Had Mary Urquart done this, Roslyn wondered—had she gone about business as usual as she waited to find out if her life was about to become irrevocably changed? It seemed almost surreal to breakfasting in bed, a moment of quiet after the energy of the day before, and yet here she was—physically, at least. Mentally, Roslyn was off somewhere else, thinking of each and every ballot that had had to be counted, the little ticks beside her husband’s name. Today they would find out if his campaign had been a success, if he would become one of the most powerful wizards in Britain, politically speaking at least.

The knock was followed almost immediately by her husband’s entrance, an action the closeness of their marriage excused even under perfectly ordinary circumstances. The look on his face, though, was enough to impress upon her that these were not ordinary circumstances, and her mouth hung ever so slightly ajar in bewilderment at the announcement.

“Congratulations,” she offered warmly after a beat, smiling in spite of her misgivings about the whole situation. How could she not be happy when her husband was clearly so elated? “I am so very proud of you, my love. Did the Ministry send an owl?”