June 29th, 1992, New York City, outside the MACUSA Headquarters, 9:17 AM.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the imposing Beaux-Arts facade of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Gargoyles, subtly animated, blinked down at the throngs of Muggles hurrying past, oblivious to the magical activity simmering just beneath the surface. A chill wind whipped off the Hudson River, carrying with it the scent of salt and exhaust fumes, a distinctly New York aroma that tickled Harry's nose.
Ethan, having secured a comfortable suite in a magically-warded hotel a few blocks away, had insisted on a brief orientation tour, culminating in a discreet observation of MACUSA headquarters. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his dark amber eyes scanning the building's intricate stonework. The silvery square-frame glasses perched on his nose glinted in the sunlight.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the city's din. "The Americans have a… different approach to concealing their world. More overt, more reliant on glamour and misdirection. Less subtle than our own Ministry, perhaps."
Harry, bundled in a Muggle-style jacket Howard had insisted on procuring for him, shivered despite the layers. He found the sheer scale of everything in New York overwhelming. The buildings were taller, the streets wider, the people… more numerous.
'It's like being swallowed by a giant,' Harry thought, nervously adjusting his glasses.
"Dad," he began hesitantly, "what exactly are we looking for?"
Ethan's gaze softened as he turned to Harry. "Just getting a feel for the atmosphere, Harry. Understanding the nuances of their magical governance. It's important to be informed, especially when travelling." He didn't elaborate, and Harry sensed there was more to it than that.
Ethan rarely did anything without a purpose.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the building's grand entrance. A group of figures, cloaked and hooded, were chanting slogans with banners, hastily painted with symbols that vaguely recalled from ancient runes lessons, bobbed in the air.
"Down with Rappaport's Law!" Luna repeated the words on the banners, her voice surprisingly clear amidst the noise. She'd been unusually quiet since their arrival, seemingly absorbing the city's energy. Her mystic eyes, usually distant and dreamy, were now focused with an unnerving intensity. "They're protesting the restrictions on magical disclosure to No-Maj families."
"How did you..." Before Harry could ask, she quickly added that it was one of her father's bedtime stories.
"It's terribly unfair, don't you think?" There was a tinge of sadness in her remark.
Ethan's expression was somewhat perplexed. "Indeed. A rather… passionate demonstration." He observed the protesters with a critical eye.
Under the True Sight, the protesters' identity was as clear as day to Ethan.
Most appeared to be students, their faces obscured by scarves and hats. However, there was a raw desperation in their voices, a simmering anger that resonated even through the magical barriers.
"Look!" Harry exclaimed, pointing towards the entrance. A contingent of Aurors, clad in dark blue robes and sporting stern expressions, were marching towards the protesters. They moved with a practised efficiency, their wands drawn and ready.
"MACUSA's Aurors," Ethan confirmed. "They're not known for their patience with dissent." A trace of unpleasant memory flashed through his mind.
As the Aurors approached, the protesters braced themselves. A tense silence descended, broken only by the rhythmic chanting of the demonstrators and the crunch of the Aurors' boots on the pavement. Then, with a coordinated burst of magical energy, the Aurors moved to suppress the protest. Stunners flew, silencing spells were cast, and the air crackled with barely contained power.
On the other side, Ethan casually cast a simple Protego with a wave of his hand, a transparent curtain draping over the four of them.
Luna was the first to notice this spell, her grey orbs shining with brilliance towards Ethan whilst Harry was a beat later.
Still, it had never ceased to amaze Harry how many times he had witnessed Ethan's magic.
Then something unexpected happened. The protesters, despite being outnumbered and outmatched, didn't fall so easily. They deflected the spells with surprising skill, creating shimmering shields and weaving intricate counter-charms. It was as if they anticipated every move the Aurors made.
"Remarkable defensive magic," Ethan breathed, his eyes widening in astonishment. "They're well-trained, and… coordinated. Almost too coordinated."
The Aurors, frustrated by their inability to subdue the protesters, intensified their attack. But the demonstrators held firm, their resistance unwavering. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the confrontation ended. The protesters, as one, vanished into the crowd, melting away like shadows in the sunlight. The Aurors, left standing amidst the empty pavement, looked bewildered and defeated.
"They… they left?" Harry stammered, his voice filled with curiosity.
Ethan nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the spot where the protesters had stood. "They did disappear quite timely, didn't they?"
He turned to Howard, who had been observing the scene with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Howard," he said, his voice laced with urgency, "do you know anything about this protest? About the individuals involved?"
