You know how in all those movies and stuff everyone thinks dating is the best thing ever? Like it's the be-all and end-all of existence? Yeah, I'm starting to think Hollywood made that part up. I know I should be enjoying dating Hermione, but I'm really not. Now you might be thinking to yourself, Harry, is it really a smart idea to be complaining about your love life on this blog which Hermione might be reading? Well, for starters, I don't see why you're asking that question when you know that sort of thing has never stopped me before. But moreover, Hermione doesn't read this blog anymore. Something about plausible deniability. In fact, when I asked her yesterday if she's read my blog lately, she pretended she had no idea what a blog even was. It was super persuasive!

I don't know if it's just me or her or both, but Hermione makes me so uncomfortable these days. She's super clingy and constantly asking weird questions. And she giggles, like, all the time, as if she was Tracey or something. It's freaky. It's like she stepped out of Mean Girls. (Actually, I'm just assuming that. I never saw that movie; I've just heard about it through meme osmosis.) Remus thinks Hermione is trying to adjust to an unfamiliar role, that of someone in a romantic relationship, by emulating what she sees of teen girls in media. Well, I don't like it. I miss the old Hermione who regularly roasts people on a regular basis, constructs super elaborate and sometimes very illegal revenge plots for fun, and might or might not be a tiny bit of a sociopath, following in the footsteps of her parents. With, you know, their dentistry.

A lot of you are probably thinking, Harry, you're being so whiny and ungrateful. Can't you just appreciate what you have? Well, no. That's not my thing, first of all. Second of all, I'm honestly insulted Hermione thinks she has to change so much to make me happy. I'm not some stereotypical Reddit "nice guy." I respect women's rights and women's wrongs. This saccharine version of Hermione isn't the girl I got a crush on.

Sigh. Well, enough moping. Maybe Hermione just needs time to settle in. Maybe I should be more considerate. After all, she's just gone through an absolutely horrific ordeal. And her parents are no closer to getting their memories back than when we started. They're trying to go through official channels to get them restored, but their requests are getting lost in the bureaucracy, even with Hestia calling in favors to get the process expedited. It's not clear to any of us whether this is being done on purpose. My best guess is no, but who can say? If I'd had to deal with all that, maybe I'd develop weird coping mechanisms too. Thank goodness I'm such a pinnacle of sanity.

But I'm not the only one who thinks something is wrong. I was minding my own business when out of nowhere, someone hit me with a Petrificus Totalus spell. So there I am freaking out and thinking I'm about to die when Marcus Flint starts hovering over me. (Metaphorically. He wasn't like, literally hovering in the air. This is not normally something I'd clarify, but he's the Slytherin Quidditch captain and so he could have been hovering on a broomstick.) Now I can't say I've had much opportunity to interact with Flint. He's laser focused on Quidditch. Obsessed with it. According to Percy, he puts Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch captain, to shame. So generally anyone or anything not related to Quidditch isn't on his radar.

"What did you do to her?" Flint thundered.

I had no idea what he was talking about, so I said nothing. Also, I couldn't move, so I couldn't have said anything anyway. A few seconds later, Flint must have realized that, because he dispelled the, uh, spell and I could move again. But I still had no clue what he was talking about.

"You're talking about Hermione?" I guessed.

Flint pointed his wand square at my forehead. "Yes, I'm talking about Hermione! Our star Seeker! Who doesn't seem able to Seek anymore! She's completely lost her edge. And whenever something happens to her, chances are very good you are involved!"

This was, it had to be admitted, sound logic but to the best of my knowledge it was still wrong. "I didn't do anything to her. She had a very bad summer. Her parents got Obliviated by mistake so they don't remember her anymore." Though Hermione's arrest was a matter of public record, it hadn't made the news and I didn't want to spread it around if I could help it.

"Bad summer, my left and right foot!" Flint sneered. "Pain only strengthens a Quidditch player." That would definitely explain a lot about what I've heard about Flint's training methods from Hermione. "People reveal who they are on a broom and it's as if she's become someone else."

