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"Magic," Fitzwilliam Darcy replied stoically as he looked at his wife of twelve years.
"Yes. You see it runs in the family, although it hasn't manifested since my grandmother's generation," Elizabeth explained. Her husband was taking this rather well, she thought, considering that their son's letter inviting him to attend a special school in Scotland must be a surprise. Elizabeth had suspected a time or two over the years that Bennet might have enough magic to warrant attending Hogwarts once he reached one-and-ten, something he would do in two days. "I know this must come as a surprise--"
"No," Darcy interrupted, something he rarely did, careful to always fully take in everything his wife had to say. It was a cornerstone to the success of his second chance with the love of his life. However this time, he knew he needed to replicate his wife's open bravery in recognizing the situation their family found themselves in. "No, it does not come as much of a surprise. You see, the D'Arcy clan were known for their magical prowess, as well as their prowess in battle, back when my ancestor accompanied William the Conqueror. When he married and settled here in England, his daughters and second son attended Hogwarts instead of being sent abroad to attend Beauxbatons."
"Oh," Elizabeth let out the breath she'd been holding. "Your family has attended Hogwarts since not long after the founding." She wasn't sure why she was surprised by that. She had known the branch of his family which settled England took part in the Norman Conquest.
"Until the magic fell away," he replied. "There has not been a magical Darcy since the last was lost during the War of the Roses. I am unclear whether or not any of the women who married out of the Darcy family have birthed magical children since the records stopped being kept after the Statute of Secrecy was invoked."
Elizabeth nodded. "It is similar for our line. It has been oral tradition only since well before the Church of England. It would have been difficult for my less prosperous ancestors to hide evidence of magic in the family. Then it began slipping away. The knowledge of it has only been passed to those of us who have sparks of it or can sense it." It was far safer that way. She had completely agreed with her grandmother's worry on this point. Witchcraft and wizardry were dangerous subjects to explain to those without magic.
"Are you..." Darcy paused and reached for her. "Never mind. It matters not. What matters is our son."
"And most likely our younger children as well," she said with a small huff as she took her husband's hand. "They all seem to have something more than I." Elizabeth was not clear how much, or what type, it might be, only that she felt each of their brood may have a spark of something magical about them. "My grandmother did not think I would be classified as a Squib exactly. Just that I did not manifest enough magic to be invited to attend school. My powers, if they could even be classified such, appear related to nature and nurture. Growing things. Still room work. Nursing." Nothing overtly magical. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a country gentleman's daughter. Certainly not enough to be clearly identified as herbology, potions and healing, as her grandmother had called those gifts in private.
"Squib," Darcy made a face of distaste. "What a word." He would continue to think of himself and his wife as non-magical; it was far less derogatory sounding. However, he would not deny his son -- or any of their children -- the opportunity to be educated in magic. The D'Arcy and Darcy lines had been powerful wizards and witches. Having magic returned to the line was, he felt, a boon. And he had no doubt at all that it had returned due to his dear Elizabeth and her previously unknown magical connections.