𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 ——

{ cis male , he/him , 22 , nick robinson } during the trial of voldemort’s last major conspirators, harry potter was spotted. they work as an auror for the ministry. rumor has it they are altruistic + strong-willed, but i’ve heard they're rash + sarcastic. during the battle of hogwarts they fought for the order. when i think of them, i’m reminded of oversized shirts, a forest in the middle of the night, and the adrenaline rush of taking a risk. 

Harry’s looking out over the London skyline when Ginny joins him at the edge of the rooftop bar. At the other end, the Weird Sisters are playing and it’s the second time Harry’s seen them live, which naturally brings him back to the Yule Ball. Everything feels weirdly full circle lately.

“There you are,” Harry says in greeting, and he hands over a cigarette he’s halfway finished. He doesn’t typically smoke, but his head is buzzing with alcohol and he’d managed to bum one off someone when a sudden craving hit him. “Thought you’d be in full seduction mode by now. No takers?”

Out in the Burrow’s front garden, with snow blanketing the ground in a silent white sheet and draining the night of colour, with everything around them still and cold and sterile and the moon a bulbous, pockmarked face staring down at them from the sky, Harry feels tranquil. With Ginny sitting beside him on the steps, he feels safe. And with the rest of the Weasleys packed into the architectural miracle behind them, he feels at home.

“It’s always Christmas that I remember how fucking loud your family is when they all get together,” says Harry, grinning. It’s not a bad thing — on the contrary, it’s a sound he loves very much, because it sounds like family. A huge family. “Or maybe I’m just spending too much time by myself at home. To be fair, though, the cause is a good one. Finally beat Res Evil Seven on Madhouse. Hold your applause, I know I’m amazing.”

Colin’s lips twitches up in amusement in response to Harry’s words. Oddly enough, he didn’t not believe Harry. As much as Colin knows Harry hates being viewed as someone special or extraordinary because of his history, Colin thinks Harry is extraordinary because of his character. Perhaps, there is a little bias in those thoughts but as much things changed on Colin’s end, there was always that heightened respect that Colin had and has for the older boy that lingered from his own youth.  “You should become an entrepreneur. Create your own independent business dedicated to taking down the bad guys. Some might call that vigilantism,” Colin remarks solemnly, a hand rising up to grab the attention of the bartender while his eyes remain on Harry. “But I’d be a part of the business. I think you’d be great vigilante.“ 

Ernie never had a reason to hate Potter. If someone were to put him on the spot and ask him for a reason, even a simple one, Ernie would just have to shrug. He wasn’t going to lie and make up something to dislike Potter over, but he could never pinpoint why he disliked the guy. There wasn’t a transgression or incident that caused him to have this vendetta against him. If anything, he seemed like a great guy. 

He locked eyes with Harry, failing to realize that his comment was louder than he anticipated. Ernie pushed on a large smile on his face. Even if he was not one to lie, it was even less of him to be openly rude to someone. Well, at least consciously rude. “Potter!” he started, offering a handshake. “Last I heard of you, you were a Quidditch star, right? How’s that going?”

.

Harry looks at Ernie’s hand, debates taking it for only a second, and decides not to. He has no reason to force himself to be polite right now and he’s not going to. “You literally just said ‘ew’ under your breath,” he says in a dry monotone. “You realise it would have actually been less weird and rude to just ignore me or something? And no, I’m not playing Quidditch anymore.” A pang of irritation, but that’s just because he misses it. And that, at least, is not Ernie’s fault. He wonders vaguely whether Ernie truly does not read any magical news or if he’s simply so bitter he feels the need to act as if the Prophet isn’t spewing out garbage about Harry’s life at least once a week. “I needed a change of pace so I’m actually breeding Blast-Ended Skrewts these days. Doesn’t pay well, but it’s really fascinating.”

♚

Dear Merlin. She was already regretting asking. Hermione loved Harry, she would do anything for him. Really, she had gone through hell and back with him. The things they had shared had bonded them in a way she had never connected with anyone else. But now that life was getting complicated again with the trials happening soon, she could feel like Harry’s need to do more would show up again.

“Oh, well. I don’t really know how to use that.” It was pretty much like a Muggle phone, the ones her parents used. And of course she knew how to use a phone, but she had always been an old soul and the typical owl was usually her way to communicate. “I definitely prefer you to come here to visit me instead. I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately.”

Out of all the things she had expected him to say, that was the very last one. In fact, it was one she hadn’t even considered. “You mean Dudley Dursley? Your cousin Dudley Dursley? Muggle Dudley Dursley?” That made absolutely no sense, but she had heard worse. Anything could happen if that was something Hermione had learned. “Alright, let me get this right. You say that your cousin is a wizard and has a daughter now, that’s what you’re saying?”

