> “They have things like the atom bomb,
> So I think I'll stay where I "am"
>
> Civilization, I'll stay right here!”
> — ‘Civilization’, #3 on the American Muggle Music Charts, November 1947.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
The Fat Lady's portrait swung open, and Jack stepped into what should have been a sanctuary. Instead, the Gryffindor common room fell into that deafening silence that meant people had just been talking about you. Rain splashed against the windows outside.
A group of fourth-years huddled by the fire suddenly found their Herbology homework fascinating. The first-year girls studying at their table froze like rabbits. Two second-years whispered behind their hands, eyes darting to Jack and away. Even Lavinia Lloyd, who usually brightened at his approach, gave him a sympathetic look, quickly gathered her books and headed for the girls' dormitory.
"Oi! Semmes!" Teddy's deep voice boomed across the room. He was in their usual corner with Henry and Oliver. "Washington is on the wireless! They want to talk to you! Hand over your badge and Muggle gun!"
Jack smiled weakly, grateful for Teddy's ability to instantly defuse anything with inappropriate humor. He walked over as the rest of the common room shrugged and went about their business.
"Montfort's been spreading tales," Oliver said as Jack sank into an armchair.
"More like spreading questing beast dung," Henry added, his usual good humor edged with anger. "Load of rubbish about you being here illegitimately."
"Yeah, well." Jack stared into the fire. "My dad's working with Duke Hightower at the Ministry, so obviously I've been planted here to corrupt British youth with American degeneracy."
"Corrupt us?" Teddy snorted. "I’m pretty sure we’ve been corrupting you."
“Montfort is all fur coat and no knickers,” Oliver nodded, lighting a cigarette.
Jack barely heard them. All he could think about was Cassandra, and what she must think of him now. Would she believe Montfort? Had she known about their fathers' connection before? Did she think he was a rat?
Henry read Jack's expression and tapped him on the hand. "Listen, Jack. This isn't going away on its own. You need to talk to MacLeod."
"What?" Jack looked up. "Why?"
"Because," Eustace Grymes appeared behind Jack's chair and leaned on it, "The Montforts run the Prophet. If Caeso’s started this rumor campaign, it won't stop at school gossip. This is a multi-pronged offensive he’s waging."
Jack slumped deeper into his chair. He really didn't want this to escalate. "You really think he'd—"
"Oh yes," Henry said firmly. "He would. And MacLeod needs to hear it from you first."
"He's right," Eustace confirmed. "Better to get out ahead of it."
Jack looked around the common room again. A first-year girl - her name was McGonagall - squeaked and dove behind her textbook when their eyes met.
He exhaled heavily. "Swell. Just swell."
The walk to MacLeod's office in the Academic Wing felt longer than his usual trek to Defense class. Jack knocked on the heavy oak door, hearing a Scottish brogue bark "Enter!"
Professor MacLeod was at his desk, surrounded by essays on counter-jinxes. His beard didn’t hide his frown.
"Ah, Semmes. I was wondering when you'd show up." He gestured to a chair. "Sit down lad."
Jack sat, not sure exactly where to begin. "Sir, there's been... well, there's a photo in today's Prophet..."
"Aye, the famed Thomas Semmes. The Hero of Delft,” MacLeod nodded. "And now some young rabble rouser is spinning tales that would make the Quibbler blush."
"You know about that?"
"Lad, I'm your Head of House. It's my job to know." MacLeod leaned back, studying Jack. "And I’m glad you came to me as soon as ye did."
"I didn't want to make trouble, sir." Jack gripped his armrests. “I thought I could handle it.”
"Handle it?" MacLeod's voice softened. "Mr. Semmes, listen to me. You're a bairn, in a foreign country, dealing with things you don't fully understand yet. No one expects you to handle everything alone."
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"But sir, what they’re saying—"
"Is complete nonsense, and we both know it." MacLeod stood behind his desk. "But nonsense can be dangerous. Especially nowadays. People are frightened, Jack. The war's over, but the wounds are fresh. Makes ‘em quick to see threats where none exist."
He stopped, fixing Jack with a piercing look. "I fought alongside your father, you know. Against Grindelwald."
Jack's head snapped up. "You did?"
"Aye. Good man in a fight. Even better man after." MacLeod stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I'll speak to Professor Winterborn about her high-steppin’ Ravenclaws. And Jack?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Next time something's troubling ye, don't wait so long to tell me. That's what I'm here for." He smiled through his beard. "Now, be off. And tell Marshwiggle that if he's planning another midnight mission to the kitchens, the house-elves have been instructed to hit him with Stinger Hexes."
Jack headed back to Gryffindor Tower unreassured. He knew all of his classmates were reading that damnable newspaper. The rain kept hammering against the castle windows, a dark and gloomy Scottish afternoon. Water streamed down the leaded glass, distorting the view of the grounds outside into a gray blur.
"Miserable out there," Henry observed as Jack climbed back through the portrait hole. He was lounging in an armchair by the window, watching the rain. "Proper British weather, this."
"Makes me miss Mount Greylock," Jack muttered, dropping into the chair beside him. Thunder rumbled outside. Down in the Quad Peeves could be heard singing a lewd version of "Singin' in the Rain."
