The Great Hall of Hogwarts was alive with a buzz Harry hadn't heard in twenty years. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts. Now, its enchanted ceiling mirrored a serene, cloudless afternoon sky, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in his heart. Rows of students and alumni, professors and reporters, filled the room, their faces turned toward the stage set up at the far end. On it sat four chairs—three occupied by the panelists and one by the moderator.
Harry Potter shifted in his seat, absently adjusting the lapel of his enchanted microphone pin. The familiar surroundings—the banners for each house, the soft golden light—were comforting yet unnerving. It was as if the castle was whispering its memories back to him. He wondered, not for the first time, whether coming back had been a mistake.
The moderator, a sharp-eyed witch with short silver hair named Marietta Greaves, spoke with ease, her voice amplified by the same technology Harry had dedicated the last two decades to popularizing in the wizarding world.
"—and it's this integration of Muggle technologies like television that has revolutionized how we stay informed. But it wasn't always this way," she said, turning to him. "Harry, you were one of the earliest proponents of wizarding news broadcasts. Tell us, what drove you to bring this change to our community?"
Harry blinked and focused on her. The audience leaned forward in anticipation. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile.
"Well," he began, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest, "after Voldemort's defeat, it became clear to me how easily fear and misinformation could spread in isolation. During the war, so many witches and wizards didn't know what was happening until it was too late. I thought—if we had better ways to connect, to inform one another, maybe we'd never face that kind of darkness again without being prepared."
He paused, his hand brushing the faint scar on his forehead. "I started small, just writing reports for The Daily Prophet. But when I saw the potential in adapting Muggle broadcasting, I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to give people something they could rely on. Something honest."
The audience murmured, and Marietta nodded approvingly. "Your network, The Wizarding World News, is now the leading source of information in magical Britain. But you've also had a fascinating personal journey. Would you care to—"
"No," Harry interrupted, his voice a little sharper than he intended. He saw her flinch, but he softened his tone. "Sorry. I'd rather stick to the panel topic."
The moderator moved on, asking one of the other panelists a question about the International Confederation of Wizards. Harry let his gaze wander over the hall. It was strange to think he once sat among the students who were now watching him. Back then, he'd believed in the fairytale ending: Voldemort's defeat, a happy life with Ginny, and a future that felt certain.
But that life had unraveled quickly.
Ginny had been passionate and fiery, as she always was. They'd tried to make it work—married too young, maybe too soon after the war. But the weight of their shared trauma, combined with Harry's obsession with his fledgling career, had pulled them apart. The divorce had been quiet, mutual, but it had still broken his heart.
And then there was her. The relationship that had followed. The one that had burned brighter than Fiendfyre and left scars just as deep. He had loved her—loved her so much it terrified him. But she had her own wounds, and in the end, they had torn each other apart. Harry didn't speak her name anymore, not even to himself. It hurt too much.
The panel had moved into its final segment, and Marietta Greaves gestured toward the audience with a bright smile. "Now, we'd love to hear from all of you. If you have a question for our esteemed panelists, please raise your hand, and the enchanted microphone will find its way to you."
A forest of hands shot up. A floating microphone zipped through the air, pausing in front of a confident-looking Ravenclaw boy in his sixth year. He stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape, and addressed the panel.
"Hi. My question is: What makes the magical world so much better than the Muggle world?"
The question elicited a few chuckles from the audience, but the boy's tone was serious, his gaze steady. Harry leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite himself.
The first panelist, a polished Ministry official named Archibald Hawthorne, chuckled and gave a saccharine smile. "Well, that's a rather easy one, isn't it? Magic! Our ability to perform incredible feats of transfiguration, potion-making, and spellwork sets us apart. Can you imagine the drudgery of having to live without it? What a dreary life."
There was polite laughter from parts of the audience. Harry's jaw tightened.
The second panelist, a historian named Euphemia Lockley, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. And let us not forget the cultural legacy of the magical world—the wisdom of the founders, the artistry of our enchanted creations. The Muggle world can be… charming in its simplicity, but it lacks the richness and depth we enjoy in every aspect of our lives. It's no contest, really."
A few more titters of agreement rippled through the room. The Ravenclaw boy didn't look convinced, and Harry could feel a flicker of irritation rising in his chest.
Marietta turned to him. "And Harry, what do you think? Surely, as someone who grew up in the Muggle world and became a leader in ours, you must have a unique perspective."