Howard frowned. "I'd heard whispers, of course. A group of radical students pushing for reform of Rappaport's Law. But I didn't pay much attention. They're mostly harmless, just idealistic youngsters."
Unlike his nonchalant remarks, Howard's gaze was trailing the place where the protesters had been as well as the expressions of the present Aurors.
"Harmless?" Ethan repeated, his eyes narrowing. "I think not. This was a carefully orchestrated operation, Howard. And I have a feeling it's just the beginning of something much larger."
He glanced at Howard and the place where the protesters had left, a flicker of amusement flashing in his eyes. 'Interesting. Does he know something or perhaps...'
"Come on," Howard said, turning towards the hotel. "We have work to do."
June 29th, 1992, Mount Greylock, Massachusetts, 4:33 PM.
The journey to Ilvermorny had been arranged with surprising efficiency. Howard, it seemed, had connections within MACUSA that extended beyond mere casual acquaintance. A portkey—a weathered baseball, appropriately enough—had been procured within the hour, and after a disorienting lurch through space, they found themselves standing at the base of Mount Greylock.
The mountain rose before them like a sleeping giant, its peak wreathed in wisps of cloud that caught the fading sunlight and transformed it into ribbons of rose and gold. The air here was different from the city—cleaner, crisper, tinged with the scent of pine and rich earth. A cobblestone path, almost invisible beneath a carpet of moss and fallen leaves, wound its way up the mountainside, disappearing into the dense forest that cloaked the lower slopes.
"Merlin...," Harry whispered, his green eyes wide with wonder. He'd thought Hogwarts impressive, but this... this was something else entirely. The sheer scale of the wilderness, the untamed quality of the magic that seemed to pulse from the very stones beneath his feet, left him breathless.
Luna had already drifted ahead, her white shirt and blue pleated skirt a stark contrast against the darkening greens of the forest. She moved with an otherworldly grace, her fingertips trailing along the bark of ancient trees, her head tilted as if listening to some melody only she could hear.
"The Hidebehinds are particularly active at this time of evening," she announced cheerfully, peering into the shadowy undergrowth. "And I do believe there are Snallygasters nesting somewhere higher up. Can you hear them?"
Harry strained his ears but heard only the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a bird. Still, he'd long since learnt not to dismiss Luna's observations. She had a way of perceiving things that others missed.
"Stay close," Ethan instructed, his voice carrying an edge of authority that brooked no argument. His hand rested lightly on the pocket where his wand resided, and his dark amber eyes swept the treeline with the practised vigilance of someone who'd spent years as an Unspeakable. "American magical creatures can be rather more... aggressive than their British counterparts."
Howard chuckled, adjusting the brim of his hat. "Don't let Ethan frighten you too much. The wards around Ilvermorny are some of the strongest in North America. We're perfectly safe on the path."
They began their ascent. The cobblestones, worn smooth by centuries of feet, gleamed faintly in the dying light. Harry noticed that they seemed to glow with a subtle luminescence, as if charged with some inner magic. Every so often, he caught glimpses of movement in his peripheral vision—quick, darting shadows that vanished the moment he turned to look directly at them.
'Hidebehinds,' he thought with a mixture of nervousness and fascination. 'Luna was right.'
The path curved sharply, following the natural contours of the mountain. As they climbed higher, the forest began to thin, revealing breathtaking vistas of the surrounding landscape. Rolling hills stretched into the distance, painted in deepening shades of purple and indigo by the encroaching twilight. Here and there, Harry could make out the glimmer of lakes and rivers, like fragments of broken mirror scattered across the earth.
"There," Howard said suddenly, gesture ahead with a wide grin. "Welcome to Ilvermorny!"
Harry's breath caught in his throat, his hand subconscious hold on tight to the strap his dearest enchanted satchel.
The school emerged from the forest like something from a dream. Unlike Hogwarts' Gothic majesty with its turrets and towers, Ilvermorny possessed a different kind of grandeur. The main building was constructed of pale granite that seemed to glow with an inner light, its architecture a harmonious blend of colonial American and something far more ancient—something that spoke of the indigenous peoples who had called these lands home long before European wizards arrived.
Four towers rose at the cardinal points, each distinct in design. The tallest bore a weather vane shaped like a serpent, its brass surface burnished to a warm gold by the setting sun. Another was crowned with a carved wooden eagle, wings spread wide as if preparing for flight. A third displayed the silhouette of a great cat, whilst the fourth bore the likeness of a creature Harry didn't immediately recognise—something with horns and a powerful build.
