Thomas Magnus Prins sat in the conference room adjacent to his office, listening to the latest reports the heads of his various departments were giving him. His assistant Stasia was on the other side of the door, waiting for a signal from him to end the meeting with an "emergency" as they were nearing the time the meeting was scheduled to end. Going on forty years, she'd been loyal and stuck with him despite, he was sure, other opportunities in the Ministry that wouldn't have been an assistant.

He had been zoning out at the tiresome and tedious comments that bordered on gossip rather than legitimate business, as was typical of meetings reaching their end. Until he heard his mum's name mentioned. How in the hell had his mother gotten to be part of the conversation?

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" he said, dark eyes assessing the man who'd brought his mother up.

"No offense, Sir," Andor said, sounding very much as if he did mean to be offensive. "I know that she's your mother, but don't you think it's about time that she retire?"

"Why? She's a librarian, what could she possibly have done that you think she should retire?"

"Nothing. She's been the librarian for pretty much every single one of us in this room. That's just my point. It's time for someone younger."

"I assure you that Marie Prins ensures that the Hogwarts library is as cutting edge as it can possibly be. She may be a great great grandmother, but she is still very aware of what lessons are being taught and what each and every child might require from her shelves to succeed. In fact, I'd say being a great great grandmother goes toward her being right for the position. She would certainly go above and beyond to ensure all children, including her grandchildren, have what they need to succeed. In classes and in life. She trades and barters with other schools to ensure students who might require a text that is not obtainable otherwise have access to it. You say just about every one of us has had her as their librarian. How many of us has she assisted above and beyond just finding a book? How many of us has she sat with to read over our Charms or Transfiguration paper for us? How many of us has she encouraged to pursue our strengths? How many students has she coached on options post-Hogwarts? Her tutoring sessions are still to capacity nearly seventy years later. She has single handedly taught myself and my siblings, as well as our children. I can assure you that none of us thought our education was lacking or sub par compared to our classmates upon arriving at Hogwarts. My parents' dedication to education for the entirety of my life is second to none. Now if you have some proof of dereliction of duties then, by all means, present them. Otherwise, it seems we have no further legitimate business today. Time to retire, indeed. That library. That school will not be the same once she is gone!"

"She encourages muggle books, Minister."

Thomas rolled his eyes. Of course, muggle this or that had to come into the conversation.

It had been about ten years since he'd heard something along the lines of this argument. He supposed it was time for it again. He sighed heavily. Merlin. Why did people cling to the pureblood beliefs?

"I suppose you've never read Shakespeare, Andor," he spat. "Or Chekhov. Or Moliere. Good grief, it's literature. They are not the enemy. Merlin, I'd really thought that miseducation about them being lesser or inferior had gone by the wayside. Wishful thinking, I guess."

"I do not want my children …"

"Then tell them not to check the books out. She's not making anyone read them. I have siblings that were muggleborn, Andor! We have had many pureblood students go out to the muggle world and become very productive members of their society. Part of that success is due to having access to things like muggle literature that is available in the library, so they don't look completely clueless when they get there. One of my fondest memories is of going to American muggle baseball games with my family. There were no wands involved, there was no one flying around on a broom, but to me as a child it was quite magical. I still have the signed scorecard I got when I was about five in a box somewhere. When I told my muggle sister-in-law's parents about a particular World Series game they were very impressed I'd seen it, and the players, in person. I am trying to ensure our world can sustain itself. We cannot be an island and expect to thrive. We must work together to ensure that everyone's future is the best it can be. Why would we want the muggle world to fail? I remember World War II. I remember the Depression. Those things affected all beings, not just muggle."

The other wizard huffed but closed his mouth. Thomas knew it was an uphill battle. An ongoing battle. His father had taught him less was more when it came to this, to lead by example not by trying to talk people into changing their minds. He wouldn't change their minds, no matter what he said. He didn't bring the subject up unless it was, as in today's case. He always tried to lead by example, though. He always believed actions spoke louder than words, on something like this anyway.

There were still some who believed firmly in blood purity, never mind that it just wasn't feasible any longer. Sure, those of Sacred Twenty-Eight lineage could continue to reproduce amongst themselves, but they were going to encounter problems sooner rather than later. Failing to produce more than one or two children was just the beginning, in Thomas' opinion. (The Weasleys seemed to be the rare exception these days.)

