He'd learned his lesson about talking back.
When detention finally ended, even Ludd seemed eager to be done with it. "Same time tomorrow, Semmes," she said curtly, gathering her things and putting on her coat. "Be punctual."
It was a lonely walk back to Gryffindor Tower. Even Peeves had abandoned the corridors for livelier environs. Portraits whispered as he passed, spreading their takes on the latest school gossip:
"Michel and Fairburne? Impossible! A Slytherin and a Gryffindor—why, in our day, that would have been a duel at dawn!"
"–dungbombs in the Prefects’ Bathroom. The beadle was scrubbing the ceiling!"
Everyone was out in Hogsmeade.
Everyone except him.
The common room was nearly empty. A few first-years were still up. The boys were playing Exploding Snap in the corner. Studious little Minerva McGonagall was dozing over a book. Pal looked up hopefully when Jack entered.
“Care to play with us, Mr. Semmes?” he asked.
“Not tonight, Pal, sorry.” Jack couldn’t handle exuberant children right now. Especially junior agents.
He slumped into an armchair by the fire, next to the radio. On Jack and Teddy’s request, Oliver had ingeniously run an extension to the antenna out though the window and hooked it directly into the metal spire of Gryffindor Tower, massively increasing its range. With a powerful enough emitter, it could probably pick up broadcasts from outer space now.
But as it was, Jack fiddled with the lower end of the dial until he caught the familiar crackle of W.A.N.D.'s evening broadcast. He kept the volume low so as not to bother anyone.
"—and that's the weather from Salem to San Francisco. Before our evening music program, we have the news: President Truman met with President Longchamp* at Camp David to discuss MACUSA's concerns about the growing Soviet presence in Eastern Europe today, while the No-Maj Congress continues to debate the General Marshall Plan. And in New York, magical activity continues to interfere with the new No-Maj television broadcasts. Remember folks, keep those wands away from your TV if you want to see!
“And now, coming to you live from the Crystal Ballroom, the No-Maj Titan of the Trombone bringing you a Jerome Kern classic that will keep your toe tapping and your girl swinging all Friday night long: Tommy Dorsey and his Orchestra with "
The strains of warm strings and mellow brass filled the air around him.
“Time and again I've longed for adventure,
Something to make my heart beat the faster.
What did I long for? I never really knew…”
Jack lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl up toward the common room's vaulted ceiling. He picked up the issue of the Daily Prophet on the end table and glanced at the headline: "Wizarding East Rises: MaChK’s Bold Reforms at Durmstrang." He tossed it aside.
One week. Just one week since setting foot on this stupid continent that his dad’s side of his family tree spent every last red cent to get away from, and everything had gone sideways.
He'd wanted adventure, alright.
Wanted to see Europe, take in the world, meet girls, maybe make a name for himself beyond being the son of Thomas Semmes, war hero, Franklin Medal recipient.
Now he was stuck in a tower on a Friday night, while everyone else was off having the time of their lives. Probably talking about him, without him.
“You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long.
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song…”
He closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was back home at Ilvermorny. Back where things made sense. Where everything had its place after five years of institutionalisation. Where he could play Quodpot without having to relearn every habit, where kids didn’t follow him around like lemmings, where he could cast spells without being corrected by Winterborn for "sloppy technique," where people drove on the right, where he could talk to a dame without it becoming a freaking international incident.
Even as he thought it, he knew he didn't mean it. Because Cassandra Hightower wasn’t back there. Everything else seemed tawdry by comparison.
And being at Ilvermorny sucked. He grinned in spite of himself. Have some perspective.
The magical smoke from his cigarette responded to his thoughts and formed shapes in the firelight - a car, a broomstick, and a girl with flowing hair wearing a long coat. Jack puffed out a smoke cloud that turned into the shape of a boy like himself. The car and broomstick dissolved as the two little figures began slowly dancing together…
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“You are the angel glow that lights a star,
The dearest things I know are what you are.
Some day my happy arms will hold you,
And some day I'll know that moment divine,
When all the things you are, are mine!”
"Pathetic, Semmes. Playing with dolls," he muttered, and waved his hand in the air to dispel the smoke.
His mind wandered to her back again, and he caught himself with a surge of frustration.
What was the matter with him? She clearly couldn't stand him.
And why shouldn't she? He was making her life miserable, just like Ludd said. Every time someone saw them together now, even in class, they'd be wondering if it was part of some stupid scheme. Every interaction scrutinized, analyzed, and reported back.
Jack lit a second cigarette with the stub end of his first and viciously threw the spent one into the fireplace.
She was off limits.
And, even if by some miracle she did like him - which she definitely didn't, that gesture in Ravenclaw Tower was just a fluke - it would only cause problems for everyone.
Merlin’s breath, what would her parents think?! The duchess-heiress, bringing home a schmuck like you? You’re nothing but trouble for her!
The announcer returned: “And now wizards and witches, what's the one thing we never seem to have enough of? That's right - time! Well, we've got just the remedy for your timepiece troubles, coming to you live from the Crystal Ballroom, RCA Building in Manhattan. Here's Jule Styne's new magical meditation on moments that matter, ...