"Wampus, Thunderbird, Horned Serpent, and Pukwudgie," Luna recited softly, her grey eyes distant. "The four houses of Ilvermorny. Father told me about them. They're named after magical creatures native to North America, you see. Each with their own particular qualities."
"Quite right, Miss Lovegood," Howard confirmed with an approving nod. "Wampus represents warriors, Thunderbird the adventurers, Horned Serpent the scholars, and Pukwudgie those who favour the heart."
'Rather different from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff,' Harry mused. 'Though I suppose the principles are similar enough.'
As they drew closer, more details revealed themselves. The grounds were immaculately maintained, with flowering gardens that seemed impossibly vibrant for this time of year. Harry spotted plants he'd only read about in his Herbology texts—Wiggentree saplings, Dittany bushes, even what appeared to be a small grove of Snargaluff stumps, carefully warded and contained.
The main entrance was flanked by towering statues carved from the same pale granite as the building itself. They depicted figures in flowing robes, their faces serene yet watchful. One held a wand aloft, the other cradled a book to her chest.
"Isolt Sayre and James Steward," Ethan explained, his voice soft with something approaching reverence. "The founders of Ilvermorny. A remarkable woman, by all accounts. She fled from her murderous aunt in Ireland, crossed the Atlantic, and built this school with her own hands—metaphorically speaking, of course—to provide magical education to the children of North America."
Harry stared up at the statue of Isolt Sayre. There was something in her carved features—a determination, perhaps, or an unshakeable resolve—that reminded him oddly of Ethan. People who had decided on a course of action and would see it through, no matter the cost.
"She sounds rather brilliant," Luna observed, tilting her head at an angle that would have been uncomfortable for anyone else. "Starting a school must be terribly difficult. All those decisions about curriculum and house points and whether to allow Nargles in the library."
Howard laughed. "I can assure you that Ilvermorny's library is quite strict about its infestation policies, Miss Lovegood."
They passed through the entrance into a great hall that took Harry's breath away for the second time in as many minutes. Where Hogwarts' Great Hall evoked medieval grandeur with its floating candles and enchanted ceiling, Ilvermorny's equivalent spoke of a different aesthetic entirely.
The ceiling here was indeed enchanted to show the sky above, but it was rendered with a clarity and vibrancy that seemed almost hyper-real. Stars were beginning to emerge in the deepening blue, and Harry could have sworn he saw shooting stars streak across the magical firmament. The walls were lined with intricate wood carvings depicting scenes from American magical history—wizards and witches standing alongside indigenous magic users, all working together to defend their communities from various threats.
Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, each bearing the symbol of its respective house. Unlike Hogwarts' simple house crests, these were elaborate affairs—the Thunderbird table featured an actual carved thunderbird that occasionally spread its wings and ruffled its feathers; the Horned Serpent table bore a serpentine design that seemed to shift and coil when viewed from different angles.
"It's beautiful," Harry breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt Luna's hand slip into his, squeezing gently.
"It feels different," she agreed, her mystic eyes reflecting the starlight from above. "Not better or worse than Hogwarts, just... different. Like listening to the same story told in a different language."
Ethan stood slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back in that characteristic pose. His dark amber eyes moved methodically across the hall, taking in every detail with the trained precision of someone who made it their business to notice things others might miss.
Harry could practically see the calculations running behind those eyes, the assessments being made and filed away for future reference.
"The school is mostly empty at this time of year," Howard explained, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "Summer holiday, you understand. But I've arranged for a colleague of mine—Professor Blackwood, who teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts here—to give us a more comprehensive tour tomorrow morning. Tonight, I thought you might simply enjoy the atmosphere."
"It's rather peaceful," Luna observed, drifting towards the Thunderbird table. She traced her fingers along the carved bird's wing, and Harry could have sworn the wooden creature leant into her touch like a cat seeking affection. "Less crowded than Hogwarts. All those students can be terribly noisy sometimes, even if I do quite like them."
Harry followed her, his footsteps echoing on the polished wooden floor. The craftsmanship here was extraordinary—every surface bore evidence of skilled magical work, from the perfectly fitted stones of the walls to the intricate inlay work on the tables themselves.
"Do you suppose their classes are very different from ours?" Harry asked, running his hand along the smooth wood of the Horned Serpent table.
"Mr. Sterling, you studied here, didn't you? What was it like?" Luna turned to Howard with her glimmering grey orbs.