I froze. For a single, wild second, I had a terrifying thought. What if Dobby had replaced Hermione with a changeling? He was, after all, one of the fae and they were infamous for such things. If that was a changeling I was dating…that would explain a ton about Hermione's recent behavior. Like why her personality seems to have done a complete 180. But then I realized how silly the idea was. Why in God's name would Dobby replace Hermione with a changeling? To kill me? I think not. If that was the goal, I'd be dead already.

"Look, Flint, if you have a problem with Hermione, I suggest you say it to her face instead of going to her boyfriend behind her back."

Flint grabbed my arm. "You don't understand how important this is. Look, Potter, I don't care if she's gotten replaced by a pod person."

"Wait, how do you know that reference?"

"She's could be one of the Elder Gods for all I care. All that matters is that she can play Quidditch." I just gave him a deadpan stare. "You don't understand the importance of Quidditch."

Truth be told, I did not. I wanted to, very badly, since my girlfriend and late dad were both Quidditch players. But I can't say I understand the appeal, no matter how hard I try. "Try me."

Flint seemed lost for words for a few moments. "Look, are you familiar with Platonic idealism?"

"I am not breaking up with Hermione."

"No, not that kind of platonic. Platonic as in Plato. Plato postulated that every single piece of matter in the physical world is merely a pale shadow, an imitation of an ideal form, the non-physical, timeless, absolute, and unchangeable essence of all things."

How does he know this stuff? "How do you know this stuff?"

Flint rolled his eyes. "It's basic metaphysics, the problem of universals, Potter. Try to keep up. The point I'm trying to make is that this is the case for everything in the entire universe except Quidditch, because it's perfect the way it is. That's how important it is. It's the most important thing in the entire universe. Humans evolved and were imbued with magic for the sole purpose of leading us to the game of Quidditch."

I started to back away. "Yeah…okay, man."

"If you did something to throw Hermione off her game, I'm going to rip your intestines out of you bit by excruciating bit and suffocate you with them. And that's if I'm feeling merciful."

I couldn't help but let out a squeak of fright. "Right…I'll just be going." And with those words, I just unceremoniously up and ran for it. I was convinced Flint was going to start firing spells at me, so I just booked it and then I collided headfirst with someone. It took me a few seconds to realize I had ran into Professor Sinistra. Talk about rotten luck!

"Excuse me for a second, Mr. Potter; I think I broke my hip," Professor Sinistra said mildly. I was freaking out inside. Old people and breaking hips is always a recipe for disaster and Professor Sinistra makes ancient people look like spring chickens. She waved her wand at the afflicted area and then stood up, no worse for wear. "Not to worry. I'm all good now. A good healing spell a day keeps Madam Pomfrey away, that's what I always say."

"Sorry, Professor Sinistra," I said. "I should have looked where I was going. Flint's on the warpath."

Professor Sinistra nodded sagely. "Say no more. He has his moments sometimes, doesn't he? He can be very eccentric, but he knows how to win games. And very little else, if I may be candid." Given that he'd just unloaded some very high end philosophy on me, I had a hunch Flint had been keeping a lot under his hat. Well, I wasn't going to rat him out. I'm not a snitch. To authority, that is. The random strangers who read this blog, well, that's another story entirely. "I was hoping I'd run into you, actually."

"Kind of a be careful what you wish for scenario, then, don't you think?"

I was worried for a few seconds by the menacingly blank look on Professor Sinistra's face that I'd gone too far, but about a minute later, she burst out laughing. "Quite. What do you know about a club called the Muggleborn-Pureblood Alliance?"

The answer was absolutely nothing. "Is that like a Gay-Straight Alliance?"

"In actuality and by sheer coincidence, the principle is remarkably similar! I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. During the war against Voldemort, it was shut down and never restarted." For a second, I was surprised Professor Sinistra used Voldemort's name, but then I realized that it's hard to be scared of someone you blasted into space without a moment's thought. "The purpose of the club is to build bridges between those raised by Muggles and those raised by mages, increasing knowledge of both worlds. I am planning to restart it and I would appreciate it if you would participate. This is a suggestion, not an order."

