“Man, how did you pull us out of that Wronski feint? I thought we’d hit the ground at hundred miles per hour”, Viktor Krum pulled fingers through his hair.

“We probably would have”, Harry nodded. “I used the charm Dumbledore saved my life with once, when Dementors attacked me at altitude and I lost consciousness and dropped from my broom. Arresto Momentum”.

“But you didn’t even have a wand. You held onto your broom for dear life with both hands, just like me”, Viktor looked him, confused.

“I actually don’t have to use my wand now for most spells. Lyra was teaching me”, Harry admitted.

“Woah”. Viktor’s look turned into pure amazement.

Harry smiled. “I married well, what can I say”.

“You can say that again”, Viktor nodded. “Although, I think I didn’t do too bad either”, he smiled.

“We both struck gold”, Harry nodded and fist-bumped him. “Kreacher, what are the ladies doing?”, he addressed the Elf.

“The Mistresses are discussing state politics and honing their rhetorical skills, as befits their sophistication and high status”, Kreacher croaked proudly.

“Hair or nails?”, Viktor smiled.

“Nails. They finished hair an hour ago”, Kreacher confirmed.

“It’s so nice to be home”, Harry laughed.

Home, of course, was number 12, Grimmauld Place. Lyra was adamant about not wanting to live in the Malfoy Manor with her parents. She had too many horrible memories of that place from the dark years, and also, she refused to live under her father’s authority any more, after he placed her in that terrible situation by foolishly betting on Voldemort for the second time. There was never a big fight and they were always cordial, but, in her words, she’s an adult woman and her husband is the only authority she needs in her life now.

The dark stuff in the house turned out to be less of an issue than Harry anticipated. As it turned out, there’s no higher authority for a House Elf than his Master’s command, and as he now accepted Harry and Lyra without any reservation, with full heart and his sanity restored, one command from Harry sufficed and he could undo all the protective spells that prevented tampering. Heads of the deceased House Elves were buried in the family crypt with full honours, and their status was elevated from slaves to family members. On Hermione’s recommendation, Harry offered Kreacher freedom if he so desired, but the Elf refused it outright, stating that he is now a Black family member and wishes to remain with his family forever, and freedom to serve them is the only freedom he desires. Since he and Harry shared full stories about that terrible cave, they formed a true bond. So, Walburga’s portrait was taken to the crypt, where she may entertain herself by yelling at her fellow dead, and in its place hung portraits of Sirius and Regulus, and Harry’s parents.

The Black family tree, however, remained on the wall, but with all the names Walburga blasted with her wand restored, and a few more added.

At first, Harry and Lyra enjoyed their freedom and solitude, but after a week they started missing their friends, so Hermione and Viktor were there so often that they had their own full apartment set up on the upper floor, and at some point, all four looked at each other and laughed; they were moved in for months before realising they actually moved in, so they just made it official. After all, since Viktor became an Auror, all four worked at the Ministry and 12 Grimmauld Place was the most secure, unplottable fortress they could possibly have, meeting their security requirements handily, and it was also huge; big enough for the entire Order of Phoenix with children to live there comfortably before the war.

After Lyra’s successful lobbying, the laws were introduced that changed Ministry policy to accommodate the needs of married couples and women specifically, so installations were made that spatially merged one room in the house with their office in the Ministry, so that they could work from home, and still be fully available in the course of their duties. After all, Lyra’s argument made the lawmakers understand that they could not afford to lose neither their abilities, nor their children. As it turned out, this made them more productive, not less. It made the workplace less formal and uptight, but it also made it terrifyingly streamlined, since there was no question of children being left alone while their parents were at work all day. The women were nursing each other’s babies half the time anyway, and things of that kind were now protected as a matter of law; if a mother is nursing her baby, everything else can wait, be it work, state or God. They were no longer pretending to be a muggle tax office. But if Lyra or Hermione had work to do outside the house, one would always step in with the babies, and nobody even had to ask. Having this most important logistics taken care of made them incredibly efficient, the way secure, loved people are efficient. Harry and Viktor, on their part, enjoyed the calm, easy atmosphere, sharing a pint of beer and chilling after work, and they also enjoyed their private Quidditch competition every Sunday. Just the two of them and the snitch, in back country, out of muggle sight. Seeker against Seeker. No distracting nonsense. They were, essentially, one family made of two couples, their children, and Kreacher. They joked that the kids will grow up with two sets of moms and dads and never know which set is “theirs”, and it wasn’t far from the truth. From the outside, they were seen as the most formidable, respectable, wealthy and, honestly, terrifying people in the world. From the inside, they looked like a bunch of cats sleeping and purring on the couch.

