JKR owns HP… and, of course, Laazov owns Goldstein.

Note: I tried to get Laazov's permission to post this, but did not get a reply. I was told by those in the know that she usually doesn't mind. I will, of course, take it down if she asks me to (or if we ever get the real Chapter 24).

Note: If you haven't read the original Goldstein in a while, you might want to reread Chapter 23, as several plotlines follow directly from there.

Rav Huna said: When a person has repeatedly transgressed, it becomes permitted. [The Talmud interjects:] Do you think it becomes permitted?! [Rather,] it becomes permitted in his eyes. (Talmud, Yoma 86b)

When Yehuda returned to Hogwarts after his bar mitzvah, there was a vague, guilty feeling in the back of his brain, as though he had done something terribly wrong and got away with it. He didn't have much time to think about it, however; although there was only a week left until the end of term, with the avalanche of work he returned to, it could as well have been a month.

McGonagall, Sinistra, Flitwick and Binns had each assigned an essay while he had been away, and Snape had somehow taught the class three different potions in the week he had missed. Herbology was even worse: Professor Sprout made him spend the entire Sunday afternoon at Greenhouse Three helping to quiet the mandrakes, who were getting rowdy again. He had fallen behind in his father's sheets as well, which meant he spent half of Tuesday night in the common room, alone with his Mishnayos Yuma, trying to figure out if there were five inuyim or six. At least Lockhart's classes didn't increase his workload; he wrote most of his Transfiguration essay during a particularly stupid lesson that ended up being mainly about Lockhart's teeth. Time passed in a tired haze of classes and work, with only short breaks for meals and one quick kitchen inspection. By the time Friday night came along, he was so eager for sleep he could hardly bother to eat his vegetable soup.

Ba shabbos, ba menucha, he thought as he finished his Shabbos morning davening in his dormitory and made kiddush. His schoolwork was finished, term was over, and they would go home on the train tomorrow. He had plenty of time to relax today, even if he would spend a few hours with his Gemara. He washed for his seudah and looked for the extra rolls he had brought back to Ravenclaw Tower last night.

With a sinking feeling, he realized that in his tiredness, he had forgotten to bring the rolls. He glanced around the room, but there was nothing to make hamotzi on anywhere. He checked his nightstand drawer, hoping there would perhaps be some forgotten biscuits inside (you could make hamotzi on them if you made them into a seudah, couldn't you?), but there was nothing, not a crumb. He looked everywhere, even under the bed, but the house-elves kept everything spotlessly clean, and there was no bread of any form to be found. He groaned. He would have to go all the way down to the Great Hall - or perhaps even the kitchens, if breakfast had been cleared away - to fetch some bread.

He turned resignedly toward the door, but several sets of footsteps were tramping up the stairs, and Terry, Michael and Benjamin came chattering into the room.

"I need to start packing, we're leaving tomorrow- Oh, hello Yehuda!"

Terry was looking at him, expecting a good morning, or something similar, but he couldn't talk- he motioned helplessly, but of course they wouldn't understand nu uh like at home-

"Oh, sorry, are you still praying?" Terry said, too quickly. "I didn't realize!"

Yehuda shook his head and smiled so Terry wouldn't think he was upset at him. He still couldn't say anything, though, and now all three of them were staring at him. He flushed, feeling completely ridiculous. Why did he always end up looking even stranger than he had to?

"Did you take a vow of silence?" Terry asked, looking impressed.

A vow of what? Yehuda shook his head bemusedly. Benjamin stared at the wall, not making eye contact with either of them.

"Oh, don't be stupid," Michael said to Terry. "He washed for his bread, didn't you, Yehuda?"

Yehuda nodded, surprised that Michael had picked up on that halacha. Then again, he was a Ravenclaw.

"And you have no bread," Michael continued, looking around. He grinned evilly. "Let's see how good you are at nonverbal spells, Goldstein. Colloportus!" He pointed his wand at the door, sealing it.

What?

