?

Albus pinched himself, and it did indeed hurt, so he wasn't dreaming. He looked around and laughed as he saw more arms being pinched.

Litinia returned to her portrait shortly after and announced, "Professor Wilcox will be down momentarily to escort you."

"Where are we going?"

"He feels that it is necessary that students learn more about our political system, and become knowledgeable about current issues," said Litinia. "He is going to escort you to the International Confederation of Wizards debates on the repeal of the International Statute of Secrecy."

There were gasps and appreciative nods all around the room.

"We're actually going to watch the debates?" asked Arthur Acromere.

"Yes," said Litinia. "In person. Professor Wilcox has arranged for all classes to attend. The debates are right in our country, in the Ministry of Magic."

Excited whispers broke out everywhere as Scott asked, "What about the rest of our day?"

"I believe you will be returning after the length of two class periods," said Litinia, "so, before lunch? You'll miss one class."

Albus leaned over his desk and hailed Exo a few desks over. "Did you know about this?" he asked the headmaster's son.

Exo shook his head. "Dad didn't even tell me. Maybe he didn't want to tell us in case he couldn't get permission to bring us."

"I believe that was the reason, yes," said Litinia.

The classroom fell silent for a moment.

"What's your name again?" asked a Ravenclaw who Albus believed was named Whitney Mallagora.

Litinia smiled. "Litinia Darstary," she said. "I was a Herbology professor at Hogwarts seven hundred years ago. Do you know a Professor Phyllida Spore? She wrote most of your Herbology textbook, I believe, and became Headmaster in 1357… She was a pupil of mine."

1357?

That would make Litinia…

"Hey," said Albus, turning around to face her. "Lit—Professor Darstary?"

"Litinia is fine," said Litinia, smiling.

"When were you born?"

"I was born in 1248," said Litinia. "I taught here from 1296 to 130—"

"Do you know anything about Di—about the mulunctapoli?" asked Albus, starting before Litinia finished, out of excitement. He changed his mind halfway through asking about Dismiusa, because he suddenly remembered that not all of his classmates were acquainted with that name.

All eyes turned to Litinia.

She nodded. "Beautiful creatures, such a shame they were exterminated." She looked angry for a moment before she collected herself. "Then again, I have been accused throughout my life of loving nature more than people, so I suppose my view is a biased one… The mulunctapoli problem was indeed menacing every aspect of civilized society. The Ministry had them exterminated, but kept it entirely secret how the extermination was accomplished."

"Why?" asked Albus.

"Oops," said Litinia. "I forgot to ask the Ministry why everything was a secret, I'm certain they would have given me a full and comprehensive answer."

The class laughed, and Albus couldn't help but grin. "So nobody knows how they did the extermination?"

"Not a soul alive today."

"Could they have missed some?"

"Professor Wilcox believes so. I have tried to convince him that the survival of a wild mulunctapol was impossible… I happen to know that the extermination was complete."

"How do you know?"

"Because my husband was the exterminator," said Litinia. "Sidland Darstary. He finished painting me shortly after the task was completed, and I was partially imbued with his knowledge—it is how portraits work. He knows he killed all of them."

"How does he know?"

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" She smiled. "It's quite all right—something to be treasured, in fact. Satisfying a curious mind is one of the reasons I became a teacher. But I will not tell you how my husband knew that he had succeeded."

Albus's face fell. "Why not?"

"Because he didn't tell me," said Litinia, shrugging. "I am sorry to disappoint you."

"That's all right, you can't help it," mumbled Albus, right as the door opened.

Wilcox strode in jovially. "I have a surprise for you!" he said, holding out his arms as if to hug the entire class.

Litinia coughed. "Er, I apologize, Professor Wilcox, but I have thoroughly ruined your surprise."

"Oh," he said, looking slightly crestfallen. "Well, that's all right, I can still surprise the rest of the classes—so don't tell anyone where you've gone! I'll announce it at lunch. Sorry for not informing you beforehand, but I only got permission to bring you about an hour ago. The debates are going to go on for several days; you boys and girls are being treated to the first day of the debates, they only started about an hour ago."

He stepped aside, and through the doorway floated a large dictionary of legal terms. It was glowing with a blue light.

