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𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊
Act III - Birth Of The Demon
Chapter 23: Perfection And Stagnation
"Thank you for accepting our invitation and indulging our curiosity."
Harry shook Theodore Nott's hand. Just as Daphne had intimated, she had arranged a meeting with a group of interested people whose politics matched with Daphne's own interests. It was a Sunday afternoon, and despite Fleur's initial hesitance, she had ended up coming to this meeting, as his friend if nothing else. Daphne had warned the girl from pulling any shenanigans, because Harry would be judged accordingly, if he chose to defend the actions of a 'friend' even if she, for any reason, insulted his 'fiance'.
Fleur had just blown her an air-kiss, much to the latter's consternation.
"Curiosity," he repeated. "I suppose that's one way of describing it."
"Perhaps," Daphne began, "we should start with introducing everyone—"
"That's hardly necessary," said seventh-year Slytherin Rowan Haywood," smirking at Harry. "The professor knows all of our names, I think."
He did. He had made a point to ask for everyone's names from every year's batch. It was human nature to doubt what you didn't know, what you didn't understand, and the first step to understanding something or someone was to know its name, or give it or them one. It was a subtle thing, but like all things magic, names too, had power, and more importantly, they had psychological power. And as a professor, Harry found it incredibly easier to deal with students who were his seniors, when he was able to single them out by calling their names.
"Rowan Haywood and Elizabeth Rosier, seventh-year Slytherin, prefects I believe," recited Harry. "Byron Yaxley, sixth year Slytherin; Alicia Fawley, sixth-year Hufflepuff; Eleanor Burke, seventh-year Ravenclaw, we met at my birthday party," he went on, shaking hands with every single person. "Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott, fifth-year Slytherins with whom I share classes; Andrew Wilkes, sixth-year Ravenclaw; and finally, Raleigh Selwyn, seventh-year Slytherin."
"Va bene," said Zabini. "That was a little unexpected. I did not expect the Boy-Who-Lived to remember everyone's names like that."
"You wouldn't expect the Boy-Who-Lived to be sitting with Slytherins either, but here I am."
"Touche."
"Technically, it was my sister Edith that was interested in this meeting, Potter," said Andrew Wilkes. "But as I'm the heir, so…"
"That isn't an issue. I'm sure we can accommodate one more person here," said Harry.
"No, that's completely fine. She was quite adamant that I attend this meeting in her place."
Daphne looked at him and smiled, as everyone took their seats.
"I have to say, Potter," said Raleigh Selwyn. "I did not expect this much cordiality from you. But then, I did not expect you to teach DADA for all seven years without any bias either. If nothing else, consider me intrigued and impressed by that."
"My Head of House is Minerva McGonagall," said Harry. "I'm just emulating her."
There was a hint of dark amusement in the other boy's dark eyes. "Professor McGonagall is also a rigid supporter of the Headmaster. Does that mean you are Dumbledore's man through and through?"
"I'm emulating her in the role of an educator. As for Professor Dumbledore, he has his ways, I have mine. Sometimes they don't mesh, but that doesn't mean I don't respect him."
"Cute wordplay, Potter," said Nott. "But might we dispense with the usual song and dance and be blunt about this?"
Harry blinked. "Dispense by all means, Nott. I was just trying to be courteous. Daphne tells me Slytherins love song and dance."
Daphne snorted. "Play nice, Harry."
Harry smirked at her, before turning to Nott. "Professor Dumbledore is a great man that has done a lot for this nation. Do I think he's flawed and makes mistakes like every other human being? Yes. Do I think he's always right and every word that comes out of his mouth is gospel. No. Could Albus Dumbledore have done more for the wizarding world with all his power and authority? Yes. Did he do that because he had some diabolical motive behind it? No."
He looked at Nott. "Now, I'm just a fifteen-year-old that's been forced to step into some very large shoes. I'm Lord Potter because my father isn't alive. Lord Sirius Black is my godfather, and a magical parent, which is how I'm the heir of House Black. And my sole connection to House Greengrass is through my grandmother that I've never had the chance to meet. If it were up to me, I'd just be a regular fifth-year student, attend classes, play pranks, date around, you know, things that everyone else does. The kind of life my father led."
He laughed, inwardly wondering how Snape would've reacted to that statement.
