“I hope you love me so much that you’ll pay for my chiropractor,” groaned Ron, clapping his daughter on the back and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I missed you, too, sport.” He was pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was unshaven, but there was nothing weak about the broad smile he was wearing.
It was Saturday, and because they didn’t have any classes, Emma and her friends were granted permission to leave school to go to a Welcome Home party for Ron. The Ministry had let him out of Azkaban and replaced the vacancy with a certain Hadrian Bellowes. The Weasley house was packed with people”all of whom cheered and whooped like a crowd at the Quidditch World Cup upon Ron’s entrance.
It was a fantastic party. Haley, Fred, George, and Edwin were demonstrating Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ Bungee Beans, the thrill of which never got old (or your money back). Anatoly was showcasing his unexpected skill at making balloon animals, although his unorthodox choices in animals tended to confuse people. Only Anatoly would make balloon okapis, aye-ayes, babirusas, and cassowaries. As he twisted the balloons, he held a deep, serious conversation with three-year-old Jonathan that made no sense whatsoever to anyone else. Cecilia and her parents were drinking punch and chatting amiably, much more warmly than was typical for Cecilia.
Jordan watched them talking and laughing, Neville in his wheelchair and Luna with her milky eyes, and Cecilia suddenly patient and polite. She’d realized that their injuries weren’t signs of weakness, they were badges of courage just as much as Harry Potter’s scar.
Speaking of Harry... Jordan thought about how hard it had been for Emma to let him into her mind. And they were friends, cousins, had known each other their whole lives. Emma trusted him, or at least, as much as she was capable of trusting anyone, which wasn’t very much.
But Jordan’s father had let Voldemort, the evilest creature in the world, into his own mind. He had voluntarily let himself become weak, at Voldemort’s disposal. And he’d had so much love inside him that he’d destroyed Voldemort completely… it was almost impossible for Jordan to wrap his mind around it, and he was generally very talented at doing things with his mind.
He realized suddenly that his dad was standing right behind him. Jordan had spotted the glow of Harry’s brilliant green aura in his peripheral vision. “Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Harry. “You look like you just lost your best friend. Tell me I’m wrong, I paid good money for that computer.” Jordan looked profoundly un-amused, and Harry added hastily. “You’re not offended, are you? You know we all love you.”
Jordan shook his head, like a dog shaking water from its fur. “I’m fine,” he said, ignoring the gentle jab, and paused. “Dad,” he said uneasily. “I love you, too.”
Harry didn’t say anything. Jordan looked up at him and saw to his extreme discomfort that there were tears in his father’s eyes. Jordan did not like tears. And he’d already seen far too many of them far too recently. He blinked.
“Sorry,” said Harry quietly. “I just can’t remember ever hearing you say that before.”
Jordan felt even more awkward than before as Harry messed up his son’s already chaotic hair and headed off to get some food. I can’t remember ever hearing you say that, his father had said.
Jordan had always admired his father, in a strange, jealous way that felt an awful lot like hatred. He knew he could be really unpleasant. But was it really that much of a shock when he told people that he loved them? That would have to change. He remembered the cheesy glowing feeling he’d gotten when Haley had said she loved him because he was her brother, and now his dad had said he loved him as well. Maybe Ivy and Ted and Emma and Tyrone were onto something. Maybe you didn’t need to be a hormonally crazed freak to show a little love from time to time.
Speaking of hormonally crazed freaks, Tyrone seemed to be having a rather interesting little conversation with Emma’s father.
“What do you mean, why didn’t we ask your permission? It’s not like we went and eloped or anything!” exclaimed Emma, though she sounded more amused than angry. “Besides, you kind of weren’t available to ask, if you know what I mean.”
Ron looked stern. “You’re too young, Emma. How can I trust him with you?”
Emma laughed. “I’m seventeen, Dad. You were sixteen when you had your first girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but I was mature for my age.”
Hermione, passing by, let out a great snort.
“Shut up, Hermione.”
Tyrone flashed his most charming smile, which had never failed him before. “Believe me, sir, it took me like four years to get her to go out with me. We didn’t exactly rush into things.”
