Caught Between

Chapter 3: Social Obligations

I learned very early in our relationship that Mack was a sports fan. When he visited my flat, he would avidly watch whatever happened to be on television and wax nostalgic about attending games with his grandfather as a child. Football, basketball, golf -- it didn't matter. However, I never quite grasped the depths of his devotion until he took me to a Quidditch match.

Mack spent the month of January apparently trying to drive me mad. He left a book entitled Quidditch Through the Ages prominently displayed in his flat but charmed its pages shut in order to maintain an air of mystery about the game. I soon discovered that he had also sworn his parents and friends to secrecy.

Because the game was quite a distance from any railway station, I drove the rented car while Mack acted as a navigator. I had been surprised when he confessed that he didn't have a driver's license, but I must admit that I felt a little smug about finally finding something in the non-magical world that he wasn't able to do. It evened the score between us a bit.

We parked the car in a desolate area about three-quarters of a mile from our final destination, where we met up with Rob. He handed over the surprisingly warm cloak that Cassandra had previously agreed to lend me, so I thoroughly enjoyed the twilight walk through the snow. In spite of being warned about anti-Muggle charms around the place, I still felt a strange urge to bolt as we neared the stadium. Mack and Rob both had to grab my hands to keep me from running away. Fortunately, the desire soon passed, and we found our seats.

The innocuous-looking pitch didn't give me any clue as to what would happen next. However, once the players emerged from the dressing rooms and began their pre-game warm-ups, I provided Mack with the reaction he'd been looking for.

Scooping my jaw off the ground for the umpteenth time in the last two months, I managed to croak out, "So the broom thing isn't a myth, is it?" Mack then started laughing so hard that tears were leaking out of his eyes. I took advantage of this opportunity to elbow him sharply in the ribs, but soon I was giggling, too. I could never stay angry at him for long.

As Cassandra flew by, giving us a wave, Mack and Rob started explaining the rules of the game. The fact that there were seven players on a side and four enchanted balls seemed fairly straightforward. However, after the game began, the guys moved on to a detailed Chaser strategy discussion and completely lost me. I did absorb enough to cheer loudly when Cassandra scored against the opposing Keeper twice in a row, but I was nothing, volume-wise, compared to Mack. As the match went on, he grew quite hoarse as he yelled increasingly more creative insults at the referee. I was glad when the Montrose Magpies' Seeker finally caught the Snitch to end the game; I was sure Mack's blood pressure would go through the roof if it went on any longer.

"So, did you like it?" he asked as we made our way to the exit.

"It was amazing. It must be wonderful to fly that fast," I replied enthusiastically.

"I promise I'll take you for a ride sometime soon. Meanwhile, let's meet up with Cassandra and have a drink to celebrate the victory."

It turned out that "sometime soon" was only a half hour later because Cassandra had hidden Mack's broom in her changing room at his request. Outside the stadium, I grabbed him tightly around the waist as I climbed on behind him. He considerately skimmed the ground closely until I felt more relaxed. "Are you ready for a little more speed?" he asked over his shoulder. When I assented, he leaned forward and accelerated.

As we rose higher into the air, the moonlit landscape spread out before us, and lights from a village several miles away became visible. I nervously tightened my grip when we cleared the treetops; flying this high with no safety net was a little disconcerting. However, a few dives and rolls caused me to actually whoop with excitement for the first time in years. This was far better than any roller coaster I had ever tried. We took the long route back to the car with Rob and Cassandra following at a discreet distance.

A short drive later, the four of us settled in at a wizard pub in the village nearby. Eventually, the conversation drifted around to my reaction to the nature of Quidditch.

"You know," I said, "it's been nearly two months since I found out about, um, everything, but I still keep getting blindsided by new revelations."

"Don't worry about it too much, Liz," Rob replied. "It still happens to me occasionally, even after several years at Hogwarts. I mean, here I was, a little eleven-year old kid suddenly learning that I could do magic. Then I find out we're in the middle of a war..."

"A WAR? What are you talking about?" Like many textbooks from my own schooldays, Mack's old history book didn't contain any information about events after 1965.

My companions all squirmed in their seats. Together, Mack and Cassandra began the story of growing up in fear of a dark wizard whose name they refused to speak. I gasped when Cassandra told of the deaths of several relatives, including her father. Suddenly, I understood why Defense Against the Dark Arts had been a required course for them.

"My family was luckier," said Mack, "but my parents' shop was vandalized more than once. Mum was even afraid to let me go to Hogwarts. She didn't want me out of her sight. You can imagine how we all celebrated when You-Know-Who was defeated that Halloween. We even had another Sorting feast in the middle of November after all the students who had been kept at home showed up. Rob and I finally got some more roommates."