"But I'm not. I have responsibilities. So I accept them, even if it forces me to play adult games. Again, not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice."
"Is that your reason for taking up the DADA position?" asked Elizabeth Rosier. "Because you had no choice?"
"Not exactly," said Harry. "William Weasley and the other curse breakers shared with us just how diabolical the curse was. Professor Dumbledore's theory was that my unique thaumaturgy is an effective counter to the curse without me risking my life. Or so he tells me. Naturally, I fully expect things to get blown up sky-high."
Nott guffawed. "Good one."
"Saint Potter's to the rescue, as Draco would say," Blaise pointed out.
Harry chuckled. "Not a saint. Just the lucky lamb that won't be slaughtered while the curse-breakers track the origins of the curse and neuter it for good."
"You still didn't have to take it," Andrew pointed out.
"I know."
"What do you get in return? Power? Position? More fame?"
Harry laughed. "Nothing so silly. I don't need power. I am satisfied with my own. Position? I've already gotten stuck with the Lordship of Potter, heirship of Black, and in the near future," he glanced at Daphne from the corner of his eye, "Lord of House Greengrass. I'm also a Warlock and that means working with the Department of Mysteries after I pass out of Hogwarts. Honestly, it'd be nice if I could drop a position or two."
Several among them laughed.
"As for fame… I went from someone raised by people that taught me that Magic wasn't real, to being the Boy-Who-Lived overnight when I came to Diagon Alley the first time at the age of eleven. Trust me, I'd be happy to never get an ounce of fame for the rest of my life."
"Then… why?" asked Rosier.
"Do I need to have a reason?" He asked. "They wanted help. It was within my ability to give. Simple as that."
He became acutely aware of both Fleur and Daphne looking at him.
"Obviously," said Zabini, glancing at Fleur. "He's a Gryffindor for a reason."
Harry pursed his lips, and decided to play a little. "Well, not just because I'm a Gryffindor. Come to think of it, I do have one benefit from this."
"Well, knock me over with a feather," joked Haywood. "The Boy-Who-Lived isn't a goody-two-shoes."
"Like taking over the school like the Ministry claims?" asked Rosier.
"Hardly," said Harry. "I just have a personal slight against the man responsible for the DADA curse."
That got everyone's attention. Even Daphne and Fleur were giving him strange looks.
No surprises there. He hadn't quite shared this little titbit with them either.
"You know who the caster is?" asked Haywood. Even Rosier sat up straighter.
"Why yes," said Harry as casually as he could. "It's no one but the vaunted Dark Lord that many of your families follow and worship as a Master."
"The Dark Lord—" began Haywood.
"Isn't that a bit too coincidental, Potter?" asked Wilkes. "First you claimed that the Dark Lord is back, then you claimed that he's actually the child of a squib and a muggle, and now you claim he's responsible for the curse. One might think you're just using his name as a convenient scapegoat to blame everything on."
"Have you met Voldemort?" asked Harry, and prepared himself for the shrieks that followed. "Oh, come on, fine. Tom Riddle. I'm not sure how many of you have had the misfortune, but he isn't exactly the guy that invites you over for a meal and offers you tea and biscuits."
Several among them snorted.
"Let's answer your questions in order, shall we?" said Harry, sitting straighter, knowing that he was commanding the attention of every single person in the room. "Tom Riddle is back, and if you're refusing to believe that, despite your sister being in Slytherin House, then either you're a fool that believes in Skeeter's trash, or you're just pretending or acting in bad faith. As for his origins, I paid Gringotts to get his inheritance results. It might not mean much to old wealthy families, but to muggleborn Tom Riddle, seventeen galleons meant a lot of money."
"And the curse?" asked Burke.
"Tom Riddle applied for the position of the Defence Against The Dark Arts professor in 1967. Professor Dumbledore, quite naturally, refused him, knowing his past as an apprentice to necromancer Victor Rookwood and working with the dark wizard Sebastian Sallow —"
"Sebastian Sallow," murmured Alicia Fawley, "I know that name. He was my grandfather's second cousin."
