“It is of great importance for a leader to keep his plans secret; Godric Gryffindor was right when he said that if his wizard hat knew what was in his head, he would toss it into the flames. That kind of secrecy was practicable in Gryffindor's time when his followers were kept closely by his side; but when maneuvers of the scale of the Vendée Terror are fought, and battles are waged as in our day, what concert of action can be expected from wizards who are utterly ignorant of the enchantments and plots unfurling around them?”
- Excerpt from The Principles of Magical Warfare by Antonius Grimini, 1836. Translated from the French by Cephas Parrott
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Jack trudged out of History of Magic feeling sorry for himself. Professor Binns had droned on about the Wizarding Conference of Europe, though Jack's ears had perked up at a brief mention that "Grindelwald's rise would be covered later in term."
He was just heading down the corridor towards Ancient Runes when Caeso Montfort's tall figure emerged from the crowd.
"Semmes," Montfort called out, his cultured accent carrying over the hubbub. “Fancy a word?”
Jack stopped, momentarily confused. “What is it?” he asked as Montfort approached. This close to him, Jack realized that the Ravenclaw captain had nearly three inches on him. He took a step back to not be so obviously looking up at him.
Montfort held up a copy of the Daily Prophet with a flourish and snapped the newspaper open to the front page.
Jack felt the blood drain from his face.
“It’s funny,” Caeso said, with a joking aspect, “I seem to recall having a very similar conversation with you about this just a few days ago!”
"Hey..." a nearby Ravenclaw boy squinted at the photo. "Isn't that Duke Hightower?"
“Who’s that with him?” a girl asked, stepping next to Jack to take a look.
Montfort smiled toothily. “That, my friends,” he said, pausing to allow more students to gather around, “Is our MACUSA boy’s father! Smile for our classmates now, Semmes, that’s a good lad. Be a dutiful son.”
Jack looked around at the tightening circle around them. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He wished he knew how to apparate.
"So that's why you've been trying to talk to her," a Ravenclaw boy added with a smirk of recognition. “Flying around our common room like that.”
“Listen up, Montfort,” Jack said hotly. "My father's job has nothing to do with-"
"Nothing to do with what?" Montfort’s voice was pure inoffensiveness. "Your presence here? The first transfer student to Hogwarts in decades? The first American transfer ever? Your attempts to ingratiate yourself with certain of our classmates? Go ahead, please tell us, Mr. Semmes.”
“Look.” Jack took hold of his school bag’s strap, “I applied here just like everyone, you can check my grades and letters-”
“Oh, you must forgive me…who approved that transfer then?” Montfort asked quizzically, looking around at their audience.
Jack knew he was walking into a trap, but he had no idea what else to say. “The Ministry did.”
“Specifically the Department of Magical Foreign Affairs?” Montfort handed off the paper to a nearby Ravenclaw, who displayed the photo caption for curious newcomers.
“Probably,” Jack put his hand into the pocket of his robe and balled his fist as hard as he could.
“Semmes.” Caeso leaned on one foot casually, “Do you really think we're all as stupid as your fellows up in Gryffindor Tower?"
“He’s a mole,” said a Slytherin sixth-year. “How much do they pay you?”
Jack’s head snapped around, “I’m not a mole! I’m just a student like you!”
“Aye, getting special treatment already,” remarked a Ravenclaw girl. “Getting put in advanced courses, probably getting personalized attention from the faculty too.”
The students around her murmured in agreement.
Jack instinctively caught sight of Cassandra at the edge of the crowd. She turned and walked away quickly. He snapped his eyes back to Caeso, but Montfort didn’t miss a thing.
"You've been hovering," Montfort said, a nasty light gleaming in his eyes. "Little snake in the grass. Cozying up to the Duke's daughter, ambitious for a Yank. Is that the game, Semmes?"
“There’s no game here,” Jack replied firmly. His fingernails bit into his palm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
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“We ought to toss him right back in the Atlantic,” suggested the Ravenclaw holding the paper.
“Yeah, make ‘im swim home!” laughed a boy from the back.
There were several cries of agreement. Someone shoved Jack from behind.
He felt the circle’s energy rising, teetering on the brink of a mob. He felt his wand, heavy in his pocket. He knew reaching for it would set them off.
"Now, friends, friends," Caeso raised his hands magnanimously, his voice taking on the measured tones of reason. "Let's not lower ourselves to that sort of behavior. We're not Americans, after all." A ripple of laughter broke some of the tension. "Violence would only vindicate their worries!"
He turned to Jack, his expression now patrician concern. "No one's suggesting you aren't a capable wizard, Semmes. Your practical skills are quite impressive for someone with your educational background. But surely you understand our concerns? When the son of a MACUSA spy- I beg your pardon- MACUSA agent, suddenly appears at Hogwarts - the first ever American transfer student to Hogwarts by the way - and begins immediately pursuing connections with certain prominent families, you have to agree it looks a certain way!"
