A/N: I wish I owned this; alas I do not! For more back story about Healer Phillip Marcus Stallsworth, please see the last section of "Chapter 26: Starting Over", in my first story, Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell.

Thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter. There's a lot of the beginning that's not been beta-read; I added this whole first section after I got it back from her. Any and all mistakes in it are mine! This chapter brought to you by my immense love for "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report". Any parts that are read aloud by a character are in italics and are set off by single quotation marks.

I'm also doing a small series on Livejournal (link in my profile) that's a canon-compliant version of Michael and Daphne's relationship going back to their sixth year, called "Lessons". Check it out if you wish (and you want more Michael/Daphne goodness)!

Lyrics from "Wonderwall", by Oasis.


Chapter 14: A Seditious Enterprise

She punched and pounded the parchment between her fists. She balled it up with her right hand and tossed it into the rubbish bin just next to her bed.

"I can't get this right!" Ginny exclaimed, flopping her arms down in frustration. They were in Ginny's room, working diligently on their articles for the first issue of their pamphlet. Since it had been her idea, Daphne's assignment would be an article directly critiquing the foundation of the Ministry's assertions that Muggle-borns steal powers. She would be citing several Healers, magical researchers and Sanguigeneticists whose works had previously gone unnoticed by their society. She had been writing furiously for most of the morning.

Ginny had been floundering in a sea of half-started sentences, half-cooked ideas, and half-developed sentiments. She attempted to string together bits and pieces of information about the war that she had picked up from the Burrow and from pestering her brothers and father. However, none of it was translating into what Ginny wanted to write.

A story that came from her guts.

"I want to write about the war but," she shrugged, "It just comes across as . . . as . . ."

Daphne set her quill down and regarded Ginny with both compassion and pity. "It's too superficial?"

"Well . . . yeah!"

"Amateurish?"

"Sure."

"Rather stupid?"

"Hey now!" Ginny gave Daphne a flat look. The Slytherin girl smirked at her.

"Well, you don't have to contribute anything, y'know?" Daphne shrugged. "I reckon I could fill an entire pamphlet with all this shite." She waved her hand over the various parchments and notes that she had retrieved from "a friend" earlier that week. Daphne had been oddly reticent to tell Ginny how and why she had so much anti-Healer information; the only thing she had said was, "You wouldn't believe me if told you."

"Ginny," Daphne said setting her quill down. "Don't worry. I wouldn't stress about it if I were you—"

"No. I want to . . . to contribute something." She puffed out her cheeks and blew out a breath. "I just want to get it right."

Daphne grinned understandingly. "Why don't you take a break. Get some tea or something. Think about it some more. I mean, we've got some time."

She nodded in response. "Do you want anything from the kitchen?"

"Nah. Trying to watch my girlish figure."

"Oh, I think Michael is quite all right with your girlish figure," Ginny smirked and giggled. She shut the door just as Daphne threw a couple of balled-up parchments at her.

Making her way down the stairs, Ginny could hear two female voices on the living room couch. She stopped walking, wanting to see who was downstairs but not wanting to draw attention to herself. She could see her mum, talking animatedly with another woman whose face Ginny couldn't see. Although, the way her hair kept changing from red to brown to blue and back to red again told Ginny all she needed to know about the woman's identity.

"Dear," Molly said, sympathetically patting Tonks' hand, "believe me, as someone who has lived through two wars now, you can't simply trust that people will act as you want them to." She smiled sadly at the younger woman. "Bringing a child into this world right now, with all this violence and these senseless killings, it scares him—"

"You know what's frustrating about this entire thing, Molly?" The younger woman leaned forward. "It's making me feel like I'm a burden. Like I made a mistake, I forced him to marry me, I got him to impregnate me . . ."

Ginny nearly stumbled backwards on the stairs.

(Tonks is pregnant?)

(Holy crap!)

(But she doesn't seem happy about it.)