"Small world," said Harry. "The curse was identified shortly after that. We, that is, myself and Professor Dumbledore, believe that Tom Riddle did that because he was an egotistical bastard that didn't want the future generations to be taught how to defend against the Dark and grow up weak, and incompetent. And then he'd swoop down, as he did, a couple of years down the line, attracting students from Hogwarts and predominantly Slytherin House, offering power and magic that the School professors would never be able to teach them. It's what he always does, prey upon the weak, and show himself as strong. No wonder Daddy Malfoy emulated him, and raised his little brat in the same fashion."
This time everyone laughed.
"Naturally, given how the man's been interfering with my education, and is the reason for nearly everything that went wrong with my life, I took offence to that."
"You really think you can stand against him, don't you?" asked Wilkes, giving him an intense look.
"Wow," drawled Harry. "Weren't you just floating the idea that the Dark Lord was dead earlier?"
Andrew had the decency to look embarrassed.
It doesn't matter if I'm strong enough to defeat him or not. It's true that he's got decades of experience, and is a necromancer and unparalleled in the Dark Arts. At least, in Britain. Compared to that, all I've got is above-average reserves and a brand of thaumaturgy that happens to be quite lethal against him. That and luck, lots of it. But I've survived, and that's what matters. I think that the Dark Lord is nothing more than a rabid psychopath that only wants to destroy everything, and I've got too many things to lose. Whether I win, whether I lose, I'm gonna fight for what's mine. Take that as you will."
"And what if he leaves your loved ones alone?" asked Selwyn, looking at Daphne peripherally. "The Greengrass family is neutral, and Nobility to boot. As is House Black, and most recently, House Potter. The Dark Lord is the Champion of Pureblood Supremacy. Say he decides to leave your loved ones alone, will you still wage war against him?"
"Funny you mention that," said Harry. "Your Dark Lord gave me the same offer, back in that cemetery. He asked me to join him. We ended up disagreeing."
He stood up from his chair. "That man does not care about your precious pureblood elitism any more than I care about winning the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. He does not want to lead you into some twisted, delusional pureblood utopia. Neither does he want to grant you the world you envision. He fuels you with hatred against half-breeds, twists laws in the Ministry prosecuting vampires, werewolves and veela, and then uses that same discrimination to turn the vampires and werewolves into joining his side, and uses them against those that stand against him. He claims to get rid of muggleborns, yet he's the one responsible for over half of our Ancient Houses dying in the war."
Nobody said anything this time around. No quip. No retort. Absolutely nothing.
"Look," said Harry. "I don't care if you're pureblood, halfblood, muggle born or creature. I don't care if you have ten generations of magical blood in your bloodline, or just plain muggle blood. I don't care if you're centaur, or elf, or goblin. What I do care about is if you have magical blood in you."
"And what about muggles?" asked Yaxley. "No one here is ignorant of the fact that the muggles that raised you treated you ill. At the same time, you hang out with that muggle-lover's spawn, and that know-it-all."
"I've no idea who you're talking about."
"Bah! Fine. The Weasleys, and Granger."
"Thank you," said Harry stiffly. "I'm sure you wouldn't like it if I called you a Death Eater spawn either, would you? Or if I claimed that you were descended from a House of Rapists, murderers and psychopaths with vaults full of blood money."
"Potter," snapped Yaxley, standing up. "I'm not here to listen to you insulting my family's good name."
"Harry—" Daphne began, but Harry raised a hand, shutting her off.
"Good," he said. "Just like I'm not here to listen to you prattle on and insult my friends and people I care for. You called for a meeting, where we could be professional and act as adults. Do not expect me to stand down and ignore the insults to my friends, just because Daphne is my fiance."
"Harry, please —" Daphne tried again. "We can —"
"We can compromise only with those that can be compromised with, Daphne," he told her off, his tone filled with ice, and strong as steel. He met Yaxley's eyes. "Yes, I'm marrying her. Yes, I'm the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. I'll be the first to say that I'm not without faults, but I'm open to learning. But don't you think for a second that I'll let others walk over me."
"Potter—" Nott began.
"I wasn't finished," said Harry. "Contrary to what you might think, I am not blind to Hermione's faults. Yes, she's outspoken, and yes, she needs to learn to practice moderation, and needs to understand both sides of the context, before throwing out her own opinion. That will be made very clear. Daphne and Hermione often end up arguing. Ask her if I've ever taken her side unless it was for a sound reason."