Murmurs swept through the crowd. Jack noticed how Montfort stood just inside the circle, ensuring that everyone could see and hear him.
"If you're truly here just to study," Montfort continued smoothly, "then surely you won't object to a formal inquiry into your admission? Just to clear the air. After all, Hogwarts has standards to maintain and procedures that must be followed." He smiled winningly. "Unless there's something Mr. Semmes here would rather not have examined?"
Jack felt the jaws of the trap snap shut around him.
"I think everyone would feel more comfortable," Montfort concluded, "if we could be certain everything was properly vetted. Don't you all agree?"
“My da works at the Department for Magical Education,” piped up a Ravenclaw boy. “He’d be more than happy to listen to our concern!”
The crowd was nodding now. No more calls for violence. Just the cold, methodical machinery of bureaucracy grinding into motion.
“Splendid!” Caeso clapped his hands, “So we’re all agreed!”
"Your demagoguery is tedious, Caeso." Cyprian Venge slipped his way through to the front of the crowd.
"The family portrait speaks.” Montfort's smile widened. “The glorious Venge family, bastion of civilization, pretenders to lost glory! Perhaps that's why you and Semmes get along so well – both of you posing as something you're not."
“Semmes is a fellow wizard,” Cyprian replied. “We discourse. Petty national disputes are for Muggles.”
"Your famous conservatism," Montfort's voice dripped with mock reverence. "Tell me, how has that worked out? Oh wait-" He made a show of consideration, rubbing his chin. “Your system enabled Grindelwald to burn and kill half of Europe for the sake of his Greater Good.”
“Grindelwald was a vulture,” Venge stared up at Caeso fearlessly. “Much like your kind, Montfort. Birds of a feather.”
The crowd recoiled, especially the Ravenclaws.
Montfort kept his smile plastered on his face. "My kind? You mean those of us who fight against fascism?"
"I mean those who play politics with school children rather than face real problems." Cyprian turned to address the circle. "You're all so worried about American influence? He jabbed a finger at the newspaper. "You think your playground plotting matters compared to what's coming?"
"Always the prophet of doom," Montfort laughed, carefully gauging the crowd's reaction. “Cyprian the Crow, cawing ill tidings!”
“Hi there, what’s going on here?” cried a voice. Moments later, Eustace Grymes pushed through and into the circle. “What’re you lot doing with my housemate?”
“A lynching,” Venge supplied grimly.
"Really?" Grymes looked around, "Nice weather for it." His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Now then, class starts in five minutes, and you have Divination don’t you, Caeso?”
He stepped in between Jack and Montfort. "Come along, Semmes.”
"We were not finished," Montfort said, but some of the onlookers were already leaving. The spell was broken. The show was over.
"Oh, I think you are," Grymes replied, his eyes locked on Montfort’s.
Montfort held his gaze for a moment, then folded the newspaper with deliberate care. "Another time, Semmes."
"We’re looking forward to it," Grymes answered before Jack could speak. He clapped Jack's shoulder firmly, steering him away from the dispersing circle. Cyprian stepped out of sight behind a corner.
"Sorry I didn't get there sooner," he said cheerily once they were clear. "Was stuck in with Binns. You alright?"
"Yeah," Jack grunted. His heart was still racing.
"Listen, mate," Grymes glanced back over his shoulder, voice dropping. "Congratulations again on your father making the news and all that, but you might want to talk to Professor MacLeod about what just happened. Your father’s an envoy right?”
“Yeah, to the Foreign Affairs Department” Jack replied dully, his mind trying to process his next move after this. Should he talk to MacLeod? He didn’t dare write home about this. And he still had Ancient Runes to get through…
“Can’t be any harm in that,” Eustace said, “He’s a diplomat, you know. All above board.”
"Thanks," Jack said. "For stepping in."
"Gryffindors stick together," Grymes smiled. “My father worked for the Ministry too; would love to share stories sometime.”
“Yeah,” Jack replied, “That sounds good.”
“Hey,” Eustace checked quickly around them, “Be careful around Venge. He’s been asking questions about what your father does and how long you’ll be in Britain.”
“Really?” Jack started.
"I overheard him in the library yesterday," Grymes looked very serious. "He was asking Madam Quillworth about access to Ministry personnel records from the archives. Specifically from the early war years. They were in the Restricted Section."
Jack felt his stomach drop. "Why would he—"
"His family has history." Grymes whispered. "You know how Slytherins are. They weren't on our side during the war. Oh, they switched in the middle, sure, when they saw which way the wind was blowing. But pure-bloods like that..." He shook his head. "They look out for themselves."
"I thought he was an ok guy," Jack protested.
"I could be wrong," Grymes added, touching Jack's shoulder. "Just be careful around him. Stick with Ravenhurst, he’ll take care of you."
Jack had a sensation of spiders crawling over him.
"Thanks," he said dully.
"That's what friends are for," Grymes smiled, “Here’s my class, go on quickly to Runes and walk back with friends afterwards!”
Jack continued on alone.