It was an interesting idea. I'm all in favor of increasing pureblood knowledge of the Muggle world, if only so more people will understand what I'm referencing and not look at me like I'm a lunatic. Well, for the references anyway. And it also can't be denied Muggleborns are at a disadvantage when it comes to understanding magical culture and society, just because they didn't grow up in this culture. Hogwarts used to have classes for that in the days of the Muggle Renaissance, but they were removed in the leadup to the war by the blood purist board. Nowadays, things are better but the blood purists have just enough of a hold on the board so the classes won't return, though not enough to make things too much worse.

"Isn't it possible some people might just show up to the club because they want to meet the famous Harry Potter?"

"Yes. That's why I'm asking you." Right. Of course. That makes sense. Still, I didn't like the idea of being just a pawn in Professor Sinistra's schemes, no matter how important they are. "It's not just because of that," she added much more gently. "You're charismatic and popular on your own merits, Harry. You think outside the box. If anyone can get the club back off the ground, it's you. And there is some symmetry in the matter. You see, it was your grandfather, Fleamont Potter, who originally founded the club."

Whoa. That definitely put a fresh spin on things. I didn't know much about my family. No one talks about them much and I don't tend to ask because I'm the type of person who likes to live in the present rather than dwell on something I'll never have. But of course I'm curious. What orphan isn't curious about his family? I certainly didn't have any desire to know about Mum's parents. Anyone who could raise Petunia was not worth my time. But Dad's parents? Now that was a different story.

"What was he like?"

"Your grandfather?" Professor Sinistra asked, sounding surprised I'd even asked the question. "I'm afraid I can't really give you a good answer. I was merely the Astronomy teacher back then, if you'll recall. I can't recall a single conversation we had outside of normal teacher-student interaction. The only detail I can give you is that he was abysmal at Astronomy. Unlike you. Though I still maintain your grades could be better if you applied yourself better."

I winced. "I'm trying…" I muttered.

Professor Sinistra nodded. "Certainly. In any event, Fleamont was a fearsome advocate for the rights of Muggleborns, a trait he no doubt passed onto your father. I believe he died of some illness near the start of the war, though I may be misremembering. I'm sure Mr. Lupin knows much more about him than I. So what do you think?"

"I think you're right. I'll ask him."

Professor Sinistra gave a long suffering sigh. "I mean about the club, Mr. Potter. I believe it will be an important factor in restoring the reputation Slytherin once possessed, a priority of yours, I am given to understand."

"I'll give it a shot," I decided. "But if it's too much for me, I'm out."

"Fair enough. Thank you for your help."

Over the next few days, Hermione started acting even stranger. I kept catching her writing in that diary she found in her cell. For some unaccountable reason, she kept hiding it from me. I totally get the need for privacy, but why did she feel the need to pretend she didn't even keep a diary at all? Her focus on how I survived the Killing Curse became something of an obsession, even for Hermione.

And when I confronted her about what Flint had to say, she just burst into tears and accused me of being against her. In front of everyone in the common room! I've never been so embarrassed in all my life. I've never seen her act like this before! Honestly, I hate to admit this and I feel terrible about it, but if being in a relationship has turned Hermione into a different person entirely, changed her for the worse, then I might have to break up with her. I'd rather have not date the old Hermione than date the new Hermione. I don't like this version of Hermione. She makes me more and more uncomfortable by the day. I'm not an expert in love, but that's…probably not a good sign, right?

After what felt like the millionth time banding about theories on how I survived the Killing Curse, Ron came up with a brilliant idea. He thought my mum might have left behind journals or letters of some description in my vault. While I don't remember seeing anything of the kind there, I have to admit I was far too bedazzled by all the gold to take too close a look. So I decided to come up with my most brilliant and fiendishly inventive plan yet to get to Gringotts! One that would utilize every ounce of my Slytherin cunning.

