Harry Potter Anthology

For four years, Harry had followed his best friend's advice on how to handle Ginny--Ron told him, basically, to shut up and nod vigorously. Harry was nary a month into this whole marriage ordeal whereas Ron was already two years deep, so surely his advice was sound ...

Today's argument was regarding Harry's salary, or rather the low quantity of it. It had been a long time since he'd experience financial woe. A year ago, his wealth, along with thousands of others', vanished overnight when the Dragon returned to melt Gringotts' into unusable half-gold half-iron slag. The same Dragon who he freed as a child had now impoverished him--oh, sweet irony!

Harry's eyes tracked Ginny as she strode up and down the narrow entrance hallway of their London flat. Above her head swayed a tenement light bulb that cast her in shadows, making her auburn hair seem more fiery than usual.

Harry, barely listening, nodded along, but when she asked him "how are we to afford sending little James to Hogwarts?" he couldn't help himself.

"He's two years old, Ginny."

"And!"

"Preliminary school is three far years away! Hogwarts is in eight! By that time, Kingsley would have--"

His wife cut him off. "You promised you'd be promoted last year."

"I've explained it. Kingsley decided to stay on, to keep an eye on things." Harry had previously informed her about how Auror Leadership positions were normally inherited. Therefore, Kingsley, when he retired, would pass his position onto Cranston, but his auror crest, that would go to Harry--a pseudo adoption of sorts. "You want me to demand Kingsley retire early?" He slammed a hand onto the wall he was leaning on. "I owe him a lot, you know. I couldn't be an Auror, not under the old rules. Your brother neither!"

Ginny's voice was mousey. "You promised you weren't going to get physical."

"Oh, for Godrick's sake, I'm merely hitting the wall! What are you to do? Call Magical Enforcement on me? Again?"

Instantly, Harry regretted it. His wife was running into their bedroom now, flinging clothes into suitcases. He saw his sleeping son levitate into pair of baby blue denim overalls. In the background, his wife began to dictate a letter. Harry waited ... what with the baby movement, along with the scratching sounds of Ginny's quill, her familiar was sure to appear. On cue, the owl flew through the open window.

Quietly, Pidwidgeon--or Pidwig--perched his talons onto the far railing of James' baby crib, his preferred location. By now, the baby was floating down back down to his crib, and the owl busied himself with making sure the baby made a gentle landing. One for the living room. One in the bedroom. That was two cribs for a three room flat--ridiculous! But Ginny had insisted.

His wife's voice and quill scratched into the night. Eventually, both quietened. Ginny whistled sharply, and her owl darted to the letter in her hand. Harry followed the owl's exiting flight as it circled the ceiling twice before flying out to the window and into the summer night beyond. He imagined Mrs. Weasely, his dear mother-in-law, opening the letter. Her face always animated whenever she got cross. And every time, of course, she took her daughter's side.

Harry heard Ginny at the door, but did not turn his head to look. He felt her eyes bore into the back of his head. She didn't need his help, for by now, she was old hat at this running back home business. Ginny's suitcases would be floating easily enough, her wand accio-ing little James into a carrying basket, and of course she would say ...

"I gave up my career for you, Potter."

Harry kept staring out the window. He only nodded. Because that was what his brother-in-law had said he should do. Because the last time he gave backtalk, Ginny had raised her voice and he raised his voice and then all of a sudden the flat looked like a second coming of the Battle of Hogwarts, only this time, instead of the sounds of war, it was the sound of a baby screaming, freshly woke and irate!

There was always a silver lining, however. Harry waited for Ginny to exit before making his move. Then he made his way to the window's ledge, knelt, and popped open the hidden compartment where he had stashed a pack of cigarettes--Lovely. He tugged a stick onto his trembling lips, and slid the rest into the vest pocket of his waistcoat. Then he straddled the ledge with a leg. He lit up. Inhaled vigorously. Joy. Hadn't had one for months. Ginny permitted not even one.

