A few hours later, Harry and Ginny were still wrapped up together under Charlie's blankets, the room carrying the lingering scent of fire-roasted pumpkin and that distinctly Ginny fragrance—something between wildflowers and mischief that made Harry's enhanced senses practically hum with appreciation.
Ginny rested her head against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin. "Merlin's beard, Potter," she breathed, that trademark smirk playing at her lips. "I feel like I've just played the World Cup final against a team of Ukrainian Ironbellys. And somehow... I think I won."
Harry's laugh rumbled through his chest, the sound rich and thoroughly pleased with himself. "Won, did you? That's quite the claim, Weasley." His fingers found their way into her hair, twirling the silky strands. "Though I have to say, your technique was... inspired. Where exactly did you learn to—"
"Oh no," Ginny interrupted, pushing herself up on her elbow to fix him with that devastating grin. "A lady never reveals her secrets. Besides," she leaned closer, her voice dropping to that husky whisper that made his cosmic enhancements practically purr, "I had excellent motivation to improvise."
"Motivation?" Harry raised an eyebrow, channeling every ounce of that Cavill-esque confidence. "Care to elaborate on what exactly motivated such... creativity?"
Ginny's eyes sparkled with pure mischief. "Well, when your boyfriend suddenly transforms into this..." she gestured at his enhanced physique with obvious appreciation, "ridiculously attractive, cosmically-powered, insufferably cocky version of himself, a girl has to step up her game."
"Insufferably cocky?" Harry's grin was absolutely wicked. "I prefer 'righteously confident' with a side of 'devastatingly charming.'"
"Oh, you prefer that, do you?" Ginny laughed, that bright, fearless sound that had first caught his attention years ago. "And here I thought your ego couldn't possibly get any bigger. Clearly, cosmic enhancement comes with side effects."
"Side effects like being irresistible to beautiful redheads?" Harry's voice carried that perfect blend of arrogance and affection that made her pulse quicken.
"Irresistible is a strong word, Potter." Ginny's tone was all challenge, but her eyes betrayed her. "Though I suppose you have... certain qualities that aren't completely terrible."
"Not completely terrible?" Harry sat up slightly, pulling her with him until she was practically draped across his chest. "Ginny Weasley, I'm wounded. After everything we just shared, and you think I'm 'not completely terrible'?"
"Well," she pretended to consider, tapping a finger against her lips in mock thought. "You're moderately attractive, I suppose. In a 'cosmic superhero with perfect hair and annoyingly good instincts' sort of way."
"Moderately attractive," Harry repeated, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "And here I was thinking I'd completely swept you off your feet."
"Sweep me off my feet?" Ginny's laugh was breathless but defiant. "Harry Potter, I'm a Weasley. We don't get swept. We do the sweeping."
"Is that so?" In one fluid movement, Harry had flipped their positions, hovering over her with that predatory grace his enhancements had gifted him. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looked like you were the one who got... overwhelmed."
Ginny's cheeks flushed pink, but her grin never wavered. "Overwhelmed? I'll have you know I maintained perfect composure throughout our entire... encounter."
"Perfect composure?" Harry's voice was silk and mischief. "Interesting. Because I distinctly remember you saying my name in a very... uncompensed way. Several times, actually."
"I was being encouraging," she shot back, though her voice had gone slightly husky. "Good sportsmanship and all that."
"Sportsmanship." Harry's grin was absolutely sinful. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"Among other things," Ginny managed, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, tracing the impressive lines of muscle there. "Though I have to admit, your performance was... above average."
"Above average?" Harry's eyebrow arched dangerously. "Ginny, love, I think your scoring system might need recalibration. Because judging by your reactions, I'd say we're looking at record-breaking territory."
"Record-breaking?" She laughed, but there was heat in her eyes. "Someone's awfully sure of himself."
"Someone has reason to be," Harry replied smoothly, leaning down until his lips were barely brushing her ear. "Especially when his girlfriend can't seem to stop trembling whenever he touches her like... this."
His fingers traced a feather-light path along her side, and Ginny's sharp intake of breath was answer enough.
"That's... that's not trembling," she managed, though her voice betrayed her. "That's just... residual energy from all the cosmic nonsense."
"Residual energy?" Harry's laugh was low and thoroughly amused. "Is that your story?"
"It's the truth," she insisted, but her protest was somewhat undermined by the way she arched into his touch.