"I'm like this thing that he wants to run away from. Far, far away. . . ." She fell back onto the couch and stretched out, keeping her boots off of the furniture. Tonks rubbed her forehead with her forearm. "I feel like I need to let Remus take his time and sort out his feelings. And that's when I want to chuck our wall clock at his thick skull and tell him to man up and be responsible!" She hissed. "I'm chalking that up to hormones. And stress. And the fact that my parents are still recovering from being tortured." Ginny could see the Auror bow her head; her shoulders shook and she brought her hand up to her face.

Molly gave her a worried look. "How are they doing?"

Tonks sniffed. "They're doing better." She shook her head. "Their house is another matter, though. I keep telling Dad that it's good they didn't burn it down. He keeps saying that he almost wishes that they had." Tonks shrugged. "I told him if he can't wash off the words that they left up on the front of the house, try," she swirled her hand around, "I dunno. Putting his own personal spin on it. Like, instead of the 'M-word', simply cover up a couple of letters. Pug - blood!" She flashed her hand with each syllable.

Molly chuckled. "I don't want to say it, because he's your father—"

"But he's got a face like a pug, doesn't he?" Tonks snorted and guffawed. She stopped after a few moments. "It gives my stomach a nasty jolt when I see what they wrote all over the house. How they ransacked every room, touched, broke, and shattered practically everything they owned. Mum said that they Petrified her and Dad and made them watch as they held target practice on all of their belongings. Before they hit them with the Cruciatus Curse."

Molly remained silent, her expression filled with sentiments that did not need to be voiced.

"And Remus is barely there. Barely present! Ever since I told him about the baby, he's been distant with me. Ever since he got back from checking on Harry, Ron and Hermione, he's clammed up completely when I try to talk to him about what we need to do." Tonks let out a frustrated breath.

Ginny felt her heart stop. Remus knew how Ron, Hermione, and Harry were doing. Remus had seen them and talked to them—

(And now he's acting differently, isn't he?)

(What in the world happened?)

Ginny rubbed at her leg. She was crouched in an awkward kneeling position, and she could feel her muscles starting to cramp up. But she wasn't about to move; she desperately wanted to hear rest of the conversation.

"He tries to help me with Mum and Dad and the house, but," Tonks shook her hands in front of her face, "there's nothing coming out of him. And I'm not one of those girls that goes around and asks a bloke how he's feeling, or if I'm making him happy or anything."

"But he's your husband," Molly said with a sad little chuckle.

"That – he – is . . . the great idiot!"

The women both chuckled.

Tonks whistled out a breath, puffed out her checks, and turned her head around towards the stairs. "Well, I suppose we can let Ginny come down the rest of the way and join us. I'm sure she has a ton of questions about Harry, Ron and Hermione."

Ginny gaped and came out of hiding. "How did you—? I was as quiet as a mouse up there!"

Tonks just stared at her. "I'm an Auror. If I didn't notice things like little witches hiding in dark crevasses, I'd have my arse handed to me daily!" She quickly brought her hand up to her mouth. "Oops! Excuse me, Molly." She winced. "Didn't mean to let that slip out."

Molly smirked at her and stood up. "I'll let it pass, dear. But just this once!" She winked at Tonks and made her way to the kitchen, flicking her wand to get a pot of tea started.

"Well, congratulations then," Ginny said, an awkward grin spreading across her face.

"I think you heard enough of that conversation to ferret out that Casa Lupin is not a bright and happy place to be right now."

Ginny sucked in a breath. "He'll come around, Tonks. All good men do. And Lupin's one of the best."

Tonks smiled at her. "That's really nice but," she glanced at the kitchen, "your mum's got a point. War does something to people. Causes them to do things they wouldn't normally do." She shivered. "War can bring out the worst in others. I could tell you stories about colleagues of mine, of Aurors that came before me, who let the darkest parts of themselves run amuck because they were so caught up in the fight that they lost themselves."