"This will serve as both our Portkey and as a reference for people who have no idea what these lawmakers are saying," he said. "Percy Weasley, the Minister of Magic himself, created this Portkey, only the Minister can create them to go in and out of the Ministry, in much the same way that only the Headmaster can create them in and out of Hogwarts, or how only those with permission from both countries can create Portkeys between them. That's your bit of trivia for the day, your very short History of Magic lesson, but you won't be tested on it. Come on, everyone, let's get into the hall where there's more room for everyone to crowd around the Portkey…"

The students all stepped out into the hall, but Albus took a detour and stepped very close to Litinia's portrait.

"Do you know anything about Dismiusa?" he whispered.

Litinia shook her head.

"I suspected that was what you were going to ask, before you changed your mind," she said. "Dismiusa is an entirely fantastical being. A fairy tale, founded and farmed on falsehoods. You would do best to forget about it. Hurry along, now, or you'll miss your ride!"

Albus nodded and thanked her for the information, then sprinted out into the hall to grab the Portkey.

"That's everyone, then," said Wilcox. "Good. The Portkey leaves in thirty seconds. Remember to not fight the Portkey! Just stay perfectly limp and don't move around too much, or you could rip yourself off of the Portkey and risk an infinitely more severe version of Splinching known as Explintering, of which the name alone gives a pretty good idea as to why it isn't a good idea."

As they prepared to leave, he frowned in thought. Litinia said that there were no wild mulunctapoli left, but also that Dismiusa was not real. Then how did these most recent mulunctapoli get here? If someone was keeping them alive, why were they biding their time for seven hundred years? It didn't make much sense.

He was yanked right out of his thoughts by the jerking of the Portkey. His finger was glued to the book as he hurtled through dark and winding space, the darkness compressing his lungs like it was solid, the Portkey pulling him by what felt like a hook behind his navel, and then suddenly it was over; they all slammed to the cold floor of a hallway in the Ministry of Magic.

"All right," said Wilcox, who had managed to stay standing on the landing. "First, I want to make sure everything's okay for us in there. But before that… mm, then I guess that would be second, and this is first… is anyone feeling extremely nauseous or panicky?"

Two Ravenclaw girls raised their hands; Albus thought their names were Kelly Aldrice and Dinah Bohr. They were on wobbly legs and looked severely green.

"Well, we have better remedies for that than we did a century ago, when students were still taking Portkeys to Hogwarts," said Professor Wilcox, uncapping a vial of an orange potion that seemed to have frosted over. It turned back into liquid when he opened it. "I hear it was a mess… students absolutely flowing into the hospital wing on the first day. Now, bear in mind, this will give you the severe need to pee, but you should get over the sickness directly after that." He conjured two glasses from the air, and poured a little bit from the vial of potion into each. "I'll have to remember to thank Zayn for the potions later. I knew we'd have one or two sick kids, even with a hand as steady as Percy's." He put the cap back on the potion, and flicked the vial with a fingernail; it immediately iced over again.

He noticed Albus looking interestedly at the vial, and he smiled. "Orienge," he said, holding up the potion and shaking it. "Used as a cure for sickness caused by jarring motions, but also for dizziness, headaches, and migraines. You can also use it to sharpen the speed at which you take in surroundings while you're moving, which is why this is a banned substance for Quidditch matches. Caused a lot of problems in the mid-twentieth century when it was invented, until they realized that it's pretty easy to tell when a Quidditch player's taken this potion: They're going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes." He stowed the vial away. "Your classmates should be fine after their first trip, though, I only gave them enough to recover from that momentary sensation of the Portkey travel."

"Ooh, I gotta go," said Dinah, and she clutched her stomach. Wilcox pointed her in the direction of the nearest lavatory, and she hobbled in that direction, doubled over. Kelly followed shortly after in the same manner.

"Are you interested in making potions like these?" Wilcox asked Albus. "Zayn tells me you're one of the naturals in his class. Given any thought to your future career yet?"

Albus shook his head, wondering if that was a bad thing.

