Growing In The Sun
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“I’m sorry, sir,” the young man said. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He was a tall youth with dark hair and eyes; he wore an immaculate uniform that had been pressed to perfection by his mother’s hands. His name tag read: RYAN DALTON-HALLOWEEN.
The old soldier sighed as he looked at him through thick glasses from behind his desk in the office of the Hallows’ Academy for Young Wizards. Ryan Dalton-Halliday—Ryan Halloween, if one were being polite—was only twenty years old but already held himself like someone much older than that.
And it wasn’t just because of the way he carried himself or spoke to people; there was something else going on here…something more. Something deeper.
He’d met many wizards over the course of his career, both good and bad, and this kid reminded him of some others he knew. There was no doubt in his mind that Ryan Halloween would be a force to reckon with someday soon. But right now?
Right now, all he wanted was to get out of here before anyone noticed how late they were getting back from their field trip!
“It is not your fault,” the wizard replied gently. “And I am sure we can find another time to talk about it…” He paused and then smiled warmly. “Besides, I think it might help you relax after such a long day.”
Ryan nodded slowly, still looking uncomfortable. Then he stood up straight and walked around the desk toward the door. Before opening it, however, he turned again to look at the old man who had hired him almost two decades ago.
“Sir?”
“Yes, son?”
“What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Jules sat quietly in the chair across from her father’s desk, watching as he wrote down the date on a piece of paper. She didn’t say anything until she saw him put away his pen and stand up.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked, walking around the desk and standing beside Jules. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged slightly. “Just wondering…”
Her dad leaned forward, placing his arms on the edge of the table between them. For a moment they simply stared into each other’s eyes without speaking; then, finally, he reached out and took hold of her hand.
“Well, my little girl,” he began softly, squeezing lightly, “you have made me very proud today.”
His daughter squeezed back tightly. It felt so wonderful to hear those words coming out of his mouth. Her heart soared. This was exactly why she had come home early! To see him! After everything that had happened since last summer when he’d left for New York City to work at the Daily Prophet, she hadn’t seen him nearly enough.
Not even once during Christmas break. Now, though, things were different. Things were better.
As far as she could tell, her father loved working at the Ministry of Magic. He rarely complained anymore about having to leave every morning before dawn and return well past midnight. And he seemed happy most days, too.
When she did visit him at the ministry, which wasn’t often these days, he always had stories to share of the interesting cases he’d worked on. Most of them involved Dark wizards trying to make trouble for Muggles.
As a result, he never really talked much about his job outside of the department where he worked.
That was fine with Jules, though. What mattered to her was that he was safe and happy. That he was alive.
Now, apparently, he was also planning to go out of town next week. She wondered whether he planned to take her along this time. If so, she couldn’t wait. They’d been apart too long.
“You ready to head out?” he asked suddenly.
Jules nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!”
They stepped out into the hallway together, heading toward the front doors.
“So, Dad,” she started casually, “what are you gonna wear tonight?”
He chuckled. “Oh, nothing special. Just jeans and a nice shirt.”
“Cool,” she answered. “Are you taking any extra clothes with you?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll be staying overnight in London. We’ve got a big meeting first thing Monday morning, so I won’t be able to get back until late Sunday evening.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Have fun, Daddy. Don’t worry, Mom will keep me busy while you’re gone. You know how she likes to bake cookies and stuff like that…”
A smile spread across his face. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m glad to hear you haven’t changed your ways.”
Jules laughed. “Of course not. I’m still a bit of a tomboy, aren’t I?”
“Very much so,” he confirmed happily. “But don’t let that fool you. Your mother has taught you well.”
“Uh huh,” she responded. “Anyway, what should I bring to school tomorrow?”
“Nothing special. A few books and notes if you need them for class, but otherwise just yourself.”
“All right, cool,” she said, turning to open the front door.
Then she stopped abruptly and looked back at her father. “Dad…?”
“Hmm?”
“Um, do you want me to call you ‘Father’ or something else?”
The older man frowned slightly. “Call me whatever you feel comfortable calling me, dear.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Do you prefer Mr. Weasley, Sir, Professor, Uncle Ron, or James?”
For a moment he looked confused by the question, then a small grin spread across his face. “James is good,” he replied. “It reminds me of our youth.”
Jules smiled back. “Good. So, um, what would you like me to call you? Father, sir, daddy, papa, pops, pop-pop, Popsie, Pop, Poppa, Papa Bear, Big Guy, Old Man Potter…?”
