> “Read the Prophet, Reap the Profit” - Slogan of the Daily Prophet from 1945-1969.

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Jack managed to get through Transfiguration without setting anything on fire, which was a small miracle given his mood. Professor Winterborn had them practicing matter phase transitions, starting with something nice and simple (her words): condensing water vapor into rain. Most of the class managed to produce at least a light drizzle over their desks. Jack's attempts alternated between nothing at all and sudden deluges that soaked his notes.

"You're slashing your wand like you're trying to cast Diffindo," Henry whispered after Jack's fourth failure. "Smooth circles, old sport.”

Jack grunted and tried again, forcing the spell through. This time he got a weak spitting, but his heart wasn't in it.

By lunch, he was radiating so much gloom that even Teddy noticed.

"Alright Semmes, out with it," Henry said quietly as they settled at the Gryffindor table. "You've been in a funk since Transfig."

Jack looked at the stack of melted cheese and bread on the table, “Are these grilled cheese?” he asked, trying to ignore the question.

“Welsh rarebit,” Oliver corrected. “And don’t dodge the question.”

"It's nothing," Jack muttered. Then, unable to help himself, “Ok, it’s dames."

“Singular or plural,” Henry asked. “Because none of us can help with the latter. That’s something to take up with God.”

“A singular broad,” Jack clarified.

"That’s simpler," Oliver nodded.

“Just snog her,” Teddy suggested. “If she likes you, you’ll know.”

“Shut up Ted,” Henry replied with a stern look. “That's terrible advice. And, given who he’s talking about, probably suicidal."

"Who says we're talking about anyone specific?" Jack protested weakly.

"Exhibit A," Oliver passed around the salad. "You've been alternating between sighing and staring at the Ravenclaw table every thirty seconds since we sat down. Exhibit B: You sat down on this side so that you could face them. And I doubt that you’re admiring Montfort’s luscious Absalom locks."

"I have not-" Jack caught himself mid-glance and slumped. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to anyone looking," Henry said kindly, patting him on the back. "And the furniture."

"It's just..." Jack sawed at his rarebit with unnecessary force. "One minute she's like a normal girl, next minute she's Brunhild, Ice Queen of Prussia. I don't get it. Yesterday in Muggle Studies, we're having an actual conversation about music. She smiled…well almost. Then I catch Montford mean mugging us. Then today in Potions..." He described the awkwardness and her increasingly distant responses.

"Wait, back up," Henry interrupted. "How exactly did you end up with her? Vale just put you together by chance?"

Jack felt his ears turning red.

"I…adjusted the partner list," he grinned self-consciously.

"You didn't," Oliver breathed.

"Plagiarismo," Jack admitted.

"That took some minerals," Teddy whistled admiringly.

“You bloody idiot.” Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Vale would have strung you up by your thumbs if he had caught you.”

"Yeah, well, he didn’t catch me,” Jack declared. “And it was going fine until I tried to thank her for not destroying my life over the tower buzzing incident on Sunday. Then suddenly she’s all-” he mimicked her accent, “'It was the practical solution', 'your cuts are too coarse.’”

"Jack," Henry shook his head, "You are overthinking this."

"No, I'm clearly not thinking enough! Because I keep doing stupid things like trying to talk to her hoping that she might..." Jack trailed off, watching Cassandra enter the Great Hall with a group of her housemates. She didn't look his way.

"Look here, old bean," Henry said, "Have you ever wondered why you’re the only boy in the whole school trying to talk to her?”

“No,” Jack said dully. “I thought you said it was because she was intimidating.”

“Bosh.” Teddy tossed his head, a long lock of hair fell loose from his part and fell across his face. “You think ‘intimidating’ is a good enough reason for us to not talk to a witch that looks like that? Do you think we’re all knobless geldings over here, Yank?”

"Merlin's beard," Oliver muttered to the others, "You should have told him earlier. Save the poor sod the trouble."

"Told me what?" Jack demanded.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Listen Jack,” Henry leaned in closer, lowering his voice further. "Cassandra Hightower does not get asked to Hogsmeade. She does not get secret admirer notes. She does not get bad poetry dedicated to her. She’s top of our class, probably Head Girl next year. Her life has been arranged since she was two."

"Arranged?" Jack felt his stomach drop at the double-meaning.

"Simple upper crust politics, mate," Teddy explained. "The Montforts go back to the Norman Conquest. Hightowers go even further back. Her father's a real nabob at the Ministry. Montfort's family runs the Daily Prophet. Do the arithmancy."

"No. No way. You're telling me she's..." Jack couldn't finish the sentence.

"Promised. Betrothed," Henry explained. "Why d'you think Montfort's watching you in class like a hungry falcon?”

He poked Jack in the chest.

“You're mucking about with his future wife."

Jack felt ill. The table spun in front of his eyes.

"But that's... that's not done!” he protested. “This’s medieval!"

"This is magical Britain," Oliver tapped the table. "The old and important families all arrange marriages. Keeps the bloodlines in nice circles, consolidates power, all that codswallop."

"Does she..." Jack stifled his eyes from going towards the Ravenclaw table where Cassandra was sitting. "There’s no way she’s ok with that!"