“I don’t trust kids who call people ‘sir,’” Ron muttered under his breath. “Besides, only old people are called ‘sir.’ I’m not that old.”
“Er, Dad…” began Emma.
“Right,” said Ron rather aggressively, sizing up Tyrone. “Have you ever gotten in trouble in school?”
“Er… only with Zabini,” Tyrone said nervously, “and he’s evil.”
“Can’t stand goodie-goodies,” muttered Ron. Emma and Tyrone exchanged glances, trying hard not to laugh. “Have you ever had a girlfriend before?” barked Ron.
Tyrone shrank back under Ron’s fierce gaze, despite the fact that he was nearly as tall and considerably better-muscled. “Erm… nine-ish, actually…” he mumbled.
“Nine-ish?” repeated Ron in a dangerously quiet voice.
“It’s… easy to lose count,” admitted Tyrone. “I mean, girls kind of just started asking me out since second year, and when you’re twelve or thirteen, having a girlfriend means eating lunch together and walking to class together.” He smiled apologetically. “I haven’t dated anyone since the school year started, though.” This was the wrong thing to say, and Tyrone knew it as soon as it left his mouth.
“Have you ever been in prison?” spat Ron.
Emma laughed again. “No, Dad, but you have. Just lay off him, will you?”
“Look,” said Tyrone, trying another tactic. “My dad, Dean Thomas, he went to school with you, remember? Yeah, he says you’re a good guy. He always thought something was up with Bellowes. Sorry we got into this argument. Dad wouldn’t be too happy if he knew I got you mad the day you got out of Azkaban.”
This made all the difference. Tyrone had always been uncannily talented at finding the way to people’s hearts, even if it took him a few tries.
Ron patted Tyrone on the back. “Oh, it’s all okay,” he said. “Just doing my job, annoying my daughter.” He turned to Emma, smiling. “Take care of him, will you, Emster?”
“Dad!” exclaimed Emma, “I told you not to call me that in front of my friends!”
Tyrone smiled. “I can see where Emma gets it all,” he said. “Thanks, Mr. Weasley.”
As he and Emma walked off across the room, Ron called, “And keep your hands where I can see them!”
“They’re just in my jacket pockets!” exclaimed Tyrone.
Ron grinned. “Yeah, I know. But I’m an Auror, aren’t I? And you know what our first rule is?”
Emma raised one eyebrow, hoping Haley wasn’t anywhere around. “No ogling the Deputy Head Auror’s daughter?” she asked drily.
“No, that’s the second rule,” said Ron.
“Well, then, I’m stumped. What could it possibly be?”
Ron smiled. “CONSTANT VIGILANCE.”
“Duckling!” exclaimed Haley, sneaking up on Anatoly behind and giving him a surprise hug attack. “What are you doing, sitting off in a corner, playing with balloons and talking about the anthropic principle to a three-year-old? You crazy kid, you!”
She realized, looking at Anatoly, that after all of the time she’d spent with him and all of the help he’d given her in so many ways, he didn’t even look ugly to her anymore. She was sure he wasn’t any better looking than he’d been the day she’d met him, but she’d gotten so used to feeling happy and excited at the sight of that face that she couldn’t remember what she’d ever found so distasteful about it.
Anatoly twisted his balloon back and forth, making obnoxious squeaking noises. “Well, my dear, as a dead man once said, I am a stranger in a strange land. Look at all these Gryffindors! Don’t worry, I’m used to being the weird, left-out kid in the corner. I’m really good at it, too. Practice makes perfect.”
“Why do you TRY to be some kind of weirdo outcast?” demanded Haley. “You are one awesome, adorable guy! Don’t tell me you’re worried people might like you!” She smiled. “Look, I know you like to act like you don’t care about anything, but I just wanted to say thank you for… everything you did for me this year. Especially at the Final Battle, because I’m pretty sure you saved my life. “
“You’re welcome,” said Anatoly, for once sounding borderline serious. “I’ll try not to let this whole ‘selfless’ thing become a habit. It might wreck my Slytherin cred, you see.” He handed Haley his new balloon masterpiece.
“Awww, I love it! What on earth is it?” squealed Haley.
