June 29th, 1992, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 6:22 PM.
The corridor stretched before them like a gallery of living history. Unlike Hogwarts' moving portraits that chatted and gossiped freely, Ilvermorny's painted inhabitants maintained a dignified silence, their eyes following the trio's passage with quiet curiosity. The walls themselves were constructed from smooth granite that seemed to glow with an inner luminescence, and intricate carvings of native magical creatures wound their way along the wainscoting.
Robert led them with the easy confidence of someone intimately familiar with the castle's layout. His hands gestured animatedly as he spoke, pointing out architectural details and magical innovations that most visitors would overlook.
"The entire eastern wing was rebuilt in 1847 after a rather unfortunate incident involving a Wampus cat and an overzealous Charms professor," he explained, guiding them around a corner. "They incorporated new ward schemes that Professor Blackwood—she's our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—says are some of the most sophisticated in North America."
Luna hummed thoughtfully, her fingers trailing along the stone wall. "I can feel them. The wards, I mean. They're rather like... musical notes, layered on top of each other. It's quite beautiful, actually."
Harry squeezed her hand gently, no longer surprised by her ability to perceive things others couldn't. His own magical senses weren't nearly as refined, though Ethan's training had taught him to recognise certain patterns in spell-work.
They climbed a spiral staircase that wound upward through one of the smaller towers. The steps were worn smooth by generations of feet, and enchanted lanterns flickered to life as they passed, casting dancing shadows on the curved walls.
"The observatory is just up here," Robert said over his shoulder. "On clear nights like this, you can see for miles. The magical atmosphere around Mount Greylock creates some fascinating celestial phenomena.
I've witnessed shooting stars that actually sing, and once I saw what I'm fairly certain was a Mooncalf migration, though Professor Blackwood insists they don't travel in groups that large."
The staircase opened onto a circular chamber with a domed ceiling constructed entirely of enchanted glass. The twilight sky stretched overhead in breathtaking clarity as stars beginning to emerge like diamonds scattered across dark velvet. The horizon still held traces of rose and gold, the last remnants of sunset clinging stubbornly to the western sky.
"Blimey," Harry breathed, tilting his head back to take it all in.
The view was spectacular.
Luna had already drifted to the edge of the chamber, pressing her hands against the glass as she stared out at the darkening landscape. "Look, Harry," she called softly. "You can see the lights of No-Maj towns in the distance... Like little fireflies."
Harry joined her, and Robert moved to stand on her other side. From this height, the world spread out below them in a patchwork of shadows and lights. The forest that cloaked the lower slopes of Mount Greylock appeared as a dark sea, whilst scattered settlements dotted the valleys beyond.
"It's peaceful up here," Robert said quietly. "I come sometimes when I need to think. The solitude helps clear my head."
Harry understood that sentiment perfectly. He'd spent countless hours in Ethan's study or the gardens at Baker Street seeking similar solace.
They stood in comfortable silence for several minutes, watching as the stars grew brighter and the landscape below faded into darkness.
Luna began humming softly—one of those tuneless melodies she favoured—and the sound seemed to blend naturally with the quiet whisper of wind against the glass dome.
Eventually, Robert stirred. "Come on," he said. "There's more to see, and we should probably move along before the Night Guard makes their rounds. They're not unkind, but they do ask rather a lot of questions."
They descended a different staircase that led into the main body of the castle. The corridors here were wider, more ornate, with polished wooden floors that gleamed in the wand-light. Trophy cases lined the walls, displaying awards and accolades from decades of academic and athletic achievements.
Robert was pointing out a particularly impressive Quidditch trophy—Ilvermorny apparently played a variation with an additional Chaser position—when voices drifted down the corridor ahead of them. Sharp voices, raised in what sounded like argument.
Robert's expression shifted, his easy smile fading into something more wary. "Perhaps we should go the other way," he suggested quietly.
But it was too late.
A group of students rounded the corner, five of them, all appearing to be older teenagers. They wore expensive-looking robes in the deep blue and cranberry colours of Ilvermorny, and carried themselves with the particular arrogance that came from wealth and privilege.
Harry recognised the type immediately—they reminded him unpleasantly of Theodore Nott and his cronies.
The group's conversation died as they spotted Robert, Harry, and Luna. The leader—a tall boy with slicked-back blonde hair and a face that seemed permanently arranged in a sneer—stopped short, his eyes narrowing.