"She’s a girl. What she thinks doesn't matter much." Teddy scoffed. "Though I expect she's been raised to think that it's her duty. Proper stuck-up witch."

"You’re new, ignorant of the rules," Henry said, kicking Teddy under the table. "So when you tried to thank her, you put her in a difficult position. Any hint of friendliness toward you would be noticed. Reported. Girls like her learn early to keep their distance from unsuitable boys."

"Unsuitable?" Jack bristled. “I am suitable! I’m a suitor! I wear suits!”

"American. Transfer student. Pure-blood but dubious parentage (no offense, but I know you Yanks don’t keep records like we do). Unknown quantity. Bit rough around the edges..." Henry ticked off on his fingers. "Plus you've already gotten crosswise with Montfort and-”

On cue, the day’s issue of the Daily Prophet landed on the table, dropped off by a tardy owl.

“Cor!” Teddy reached a lanky arm over and swept it up. "Well, well, gentlewizards, would you look at this!"

“MINISTRY DEBATES CLOSER TIES WITH MACUSA” blazed the headline.

Jack saw the photo right above the centerfold, taken in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic: his father, looking like Sam Spade in a fedora and a double-breasted coat, shaking hands with a tall wizard with bushy sideburns and a top hat that Jack had never met, but whose mien and surname was unmistakable. "The Duke of Hightower, Senior Undersecretary, welcomes MACUSA Senior Envoy Thomas J. Semmes to the Department of Magical Foreign Affairs,” read the caption.

“Annnnd…your father works for MACUSA," finished Henry.

Silence around the table.

"Congratulations on your father's appointment," Eustace appeared behind them, reading the paper over Jack’s shoulder. "Quite the important position."

Jack gripped the newspaper so hard that it crinkled. Worst-case scenarios burst in his mind like supernovae. No wonder Cassandra had looked at him like that. She probably thought he was trying to kiss up, or worse!

"My father works for her father," Jack wanted to bury his head in his hands. "And her father is a duke… Is that bad? Are dukes important?"

Henry looked at him with a mix of pity and amusement. "Remember how I told you about my family, the Earls Ravenhurst? A duke is two levels above that. There are only seven ducal peerages in all of Wizarding Britain, and two of them are Scots. The Duke of Hightower is one of the oldest - they've had a seat on the Wizengamot since the Romans left and Merlin built it."

“Oh cripes…” Jack groaned.

"Cassandra," Henry continued gently, "is his only child. The sole heir to one of the most powerful magical noble houses in Britain. When she comes of age, she'll be a duchess in her own right."

"Which means," Teddy added with relish, "that you've spent the past month chasing after wizarding royalty. Might as well have been making sheep eyes at Princess Elizabeth."

"I wasn't chasing-" Jack protested vainly.

"The tower incident was one thing," Teddy pressed on relentlessly. "She was just doing her prefect duties, and she cloaked her action with that adorable little bird.” He smirked. "Princesses can have their little flights of fancy, mate. Doesn't mean they’ll let a commoner near the crown. Because being friendly in class with you where people can see-"

"Would look improper," Jack finished dully.

"More than improper," Henry said. "It would be a scandal. The American son of a ministry subordinate and the daughter of the Duke of Hightower? The society pages would have a field day. This is why I warned you about Montfort earlier. His family's been intermarrying with the Hightowers for generations. In a lot of eyes, he's the best match for her."

Jack pushed his plate away, appetite gone. "Franklin's kite, I've been making a complete fool of myself."

"Don’t beat yourself up, old sport," Henry offered, "You didn't know. And what I said on Sunday still stands. I think she fancies you."

"Which makes it worse," Oliver interjected. "She knows what's expected of her. Pride of the family, future of the bloodline, all that-”

“Can't have anyone getting the wrong idea now!" Teddy helped himself to another rarebit.

"That's it," Henry said sympathetically. "And if you ask me, she doesn't seem too keen on Montfort. Have you seen how she looks at him when he's not watching?"

"No, because I'm too busy looking at her when she's not watching," Jack punched his thigh. "This is stupid. I'm stupid. I should be focusing on not failing out of Hogwarts, not..."

Jack watched as Montfort got up from the Ravenclaw table, saying something that made Cassandra's companions titter. She laughed along, looking for all the world like a normal girl for a moment.

Jack felt like he had been stabbed.

"The best thing to do," Oliver advised, "is to get through. No scheming, no cornering her in the hallway, no partner-switching tricks. Just...be normal, you know?”

“Unless all you’ve pulled in the past is you being normal," Teddy added unhelpfully. “In which case you should start playing a different bit part. A quieter one.”

"Right," Jack said, more sharply than he intended. "Thanks. Message received. Loud and clear."

"Semmes..." Henry started.

"No, it's fine. Really." Jack forced a grin. "Plenty of other fish in the sea, right? Even in this shark tank that you limeys call a school." He stood up, careless of his own wit. "I'm going to grab my Charms stuff before class. See you there, Eustace."

His friends exchanged looks as he left, but Jack ignored them. He had two more classes to get through, then another thrilling evening of detention to look forward to. He didn't have time for Anglo-Wizarding politics or arranged marriages or beautiful blondes.

He didn't have time to wonder why this news made him feel like he'd been hit in the back of the head with a two-by-four.