"Thanks for taking us to Gringotts, Remus," I said as the three of us walked up the steps of the goblin bank that weekend. By three of us, I meant me, Remus, and Ron. Hermione wouldn't go. She said she had too much studying to do. I think I heard her muttering something about how it would avoid her downfall or something. I don't know. Hermione's not too coherent these days. Hestia didn't go either. Too many papers to grade. I feel no sympathy. It's her own fault for assigning them in the first place.

"No problem, Harry," Remus said. "I have to admit, it never occurred to me Lily might have left behind a journal in her vault. It would have made sense, though, that she wouldn't have left behind something with information that valuable lying around for anyone to take it."

The goblins didn't look pleased to see us. But then again, they never look pleased to see anyone, so I don't know that means anything. I had a devil of a time convincing them to let Ron come along with us to my vault, since he's not a member of my family, not like Remus is as my legal guardian. But in the end, my superior negotiating skills (and a bribe – sorry, service charge) won the day and we got on the cart and made the way to my vault. Ron's mouth dropped open in total shock when he saw all my money.

"Cor blimey, Harry, you'll never have to work a day in your life with all this," Ron said. His hands twitched a little, probably with the effort to not scoop up some gold, which would have marked him as a thief. I didn't blame him. Not for impulses he resists, anyway. If he'd done it, that would have been a very different story.

I frowned. "I'm not some freeloader. I have plans." Still, it had to be admitted I probably would have a lot more trouble bringing Potter's Platters to life if my parents had been the penniless drunks I'd always been told they were.

"Sir goblin," I called out respectfully to the goblin who'd led us to the vault. "Do you happen to have an inventory of this vault?" Come to think of it, I should have asked that question before I got on the very fast and nausea-inducing cart.

"I happen to be a lady," the goblin grumbled. My face flushed and I gave a sheepish smile. "And, yes, I do." She pulled out a long sheet of paper from her pocket and thrust it at me.

I studied the inventory closely, which also included a list of all charges in the vault in the last decade. I half expected Dumbledore to have been stealing money from my vaults with how crazy and obsessed he'd been, but nope, everything had been squeaky clean.

"Here!" I said, pointing to an entry on the page. "A flash drive! It must have been important if she stored it here." I looked at the piles of gold and other valuable objects with dismay. Finding a flash drive in all this stuff would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

But then the goblin snapped her fingers and then the flash drive appeared in her hands. My heart started pounding in my chest. I could be holding the answers to the greatest mystery in the magical world. At the very least, I could very well be holding something containing a message Mum left for me. Her own words from beyond the grave. I could feel tears forming in my eyes.

Ron put a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay, Harry. Whatever's on there, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks," I said. "All right, thank you, lady goblin. Let's get out of here."

"Not so fast," Remus said, his eyes glinting with some emotion I couldn't identify. "Don't you want to get your inheritance test?"

I tilted my head. "What's that?"

"It'll tell you if you're the heir to any important families." Ron cringed beside me. I wasn't sure what that was about. "Maybe even grant you titles or additional vaults. Ma'am, would you lead the way?"

The goblin's face could have been carved from the stone all around us as she led us back through the labyrinthine passages of the bank to a nondescript office. "We require some of your blood, Mr. Potter. A mere drop."

I hesitated. I'd heard stories of the terrible things magic could do with someone's blood. But Remus thought everything was on the up and up and I trusted him. So I let the goblin prick my finger with a needle. Remus immediately cast a healing spell. Not that it was very necessary. It was just the tiniest of pinpricks.

Ethereal choir music filled the room and a spotlight suddenly appeared over me, bathing the room in heavenly light. "Mr. Potter, the most miraculous thing has happened!" the goblin said, kneeling on the floor. Remus looked like he was barely restraining himself from rolling on the floor happened. "It has finally happened! The heir is among us once more!"

"The heir to what," I said flatly, knowing very well another shoe was about to drop.

"Why, the heir to Ea-Nasir, of course!"