"Well then," Harry murmured, his voice dropping to that devastating register that made her toes curl, "perhaps we should work on dissipating some of that excess energy."
"Harry Potter," Ginny breathed, her hands tangling in his hair, "you are absolutely impossible."
"Impossibly charming?" he suggested, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear.
"Impossibly arrogant," she countered, though her protest lacked any real conviction.
"Impossibly good-looking?" Another kiss, this time to her collarbone.
"Impossibly... perfect," she whispered, and the admission seemed to surprise them both.
Harry pulled back to look at her, his expression softening from predatory confidence to something deeper, more tender. "Perfect, am I?"
Ginny's cheeks flushed deeper, but she held his gaze steadily. "Don't let it go to your head, Potter. Your ego is already insufferable enough."
"Too late," Harry grinned, but there was genuine warmth behind the cockiness now. "You called me perfect. That's going straight into my permanent memory banks."
"I was clearly having a moment of temporary insanity," Ginny protested, but she was smiling now, soft and genuine.
"The best kind of moment," Harry murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Though I have to say, if this is insanity, I'm never wanting to be sane again."
"Smooth, Potter. Very smooth." But her voice had gone tender, and she leaned into his touch. "You know, when I sneaked in here earlier, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."
"Really? Because it seemed like you knew exactly what you wanted."
"I did." Her eyes met his, suddenly serious. "I wanted you. All of you. The cosmic enhancements, the ridiculous confidence, the infuriating swagger... but mostly just you. The Harry who makes terrible jokes and worries about everyone and somehow always manages to save the day."
Harry's expression grew thoughtful. "Even with all the cosmic nonsense? Because I have to admit, it's been... a lot."
"Especially with the cosmic nonsense," Ginny said firmly. "Harry, you've literally been enhanced by the universe itself, and you're still worried about whether I want you. That's peak Harry Potter right there."
"I'm not worried," Harry protested, but his grin gave him away.
"You absolutely are," Ginny laughed. "And it's adorable. Here you are, looking like some sort of deity, capable of impossible magic, and you're still that same boy who couldn't believe I fancied him."
"Well, when you put it like that..." Harry's smile turned self-deprecating. "Maybe I am a bit ridiculous."
"Completely ridiculous," Ginny agreed fondly. "But you're my ridiculous cosmic superhero boyfriend, so I suppose I'll keep you."
"Generous of you," Harry murmured, leaning down to kiss her softly. "Though I should probably warn you, I'm not planning on making this easy for you."
"Easy?" Ginny's eyebrows rose challengingly. "Harry Potter, when have I ever wanted easy? I'm dating the Boy Who Lived. Easy went out the window years ago."
"Fair point," Harry conceded. "Though I think 'Boy Who Lived' might need updating. What do you think of 'Cosmically Enhanced Wizard Who's Devastatingly Attractive and Incredibly Modest'?"
Ginny burst into laughter. "That's terrible! And far too long. How about 'My Insufferably Perfect Boyfriend'?"
"I can work with that," Harry grinned, pulling her closer. "Though you realize this means I'll have to live up to the 'perfect' part."
"You already do," Ginny said simply, and the honesty in her voice made his chest tighten with emotion.
"Careful, Weasley," Harry murmured against her lips. "Keep saying things like that and I might start thinking you actually like me."
"Just like you?" Ginny's smile was soft but her eyes held depths of feeling that made his enhanced heart race. "Harry Potter, I'm absolutely, completely, cosmic-enhancement-and-all in love with you."
The words hung between them, brave and true and perfect, and Harry felt something in his chest expand beyond even his cosmic enhancements.
"Well," he said finally, his voice rough with emotion but his grin pure mischief, "that's convenient. Because I'm rather ridiculously in love with you too, Ginny Weasley."
Harry's fingers twitched along Ginny's arm, deliberately slow, almost teasing. "So… do you know the Contraceptive Charm?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You know, the one that lets us focus entirely on each other… without any… complications."
Ginny reached instinctively for her wand—but then froze, cheeks flushing, eyes widening. "Oh… I didn't bring it. I came here in nothing but your… jersey and…" She trailed off, a perfect mixture of mischief and embarrassment flickering in her eyes.
Harry's grin deepened, that Cavill-esque confidence flashing through every line of his face. "No worries. I've learned a little trick thanks to my… enhancements." His fingers hovered lightly over her stomach, brushing her skin in a way that made her shiver. A soft shimmer of magic rippled outward, and the Charm took effect without a wand, surrounding them in a subtle, protective bubble.