Squibs were the least of their concerns, as birth defects started to become an issue from their bloodlines being so intermingled. He was certain that no one else in this room had done so, but he had read the muggle texts about inbreeding. He and his parents had quite a few discussions on the topic over the years, when he was trying to figure out how to toe the line of being the Minister for Magic but not shun or discredit muggle contributions.

He didn't understand it.

He liked his sister-in-law, Lisa. His brother, Philip, with his muggle leanings, was probably richer than most anyone in this room: monetarily. He'd say mentally as well. Few would know what his brother had done, the songs played on muggle rock ‘n roll radio stations for the past thirty or so years that he'd written. Around the world! Even if they did know the songs, his name wasn't said with the bands who performed them. That wasn't why he wrote them, for fame. He loved writing, and was good at it.

He considered his foster siblings his brothers just as much as Philip, Graham, and Willem. They weren't incapable or lesser wizards because their parents weren't magical. They didn't get their magic at the cost of anyone magical losing or not getting theirs either. Some still believed that was the case!

He sighed.

He truly thought his approach was good and sound, and would allow people to see that muggles were not bad or backward people. He knew people like Andor existed, and more than a few were still firmly entrenched in those beliefs. Some wouldn't speak of those beliefs aloud as Andor had either. He thought that there were less of them, to the point they wouldn't speak of it so freely.

Maybe he was mistaken.

Obviously, he must be.

Or maybe Andor was just having a bad day.

He supposed he'd never truly know. People like Andor weren't going to sit and have a rational, logical, and objective conversation with him about blood purity.

He'd meant what he said, too, about Hogwarts' library not being the same once his mum did retire. He honestly couldn't imagine it without his mum there, because she cared. About the students. About learning. About the books. Obviously, he knew she would retire likely sooner rather than later given her age. And the fact he knew his father was ready to do more with his spare time.

He didn't think her being his mum made him too biased. He'd seen over the years the difference and influence she had on countless students. That wasn't his imagination.

The meeting finished without further conflict, or a vote to force his mum to retire. He told Stasia he'd be unavailable for a bit, then stepped into his office fireplace and flooed to Albus' office at Hogwarts.

"Minister," Albus said politely, looking up from something he'd been writing at his desk.

The headmaster had a curious look in his eyes, clearly not expecting a visitor at the moment. Certainly, he was not expecting the Minister for Magic to show up in his office unannounced. He'd left the meeting needing to come here, though.

"Uncle Albus," he said with a smile.

Albus returned the smile then, peering at Thomas over his glasses. And it was his Uncle Albus smile, not his Headmaster Dumbledore smile. There was a difference. Those who thought because he'd known the Minister for Magic since he was born, Albus would go easy on the man when it came to negotiations were mistaken.

Genuine smile or not, he was still obviously curious as to this unexpected visit.

"Ah, a personal visit then," he said, his eyes twinkling in that way only Uncle Albus' eyes did.

"Yes," he said, feeling like a little boy again for a moment. Needing … approval. "You are well?"

"It's kind of you to ask, Thomas. I'm certain I'm not who you came to see today, but, yes, I am. There's always something to tend to. I'm sure you can empathize."

"I can," he said with a knowing nod. There were some days there were more things than he knew what to do with. "Are my parents around?"

"I am sure they are here somewhere, yes. You know their usual haunts, probably better than I do. Is everything all right, Son?"

"Yes, Sir, just have the urge to see Mum."

"Ah. Well, far be it from me to stand between a son and his mother. Go on then," he said with a smile. "And Thomas," he said.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Be sure you tell her that you wanted to see her, and that you love her. Mums like to hear that, no matter how old they or their sons might be. From my understanding anyway."

Tom blushed then. Imagine being nearly seventy years old and being made to blush.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. You do love her, don't you?"

"Of course."

He was pretty sure he'd lay down his life for his mum, even today. He didn't know the whole of it, but he knew the things she'd done throughout his life. To help, not just him and his siblings, but others as well.

"Then tell her that, Son. Whatever brought you here, and I presume there was a catalyst that led to you wanting to come here today. Well, know that Mums have bad days, too. They also like knowing that they are still needed as a son needs his mother. Even when those sons are the Minister for Magic and nearly seventy years old."