I groaned. If you're out of touch with the latest memes, here's an explanation. Ea-Nasir was a copper merchant in the city state of Ur in present day Iraq back in 1750 BCE. We know about him because of a complaint tablet about his substandard copper. Which Ea-Nasir kept in his house for some reason. He was pretty weird…which does provide some credibility to the idea of him being my ancestor. Anyway, Ea-Nasir became an internet meme a while back, which is how I know who he is.

"This is just the worst," I complained. "I can't be descended from a scoundrel! It'd ruin my reputation if anyone found out!"

Remus lost his battle against mirth and started laughing hysterically. "Oh, it's so much funnier since you know who Ea-Nasir is!" he said between laughter. "You should have seen the look on James's face when they explained it to him. It was priceless."

I shook my head in disbelief, a smile on my face. The last Marauder had finally managed to prank me, just when I least expected it. "So this is a joke, then?"

"Sort of," Remus admitted. "You are descended from Ea Nasir…along with the no doubt hundreds of thousands if not millions of people who also descended from him over the last nearly four thousand years. But, yeah, Blutvernichter and I thought it'd be hilarious."

"You should not have taken a selfie of one of our employees, Mr. Potter," Blutvernichter (presumably) said sanctimoniously. "The goblins always have justice."

Just for that, I got my phone out and took a picture of Blutvernichter which I'm now attaching to this blog entry. [Image description: A tall, lanky goblin who looks like she wants to rip me limb from limb. Which, to be fair, doesn't exactly distinguish her from any other goblin.]

"I don't suppose I inherited anything from Ea-Nasir?" I asked hopefully.

"Why, yes!" Blutvernichter said maliciously. "You inherited his entire collection of complaint tablets." Well, that could be worth a lot of money as historical artifacts! "Which we have put under stasis charms for the last 3750 years." Darn it.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, gonna pass. Ron, you wanna do an inheritance test?"

Ron suddenly went pale. "Uh, no. No, thank you."

"Ron?" I asked. "Do you have a secret life or something you've been hiding from me?"

Ron looked like he was about to bolt from the room for a moment or two. "You can't tell anyone," he said. "Except Hermione, I guess. But no one else, not even Professor Jones!"

"I won't speak a word of it to anyone else," I vowed. Now you may be wondering why, if I promised that, I'm putting it here on this blog. Well, I said I wouldn't speak a word of it to anyone else, not that I wouldn't tell anyone else. Besides, it's super awesome and I can't keep it to myself!

Ron took a deep breath. "I'm descended from King Arthur!"

"That is so cool!" I said, jumping up and down. "Why is that a secret?"

"Because we're descended to him through Mordred," Ron explained. According to Arthurian lore, Mordred is either Arthur's nephew or son or, in particularly sordid versions, both. Mordred was the one to kill Arthur, which would definitely explain why Ron didn't want that info to get out. "You're the first people outside the family to know."

"You have my word I'll keep it a secret, Ron," Remus promised.

I pounced on Ron with a hug. "That is so cool, mate! Do you have Excalibur hidden away somewhere? Or the round table? Or the Siege Perilous?"

Ron laughed. "No, none of that. Excalibur is a myth, anyway." Well, according to the Muggles, so was Blutvernichter, so I'll reserve judgment. "No, all we have is a tendency to be reckless and noble. My, uh, actual full first name is Rhongomyniad. It's the name of King Arthur's spear. But don't call me that."

"I can't even pronounce that. That's a stupid name. No offense."

"Believe me, none taken," Ron said fervently.

After leaving Gringotts, the three of us made our way to the nearest public library, where we'd be able to access the contents of the flash drive. But no such luck, because it was encrypted. I couldn't make hide nor hair of it and I didn't know anyone else who could. All I could figure out was it wasn't your ordinary level of encryption, but really high end. Like it was government level.

"Maybe Hagrid helped her?" Ron asked, clearly grasping at straws. "I mean, he was always going on about how close he was to your mum, right?"

"Maybe," I said, uncomfortable with the very thought. I didn't like the thought of Mum palling around with dangerous MI6 agents like Hagrid. In any case, we couldn't ask Hagrid since he was recently sentenced to seven years in Azkaban for attacking Hestia. So we're kind of back to the drawing board.