Tonks looked at Ginny and the younger witch flinched under the Auror's unusually piercing gaze. "Sometimes, the good guys were worse than the enemy."

"It . . . is it like, sometimes, you can't tell which side's which?"

Tonks leaned forward and spoke in the most serious tone that Ginny had ever heard from her. "There's always two sides to any war. You are the enemy to the other side, and they are the enemy to you. The thing to always remember about your enemy is how. How do they treat you when you're engaged in arms against them? How do you handle them? If you've gone into battle and you come out alive and you feel like your soul is still intact, then that's a very good start."

Ginny made no moves. She absorbed the Auror's wise words, her mouth slightly open, her head slowly bobbing up and down. And she started thinking about her family, Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Would such a fate befall them? Would they be forced to see the worst parts of themselves?

And with everything her family, Harry and Hermione have all been through already . . . was the worst yet to come?

How would they come out of this fight with themselves intact?

It hit Ginny like a Bludgeoning Hex right between her eyes.

(By Godric's mighty sword! The article!)

(That's it! Make it personal. Make it about the war, about fighting for your side, and doing it right!)

"T-thanks, Tonks."

Tonks stared at her, confused. "What for?"

"You've been . . . an inspiration for me." Ginny smiled brightly.

"Well, that's good, I guess," she responded with a chuckle. Tonks swept her feet to the floor and stood up. "Wanna continue this conversation in the kitchen? I'm starving . . . plus," she patted her tummy, "I'm eating for two now."

"Yeah. I'll get Daphne though," Ginny said, thumb pointing up the staircase. "Won't be but a sec!"

Her feet pounded up the stairs, and she threw the door open to her room. Daphne remained seated at the desk, so engrossed in her writing that Ginny's entrance didn't faze her.

"Hey, y'know, I've got so much material here, I might do a series of pamphlets. Probably five for right- . . . er, Ginny?"

Ginny was furiously scribbling sentence after sentence, the words flying out of her, traveling to her quill, given body and shape on the parchment.

She spoke to herself as she wrote, making sure the words flowed directly from her brain to the parchment just as she intended.

" . . . 'A friend once told me that war brings out the worst in ourselves. The words struck me, because my family and my friends are in the middle of this current conflict, and I've watched and observed it from it's very beginning. There were times when I joined in and fought when I needed to.'

"'The war rages on now, and the people I love are not going to stop fighting until the very end.'

"'I wonder about the toll of war on ourselves. We're supposed to be the good side, the protectors of all witches and wizards. But, will there ever come a time when we find ourselves struggling for our own souls? To make sure that we don't fall down or, if we do, will we be able to restore ourselves again?'

"'This friend knows what they're talking about. The final words of this conversation were: if you've gone into battle and you come out alive and you feel like your soul is still intact, then that's a very good start. And I most certainly agree with—'"

"Ginny?"

She looked up. Daphne was standing next to her, a worried look on her face. "Are you all right?"

"I . . . I was downstairs with Tonks and Mum. Did you know she's pregnant?"

Daphne's eyes wend round. Ginny chuckled. "That face just answered my question. Well, she's pregnant. And Lupin's acting funny about it—"

"Funny, how?"

"'Funny' as in not talking to her, clamming up every time she mentions the baby. Something happened when he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione too."

Daphne spluttered. "He saw them?! When? How? What happened?"

"Dunno. Tonks and I started talking about the war and," Ginny shrugged and thrust the parchment towards Daphne, "I got inspired."

The Slytherin girl took the parchment into her hands and started reading the words Ginny had written down in a flurry. A smile grew on Daphne's face, growing bigger and bigger as she absorbed each word.

"It's still pretty rough--"

Daphne held up a finger. Ginny stopped talking.

The Slytherin finished and looked back up. "This? Is really good." She chuckled, a little awestruck. "This is personal and really . . . well, I can't think of another word other than gutsy."