Anatoly shrugged. “It’s called an aye-aye. Apparently, they’re a death omen or something. I think they’re cute.” His eyes drifted over the cr owd, and he did a double take of comical proportions. “Speaking of which, who the devil is that?” he inquired, inclining his head to a whirlwind of bright colours strolling by.
“Oh, that’s Giorgi,” explained Haley. “She lives next door. She’s a Muggle, but she knows all about the whole magic thing, so don’t worry. She’s actually really cool.”
“I may just be in love,” Anatoly told her solemnly.
“Ohhh, no you’re not!” squawked Haley, placing a finger to his lips.
Anatoly smirked. “What? Don’t tell me she’s actually taken.”
Haley treated him to her ‘mysterious face,’ which was still pretty non-mysterious. “Welllll,” she said coyly, “Let’s just say that she may not be officially taken, but she’s still…claimed. Don’t worry, though, I actually don’t think you’d be weird enough for her.”
“I…” Anatoly’s eyes scanned the room, then widened in understanding as they lit upon Jordan. “Ah. I see.”
Occlumency was amazingly effective, Ted thought to himself as he played absentmindedly with a balloon walrus. Incredibly difficult to learn, of course, though Jordan didn’t seem to feel that way, but once he got the hang of it, he felt the difference.
He didn’t have to fight ‘the wolf’ anymore”he couldn’t help but think of the wolfish part of him as ‘the wolf,’ as if it was someone else inhabiting his body and not just another side to his personality. Occlumency was like underwear”it made such a difference, but once you started using it, you hardly ever noticed it was there anymore. Of course, he’d decided to let his brain run wild and let the wolfish part of him take over whenever it was a full moon, just to keep things fair… though the increased dosage of Wolfsbane potion had kept him from rampaging amok and killing his classmates in their beds. Now that Ivy knew everything, he didn’t worry about having to ‘control’ himself in wolfish form anymore, and she was all right with that.
He was gradually returning to his old self. The Occlumency had helped, and Ivy, as well as the passage of time. But he was still quieter than usual, more withdrawn, less sure of himself”in short, he was uncannily similar to his own father at his age.
Time had been changed so that technically, Ted had never killed Balthazar. But the important thing wasn’t whether it had really happened or not. The important thing was that Ted knew that he was capable of killing, and that concept terrified him.
“Hello,” said a quiet voice. A rather good-looking young man with closely cropped white-blond hair and a set of clean blue-grey robes was standing next to him. It took Ted a minute to realize that it was Ophidias Malfoy, sans the shabby black robes and miserable expression.
“Hi, I’m Ophidias, Ivy’s…” Ophidias trailed off uncomfortably.
“Brother,” said Ted, smiling slightly.
“Yeah, Ivy’s brother,” finished Ophidias, returning the smile. He and Ivy might not legally be siblings anymore, but that didn’t mean they weren’t brother and sister. “So, are you, uh, Ted Lupin?”
Ted flicked his fringe out of his eyes. “Yep, I’m the stoner werewolf boyfriend.”
Ophidias laughed. “Sorry about that. But really, thanks for everything you did for my sister. She’s totally different from how she was when she started off at Hogwarts, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of you.” He paused. “Ivy’s been helping me out all year. She says you must be rubbing off onto her. Anyway, thanks. See you around.” Ophidias waved and headed off across the room to help himself to some cake.
Ophidias certainly seemed a lot happier. Ted remembered a few days before, Haley had exclaimed, “D’you know what the cutest set of couple names ever is?”
“Tyrone and Emma?” Tyrone had suggested innocently.
“No! Ophidias and Ophelia!” Haley had squealed. “Ophidias is going out with Ophelia Wood!”
A Slytherin and a Gryffindor dating”a Malfoy and a Wood. Haley’s Inter-House Unity project had certainly wrought some more impressive changes than simply getting a catchy song stuck in the whole school’s heads.
And Ophidias was thanking Ted for all he’d done for Ivy. Ted was so skilled at making people feel good about themselves. Why couldn’t he just manage it for himself? He had never felt sorry for himself before. He knew it was selfish to keep dwelling on his own problems when there were so many more important things, but he just couldn’t drop it. He hoped this was temporary. Jordan had been right, two Jordans was way too many for one world, and it was even less fun to be Jordan than hang out with him.