"Well, well," he drawled, his accent carrying the clipped tones of old New England money. "Robert Thornwood. I'm surprised to see you here during the holiday. Shouldn't you be off somewhere planning your next little... demonstration?"
Robert's jaw tightened, but his voice remained level. "Evening, Montgomery. Just showing some visitors around the castle."
Montgomery's gaze slid over Harry and Luna with undisguised disdain. His eyes lingered on Harry's scar, recognition flashing across his features. "British, are they? How... quaint. Tell me, Thornwood, are you recruiting internationally now? Trying to corrupt foreign students with your radical nonsense?"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Robert replied, though a muscle jumped in his jaw.
One of Montgomery's companions—a stocky girl with sharp features—laughed unpleasantly. "Oh, please. Everyone knows you were involved in that pathetic protest outside MACUSA this afternoon. My mother works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She said the whole thing was a disgrace. A bunch of blood traitors and No-Maj lovers causing trouble."
Luna's hand tightened in Harry's, and he felt a flash of anger at the casual venom in the girl's voice. The term 'blood traitor' carried the same ugly weight here as it did in Britain, apparently.
"The protest was about basic rights," Robert said, his voice hardening. "About families being torn apart by unjust laws. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that, Millicent. Your family's been pure-blood for so long, you've forgotten what it means to have connections to the No-Maj world."
Montgomery stepped forward, his hand drifting toward his wand pocket. "Careful, Thornwood. That kind of talk could be considered seditious. Should the MACUSA board hear of this—"
"What, exactly?" Robert interrupted, his own hand moving to his wand. "You'll have me expelled for expressing an opinion? For believing that Rappaport's Law is archaic and cruel? That forcing wizards and witches to completely sever ties with their No-Maj families is barbaric?"
"It's necessary!" Montgomery snapped, his composure cracking. "The Scourers proved what happens when No-Majs learn about us. They hunted us down, sold us out for profit. Rappaport's Law protects us!"
"Rappaport's Law was enacted in 1790," Robert shot back, his voice rising despite his obvious attempts to remain calm. "It's been over two hundred years, Montgomery! The world has changed. No-Majs have changed. But we're still living under rules born from fear and paranoia."
"Those rules keep us safe," Millicent interjected shrilly. "They maintain the Statute of Secrecy. Without them, we'd have No-Majs hunting us again, just like the old days."
Robert laughed, but there was no humour in it. "Is that what you truly believe? That every No-Maj is a potential Scourer? That we can't trust anyone who doesn't have magic?" He shook his head. "You're afraid. All of you. Afraid of change, afraid of losing your precious status, afraid that if we actually integrated with No-Maj society, you might have to acknowledge that magical blood doesn't make you superior."
Montgomery's face flushed an ugly red. "How dare you—"
"He dares because he's right," Luna said suddenly, her dreamy voice cutting through the rising tension like a bell. Everyone turned to look at her, and she met their stares with her characteristic unflappable calm. "Fear makes people cruel. It makes them hold onto power they shouldn't have, and hurt people who don't deserve it."
"Stay out of this, you weird little—" Millicent began, but Harry stepped forward, his own anger finally overriding his shyness.
Though, no word spoken, Harry's standing and those green eyes under the hood enticed a quiet danger, like a lion watching its preys.
Montgomery's eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. "Oh, how touching. The famous Harry Potter, defending his little girlfriend. Tell me, Potter, does the British Ministry know you're consorting with protesters and radicals? I'm sure they'd be very interested to—"
"That's quite enough."
That was a voice carried absolute authority.
Everyone froze as Ethan stepped out of a side corridor, Howard just behind him. The Unspeakable's dark amber eyes were cold, his expression absolutely neutral in a way that was somehow more frightening than any display of anger could have been.
"Umm Sir, Professor Howard, we were just—" Montgomery began, but Ethan raised a hand, silencing him.
"I am quite aware of what was occurring," Ethan said softly. "I may not be familiar with Ilvermorny's specific disciplinary policies, but I imagine the headmistress would be interested to hear about students accosting visitors and engaging in what appeared to be threatening behaviour."
Howard stepped forward, his usually jovial expression replaced with something stern and disappointed. "Montgomery Blackwell, Millicent Ashford. I know your families. I've dined with your parents. And I'm fairly certain they wouldn't approve of this behaviour, regardless of your political opinions."
Montgomery's bravado crumbled. "We weren't... we didn't mean..."