He left the headmaster's office then, making his way to the library. His mother's usual haunt. His father would likely be in their quarters. Or in his lab on their home's grounds if he wasn't here. He hadn't been a student here in fifty years, but he still remembered the way without issue. He'd lived here, called Hogwarts home, for just about the first twenty years of his life. He was pretty sure, other than his father, he still knew the dungeons better than anyone. He saw the look of envy on many a witch and wizard's face over the years when he'd spoken of growing up here, of knowing it so much more intimately than a student truly had the opportunity to do.

As a student here, your days were pretty full. There was time to explore, sure, but not all day Saturday and Sunday as he'd been able to do as a boy. His parents never seemed to come after any of them either. They knew they were just a patronus away, and the ghosts would never let them get lost. So long as they stayed out of the off limits areas, his parents let them roam to their hearts' delight.

The soft gasps that emitted from the students in the library when he entered made him chuckle. He didn't come to the library to see his mother often. Not during the work day, at any rate. He held his finger up to his mouth.

"You're going to get me in trouble for disrupting if you're too loud," he said. This was responded to by more than one peel of soft laughter.

"What in the world is going on out here," his mum said and then stopped when she saw him.

Her eyes brightened in a way that they only seemed to do for him.

Like she was so proud of him that she could burst.

Like she still, to this day, loved him unconditionally, and would do anything for him.

It was different from the look she gave his dad, of course, but it was different too than the one Char, Phil, Graham, Will, or the Harrison kids received from her. He'd watched over the years, thinking he was imagining things. He presumed it was because he was her oldest. Those looks always made him feel as if he could accomplish anything.

Anything.

He wasn't too proud to realize it was those looks that got him to be Minister for Magic. She'd always let him know that he could do anything.

Anything.

He wasn't stupid enough to deny that without those looks, that undaunting and unwavering support, he would not be where he was. His dad was supportive, too, no question about it. It was different, though. He was not as … open about telling him how he felt about what he could accomplish and do when he'd been a child. His father's way of telling him had been through actions. Letting him assist him. Never telling him that he couldn't accomplish something.

He couldn't recall how many conversations he'd had with his mother growing up about different occupations or hobbies that interested him. He was quite certain if he'd been born in the sixties, astronaut would have been tops of the list for quite a while. She never laughed at any of them, though looking back now some were just ridiculous. (He wasn't meant to be a dancer, but he'd seen a Fred Astaire movie with his mum when he was a boy, and sure did want to be one for a while afterward.)

It'd been a while since he'd seen her. Oh they exchanged owls and talked via floo. Dinners or lunches were always a possibility, but being the Minister was a day-in and day-out job. And dinners and lunches were usually with others along.

"Hello, Thomas," she said.

She was politely stoic as their respective positions called for, but she couldn't hide her joy at his presence from her eyes. She never could. Seventy years or two years, it didn't matter. She was home. She always would be for him. It was a different feeling than the one he had for and with Millie. He'd earned Millie's affections (he still wasn't altogether sure how to this day).

He knew his parents hadn't planned on having him when they did. The fact Char was almost six and a half years younger than him pointed to that, though he was sure the economy played a role in when they tried for her as well. So, the fact that his mother had never looked at him with regret that he'd come as fast as he had. Or that she regretted the fact she'd even had him. Well, he just knew that there was something about their bond, their relationship that was … different. He'd say special, but that wasn't it. He didn't think he was any more special or loved than his siblings. There was just an underlying … feeling there that he didn't have with anyone else.

"Mum," he said.

"Is everything okay? Millie? The children? Phoebe?"

"Everyone's fine. Phoebe and the baby are fine. She's not due for a few weeks yet. I just realized that I hadn't seen my mum in a while," he said.

"Oh, well, come on into my office. I was just about to have some tea."

He nodded then, heading in the direction his first classroom had been. He'd loved being taught by her. Well, sometimes he'd hated it, but he doubted he'd be human if he didn't feel that way. She was good at it, enthusiastic, and so smart. What was more, she had first hand knowledge as to his capabilities, so knew when he was goofing off versus genuinely having an issue.

The sheer audacity of Andor suggesting his mum didn't know what she was doing, or was too old to continue performing her duties.  He'd sat in many of her tutoring sessions as a child, too. There were times he thought she was smarter than the professors. He never said so. His mother (or father) would never acknowledge that as fact anyway, so there was no point in it. She'd prepared him for so much in life really, and those lessons hadn't all occurred in the classroom. Some had been at their home. Some had been while they'd been traveling.