"Quidditch," Harry answered, noncommittally. If he was honest, he clocked out of this night long before this last segment, only really expanding on answers a few times. His answer earned some laughs around and the boy that asked the question smiled, Harry giving a half one as well.
"No, Mr. Potter," Marietta said, seemingly out of patience with his shortness. "I'm going to hold you to an answer on that. What makes the magical world better than the Muggle world?"
Harry sighed, not wanting to really deal with this, right now, so he used a cop out.
"Well Archibald and Euphemia said it," Harry said. "Magic and Culture."
A few more chuckles and Harry turned back to the crowd, hoping Marietta would let it go. When he scanned, his eyes fell on a familiar face. Or at least he thought it was a familiar face. The brown eyes, the bushy hair. Was that, Hermione? He was distracted as the woman in the back held up a notepad that simply said 'It's Not'.
"I'm not letting you go back to London without answering the question," Marietta said.
Harry was brought back to reality and looked to Marietta trying to come up with something.
"Well," Harry said. "Our education system is a masterpiece. Albus Dumbledor was a genius. The Wizengamot and their recently amended constitution for the entire Magical world that was approved by the ICW is the single greatest piece of documentation in history."
Harry eyed down Marietta, who gazed right back, not backing down.
"You don't look satisfied," Harry said, reading the look on her face.
"One is a school and the other is a set of laws," Marietta said. "I want a human moment from you."
Harry glanced back at the crowd and the woman was still there with the sign. Her appearance seemed to be constantly changing, but the sign remained.
"What about the witches and wizards," Marietta prodded. "Why is the mag-"
"It's not better than the muggle world, Ms. Greaves," Harry snapped, cutting her off. "That's my answer."
There were gasps all around the Great Hall. Professors shifted uncomfortably and students whispered to each other. The great Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, didn't even think they were better than muggles.
"You're saying-" Marietta started before Harry cut her off again.
"Yes," he said plainly.
Marietta knew she screwed up and what message this would send, clearly regretting pushing Harry. "Let's talk about," she started, trying to move things along but Harry wouldn't let her.
"Fine," Harry said, turning to Archibald first. "Just because we have magic and can make things float doesn't make us better. Magic doesn't make us moral. It doesn't make us smarter. It doesn't make us kinder. It's a tool, just like any other."
Harry wheeled and faced the other panelist, "Any you, you want to tell students that our culture is better? Let's look at the facts. Muggles have eradicated diseases. They've landed on the moon. They've build ways to communicate instantly across the globe, something we've barely scratched the surface of recently. These things we could learn from if we weren't so busy patting ourselves on the back for being magical."
Harry turned back to the student that asked the question and addressed him directly.
"And you, Hufflepuff," Harry said. "In case you ever decide to get out of the fantasy land that the isolated Hogwarts school is, there's some things you should know. There is no factual evidence to support that the magical world is greater than the muggle. Our government is riddled with corruption, we're still dealing with blood prejudice, and let's not even start on the fact that we spent years ignoring the rise of Voldemort because it was easier to pretend he wasn't a threat."
Harry leaned forward at this point, really getting into it.
"We're better than the muggles in hiding. In pretending. In isolating ourselves because we're too afraid to confront the fact that maybe we aren't better. Maybe we're just different. And if you think that difference makes us superior, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
Harry took a moment to breathe and noticed how quiet the Great Hall was. Marietta was looking at him agape, as were the professors. Harry's eyes found the woman again and he just sighed, turning back to the boy that was almost in tears.
"We sure used to be," Harry continued. "We stood up for what was right. We practiced magic for noble reasons, not personal gain or domination. We created spells and enchantments to protect, to heal, to help—not to control. We sacrificed. We supported our neighbors, whether magical or Muggle. We built incredible things, advanced magical knowledge, uncovered the mysteries of our world, and cultivated some of the most brilliant witches and wizards in history. We aspired to wisdom, to intelligence, and we didn't treat those aspirations as something to be feared or mocked. We didn't define ourselves by the purity of our bloodlines or the prejudices of the past, and we didn't cower in the face of change."
Harry took a pause and then continued on.
"We were able to be all of those things because we were untied, informed, and inspired by great witches and wizards, people who were revered," Harry said, and leaned back in his chair. "The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one. The magical world is no longer greater than the muggle world."
Harry turned to Marietta, a smug glare on his face.
"Enough?" he asked.