As for the wealth, Hermione dug out an ancient but valid contract issued by the Ministry, offering a reward to anyone finding a way to deal with the Dementors. The reward was ridiculously large and unpayable: ten million Galleons. However, when Hermione brought a Ministry official to Lyra, they agreed to terms. Lyra had no wish to bankrupt the Ministry, but she didn’t want to reduce her children’s rightful inheritance either, so they agreed on the total sum of a hundred thousand gold Galleons, transferred to the Malfoy-Potter Gringotts vault in ten annual instalments of ten thousand galleons each, since Lyra was adamant that her husband was an equal contributor to the spell and she absolutely couldn’t to it without him. Also, it was done in line of their work, albeit fully in excess of any and all reasonable expectations, so she gave them a comfortable compromise, and the official left them looking extremely relieved.

Lucius was very generous with his only daughter’s dowry; especially since her husband adopted their family name. This reward was nowhere near that amount, and even further from what they would eventually get, being the sole heirs to the Malfoy estate, but still, she remembered Harry telling her how she should always be proud of being a girl, and this pride flared in her chest. She contributed to the family wealth now, with the money she earned herself, and not merely inherited. Sure, they were so absurdly wealthy they never had to even think about money anyway, and they hardly ever spent any of it since they were all very content and frugal people, but she had an aristocratic upbringing and cared about family wealth. Contributing to it so visibly made her heart swell with pride and warmth.

“Kreacher, do you mind if I ask you something?”, Viktor prompted.

“Not at all, Master Viktor”, the Elf nodded in assent.

“Your old Mistress would be very opposed to anyone who didn’t subscribe to her particular ideas of pure blood, family and so on. Harry was the heir of the Black estate, and Lyra was your ‘Young Mistress’ from when she was a child, so I understand how you may feel about them. But Hermione and I are not family, if we speak strictly of blood. How do you feel about that?”, he looked at the Elf inquisitively.

“Master Harry and Mistress Hermione treated old Kreacher with great kindness when Kreacher was rude and impolite with them. He called Mistress Hermione a mudblood, and Master Harry a blood traitor and other rude names. Still, master Harry entrusted Kreacher with a priceless heirloom of the Black family, from Master Regulus, where Headmaster Dumbledore and Master Harry risked their lives to retrieve the locket, surviving the poison and the Inferi, and Kreacher was there in that terrible place and knows what it was like. They made old Kreacher feel things he never felt before. Kreacher understands now that the old Mistress believed in things Master Regulus died fighting, and Master Harry and Mistress Hermione bravely fought the Dark Lord, hunting his Horcruxes and living in the wilderness like beasts during the war, while they ordered Kreacher to go to Hogwarts and be safe. Master Harry defeated the Dark Lord in a duel, avenging Master Regulus. In Kreacher’s heart, he believes they brought true honour to the House of Black, and Kreacher is proud to call them Masters. This goes for you too, Master Viktor, because you are a husband to Mistress Hermione and a friend to Master Harry, and Kreacher is honoured to be in your service”, the old Elf bowed to the man. Viktor was touched. “Kreacher, I respect you and appreciate you very much. It is an honour for me to have you as a member of my family”.

“How do you do it? Your public speeches have them completely engaged and focused. You get them to laugh. I put them to sleep. I try to be thorough and precise, and all I manage to do is have them check their watches”. Lyra was finished doing Hermione’s hair, and was now doing her nails. Of course they could have done it with magic, but where was the fun in that? She smiled.

“Your mistake is in assuming you’re fighting their lack of information and wrong ideas. Your approach is to create a meticulous, very well researched argument, and then you start with everything everybody would normally miss. So, of course, you lose them in the first sentence.” Lyra applied the acrylic gel very carefully to Hermione’s finger. Normally, it would require UV light to cure, but they did that part with magic.