Nonverbal spells were N.E.W.T. level; there was no way he would be able to let himself out without speaking. He was entirely at Michael's mercy, which did not seem particularly forthcoming at the moment.

"Come on, come on, you can do it," Michael teased. Yehuda glared at him. This wasn't funny. He was hungry and did not have patience to wait for Michael to finish amusing himself.

Behind Michael's back, Benjamin was whispering to Terry. Then he winked at Yehuda.

Michael, intent on his joke, didn't notice. "Wait, you can't do nonverbal spells?" he asked in feigned surprise. "You're just going to -"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Alohomora!"

"Oi!" Michael yelled as his wand flew out of his hand. He lunged at Benjamin, who had Disarmed him, but Benjamin, laughing, tossed Michael's wand over to Terry, who held it out of Michael's reach, yelling, "Run, Yehuda!"

Yehuda, now laughing himself, sprinted for the door as the others tussled behind him. "That'll teach you about being a good friend!" he heard Terry shout as he reached the common room.

They were all good friends, he thought to himself as he descended toward the kitchens, still chuckling to himself. Friends sometimes pranked each other, and friends helped each other out when they were in trouble.

Around noon, Sherwood walked around the common room with a sheaf of parchment, handing one to each of the second years.

"'Electives,'" Michael read from his parchment. (He had taken an extra one for Yehuda, who was pretty sure that a parchment you were supposed to write on was muktzeh.) "'All second years should select at least two of the following classes, to be added to your schedules next year. Selection forms must be handed in to your Head of House on the first day of spring term.' What'll it be for you, Goldstein? Arithmancy? Care of Magical Creatures? Divination?"

Everyone burst out laughing. Ravenclaws did not take Divination.

"Well," Yehuda said, reading the list over Michael's shoulder, "I already study Ancient Runes half the day, so that should be a breeze…"

Information about the classes bounced around the common room all Shabbos afternoon, filtering down from the older students and distracting Yehuda from his Gemara. Arithmancy, which apparently had something to do with the magical properties of numbers, sounded fascinating, but was also supposed to be quite difficult. Muggle Studies wouldn't be necessary for him; Divination involved all kinds of superstitious nonsense and was therefore probably assur as well as being the joke of Ravenclaw House.

A rumor went around that Professor Kettleburn of Care of Magical Creatures was retiring, spread by Eddie Carmichael from the year above them.

"Maybe Lockhart will want to replace him," Marietta piped up sarcastically. "We had a niffler lesson the other day, and Lockhart came by and told Kettleburn to come by if he ever needed any advice on handling nifflers, because he had dealt with them in Austria or something."

"That's nice of him," Terry said. "What did Kettleburn say?"

Marietta smirked. "Nothing. He held out a niffler and watched it take Lockhart's watch and lapel pin and pop all the gold buttons off his coat."

Everyone roared with laughter, except Terry, who turned pink and didn't say anything.

The following morning Yehuda shared a train compartment with Terry (who thankfully did not go on for ages about everything he would do at his church over the holiday), Kevin, and Dean Thomas from the calligraphy club. The train wasn't packed, as it had been over the winter break right after all the attacks, but it wasn't empty either, like last year when he and Terry had been nearly alone. Most of the Muggle-borns seemed to be heading home.

Yehuda and Dean compared calligraphy samples (though he did not show Dean his safrus, even when Dean showed him some brilliant pictures he had drawn); Terry and Kevin played Exploding Snap. While the others talked about Quidditch, Yehuda finished the last mishna in Yuma, noting with interest that it was the same as the song from Lag BaOmer. He made a siyum for himself with some fruit he had bought from the trolley witch.

Eventually they came around to discussing electives again. Terry was interested in Arithmancy, and Dean thought Divination sounded cool, though he was considering taking Muggle Studies just to get an easy pass.

"Why bother with Arithmancy if you know the Muggle stuff anyway?" he asked.

Yehuda was scandalized. "So we can learn!" he said hotly. "What's the point in going to Hogwarts to read about your life at home? If we weren't studying magic we could just stay where we came from!"