His exhaled smoke drifted upwards to the summer moon, obscuring it, but also intensifying the melancholiness of its beauty. He always loved the moon. Made him think of Uncle Remus and all the fun and kindness that was shared. And then he would grow sad because the Battle had erased that from happening ever more.

More often than not, though, he thought of ... Luna.

Harry snorted. The moment your wife walks out, he thought wryly, you think of other woman.

But he couldn't fool himself. This Pitiful Man Who Lived, a moniker he sometimes called himself, reminisced of Luna constantly. It was whenever he felt fearful, or pressured. Whenever he felt ... friendless. Unlike Hermione, Luna never needed him to tell her his sorrows, she just knew. Unlike Ron, Luna didn't say it was "perfectly alright" to be afraid of your wife. Luna understood him silently, without judgement.

After graduating, Harry had only seen Luna but twice. Neither were they in communique, but he imagined she was backpacking through Europe still. And so, maybe that Luna, the one who lived so fondly in memory, maybe that was gone forever ... a thought struck him: that he should be accustomed to such losses, really. His throat tightened, and he blamed the cigarettes.

At that moment, a downward gust buffeted him back, blowing ash into a nostril. Reflexively, he spat, and his cigarette fell out and downward, below to Page Street. As for himself, he fell backward onto his rump.

Harry rubbed his backside. And then he rubbed his eyes. Replacing his spot upon the ledge, were two huge wings, large enough to block nearly all of the incumbent moonlight. Those bat-like wings were attached to a smallish creature with torso was only slightly bigger than an owl's, much like a rocking horse with wings.

Its skeletal hooves stamped impatiently, making pock-pock noises atop the wooden ledge. It flared its equine nostrils and shrieked. It cocked its head at Harry, and gave to him a smug pout that seemed to indicate it was satisfied.

And what would a thestral be satisfied with?

The thestral's right hoof kicked forward. Harry reached for the wand-sheath strapped behind his waist, his other arm warding for possible impact. But the creature's foot stopped inches from him. The thing shook its foot, as if tell him: look! And so he did, noticing that around the thestral's ankle equipped a golden bracelet. Was Harry supposed to take it?

Any rumination was disrupted when the ankle bracelet began to rattle. Air whistled through the anklet's dangling chains, grooves and gem-slots, spinning faster and faster until it all became one golden blur.

This blur shot out a orb of golden light! It was small at first, resembling the anklet's size, but growing!

Harry thought he heard a little girl. But he realizing it had been himself. Tentatively, he touched the front rise of his pants, and was gladdened to find he hadn't soiled himself. The thestral on the window neighed. Was the infernal thing laughing at me?

Meanwhile, the golden orb had stopped expanding. It was oblong now, more akin to that of a rounded refrigerator--only opaque. Peering into this golden shell, Harry saw goopy nodes merge together, others splitting. It was like watching a snow globe--one that built itself!

Golden shapes formed: tents, trees, then a human shape ... Luna?

"Hiya, Harry!" A smaller Luna waved at him excitedly, her lovely figure doing a jump to match.

Harry smiled. He missed hearing his name on her lips. As Luna continued to speak, he grew more worried for her. Luna's backdrop was clear enough that he could make out a dozen busy jungle villagers, and they were clearly preparing for a feast of sorts.

"I'm terribly sorry that I haven't made enough effort to keep in touch," Luna was saying. "Important things, people, often slip my mind, as you well know. And you are important. In fact, that is why I've sent Charlie to you." At the mention of his name, the thestral--Charlie--snorted.

Luna's face leant forward. "I would like to ask a favor."

"Anything." Harry said this out loud, even though there was no way for her to receive the response. The phantasmal image before him was merely a magical version of a simple telegram.

"I'm getting married!" Luna's smile was radiant, almost blinding. "Would you be my best man?"

Harry grinned at her wording. "Maid of honor", I'd be, you beautiful idiot. It was flattering to think---then it hit him hard, like someone had decided to kick his stomach relentlessly. He clawed his belly, but the pain ignored him. Luna was getting married.

He retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket ... and threw the bloody thing at the thestral.

• COVER ART: https://www.deviantart.com/mleth/art/Kiss-310714299