"What's wrong?" she asked once they were seated and had prepared their tea. He'd question her not being concerned about misbehaving students, but they'd have to be pretty stupid to do something with the Minister for Magic right here.

He shrugged. "I just," he sighed. He stared at his teacup, running a finger along the tabletop beside the saucer the cup rested on. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to come out of this visit. "How did you and Dad do it?"

"You have to be more specific than that, Thomas."

"You have never given into the pureblood rhetoric. I can't remember once, even when I was small, either of you ever thinking that way, or trying to teach me anything other than acceptance. Yet you've remained well-respected and regarded."

"Well, we didn't talk about our beliefs while we were working. We exposed you children to many things that I know others haven't had the chance to see. We took in the Harrisons, and your father and I believe we treated them more than fairly. You children actually did the talking for us, by telling your friends about this or that. You let your peers know that muggles were not lesser than. You accepted Cole, Jack, Ben, and Randall and treated them as you did your other siblings. They see you treat their children the same as you treat your other nieces and nephews. There is always going to be prejudice, Thomas. It's not exclusive to the magical world either. All you can do is lead by example," she set a hand over his. "You are such a strong man. You are one of the most powerful wizards I know, and I don't say that lightly or to stroke your ego. You know I wouldn't say something I don't believe. It is the truth. We knew from the moment you were born, and we are so proud of you. We had some hard times, some might have taken those experiences and grown bitter or selfish. Don't let anyone make you feel as if you're in the wrong on this. The Statute is necessary, but that doesn't mean that we can't coexist."

"I don't. I just, I had someone today talking about having you dismissed because you carry muggle literature."

"There has always been muggle literature here."

In addition to the muggle literature, she had always stocked information from various universities, as well as magical schools that might be interested in doing an exchange program. These were kept on hand so that students could page through them to see what was available post-Hogwarts if a life as a Ministry cog didn't hold appeal. The exchange programs, which hadn't really taken off until the seventies, exposed children to other cultures and areas to see if remaining in Britain was even what they wanted.

She always answered their questions about what an area of study was. He knew, too, that with parental permission she'd taken more than one student over the years for a tour of the university they were eyeing. She wasn't steering them toward muggle employment, but some people wanted to make an educated decision. Or were at least curious enough to look.

Sadly, unless one wanted to work for the Ministry, St. Mungo's, or Gringotts well, there weren't a lot of good jobs. (This was something he was currently working on fixing, but he was getting some pushback at the idea of "new" jobs coming to the magical world.) And with magical people living as long as they tended to. Room for advancement could feel stagnant when someone only ten years older than you had a position you coveted. Forty to fifty years old for muggles could be a difference in retirement where magical, that could be barely midlife.

How anyone could view that as bad or evil, Thomas just didn't understand! He supposed it was as simple as he was raised not to think that. He was shown through trips and things that being magical was not superior. Being magical was a gift.

"I know," he said with a shake of his head.

He only knew that because of his mother's passion for not just this library but Hogwarts as a whole. She and her father loved this place.

So much so that, as a child, he'd wondered more than once if he was second best to a castle. 

Then they'd go home, and he'd see, maybe not the same love but, a very similar love for their permanent domicile and realize that they just truly loved who and where they were, as well as what they'd created.

They loved their home. They loved eating a fish caught from their pond. He couldn't count how many of the shore lunches (or dinners) he'd eaten over the years. He knew it was not his father's favourite way of preparing fish and eating a meal, but he did it for every child, grandchild, and great grandchild after Thomas at least once. He expected Toby, their only great great grandchild to this point would get that experience one day, too. Thomas was fairly certain he was one of a few who knew his dad didn't care for it. The labour that went into it, not the meal itself.

They loved magic.

And they loved that Hogwarts was the gateway to so many learning about it. And they wanted everyone to learn as much as they could. About everything. He and his father had had some discussions about things over the years that he knew bordered on dark, but he and his father both believed someone had to stay abreast of such things so that another Grindlewald didn't come to pass.

More than that, though, as the years went on and he watched them.

They loved what they'd built and forged together against the negativity and lack of support from anyone.

They came here alone and built a life because their families didn't support them. No one had ever been told what the bad blood between their families was, and it was irrelevant all of these years later. He could only assume they didn't want to speak ill of their respective parents, not wanting their children to hate or dislike people they'd never even met.