“Ted! Hey, Ted!”
He was lifted from his thoughts by his mother’s chipper voice. She came bounding toward him, her hair bright red to honour Ron.
“Hi, Mum,” said Ted, trying to look happy. His mother was a lot like an older Haley at times, which meant she got upset when not absolutely everyone else was at least as perky as she was.
“Sweetheart, your owl Zsa-Zsa delivered the Prophet a minute ago, and there’s an article on the front page that I can’t wait for you to see!” exclaimed Mrs. Lupin, her tone suspiciously close to a squeal.
Ted raised his eyebrows. “Is it about Ron and Emma and stuff?”
“Nope, too new,” Ted’s mother replied brightly. “It’s… oh, just look!” She thrust a rolled-up newspaper into Ted’s hand and he took it and unrolled it with interest.
Reading was not his strongest suit, but it was impossible for anyone to miss the bold headline spreading across the front page of the Daily Prophet.
In a remarkable breakthrough already compared by some to the invention of the shield charm, Hogwarts Potions Master Blaise Amadeus Zabini has created a potion that will wipe any traces of wolf DNA from werewolves’ genomes.
Zabini had been privately trying to create an anti-lycanthropy potion for over twenty years, but was not permitted by Madame Maritzka Malinkovsky, former Head of the International Bureau of Potion-makers, to receive a grant for research. In order to have access to more varied ingredients, Zabini applied for a position as Hogwarts Potions Porofessor.
Only within the last year did Madame Malinkovsky step down, and Heinrich Mechthild, the new Head of the IBPM granted Zabini resources and funds for his project.
With this, Zabini established the Mimosa Phelps Foundation for research and experimentation in lycanthropy treatments.
Mimosa “Mimi” Phelps was Zabini’s fiancée, bitten by Fenrir Greyback in her sixth year at Hogwarts. She and Zabini had already been dating for a year at this point. Although both were pure-blooded, Phelps was in Gryffindor and believed in Muggle rights, while Zabini was in Slytherin and did not. Phelps, who did not disclose the fact that she was a werewolf to anyone but her closest friends, did manage to convince her boyfriend to be more tolerant toward part-humans like her and Muggle-borns, but this change was short-lived.
At the age of twenty, Zabini and Phelps were strolling through the woods bordering Phelps’s home on the night of a full moon. They routinely went for a walk in the woods on full moon to let Phelps transform once inside the forest, where no one could see her.
This time, though, the couple was not alone in the forest. A group of Muggle hunters saw the large wolf advancing toward them through the darkness and, panicked, shot and killed Phelps. The death of his fiancée at the hands of ignorant Muggles left Zabini with a permanent grudge against all non-magic people, he says.
“I screamed at them not to shoot her. When the first bullet hit her, I shouted, 'MIMI! Get back here, if you’re going to shoot her, why don’t you come after me as well?’”no one could have said that they didn’t notice I was upset. But they kept shooting anyway. We almost made it through to the edge of the forest before the last bullet hit her,” Zabini relates.
“What was the most disturbing was that even had she been a real wolf and not a girl in a wolf’s body, it is illegal to shoot wolves. And she wasn’t even attempting to attack them.”
Deeply disturbed and disheartened, Zabini, who had never shown the slightest interest in potions before, became obsessed with finding a cure for lycanthropy. Now, after twenty-one years of hard work, the potion is complete.
“We were ninety-nine percent of the way there for years, but we couldn’t get the last ingredient,” says Zabini. “We tried everything, but in the end, it was something so simple that we’d never even thought to try it until then- a potato.”
On June 28th, the potion will be available at Saint Mungo’s Hospital for all werewolves.
Ted stared at the article, drinking it in over and over again. There was a cure. He would be normal again… well, as normal as he’d ever been.
He’d always seen being a werewolf as something that he could make the best of, something he could adapt to and learn to handle for the rest of his life. Never once had the thought struck him that a cure could be produced. He’d known that there was no cure for werewolf bites and never considered that that could change.