"You meant precisely what you said," Ethan interrupted, his voice still that dangerous quiet. "You expressed your opinions with clarity and conviction. I suggest you now take those opinions elsewhere, before this situation escalates beyond mere words."
The five students exchanged glances, clearly weighing their options. Finally, Montgomery gave a stiff nod toward Ethan. "Of course, Mister. Our apologies for the... misunderstanding." The word dripped with insincerity, but he was already backing away, his companions following suit.
They disappeared around the corner, their footsteps echoing down the corridor. The silence they left behind felt heavy, oppressive.
Robert exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging. "Thank you," he said quietly. "That could have gotten rather ugly."
"Indeed," Ethan agreed, his expression softening fractionally as he turned his attention to Harry and Luna. "Are you both alright?"
"We're f-fine, Dad," Harry said, though his heart was still racing. "They were just... talking."
"Talking rather nastily," Luna observed, tilting her head. "They had Wrackspurts buzzing all around their heads. The angry, bitter kind."
Howard sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. Montgomery and his lot... they come from old families, the kind that have held power in MACUSA for generations. They see any challenge to the status quo as a personal threat."
"They mentioned the protest," Ethan said, his gaze sharpening as he looked at Robert. "The one we witnessed this afternoon outside MACUSA headquarters."
Robert met his eyes steadily, some of his earlier defensiveness returning. "Yes, sir. I was there."
"Were you indeed," Ethan murmured. It wasn't quite a question. "And the others? The protesters who demonstrated such remarkable coordination and defensive skill?"
A faint flush crept up Robert's neck, but he didn't look away. "People who have No-Maj family members and who've had to cut all ties because of Rappaport's Law."
"Tell us about it," Luna said gently. "About the protest, and why you're involved."
Robert glanced between them, clearly weighing how much to share.
Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. "Can we sit somewhere? This might take a while."
Howard gestured down the corridor. "There's a student lounge nearby. It should be empty this time of year."
They followed him to a comfortable room furnished with squashy armchairs and low tables. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a large window overlooked the darkened grounds.
Robert settled into one of the chairs whilst Harry and Luna shared another, unconsciously mirroring their earlier position in the library. Ethan remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back in s characteristic pose.
Robert was staring at his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and intense.
"My older sister, Elizabeth, is a Squib," he began. "She was born with no magical ability whatsoever. According to Rappaport's Law, that technically makes her a No-Maj, even though she was raised in the magical world, even though she knows everything about our society."
He looked up, meeting their eyes. "When she turned eighteen last year, she had to leave. Completely. She couldn't stay with our family, couldn't maintain contact with us in any meaningful way. The law is very clear—No-Majs cannot have knowledge of the magical world unless they're immediate family of a currently enrolled student, and even then, the restrictions are severe."
Harry felt his chest tighten. He couldn't imagine being forcibly separated from someone he loved simply because they lacked magic.
"Where did she go?" Luna asked softly.
"No-Maj society," Robert said bitterly. "She's living in Boston now, working in a bookshop, pretending her childhood never happened. We can't write to her—owl post to No-Majs is prohibited. We can't visit—the risk of exposure is too great. She's just... gone. As if she never existed."
"That's horrible," Harry whispered.
"It's more common than you'd think," Robert continued. "Squibs, Muggle-born wizards who want to maintain relationships with their non-magical families, even pure-bloods who fall in love with No-Majs. Rappaport's Law tears them all apart. And MACUSA justifies it by invoking the Scourers, by claiming it's necessary for our protection."
He leant forward, his expression fierce. "But it's not about protection anymore. It's about control. It's about maintaining a rigid separation that benefits those in power whilst causing immense suffering to ordinary people."
"So you protest," Ethan said quietly. "You and others like you. Publicly, where it cannot be ignored."
Robert nodded. "We've tried other methods. Petitions, formal requests for legislative review. They're all ignored or dismissed. So we decided to make ourselves visible, to force MACUSA to acknowledge that there are people who oppose this law. Today's demonstration was the largest yet—over fifty participants."
"The defensive magic your group displayed was quite sophisticated," Ethan observed. "Almost militarily coordinated."
A ghost of a smile crossed Robert's face. "We've been practicing. People who sympathise with our cause, who've provided training."
"That sounds potentially dangerous," Howard said, frowning. "If MACUSA suspects organised resistance—"
"They already suspect," Robert interrupted. "They've been cracking down. Two students were expelled last month for 'seditious activities.' Several others have received warnings. But we can't stop now. Every time we back down, the law becomes more entrenched."
