June 28th, 1992, London, 221B Baker Street, 8:27 AM.
It had been weeks since that night, when the Quartet had their first serious adventure, besides the Troll's attack.
Yet, Harry still remembered it vividly, the treacherous events that followed, Quirrell's horrid demise...
"Sigh~" The boy breathed heavily on the porthole window, watching as some scattered sunlight managed to break through the dense cloud of London, as usual, while Jasper stirred slightly in his hand, nudging at the boy's palm seeking a gentle comfort.
Ethan had gone out with Osian - The Re'em earlier that morning, and he said that he had some business to attend to and would be back by noon, leaving Harry slightly dumbfounded at the implications.
So it was today, it would be only him at home with Jasper and....
"Knock-knock, Luna to Harry" The little girl's voice rang right beside him, brimming with enthusiasm as usual.
Unbeknownst to Harry, the girl had come to his side to scrutinise the boy with her bright grey orbs.
Luna Lovegood stood beside him, her grey eyes already assessing his mood. She was a constant, a gentle presence in a world that often felt overwhelmingly chaotic.
"Uhmmm... Y-yes, Luna?" Harry held his fright, trying to sound normal. He failed.
"Hm?" Luna's slightly dark blonde hair shimmered under the sunlight as she tilted her head slightly to the side. Confusion drew on her face, though her eyes never left Harry, which made the boy gulp in nervousness.
It was summer, and as Ethan's disciple, Luna often came here to learn; occasionally, she would stay overnight. Today was a day off, as Ethan had an urgent matter to attend to.
Luna tilted her head, a strand of slightly dark blonde hair catching the light. "Hm?" Her gaze didn't waver, a disconcerting intensity for someone so ethereal. Harry felt a blush creep up his neck.
As she took a stepped closer, staring at him with her grey eyes, which further startled Harry, making a blush found its way to his face.
Her voice, though dreamy, tinged with obvious concern. "You are feeling unwell... what really happened at school, Harry?"
Harry heaved another sigh, nodded absently, and his gaze drifted downward. Guilt slowly crawled up his back. He hadn't told her, his best friend, about what had happened that night, leaving her in the dark...
Suddenly, Luna exclaimed: "You know... The Wackspurts are addicted to this kind of bad energy," she then, standing on tiptoe, her white shirt and blue pleated skirt as if dancing in the sunlight, as she tried to chase away those creatures with her two small hands.
Harry was in a daze before a warm smile found its way to his mouth. Seeing the little girl in white doing this kind of thing somehow warmed his aching heart. It was a bizarre but utterly Luna gesture.
"Actually..." Harry began to pour out everything.
Luna listened without interruption, her grey eyes unwavering. When he finished, she didn't offer platitudes or dismiss his fears. Instead, she simply reached for his hands, her touch surprisingly strong.
"It sounds… heavy," she said softly, her voice a gentle hum. "Like a Nargle trying to carry a Blibbering Humdinger."
Harry chuckled, a shaky sound. Luna had a way of making even the most terrifying things seem… manageable. Holding her hands, listening to her quiet hums, always settled his moods.
He was profoundly grateful for her presence.
The wind rustled the leaves outside, and the clouds drifted lazily across the horizon as they sat in comfortable silence, the shared weight of his secret creating a strange intimacy.
"Oh, Harry, the plants…" Luna chirped, breaking the spell. "They probably very thirsty right now."
"Right," Harry replied, his voice noticeably brighter. "We should get going."
Afterwards, they fell into their usual routine. Chores were completed with a quiet efficiency, books were read aloud, and they exchanged observations on everything from the peculiar habits of garden gnomes to the intricacies of Ancient Runes. They tended to the small herb garden Ethan had started, carefully watering and pruning the magical plants. And, of course, they tackled the homework Ethan had assigned – simply yet efficient exercises in Arithmancy and Divination, Charms...
The afternoon passed peacefully, a balm to Harry's troubled soul. He found himself laughing more easily, his anxieties momentarily forgotten in Luna's gentle company. He still felt the weight of what had happened, but it no longer felt crushing.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, a key turned in the lock. Ethan was back. He entered, looking weary but composed, Osian's majestic form shimmering faintly behind him.
Ethan's gaze swept over the room, landing on Harry and Luna, their heads bent over a particularly complex Arithmancy problem. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"Good afternoon, you two," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I trust the day has been… productive?"
Harry looked up, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. He was ready to face Ethan's questions, to finally share the full truth. But as he met Ethan's gaze, he saw not interrogation, but a quiet understanding.
Perhaps, he thought, he wasn't as alone as he'd believed. And perhaps, with Ethan and Luna by his side, he could navigate the darkness that lay ahead. The weight hadn't disappeared, but it felt… lighter. A seed of hope, nurtured by friendship and a shared love of the mystical, had been blooming resiliently.