Unless of course one of you, my loyal readers, knows something about encryption and can help out?

COMMENTS

deeds_of_stone: Give me the coordinates to Hogwarts for my experiment and I'll help you decrypt the files, I promise. I'm not MI6, Harry. MI6 had an agent at Hogwarts for years – don't you think they'd already know Hogwarts's coordinates by now?

Your logic is sound, but I have to think about it. I don't know if I can trust you.

I can't believe how idiotic I've been. After a lot of thinking, I decided to give the geographic coordinates of Hogwarts to deeds_of_stone in exchange for their help decrypting the files on Mum's flash drive. (Read the comments from my last post if you don't know what I'm talking about.) Not two seconds after sending the message, I realized I did know someone who can help decrypt the files. The Grangers! As you know, dentistry is a cutthroat business and various dentists are constantly hacking into each other's systems to steal teeth-related secrets. Yes. That sounds plausible. Anyway, I realized they'd know computer experts that could help me break the encryption on the flash drive.

But it's too late now. I'm not worried, though. Hogwarts is unplottable. It won't show up on satellite – any Muggle will just see a ruin. And I told Hestia about my mistake and she's not worried either, so I figure everything's fine. Deeds_of_stone, if you're reading this and your intentions are malevolent, you'll have to face my wrath. Word of warning. I'll give them maybe a month or so before I reach out to the Grangers. It's not like I'm in a rush. Sure, it'd be nice to know how I survived, but it's not urgent or anything, even with this whole prophecy business. By the sounds of it, the victims won't be killed with the Killing Curse.

It took a lot of back and forth with the other members of the club, but we finally had the first meeting of the Muggleborn-Pureblood Alliance. For the record, I'm of two minds about the name. On the one hand, it sort of leaves out half-bloods and, in general, sort of leans into the whole blood divide thing. On the other hand, my grandfather came up with the name and I appear to be the only one who actually does object. So I'm going to leave it there until at least someone else objects.

I'm one of four co-leaders of the club, one for each house. Each of them is of a different blood status for a maximum level of perspectives. Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff, a half-blood raised in the magical world. Kellah DiMarco of Gryffindor, a Muggleborn. And Robert Hilliard, a pureblood Ravenclaw prefect. It was decided we'd switch off at planning the meetings and I'd go first. Probably because my celebrity status would attract people to the club. Which was precisely what I was afraid of.

"Okay, Harry, you got this," I said as I paced back and forth in front of the door to the empty classroom where the club was being held. "Absolutely nothing to worry about. It's not like you're going to dishonor your grandfather's memory forever if you screw up."

"Excuse me?" a voice called out from behind me. I yelped and spun around to see a tiny first year standing behind me. An adorable little girl with pigtails and the most earnest and open face you've ever seen. I'm not convinced she didn't sneak into the school early. She looked so small. Of course if she did, I'm not about to rat her out. Again, to the administration. You, I have no qualms about ratting her out to. "Is this the right place for the Muggleborn-Pureblood Alliance?"

I grinned. "Sure is! Club co-leader Harry Potter, at your service." I gave an elaborate bow. The girl giggled. "You may have heard of me. Apparently, I defeated Voldemort." The girl didn't flinch. She must have been a Muggleborn. "I'm much more proud of my awesome lightsaber skills, myself."

"I'm Ashley," the girl said. "Full name Ashley Catherine Townsend. Like, am I supposed to say the whole name? Is it a whole pedigree thing? Full disclosure, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Wanna know a secret?" I said and gestured for her to lean closer. "No one ever does. Especially not me."

She looked nervous still, so I grabbed her hand and led her into the room. I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout, which was nowhere as massive as I feared, but still a respectable amount.

"Hello everyone and welcome to the newly restored Muggleborn Pureblood Alliance!" There was a modest round of applause. Everyone was lounging around on beanbag chairs which Professor Sinistra must have conjured. I looked around for familiar faces, but the only one I spotted, other than the co-leaders, was Hermione. (Ron's chess club met at the same time and, of course, he couldn't be at two places at once. You'd have to have some sort of time machine for that, and that would just be unnecessarily contrived.)