"I was one of the late-comers," added Cassandra. "You know, it still amazes me that we owe this peace to a baby." Seeing the astonishment on my face, she continued, "Yes, no one quite knows how little Harry Potter caused You-Know-Who's curse to backfire after it killed his parents. Of course, Harry's at Hogwarts now and still making news. Somehow he managed to enter the Tournament even though he's underage." She looked around the table. "We were a little upset that he overshadowed Cedric Diggory; he's in our old House."

Even though the conversation was now directed to the more cheerful topic of the ongoing Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was still relieved when Mack said we ought to be heading home. Driving back to London, I silently stewed over all this new information. I knew that my parents had extremely vague memories of World War II bombings from their early childhood, so I tried to tell myself that Mack's experience wasn't much different, just disturbingly recent. Saying goodbye in my flat, he reiterated his willingness to answer any questions. I promised I would ask him more later.

****

The next five months passed swiftly. I managed to settle into a new equilibrium as no more enormous bombshells appeared. In my "regular life," I had never noticed before how often my friends or co-workers mentioned the word "magic" in jokes or casual conversation. Now, I found myself stiffening involuntarily whenever it happened, but I don't think anyone noticed. Gradually, walking this fine line between two worlds and maintaining Mack's "cover story" grew easier.

The fact that I was able to talk things over with my family helped immensely. I even sent them some of my reading material after I had finished. Dad particularly enjoyed The Fallacies of Muggle Physics, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the fact it contradicted many of the things he was teaching in his classes. Mum started up a correspondence with Mack's mother Belinda, which seemed to ease most of her worst fears. Becky and I had frequent phone conversations, and I think she was only half-joking when she asked if Mack knew any single wizards she could date because "normal guys are so boring in comparison."

At the beginning of June, I found myself standing on a stool in Madam Malkin's shop being measured for a light blue robe while Belinda Robertson looked on approvingly. The strange symbols embroidered in silver on the sleeves and around the hem of the garment perfectly fit my childhood stereotypes of a sorceress. "You really don't have to do this, but I appreciate it," I said while examining my reflection in the mirror. I definitely felt like a little girl playing dress-up.

"Oh, it's my pleasure, Liz. You'll need it for Granny's party after you get back from your trip. Besides, I want you to help me find a Muggle dress for the wedding. The one I have is at least ten years old, and I'm sure it must be sadly out of style."

It was. However, she had to wear it for our shopping expedition. At least she had found a large enough handbag to conceal her wand and didn't do anything to bring undue attention to herself. After much searching, we finally found a dress, and I insisted on paying. When I pulled out my credit card, she shook her head and whispered a little too loudly, "Is that really money? What will Muggles think of next?" Mercifully, the clerk did not overhear.

Mack and his father were amused when we told them the story that evening at supper. "You know, I think that Gringotts should look into issuing some of those. Carrying around heavy bags of Sickles can be tiring," Mack added with a smile, "but I suppose it's good exercise." I smiled back, contented with the prospect of joining this happy family.

****

To borrow a phrase from one of my favorite novels, "Reader, I married him."

Everything went off without a hitch. Because school was still in session, the rest of my family only arrived in London the afternoon before the wedding. We took them on a quick trip through Diagon Alley and then retired back to my flat. At Dad's suggestion, we spent part of an entertaining evening conducting a "scientific experiment" to see how many spells Mack could cast on my old calculator before it shorted out. (The conclusion: twelve Summoning spells and fifteen levitations.)

At his request, I let Mack handle all of the legal arrangements through the Muggle Relations Office at the Ministry. I didn't ask about the background of the minister of the church where we had agreed to meet Mack and his parents, but he didn't blink an eye when Mack pulled out a large parchment marriage license with gold-and-silver flashing ink. The no-frills ceremony took less than fifteen minutes, but both mothers were rather weepy by the end.

After we all shared a leisurely lunch, Mack and I had to catch our plane. We enjoyed a romantic week in Italy where I dragged him through every art museum in sight while he showed me Rome's wizarding district hidden in the ruins of the Forum. Even though I'd never seen Mack show any interest in fashion before, he couldn't stop himself from buying a stylish new cloak in one of the boutiques there. The wizard artists' studios fascinated me the most; each charmed speck of paint seemed to bring the pictures further to life. The date of our flight home arrived much too quickly for our tastes.

The next few days after our return to London were spent moving my belongings from my flat to his. Since he was able to magically lighten the boxes and furniture, it was not nearly as awful a task as I had anticipated.