When he’d dreamed about the future, he’d taken it for granted that his future self, however happy and successful, would be gaunt, prematurely aged, and occasionally furry and quadrupedal. It had never upset him because he’d never considered an alternative.
But now… he would never have to worry about potions or Occlumency or wolfish moments or phases of the moon or post-transformation fatigue or prejudice ever again. He would spend his seventh year at Hogwarts an average teenager. It was impossible to imagine his life changing so profoundly in such a short space of time.
Ted’s father looked even more shocked than his son. “I always hoped I’d live to see this day,” he choked, not able to tear his eyes away from the paper. “A cure…”
Ted turned to his parents and gathered them both in a massive hug. When he let go, he was beaming, looking more Tedlike than he had all week.
He looked around him for a moment, then, noticing a chair, stood on it and waved his arms for attention. This was rather unnecessary, as Ted was already the tallest person there, but it certainly got everyone’s attention.
“Everybody! Hey, everybody!” he announced. “I have some news…”
Jordan peered closely at the newspaper, squinting at the picture of Mimosa Phelps and Zabini twenty-something years before. He was glad that Ted and Professor Lupin were going to be cured, and he was rather amused by Zabini’s secret ingredient, but neither of those were what really interested him. Judging by the picture, Mimosa had been a rather pretty girl with long, reddish hair, and Zabini had been the same tall, dark-skinned, and exotic-featured man who now reigned over his Potions class with an iron fist.
Jordan remembered his reoccurring vision about Emma and Tyrone strolling out in the forest on a moonlit night, a cluster of middle-aged men, a loud bang and a horrible scream, and the anguished cry of ““Me! Me! Get back here, if you’re going to shoot her, why don’t you come after me as well?”
”
He’d been overprotecting Emma almost badly as Ron, terrified out of his wits every time she and Tyrone snuck out of school. But his vision hadn’t been about Emma and Tyrone after all. All along, it had been Zabini and Mimosa Phelps. Especially in the dark, like it had been in his vision, they did look quite similar. And it hadn’t been “Me! Me!” It had been “Mimi.” All the pieces fit.
Being a Seer would be so much easier if all visions were stamped with a sign bearing the exact date on which they had occurred or would happen. He’d spent all year worrying about something that had happened to a teacher he hated twenty years before.
“And what are you deep in thought about now?” said a playful voice from behind him.
He turned around to see a large, ruby-red straw hat topped with ostrich plumes. Somewhere under this turban was the broadly smiling face of Giorgi Anderson.
She was dressed in a bright turquoise t-shirt proudly proclaiming “PANTS,’ skin-tight purple zebra-print trousers, enormous parrot earrings, and saddle shoes with rainbow striped socks. To top it off, she had on a black leather jacket and black rhinestone-studded cats-eye spectacles with no glass in them, as her vision was perfect. Locks of purple hair peeked out from under her hat. As per usual, she looked like no one else on earth. Or from earth.
“Didn’t think you could have a party without me, did you?” she said.
Jordan blinked. “Purple,” he said. What? he thought. How can I say such stupid things?
“It is, isn’t it?” Giorgi exclaimed fondly, fluffing her hair. “School colour, you know. Come on, let’s sit down! I haven’t seen you since December!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a sitting position. Jordan felt weird about sitting on the floor where there were people standing around him, not exactly being fond of feeling short, but he didn’t have time to protest.
“Listen, Jordan, thanks for telling me to stick to football. I won the championship game for my school! And I got named MVP!” She bounced with excitement. “How did you know?”
Jordan cleared his throat. “Well, er, actually,” he began.
“It’s weird, though, everyone wants to hang out with me now,” Giorgi continued thoughtfully. She let out a slightly bitter laugh. “I’ve gone mainstream, if you can believe it! Suddenly, I’m cool. The team captain’s asked me out”remember how I told you, the team’s basically all boys? Yeah, his name’s Ric.”
“Congratulations, then,” Jordan stated awkwardly, feeling the need to say something. Giorgi had paused expectantly, waiting for a response. Once she realized that one had been delivered, she burst out,
“But I turned him down. He wouldn’t look twice at me before I won the game except to make fun of me. I don’t know why he thought I’d want to date him now.” She smiled. “I almost forgot how much I love football. Thanks for having my back.”