Ginny's eyes widened, impressed, but the playful sparkle returned almost immediately. "Showing off again, Potter?" she teased, leaning closer so her lips were just inches from his ear. "You're lucky I like a bit of showmanship."
Harry pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips brushing against her skin in a way that sent warmth through both of them. "I've been waiting for this—months of wondering if we'd ever get a moment like this. Quiet, uninterrupted… perfect." His gaze lingered on her, full of admiration and that subtle charm he wielded effortlessly. "And now we have it."
"You are impossible," she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips, though she didn't pull away. "Absolutely, infuriatingly impossible. And yet…" Her grin deepened, full of fire and affection. "…I rather like it."
Harry laughed softly, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'll take 'like it' as a compliment. Honestly, for someone who's been dodging Death Eaters, hexes, and the occasional rogue Bludger, you're awfully comfortable being reckless."
"I've had practice," she countered, a sly wink accompanying her words as she snuggled closer, letting her head rest against his chest. "Besides, someone had to match your ridiculous levels of sass and ego tonight."
"You know me too well," Harry said with a grin, his tone playful and low. "And, in case you haven't noticed, subtlety isn't really my style. But," he added, brushing his thumb over her hand in a way that was teasingly possessive, "I can be patient… for the right kind of chaos."
Ginny laughed, a soft, delighted sound that made Harry's chest swell. "Patience? I'll believe it when I see it, Potter. But for now…" She leaned up, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips, letting the shared warmth, trust, and affection do the talking.
Harry smirked against her lips, tilting his head just enough to deepen the connection. "You know," he murmured, playful, teasing, and a little dangerous all at once, "for someone who's been planning this little heist for months, you make it look far too easy."
Ginny's grin widened, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing. And you… you're just as predictable as ever. But I have to admit… I like it."
Harry laughed softly, brushing his lips across her temple again, and the room seemed to shrink until there was nothing left but the two of them. Outside, the Burrow slept peacefully, and inside, the quiet glow of morning wrapped them in warmth, laughter, and the kind of magic that wasn't learned from books—a magic that only existed between them, teasing and electric and utterly human.
—
Ginny tugged at Harry's old Quidditch jersey, wincing as her muscles protested every careful step down the Burrow's narrow hallway. The night had clearly left its mark—she felt like she'd been through an intense Quidditch match without a single break—but that only made her grin a little wider. After all, it had been worth it.
She tiptoed past the stairs, listening for creaks, and had nearly reached her own room when the door across the hall—Ron's—creaked open. Ginny froze, mid-step, heart racing with a mix of surprise and mild panic.
Out of the shadows stepped Hermione. She was wearing Ron's oversized Quidditch jersey, hair a little mussed and cheeks tinged with the kind of flush that only came from a night spent… well, the details didn't need saying.
For a long moment, the two girls just stared at each other. Ginny arched an eyebrow. Hermione raised hers in return. It was the kind of silent communication that only people who had survived Hogwarts together could pull off—no words needed, just a glance, and the world made sense.
Finally, Ginny smirked, voice low and conspiratorial. "Well… this is awkward."
Hermione gave a faint laugh, shoulders relaxing. "Awkward? Maybe. But I think we both know it's also… absolutely hilarious."
Ginny chuckled softly. "Agreed. Nobody has to know about any of this," she said, gesturing vaguely to the hall and the suspiciously quiet Burrow.
"Agreed," Hermione replied, her tone dry but amused. "Silent retreat to our own rooms. Preferably without waking the entire house in the process."
Ginny laughed again, limping a little as she adjusted the jersey over her shoulders. "You know, it's a real skill, sneaking around in someone else's house without making a single sound. I'd say you're a natural."
Hermione smirked, mock-offended. "Excuse me, Miss Weasley, I could say the same about you. If I hadn't caught you almost tripping over your own bravery back there, I'd say you make it look far too easy."
The two girls exchanged a knowing glance, both trying not to laugh too loudly. There was a brief, unspoken camaraderie in that glance—one born from late nights, shared chaos, and a mutual understanding that sometimes, the world didn't need explanations.
"Fine," Ginny whispered finally, gesturing toward her room. "We do this quietly. We survive the hallways. And we pretend like none of this ever happened."
