The conversation continued in this way as the evening deepened—thoughtful discussion of the future mixed with lighter reminiscences and gentle teasing.
Adrian found himself genuinely enjoying the company, the sense of community with people who had fought alongside him and who understood what they'd all been through together.
As the sun finally set and the enchanted lights throughout the garden began glowing more brightly, someone started music.
Adrian wasn't sure who had cast the charm or what instrument was producing the sound, but gentle music began flowing through the garden—traditional wizarding melodies that had probably been played at celebrations for centuries.
A few couples began dancing on the makeshift platform that had been erected earlier. Bill Weasley swept Fleur into an elegant waltz.
Around them, other couples joined: some elegant, some laughing at their own missteps, one pair moving with such enthusiasm that they kept nearly colliding with the Weasley twins, who had found some rhythm of their own at the edge of the platform.
Adrian watched this for a while, feeling oddly separate from the scene despite being physically present.
This kind of celebration, this easy social mixing and dancing and romantic partnering, had never been something he was particularly comfortable with. He appreciated it aesthetically and was glad to see others enjoying themselves, but participating directly felt distant to his nature.
He was still turning this thought over when a voice spoke beside him.
"You look contemplative."
Adrian turned to find Hermione had approached while he was lost in thought. She settled into the chair that Kingsley had vacated when he'd gone to get more drinks, her expression was thoughtful as she also watched the dancers.
"Just thinking," Adrian confirmed. "About how much has changed in a year, and about what comes next."
"Are you worried about teaching again?" Hermione asked perceptively. "I've heard some things over the summer about political movements that are causing problems. My parents don't follow wizarding politics closely, but even they've noticed tensions when they read my copies of the Daily Prophet."
Adrian was impressed by her awareness and her willingness to engage with complex political issues. Most students her age would have been content to celebrate the end of the war and leave the complexities of what came after to the adults.
"There are challenges ahead," he said carefully, choosing honesty over reassurance. "Some people aren't happy about the direction wizarding society might take now that Voldemort's forced hierarchy is gone. They're working to resist change and shore up the traditional power structures that existed before him."
"You mean blood purity advocates," Hermione said, without any particular inflection. "People who think Muggle-borns and half-bloods shouldn't have equal status with pure-bloods, and who dress up their bigotry in the language of tradition and heritage."
"That's a fairly accurate summary, yes," Adrian said, somewhat amused by her directness.
"They'll target you," Hermione said with certainty. "You're a half-blood who defeated Voldemort. You represent precisely everything they find threatening—someone who gained power and influence through merit instead of lineage. That's almost more offensive to them than anything else."
"You've given this a great deal of thought," Adrian observed.
"I've had to." Hermione said quietly. "Being Muggle-born means you're never allowed to stop thinking about it. I've spent six years watching pure-blood supremacists look at me and people like me as though we're guests at a table we weren't invited to sit at. Now that Voldemort's gone, I'm watching carefully to see whether anything actually changes, or whether the same attitudes just learn better manners."
"What do you think will happen?" Adrian asked, wanting to know her thoughts.
She was quiet for a moment, watching Bill and Fleur complete a slow turn at the edge of the platform.
"I think there will be a fight," she said at last. "Not a war—not with wands and curses. A political fight. A social one. The kind that doesn't end in a year or even in a decade, and the kind that's much harder to see clearly because there's no single obvious enemy to defeat."
She paused for a moment. "The people who benefited from the old order aren't going to surrender their advantages because it's the right thing to do, and people like me who want real equality will have to push for it constantly. It's going to be exhausting and frustrating and it will probably take decades to accomplish meaningful change."
"That's a remarkably mature analysis," Adrian said.
"I've been reading," she said, a little self-consciously. "About social movements. Muggle ones and wizarding ones both. Civil rights, suffrage movements, labor organizing. They all follow similar patterns—initial optimism after a victory, followed by backlash from those who oppose change, followed by long, difficult work to consolidate gains and push for further progress. We're entering the backlash phase now."