Much to my pleasant surprise, the students appeared more or less evenly divided between houses. There were even a fair amount of Slytherins. I pulled out two Rubik's cubes and transfigured them into a wax apple and orange respectively. I've spent weeks working on that spell and by the impressed looks on everyone's faces, it paid off. "Muggles and mages are just like this apple and orange. Completely different cultures. Neither is superior. Neither is inferior. Both of them are fruits, just as we're all humans."

Hermione looked like she was struggling to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, probably at my trite metaphor. I duly ignored her. "We all live on the same planet. We're warmed by the winter and summer, subject to the same diseases – no, actually not that one. But you get the idea. We have to learn to live with each other. We can do amazing things. And so can Muggles." I suddenly ran out of steam. "Um, so I'll open the floor to questions now, I guess?"

"Is it true Muggles still burn mages?" a Ravenclaw asked.

"Don't worry," I assured her. "Not only is that not the case, but there were very few instances of that happening back in the olden days too. It's just a myth for the most part." The Ravenclaw breathed a sigh of relief. "Most of them were hanged. Now Giles Corey, on the other hand –"

Professor Sinistra quickly called on another person. "Why do Muggleborns exist at all?" a Slytherin asked. "My dad says they steal magic, but that doesn't make sense to me. If they could do that, wouldn't they all have it by now?"

I couldn't help myself from grinning. This was exactly the sort of person I was hoping to reach in order to cut bigotry off at the pass. I knew I couldn't break down all the stereotypes and misinformation all on my own. But every little bit helps. "You're right. They don't steal magic. As for why it happens…we don't know. There's likely a genetic component." The Slytherin looked at me blankly. "I mean, it's possible there's a mage somewhere back in their family tree. But no one's really sure."

"Consider this," Kellah said. "At some point, magic was wielded for the first time. The first mage therefore was a Muggleborn. It may have just appeared or been granted to us by some god. But everything starts somewhere. Including mages."

A Gryffindor waved his hand wildly. "Did you really kill You Know Who?!"

"Yes, I did, Mr. Creevy," Professor Sinistra intoned in a sepulcher voice. "So I suggest you don't ask Mr. Potter any invasive questions." Creevy let out a squeak. I felt bad for him. I've been on the other end of the whole ask stupid questions and get smacked down by a teacher thing.

"If Muggles are so good and pure, if they're not in the business of killing mages anymore, then why are we hiding from them?" a Slytherin demanded.

I froze. I very much did not want to take a stance on this issue in public. And make no mistake, this was public enough that if I said the wrong thing, it would be in the Daily Prophet the next day. "Because it's the law," I said slowly. "And we're not a debating society, so I'm going to change the subject now."

The Slytherin looked about to argue further, but Professor Sinistra whispered something in his ear and he abruptly settled down.

Our question and answer period went on for a lot longer after that. I'm not going to bore you with every single question. Some of the questions were ridiculous but well-intentioned, borne out of ignorance. A few were deliberate efforts of provocation, which I responded to with sarcastic quips and/or kicking the questioner out. I will not allow the club to be hijacked by blood purism. Most of the questions were asked merely in the spirit of curiosity. One thing was for sure. The club had been a really great idea. We all had a lot to learn about each other.

After we all got sick of asking and answering questions, I put on the movie Apollo 13. I wanted to pick something that was interesting enough to keep kids on their seats and largely accurate as well. The space program is one of the greatest things Muggles have ever come up with…and showing how it can go wrong also encourages the virtue of humility. Plus, I mean, come on, have you seen Apollo 13. Total nailbiter! First time I ever saw it, like most of the movies I've seen, was back when Mrs. Figg was babysitting me. She may have been a dotty old lady, but her movie collection was top notch.

As I expected, the movie was a complete success. Everyone was completely in awe when Apollo 13 launched and on the edge of their seats when the problems started. The mageborns (and some of the Muggleborns unfamiliar with the event) had no idea what would happen, only that it was based on a real story, and thus they knew it was entirely possible every single one of the astronauts could die. I was in tears when it ended, even though I've seen it a half dozen times.