Jordan smiled. “So, now you’re popular. Do you consider that good or bad? Because if it is a good thing, then you’re welcome. If it’s a bad thing, then it’s not my fault.”
Giorgi laughed. “I don’t know, it’s weird. I like having more friends, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to getting compliments on my clothes. I’ve lost all my shock value! And nobody has anyone to gossip about!”
“If it makes you feel any better, I still worry I’m hallucinating every time I see you,” Jordan said helpfully. “You haven’t lost your shock value where I’m concerned. I’m frankly surprised your parents let you out of the house.”
“Thanks! Interesting how even your compliments are insults!” said Giorgi. “Anyway, I’ve made lots of new friends, but don’t worry, you’re still my best friend.”
My best friend. Those simple words hit Jordan with the impact of the realization that his vision had been about Zabini. He’d forgotten how it felt to have a best friend. Once upon a time, seemingly another life ago, he and Ted had been best friends, before Ted discovered girls and Jordan discovered recreational sulking. Jordan had been such a solitary person for so long”he’d always had friends, of course, but he was always the odd one out”Emma and Haley, Ivy and Ted, Tyrone and everyone in the entire school.
But Giorgi had called him her best friend, and he realized it was true. Jordan had never understood how Haley could spill all of her feelings out to Emma and Ivy, but he’d been sending emails to Giorgi doing almost the exact same thing.
“Well?” said Giorgi. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m your best friend, too?”
“What?” Jordan was puzzled. “Wouldn’t that be rather obvious?”
Giorgi laughed. “The best thing about you is that you’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s weirder than me, and you don’t even seem to realize just how weird you are.”
“I think I know a lot better than you do how weird I am,” replied Jordan. His voice came out deep and serious, and Giorgi seemed to notice this shift in the tone of the conversation.
“Oh, no, what did you do now?” she laughed. “Last time I heard you sound like that, you told me you were a wizard. What other secrets are you keeping? Got an extra head? Maybe you’re not a guy after all?”
Jordan gave her a tight, grim smile. “Worse,” he said. “It turns out I’m a Seer.”
Giorgi raised one eyebrow after first checking Haley wasn’t too nearby. “As in… crystal balls and tea leaves and palm reading?”
“No,” Jordan said firmly. “Definitely not. As in premonitions, visions, psychic dreams, memories of the past, untapped wisdom, and uncanny intuition. As in Merlin.”
Giorgi laughed, then stopped when she realized that Jordan wasn’t. “Wait, let me get it straight. You’re a Seer? Like Trelawney?”
“Nothing like Trelawney,” said Jordan. “That’s comparable to me saying, you’re a girl, like Pansy Malfoy. I’d have told you earlier that I was a Seer, but… I was still coming to terms with it myself, to tell you the truth. I never believed in that sort of thing. Haley does, and that’s the most convincing evidence I’ve ever heard not to believe in something.”
Giorgi peered at him.
“The number you’re thinking of is forty-two,” Jordan said wearily.
Giorgi made an odd sputtering sound. “That’s not weird or anything,” she said uneasily.
Jordan let out a sigh. Here he was again, alienating people. And how good he was at it, too. “I’m sorry,” he began, “I know this is rather frightening. Emma wouldn’t talk to me for ages when she found out. But I really am a Seer, and I’m not””
“I get the picture!” laughed Giorgi. “I believe you. You’d never make something like that up. You haven’t got the imagination.”
“Interesting how even your compliments are insults,” said Jordan, but he was smiling slightly.
“And I don’t see what’s scary about being a Seer. I mean, yeah, of course it’d be scary for you, but why would it bother me? So long as you don’t go around telling me everything bad that’s ever going to happen to me.”
Jordan squinted at her. “Most people are rather intimidated…” he began.
“I trust you!” exclaimed Giorgi. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Maybe it’s because I’m not magic, but just a few more magical powers don’t make that much of a difference to me. This isn’t a patch on Ted being a werewolf. That freaked me out, but this? Not so much.” She paused. “Besides, I know I could take you down in a fight any day if I had to.”
