"Speaking of Muggles," a tall, skinny sixth-year boy with parted red hair said, leaning around Henry to fix Jack with a penetrating stare. "What's with Americans and their obsession with them? MACUSA is practically part of the Muggle government."

“Come off it Grymes, everyone knows the Yanks are mad about Muggles,” Henry shook his head laughing, trying to deflect the question. “It’s their personal little obsession, like us with Quidditch.”

“Aye, being here is probably better for your state of mind, Semmes,” Oliver added, bringing a water jug over to fill up his glass with a sweep of his wand. “It’ll help to ground you back in reality.”

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Grymes’ gimlet eyes bored into him. He knew there was some truth to the rumor, his father had worked for MACUSA's No-Maj Bureau before being transferred over here, and he'd heard him speak about joint magical-No-Maj operations during the war. But he also knew that information was definitely classified, and not something to be shared with a bunch of British teenagers, classmates or not.

"What you said about us and the No-Maj government…that's not true," he said firmly, meeting Grymes’ gaze. "MACUSA has always maintained a strict policy of separation from No-Maj politics. Even the rest of the wizarding world. Heck, we didn't even join in the fight against Grindelwald until he attacked us!"

"But didn't you help the Muggles in their big war?" the braided girl asked, her eyes wide. "Against the Germans and the Japanese? I mean, you just said you basically live with them at Ilvermorny-"

“The Americans have been trending towards greater integration with Muggle government for years,” Grymes interrupted, speaking with great authority on the subject. “They have a full-fledged Muggle-business office to coordinate policy efforts, not like our Ministry that only talks with Muggles when it's time to delete inconvenient memories.”

Jack flinched. Not entirely true…his dad made it sound like the No-Maj Bureau mainly handled airspace deconfliction between MACUSA flying cars and U.S. Army Air Corps aircraft. But what Grymes was saying had the ring of truth, and he could see kids around the table nodding in agreement. He had to say something. He knew his father had been involved in some capacity with No-Maj. But again, the details were vague, and he knew better than to run his mouth on things that were better left secret.

"No, we don’t," he said, shaking his head as Henry passed him a tray of various fruit tarts, "The Muggle war was Muggle business, not ours. MACUSA minded its own store and stayed out of the war. Just like your Ministry and your Prime Minister with the German War."

Henry started to say something, but then he stopped himself.

“That’s not what I’ve been reading,” Grymes looked skeptical. “You're helping them now. With their A-tom-micks. And Rock-its.”

Jack nearly choked on his water. How did this kid know about that? Those were top-secret projects, the kind of thing his father had only ever mentioned in hushed tones behind closed doors. If his dad found out he was blabbing about it to foreign wizards...

"I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted, too quickly. "The U.S. government doesn't believe in magic. If they ever catch wind of rumors about wizards in America they think we're just a bunch of creepy cultists living in the hills, weird but harmless. They just won the Big War, why would they want our help?"

“Maybe because they’ve had it all along,” Grymes continued to stare, looking unconvinced. “Maybe the Big War isn’t over yet.”

Thankfully, Henry chose that moment to jump in.

"Leave off, Eustace," he said good-naturedly. "Can't you see the poor bloke's exhausted? He's had a long day, and the last thing he needs is an interrogation about Muggle politics."

Eustace Grymes unwillingly subsided, turning his attention to his dessert. Jack shot Henry a grateful look, and the other boy winked at him. “Don’t hold it against him,” Henry whispered, “He’s had a hard go of it, Grymes. Brilliant though.”

After that, the conversation turned away from Ilvermorny to more mundane topics: Quidditch rankings, professor ratings, difficulty of upcoming classes, the latest prank products from some place called Zonko’s. Jack let himself relax slightly. But he couldn't completely shake the uneasy feeling that Eustace's questions had stirred up.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He was here to finish up his magical education and graduate, not get caught up in international intrigue. Whatever MACUSA was or wasn't doing with the No-Majs, it had nothing to do with him. Just like those dark wizards in Liverpool. All of that nonsense and grown-up business was far away now, outside the enchanted walls of Hogwarts.