"Probably so," Adrian agreed. "Which means the next few years will be complicated."
"Will you stay?" Hermione asked directly. "At Hogwarts, I mean. If they try to force you out, will you fight to keep your position?"
"Yes," Adrian said without hesitation. "I won't make it easy for bigots to remove teachers who don't fit their narrow definitions of acceptable. If I leave without fighting, it makes their next target easier to remove."
"Good," Hermione said with satisfaction. "Because Harry and Ron and I plan to support you, and it would be rather anticlimactic if you left before we could demonstrate that support properly."
Adrian smiled at this statement. "I appreciate that. Though I hope none of you put yourselves at risk on my behalf. You're students, not political activists."
"We're both," Hermione corrected firmly. "Being a student doesn't mean we can't also stand up for what's right. And frankly, after everything we went through last year, dealing with political controversy seems relatively manageable."
She stood, smoothing the front of her dress with the unhurried efficiency of someone who has already moved on to her next thought.
She stood up, smoothing her dress. "I should get back to Ron before he eats all the treacle tart. But I wanted you to know that you have allies, Professor Westeros. More than you probably realize."
She walked away before Adrian could formulate a response to that touching declaration of support, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.
The celebration continued well into the night, though it gradually wound down as guests began departing.
Families with small children slipped away first, children carried half-asleep over shoulders. Then came the ones with early obligations, departing with handshakes and quiet promises to write. The last to remain were the Order members and the core of the Weasley family.
Adrian stayed until nearly midnight, participating in conversations and watching this community that had fought together and was now learning to exist in peacetime together.
There were the laughter and the occasional tears when someone mentioned a lost friend, the toasts to absent companions, the determination to celebrate survival while also honoring those who hadn't survived to see this peace.
When Adrian finally prepared to depart, Mrs. Weasley insisted on sending him home with enough leftover food to feed him for a week, despite his protests that he had a house-elf who cooked quite well.
She packed everything carefully into containers that she pressed into his hands with firm instructions to return them next time he visited, which Adrian recognized as her way of ensuring he would visit again.
"Thank you for coming," she said warmly, and the fierceness of the brief hug she gave him communicated more than the words. "It meant a great deal to have you here. You're always welcome at the Burrow, Adrian. Always."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Adrian said, moved by her kindness. "For the invitation, for the food, and for making me feel welcome in your home."
He said his goodbyes to the others who remained—receiving a firm handshake from Arthur, a shoulder clap from Sirius, a warm smile from Remus, and enthusiastic waves from Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Then he Disapparated from the designated departure point, containers of food clutched carefully in his arms, and returned to the quiet sanctuary of his plantation.
The contrast between the lively celebration and the peaceful silence of the plantation was obvious but not unwelcome.
Adrian set the food containers down carefully, checked on a few of the creatures who were still awake and active at this late hour, and then stood beneath the Tree of Wisdom for a moment.
Whatever challenges awaited at Hogwarts, whatever political battles needed fighting, Adrian wouldn't face them alone. He had his own strengths, and a community of allies who would stand with him.
The Burrow celebration had reminded him of that. For all the solitary work he did at the plantation, for all his natural inclination toward isolation and focused research, he was also part of something larger.
And he was a teacher with students depending on him, colleagues supporting him, and a purpose that gave his life meaning beyond mere survival.
The war was over. The celebration had been joyful and bittersweet in equal measure. And tomorrow, Adrian would continue preparing for the challenges ahead with determination and the knowledge that he wasn't facing them alone.
Peace was more complicated than war in many ways, but it was also infinitely more valuable. And Adrian would do his part to protect it and to help build something better from the foundation that so many had fought and died to secure.
With that thought settled comfortably in his mind, Adrian finally went inside to rest, the containers of Mrs. Weasley's cooking sitting on his table like a reminder that he was cared for and supported by people who valued him not for his power or his fame, but simply for who he was.
It was a good feeling to carry into the challenges ahead.
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