Daphne shook her head.
"But on the other side," said Harry. "It's also true that the purebloods have gotten to bully muggleborns for a long time, and you might think you have the right. I say you don't."
"Potter—"
"Yaxley," said Haywood. "Shut up! Please. You can't expect to call his best friends names in front of him and not expect him to react."
"He also insulted my House."
"Because you started it first," Haywood snapped. Turning to Harry, he sighed. "Please do not mind him."
"I think we're digressing from the matter at hand," said Fawley. "We were talking about your stance against muggles."
"I've talked with Greengrass about this before," said Rosier, giving Daphne a weird look. "She said you understood why traditionalists have such a negative stance about muggles. She told me you are not unaware of the deteriorating effects that muggles have on Magic and the world on the whole."
"I did," stressed Daphne.
"You have grown up amidst muggles. Surely you know of the devastation and pollution of the last two world wars? The massive loss of lives. The rampant and utter destruction of nature because of muggles seeking power and destruction of each other? Potter, I understand your concerns about the abuse of muggleborns, and perhaps, we can even reach a compromise on that, but surely you accept the fact that muggles, despite their technology, are barbaric and will lead the world to a magic-less, empty existence? Just look at how they treat their own kind. Look at how they treated you."
"You say that as though wizards have never mistreated wizards."
Her eyes narrowed. "That is not the point."
"That is precisely the point," he pressed. "What society doesn't have its criminals? What culture doesn't have people that cause mayhem and destruction? They've got Hitler. We've Voldemort. They dropped atomic bombs that destroyed entire muggle cities. Voldemort led a movement that destroyed half the Ancient Houses in Britain."
"You would speak in favour of muggles over your own kind?" asked Selwyn, tilting his head.
"I am not," said Harry calmly. "I do not have to side with them just because some of their actions make sense. Much like the same way I'm not judging all of you because of something that some of your family members might have done in the recent past. My apologies, but I try to avoid being a hypocrite whenever I can."
"And you saying that we are?" asked Selwyn. His tone had just gotten colder. Harry wondered if he was going to join Yaxley against him.
"I'm saying those that live inside glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Yes, muggle society is faulty. Yes, they are destructive. Yes, they have acted against us wizards in the past. But wizards have done the same if not worse. We cannot judge them for the crimes they commit when we are guilty of the same. That's why it's hypocritical."
"Then what would you have us do?" asked Nott. Curiously enough, Harry didn't find any trace of annoyance or sarcasm in his tone.
Harry looked at Daphne, and then at Fleur. The former was looking startled while the latter looked ready to draw wands at any point of time. Byron Yaxley looked like he was one step from declaring an honour duel, while Rosier looked plain annoyed. The rest of them were wearing a variety of expressions ranging from abject curiosity to prejudice.
He exhaled.
"Salazar Slytherin believed in the power of Miraculum Operarius. Despite being descended from the Gaunts, he did not boast of the Gaunt Family Magic, and instead, sought to create his own Family Magic. He believed that Magic had endless potential, and this potential must be harnessed, for the benefit of all magicals and society as a whole. Regardless of his disagreement with Godric Gryffindor, he believed in that philosophy till his deathbed. How do I know all that? Because I read his memoirs in the Chamber of Secrets written by Slytherin himself in Parseltongue."
He was not fibbing. He had actually found them in the Lair, and was interested in knowing the mind of the man whose life story was shrouded in so much controversy and mystery.
"What's that got to—" Yaxley began, but Rosier grabbed his arm, stopping him from interfering.
"Like I said during my Ascension to Lord Potter at the Wizengamot," Harry went on. "In the old days, great witches and wizards would often set qualifications for someone to inherit their lines, their legacies, deeming accomplishments and a person's attributes far more valuable than blood. They did not care if the apprentice was the son of a muggle, or the daughter of another Clan lord. Witches and wizards spent a lifetime building up great actions and deeds, or conversely, ill actions and deeds, and crafted a legacy behind their names. That is why you had Family Magic created in the past, not by one, but thirteen clans. That is why they made such staggering discoveries, miraculous inventions, such mystical craftsmanship that today's witches and wizards take pride in. That's why they hear the Founders and Merlin being taken in the same air as muggles do for their gods and goddesses. But can you name any witch or wizard in recent history that has achieved the same heights? Anybody?"