Hermione nodded, a sly grin tugging at her lips. "Exactly. And if anyone asks…" She paused dramatically. "We'll deny everything. Including the fact that we make excellent burglars in borrowed jerseys."
Ginny snorted softly. "Deal. And if anyone catches us, I'm blaming the garden gnomes."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. "Of course. The usual suspects."
With a shared laugh that was both conspiratorial and relieved, the two girls slipped off in opposite directions. Ginny made her way carefully to her room, Hermione back to Bill's old room, both moving like shadows through the quiet Burrow. Outside, the first hints of dawn painted the sky in soft pastels, and inside, the house seemed to exhale—a little chaotic, a little sleepy, and very much alive.
—
An hour later, Harry made his way down to the kitchen, his enhanced hearing having already catalogued the domestic symphony of breakfast preparation—the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the gentle bubble of porridge on the hob, and Mrs. Weasley's contented humming as she orchestrated the morning meal with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd been feeding large families for decades.
What his enhanced senses hadn't prepared him for was the immediate rush of heat to his face the moment Mrs. Weasley looked up from her cooking with that particular expression of maternal satisfaction that seemed to broadcast "I know exactly what you've been up to, young man, and I thoroughly approve."
"Harry, dear!" she beamed, immediately abandoning her eggs to fuss over him with the kind of attention that made him want to sink through the floor. "You look wonderfully rested. Much better than yesterday—there's proper color in your cheeks now, and you seem so much more... settled."
Harry's enhanced senses picked up the subtle emphasis on "settled," and his cosmic-level intellect immediately began calculating exactly how much Mrs. Weasley might have deduced about his nocturnal activities from his current appearance, demeanor, and the fact that Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table wearing what was definitely his old Quidditch practice shirt under her jumper.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he managed, hoping his voice didn't betray the fact that he was currently remembering several very specific moments from the previous evening that were absolutely not appropriate to think about while his surrogate mother was attempting to feed him breakfast and probably divine the intimate details of his love life through maternal intuition.
"Sit, sit!" she insisted, guiding him to a chair with gentle but implacable authority. "I've made extra eggs this morning—you need proper fuel for all this international travel planning. Can't have you gallivanting off to America without a decent breakfast."
She placed a plate in front of him that contained enough food to fuel a small Quidditch team, and Harry found himself focusing very intently on the perfectly prepared eggs while trying not to think about the way Ginny's fingers had traced patterns across his chest, or how her laugh had sounded in the darkness, or the particular expression she'd made when he—
"Harry?" Hermione's voice cut through his increasingly inappropriate reminiscences. "You're looking rather flushed. Are you feeling alright?"
He glanced up to find three pairs of eyes watching him with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement. Ron looked mildly concerned, Hermione appeared to be analyzing him with scholarly interest, and Ginny was wearing an expression of barely suppressed mirth that suggested she knew exactly what he'd been thinking about.
"Fine," he said quickly, taking a large bite of egg to buy himself time to regain his composure. "Just... processing all the arrangements we need to make. Lots of logistics to consider."
"Speaking of logistics," Hermione said briskly, though there was definitely laughter dancing in her eyes, "I've been making some inquiries about our travel arrangements. I spoke with Bill early this morning, and he's arranged for you to meet with the Gringotts account managers this afternoon."
Harry raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction from his own traitorous thoughts and Mrs. Weasley's knowing looks. "Account managers? Plural?"
"Well, yes," Hermione said, consulting a neat list written in her precise handwriting. "According to Bill, your financial situation is... complex. Between the Potter vault, the Black inheritance from Sirius, the Order of Merlin compensation, and apparently some sort of compound interest situation that's been accumulating for years, you've got rather a lot of money to manage."
"How much is rather a lot?" Harry asked, though he suspected he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Enough to buy a small country," Ron said cheerfully around a mouthful of toast. "Or fund our entire expedition to Kansas in absolutely ridiculous luxury. First-class everything, private transportation, probably our own personal American magical consultant if we want one."
"I don't need ridiculous luxury," Harry protested. "I just need to get to Kansas, meet this other Kryptonian, and figure out how to help him without causing any international incidents."
"Harry," Ginny said with fond exasperation, "you're a cosmically enhanced wizard with reality-altering abilities who's planning to provide superhero consulting services to American farmers. 'Avoiding international incidents' probably sailed out the window the moment you decided to take this on as a professional responsibility."