"No worries, you're only eleven," said Wilcox. "But next year you should give thought to your post-Hogwarts life. Easter is when you'll be choosing your electives, and although you can go back after your fifth year and retake some O.W.L. courses at a faster pace, you can only take the N.E.W.T.s of the O.W.L.s you've taken fifth year."

Albus was regrettably paying less than full attention, but he felt like all this would be repeated to him when necessary. Wilcox turned and started talking to the Greengrass triplets, and Albus started taking in the sights of the Ministry; the handsome stone arches; the enchanted windows that showed a bright, sunny landscape, even though they were underground; the international flags that hung all around this hallway for the conference.

Shortly after that, Dinah and Kelly returned, and Wilcox raised his hands to get everyone's attention.

"We'll enter the courtroom now," he said. "It's where the debates are hosted. I beg you to please, remain as quiet as possible, and try to listen. These are very important issues. I'll be speaking here, but not today, so I will be able to chaperone you the whole time. If you need anything, tap me on the shoulder and point to the door; we will leave and you will tell me the problem out there so that we cause as few disruptions as possible. If you need to go to the lavatory, I'd like you to still inform me, but you should just leave quietly by yourself after that. It's right down the hall. Is everyone ready?"

Wilcox watched as they all gave slow, nervous nods, and then he opened the large door in front of them and ushered them in.

There was a black man standing at one of two tables in the center of the courtroom, giving a speech to the audience. Next to him at the table was a frail-looking old woman. At the second table, there was a young Asian woman with hair tied back in a bun, and none other than Arthur Weasley, Albus's grandfather.

"We must wait," said the man standing in the middle with a thick accent, as he began to pace. "The timing… is not right." He paused. "We have a saying in my tribe: 'Bendera hufuata upepo.' This means, a flag follows the direction of the wind. The winds have been gusting towards secrecy for over three hundred years, and now, we are trying to walk into this vicious wind, instead of letting it carry us. And I see nothing in the distance towards which we would be walking. We do not harm the Muggles—" he pronounced it Moouggles— "by staying away from them. We do not harm them. But the Muggles, they will harm us. I do not understand why we have these debates; our ancestors had them three hundred years ago and came to the conclusion that forever, the Wizarding world must be separated. Forever, Muggles must be avoided. We do not assume to know whether Muggles would be accepting to the existence of magic, but that is not the point of these debates. The point is that a global revelation would do us a great amount of harm, and that should be the only point to be considered."

He sat down, and Albus had an urge to applaud, as people would normally do after a speech. However, nobody was applauding.

Then Arthur Weasley stood, straightened his robes, and addressed the room. Albus shifted in his seat and craned his neck at an optimal angle to watch.

"Albus Dumbledore once said," he began, "he believed the International Statute of Secrecy was a permanent pain in our backs, self-inflicted to distract us from a temporary scar on our chests."

Albus smiled; Grandpa Weasley was, after all, referring to the brilliant man after whom he was named. At the start of that sentence, he had thought for a moment that Grandpa Weasley was talking to him, until he followed "Albus" with "Dumbledore" instead of "Potter."

Arthur Weasley continued calmly. "We all know that the International Statute of Secrecy was put into place a long time ago. Around a third of a millennium. We all know it was a time of turmoil and distress for the wizarding community. Naturally, it was up to the International Confederation of Wizards to alleviate the suffering of its people. And it did so, rather effectively. To simplify matters, the International Statute of Secrecy was set to stand for all time. But there was something our ancestors could not foresee."

He turned to the other table. "Technology." He stared at them for a moment before continuing. "It was not Muggle attitudes that they overlooked—certainly, Muggles wouldn't be so close-minded and superstitious forever, and they knew that, but it was still better for both parties to remain separate forever. No… the thing that they never saw coming was the advancement of invention. Electricity. Technology.

"I am now going to explain what the Internet is."

Furrowed brows spread through the room. "Miss Aokuro, if you would?" said Mr. Weasley. "Please, I would like everyone to imagine now that I am a Muggle who notices a dragon."

The Asian woman at Mr. Weasley's table flicked her wand in the air, and a sparkling dragon made out of smoke flew into the air above their heads.

Then, Mr. Weasley took out a device that Albus had seen before. He held it up to the sky and pressed a few buttons, and then the dragon disappeared.