Terry and Kevin were staring at him, startled by his vehemence, and Dean looked stung. "Oh, so only clever Ravenclaws like you are good enough for Hogwarts?" he retorted angrily.

His friends didn't understand, Yehuda realized, as he mumbled an apology to Dean. They couldn't understand, because Hogwarts was easy for them, without the stares and the special requests and the missed lessons to make up. None of them had to lie to their siblings, nor did their friends back home think they were goyish, because they were goyim and it wasn't a problem for them. Their parents didn't give them worried looks or hold whispered conversations about them; their accomplishments at Hogwarts were a point of pride, not an embarrassment to be tolerated only temporarily, because it was pikuach nefesh -

Oh.

He had known there was something for him to feel guilty about, and everything suddenly clicked, his thoughts tumbling over each other in a panic. My tape recorder exploded - no more accidental magic - tamim tihiyeh - I'll have to go back to Yesodey with Meyerson and everyone - what will I tell people -

There was no longer any heter for him to do magic, now that he had control and could never be dangerous again.

What were his choices?

He could just come home, tell his parents he had control of his magic, and show up at Yesodey on the first day of the new term. There would be endless awkward questions, and endless mumbled lies. He wondered if he would even fit in there anymore, after a year and a half of palling around with goyim. He pictured himself throwing his spellbooks into the bin, breaking his wand, giving Ferric to Michael to keep forever, never doing magic again. The thought made him want to cry.

Or he could just not say anything, pretend he still needed to come back to Hogwarts-

He knew even as the idea crossed his mind that he would never do any such thing. He could never lie to his parents so dramatically, and besides, if it was assur, it was assur.

There was only one thing to do. He would have to talk to Rabbi Zeller. The rabbi would know what to do; he always did.

"Yehuda?" Terry asked concernedly, interrupting his flood of anxiety. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Yehuda said, shaking himself with pretend casualness. "Just zoned out."

What was he going to do?

They piled onto the platform around an hour after shkiah. His father was waiting, but Yehuda did not immediately run to hug him. He had only been away for a week, which was not enough time to miss home. He lingered instead as Dean, then Kevin, said their goodbyes.

"See you after the holidays!" Terry said cheerfully, causing Yehuda's chest to constrict again. Would he? Thankfully, there was no need to respond; Terry had spotted Benjamin, who was dragging his trunk out of his own compartment, and immediately ran over to help him.

Yehuda waved at them and walked over to his father, glad he did not have to say goodbye. Everything was too confused and messy for that right now, when he wasn't sure if it would be a two-weeks goodbye or a forever goodbye, and why did he even care if he would never see them again, they were only his goyish classmates anyway.

"We need to go, Yehuda," his father said, steering him toward the archway back to the Muggle platform. "We should have finished bedikas chometz already."

Yehuda perked up at that. Last year, when the holidays had only begun on erev Pesach, he had not been home for bedikas chometz, and he had rushed into yom tov without really preparing for it. This year he would do it right, and now that he was bar mitzvah, he would be able to help for real.

But when they got home, they found ten pieces of bread in a little bag on the countertop, and Esti and Sholom facing each other in furious mid-argument.

"Who do you think you are?" Esti was shouting, angry blotches on her cheeks, while Adina stood to one side, watching wide-eyed. "This house doesn't belong to you anyway, Mr. Halacha-" She whirled around at the sound of the slamming front door. "You see! Here they are! You couldn't have waited all of half an hour?"

"It was past the zman already!" Sholom insisted, looking to their father for backup. "Ta! I did the bedikah, because you weren't back yet and it was getting late, and Esti starts yelling shtussim about how we have to wait for Yehuda-"

"Do you have any middos at all?" Esti shot back, looking completely appalled. "Or do you only know how to learn Gemara?"

"Yehuda must've done his own bedikah anyway, in his yeshiva! Right, Yehuda?"