"Fair point," Harry conceded. "Though I'd still prefer to minimize the diplomatic complications if possible."
"Which is why," Hermione continued, "we need to do this properly. Legal documentation, proper currency exchange, and most importantly, we need to ensure you can access your funds through the American branch of Gringotts. According to my research, they have a facility in the magical district of New York—similar to Diagon Alley, but more... American."
"More American how?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Bigger, more commercial, apparently designed by people who believe that if something's worth doing, it's worth doing with maximum dramatic flair and at least seventeen different ways to spend money you didn't know you had," Hermione replied dryly.
Harry groaned. "Wonderful. So I'll be managing cosmic responsibilities and American magical capitalism simultaneously. That sounds like a recipe for exactly the sort of chaos I was hoping to avoid."
"Look on the bright side," Ginny said with a grin that made his pulse quicken in ways that were definitely not appropriate for breakfast conversation, "you'll have us there to keep you grounded. Ron can handle the practical concerns, Hermione can manage all the intellectual complications, and I can make sure you don't develop an ego about being the mysterious British superhero consultant with unlimited funding and alien superpowers."
"My ego is perfectly manageable, thank you," Harry protested.
"Harry, love," Ginny replied with devastating sweetness, "last night you referred to yourself as 'cosmically enhanced' at least six times, and that was just during casual conversation. Your ego may need some supervisory oversight."
The kitchen fell silent except for the gentle bubbling of Mrs. Weasley's porridge and what sounded suspiciously like muffled snickering from Ron's direction.
Harry felt his face flame as he realized exactly what Ginny had just implied about their previous evening's conversation topics, and Mrs. Weasley's expression of maternal satisfaction deepened into something that was equal parts knowing approval and barely suppressed laughter.
"Right," he said quickly, focusing very intently on his breakfast, "Gringotts meeting this afternoon, currency exchange, American magical district. All very sensible, practical arrangements that don't require any further discussion of... conversation topics... or ego management... or anything else that might have been mentioned during... casual conversation."
"Oh, I think we should definitely discuss your ego management techniques," Ginny said with wicked innocence. "Very educational topic. Lots of practical applications for someone with your... enhanced capabilities."
Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice. Ron's ears turned bright red. Mrs. Weasley hummed contentedly as she served herself breakfast, clearly enjoying the entertainment value of watching Harry squirm.
"Moving on," Harry said desperately, "what time is the Gringotts appointment, and what exactly do I need to bring for proper documentation?"
"Two o'clock," Hermione said briskly, though her lips were twitching with suppressed amusement. "Bill's already spoken with the account managers about your... unique circumstances. They're apparently very interested in meeting the cosmically enhanced client with the unprecedented financial portfolio."
"Unprecedented how?"
"Well, according to the preliminary assessment, you're potentially one of the wealthiest individuals in the British magical community," Hermione explained. "The combination of old family money, war compensation, and compound interest over multiple decades has created something that the goblins apparently describe as 'financially fascinating' and 'investment portfolio with reality-altering potential.'"
Harry stared at her. "Investment portfolio with reality-altering potential?"
"Goblin humor," Ron said with a shrug. "Though knowing you, you'll probably find a way to make it literally true. Accidentally reshape the global economy through poor investment decisions or something."
"I'm not going to reshape the global economy," Harry protested.
"You're not going to try to reshape the global economy," Ginny corrected. "There's a difference. With your track record, you'll probably end up revolutionizing international magical banking through sheer accident and good intentions."
"That's... actually not entirely impossible," Hermione admitted thoughtfully. "If Harry's cosmic abilities interact with goblin magical technology in unexpected ways, the financial implications could be quite dramatic."
Harry buried his face in his hands. "I just want to help a farm boy learn not to accidentally level barns with his heat vision. How did this become a discussion about revolutionizing international banking?"
"Because you're Harry Potter," Mrs. Weasley said fondly, finally settling at the table with her own breakfast. "Nothing you do is ever simple, dear. Even something as straightforward as visiting your godson somehow involved cosmic light displays and reality-responsive magical phenomena that had the whole village talking."
"The whole village?" Harry asked faintly.
"Oh yes," she replied cheerfully. "Mrs. Pemberton has been telling everyone about the 'devastatingly attractive young man with mysterious powers' who visited the Burrow yesterday. She's started a betting pool about whether you're actually Harry Potter or some sort of international magical celebrity using Polyjuice Potion for publicity purposes."