"I only saw this dragon for about five seconds," said Mr. Weasley. "But this little device that fits in my pocket? It is called a cell phone. You may not have to worry about this Muggle yelling to the stars that he's seen a dragon, because no one will believe him… but in the five seconds that he sees it, a Muggle is one hundred percent capable of taking a picture, or even a video recording—that is, the Muggle equivalent of a Pensieve that can only be reviewed from one angle—of this dragon. Engorgio."

He moved his wand in a small circle, and suddenly the phone grew to about ten times its normal height and length, and began slowly rotating in the center of the courtroom.

There were gasps all around the room as a moving image of the dragon replayed itself on the screen of the phone. Mr. Weasley smiled at the effect, and continued. "Indeed. The Muggles have outdone themselves with invention. It is my belief that more attention should have been paid to the development of the non-magical world—then, we may have foreseen this. In any case, I will identify the emergent problem now." He held up a hand and gave a flourish at the screen. "In a time of less than thirty seconds, a person can 'upload' this video from their phone directly to the Internet. For anyone who doesn't know what the Internet is, just imagine this: A Muggle can search the Internet for information, and find that information in under five seconds. It's quicker than Summoning a textbook. They are more adept at accessing information than we are. And it's not just information: If anyone, anywhere in the world, writes something or takes a picture and 'uploads' it to the Internet—the word 'upload' means that they place something inside an invisible cloud of information—anyone in the world with access to the Internet can see it. Anyone who is looking for proof that magic exists can search the Internet for pictures and videos of dragons and magic, and they will be able to access every picture and video of magical events that has ever been uploaded. And here is the worst part: Even if the Wizarding community found a way to Obliterate these pictures, these videos, from this Internet, it would be much worse for us: Every Muggle who uses the Internet and sees these pictures is a secret to us. We don't know who the viewers of these pictures are. Some Muggles will notice if we erase information from the Internet, and this will cause them to believe it even more. And, they will blame their own governments for trying to cover up the existence of magic. Witches and warlocks, I do not presume that a global revelation is a good idea—but I do claim, and rightfully so, that it is the lesser of two evils.

"I am certain that you all have heard of the Sands of Time, the wizarding nationalist group of Africa, Asia, and Europe, which claims that Muggles must be made aware of our existence? These terrorists are doing everything in their power, short of that which would get them caught, to let Muggles know about magic. We do not negotiate with terrorists, but just know that if left to their own devices, they will succeed. There are hidden cameras in Muggle villages, cameras in Muggle homes and Muggle pockets, even on nature reserves, ready to be activated in order to capture any sign of paranormal or supernatural phenomena. Once it has been recorded, there is no way for us to convince Muggles that what they have seen is false. Eventually, they will piece it together. There is no stopping this from eventually happening, but I am of the strong belief that the Muggles will resent us much less if we reveal ourselves to them, rather than if they discover us on their own—which, I will once again stress, will absolutely, undoubtedly happen, unless we reveal ourselves first.

"I do not presume, never have presumed, and never will presume that every Muggle will be completely understanding, nor that there will be no repercussions. I am not arguing that it will not hurt us, nor am I arguing that it will not hurt them What I beg you to realize is that, one way or another, the Muggles will find out. Even just one careless mistake by one careless wizard could make that a reality right now. The only question is whether or not we will reveal ourselves to them, or whether we let them uncover us in our places of hiding, and perhaps abandon all hope that they may ever trust us. If anyone in attendance would like me to go further into depth on what exactly the internet is, or what a cell phone is, I will gladly do so for you, because I want to make sure everybody understands that we have been underestimating the Muggles for far too long, and that continuing to do so will end up threatening the harmony that could be established now if the Confederation takes action. Thank you."

He sat back down at the table. Albus felt like a very good point had been made—his mind had been changed, too. It seemed like the opposition was arguing a flawed point: Grandpa Weasley had made the debates not about whether or not a global revelation was a good thing, but rather about revealing the Wizarding world now rather than letting Muggles find out for themselves. However, Albus was still not entirely convinced because of one factor. Based on the skeptical looks around the room, he felt that the delegates from the other countries were thinking the same things. Were Muggles really capable of finding them out?