The room fell silent. Harry found himself thinking about all the times Ethan had spoken about injustice, about systems of power that served themselves rather than the people they claimed to protect. This was exactly the kind of situation his father would find intolerable.
"What do you hope to achieve?" Ethan asked. "Realistically speaking. Even if you gain public support, changing a law that's been in place for over two centuries will be extraordinarily difficult."
Robert's expression hardened with determination. "We start small. First, we push for exemptions—allowing Squibs to maintain family contact, permitting limited interaction between magical and No-Maj family members. Then we work toward broader reforms. It won't happen overnight, but it has to start somewhere."
"And if MACUSA responds with force?" Ethan pressed. "If they decide your movement is a threat to be eliminated rather than a concern to be addressed?"
"Then we deal with that when it comes," Robert said simply. "Some things are worth fighting for, sir. My sister is worth fighting for. All the families torn apart by this law are worth fighting for."
Luna reached out and gently touched Robert's hand. "You're very brave," she said softly. "And quite right, I think. Laws should protect people, not hurt them."
Robert's eyes glistened slightly, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. "Thank you," he managed. "That... means more than you know."
They sat together for a while longer, the conversation drifting to safer topics. Robert explained more about the protest movement's structure, careful not to reveal too many specifics but clearly grateful for sympathetic listeners. Harry found himself wishing there was something he could do to help, though he had no idea what that might be.
Eventually, Robert glanced at the clock on the wall and stood reluctantly. "I should go. I've kept you long enough, and I have... things to attend to." Robert smiled slightly.
"Let's just say that today's protest won't be our last." He shook hands with Ethan and Howard, then turned to Harry and Luna. "It was truly wonderful meeting you both. If you're ever back in America, please look me up."
"We will," Luna promised. "And Robert? Good luck. With everything."
"Thanks," Robert nodded.
He left quietly, and the room felt suddenly emptier without his passionate energy.
Howard broke the silence first. "Well. That was rather more eventful than I'd anticipated when I suggested a castle tour."
"Quite," Ethan agreed, moving to the window and staring out at the darkened grounds. "Though informative. Very informative indeed."
Harry watched his father's reflection in the glass, trying to decipher his expression. "Dad? What do you think about... all of this? The protest, Rappaport's Law?"
Ethan was quiet for a long moment. "I think," he said finally, "that laws enacted from fear rarely serve justice. And I think that young Robert Thornwood is correct—some things are worth fighting for, regardless of the cost."
He turned to face them, his expression softening. "But that's a discussion for another time. It's getting late, and we should return to the hotel. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Luna asked curiously.
Howard smiled. "I've secured invitations to a small conference on Muggle Studies—or No-Maj Studies, as we call it here. It's being held at a magical venue in Manhattan. I thought it might interest you all, given our earlier discussions about Muggle achievements."
"I should quite like that," Luna said enthusiastically. "Learning about No-Majs sounds fascinating."
Harry nodded in agreement, though part of his mind was still turning over everything Robert had told them. The protest, the separation of families, the injustice of it all. It reminded him uncomfortably of the blood purity rhetoric he'd encountered in Britain, though American magical society's prejudice seemed to manifest differently.
They made their way back through the castle, retracing their earlier route. The portraits watched them pass in silence, and the enchanted lights dimmed in their wake. Outside, the night had turned crisp and clear, the stars brilliant overhead.
As they walked down the glowing path toward the portkey site, Luna slipped her hand into Harry's again. He squeezed gently, drawing comfort from the familiar warmth.
"It's rather sad, isn't it?" she murmured. "All those families, torn apart. Like Robert and his sister."
"Yeah," Harry agreed quietly. "It is."
Ethan, walking just ahead, spoke without turning around. "Remember this feeling," he said. "This anger at injustice, this empathy for those who suffer under unjust systems. Let it inform how you see the world, how you choose to act within it. But never let it consume you. Righteous anger is a tool, not a master."
Harry thought about that as they reached the portkey—the same weathered baseball from earlier. As the familiar pull of portkey travel yanked them away from Ilvermorny, he found himself hoping that Robert and his sister might somehow be reunited.
That the protesters might actually create change.
But he also understood, with the hard-won wisdom of his eleven years, that hope alone wasn't enough. Real change required courage, sacrifice, and unwavering determination.
As the world dissolved into swirling colour, Harry held tight to Luna's hand and promised himself that when his own time came to fight for something that mattered, he wouldn't back down.
No matter the cost.