He stared at them in alarm. No, he hadn't done bedikah before he left Hogwarts, he had completely forgotten, and why had they done bedikah without him? The usual lies about his yeshiva in America refused to come out of his mouth, Sholom was waiting for an answer, and Esti was watching him with a knowing look and how did she know?

Mercifully, Tatty saved him. "Sholom, the bedikah is not your mitzvah," he said firmly. "Esti, I don't care what happened, there's no excuse to speak to your brother that way. Both of you please apologize immediately. And where is Mummy?"

"She went shopping," Esti muttered, still looking mutinous. "Sorry, Sholom."

Sholom returned an equally grudging-sounding apology, then stalked upstairs, grabbing a sefer from the table as he passed.

Yehuda watched him go, almost crying out of sheer frustration and resentment. There was Sholom again, being frum at everyone else's expense. Sholom, feeling so smug about his mitzvos, and always having to be better than Yehuda… It was strange, Yehuda thought, how sometimes his goyish classmates respected his yiddishkeit more than Sholom did.

(Later, lying in bed, somewhere in the space between awake and dreaming, he remembered his ludicrous search for a hamotzi the day before, and decided it had been more or less a bedikas chometz. He smiled, rolled over, and promptly fell asleep.)

"So am I allowed to go back, or do I need to come home for good?" Yehuda asked, after explaining the situation.

It was the second day of yom tov, and Yehuda had finally managed to find an opportunity to speak to Rabbi Zeller in shul without his father noticing. It had felt like draining something poisonous from his body, voicing the question that had been buzzing in his brain for days.

But it was strange. Before now, whenever he had asked Rabbi Zeller about returning to Hogwarts, the question had been Do I have to go back? Now it was Am I allowed to go back? When had that changed, he wondered as he waited for a response. He had never specifically decided he wanted to stay at Hogwarts; he had just slowly felt more and more comfortable there. He fixed his gaze on the floor, unable to meet Rabbi Zeller's eyes.

"You haven't discussed this with your parents yet, I assume," Rabbi Zeller said.

Yehuda shook his head glumly. How could he ever admit to his parents that he had come to enjoy going to a school for goyim, and that he desperately wanted to stay there? They would never understand; they would only be heartbroken that their son was becoming a goy. Maybe he was becoming a goy.

"Look at me, Yehuda," the rabbi said softly.

Yehuda reluctantly looked up.

"I want you to know," Rabbi Zeller said, "- before we have any discussion about the future - that there is nothing wrong with you. You have not only not lost your yiddishkeit, in more than a year away from your family and community, but grown in it as well. Only a boy of rare quality could achieve what you have. I am prouder of you than I can say."

Yehuda fidgeted, uncomfortable with the rabbi's praise. It didn't make sense; how could he be a good yeshiva boy if going back to yeshiva was exactly what he didn't want to do? He opened his mouth to voice the thought, but Rabbi Zeller forestalled him.

"It's perfectly natural that you want to stay at your school," he said. "It is a place where you learn things which you can't learn anywhere else, and where you can make friends with others who share your abilities- and no, it's not an aveira to have non-Jewish friends," he finished, correctly interpreting Yehuda's look of surprise.

The panic in Yehuda's chest did not ease. "But what am I going to do?"

Rabbi Zeller stood up. "What you must do," he said, "as soon as possible, is to speak to your parents. Tell them what you told me. Then we can all meet again to discuss your options."

"But they'll never let-" Yehuda began.

"Your parents want only the best for you," the rabbi interrupted sharply. "They love you more than anyone. If sending you back is the right thing to do, they will do it. You must trust them. If it is convenient for all of you, we can meet in my office tomorrow morning."

They gathered in the office on the first morning of chol hamoed: Yehuda, his parents and the rabbi, sitting in the same chairs they had sat in two years ago, back when they had first decided to send him to Hogwarts.

McGonagall had been here then, Yehuda remembered, and he had been young and scared, not yet bar mitzvah. They had discussed kishuf and pikuach nefesh, magical outbursts and the death penalty that the Torah ordered for witches, and he had been so scared of leaving Golders Green he had nearly cried, and Rabbi Zeller had reassured him.