"A betting pool," Harry repeated slowly.
"Currently running three to one in favor of 'definitely Harry Potter but enhanced by mysterious magical processes,'" Ron supplied helpfully. "Though there's a minority opinion that you're actually a visiting American wizard doing research on British agricultural magic."
"Agricultural magic," Harry said, his voice climbing toward something that might have been hysteria. "They think I'm researching agricultural magic?"
"Well, you did make Mrs. Henderson's rosebush bloom out of season," Ginny pointed out reasonably. "And Mr. Diggory's prize vegetables experienced 'unprecedented growth' after your visit. From a purely observational standpoint, agricultural magic is a logical conclusion."
"I was just... my heat vision automatically responds to plant life when I'm relaxed," Harry explained weakly. "It's not agricultural magic, it's cosmic energy interaction with organic matter."
"Right," Ron said slowly. "And the difference is?"
Harry opened his mouth to explain the complex theoretical frameworks behind Kryptonian energy projection and its interaction with terrestrial biological systems, then closed it again as he realized he was about to deliver a lecture on alien agriculture to people who just wanted to know why the vegetables were doing strange things.
"The difference," he said finally, "is that agricultural magic is intentional, and what I'm doing is accidental cosmic influence that I'm still learning to control."
"So you're accidentally good at agricultural magic," Hermione summarized. "That's actually quite impressive, considering most wizards need years of training to achieve reliable plant growth enhancement."
"It's not agricultural magic," Harry insisted, but his protest was undermined by the fact that Mrs. Weasley's kitchen herbs had started growing noticeably more lush since he'd sat down at the table.
"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said gently, "perhaps you should simply accept that your cosmic enhancements include a natural affinity for encouraging plant growth. It's a lovely skill to have, and certainly more pleasant than some of the abilities you could have developed."
"Such as?" Harry asked, though he suspected he didn't want to know.
"Well, you could have developed a tendency to accidentally set things on fire, or make furniture explode, or turn people's hair different colors just by looking at them," she pointed out practically. "Making vegetables grow faster is quite harmless by comparison."
"That's... actually a fair point," Harry admitted. "Though I should probably mention that I can still do the fire and explosion things if I'm not careful. The plant growth is just what happens when I'm relaxed and happy."
"Which explains why the kitchen herbs have been practically glowing since you sat down," Ginny observed with amusement. "Are you particularly relaxed and happy this morning, Harry?"
The question was delivered with perfect innocence, but the glint in her eyes made it clear that she knew exactly why he might be feeling relaxed and happy after their reunion the night before.
Harry's face went red again, and he determinedly focused on his breakfast while trying not to think about exactly how relaxed and happy Ginny had made him, or the specific activities that had contributed to his current state of cosmic contentment.
"I'm just... pleased to be home," he said carefully. "With family. Having breakfast. Discussing completely normal topics like international banking and accidentally encouraging agricultural productivity."
"Of course you are, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with that knowing smile that made him want to disappear into his eggs. "And we're all very pleased to have you home safe and sound. Even if you have developed some rather interesting new capabilities that are going to require some adjustment on everyone's part."
"Speaking of adjustment," Hermione said, mercifully steering the conversation back toward practical matters, "we should probably discuss travel logistics. According to my research, international magical travel to America requires either official Portkey authorization—which could take weeks and involves extensive Ministry paperwork—or we go the Muggle route with commercial airlines."
"Commercial airlines it is," Harry said immediately. "I've had quite enough of Ministry paperwork for one lifetime, and I suspect that explaining my current... circumstances... to official magical authorities would raise more questions than I'm prepared to answer."
"Plus," Ron added cheerfully, "commercial airlines means first-class seating, proper meals, and the chance to experience American hospitality without having to explain why a British wizard is providing superhero consulting services to Kansas farmers."
"When you put it like that," Harry said with a grin, "it sounds almost reasonable."
"Nothing about this situation is reasonable," Hermione pointed out. "But at least it should be interesting."
Harry looked around the table at the faces of his chosen family—Mrs. Weasley beaming with maternal pride, Ron grinning with anticipation for their upcoming adventure, Hermione already mentally organizing the complex logistics they'd need to manage, and Ginny watching him with an expression of love and mischief that made his enhanced heart race with happiness.
"Interesting," he agreed, reaching for Ginny's hand under the table and feeling her fingers intertwine with his. "I can definitely live with interesting."
---
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