Howard's expression grew nostalgic, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It was... formative. Ilvermorny has a rather different approach to magical education than Hogwarts. More emphasis on practical application, less on tradition for tradition's sake. Though I must say, having experienced both systems through my friendship with Ethan, I've come to appreciate that each has its merits."
"The American system tends to produce wizards and witches who are more adaptable," Ethan added, finally breaking his contemplative silence. "Less bound by the old ways, more willing to experiment and innovate. It's one of the reasons American magical society has advanced so rapidly in certain fields, despite their rather draconian secrecy laws."
He moved to stand beside Harry, his gaze fixed on the enchanted ceiling above. "Though I would argue that Hogwarts provides a deeper grounding in magical theory and history. It's a matter of philosophy, really. Breadth versus depth."
Harry nodded, trying to process this. He'd never really considered that there might be fundamentally different approaches to teaching magic. At Hogwarts, things were done in certain ways because that was how they'd always been done. Tradition was sacrosanct. But here...
"Could I study here?" The question escaped before Harry could think better of it. He felt his cheeks warm. "N-not that I don't love Hogwarts! I just mean... it might be interesting to see how they do things differently."
Ethan's hand came to rest on his shoulder, a grounding presence. "Perhaps an exchange programme might be arranged in your later years. It never hurts to broaden one's horizons." There was something approving in his tone, a quiet pride that made Harry's chest feel warm.
Luna had wandered over to one of the wall carvings, studying it with her characteristic intensity. "This one shows a battle," she announced. "Wizards and No-Maj fighting together against... oh, those are Scourers, aren't they? Daddy told me about them. Terribly unpleasant people who hunted their own kind for profit."
"Indeed," Howard confirmed, moving to join her. "One of the darker chapters in American magical history. The Scourers were mercenaries who betrayed magical folk to Muggle—excuse me, No-Maj—authorities during the witch trials. Rappaport's Law was enacted partly in response to their activities."
"Which brings us full circle to this afternoon's protest," Ethan murmured, so quietly that Harry almost missed it. The Unspeakable's eyes had narrowed fractionally, that telltale sign that his mind was working through some complex problem. "A law born from betrayal and fear, now causing division in its turn."
The hall fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the soft whisper of the enchanted ceiling's artificial wind. Harry found himself thinking about the protesters they'd witnessed outside MACUSA, their desperate courage in the face of overwhelming force. What must it be like, he wondered, to be a wizard with No-Maj family members, forever separated by laws and secrecy?
'At least in Britain, Muggle-borns can tell their immediate families,' he thought. 'Here, they're forced to cut all ties. That must be terribly lonely.'
"Come," Howard said eventually, breaking the spell of silence. "Let me show you the library before it gets too dark. Ilvermorny's collection is quite remarkable, particularly their section on North American magical creatures and indigenous magic."
They exited through a side door that led into a corridor lined with portraits. Unlike Hogwarts' often garrulous painted inhabitants, these portraits seemed more reserved, observing the visitors with quiet dignity. One depicted a Native American witch in traditional regalia, her wand carved from what appeared to be bone. Another showed a stern-looking wizard in colonial-era clothing, a leather-bound book clutched to his chest.
The library, when they reached it, proved to be every bit as impressive as Howard had promised. It occupied an entire wing of the school, a vast space with soaring ceilings supported by wooden beams carved with protective runes. Floor-to-ceiling shelves groaned under the weight of thousands upon thousands of books, and the air carried that distinctive scent that Harry associated with learning—old paper, ink, and the faint mustiness of age.
"Merlin's beard," Harry breathed, his voice unconsciously dropping to a reverent whisper.
Luna made a beeline for a section labelled 'Cryptozoology and Undiscovered Creatures,' her eyes lighting up with unmistakable delight. "Oh, Harry, look! They have an entire shelf devoted to Crumple-Horned Snorkacks! And here's a treatise on Umgubular Slashkilters that Daddy would simply love!"
Ethan had already gravitated towards what appeared to be the restricted section, though his approach was more circumspect than Harry remembered from their occasional visits to Hogwarts' equivalent. His fingers traced along the spines of books, reading titles with that intense focus that suggested he was cataloguing information for later retrieval.
Howard watched them all with evident satisfaction. "I thought you might appreciate it. The library stays open during the summer for any students who remain on campus, though tonight we have it to ourselves. Please, explore as you wish."
"Right then, Howard and I will be just around the corner if you ever need us." Ethan exchanged glances with Harry Luna before departing with Howard, leaving the two of them to their literary explorations.