That lack of support, no doubt, led to them treating their own children very differently.

Philip's desire to write for muggle musicians and marry one? No problem. His parents had, in fact, gotten him an autograph by one of the bands back in the sixties he'd wanted to sell songs to.

It had been speculated recently that his daughter's youngest, Meredith, may prefer the company of witches to wizards. He'd sought counsel from his father on this, not knowing how to approach the subject. Or even whether he needed to. He was the Minister for Magic. What stance should he take?

"Love is love," his father had said . "And Meredith's may take a different form than yours or mine did. That does not negate that it is love to her and to whoever might choose to love her in return. Would you counsel any of your other grandchildren on their love life unsolicited at this age?"

He'd vowed there and then to support his granddaughter, no matter what. She was in her fourth year and he knew that a lot could be misconstrued and happen during the teen years. He also knew times were very different now from when he and Millie had been teenagers.

Marrying Millie, who he'd met his first year on the Express before he'd even gotten to Hogwarts, was less common these days than it had been for them. Maybe she'd come home with a witch one day. Maybe she wouldn't. Really, it was most important to him she led a happy life than a comformative life to someone else's ideals. And know that she was loved.

"Do I still have a job?" she asked. The question was a bit cheeky, but he guessed there was some doubt mixed in there, too.

"Of course you do. They have nothing more than fear that you're teaching children that what they're taught at home may not be entirely accurate."

"Mm," his mum said.

"If I've never said it, thank you."

"Good grief, you're starting to scare me now, Thomas. For what?"

"Everything. I know it wasn't easy. I know you didn't marry Dad expecting to get pregnant with me right away and have to farm and do those things during a depression. You never made me feel anything but wanted. Even when others had to go without, I never did and you saw to it that others didn't either. Always discreetly. It took me years to figure it out."

"Of course you were wanted, Thomas. So very much. You have no idea how much you are loved. How much you belong to this world. What we did to have you."

"Why didn't you ever teach?"

"I taught plenty. I taught all five of you. Plus Benedict and Randall. I taught your children, too, in that room right over there, in case you're getting too old or big for your britches to forget."

"You know what I'm asking."

"I had my job, Thomas. Your father had his. It worked very well for us, and truthfully, I could have done far worse with my life than surround myself with books, and students who want to study. Students who want to be here, or in your father's classroom, because they knew I could help them. If I've helped some of them over the years understand their Charms or Runes homework better, or determine what they wanted to do with their lives after Hogwarts," she shrugged. "I go home to your father every night, whom I still love more than anything. I won't say that there haven't been days I've wondered if this was all there was, but that wasn't your father's fault. Or any of you childrens' fault. I find that fulfilling. I saw my children and still see my grandchildren and great grandchildren every day. That means so much to me. Your father, too. We built this family, and to see it thriving means so much to us. I get to listen to them tell me about every subject. I get to watch them grow and catch hints as to what they will become. We've traveled and seen things that I could never have dreamt of experiencing. I consider that a life well lived. Could I have done something else? Something more? Something better?" She shrugged. "I suppose I could have, but I did the best I could with what I did do."

He stood then, kissing her cheek. "Thank you for the tea. Tea with my mum was exactly what I needed today."

"Thank you for the visit."

"I'm sorry I have to have tea and run, but I left rather suddenly. Stasia will fret if I'm too late for my next appointment. Tell Father hello."

"I will, he'll be sorry that he missed you."

"Where is he?"

She smiled slightly. "He, Professor Snape, and a student Severus has taken on as somewhat of an assistant are in the Forbidden Forest this afternoon."

"Really?" he asked. That was surprising.

"Yes."

"Well," he said.

Professor Snape, while an exceptional potioner and professor from what he'd heard, wasn't prone to … tutoring students. He was very much of the sink or swim mentality from what he'd heard over the years. No less exacting than his father had been when teaching the subject.

"He must be a very good student."

"She is," his mum said.

"A she?" he asked, surprised at that. His mother's nod was all the response he needed.

A female taking an interest in potions wasn't completely unusual, but enough to work with Professor Snape on a one-on-one basis. Well, that was. He wasn't the … friendliest of teachers he'd heard from various nieces and nephews since he'd taken over the position from his father.

"Good for her. Well, I hope they find whatever they're looking for."