Ginny smiled. "Consider my goal accomplished!"


Ginny marveled how she could read and walk down the precarious set of stairs that led from her room to the Burrow's living room and dining room.

But she couldn't put Daphne's first draft of her article down. It was just so different from anything else she had read, either in The Daily Prophet before the coup or The Quibbler.

"'What Stallsworth considered "good" research, other called manipulative and dangerous. For example, in her article, "Fallacies and Falsehoods: Disproving the Notion that Muggle-borns are Muggles," published in Magical Genetics Today in 1968, Healer Verity Halifax recreated Stallsworth's infamous 'Muggle-born sampling' experiment from 1910. Healer Halifax determined that Stallsworth's experiment could only have worked if he threw out Muggle-borns whose powers developed at an average pace compared to pure-blood and half-blood magical beings. She also concluded that Stallsworth intentionally focused his research on Muggle-borns whose powers developed unusually — but not uncommonly — late and he tainted his pure-blood and half-blood controls by using magical beings that had developed their powers earlier than the average.'

"'We can save the examination about how our society ignores Healers and magical researchers of a certain gender for a later discussion!'"

Ginny paused her read-through of Daphne's article and smiled broadly. "This is . . . I think 'Wow!' and 'Blimey!'are pretty appropriate sentiments."

Daphne grinned. "It sounds all right, then? Understandable? Think your average Hogwarts student might get it?"

"Well, if you're talking about Crabbe and Goyle, my first answer would be no." Ginny looked back down at the parchment and she snorted in amusement. "I really like this passage right here: 'So, kids, what have we learned today? A Muggle killed his parents right in front of Stallsworth, and, consequently sent him into a Muggle-hating spiral that affected his research. He also made sure to "clean up" his research by manipulating the data and exploiting naturally occurring variables in witches and wizards. And he tied everything up in a little red bow and practically handed over to the dark wizards Grindelwald and Lord Little-Dick,'" Ginny chortled, "'everything to "prove" Muggle-born aren't magical beings, which is simply not true!'

"'And yes, Stallsworth was a right tit-head!'" Ginny gave Daphne a huge grin. "Well done! You've managed to combine information and creative insults all into one article."

Daphne took a small but smug bow. "I'm glad to have your seal of approval." She continued grinning. "You think the students'll want to read it?"

"The way you wrote it, it's extraordinarily informative but it's also really entertaining. I mean, if you had written out our History of Magic textbooks, more students would probably have read that too."

"Well, I was trying to go for informative but fun—"

The two girls stopped. Directly in front of them, sitting at the dining room table, were Lee Jordan and Fred and George Weasley.

Lee was explaining something very intensely to Fred and George. The twins were leaning forward, grinning and focusing on every word Lee said. The girls could barely make out the full context of the secretive but enthusiastic conversation; they could hear "passwords" and "transmission" and "wireless signals" being bandied about—

"What're you doing here?" Ginny and Fred and George asked each other simultaneously.

"None of your business!" came the answer from the same speakers.

"We asked you first." Ginny and Daphne both piped up.

Fred, George and Lee all looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Oh, little ones," Fred said in a very condescending voice, "why don't you two go get one of Mum's tea sets and have a nice Earl Grey with some biscuits. Leave the working and thinking up to us men." He thumped his chest with his palm in a masculine manner, intended to be intimidating.

It was entirely the wrong thing for him to have done, because Ginny whipped out her wand, swirled it around quickly in several swift strokes, and uttered, "Bovinus Forma!"

Both of her brothers sprouted pig snouts, hooves and curly tails.

"That's what you get for being chauvinist pigs!" Ginny said casually.

The twins shot out of their seats with a yelp, and Lee stared at them in utter shock — before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Ignoring her brother's expletives aimed at her spellwork, Ginny trained her wand on Lee and waved it at him in a similar motion.

"Quackus Forma!"