Once the feast had finished and began to magically clear away, Henry, Oliver and Teddy led Jack at a brisk pace out of the Great Hall main doors and to the left, through the Reception Hall. Ancient suits of armor stood sentinel along the walls, their helmets turning slightly to track the boys’ passage. “Kitchens are down that way,” Henry pointed out a brightly-lit spiral staircase that led underneath the Great Hall. Warm golden light and the smell of baking bread wafted up. “Along with the bakery, the brewery, and the Hufflepuff Common Room. No need to really go down there unless you’re a Huffle or a house elf, or Teddy.”

"The house-elves like me,” Teddy replied casually, in response to Jack’s questioning look.

“He’s dating a Hufflepuff,” Oliver added, receiving a light Kicking Hex for his trouble.

From the Reception Hall, they ascended the Grand Staircase, a dizzying five-story spiral of moving staircases that seemed to operate on their own inscrutable logic. Portraits of unknown graduates lined the walls in legions all the way up, stern-faced wizards in ruffs and doublets, witches in medieval dress, even a group of dour druids who appeared to be playing chess with actual miniature warriors with stone weapons. One of the pieces received a lethal wound, spouting blood gorily all over the front of the canvas to Jack’s horror.

"Watch the bannister," Oliver warned as their current staircase began to swing away from their intended destination. "It stays still as the stairs move. It’ll yank you right off into oblivion."

Jack’s feet tingled as he surveyed the drop that suddenly yawned beneath them, sixty feet straight down to the stone basement below.

“Is there any rhyme or reason to their movement?” Jack asked as they waited patiently for the stairs to return to their original position. “Do they take Sundays off?”

“Oh no, Sundays are their worst,” Teddy remarked. “They get bored because of low foot traffic and come up with new patterns.”

“This is taking too long,” Henry stepped off the stairs and led them down a corridor one floor down from where they had planned to alight. “We’ll just bypass Fac Tower and get to the Quad that way.”

The corridor led to a set of open double doors leading into a warmly-lit residential tower, and a staircase to the right. Henry took them right, up two more flights of stairs, and out a thick wooden door.

They emerged into the Quad Courtyard, a relatively small cloistered space surrounded on all sides by massive walls and towers that stretched up into the darkness like the ramparts of a donjon. Jack tried to orient himself, following Henry's pointing finger.

"Right, we’ll start with the north and work our way around.” Henry said, “Ravenclaw Tower is right there, second tallest in the castle.” Jack strained his eyes, he couldn’t even see the top of the turret in the night sky. “That's where their common room is, way up there. Just to the tower’s left, you can see the Bridge Gate."

A narrow postern gate in the wall led to a delicate wrought iron suspension bridge spanning the gorge to connect with a severe citadel of granite and marble.

"That way to the Academic Wing," Teddy supplied. "Most of our classes are there. Transfig, Astronomy, Charms, History, Defense, Mug Stud..."

“Convenient to be a Gryffindor, we have the shortest walk to our classrooms,” Oliver noted with satisfaction. “Slytherin has to race all the way from the dungeons every morning, they’re only close to Potions and Arithmancy.”

"Grand Staircase behind us of course,” Henry’s hand swept around to the east. Now that they were outside, Jack could see that they had just exited the massive round tower that dominated the castle next to the Great Hall. “You can get down this way or the way we just came through. Top of the Grand Staircase is the Headmaster’s Office, no good reason to ever go there. Faculty Tower to the south," he continued, pointing to the rectangular residential building they had just exited. "Married teachers live in Hogsmeade, so that's where the unmarried teachers live. Prefects get their own quarters up there too."

“Prefects get their own rooms?” Jack's eyes lingered on the mixture of lit and unlit windows.

"Supposed to help them stay more impartial. Don't even think about it," Henry warned, catching Jack’s look. "Those stairs are more heavily warded than Gringotts. No one gets in there uninvited short of an invisibility cloak, which last I checked are all with the Ministry. Hightower would probably pitch you headfirst off the top of the parapet if you tried."

Jack grinned, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

"Course not. And in case you do, the Hospital Wing's right there next door in the southwest tower. Underneath it,” Henry gestured to a wide gate in the south wall, “The Clock Tower, its courtyard, and the South Gate. Hogsmeade is out that way. And finally..."

They turned to the western tower, shorter than Ravenclaw's soaring spire but more solid, more grounded. Red and gold banners flew from its battlements, the gilding magically illuminated and shining in the dark sky like streaks of starfire.

"Gryffindor Tower," Henry concluded.