The rest of the morning followed the path that Mr. Weasley had set, but was less in his favor than the beginning of the debates. Other speakers discussed the history of Muggle ignorance and disbelief of magic, and the unwillingness that Muggles had for believing in magic, and then noted how very little had changed in that manner—that Muggles would eagerly remain oblivious forever. The court would seem to swing one way, when more Muggle methods of detection were discussed, but then the opposition would insist that this would not lead to the Muggles discovering magic, but rather to the further discrediting of the individuals making the claim, which would deter future Muggles from doing anything similar. Mr. Weasley gave another impassioned speech before the end of the debates, about how it was terrible of wizards to allow Muggles to be socially deemed insane, simply for believing in magic, and that it caused suffering to Muggles as well, but Albus was surprised to note that this garnered the least positive reactions he'd seen. He was surprised to see no pity on most of the faces in the crowd when his grandfather begged them not to let those fates befall Muggles simply because those Muggles were trying to tell the truth.

He caught sight of his father in the audience, too, but Harry did not see him, and Harry did not speak during the hour and a half in which they attended. Mostly it was delegates from different countries who gave fifteen-minute-long speeches, after the first few short ones. Some of them spoke so slowly that it was almost unbearable to listen—even worse than if they had been left with Binns—and some of them talked with such thick accents that it was impossible to determine what they were saying.

Finally, when the first speaker they'd seen had returned to the center of the courtroom to discuss the problems with "Moouggles," Wilcox got the attention of the attention of the first years. "Come," he whispered, and they all stood up and left as silently as possible.

Once they were out in the hall, Wilcox clapped his hands together. "Wasn't that riveting?" he said quietly, but with a large grin.

No one answered.

"February the nineteenth, two thousand and seventeen," he said. "A date to remember. I hope that you all do remember that you were here to watch it take place. This could be an event of historic proportions. That's why I took you out of your History of Magic course—you were just watching history happen, why sit in a classroom learning about it when you can be right in the middle of it?"

He then opened a closet door nearby and, with a wave of his wand, extracted a glowing blue wheel that looked like it was ripped right off a bike. "This is our ride," he said. "Everyone hold hands now and grab the Portkey…"

They did so, and the Portkey whisked them out of the building, back into the hallway where they started.

"The Great Hall will be serving lunch very soon," he said. "I suggest you head there after our quick chat.

"So! How did you enjoy it?"

The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws exchanged awkward glances.

"Come on, you were paying attention, weren't you?" asked Wilcox. "Why did you think I brought you, to be able to say you napped through one of the most important political meetings of the twenty-first century? Doesn't anyone have any thoughts?"

Wilcox looked actually physically upset that no one was raising a hand. Risking humiliation, Albus raised his hand, because he couldn't stand Wilcox leaving with the thought that his special field trip, which must have taken a lot of planning, had no impact on their class.

Wilcox looked overjoyed when the hand was raised, and he nodded to Albus.

"Er… I was just wondering," said Albus. "The debates… didn't really seem to be what I was expecting. They were debating more about… about what to, er, debate about… if that makes sense?"

"I know what you mean," said Wilcox, nodding in appreciation at the observation. "Did anyone else notice that? These debates were strange—most of the discussion was based on figuring out what they were supposed to be debating! Isn't that what you meant, Albus?"

"Yes," replied Albus, glad that Wilcox could translate the straw-grasping he'd just done.

"This was a rather unusual topic," said Wilcox. "The delegates were often trying to convince each other what the debates were about. Arthur Weasley insisted that the debates were about realizing that, eventually, Muggles will learn of the Wizarding world, whether or not we tell them, and that they will trust us even less if we continue to hide until the point of discovery. Mbato—he was the African delegate you saw—insisted that the debates were about realizing that the consequences of revealing the Wizarding world to Muggles are absolutely disastrous, that every witch and wizard will pay the price for a global revelation, and that it is never acceptable for the people in power to put those costs on our Wizarding citizens. Does anyone think they know who's right?"

There was silence.

"I don't think anyone's right," said Riley.

"Excellent!" said Wilcox, clapping his hands together again. "Now you're getting the hang of politics!"