At first her father appeared puzzled by the seemingly random list of names she rattled off. Then, however, he broke into laughter.
“Ha ha!” he managed after several seconds. “How many times must I remind you that we’re both grown men now?!”
Jules grinned. “Sorry. But it’s hard not to think of you as my father sometimes, especially when you act all parental.”
“Ah yes,” he said. “My son, the teenager who can’t seem to grow up yet.”
“Hey, I’m only seventeen!” she protested playfully.
Her father shook his head fondly. “Don’t worry, love. One day soon you’ll realize there’s no such thing as growing up. There are just stages in life, and each one comes with its own set of challenges.”
“Like being an adult,” she mused aloud.
He shrugged. “Exactly.”
She turned away from the door again and walked over to give her dad another hug. “Love you, Daddy,” she whispered.
“And I you, pumpkin,” he murmured back.
***
Harry woke early the following morning. It felt strange to wake up without Ginny beside him. Normally they were awake before seven anyway, since she liked to sleep in during the summer months.
This year, however, she’d insisted on getting up earlier than usual because she wanted to spend some quality time with their daughter. Harry didn’t mind; he knew how important it was for her to bond with Jules. Still, waking up alone made him miss her more acutely than normal.
He rolled onto his side and reached under the bed to retrieve his wand. He had to use magic to reach underneath, which meant he could never leave anything down there. His trunk, Hermione’s old desk, and the rest of his belongings always ended up scattered around the room whenever he tried to put things away.
The fact that he needed to cast spells every morning to find his possessions drove him crazy.
Still, it wasn’t really a problem for most people. Most wizards simply used wands to move objects around instead of casting spells. For someone like Harry, whose magic was weak compared to other witches and wizards (and even Muggles), using a wand required far too much energy.
Not only did he have to expend magical power to make the spell work, but he also had to channel enough strength through the stick to actually lift the object. In short, it took way longer and cost more effort to perform simple tasks with a wand than it ever would with magic.
As he pulled out his trusty staff, though, he realized something odd: there was no rustling coming from inside the trunk. Usually, when he opened it, he heard the sound of paper shifting against itself as he rummaged about.
That hadn’t happened this time, however. Instead, the entire compartment remained silent.
That was weird, he thought. Why wouldn’t the trunk be making any noise? Was there something wrong with it?!
He paused, frowning. Did he remember locking it last night? Or maybe he closed the lid while it was unlocked, and now it was stuck shut!
Curious, he grabbed hold of the handle and gave it a tug. Nothing happened. After a second try, he yanked harder—still nothing. Frustrated, he slammed the trunk shut. When he reopened it, however, it still seemed to be locked.
Confused, he stared at the trunk for several moments. Then, suddenly, it occurred to him why the contents weren’t rattling around anymore. Because he’d moved them!
His heart skipped a beat. Had he accidentally left the trunk open overnight? If so, that might explain why it was empty. Maybe he’d packed everything up already and forgotten to close the lid properly…
But if that were true, then where was his wand?
Panic began to rise within him as he frantically searched the floor beneath the bed. No wand. Where else could it possibly be? Under the mattress? Behind the curtains? On top of the wardrobe?
No. Definitely not. He couldn’t see it anywhere. And besides, he’d definitely remember doing that.
Then it hit him. He remembered exactly where he’d seen his wand yesterday evening. Right next to the pile of clothes he kept folded on top of his chest of drawers.
Ginny had been helping him get ready to go to dinner. She’d taken the opportunity to change into something nicer, and as she stepped out of her bedroom wearing a new dress, Harry noticed his wand lying right beside her discarded clothing.
The realization sent a wave of relief washing over him. So he hadn’t lost his wand after all!
Relief quickly gave way to panic once again, however. What had happened to it? Had someone stolen it? Could he have dropped it somewhere and forgotten about it?
It didn’t seem possible, but he didn’t know what else to think. He didn’t want to believe anyone had broken in and stolen his wand, especially given how well-guarded the house usually was. But then again, who knew how many people had access to the place?
All sorts of guests came to visit throughout the summer, and sometimes they stayed for days or weeks at a time.
Maybe he should check downstairs first, just to be sure nobody had come in and hidden it behind the sofa cushions.
“Mum?” he called. “Are you guys up yet?”
Silence greeted him.
He waited another minute but still received no response.