Lee jumped up in the air when he realized his mouth and nose were replaced by a duck beak and his hands and feet had turned into flippers.

Daphne chortled as all three blokes tried to hold their wands with their useless animal hands.

"Runt!" George grunted with several oinks, "Ya can't use our own Varmit-Visage Spells on us! That's just not done!"

"We'll — oink – oink – oink — change you into a cockroach if we're not back to normal in 3 – 2 – 1—"

Lee could only quack indignantly.

"Oh can it, Jordan! You were thinking the same things as Doofus and Dorkus were," Ginny huffed at him. She took a seat at the table and skimmed over the plans that Fred, George and Lee had been discussing intensely when Daphne interrupted them.

"What it is, Ginny?" Daphne asked her as she walked over and stood behind her.

"'Potterwatch'?" Ginny looked at Fred and George. "What's this 'Potterwatch' you three are planning?"

The three half-men, half-animal abominations quacked and oinked in angry protest. Without even looking up at them, Ginny flicked her wand at them.

"Finite Incantatem!"

With a muted pop, the twins and Lee Jordan returned to their normal appearances . . . and positively livid expressions.

"We're gonna make sure you regret that, Gin!" Fred and George stormed over to her.

"I never even did anything to you!" Lee exclaimed, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

"Quit your bellyaching and tell me what this is all about." Ginny held up the parchment detailing the project, waving it in their faces impatiently.

"Like we're gonna tell you what that's all about after the stunt you just pulled—" George started. He lunged for the parchment.

Ginny quickly stood up and jumped away from the table, just as Daphne cast a Shield Charm between Ginny and the three angry men.

"Hey!"

"What the f—"

"Oi!"

Daphne leaned over Ginny's shoulders as a fresh chorus of protests came from the other side of the shield. Both girls read through the outline, eyes widening as they moved down the page. Fred, George and Lee's furious shouting dulled to measly protests as the girls looked over their plans.

Ginny finished up the document and stared at her brothers. "This? Is absolutely brilliant!"

"I can't believe you came up with this," Daphne said, snatching the parchment from Ginny. She nodded as she continued to read it over. "This is exactly what we were talking about, Ginny. This is exactly what we need — more "anti – You – Know – Who" voices of dissent! Hey," Daphne turned to face Ginny, "we should tell them about our thing—"

"What? What 'thing'?" Fred snorted. "Our sister does not have a thing!"

"Ginny's not getting involved with any of this anti – You – Know – Who . . . thing." George gave both Daphne and Ginny stormy, dark looks.

Ginny merely waved him off. "Look, Daphne's the one that came up with our own plan, our own bit of anti – You – Know – Who propaganda. And we're working on the students at Hogwarts."

Fred and George both yelled at the girls simultaneously.

"You're too bloody young, Gin—"

"Fred's right! Don't get involved!"

The twins looked at each other. "Mum'll kill us!"

Ginny smirked at the two of them. "I'm already just as involved in this as the both of you are, as the whole family. But Daphne and I aren't gonna use our wands." She looked at Daphne and grinned. "Just words. No wands . . . just words."

Fred and George's wave of angry condescension ebbed to low grumbles. "What do you mean 'just words'?"

Both girls grinned mischievously. "Daphne's decided to take on 'The Healer"."

Fred looked confused. "You're arguing with a dead bloke?" He smirked. "That's hardly a fair fight."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I'm taking on his 'research'." She wriggled her fingers like quotation marks. "I wanted to start with the students at Hogwarts, and convince them that the Healer was wrong."

"How're you gonna do that?" George crossed his arms. "No one's ever gone up against that idiot's ideas . . . well, that I know of."

"That's where you're wrong." Ginny walked over to her brothers and showed them Daphne's article. "She's already done research on this for an, er . . . unofficial project for class."

Daphne raised an eyebrow at Ginny, who merely shrugged.

