"No way!" our parents exclaimed in unison, but only Father continued. "Phenomenal, simply phenomenal."
"Exactly!"
"And that is what I am saying. Sure, it will hurt at the moment of injury, but what is pain if not just a signal?"
That concluded today's conversations, and I went to my room. I was tired. Time to sleep.
Tuesday morning predictably began with exercise and physical training, after which I headed for the shower. Naturally, it was occupied. Mom was on the first floor, Hermione on the second. I did not have to wait long, and soon the shower was free. Hermione's hairstyle, however, provoked a barely restrained desire to collapse into hysterical laughter. Seeing this in person is much more impressive than from the vegetable's memories.
"This is not funny at all," my sister puffed up. "Magic outside Hogwarts is forbidden, and to fix this…"
Hermione tugged a lock of hair aside, shifting the entire center of that mane.
"…only magic would help."
After breakfast, our whole family went to London to walk around, shop, and sit in restaurants. Intellectually, I understood how much of social activity I had missed. From early November, various pre-Christmas events take place on different streets in London, festive lights are lit, performances and concerts are held. But even having missed all that, you can still enjoy trips and walks through various beautiful places.
That day we visited many iconic streets: Oxford Street, where concerts had taken place in November, leaving behind bright decorations in the form of glowing figures and illuminations on buildings; we went to Covent Garden, caught a couple of sales, and sat in a cafe; by evening we reached Sloane Square, walked around the plaza admiring trees decorated with garlands, and eventually headed to Pavilion Road, following the call of our stomachs.
At the final point of the route, we almost returned back, ending up not far from Oxford Street, more precisely Regent Street with its monstrous figurative decorations of yellow lights. And from there, Soho was within easy reach, a place where one can disappear for a very, very long time.
During the walk, even though we moved from area to area by car, Hermione and I managed to talk. Not about anything important, not about family relationships or the like. Everything was much simpler. Watching what caught her attention, I managed to determine that she really is a girl, not a robot, just overly pragmatic. Few people know that she does not own a single skirt or other feminine trinkets. They are simply impractical and unnecessary in her view. Jeans, hoodies, sweaters, and other unisex clothing are fine. But, according to her, one day, when there is a good reason, she will definitely wear a dress, ideally a ball gown. Turquoise or sky blue. She said so herself.
At the slightest injustice, my sister immediately tensed up and began thinking out loud about it. An amusing desire to change the world for the better, but that "better" must correspond only to her vision.
We returned home tired and went to our rooms fairly quickly.
Wednesday passed at about the same pace, only with different routes and establishments. Several times we talked about magic, sharing our views on various magical disciplines with our parents. They were interested to learn how magic actually works, the magic so often featured in fantasy books. Hermione gladly shared her thoughts, mostly borrowed from books. I simply said that all you need is will and imagination to bring something into being, and that the limits of what is possible are determined by the power of consciousness.
"No, that is not true," Hermione insisted when we were driving. "Books clearly state the necessity of a gesture and a word for spellcasting."
"Within wand magic, yes."
"But…"
"As a child, were there manifestations of magic without any wands? There were. That fact alone is enough to understand the possibility of casting without a wand, gestures, or words."
"Then why are we taught that way?"
"How should I know?" I protested. "Look, in Africa there is a school called Uagadou. Do you know it?"
"No. How do you know?"
"From books, Mione," I smiled at my sister sitting beside me and turned back to the window. "They say all magic originated in Africa in one way or another. A rather debatable claim, but that is not the point. They have been casting without wands since ancient times, and the trigger for them is almost as simple as pointing a finger. The best in Astronomy, Alchemy, and self-transfiguration. They do use wands too, of course, but more as a courtesy and a way to understand spellcasting methods in the rest of the world."
"What book?"
"Survey works by wizarding historians. Check the relevant section of the library when we get back."
That gave Hermione something to think about. Thus ended Wednesday, December twenty-second.
A surprise for me was the morning phone call on Thursday the twenty-third. It caught us just as we were finishing breakfast.
"I will get it," Father stood up from the table, and returned half a minute later. "Hector, it is for you."
"Hm? Unexpected."
Getting up from the table, I went to the hallway and picked up the phone from one of the small tables.
"Hello?"
"Hector? Hi, it is Justin."
"Oh, hi."
"I wanted to ask you something."
"I am listening."
"Hector, would you like to come over for a small party? Just for friends. Something like festive get-togethers."
"I think it is possible, I will just ask my parents. When, by the way?"
"Today. We are a bit young for evening soirees, so from one to six."
"Got it. I will check with my parents in case they have plans for today. I would not want to cancel them, since we have not seen each other in so long. Can you hold the line?"
"Yeah, I get it," Justin was clearly smiling from his tone. "No problem."
Placing the receiver next to the phone on the table, I returned to the dining room.
"Mom, Dad, quick question."
"Yes, dear?" Mom responded immediately.
"I have been invited to visit today, from one to six. Do you have any plans?"
"Not really," Mom shook her head, as did Father.
"I thought," Hermione spoke up, "that we could spend more time together."
"If you want, I can ask Justin. I doubt he would mind you as my plus one."
Returning to the hallway, I picked up the receiver.
"Hey, Justin, are you there?"
"Yes, Hector. So how is it?"
"My parents have no plans."
"That is good."
"Yeah. And can I bring Hermione?"
"I think so," Justin answered without hesitation. "There will be kids from Hogwarts here."
"Oh? That is unexpected. That is… very unexpected."
"It was both easy and difficult at the same time. Will you come yourselves, or should I send a car for you?"
From his intonation it was clear that Justin sincerely hoped for the first option, and he offered the alternatives purely out of politeness.
"Ourselves. Just tell me where."
"Oh, right, write it down."
My prudent parents keep a notepad, sticky notes, and a pen holder on that table. That is the end of the twentieth century for you. I remember the total computerization of my past life with sadness. Everything was at hand then, and even dreaming of neural networks from the pilot shard's memories is pointless. Though who knows what things could be devised with magic?
Writing down the address and saying goodbye to Justin, I returned to the kitchen. The tea was not finished yet.
"So?" Hermione asked immediately.
"You are coming with me," I nodded, and everyone at the table smiled. "Dad, will you drive us?"
I handed Father the sheet with the address. He looked, thought, raised his eyebrows, and nodded. We did have to ask him to drive me to the Leaky Cauldron first, though. I had not bought the gifts yet, and the discovery made at the Three Broomsticks was too unexpected. It does not really concern me, but still. There are not that many events in magical England, from what I can tell.
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