Well, that probably meant everyone was still asleep. With that settled, he decided to take a quick look around the rest of the house. First, he checked the bathroom. There was no sign of his wand anywhere. Next, he went upstairs to the master bedroom and looked under the bed, but found nothing either.
Finally, he returned to his own room, hoping he might discover it tucked away amongst the clutter.
There was some stuff on the floor near the foot of the bed, but none of it appeared particularly interesting. A few books lay scattered across the carpet, along with an old pair of boots, which must belong to one of the Weasley twins. The closet door hung open, revealing his father’s robes hanging neatly inside.
His mother’s dresses and coats were piled haphazardly on the shelves above the wardrobe.
Harry glanced back down at the wand sticking out of Ginny’s pocket. It seemed strange that whoever had stolen it had done so without taking anything else. Unless they’d only wanted the wand. In that case, perhaps he ought to keep looking for it elsewhere.
Still, he hesitated before leaving the room. He was worried that if he did leave, he would forget about the wand altogether and never find it again. Besides, he wasn’t quite ready to give up hope yet. Perhaps he was being too hasty.
After all, he reasoned, he’d always known there was a chance he might lose his wand someday. Even if he took precautions, such things were bound to happen eventually.
Besides, he reminded himself, I’m not going to let this stop me from using magic. Not now, anyway.
With renewed determination, he turned toward the window.
***
A moment later, Harry heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“What are you—”
“—doing here?!”
As Ron entered the room, he saw Harry standing by the windowsill, staring outside.
“‘Morning,” said Harry, turning around.
Ron’s eyes widened when he spotted the wand poking out of Ginny’s pocket.
“I thought you’d lost your wand!” exclaimed Ron excitedly.
“Yeah, well…”
“So where is it?”
“In my sister’s pocket.”
“Oh yeah?”
Harry nodded.
Ron walked over to stand beside him. They both peered through the glass at the dark garden below.
“You don’t suppose it fell out while we were playing Quidditch last night?”
“Dunno. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve got mine stuck in the back of my pants somewhere. You know, because of all those times I tried to use it when Mum was watching us…and I forgot to pull it out beforehand.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”
“Well, it’s really hard to bend down and pick something up off the ground without bending your knees. And whenever I try to reach in there, it just feels like the bottom part of my trousers is getting tighter and tighter until finally—wham! —it hits me right between the legs.
Then I remember why I left it in there in the first place.”
They stared silently for several moments, each trying to imagine what it felt like to have something lodged deep within their underwear.
Then, suddenly, Ron burst out laughing.
“That’s hilarious! Hey, you wanna see a trick?”
“No thanks,” said Harry, shaking his head. “I’ll stick with the wand in my pocket.”
“Okay, okay. Here goes: When you’re sitting down, put your hands flat on top of your thighs. Now, slowly lift them straight up into the air as high as they go. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Now bring ’em down again, but very quickly. How does it feel?”
“Like someone’s pulling my trousers apart from the inside.”
Ron laughed again. “Exactly. See? That’s what it feels like every time I try to get hold of my wand. If only I could turn invisible, maybe I wouldn’t need it anymore…”
“Do you reckon it’s stuck in your jeans?” asked Harry curiously.
“Maybe. But even then, it shouldn’t be too difficult to fish it out once I’m wearing normal clothes. Anyway, how come you’re up already?”
“Had a bit of trouble sleeping last night, actually. Thought I’d better make sure everything was safe before breakfast.”
“Safe?”
“Yes. Safe. As in, no Dark wizards or Death Eaters lurking nearby. We didn’t want any nasty surprises today.”
“Right. Good idea,” agreed Ron quietly.
He looked away from Harry and began inspecting the rest of the room. There was nothing much worth seeing except for the two beds, which were covered with blankets and pillows. One of the beds was empty; the other belonged to Hermione Granger, who was lying under her covers reading a book.
She gave them a brief smile as she closed the cover of the novel and placed it gently upon the pillow next to her. She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up higher around herself.
Hermione Granger, thought Harry absently. The girl whose parents died saving people from Voldemort. Her name means “lightning bolt” in Latin. Lightning bolts strike fearlessly into the heart of darkness.
And yet, despite the fact that she knew exactly who Hermione Granger was, Harry found himself feeling oddly uncomfortable in her presence. He couldn’t explain why. All he knew for certain was that he needed to avoid talking to her if possible.
The End