"The Dark Lord—" began Yaxley.
"Is nothing but a bully that couldn't even successfully lead a revolution within a country, even with half the Wizengamot on his side. If you have to make a point, Yaxley, please make one that doesn't make you look like an idiot."
The boy scowled.
"Well?" demanded Harry. "Anyone here? No? Well let me tell you why. Because today's generations have started to care more about their lineage than their own accomplishments, choosing to revel in what they've gotten from their ancestors instead of providing a platform for their progeny for higher greatness. Instead of accepting the fact that some muggleborn can be better than a pureblood in studies or her understanding of magic, we call her a mudblood. We cast aspersions that serve little purpose other than to serve our own bruised egos instead of acknowledging the fact that we weren't good enough."
He looked at Nott. "Remember what Draco said during the duels? My name speaks for itself! As if his entire accomplishment was to be born and take breath in a Malfoy house! Ridiculous!"
"Potter!" said Nott softly. "Please do not judge everyone based on Malfoy."
"And I thought I explained to you what mudblood truly means," said Daphne uneasily.
"You did," agreed Harry. "But what difference does it make when ninety percent of the other side will treat it as a slur to denigrate someone for their blood? What do you have them do? Ask for confirmation? Excuse me sir, are you insulting me because I rejected your traditions, or are you simply biassed against my ancestry?"
That shut Daphne up.
"I wasn't," said Harry. "And yet it all came down to talking about blood traitors and muggleborns. If you all would rather busy yourself fighting for meaningless things instead of actually accomplishing something to immortalise your names for the future progenies, then I'm afraid, we have nothing to talk about."
"And how would we go about doing that, Potter?" asked Zabini.
"Why, exactly what the muggles do," said Harry. "They don't have magic, but that doesn't stop them from growing bigger, better, more industrious. We have the potential of bringing fantasy into reality, we call ourselves perfect, and yet, we stagnate and busy ourselves in fighting against our own kind. We refuse to expand our horizons in nearly everything. The DMLE protects us from Dark wizards and other threats, yet the DMLE is always the first that gets budget cuts every year. Hell, my own workshop demanded support from Minister Fudge, even though its discoveries would make Britain proud. Do you know what that man did? He rejected it."
"The Department des Mysteries did fund it, 'Arry," Fleur pointed out.
"Yes, with five thousand galleons," Harry snapped. "Just piddling five thousand galleons. And don't forget, even the DOM gets its budget cut every year. If not for ICW support, it would probably be another do-nothing department of the Ministry. Hell, I myself offered to fund the workshop myself, but I cannot, because my research belongs to the government, the same government that isn't even willing to fund it."
Nobody voiced any opinion against that.
"The muggles have technology for entertainment and communications. Yet we are still stuck to using owls and the floo network. We've gotten so used to maintaining the status quo that we don't even want to upgrade ourselves. The muggles have satellites that can telecast any region on the entire planet and gain information. We? We depend on a freaking newspaper that publishes whatever is in season for the Ministry agenda. There are a billion people out there that don't have magic, and yet they are developing their world, shaping it in their image? We? We're just happy to sit tight in our old mansions, rejecting everything, and dreaming over the accomplishments of our ancestors."
"That's some pretty outrageous things you're saying there, Potter," said Haywood.
"Good. It's about time somebody did. Tell me, Haywood. The muggles put a man on the moon decades ago, but why haven't we wizards done anything like that?"
"Don't be stupid," claimed Selwyn. "We can get to the moon anytime we want. Only problem is that no one's been there before, so we don't have the coordinates."
"And don't you think that something must be done about it? There are so many planets outside the world, an entire universe waiting for exploration. The planets affect our lives, our powers, our… mysteries. Are you really telling me that you're content to either study them in Astronomy class or pretend that it's nothing but some cosmic wallpaper existing so that others might appreciate its beauty?"
"I don't know, 'Arry," said Fleur. "Nothing wrong with a little appreciation of beauty."
"Not helping."
"Was I supposed to?" Her innocent smile completely contradicted the situation.
"Wasn't that why you were here in the first place?" He pointed out sceptically.
"Oh I don't know, Harry," murmured Daphne. "I thought she'd be the one creating a mess. But you do it just fine by yourself."