Jordan looked at her. Her aura was painfully purple, the real reason why he’d said ‘purple’ when he’d first seen her, not her hair, and through it, her face was calm and friendly. “You’re really not bothered at all?” he repeated incredulously.
“Er, noooo. What are best friends for, anyway?”
Jordan beamed, something that was happening more and more frequently these days. That unearthly beauty that came with his smiles shone out of his face, a strange incandescent radiance that even Tyrone never had. And he flung his arms around Giorgi in a tight hug.
When the hug was over, Giorgi held him at arms’ length and stated, “I thought you didn’t believe in hugs.”
The smile never left Jordan’s face. “I don’t like being hugged. I have nothing against instigating them when I want to.”
“But you haven’t instigated any hugs ‘till now, have you?” pried Giorgi.
Jordan shrugged. “I don’t remember. Probably not since I was about ten.”
“Well, for someone who doesn’t hug, you’re very huggable,” stated Giorgi. “How would you feel if I started calling you Mr. Cuddles?”
“I’d feel the way most people do right before bludgeoning someone to death,” Jordan replied slowly and thoughtfully. “Strange nicknames are strictly Haley territory.”
“Well, that’s a relief, the old Jordan’s still there,” said Giorgi. “What with this Seer business and the smiling and the hugging, I was starting to worry. If you said I could call you Mr. Cuddles, I’d think you were possessed.” She straightened her hat. “You know,” she said, “last year, when you told me you were a wizard, you said you’d take me flying sometime on your broom, but we never did get to do that. Can’t we go now?”
Jordan looked around the room, at the buoyantly happy people all around him. They’d all gotten what they wanted. Haley and Anatoly had accomplished Inter-House Unity, gotten a chance to let their true potential shine behind the theatrical goofiness. Emma had come to terms with her buried insecurities and cleared her father’s name. Tyrone had finally persuaded Emma to go out with him. Cecilia was over the embarrassment that her parents had always caused her. Ted would be cured in a matter of weeks. Ivy had realized that she had the strength to protect and console other people as Ted had always done for her.
What about Jordan? All along, his goal had been to discover Telemency, and now he had. But somehow, he felt even more triumphant about being totally accepted by a true friend, who didn’t care about all of the things that made him different. It was sentimental and it was trite, and he’d never admit it in a million years. But it was still true.
“I think flying would be perfect,” he responded, getting up and leading Giorgi toward the door. “And we’ll have plenty of time to catch up. I don’t think I can begin to tell you everything that’s happened lately.”
“Try,” said Giorgi, bobbing along behind him as he made his way toward the broom shed in the backyard.
Jordan sighed. “Well, as you know, my Uncle Ron was incarcerated in Azkaban, and I wanted proof that he was innocent. So, several of my friends from school and I went back in time to the last battle against Voldemort to see what happened between him and Snape, and…”
“Wait a minute.” Giorgi stopped him just as he was removing his broom from the shed. “You went back in time… you know, you always could’ve just borrowed my copy of the seventh Harry Potter book.”
Jordan stared at his friend, his eyes going wide. “I… am… incredibly… stupid…” he said slowly.
Giorgi giggled. “That’s something I thought I’d never hear you say in a million years. Why didn’t I get that on tape?”
Sometimes, thought Jordan as he got Giorgi situated on her broom, magic was overrated. Sometimes, a little intelligence and common sense was all that you needed to get by in life, and no matter how much magic you had, it was no substitute.
His grand plans almost never worked, he’d noticed, no matter how well-constructed. He’d worked out all kinds of complicated magical schemes, but things never went according to plan. Magic was really unpredictable, and it always seemed to be needlessly complicated compared to the simple, nonmagical alternatives that usually worked better anyway. That was why Jordan loved computers… science was science was science, and everything was quantitative, clear-cut, and measurable. He understood science. But the more he knew about magic, the less he understood. The older he got and the more he learned, the more he realized that he really didn’t know very much at all.
But sometimes, Jordan thought as the broomstick jetted across the darkened sky and Giorgi screamed and seized him by the waist, magic had its perks.