“Also, your mind is your greatest weapon, so you’re behaving like a person who has a hammer and keeps acting as if everything were a nail. Talking to people is not the same thing as writing a scientific paper. You’re fighting their ignorance, yes, but mostly you’re fighting their boredom, lack of attention, and belief that they have better things to do later. You need to engage them in such a way that they forget about everything else, and you do it by wrestling away their attention from everything else and commanding it instantly. Are you familiar with the medieval mnemotechnic methods? Coena Cypriani, in particular?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the sudden topic shift. “I heard of it, but I can’t say I gave it much thought. Why?”

“Well, they used colourful imagery, that instantly catches attention and wakes up the mind, in order to make something possibly boring or unremarkable extremely easy to remember. It would be something related to sex, indignity or absurdity, and once you remember the funny version of a story, you never forget it, and it’s easy to reconstruct and remember the actual version. That’s the method I use in my speeches. I get their attention with something colourful, and once I have them listening, I just tell them what I need them to know”, Lyra smiled as she applied the dye to the last fingernail of Hermione’s right hand. She closed her eyes, and in a brief flash of magic the dye was cured. Hermione offered her left hand. “Remember how I addressed the Wizengamot after the war?”

“Everybody in the world remembers it”, Hermione smiled. “It was published verbatim in the Daily Prophet, and it became the cornerstone of our politics ever since”.

“Honoured ladies and gentlemen, allow me to bring your attention to a very interesting fact that I noticed. We just won a war against a group that liked killing and torturing people very much, and all of it justified by the supposed fight for wizard supremacy. They had all kinds of derogatory names for people who didn’t share their beliefs. One of them was ‘blood traitor’. I find this term quite funny, since I did some looking into things, inspired by my glorious husband. You see, he brought it to my attention that anything less than three children per couple leads to biological extinction with mathematical certainty. One would expect this to be the cornerstone issue of wizarding politics and ministry policy, but on the contrary, it is never mentioned. The pureblood families instead talk a lot about pure blood and how much it matters, but when it comes to actually making pureblood babies, they always seem to have something better to do – things such as killing or torturing pureblood wizards and witches. Just look at Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. They spent their youth conceiving plans for wizard supremacy, but they never bothered to conceive some actual wizard babies, and so both their families were extinct. The Crouch family had only one son, who was so busy with pureblood supremacy politics that he never bothered to marry, so their family went extinct. The Lestranges, too, cared so much about pure blood that they both never bothered to have children. After all, who would have time for something as trivial, when more important things were at hand, such as torturing the Longbottom couple to insanity and ending up in Azkaban. Even when wizards and witches actually bothered to have children, they would usually stop at one. My own parents used to be the paragons of pureblood supremacy, but they spent their fertile years in political scheming and only bothered to conceive one daughter, whom they, I am sorry to say, exposed to all kinds of dangers by turning our ancestral home into the headquarters of Lord Voldemort and his murderous followers. I could have been killed at any moment and I spent three years in mortal terror; and that’s how they treated an actual pureblood heiress, the only hope for their ancient family to continue. So, I recommend that we redefine the term ‘blood traitor’ for people like the Dumbledores, Crouches, Lestranges and my own parents. They betrayed their blood by allowing their families to come to the brink of extinction, or merrily cross into it, all the while making big statements about the importance of pure blood that served to demean the ‘lesser’ wizarding families, such as the Weasleys, whom I’ve heard addressed in all sorts of derogatory names, ‘blood traitors’ being the foremost, and yet, if we had to name a family that is at no threat of extinction, it would be the Weasleys, because they are a pureblood family that treated their pure blood with enough respect to actually bother having seven children. If anything, they should be given a medal for their great service to the wizarding community, because they acted in honour of their blood, where others spent mere words. And while we’re at that, I will now bid you farewell, because I have a baby to make.”

“You were absolutely hilarious; you had them switch from laughing to deathly seriousness and back to laughter. But your next speech, that was even better”, Hermione laughed so hard that her hand shook and Lyra had to pause painting her nail.