"Me, too, or it'll be a very cold excursion for nothing. It'll be a toss up between your father and Severus as far as whose mood is fouler, too."

Thomas chuckled. He'd seen both of them in foul moods to know his mum wasn't wrong.

It was odd, there were times over the years when Thomas thought Professor Snape was more like his father than any of his children. He saw many similarities between them. Even their looks were very similar. It had made him wonder more than once if the Prinses and the Princes were related in some way. It wouldn't surprise him, and it would explain why his father was somewhat friendly with Professor Snape's mother these days. A curiosity that he might have liked to pursue in his youth. Now, he just didn't have the time or patience to do the work. Perhaps one of his grandchildren would take on the task of finding out where they came from.

"See you at Christmas."

"Of course. You know where we'll be."

He smiled at that.

He did.

Like clockwork.

His parents rarely strayed from their routine and the stability that all of their children and grandchildren had come to rely on. As his foster brothers got married and had children and grandchildren of their own, they didn't rely quite as much on Thomas' mum and dad. They still came around on holidays, but they tended to go to their in-laws first and then to Mum and Dad's last. He wasn't sure why. He'd asked once, but Cole sort of gave an evasive answer. Thomas knew that the five of them were very fortunate that all of their spouses and their kids' spouses just took it as a given for Easter and Christmas they'd be at the Prins' home and planned around that.

It was one of the things he loved about them. Despite their job as parents technically having been done since the early sixties, they did not think that meant they were footloose and fancy free to do as they pleased. Not completely anyway. They were still available, to all of them, for dinners or discussions. He liked how hands on and involved they chose to be. Without being overbearing or smothering.

Summers were a different story. Trips and excursions could be planned at the drop of a hat. Sometimes the older children and grandchildren couldn't get away on a moment's notice, but his parents would take whoever could go, and they always came home with stories to tell of things they'd seen and done. Not that the grandchildren ever got bored just spending time at Grandma and Grandpa's house. All kids had different stories to tell, too, so rarely did one of the grandchildren or great grandchild feel excluded when they couldn't go and someone else did.

"If you could do anything you wanted for Christmas, Mum, what would you do?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I'd do exactly what I do every year, Thomas."

"No, if we kids decided to do something else, like the Harrisons do these days, and it was just you and Dad."

"Mm, I don't know. I guess that's never been a possibility, so I've never even thought about it. Why? Are you all planning on joining forces in abandoning your father and me all of the sudden?"

He'd be hard-pressed to do that. The small children, especially, loved the house.

"No. Just wondering. I guess I've never asked."

"Nor should you. We choose to spend Christmas and Easter with all of you every year. We have every other day to do other things if we want to and we do, Thomas. Your father and I may not tell you about every single thing that we do, but trust me, we are not stuck in this castle all day, every day. We have made many memories together over the years."

She walked up to him then, reaching up to settle her hand against his cheek. She smiled at him, and it was a smile that made it all the way to her eyes. There were crow's feet there now that weren't there when he was a boy. One thing he loved about his mum was that while she was attractive, she was not vain and did not hide the effects growing older had on her. She was confident and self-assured with grey hair and some wrinkles just as she had been without them. He thought that was important for so many to see.

"I don't regret a single moment of my life or any choices I have made in it, Thomas. I personally consider Erik and myself the richest couple in the world because of you. All of you. You, though, Thomas, closing in on seventy or not, will always be my baby. If I haven't said it lately, or often enough. I love you and am so proud of you. So so very proud of all that you have done and will still do."

He nodded then, standing to his full height, reaching down to kiss her temple. "I love you, too, Mother," he whispered, knowing he sounded gruffer than he meant, but her words just now had really hit him hard today after listening to people talk about his mum. As Minister for Magic he couldn't defend her as she deserved.

He stopped and said hi to a few of the students after leaving her office before taking his leave. He glanced around before leaving the library. Tables full of students doing their work. They came here because they knew his mum wasn't a shrew of a woman who would yell at them for taking a few minutes to talk. She always had run the library in that way, because she didn't want anyone to think a library was anything but a place rich in all sorts of resources for all to enjoy.

He wasn't sure that seeing his mum actually helped, but it did make him feel better. His dad had told him many times over the years that being Minister for Magic would be a tedious, stressful, and lonely job which would require him to work with and listen to a lot of dunderheads.

He wasn't wrong.

Then his dad was rarely wrong Thomas had come to find over the years.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com