...
June 29th, 1992, London, 221B Baker Street, 8:27 AM.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of old parchment and beeswax polish. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the sitting room, illuminating floating dust motes caught in its golden embrace. Ethan, perched on the edge of his worn armchair, meticulously reread the letter from Howard, his lips pursed in thought. The paper, a creamy vellum, crackled softly in his hand.
"Further discussion of Muggle achievements," Ethan murmured to himself, adjusting his silvery square-frame glasses. "Howard's enthusiasm is… infectious, to say the least." He glanced across the room at Harry, who was engrossed in a game of exploding snap with Luna.
The rhythmic clicking of the cards punctuated the otherwise quiet morning. Luna, ever ethereal, hummed a tuneless melody, her mystic eyes sparkling with mirth as her cards detonated in a puff of harmless smoke.
Harry wore a bemused expression as his cards went up in flames. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was a vast departure from the wary, haunted look Ethan had first seen on the boy's face three years prior.
Still, the faint scar on his lightning bolt could not remove the shadow he got form Voldemort's Killing Curse.
"What is it, Dad?" Harry asked, tearing his gaze away from the game as he noticed Ethan's gaze.
"Howard, a friend I made during my old travels. He's inviting me over for some Muggle discussion" Ethan supplied, a glint of amusement dancing in his dark amber eyes. "Howard assures me there are some rather fascinating exhibits at the Museum of Modern Art he's dying to show us. And a trip to America would do us all good, I think."
Luna, seemingly oblivious, simply grinned. "Oooh, New York! I've heard they have the most peculiar Nargles there! Possibly even Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the sewers!"
Harry thought raced with excitement, wondering what was place called New York as he had only read about it through some Muggle's newspapers.
Ethan chuckled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Luna. We're going for the Muggle culture, remember?" Even in his heart, he could not help but wonder about the possible truth behind Luna's words.
He stood, retrieving his golden pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket. A quick glance informed him that it was time to prepare. "Alright, you two. Best get packed. We're off to Gringotts to arrange for our portkeys." He fixed Harry with a pointed stare."And Harry, try not to blow up any more of your cards. We don't want to give the goblins any more reason to be… disagreeable than they already are."
...
The interior of Gringotts Wizarding Bank was as oppressively grandiose as ever. Towering marble pillars supported a vaulted ceiling, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of gold and the sour aroma of goblin sweat. The goblins, perched on high stools behind their counting desks, regarded them with suspicion as they approached.
Ethan, with his usual air of quiet authority, led Harry and Luna to a vacant counter at the end of the long hall."Good morning," he greeted the goblin behind the counter, whose nameplate identified him as Griphook. "We require portkeys to New York. Three passengers, departing this afternoon."
Griphook's sharp eyes narrowed as he examined Ethan's face. "And the purpose of your trip?" he demanded, his voice a gravelly rasp.
"Leisure," Ethan replied smoothly. "Sightseeing, you might say."
Griphook grunted sceptically, but he didn't press the matter. He knew Ethan, and he knew better than to question the Unspeakable too closely.
After a few more curt exchanges and some haggling over prices – goblins were goblins, after all – the portkeys were arranged. They were to be activated at precisely 3:00 PM from an abandoned telephone box near Charing Cross Road.
...
Later that afternoon, standing inside the cramped confines of the aforementioned telephone box, Harry clutched a battered old boot – their designated portkey. Luna, ever adaptable, held a rusty tin can with an air of serene indifference.
"Ready?" Ethan asked, his hand resting reassuringly on Harry's shoulder.
"As I'll ever be," Harry replied, though his voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.
At precisely 3:00 PM, the telephone box shuddered violently, and a powerful force yanked them forward. The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of colours and sensations, and then, just as abruptly, they landed with a thump on solid ground.
They found themselves on a bustling street corner in New York City. The air vibrated with the cacophony of car horns, sirens, and the constant chatter of the crowds. Buildings of impossible height scraped the sky, and a sense of frenetic energy pervaded everything.
A broad-shouldered man with a beaming smile detached himself from the throng and hurried towards them. "Ethan!" he boomed, his voice tinged with a distinct American accent. "Welcome to the States! And you must be Harry and Luna! I'm Howard, I am overjoyed to greet you all to New York!"
Howard enveloped Ethan in a hearty hug before turning his attention to Harry and Luna, shaking their hands with an enthusiasm that nearly dislocated their shoulders. "I've got a cab waiting," he announced, gesturing towards a yellow vehicle parked just down the street. "Let's get you settled in, and then we can start exploring!"
As they piled into the cab, gawking at the passing sights, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. This was it – a whole new world, far removed from Privet Drive and the Dursleys. He glanced at Ethan, who was watching him with a knowing smile.
...