“Most respected judges, I have been called here to tell you about the anti-Dementor spell that I devised. I will do so, but only after I explain the necessary conditions that made its creation possible. You see, there are certain expectations in society, such as that my husband and I, both members of the magical law enforcement, are working when we are at the Ministry, or out in the field, hunting werewolves, dementors and death eaters. But that would be such an unfortunate mistake, because two Aurors, who are also husband and wife, never actually stop working. For instance, at one point we were in bed, resting blissfully after a very enthusiastic effort at making a baby, when I thought that our present state was very much the opposite of what a Dementor is, and thought to make use of this by making a spell that relied on the specific state of both our souls. I would never have thought of it in that boring office, that would make one into a Dementor sooner than giving them an idea on how to defeat one. And why are wizards and witches even spending their best years in that building, pretending to be muggle clerks at the tax office? We are magical beings. We can communicate at a distance. We can connect to coworkers easily from home. We can apparate instantly if there’s a need. I don’t even know who thought of a brilliant idea of wasting magical lives in order to emulate the dreadful muggle bureaucracy that is inherently devoid of everything magical. We can do so much better. We can accommodate for married couples and treat them as a unit, rather than pretending they are separate individuals. Married couples are so much more effective as a team than anything else, and this fact is completely ignored. Also, women are treated as if they were men – and so, no accommodation has been made for the fact that they might want to have babies. It’s actually discouraged and seen as unprofessional, or unbecoming. Believe it or not, I actually hunted down a werewolf while I was six months pregnant, and I think I handled myself quite well. Unfortunately, he resisted arrest, as they somehow always happen to, but that is beside the point, which is that we can’t have an effective repopulation policy unless we stop separating the married couples, having them waste their best reproductive years in dull offices doing paperwork, and treating women with proper respect only if they emulate men, who are never pregnant or breastfeeding an infant. Of course it would be foolish to relegate women to a housewife role only, since we can’t afford to be deprived of their brains and abilities. But we must create an option for a woman to integrate motherhood with career in ways that would make things easier for her, and not create a double burden. Do not underestimate the importance of marital intimacy in a deeply professional setting; I hear that my spell is esteemed quite highly. I just wanted you to know how it came to be, and that, by the way, is a pun. Thank you for your attention”.

“That was fun, especially considering I was so far along with my pregnancy, I was almost in labor when giving that speech”, Lyra grinned, curing the dye on the left hand.

“I would know, since I helped with the delivery, as you well know”, Hermione smiled at her best friend. “And mine was not much behind.”

“So, about the speeches. You seem to think that more evidence and logic will be more convincing. Sure, put it all in the footnotes of a printed copy you give out to the audience. If they want evidence for some thesis, they can find it there. Just don’t lead with that. Give them the bottom line, give them very visual examples that illustrate it, and then just indicate that there’s more if they’re interested. Give them an example from real life. For instance, if you want them to take House Elf rights seriously, tell them about Doby or Kreacher. Make them feel like the actual persons they are. Don’t get too abstract. I know, you do it because you’re good at it but it’s counterproductive at times”, Lyra smiled and returned the hand with the freshly finished nail job.

Hermione hugged her. “Thank you, my goddess”, she giggled.

“Wait, how am I your goddess if I’m doing your hair and nails?”, Lyra hugged her back. “I thought I was your lady’s maid”.

“No, you’re just a wonderful goddess who has a very intimate and personal relationship with your worshipper”.

Lyra whined out of embarrassment, to Hermione’s delight. “Beige pink?”

“The usual”, Lyra smiled as Hermione took her hand.

“Tell me how it was for you”, Hermione was sitting on the couch next to Lyra, while Harry and Viktor were talking Quidditch. “To me, when you were being offensive and hostile, I initially reacted with the typical childish pouting. You know the kind, ‘she’s just a stupid cow’”, she giggled. “But when I saw you later for what you are, it became one of the worst feelings in the world. You were not a stupid cow. You were horrifyingly intelligent, competent, dignified and brave; I was despised and considered subhuman by the best girl of our generation. After your stunt in the hallway when you challenged Harry to kill you, I outright admired you, and my reaction would normally be to come talk to you and tell you how impressive that was, but I was too much of a coward to face the possible humiliation of you looking at me from head to toe, making a face like you smelled something nasty, and just silently turning away”, she finished.