Fred, George and Lee looked over the document, their eyes moving rapidly over the parchment initially, but then slowing down as they started reading it again. Lee read over each point twice, using his finger to guide the tempo and pace as he examined it.

"Well?" Both girls asked impatiently.

Fred and George let out a breath.

"How did you find all of this information?" Lee asked Daphne.

She shrugged. "You've just gotta know where to look. Like, did you know that the Hogwarts library actually has a fairly extensive archive of research and scholarly documents? That's where I found most of the stuff that discounts Healer Stallsworth's conclusions."

Fred snickered. "I barely knew Hogwarts had a library."

"What're you two planning to do with this then?" Lee looked between the two girls.

Ginny gestured from Daphne toward her brothers with an open palm, allowing the other girl to talk.

"So," Daphne began, "We're planning on distributing pamphlets around Hogwarts when term starts. They're going to be concealed until the reader uses a word or a phrase to unlock it. We'll start with the more loyal of the DA, and enlist their help with talking to the students." Daphne looked over at Ginny.

"We don't think it'll be too much of a problem," she finished, "but we don't really know how far the Ministry'll reach inside of the school."

George nodded at his brother and Lee. "The Ministry controls the Board of Governors—"

"Which is being run by You – Know – Who," came Fred's measured reply.

"Plus, the Ministry's already decreed several times that decisions about the leadership of Hogwarts will be made shortly before term starts," offered Lee. "They're being awfully mum about it, if you ask me."

Fred nodded. "Just because we haven't heard anything about Hogwarts shouldn't mean we should take it for granted." He gave a small nod to Ginny and Daphne. "If you do this, you should take precautions."

"Definitely gotta bad feeling about this," George added.

"Which is why we're going to be using passwords and secret phrases," Ginny said. "Only the people we trust will have it available to them, but they can talk to other students and convince them that all the ideas that the Ministry has about Muggle-borns are one-hundred percent bunk!"

Lee Jordan pointed a finger at the article. "We should use this too."

The four teenagers turned their attention on him.

"This fits right in with Potterwatch." Lee paced in deliberation, pulling at his bottom lip with his fingers as he continued to think. "The Ministry's going after all the Muggle-borns and Muggles that have married into wizarding families — what we need to do is start attacking why. Why they're justifying going after them and throwing them into jail. Daphne's research," Lee said, shaking the parchment for emphasis, "will help us do that. And, Ginny and Daphne and their friends might be able to get information for us inside Hogwarts. Let us know what's going on there, so long as they can find a way to do so that won't be a danger for them."

Fred and George looked at Lee with a dubious expression. Lee shook his head at them.

"They can help. They'll be at the school. If things start getting rough, McGonagall's still there. Other teachers're still there. So long as Snape's not interfering—"

Everyone hissed when Snape's name was mentioned.

"We should also incorporate a segment in where we talk about things like this," Lee piped up once again, waving the parchment in front of his face as if it were a bouncing period, punctuating his statement.

"You two busy right now?" Fred asked, lifting his eyebrow.

Ginny and Daphne shook their heads, determined grins growing on their faces.

"We've got all the time in the world," Ginny said in a low, steady voice. The two girls sat down at the table and Fred, George and Lee joined them, bringing them into their plans for Potterwatch.


Daphne splashed her face with water, and took a big gasp of air.

(Wake – up!)

(Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup!)

For the past six hours at Eddie Carmichael and Blaise Zabini's flat, she had been reading a whole stack of parchments and documents, all critical of Healer Stallsworth's work.

She had also enlisted a protesting and grumbling Blaise to aid her in her seditious quest.

Daphne had engaged in an extensive session of begging and pleading, and it was only when she'd finally declared that Blaise was the most handsome bloke she had even laid eyes upon, and swore (with utter and complete exasperation!) that no other male on the planet could ever approach his devilish good looks that he had finally capitulated and joined her; the entire time he complained that, "This was the absolute last thing I wanted to do on this gorgeous day, Greengrass!"