.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry gives Hermione a sheepish look but no answer to the sentiment that she hasn’t seen much of him lately. It’s quite true, and he’s perfectly aware of it. It’s not just that he’s been busy, because even when he has a lot going on he always makes time for Ron and Hermione; it’s that when he’s in a weird mental space, he has to be ready to talk when he sees Hermione. Because Hermione sees right through him.

Thankfully, the topic of Dudley snags her interest as he’d known it would, and her shock makes him feel better for some reason, like he’s not overreacting. “That’s what I’m saying,” he agrees, leaning back into the couch and raising an eyebrow at her. “Completely fucking mental, right? I mean ... Dudley. Dudley Dursley. He says that the day I left Privet Drive, when the Order took him and my aunt and uncle to a safe place, that something just ... happened. The windows in the car exploded. I don’t get how that’s possible.” Hesitating, he finally voices a concern that’s started eating at him: “Could it have been because of me? Like ... I dunno, it can’t be coincidence, right, that the time he and I parted ways for good suddenly his magic explodes out of him?”

he    was    right    —    she    wasn’t    his    mother    ,    she    could    never    even    compare    to    lily    evans    ,    not    with    all    the    stories    she’d    heard    and    she    certainly    wasn’t    his    girlfriend    any    more    ,    but    when    she    called    him    her    harry    ,    she    meant    it    .    it    wasn’t    in    a    sense    of    pining    ,    that    she    still    loved    him    .    no    —    they    fell    out    of    love    ,    but    he    was    apart    of    her    ,    he    always    would    be    .    he    had    been    since    her    first    year    ,    there    was    no    replacing    that    .    no    matter    how    hard    she    tried    ,    not    that    she    even    attempted    .    “    oh    shut    up    ,    ginny    .    ”    she    mimics    .    she    doesn’t    care    for    his    attitude    and    she’d    never    let    it    deter    her    from    her    mission    ,    and    that    right    now    was    sobering    the    boy    up    .    “    i    said    it    once    ,    i’ll    say    it    again    ,    harry    james    .    you    are    risking    your    livelihood    ,    you    could    lose    your    job    ,    you    could    lose    your    life    ,    being    an    auror    is    dangerous    sober    and    you    want    to    go    in    with    a    hangover    or    still    half    baked    ,    please    just    listen    to    reason    .    i    cannot    lose    you    .    ”    she    already    thought    she    did    once    and    even    for    a    minute    ,    that    hurt    too    much    to    think    about    .

Harry turns away from her, unable to look at the hurt and anger and accusation on her face. Something about Ginny has always made it difficult to hide from himself. He knows he’s being reckless and irresponsible lately; he knows that he cannot continue on this way without getting himself killed; and even more than that, he knows that he cannot spearhead some kind of push against the corrupt Ministry while half of him remains deliberately unfocused and self-destructive. Still, there’s a prideful part of him that insists he knows what he’s doing and has more than earned the right to go about it however the hell he wants.

There also exists within Harry, though he has never spoken it aloud nor let himself analyse it too deeply, a senseless and deep-rooted, nearly unconscious certainty that he cannot die.

“I don’t work to make money,” says Harry, leaving everything else Ginny had said unacknowledged, at least out loud. He looks at her again, “You know as well as I do that I have more gold than I know what to do with. I don’t care if I get fired. Being an Auror’s a lot less fun than running round doing it myself was.”

“Sorry, fuck, I swear I’m not laughing at you,” Harry says, pulling himself together enough to send the cushion — which had hit Dudley in the face after his overexcited Accio — back to the other side of the room. “I had a ton of trouble with this one when I was first learning it and I was on a deadline. Just relax. Don’t overthink it. Your magic isn’t something you’re trying to control, it’s a part of you, like your arm. Work with it, not against it. Ready to try again?”

“I did what I had to do,” says Harry tightly. He thinks of using the Imperius Curse at Gringotts, of using Crucio on Alecto Carrow, of watching Voldemort’s lifeless body falling to the floor of the Great Hall and knowing it was technically he who had killed him, and for none of these things does he feel any regret. He’s learned that morality is not black and white, and if there is one thing in the world in which Harry feels secure, it is his own moral compass. “My hands are clean. Speak for yourself, Greengrass.”

"Don't fucking shout at me, Goyle," Harry snaps, hand hovering near his pocket where his wand is, though it would have to be drastic circumstances indeed to risk hexing him at the Ministry with two or three other witches and wizards nearby waiting for elevators. "What do you think my problem is? The Ministry's bad enough without you skulking around like a sleep paralysis demon."

Colin finishes his beer, just as Harry orders his. He doesn’t order another one, yet. He’ll wait till Harry gets his.

“There are plenty of jobs that could give you the adrenaline rush and take you within an inch of death, no?” Colin retorts with a raised brow, “Dragon tamer, hippogryff groomer…trying to haggle Madame Rosmerta for something free…the list goes on.”