Then he had gone off to Hogwarts, where everyone and everything was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. He had second-guessed his every use of magic then, because he didn't know what was an aveira and what was allowed because he would be dangerous otherwise. It had been ages since he thought that way, he realized. The magic had become routine, simply a part of his existence.

He came to attention as Rabbi Zeller closed his sefer. His father was sitting gingerly in his seat; he had not spoken much since last night, when Yehuda had told them he wanted to go back to Hogwarts, and that Rabbi Zeller wanted to discuss the issue.

"Rabbi Zeller," Tatty began, "I really don't see what the question is here. If there's no longer a question of pikuach nefesh, magic is assur. Why is this even a discussion?"

"From a halachic perspective," Rabbi Zeller responded, "I'm actually not so concerned about Yehuda doing magic."

Yehuda gaped, as did his parents.

"But how-" Mummy began, but Rabbi Zeller was still talking.

"There's the famous shitas haRambam, for one thing, that the magic assered in the Torah is not real at all, which the Rashba says would mean that real magic, if it existed, would be mutar. There's also a fascinating Drashos haRan who says that the Torah's magic depends on appeasing evil spiritual forces - we should go through that piece together one day, Yehuda, actually take a look at some Torah philosophy of magic. Then there's that Ramban I showed you two years ago, who says something similar… also a Teshuvos haRivash. The point is," the rabbi concluded, addressing Yehuda's parents, "after corresponding with Yehuda about his studies for the last year and a half, I'm fairly confident that they actually don't fall under the Torah's categories of magic."

"But so what?" Tatty insisted. "Even if the magic itself isn't an issue, you're still talking about sending him back to a non-Jewish school for five years! Why would we even consider doing such a thing?"

"That is the question here," the rabbi answered, "one of hashkafa rather than halacha. That is to say, is it right for him to spend the next several years in a non-Jewish environment to learn skills he can't get anywhere else? Originally, I would have said no. Why should we take such a risk? But he's already been at this- at his school for quite a while, and his yiddishkeit is strong as ever - even stronger than it was, in fact."

Yesterday, Rabbi Zeller's praise had made him uncomfortable. But now his parents were here, and they beamed at him with the same proud expressions they had worn at his bar mitzvah. A great well of pride rose in his chest, and he sat a little taller in his chair.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come. Mummy turned back to the rabbi. "So you're saying, Rabbi Zeller, that Yehuda should go back there?" Her voice was steadily rising. "Spend years and years when he should be learning in yeshiva making friends with a bunch of goyim? Who knows what will happen to him? And how in the world will we ever find a shidduch for him?"

The rabbi was silent for a moment. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Then he said, "Sometimes what seems the roundabout route to success is in fact more direct than the well-traveled path."

Yesh derech arucha shehi ketzara, Yehuda thought. Rabbi Kaufman at Torah Temima had taught them that once.

"Allow me to quote something I once heard from a major gadol," Rabbi Zeller continued. "He told me that when making an important decision, one's happiness is a crucial factor to consider, even from a ruchniyus point of view, because long-term hatzlacha in ruchniyus can only be achieved in a place where one is happy and content. When someone is stuck in a place where they don't want to be, they may shteig temporarily, but eventually all their energy will fizzle out." He sighed deeply. "If Yehuda's heart remains in Scotland, placing him in yeshiva may well be counterproductive. Between that danger and the fact of his previous success at Hogwarts-"

Tatty cut the rabbi off with an agitated gesture. "But how- Rabbi Zeller- we can't just give up on him! He's supposed to go back to yeshiva, that was always the plan-" He broke off, seemingly near tears.

For the thousandth time Yehuda felt sick with the guilt of his differentness. His siblings never caused their parents such trouble; even Esti, with her arguments and painted nails, had never chosen to attend a goyish school. If he were a better boy, he would end it all and say he would go back to yeshiva, but he could not make his mouth say the words.