“Time after time
I tell myself that I'm
So lucky to be loving you…”
“Franklin’s forty eight states,” Jack growled, “Is every damn song about being in love?”
He didn’t change the station though.
Stay away from her, the rational part of his mind in his developing prefrontal cortex urged. It made perfect sense. Clear as crystal. Simple as that. Easy peasy. Just stop thinking about her. You got good friends here. Find a new dame. Focus on having fun. Focus on classes. Focus on literally anything else.
But what if... spoke up his emotional side, deeply entrenched in his robust limbic system. What if that almost-smile meant something? What if she secretly likes you and can’t show it? What if—
What if you get her in trouble, you moron? Logic countered. What if Ludd is right? What if Montfort gets you thrown out because of her? What if you get Dad in trouble?
Screw you man, this is a girl in a million. Heck, she’s a girl in a million WITH a million! She’s rich AND beautiful. Don’t you wanna date a duchess? Why would any red-blooded American boy let a chance like this slip away? C’mon, what would Main and the guys back home say?
You’re thinking with your thing. Find. Another. Broad.
No way José, did you notice how she slightly bites her lower lip when she’s concentrating on something? Those lips look pretty kissable to me.
Jack stirred at the memory.
You know what, I got a better idea, just swear dames off entirely until we get back home and find someone sane–
Or how she puts her hair back into her braid when it gets loose?
–a nice American girl. That’s what we need. One of those Southern dolls with sass and fancy dresses. Have Main introduce us.
Or the way her robes rise above her ankles when she walks…
STOP! I’M BEGGING YOU! FOR THE LOVE OF FRANKLIN, STOP THINKING ABOUT–
BANG!
A particularly explosive round of Snap from the first-years' corner shattered his internal argument.
Jack turned slowly in his chair like a movie villain, cigarette smoldering in his hand.
Pal and Mel were rolling with laughter along with two more of their classmates. Wiggy's eyebrows were smoking.
The hilarity died instantly as Jack glared at them. The cards, sensing the mood, didn't dare make another sound.
Jack slouched back in his armchair and half-closed his eyes. A small pig-tailed shadow fell across him. He looked up to find Minerva McGonagall standing next to him. Her back was as straight as a ruler, her chin lifted as she clutched a large book to her chest. She pushed her square-rimmed glasses up her nose.
“Mr. Semmes,” she said in a tone that sounded comically grown-up coming from an eleven-year-old, "I noticed you seemed distressed. Perhaps you might enjoy this." She held out the book with both hands.
Jack blinked, anger forgotten as he took in the beautiful volume. The cover was bound in deep green leather traced with silver runes that shifted and glowed like starlight. A miniature mountain range rose from its surface, complete with tiny pine trees and wisps of mist. As he watched, a minuscule red dragon soared across the peaks.
“It’s a special edition,” Minerva explained, like she was delivering a well-practiced recitation in class. “The illustrations move, but only when you want them to. They shan’t distract you otherwise.”
“Wow. Thanks, Minnie.” Jack opened the book as Minerva retired upstairs to the girls’ dorm. The pages carried the scent of fresh pine needles and wood smoke. He turned to the first page:
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."
*Kingfisher Longchamp (1897–1951): The fiery and divisive president of MACUSA from 1944 to 1951, Longchamp ascended to office during a period of global magical reconstruction following the Great Wizarding War. Born in the Louisiana magical enclave of Bayou de Sorcier, Longchamp rose to prominence as a spellbinding orator and political powerhouse, leveraging his appeal to push through sweeping reforms in post-war wizarding America.
His tenure is remembered for ambitious modernization efforts, strengthening the office of the Presidency, and fierce rhetoric. Longchamp’s vision for MACUSA revolved around empowering "the common witch and wizard" while rooting out "dangerous radicalism in our midst." A staunch opponent of Equitism, which he denounced as “a Trojan horse,” Longchamp enacted strict laws limiting the influence of Muggle integration and magical creature advocacy groups. He also massively expanded the Auror Corps, justifying it as necessary to combat internal and external threats to the American magical community.
In foreign policy, Longchamp sought to elevate MACUSA’s influence on the global stage. He fostered closer ties with wizarding Britain and Japan, arguing that strong alliances were vital to counter both influence from the Soviet MaChK and "creeping equitist sympathies" in Europe and Asia. His Wizarding Reconstruction Act of 1948 (also known as the Longchamp Plan) provided generous funding for magical infrastructure and education for countries rebuilding from the Great Wizarding War (especially Great Britain), though critics claimed his programs also benefited his political allies in the rural magical U.S. states.
Longchamp’s larger-than-life personality and authoritarian tendencies earned him both fervent supporters and bitter enemies. His controversial policies and fear of his growing power culminated in his assassination by an Equitist sympathizer in 1951 at the height of the Secret Wizarding War. Despite his contentious legacy, Longchamp is credited with reshaping MACUSA into the assertive global force that it remains to this day.
Meier, Sidonius. (1996). Power From the People: The Presidents Who Shaped Magical America. Philadelphia: Fiery Axis Publishing.