Nott snorted at that.
"Regardless," said Daphne. "He has a point. Look at the workshop he's working on. Even the Department of Mysteries claims that it will bring about a breakthrough, and change the way we look at Magic forever. It's better to advance our world, and enrichen it, rather than remaining stuck in pointless wars."
"You realise he's painting Traditionalism as pointless," Rosier pointed out.
"Non," said Fleur. "'E's not. 'E's talking of resurrecting our true traditions, and making clan names worth more zan the number of generations they 'ave been for. Unless… traditionalists are all about 'ating muggles and spreading bigotry?"
"Delacour—" Daphne began heatedly.
"I think," interrupted Nott. "This meeting has been quite… illuminating." He looked at everyone knowingly, "and I believe… I speak for the entire group here. You've raised some really good points, and some pointy ones too…"
Fawley snorted out loud.
" — But I suppose we'll need some time to digest things and get back at you," he finished.
Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't expect otherwise. It would be kind of stupid if we all just decided stuff over a single discussion. It was nice meeting you all too."
"Whatever happens," said Nott. "I wouldn't mind discussing things further, Potter. You look like the kind that likes to rock the boat. Keeps things interesting."
Harry grinned. "Don't need it. Things just keep happening to me."
Burke laughed. "That they do."
Harry smiled at her, and then nodded at Yaxley. "I apologise if I was a little too blunt with words, Yaxley. Gryffindor, you know."
Yaxley grunted, but otherwise didn't say anything.
"That you are, Potter," said Selwyn. "And much more. We traditionals believe in upholding the past, and though your own points resonate with ours, you are a little too liberal in your way of thinking. And I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing."
Harry gave him a half-shrug. "Let me know whatever you end up deciding to hate me. I'll need to add you to the list. I'm planning on having a party for the members soon."
Selwyn grinned. "You are not what you appear to be, and what you are… I don't know, to be honest. But your words… they are not Dumbledore's words for sure, but they aren't extremists either. You seek for radical changes, but you draw inspiration from our ancestors. I believe there are people out there who would be interested in meeting you."
"Meeting me?"
"Oh yes," said Selwyn, turning to Rosier. "Your sister's engagement, when was it again?"
Her eyes went wide, as she instantly recognized what he was hinting about. "Oh, on the fifth of December. Of course, I was going to issue invitations formally, but Daphne, you are most cordially invited. As are you, Potter. Both as Lord Potter and Heir Black, of course."
"Engagement…" murmured Harry.
"Yes, my elder sister Abigail is getting married to a Spanish pureblood family. The reception will be held in Valencia. You will find a lot of known faces there, Potter."
She turned to Daphne, and grabbed her shoulders softly. "You must come. Aunt Narcissa will be there from the third. It'd be really nice if you'd join her."
"Narcissa… Narcissa Malfoy?" asked Harry. "She's your aunt?"
Elizabeth grinned. "Her mother was Druella Rosier, only child of Vina Rosier, right hand of Grindelwald. Aunt Narcissa puts a lot more stock in her Rosier bloodline and the Black name, than being the Malfoy matriarch. She wouldn't miss the wedding for anything."
That took him by surprise.
Daphne snorted. "I can't say I blame her. I'd be annoyed too if my husband made me bleach my hair just so I can look like his bloody sister."
"Don't worry," said Fleur sweetly, and Harry felt a tinge of danger around the corner. "'Arry won't need to do that to you. You're his second cousin already, non?."
Daphne scowled, but before she could retort, Rosier interrupted. "And of course, Mademoiselle Delacour, you too are most cordially invited. House Delacour and House Rosier have been in alliance for a long time."
Fleur blinked. "Oui, but I zon't think —"
"Yes," said Blaise. "She'll attend." He met her eyes. "Mother has asked her to attend. She also said that… it would be a good opportunity to meet the famous Harry Potter as well. Especially if she's…"
His eyes flickered to Harry's face. "...being serious."
Fleur narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
"...Okay," said Harry, feeling incredibly awkward. "As glad as I am to be invited, I will have to consult my godfather first before I can accept this invitation."
"Of course," said Elizabeth. "I will send the official invitation by owl. Though, if you do decide to join, do let me know."
"I will."
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