“I’d like to be able to say that you were wrong, because I really was a stupid cow”, Lyra grinned painfully. “I was just a kid repeating what my parents taught me, and at first, I thought that the ‘mudbloods’ were people devoid of all the virtues I was taught to be the property of a pureblood wizard or a witch; intelligence, courage, dignity, refinement, tradition, magical ability, nobility and so on. Then I saw people like Crabbe and Goyle, who were idiotic buffoons, while you were the smartest girl in our generation, a magical prodigy, and a brave girl who stood by Harry Potter, who was at first number one on a list my mother taught me, of the boys from ancient magical families who are fit for me to consider for marriage. Soon, he became the only name on my list. And not only did I have to live with the fact that I offended a girl who might have been my friend and confidante through school, but she was also ideally positioned to destroy my life by either taking him away from me, or poisoning his mind against me. To my great fortune, you proved to be a better person than I, and I found out that when you talked to Harry about me, you were impartial and kind. But probably the worst of all was, I couldn’t face any of it at the time. If I was wrong about you, then one of the cornerstones of my parents’ ideology falls. They might even be on the wrong side of the coming war. I could look at Harry and concede that the parts of his mother in him made him better, not worse, but I managed to rationalise it somehow. So, I remained stubborn, if inoffensive, until Voldemort came back and I saw what he’s actually like, and I understood that my father was completely, unjustifiably wrong, and I was stuck at the wrong side of the war, in the headquarters of the worst people in the world, and even worse creatures, where I regretted every nasty word and ugly thought I ever sent your way, and yearned to apologise”, Lyra sighed.

“You weren’t in an easy position”, Hermione nodded. “I can’t imagine what it would have been like for me to find out that my parents taught me wrong and are sided with the greatest evil in the world, and that by trusting them I did all kinds of horrible things. But probably the worst for me was knowledge that you might be right about me. Harry kept your confidence like a perfect gentleman, but he revealed the general gist of your conversations. I couldn’t say for sure that you’re wrong. And also, what I read between the lines is that you’re such a magnificent person, that even what little I surmised seemed to be very far off the mark. Knowing you despised me was hard enough, but knowing that your actual reason was that I lacked tradition, upbringing, that I wouldn’t know the fairy tales the wizards tell their children, that I knew next to nothing about that entire world, and that I might actually be someone who will make a pureblood wizard bond to me for life, only to have non-magical offspring and see his tradition disappear forever. What if I actually end up being a hamster – a cute pet one can’t have a family with? I think I only got over that once I saw my baby levitating in the crib, obviously magical, so I could finally set that terrible thought aside and accept that I’m a proper person”, she shivered.

“It was a terrible thing I did to you, but I didn’t know it was wrong, either. Scientifically, we didn’t actually know. The statistical pool was too shallow for certainty. Squibs happened, and nobody still knows why. Harry might have been an outlier. We don’t actually know how magical blood emerges in muggle marriages, and if it’s inheritable. Your obviously magical daughter increased the statistical probability that I was wrong by a huge factor; that’s how little we know. My obviously magical son is also contributing slightly, and I can’t say I wasn’t a little bit scared; for all I knew, some recessive gene from Lily Evans might have activated in the second generation. However, with what I know now, I would not hesitate to redefine ‘pureblood’ to include you and Lily. You are both obviously pureblood witches. Your magical ability is formidable, and matched by the purity and kindness of your character. Your magical ability is inheritable. What you lacked in education and tradition is easily learned”, Lyra smiled.

“Thank you”, Hermione smiled back and cuddled with her best friend. “You know, I wanted to ease the pang of your insults by believing that the purebloods are just a bunch of inbred haters. However, you actually looked like a superior human being. Other than hating me, I couldn’t point to any single thing where you didn’t appear perfect. You were so beautiful other girls hurt to look at you. You were so smart, I had to work to keep up. You actually looked like a concentration of magical essence and all other virtues. But then I saw other pureblood wizards and some truly looked like inbred haters, so I decided it’s just you being a freak of nature”, she laughed. “It didn’t hurt less to have a beautiful super-genius princess think you’re a hamster, but I didn’t actually feel like one. Instead, I developed a girl crush on you”.

“What does that mean?”, Lyra wondered.

“It’s a muggle thing. It’s what they call one girl admiring another for being all the things you aspire to be. It’s not romantic or sexual, but I guess it’s the second best thing to religious worship”, Hermione smiled shyly. “And to be perfectly honest, since you hit me with that spell of yours, I’m not actually sure it didn’t cross into full religious worship”.

“Please don’t do this to me, Hermione. I’m conceited enough as it is already. I’d actually rather have you think I’m an inbred cow; at least sometimes”, Lyra hugged her and hid her embarrassment in her hair.

“Oh, I’m fully aware that my personal goddess is completely human. However, that just makes you even better, so suck it up”, she giggled at her friend’s embarrassed whine.