To which Daphne merely scoffed. "You have my undying loyalty, Zabini."

Now, after sitting on her arse, her eyes sore and tired from perusal of an endless amount of various writings and texts, Daphne was fairly certain that if she even got so much as a whiff of parchment, she would promptly vomit.

"Bugger . . . Bugger, bugger, bugger!"

She finished wiping her face and, uttering a few more choice expletives, threw the washcloth into the wet sink and dragged herself back into the dining room.

On her way back to the table and her work, Daphne hummed slowly to herself the Muggle song that she had grown to love over the past couple of months for reasons completely inexplicable to herself. . . .

"I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwa—"

She stopped.

Right in front of her stood Blaise and Eddie. And they were kissing.

"Whoa!"

They pulled apart, Eddie grinning awkwardly and Blaise blushing, but managing to throw her a very dark look.

Daphne snickered.

"Don't stop on my account, boys. That was a bit naughty but nice, if ya know what I mean." She wriggled her eyebrows at them.

Eddie frowned. "Daphne," he said in a measured voice, "despite contrary belief, we are not a show for your entertainment." He turned back to attend to the beef stew that was currently simmering away on the stovetop.

Daphne held her hands up. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by that." She slid into her chair and picked up her quill. Blaise muttered something about needing air, and he quickly left the room.

Daphne turned around to look at Eddie, who was now the only other occupant in the room. "It's cool, y'know?"

Eddie continued to stir the pot. "What's 'cool'?"

"Well, you. You're cool."

Eddie gave her an odd look, but smiled mildly. "Thank you. I'm glad I've got your seal of approval."

Daphne grinned, and raised an eyebrow, "So Eddie, here you are. You fancy blokes and you're not acting all swishy or anything. You might be a poofter, but you're not shoving it in anyone's face. It's cool that you're like that!"

Daphne started writing with her quill again — when she heard the clatter of the wooden spoon hitting the countertop with unusual force. Turning around, she saw Eddie Carmichael glaring at her with an expression that meant she was in trouble. His bright blue eyes positively sparked with simmering outrage.

"Er. . . was it something I said?"

"First," Eddie said, walking with deliberation toward her, holding up one finger, "just because I do 'fancy blokes' doesn't mean I'm any less of a man. I'm one-hundred percent man. All. Man. Second, something that you should learn, Daphne Greengrass, is you can't just paint people with broad brush strokes."

Daphne was gobsmacked. "What? I just complemented you, you twit—"

"Not really. All you did was demonstrate a lack of basic understanding about human beings."

"The hell?"

Eddie sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look, comments like the one you made make me feel that I'm just 'gay', or that I'm expected to act a certain way because that fits in with what people think about with someone who's gay." He looked at her and shrugged in tired resignation. "I'm 'Eddie'. I'm a bloke who's from a wealthy family, who wants to be a Healer, who put way too much faith in dried doxy dung brain elixirs to pass his O.W.L.S., and whose significant other just happens to be another bloke! So no! I'm not just cool because I don't act a certain way. I'm just Eddie." Eddie flung out his arms, opening himself up to Daphne. "It's a part of me, but it's not what I'm all about. Blaise is a bloke whose significant other is another bloke, but you know that's not what he's all about!"

Daphne felt herself shrinking backward. "I – I, er . . . didn't mean--"

Eddie waved his hand in front of his face. "No, but you still steered dangerously close to stereotyping me." He pointed at the pile of papers on the table. "You should work on how you look at other people. Especially before you go about trying to change the world."

And with that, Eddie returned to his now boiling pot of beef stew. He turned down the heat.

"Besides, I'd rather be cool as in fighting a dragon's cool, or like traveling around the world's cool," he said in a less aggravated voice.

Nevertheless, the conversation had left Daphne red-faced and a bit shell-shocked with her own misconceptions about Eddie, Blaise and the rest of the world.