"So what's the word with MacLeod?" Henry asked, sitting up straighter.
Jack sighed. "He'll chat with Winterborn about getting the Ravenclaws to lay off the whole 'Semmes is an American spy' business. That's all he can do right now, since it's just talk."
Teddy snorted. "Fat lot of good that'll do. Montfort doesn't listen to Winterborn any more than he listens to us."
"Hopefully they keep it just talk," Oliver said, glancing up from his book with a concerned frown.
"We've got two hours ‘til dinner," Teddy announced. He was attempting to balance his wand on his nose. "And I'm not about to start my Divination essay yet. Anyone fancy Exploding Snap?"
"What are we, first years?" Oliver snorted from behind his Potions textbook.
“A game would be fun though,” Henry nodded.
"Do you have Wizard's Tower?" Jack asked suddenly, perking up. "We played it all the time at Ilvermorny."
"'Course we do!" Henry jumped up and went to the games cubby tucked in the corner. He pulled out an ornate wooden box, its surface decorated with moving miniature battles. "Right here with Chess and Gobstones."
The terrain on each hexagonal game tile materialized upward like a fountain as Henry and Oliver set them up. Tiny trees swayed in a breeze across the forest tiles, while the mountain peaks were dusted with actual snow. The village tiles showed miniature thatched cottages with smoke curling from their chimneys.
"I call House Draconis," Teddy declared immediately, snatching up the red pieces. His Wizard Lord piece roared, breathing a tiny jet of magical flame.
"Sylvaine," Henry said, taking the green. His treants stretched their branches as if waking from a long sleep.
"Nocturne," Oliver chose, his gold Wizard Lord vanishing and reappearing across his starting area.
"Guess that leaves me with Celestara," Jack grinned, admiring how his blue hippogriff riders preened their feathers. “Always liked their style.”
The magical weather generator spun and settled on a stormy setting to match the day outside - their pieces had to wade through mud and shield themselves from magical rain. Jack's hippogriff riders struggled against the buffeting winds, while Henry's treants looked like they were enjoying the wet conditions.
"Franklin's kite, you're aggressive," Jack laughed as Teddy immediately launched an all-out assault on Oliver's territory, his pieces charging into the mud with reckless abandon. “Haven’t you guys ever studied Agincourt?”
"Face first. That's Teddy's strategy for everything," Henry observed dryly, carefully maneuvering his forces along interior lines. "Including girls."
"Says the fellow who spent two years working up the courage just to talk to Mulholland," Teddy retorted, then gaped as one of his witch-knights, for some reason wearing considerably less armor than the others, pranced across the board jingling with every step. "Cor, what the bloody hell is that?"
"Fourth-years been tampering with the pieces again," Oliver chuckled as the scantily-clad witch-knight struck a pose.
Teddy leaned over the table to get a better look, "How did they find the time?”
Henry steepled his fingers in front of his mouth like a master strategist as his treants marched into a line of forest hexes and vanished. "Perhaps the better question, Marshy, is whether you’ve asked a certain Hufflepuff—"
"Thank you, Hal," Teddy growled, just as Oliver’s disciplined archers (arranged in a defense-in-depth) transfixed his witch-knight in a storm of tiny arrows. She fell to the muddy ground, shouting melodramatically before going limp.
"A stirring sight," Oliver said, golf-clapping. "Shame it’s such a waste, Teddy."
“‘There are no bad soldiers, only bad generals,’” quoted Jack. “Napoleon.”
“That’s enough out of you too, Yank!” Teddy barked, trying to keep his forces from routing. “
The four sides clashed piecemeal. Jack's blue hippogriff riders leapt over the front line, ignoring the mud and diving through the magical rain to harass Teddy’s supply lines. Oliver put all his resources into constructing an impressive network of defensive fortifications that stretched like a spider’s web across his gold territory. Teddy's remaining red forces launched increasingly desperate attacks, depleting themselves against Oliver’s defenses and Jack’s raids.
Henry's strategy was patient and masterful - his treants used the weather and forested terrain to their advantage, waiting until Jack had committed himself against Teddy before striking him in the flank. Blue and Gold forged a temporary alliance against Henry’s Green, but Oliver’s turtling strategy prevented him from bringing any forces to Jack’s aid in time before the Green forces controlled two-thirds of the board and had besieged Jack’s tower.
The clock tower struck six.
"Thank Merlin, dinner," Oliver said with relief, as Henry's Treants were about to deliver the final blow.
"At home we'd say saved by the bell," Jack commented.
"I think we can call this one for House Ravenhurst," Teddy said grumpily. He had stopped really trying about fifteen minutes ago. "No need to pick this up after dinner, plus Jack will have detention anyway."
The remaining pieces on the board agreed. Oliver's gold forces bowed formally to Henry's troops, while Jack's blue army held their spears up in a salute. Teddy's surviving red pieces threw a tantrum, hurling their tiny weapons down and storming back off to their box in a pique.
"Always the good sport, our Teddy," Henry smirked, standing and stretching as little green fireworks burst above the battlefield.