"Uh, so how did you get these electronics to work in Hogwarts?" someone asked.

"Trade secret. All right, we're done here!"

On my way back to the dungeons, Creevy appeared out of nowhere. Seriously, I have no idea where he was even hiding. "Hi, I'm Colin, I'm so sorry about putting you on the spot in there, I'm just such a huge fan of yours," he said in one quick breath.

"Yeah, yeah, the whole killing Voldemort thing, whatever," I said and started to walk away.

"No, no, from your blog!"

I turned around. "You read my blog?" Other than my inner circle, I've never met anyone who's actually read my blog. In fact, the idea of anyone reading this blog was something of an abstraction until now.

"It's exploded in popularity! You're super internet famous! It's really, really big on Tumblr. There's fanart and fanfics!" I just blinked repeatedly. I had no clue what to say to any of that. "The Harmony ship is obviously the most popular one, but ever since your relationship started getting rockier, the Hon ship – you and Ron – is getting more traction." Harmony? Harry and Hermione? Kind of weird, but I've seen more contrived ship names in my time. "Of course, there's also the Drarry shippers, but they're delusional in my opinion."

I have to admit, at this point, I was sorely tempted to just delete my blog in its entirety. But you couldn't put the genie back in the bottle, right? "Colin, do people actually believe in this stuff? Muggles, I mean. Do they think I'm just making it up?"

"Well, of course they don't believe it! Why would they?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Right, of course. Look, Colin, can you keep…whatever you've read about me and Hermione to yourself? And by that I mean don't tell her?"

Colin made a lips zipped gesture. "It's all cool. And this year's entries have been super exciting! We're hoping for all sorts of chaos and mayhem for the rest of the school year."

"Yeah…I don't even know where to start with that one."

Colin winked. "Don't worry, it'll all turn out fine. HARMONY FOREVER!" He tried to perform a backflip but failed epically and landed on the ground. "I'm okay…"

The next morning, I finally worked up the courage to look up my blog on Tumblr. And…Colin was not exaggerating. It is insanely popular. Now how exactly I square this with the fact I'm not getting very many comments, I have no clue. Maybe whatever's protecting Hogwarts is blocking most of the comments. Who knows? I'm not going to waste time freaking out about it. Not when I'm continuously freaking out about all the fanfiction being posted about me! And they don't have my character right at all! They act like I'm a total douche and edgelord. Ugh. This is why we shouldn't have RPF, people.

I even asked Lockhart during our scheduled meeting (all club leaders have to meet with him to give a progress report), totally joking, if he could Obliviate me of the knowledge people were writing RPF of me. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. You should have seen it. It was hilarious. He demanded to know what I knew about him and obliviation. It wasn't until I reminded him of how he'd defeated the Dread Necromancer of Oakland by Obliviating him until he was a vegetable that he calmed down. He's so lovably eccentric!

Anyway, signing off. Look, I can't stop you from writing RPF about me, but try to restrain yourself. I'm still twelve. Without naming any names, there are some real sickos out there. Have some dignity.

Hey, Lydude,

(Let's stick to aliases for the time being, just to be cautious.)

I hereby apologize for making fun of you when you first told me your story. But it seemed so far fetched! Of course I was familiar with the Harry Potter blog, but the idea it was real seemed so ridiculous. But I finally squeezed the coordinates out of Harry and satellite footage indeed shows a ruin there. So I reached out to the historical society and government of the nearest village.

And they don't have any records.

No one knows anything about those ruins. Not the name of the castle, not who built it, not a single record of anyone ever stepping foot in it at any time of recorded history. There's nothing. It's like it doesn't exist. And I'm starting to realize the truth. The reason it seems like it doesn't exist is because it doesn't exist. There's no ruin. There's only Hogwarts.

I think you were right. I think Harry is real. I think magic is real.

And now that we know it's real…we have to decide what to do about it.

Deeds_of_stone