The day after we finished the move, we were invited to the 100^th birthday party for Mack's great-grandmother. This age was not exceptional for wizards, but it was still worthy of the largest family celebration in years. When I had learned this and expressed concern about differing life-spans, Mack had cheerfully acknowledged that he would probably outlive me, but said that it was his problem to deal with, not mine.

I carefully put on my new robes in preparation. I didn't have any need for the cleverly disguised wand pocket, but I was glad I wouldn't stand out in the crowd. Although I had been assured that close relatives already knew about me and everyone else would accept me, I didn't want to wear anything that shouted "Muggle" like a neon sign.

This was my first experience of traveling long distances by magical means. Mack had filled out a Portkey application before we left on our honeymoon. I was a little nervous as he wrapped his arms around me with instructions to touch the charmed cardboard box he had obtained. Even though he had warned me, I was still unsettled by the sensation of being hooked around the middle and flying through nothingness. As we stumbled to a stop, I couldn't help asking, "Is this what's it like to Apparate? I don't think I could stand this every day."

"No, Apparating is much smoother," he answered. "I wouldn't want to use a Portkey all the time, either."

We were standing in a flower-filled garden outside a picturesque country cottage that belonged to his Macmillan grandparents. Mack led me to a large tent for a cold drink before starting to introduce me to all of his relatives. There were at least a hundred guests, ranging from babes in arms to the truly ancient. I desperately wished for name-tags because there was no way I would be able to remember everyone.

As we circled through the party, it seemed like we kept repeating the same conversation over and over, with only minor variations for the age and gender of the relation concerned...

"Well, isn't this Belinda's boy? Little Mackie? Not so little any more, eh? How old are you now, lad? Twenty?"

I stifled my snigger at the nickname while Mack tried mightily to avoid rolling his eyes. "No sir, I'm twenty-five, and I've worked at the Ministry for seven years now. Uncle Horace, I'd like you to meet Liz, my fi-, um, wife." After only ten days, the new title was still a novelty to both of us. "Liz, this is Mum's Great-Uncle Horace."

"Ah, newlyweds are you?" Uncle Horace gave Mack a suggestive nudge and then turned to me. "Nice to meet you. Did you two meet at Hogwarts?"

"No, I didn't go to school there. I..."

"Oh ho! One of those Beauxbatons girls?" Another nudge. He belatedly held out his hand to shake mine.

"No. I'm not a witch. We met in London where I'm an accountant." This response of mine was invariably followed by blinks of surprise and a short pause while the questioner re-arranged his thoughts.

"I never would have guessed. How you Muggles get along without magic is a mystery to me." He gave my arm a friendly pat with his left hand and smiled. "Now Mackie, you take good care of her. Welcome to the family, my dear."

After going through this multiple times, I toyed with the idea of making up some absurd lie, just to see if I could provoke a different reaction. I couldn't complain too much, however, because everyone was very kind, and few asked questions about Muggle gadgets and society. I even found myself promising to help Mack's teenage cousin with his Muggle Studies homework, if necessary.

Mingling with strangers has never been my strong suit, so I was relieved to see Rob and Cassandra's familiar faces. I was puzzled about their presence until Cassandra explained that she and Mack were third cousins. "All of the old families are inter-related. It's a wonder that more of us aren't touched in the head."

Chatting with them about the wedding and our trip, I concluded that except for the clothes and some unusual food items, wizard parties weren't much different from ones I was used to. Of course, my theory was blown to bits the moment the children's broom race started. After a round of games, we all toasted the guest of honor, and then Mack's mum formally announced our marriage to the entire family, causing me to blush with embarrassment. On the whole, however, I had a good time.

Hours later, I grew tired and looked around to ask Mack whether we could leave. At this moment, during one of those odd lulls in the conversation noise level, the voice of Mack's young cousin Ernie (or was it Bernie?) carried through the crowd. I had met him briefly and gathered that he had just arrived from the Hogwarts train. "Yes, that's right. Professor Dumbledore says that You-Know-Who's back and that he murdered Cedric."

Everyone around me immediately froze, and I heard some muffled screams and the crashes of dropped glasses. Then everyone started talking at once. "Did you hear that, Grandmother?" "Why hasn't the Ministry said anything?" "Do you think it's true?" "I don't want to believe it."

In the confusion, Mack touched my elbow and held out our Portkey. "I think it's time to go home. I want to go into the office first thing in the morning to check this out."

In the seconds before we departed, I looked around at everyone's frightened faces and thought (not for the first time), What on earth have I gotten myself into?