"Plan? Whose plan?" The rabbi spoke quietly. "I assure you, Reb Meir, that you are not giving up on your son. You are merely allowing him to grow in his own way, to train himself in the use of the unique gifts Hashem has given him. Hashem's plan is the only one that counts; we down here can only follow. Yehuda-"

Yehuda startled. He had not been included in the discussion up to now.

"If you could please step outside for a moment, I'd like to speak with your parents privately. Put some thought, also, into whether you're really certain that this is what you want."

So he fidgeted in the hallway outside the study as his parents' and the rabbi's voices murmured from behind the door. Did he really want to go back? With the responsibility of the actual decision weighing on him, when Rabbi Zeller had said that it was only the right thing to do if he couldn't be happy anywhere else, it was much harder to know.

Could he be happy in yeshiva? He didn't know for sure that he couldn't. Perhaps he would slide back in at Yesodey, and after a few uncomfortable days life would return to normal, and eventually he would just live as a Muggle, as though he had never heard of Hogwarts, or magic.

And never meet another wizard again?

There were two halves to his life, and in Golders Green he would be the only person with magic, just as he was the only Jewish person at Hogwarts. He would be alone - and home was not like Hogwarts: if he stayed here, he would not have three months a year on holiday among wizards. He would never cast another spell, never Transfigure something or brew a potion again - because even if Rabbi Zeller said it was mutar, he could never do magic in Golders Green; his parents would never let, and even if they would, underage magic was illegal.

If he was honest with himself, he thought as the study door reopened, he had known for months that things would turn out this way. "I want to go back," he said sadly, when they asked him, and his father nodded.

Note: Will there be more? Maybe one day.

Glossary

Mishnayos. The mishna.

Inuyim. Literally, "afflictions". The various pleasures, including food, forbidden on Yom Kippur.

(Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement.)

Ba shabbos, ba menucha. When the Sabbath comes, rest comes. (Talmudic saying)

Davening. Prayers.

Kiddush. Shabbos or holiday blessing over wine.

Seudah. Celebratory meal.

Hamotzi. Literally, "who brings forth". Blessing over bread.

He couldn't talk. As per Jewish law, one may not speak after washing for bread until one has eaten some bread.

Nu uh. The grunting noises commonly made to indicate that one has washed for bread. (Yes, it's weird.)

Halacha. Jewish law.

Muktzeh. Forbidden to be handled on Shabbos.

Assur. Forbidden.

Safrus. Ritual script.

Lag BaOmer. A (very) minor holiday.

Siyum. A celebration upon completing a section of mishna or Talmud.

Goyish. Non-Jewish.

Goyim. Non-Jews.

Pikuach nefesh. Endangerment of life, for which most of Jewish law is suspended.

Tamim tihiyeh. "You should be whole" (Deuteronomy 18:13), from the prohibition against magic. See the original Goldstein, Chapter 2.

Heter. Permission.

Shkiah. Sunset.

Bedikas chometz. The search for chometz (leavened bread, which may not be present in the house on Passover), performed the night before Passover.

Erev pesach. Passover eve.

Yom tov. Holiday.

Zman. Time.

Bedikah. Search.

Shtussim. Nonsense.

Middos. (Good) character traits.

Mitzvah/mitzvos. Commandment/commandments.

Sefer. Holy book.

Frum. Religious.

Yiddishkeit. Judaism.

Shul. Synagogue.

Aveira. Sin.

Chol hamoed. Intermediate holiday.

Kishuf. Magic.

Shitas haRambam. Opinion of Maimonides.

Assered. Forbidden.

Mutar. Permitted.

Drashos haRan. A popular medieval work of Jewish philosophy.

Teshuvos haRivash. Responsa of the Rivash (Halachic work).

Ramban. Nachmanides.

Hashkafa. Attitude toward/outlook on life.

Shidduch. Marriage match.

Yesh derech arucha shehi ketzara. There is a long way which is short. (Talmudic saying)

Gadol. Great Torah scholar.

Ruchniyus. Spirituality.

Hatzlacha. Success.

Shteig. Grow spiritually.