Colin’s teasing but he definitely eyes Harry with concern. Colin is having a difficult time, himself, with other life circumstances but at the least he enjoys his job.

There’s a lengthy pause as Colin mulls over what the best thing to say to Harry would be.

“Would you ever leave?” is what he goes with.

Harry rolls his eyes at the suggestions but it’s not without a grin. Colin isn’t wrong, necessarily, that there are other careers which might suit his needs, but it’s more than that. It’s deeper than that, Harry just doesn’t like digging. Whether Colin realises it or not, his question is so eerily perceptive that Harry turns a raised eyebrow on him.

It felt like it had been forever since she had last seen him when in reality it was probably only a few weeks. He was one of the few people that Luna held near and dear to her heart. “Harry…” Reaching out she placed a gentle hand to his arm. Her smile soft and sweet. Her tone gentle and as soothing as she could keep it. “It’s alright, I was actually just cleaning up from a day of painting. Please come on in.” Stepping to the side she waited for him to walk through the threshold before locking it all back up and putting wards back in place. “Four hands are better then two aren’t they? I might even scrounge us up some tea after we’re done if you’re up for it.” Luna offered as she motioned for him to follow her out back. “How have you been?”

.

“As good as could be expected, I guess,” Harry answers as he follows her inside and feels some of his tension instantly melt away. He loves this place — loves all the art and photography on the walls, loves its well-used feel, the way you can tell that there’s love and creativity and contentment here. It’s infectious and it feels safe. He pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows as they go into the studio where she’d been cleaning up and he grins at her creation. “Damn, Luna, you’re always outdoing yourself. This is fucking wicked.”

He simply shrugs off the thanks, placing them back in his pocket before taking another large inhale on his. This time, a mix of purple and green exhaled from his nose, twirling in the night air and just about visible from the warming oranges and yellows from the window. He wasn’t expecting full conversation, however he turned his head once more to study Harry, feeling suddenly a little bit more worse for wear in his age but smiled at him to say he’d acknowledged his question and for him to continue.

He was silent whilst Harry spoke, learning a long while ago that patience was indeed a virtue and especially to those who needed extra time to put across what they wanted to say. As he processed, he took another drag of the cigarette, a red smoke now making him resemble a dragon as he debated. He had been in two wars, a child in one, fighting in another and numerous battles. He had seen so much in his near forty years of life and for him, whatever change to come wouldn’t benefit him but perhaps- would benefit his siblings and his daughter and however many kids he would be blessed with. And if anyone could do it, it would be the lad beside him, wise beyond his years. 

“It’s not what you think people want you to do and it’s not doing something simply because it’s expected. Truth is, Dumbledore was great and wise and talented beyond most others- and I’m not going to sugar-coat this or beat around the bush because you’re an adult now and it’s something you’re going to have to accept. Even if you both were close. But you know what he also was?” Bill didn’t think he would need to get this descriptive, nor ever had to share his true opinion about the man people hailed a hero. “- he was greedy, selfish, overly egotistic and ambitious to the point he didn’t mind who he crossed to get there. But you? You did some of that muggle messiah shit- you sacrificed yourself to- to Voldemort because you knew it was the thing to do to end it when you could’ve just not. You have given again and again with no thanks intended, simply because you wanted to or knew you had to. You’re not selfish nor greedy and your ambition is for social change and if you feel the change is needed, then you have your answer. But you’re not him. And that’s a good thing.”  

.

Harry stares hard at the ground as Bill enumerates Dumbledore’s many flaws, each one like a little knife in his heart. Dumbledore is a sore spot, and he’s come round to the realisation that he’s always going to be a sore spot. He’s never told a soul about their chat in King’s Cross — or whatever limbo version of King’s Cross he’d found himself in that night — because it feels so personal, so private, that talking about it might somehow tarnish it or make it not real. Harry doesn’t contradict Bill because in many ways he isn’t wrong; because on some level, he, Harry, understands why Dumbledore did what he did, raised him to fight and then sent him on a quest to his own death; and also because he simply doesn’t know how to talk about all his emotions surrounding his old mentor.

Apart from that, Bill is, as usual, brilliant in his understanding of things. If you feel the change is needed, then you have your answer. It’s so simple and so logical, and he’s absolutely right.

“You’re giving me way too much credit,” Harry says wryly. “Definitely no Muggle messiah shit, I just got really lucky. I dunno,” he sighs, “maybe you’re right. I know we need change. And, I mean, this is the time to do something, isn’t it? It feels like ... like everything’s up in the air. Like usually everything is so locked into place, but right now ...” Right now, gears are turning. Foundations are shifting. “Something’s different. These trials ... maybe they’re an opportunity.”